#it used to not bother me as much but i think its my current job because im not allowed to wear a pronoun pin

[pickled-flowers]

There should be an award you get every time you get misgendered and don't start throwing punches

[asahicore]

gorgeous - lhs

"you should take it as a compliment that i'm talking to everyone here but you / and you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room" - gorgeous by taylor swift

series masterlist - part one - part two - part three

prompt 45 of the 100 kisses list, "we shouldn't do this" but they do so anyway

pairing. best friend's brother!heeseung x fem!reader synopsis. Heeseung comes back from his first year of university a new man - forget nervous, fidgety, dorky Heeseung and say hello to confident, teasing, flirty Heeseung. This change of attitude doesn't help your longstanding crush on your best friend's brother, and neither does the rising tension between the two of you - a tension that is bound to explode. genre. f2l, did i mention this was a best friend's brother au?, only fluff in this part but more to come, perhaps suggestive due to tension between reader and hee and makeout session lol word count. 8.1k (yes an asahicore fic under 10k thank u very much) a/n. hi loves i'm super happy to be posting this bc its the very first fic out of the 100 kisses event and its a project im really excited about !!! i know i said like 2 days ago it'd take me a while to write this but i got super motivated over the weekend and it turned out shorter than i thought and bestie @k-ingzo zo did a super amazing job at beta reading this so i was able to post it really quickly !! anyways hope you enjoy this, pls lmk,, and hope u look forward to the rest of the series as well !! ok bye

Nine years ago

“Y/N, honey, come meet your new friends!”

You rushed down the stairs at your mom’s call - at eight, you were always excited by the idea of new friends. She’d also called Naeun down, but lately, your sister had been acting like doing anything your parents asked her would cost her her life.

There in your living room were four unfamiliar faces, but your parents were smiling warmly, so you weren’t too nervous. Instinctively, you found your mother’s side and she rested her hand on your head, bending down to talk to you.

“Y/N, these are the Lees, they’ve just moved to the neighborhood.”

“Hi,” you greeted shyly, and were met with four hi’s in return.

“Heeseung and Seeun here started going to the same school as you,” she informs, nodding her head towards the young boy and girl. Now that she said it, the boy looked really familiar. You thought you recognized him from school that day - his glasses were definitely memorable. “And Seeun is the exact same age as you!” Your face lit up at that, and her expression mirrored yours as her lips curled into a smile. “Why don’t you show her your room?”

“Sure! Come on,” you said, holding out your hand for Seeun to take. She looked back at her parents who were nodding vigorously at her to follow you. You just played for half-an-hour, and Heeseung joined you quickly, saying he was bored with the adults downstairs. He didn’t talk much, instead found some of your toys to play with in his own corner. 

When the Lees left, you were thinking two things: one, you couldn’t wait to tell Chaeyeong about Seeun, and two, that boy with the big glasses was really, really cute.

-

Now

“Seeun, why the hell didn’t you tell us that your brother is a mega-hottie now?!”

This is what your friend Chaeyeong whisper-screams in lieu of a greeting as she barges in Seeun’s room, plopping down on her bed like it was her own. It might as well have been, considering how long the three of you had known each other.

“If you ever refer to my brother as a mega-hottie again, I’m terminating this friendship,” Seeun replies, not bothering to look up from the bead bracelet she was currently making.

“Oh please, just because you’re his sister doesn’t mean you haven’t noticed how attractive he’s gotten,” Chaeyeong insists, but it just makes Seeun scrunch her nose in disgust.

“Chaeyeong, please stop making it so obvious you’re an only child,” Seeun sighs. You let out a giggle at your friends’ conversation as you search for another color that could go well with the pink beads you’d chosen for your own bracelet. 

Stealthily, Chaeyeong leaves her spot on the bed and sneaks up to you. “Y/N!” she exclaims suddenly, wrapping her arms around your shoulders in a sneak-attack hug that makes you yelp. It makes you drop your half-finished bracelet, the beads falling all over the carpeted floor around you. You look up at Chaeyeong with a pout, but she just smiles at you and starts picking up the beads, gathering the tiny pink jewels in the palm of her hand.

“Y/N, you’re with me on this one, aren’t you?”

You ignore Seeun’s side-eye and give in to Chaeyeong’s encouraging expression. “I guess he does look very…” you pause to carefully consider your word choice. “Different,” you settle on.

“Different? That’s it? Y/N, you should really consider getting some glasses, seeing how you’re so blind to hot boys.” Cue a loud groan, Seeun’s courtesy. You just giggle again, slightly shaking your head at Chaeyeong’s antics. She rolled her eyes, disappointed that you didn’t back her up, but she drops the subject and switches to Seeun’s upcoming birthday party. Something great about being generally quiet? People don’t question it when you don’t partake much in a conversation. You listen and laugh as your friends bicker, but your mind is on something else.

Or rather, it’s on someone else.

Because Chaeyeong is absolutely right - Seeun’s brother has glowed up so much during his time away at university that you had a double-take when he opened the door for you earlier.

The sentence this is so unfair plays over and over in your head.

You’d heard of the freshman fifteen, of college first-years being so stressed over grades and having so little time that their diet consisted of instant ramen, quick cafeteria lunches, and an ungodly amount of coffee. And alcohol, on Friday nights, of course. After seeing how freshman year treated your older sister, you were dreading going to college, imagining it to be the complete opposite of what TV and movies had shown you.

So how the hell had Lee Heeseung gone from high school loser to campus hearthrob in the span of a mere nine months? (After some thinking, you realized that, well, if a woman can create a whole human being in nine months, maybe a regular guy can undergo great physical and mental change in that time, too.)

In September, when you’d last seen him, he wore the same glasses he had for all of high school - those slightly crooked ones that made his eyes look even bigger than they already were. He always had to push them back up his nose but he never bothered to get them fixed, even though all they needed was for the arms to be tightened. You remember his tic-like habit of readjusting his glasses, a habit so strong that he did it even when he wasn’t wearing them. Maybe they bothered him so much that he decided to get rid of them once and for all, you guess. 

Indeed, when he greeted you at his front door earlier (even after years of knowing Seeun and her family and no matter how much they reassure you that it’s okay, you’re unable to come in without knocking first, like Chaeyeong does), he wasn’t wearing his thick lenses you’d grown fond of. His eyes didn’t look unfocused like they usually would without glasses, so you assumed he’d switched to contact lenses - you knew it wasn’t Lasik surgery, because Seeun was always complaining that her parents wouldn’t pay for her or her brother to receive it. 

But it wasn’t just the glasses, of course not. There was an ease and confidence about him that he didn’t have before - no awkward giggles, no darting eyes, no weirdly positioned limbs. He held the door open for you and kept his eyes on you as you walked in, saying it was nice to see you again and asking if you were happy to be done with high school. You already weren’t expecting Heeseung to open the door in Seeun’s stead, so him actually looking at you while he spoke instead of mumbling a few words in your general direction and scratching the back of his neck rendered you completely flustered, cheeks heating up embarrassingly quickly.

His hair was different: it used to sit there atop Heeseung’s head, unsure what to do with itself, but now it was purposefully cut and slightly pushed back. When he turned his head, you saw something shiny dangling from his left ear.

Heeseung had a piercing. Shy, nervous, fidgety electronics club president Heeseung had a goddamn piercing, and it looked amazing. 

And then he laughed. He actually had the audacity to laugh, and then ruffle your hair. You could’ve died right then and there. “You’re still just as cute as before,” he mused, beaming down at you. Then he walked away towards the living room, saying Seeun was in her room upstairs. As if nothing happened. As if you weren’t on the verge of combusting, your saving grace being your friend’s voice calling out your name. You ran up the stairs, wanting to get as far away from Heeseung and his smile and his voice and his touch as possible. You busied yourself with the pearls and the small bracelet-making station Seeun had organized, trying not to think about the vein that ran down his forearm or about how his shoulders looked wider than before. And you’d managed to do that, until Chaeyeong brought him up.

It wasn’t unfair because he’d grown mysteriously hot - it was unfair because to you, Heeseung had always been the cutest boy around, but now other people had surely noticed too, Chaeyeong amongst them. Now, you were just one of the many girls that had a crush on Heeseung, even if yours dated back to the first time you’d met him when the Lees moved into the neighborhood. 

Their parents had been delighted that two girls of their daughter’s age - eight, to be precise - lived on their street. You were delighted that the cute boy you’d seen at school that day was her big brother, just one year older. Chaeyeong and you gladly welcomed Seeun into your friendship and you had each other’s back through the awkward phases of your early teenage years and the stressful times as high school seniors getting ready for college. You shared everything - clothes, jewelry, homework answers, gossip, tears, laughter. Secrets.

You liked to think there wasn’t a thing you didn’t know about them, but you couldn’t say the opposite was true - there was a secret you had to keep from them. A secret that grew bigger and bigger as time passed, but that you needed to keep locked in.

You had the biggest crush known to mankind on your best friend’s brother. It was either keep quiet or tell both of your friends; you trusted Chaeyeong, but you didn’t want her to carry that burden. You had no idea what Seeun’s reaction would be if you admitted you liked her brother, but you didn’t want to risk it. Every best friend’s brother (or brother’s best friend) romance you’d read had told you that the former was always against and deeply disgusted by the idea of their friend dating the latter. The last thing you wanted to do was make things weird, so you said nothing and suffered in silence, as one does. And so, for years, Heeseung was your little secret.

But not anymore, apparently. And it felt unfair. You didn’t have much of a chance to begin with, but now, getting with Heeseung was inimaginable. You’d just have to continue pining from far away, just as you’d gotten used to.

-

Four years ago

Your heart pounded as you made your way to the bus stop, steps heavy and head full of thoughts. Even though your older sister told you there’s nothing to worry about, you couldn’t help it. You were used to walking to school, not taking the bus. After three years of seeing the same people roaming the hallways, it was nerve-wracking to arrive at a place where most faces would be completely unfamiliar. You didn’t know what your teachers would be like, you were scared your classes would be a hundred times harder than before, you heard the cafeteria food was really bad. In short, you were absolutely dreading high school. And today was your first day.

The only thing that calmed you down was knowing that in a few minutes, you’d be with Seeun and Chaeyeong, and just seeing them would make you feel instantly better. You were meeting at the bus stop.

But when you reached it, neither of your friends were there. You shouldn’t have been surprised, since you’d come ten minutes early, but you couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. That is, until you recognized someone else.

“Heeseung?” you called out before you could stop yourself. The boy snapped his head in your direction, and his eyes widened at the sight of you. Simple things like that made your heart burst with adoration for him.

“Oh, h-hi, Y/N.” He smiled the shy smile you loved so much and looked back at his feet, holding on tightly to the straps of his backpack. You stood next to him, close enough to have a conversation if he wanted to but not so close that it’d be weird.

Heeseung was the only person you felt awkward around. Even though you were on the quieter side and strangers weren’t your favorite people per se, being around people you didn’t know well wasn’t your definition of torture like it seemed to be for Heeseung and other kids from your school. But Heeseung’s awkwardness was contagious, and your crush on him didn’t help your ease of mind - so you imitated his posture, swaying back and forth on your feet as you held onto your backpack straps just to have something to hold onto. You smiled at the ground, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by looking at him, but that meant you missed the growing blush on his cheeks.

“So,” he started, “nervous?” He glanced quickly, just once, at you. You were so surprised at his breaking the silence, used to a quiet Heeseung, that you forgot to answer, simply staring at him. His panicked expression and mumblings were what jolted you out of your daze. “I-I mean, you know, cause it’s your first day and everything, and I was really nervous last year- I am today, too, actually- so I thought maybe, you know, you’re nervous too, but maybe you’re not, I don’t-”

He said all of this so quickly, you started laughing, slightly bending over. He let out a chuckle too, but as you continued laughing, a pout started to form on his lips. “What’s so funny…” you heard him grumble as he kicked a non-existent pebble.

“Sorry,” you said, regaining your breath. “I’m sorry, Heeseung.” The sound of his name made him glance at you again. You wished you could kiss the pout off his lips. “I was nervous, actually. But I feel better now.”

A quick smile appeared on his lips, but he willed it away. “I’m glad my embarrassment made you feel better,” he sighed.

You gently kicked his shoe with yours to make him look at you. “No, it’s because you made me laugh. I needed it. Thanks,” you corrected with a smile. Heeseung may have made you feel awkward, but the easiness with which he always got flustered made you love to tease him slightly.

His smile widened as he looked away once more, the blush having spread to his whole face by then. “Whatever,” he murmured. There was no time to say anything else because Seeun called out your name, practically skipping towards you. 

She gave you an excited hug as a greeting before turning towards her brother with a glare, punching him hard on the bicep, making him wince in pain and reach his hand to cover his arm where she hit him. “Thanks for waiting for me, loser.”

“You were gonna make us late!” he whined, rubbing his arm.

“Yeah, ‘cause I obviously missed the bus,” she tutted.

You watched the siblings with an amused smile, used to the exact same kind of banter at home. Your sister, who was in her last year of high school, had decided not to drive you for some reason only an older sister could make up and pretend was reasonable. Your parents had tried to convince her, but you didn’t mind taking the bus with your friends, so they didn’t push it, just glad they could somehow keep the both of you happy.

Heeseung didn’t say anything in return. Your eyes met for a moment, and his frown relaxed into a smile when he caught your expression. It lasted a second but it was enough to make your stomach twist. Seeun, oblivious, grabbed your arm and started telling you about all the things she was excited about for today. You were worried Chaeyeong wasn’t going to make it, but her footsteps were loud as she ran, reaching you just as the bus stopped in front of you. Heeseung took what you soon found out was his usual spot at the front of the bus while your friends dragged you towards the back of it. You tried not to let your thoughts drift towards the boy with the messy black hair and crooked glasses, but his shy smile replayed in your mind all day. For a year, you’d gotten used to not going to the same school as him - you didn’t know how you’d survive seeing him at least five days a week once again.

-

Now

You were really determined to not let Heeseung’s newfound confidence sway you, physically shaking your head every time a thought of him popped in your head (useless) and racking your brain for reasons you shouldn’t like him (not many of those). There was just one teeny, tiny problem.

He was making it impossible to pine for him at a distance. 

It seemed like everywhere you went, he was there. Maybe that was due to the fact that your most frequently visited place was literally his house, but still. It was frustrating. You didn’t need to be met with his stupid smile whenever he opened the door for you, you didn’t need to catch him cutely napping - how was that even possible?! - in the living room, a random sitcom still playing on the TV, you didn’t need to hear his laughter when his friends were over, and you definitely did not need to see him half-naked as he came out of the bathroom, hair wet from the shower and sticking to his forehead, towel wrapped low around his hips and his abs fully on display. Because of course, you had to be in the hallway, heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water, at the exact same time as him. 

You almost start to resent the fact that Seeun had the comfiest bedroom out of the three of you, as well as the most snack-filled house, which was why you had decided years ago to hang out there the most. Especially during school breaks, you were there almost every day, so you were bound to see Heeseung a lot. But for some reason, that didn’t seem to be enough, and over the course of June, you also ran into him while shoe-shopping with your mom, then another time as you entered the public library just when he left it, and another when your friends and his had decided to get ice cream at the same time. It was like you couldn’t escape him.

The worst part? Every time he saw you, while you simultaneously wanted to run away from him and into his arms, his damnedly handsome face broke into a stupidly beautiful smile that looked far too genuine for your heart. “Y/N! Funny seeing you here!”

No, Heeseung, not funny.

You didn’t want to be that girl whose brain cells stopped working whenever she encountered an attractive male specimen, but that was apparently who you were meant to be, because all words left you when you saw Heeseung. Although you’d been somewhat flustered around him in the past, he was always much more so than you, which reassured you and gave you enough confidence to actually talk to him. But now that he had realized how handsome he was and was clearly using that newfound knowledge against you (or so you thought), you were unable to string a coherent sentence when his shiny eyes bore into yours.

You think he might’ve sensed your awkwardness, because he never lingered, never made useless small talk, just asked about your favorite ice cream flavor or the book he’d checked out, patted your head, then was on his way.

There were so many butterflies in your stomach, you were scared it might fly away.

One afternoon in the middle of July, you and your friends come back from the city pool completely exhausted after playing around for hours in the water. All bundled up and close together, you try to nap on Seeun’s bed. Keyword try, because even though your friends’ soft snores quickly start to fill the silence of the room, you can’t seem to fall asleep, no matter how heavy your eyes feel.

Quietly, you get out of bed and head downstairs to the kitchen, hoping a cold glass of water will help sleep come to you like it usually does. You shouldn’t be surprised to see Heeseung in the dining room/kitchen area, busy with a puzzle, the pieces of which he’s spread out all over the table, but your heart still does a flip. He must be really engrossed in it, because he doesn’t notice your presence in the room until you fill a glass with ice, the sudden sound making his head snap up at you. You hate that his face breaks into a grin as soon as he sees you.

“Oh, hey, Y/N! What are you doing?”

“Just getting some water,” you explain, raising your glass with a small smile. Your whole body tells you to run away, back to Seeun’s bedroom, but something in your gut tells you to stay, to get closer to Heeseung. So you do. “What about you?” you ask, slowly making your way towards the table and peering at the puzzle in progress.

“Just whipping up some brownies,” he retorts with a devilish smirk, big eyes looking up at you. 

You fight back a smile in vain. “Shut up,” you mumble, but take a seat next to him anyway. He seems slightly taken aback by the sudden proximity, and you are too, but you keep your gaze focused on the puzzle in front of you so that you can’t think too much about how close you’re sitting, and how your knees could touch if you angled them just so.

For a small while you sit in silence, watching as he puts pieces together and even finding a couple of your own. It’s a one-thousand piece jigsaw that he’s clearly only just started, but Heeseung doesn’t seem fazed by that. You like seeing how his eyebrows slightly furrow when he’s searching for a particular piece, and the pleased smirk that graces his lips when he finds it. You break the silence after a few minutes.

“So you still like puzzles, then?” you ask, voice low. You’ve always been told you speak quietly - even too quietly sometimes, but you can’t always help it. Especially in situations like this, when it’s silent around you anyways, you don’t see the point of raising your voice. When Heeseung replies, he speaks at the same volume as you, and there’s something comforting about it, about speaking quietly in such a spacious and sunlit room - the words you share are for you two, and you two only.

“Yep, ever since that day.” He glances quickly at you and smiles at the piece in his hand, and it’s like getting a glimpse of the Heeseung you had known all those years. Your heart warms at the sight.

“That day?”

This makes him look properly at you, his eyes darting back and forth between yours as if searching for something there. Your heart is now on fire. “Don’t you remember?”

You tilt your head in response and he turns his attention back to the puzzle. “It was at this table, too. I think your grandparents- your grandma, I think? Anyway, someone had gotten you a puzzle for your birthday.”

You ‘ah’ in realization. “Of course!”

Two years ago

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do this, it’s so complicated,” Seeun pouted apologetically, looking at you sadly. “We’ve been here like an hour and we’ve barely gotten anywhere.” 

Chaeyeong, head on the table, groaned in agreement. You followed your friend’s gaze to the puzzle in front of you - she was right, you hadn’t made much progress. But you liked it. The picture was pretty and you’d like to see it completed, but more than that, you liked finding the right piece, figuring out strategies.

You hummed, mirroring Seeun’s pout. Chaeyeong snapped her head back up to look at you. You’d think she hadn’t slept in days, but that was just bored Chaeyeong. You loved your friend and her over-dramatic antics. “Can we just take a break?” she asked, tone like you’d kidnapped and forced her to do this.

“You guys go ahead.” You smiled. “I like it, I can just continue this for a while and you guys do whatever you want.” The three of you spent so much time together that you didn’t need to be doing an activity together to be happy - being in each other’s general vicinity was enough to be considered a hang-out.

“You sure?” Seeun asked.

“Yeah, ‘course.” You chuckled at the obvious relief on your friend’s faces. “Just don’t watch the next Extraordinary You episode without me, okay?”

They both gasped and clutched their hearts like you’d accused them of murder. “How could you even think that, Y/N?!” Chaeyeong exclaimed.

“We would never!” Seeun added.

You shook your head at your friends’ antics, laughing as you waved them off. “Just go, already.”

“Yes, ma’am!” And with that, they were off, running up the stairs to Seeun’s bedroom.

You were only on your own for around ten minutes - the front door opened and closed, and the quiet shuffle of shoes being taken off and replaced with slippers let you know Heeseung had just come home. Seeun always made a show of being exhausted after school, groaning as she threw her backpack to the ground, while Mr and Mrs Lee always announced their arrival with a sometimes cheery, sometimes tired ‘I’m home!’. But Heeseung, quiet as always, simply set his backpack next to the stairs, slipped into his slippers and made his way to the kitchen, fond of a quick snack after school. Even Chaeyeong made herself more known when she entered the Lee household.

Every day except for Fridays, he came home two hours later than his sister because of either magic or electronics club (yes, magic club. It was cute, okay?!). You always looked forward to the monthly meeting of the book club you were in, partly because it meant you could take the bus back with Heeseung afterwards. Even if the ride was usually mainly silent, just sitting next to him was enough for your heart to do all sorts of tricks worthy of an Olympic gymnast. 

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” he greeted softly, probably surprised at seeing you alone at the dinner table.

“Hi, Heeseung. How was the electronics club?” You wanted to make conversation, but you winced immediately at your words - was it normal for you to know what club he had on what days?

But Heeseung seemed to pay it no mind, just smiling shyly, a blush already creeping on his cheeks. “It was nice, thanks.” He opened the fridge, taking out a carton of milk. “Do you want a glass?” When you didn’t respond immediately, he was quick to add, “Of milk? O-or orange juice? Or I can make some tea, if you want-”

His hands were already busy with preparing whatever drink he thought you might want. You held back a chuckle and smiled as you answered, “Milk is fine, thanks.”

His blush spread all the way down his neck and you turned your attention back to the puzzle so he wouldn’t see your grin. “Right, milk. Milk,” he stammered, then got two glasses out of the cupboard.

You loved moments like these with Heeseung - flustered, light-hearted, slightly awkward, moments that made you want to giggle out of nerves and delight. Basically every moment with him was like this, so it’d be more accurate to say you loved every moment with him.

“I didn’t know you liked puzzles,” he said, an upward tilt to his voice, as he set your glass next to you and took a seat across from you. He peered down at the pieces spread out in front of you, fixed his glasses on his nose, and took a big gulp of milk.

“I didn’t either,” you said with a chuckle, and stammered out an explanation when he looked up at you questioningly. “My, um, my grandma gave this to me for my birthday last month. She’s got a lot of grandkids, you know, and I think she might’ve mixed up my other cousin who likes puzzles and me…” Heeseung nods slowly, the corners of his lips tugging up in amusement. “But I don’t mind it,” you add, “I’m having fun, actually. Seeun and Chaeyeong are of a different mind, though. It’s a bit hard doing it on my own but I like it anyway.”

“I can help you,” he suddenly blurted out, and he looked just as surprised at his words as you were. “If you want.”

You smiled at him, and Heeseung and you actually looked at each other, actually held eye contact for three seconds, until you felt your face burn and had to look away. “Sure, yeah, that’d be nice.”

Although it took some time to finish the puzzle - putting 500 pieces together was a lot trickier than you thought it’d be - Heeseung and you managed to do it, high fiving celebratorily after almost two hours of hard work.

Now

“I just had a lot of fun that day.” Heeseung shrugs. “Plus, I already liked things like Legos and Rubik’s cubes, so it made sense I’d like puzzles, too.” 

You nod in response, watching as he twirls a puzzle piece between his thumb and middle finger. “It’s funny that my grandma’s mistake is what made you discover your love for puzzles.”

Heeseung chuckles along with you, and you’re relieved the atmosphere is somewhat lighter than before until he looks straight into your eyes, locking your gaze in his own, and a breath gets trapped in your throat. “I’m glad she did that, otherwise we wouldn’t be here right now.”

You’re still staring at him, dumbfounded, mouth agape, when he looks away with a smirk and turns his attention back to the puzzle, analyzing it seriously as if nothing happened. You come back to your senses after a few seconds, clearing your throat before imitating Heeseung and trying to focus on the puzzle once again. But that’s hard to do when your hands brush ever-so-slightly every time you fumble around the pile for a particular piece, or every time he hits your knee with his, inadvertently or to tease you, you’re not sure.

The first thing to do when starting a puzzle is looking for all the side pieces to build the frame. When Heeseung spots one in the pile next to you, he leans in to grab it, and he’s suddenly close enough for you to get a whiff of his cologne that had faded over the day. You think he’ll just take the piece and sit back in his seat, but instead, he turns his head towards you, and that’s when you realize just how close you are. Close enough that it wouldn’t be hard to close the gap and have your lips on his - just as the thought hits you, his eyes drift down to your parted lips. Is he thinking the same thing?

You take a sharp breath in, eyes fixed on Heeseung, mind racing with thoughts and assumptions of what might be going through his head right now. But your brain goes haywire when a smirk blooms on his lips, clearly enjoying your reaction. His gaze finds your eyes once more and he raises the piece between the two of you, in the small space that separates you. “Got it,” he says quietly, voice lower than usual. It makes your insides melt. He could be very well talking about you - he’s got you absolutely wrapped around his finger, and he seems to know it.

He turns back to the puzzle, smirk still on his lips, and you’re so embarrassed and confused that your flight instinct kicks in. The screech of your chair as you push it back and stand up makes Heeseung look up at you again, his smirk having dissolved in surprise and - disappointment?

No time to ponder, you need to get. out. of. here. 

“Right, well, that was fun, haha,” you breathe out, actually saying the word ‘haha’ and wanting to run away even more thereafter. “I should probably head back to the girls, now.” You’re already backing up and walking away when Heeseung calls out your name, but you just turn around and rush back upstairs, yelling out a small “bye, Heeseung!” on your way.

You’re already back in Seeun’s bedroom when Heeseung shakes his head at your sudden disappearance, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Cute,” he says under his breath.

-

To minimize any chances of running into Heeseung, over the next two weeks, you ask Chaeyeong and Seeun if you could hang out at your house more often, using the excuse that you want to spend as much time as possible there before leaving off to college. They don’t question it too much - next year, they’ll be able to come back fairly regularly to their parent’s houses, since the college they’re going to is less than an hour-long car ride away, but you’ll be further away, too far to come back home often.

It just so happens to be the university Heeseung is studying at, but you don’t need to worry about that right now. They had one of the best English Lit programs in your area and you’d been wanting to go there for all of your high school years - you used to think of Heeseung’s going there as a pro, but right now, it felt more like a con.

You manage to only run into him twice over the course of those two weeks, and both times, just in passing. But now it’s the night of Seeun’s birthday party and it’s impossible to pretend he isn’t there even when you’re in a crowded room together. Heeseung and Seeun’s parents have lended their house for their kids to have a party there, using it as an opportunity to have a date night, and Heeseung and his friends have graciously provided a big portion of the alcohol, saying it was their birthday gift.

You aren’t the biggest fan of alcohol, so you opt for the fruitier, lighter drinks, but still, two hours after the party starts, you can already feel your head start to spin, your voice is louder, everything makes you laugh. When a friend from school tells you they’re playing seven minutes in heaven in the hallway upstairs, you think that's the funniest thing you’ve ever heard and immediately agree to join.

The sight of Heeseung sitting in the circle, already looking at you with a lopsided smile, almost sobers you up completely.

You’d tried to avoid him as best as you could, but it was like you couldn’t escape him - maybe that was due to the fact that the heart of the party was kept to the kitchen and the living room, just a few people sitting on the stairs at the entrance to get away from the noise, but still, it annoyed you to no end that you had to keep seeing him everywhere. Maybe that was also what made the alcohol easier to down.

At some point, you were in the kitchen, doing a shot of God-knows-what with girls from school. You heard his voice before you saw him, and it made you roll your eyes but also your heart skip a beat. “Didn’t know you were such a drinker, Y/N.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, and when his face came into view, you wanted to slap it away. Or kiss it away, maybe.

“I’m not, I’m just trying to have fun,” you retorted, eyebrows slightly furrowed as you poured yourself another shot. I Gotta Feeling by Black Eyed Peas started playing in the next room and the girls shrieked before rushing to the made-up dancefloor. You wanted to join them, but something kept your feet firmly planted at the kitchen counter.

Before you could bring the shot glass to your lips, however, Heeseung stole it from you and downed it himself. “Hey!” you protested, but it was done, and he was scrunching his nose at the bitter taste, shaking his head. You wished he could stop being attractive for one damn second.

“You don’t need that to have fun.”

He placed his forearms on the kitchen counter and leaned on them, forcing him to look up at you. You had no idea what the hell he meant by that, nor did you want to try and figure it out - all you knew was that you couldn’t stay there with him when he looked at you so intently, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, hair perfectly disheveled and biceps apparent even under his t-shirt sleeves.

“You’re right, I don’t,” you made yourself say, and spun on your heels to join your friends on the dancefloor. 

And a few drinks later, here you are, sitting in a circle on the hallway floor, Heeseung right in front of you, leaning back on his palms and looking down at you with that same stupid smirk once again.

The game goes as such: one person spins the bottle twice, and the people it lands on have to go to a bedroom closet for seven minutes (timed carefully by Jake, Heeseung’s friend who is taking this game very seriously) to do whatever they want, while the others occupy themselves with other games. When the seven minutes are up, the doors burst open, and you have to leave the closet. 

And because it wouldn’t be any fun otherwise, after a few rounds, the bottle points straight at you, then straight at Heeseung, and before you know it, everyone except for Seeun is cheering, and Heeseung is holding out his hand for you to take, and you do, and he raises you up, and together, you head to his closet, as per the rules of this stupid middle-school game you should never have agreed to play in the first place. You can barely Seeun’s voice as she shouts, “Y/N, I trust you!”, which just makes Chaeyeong burst into laughter and whoop louder for you. You’d also barely registered Heeseung’s friends clapping each other’s backs, smiling like they were in on something.

The sound of the closet door shutting is what snaps you out of your daze. You hadn’t even realized Heeseung had kept your hand in his until he released it, leaning his back against one wall of the closet, facing you. All three bedrooms in the Lees’ house had built-in walk-in closets which meant you weren’t sandwiched between Heeseung and his clothes, but still, you wished you could put more distance between your two bodies - one step closer, and you were done for.

It wasn’t just Heeseung’s presence in the narrow space - it was his scent filling your nostrils, the combined smell of the cologne he was wearing, of the fabric softener on his clothes, and an unfamiliar scent you somehow recognized as unique to Heeseung, his skin, his hair, smells you’d wanted to discover for years but never got close enough to. Well, now you did. And it was intoxicating - you wanted more, wanted to bury your face in the crook of his neck and inhale. You wanted to know what his reaction would be, if he’d let you, if he’d push you away.

All those thoughts were running wild in your head. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. Your stomach was in messy knots, your hands were sweaty and you had no idea where to place them, your eyes wouldn’t stop darting around the dark room. Everywhere but Heeseung. You could feel his eyes on you, but you were too nervous to meet them.

Your breathing must’ve gotten loud enough for him to hear, because all of a sudden, you feel his hand take yours, and he’s stood up from his position against the wall, his body too close to yours for your heart to handle. His thumb rubs what he must think are comforting semi-circles on the back of your hand, but the touch just destroys any capability of thinking straight you had left.

“Y/N,” he calls out, and the sound of his voice makes your eyes close shut. You cannot give in. You had seen Seeun’s disgusted expression when you and Heeseung were picked for the game - if just the idea of you and her brother kissing repulses her, what would she say if she knew it actually happened, or if you started dating? You may have the biggest crush ever on Heeseung, but no one was worth losing your friendship with Seeun.

“Calm down,” he says, and you wish you could be as steady as his voice. “There’s no reason to be nervous.”

This makes you scoff. “You touching me is not helping my nervousness.” The words are out before you can stop them, and in the darkness of the room, you have to concentrate to make out the tilt of Heeseung’s head. You don’t need to see it to know he’s smiling, the satisfied smirk that has been gracing his features for the past month and a half.

“Yeah? Why is that?”

You take your hand out of Heeseung’s and cross your arms over your chest. “You know why,” you say, not intending your voice to come out as weak as it does.

Heeseung takes another step closer to you, and the only ray of light that comes through the panels of the closet door hits his face, making it visible for you to see. “I do, but I want you to tell me.” Another step, making you back up until you hit the wall behind you.

You call out his name shakily. His lips are right in front of you at this point, and you can’t not look at them.

He places a hand delicately on your waist, as if not wanting to scare you off. “Yeah?” He’s so close now that you can feel his breath fanning on your lips.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you say, and finally, your voice is strong like you want it to - but Heeseung isn’t deterred by it.

“Do what?” he asks, pretending to be stupid. “We haven’t done anything. Not yet.” He adds the last part in a whisper, his eyes drifting down to your lips, and you can feel your resolve crumbling piece by piece, the opposite of completing a puzzle.

“You know what I’m talking about,” you whisper back, voice almost pleading with him. Stop this before it’s too late, you want to tell him, but for some reason, at this point, you’re more scared of nothing happening than something happening.

“I do, but I want you to tell me,” he repeats, and you can’t help but let out a chuckle. Laughing helps relieve the tension, but it’s back as quickly as it left when his hold on your waist gets tighter, bringing you closer to him. Your hands that had fallen to your side come up to grab the sides of his t-shirt, gathering the fabric in your fists. There’s no going back now, you can tell - you wait for Heeseung to make a move, both dreading it and craving the relief that will come with it.

Heeseung’s free hand comes up to your face, and he traces your jawline with a knuckle before taking your chin in two of his fingers, gently raising it so that your face is angled up towards him. His touch makes your skin burn and takes away your ability to breathe properly.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you repeat, voice barely audible, a weak and half-hearted attempt at stopping this now that you still can.

“No, we shouldn’t,” he agrees, and before you can say or do anything else, Heeseung presses his lips to yours, finally, finally.

His lips are just as soft as you’d expected them to be, and the kiss is light, slow, careful. You’re grateful for it, because you’re not a very experienced kisser - if Heeseung had plunged his tongue directly into your mouth, you wouldn’t have known what to do. It’s almost like he knows this, like he’s giving you time to figure it out, to get used to it. His hand snakes its way to the small of your back, pressing you closer to him, while the other cups your cheek with his palm. You, on the other hand, have completely forgotten about your hands, only able to focus on where your lips meet.

It’s easy to fall into Heeseung’s rhythm, to let him take control of the kiss. But maybe it’s too easy, because soon enough, you start to want more - as amazing as this is right now, a slow kiss like this is not enough to have dissolved the tension in your body. You remember your hands and inch them up to his hair, your fingers finding purchase there and slightly pulling as you open your mouth just a bit wider, hoping Heeseung will get the message.

For a second, you think you’ve got it all wrong - Heeseung pulls back an inch, peering down at you. You’re both breathing heavily, and you’re scared you might have gone too far. But then, he murmurs a small fuck under his breath, and just like that, his lips are back on yours, your back is pressed against the wall again, his body encaging your smaller one. The kiss now is nothing like it was seconds ago - it’s turned hungry, hot, messy. You love it.

You had no idea you would want to kiss Heeseung like this, but now that you were doing it, you couldn’t get enough. The intensity with which he held you, the feel of his tongue against yours, the small groans that escaped his lips every time you pulled on his hair, it was all making you more drunk than the alcohol had.

You swear you haven’t even been kissing for two minutes, but then, all of a sudden, the doors are snapped open, and light pours in the closet, and Heeseung’s lips aren’t on yours anymore. You hadn’t heard the timer go off, too engrossed in Heeseung to pay anything else any mind. When you turn your head, Chaeyeong and Jake are staring at you and Heeseung, mouths wide open and eyes darting back and forth between the two of you.

“Oh. My. God,” Chaeyeong says, while Jake starts laughing. A shy smile appears on Heeseung’s lips, even plumper and pinker than usual from your kiss. His hair is a mess, and you’re sure you don’t look too different. He scratches the back of his neck, and you can’t believe this sheepish boy is the same that was kissing you roughly not a minute ago.

“Chaeyeong,” you cry out, voice already pleading as you take a step out of the closet and take both of her hands in yours. “Seeun can’t know about this.” She raises her eyebrows in surprise but nods her head in agreement, and you’ve never been so thankful for your friend as now. 

“Would she really mind?” Jake asks, looking at you, then at his friend. You turn to look at Heeseung behind you, who purses his lips.

“I’m not sure, but I have a feeling she would… She’s always told me she didn't want me hanging out with her friends,” Heeseung says, and you and Chaeyeong exchange a look; this was news to both of you.

You have no further time to discuss it, however, because Seeun’s voice calling out your name and Heeseung’s make all four of you widen your eyes. Chaeyeong fixes your clothes and hair as best as she can, then smiles at you reassuringly and nods, prompting you to imitate her. She ushers Heeseung into his bathroom and tells him to “freshen up or whatever,” and you, Jake and Chaeyeong leave the room just as Seeun reaches the door.

“Where’s Heeseung?” she asks, not a trace of suspicion in her voice, peering behind you into her brother’s dark room.

“Just needed the toilet,” Jake answers quickly, and that seems to convince her. 

She turns to you, an amused expression on her face. “Hope that wasn’t too awkward.”

You’re so surprised at your friend’s quickness to assume that nothing could happen between you and her brother, as if the idea was truly unfathomable to her, but you figure it’s for the best. You all head back into the party, Heeseung appearing some five minutes later. He scans the room for you, and when you make eye contact from across the crowded living room, he smiles, his shy, genuine smile that you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. 

You already miss him, you realize, his lips, his touch, his scent. That’s how you know that you’re in deep, deep shit.

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl (ask to be removed/added!)

© asahicore on tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works. reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

[p0is0n-b0ttle]

Two Cats Stuck in a Vent (One-Shot)

Word Count: 8186

Description: Noir gets stuck in a vent and has to call the only person she can trust for the job

Notes: No use of Y/N, instead your hero name Noir is used, no physical descriptions except for the hero suit with a set design. Basic power description for this fic is the suit is alive and his name is Khaane, (if you are aware of the show Miraculous it’s legitimately just Cat Noir with a few tweaks) the suit is black, has cat ears, and a belt tail. Khaane can speak to reader in her mind *like this* Reader is also a vampire but it’s a secret, if you’re interested in how I think the suit looks you can see my art, keep in mind the art is separate from the fic, only the suit is in the fic and its basically just the way I see Noir when I read the fic. Also this is my first fic I’m posting in 7 years so plz be gentle :’D more notes at the end!

TW: afab reader, vamp!reader, very suggestive themes, almost dry humping, cursing, a smidge of angst, blood, mentions of violence (it’s an Adrian Chase fic, fork found in kitchen), detached limbs, no smut but god are they both horny, NOT established relationship (they pining)

“—And I just thought, who would be the best hero to help find him, and of course it had to be you! Since— well, you know…” The old lady, Edna, she called herself, gestured to Noir's cat ears that sat on top of her head. 

Noir crosses her arms and gives a slight scowl to the old lady. “Are you one of those people who think I'm actually part cat?” She says in an annoyed questioning tone.

Edna chuckles a bit, surprising Noir with how casual she was with a known criminal, even if some think of her as the hero she once was. “Honey, my eldest daughter absolutely adores you. There isn’t a day that goes by when she doesn’t mention you, and she just so happened to tell me that you are part cat, since your ears and tail move just like those fuzzy little angels. There is absolutely no need to be ashamed!” 

Edna puts a hand on her shoulder, which Noir promptly removes casually. The whole being part animal isn’t a uncommon misconception of her and the other heroes that weld these gifted powers, but it's not exactly a smart idea to correct the information, since the less knowledge on these powers keeps everyone safe from their identities being revealed. 

Noir rolls her eyes as the old woman keeps yapping about how she could just ‘talk to him, you’ll probably get along‘ and ‘I heard furries are acceptable now, not that I really understand it much’, but Noir interrupts her with a raised hand and tired voice, “Just tell me where you last saw him and I will try my best to find him, no promises though.” 

Edna smiles, obviously not bothered by Noir's rudeness, and informs her of where she last saw her “baby”. After dodging another pointless and draining conversation with Edna, she leaves to go searching.

Noir, the supposed strongest wielder out of all the heroes who share her power, once celebrated for her and her partners heroic deeds by defeating powerful enemies and protecting the innocent, given medals for bravery and honor, and currently has more blood on her hands then most criminals, was now on a mission.

A mission to find a lost goddamn cat.

Reduced to this meaningless bullshit, she doesn’t even know why she agreed to this. Thinking more about it, it’s probably because Harcourt sent the group home early since the plan to stop the rest of the White Dragons goons needed more time to prepare, which left her mission-less. 

On top of the fact that Adrian didn't want to patrol tonight, which was a first. He’s usually making up excuses to go on patrol, mostly with her, but tonight he had said something about a new episode of Fargo being on and wanting to watch it live for once. 

He had asked her to join and watch with him, and said he wanted to “Fargo and chill, but actually chill… maybe” She immediately brushed off the ‘chill’ part with an eye roll but he insisted she would probably like the show. She explained she hadn’t watched any of it, nor even heard of the show before, where he excitedly started explaining the plot in either very close detail, or little to no detail which confused the plot for her further.

She declined the offer telling him she needed to go out tonight, insinuating that she was hungry. Adrian immediately understood and told her to enjoy her meal, then hopped in his car to drive home, leaving her alone for the night.

Adrian Chase was one of a kind, no doubt about it. His constant rambling and murderous intent was alluring to her. She enjoyed his company more than she would ever admit, and even after he had accidentally found out about her secret, she didn't kill him. She realized she couldn’t, especially not after he had accepted it so openly with no judgment. 

He had even gone as far as to help her with finding criminals to feed on when she was too weak to do it herself. Though she was never truly too weak to do it, she just honestly adored the way he cared so deeply about her health, and her diet. He’d torture criminals into telling him their blood type, just because she enjoyed certain types. He admitted to looking into how to drain blood from the body, how to keep it as fresh as possible to ensure it was still to her liking, and since she could only drink dead-man's blood he had offered to keep detached limbs in his freezer just in case she needed it.

She quickly expressed how much he didn't need to do that, the kindness toward something no one knew about left her far more flustered then it should have. 

Even worse, when she confided in him that she had always worried that drinking the blood of evil would turn her evil, he had offered his own blood to her since he was O negative, the only type of blood she could drink from someone still living.

The trust Adrian had to allow for even the thought of risking his life for Noir, scared her.  Even though she’s well aware of having the ability to not suck all the blood from his body in one go, she wouldn’t allow herself to put Adrian in that position for risk alone. Not to mention the intimacy of getting so close to him while on a blood high, her teeth sunken into his neck, lips touching his skin-

Her thoughts about Adrian were interrupted by a loud crashing sound in an alley nearby. She quietly makes her way over to the sound and spots a black and white blur scurry right towards her. 

She wasn't expecting the cat to run directly at her as soon as she turned into the alley, and the cat apparently wasn't expecting her to be there either, as its run screeches to a stop it stares at her as its breath heaves. 

She holds her hands out and crouches closer to the ground, trying to be less intimidating towards the small frightened animal. “No need to be scared, just let me bring you back home—“

The cat bolts right past her, so she tries strategically tackling it and ends up missing. Her right cat ear twitches as she refrains from growling in anger as she watches it run down the sidewalk away from her.

*Very elegant of you Noir.* Khaane’s voice rattles in her head. She tells Khaane to shut the fuck up as she slowly picks herself up from the dirty ground. 

She dusts herself off, muttering something about her dignity before she breaks off into a run after the cat. 

She watches as it scurries into another alleyway to its right, and she follows but stays outside the alleyway once more. The cat quickly climbs up a garbage bin and jumps onto a fire escape above it, then it runs up the metal stairs onto the roof. 

Noir rubs her face in frustration with one hand, and uses her other hand to unsheath her staff to use as a vaulting pole to get on the roof. She lands on the roof mumbling curses at the cat's invasions to her help. 

The cat turns around at the sound of the Noir’s landing, and as soon as he spotted her, he runs in the direction of an open vent and jumps into it. Noir hangs her head and sighs, then starts to make her way over to the vent.

“I should have made your owner pay me for this bullshit.” Noir mutters as she starts to crawl into the vent slowly. Luckily it was blocked off by another metal grate at the end, leaving the cat trapped, unable to bolt away again. 

She slowly makes her way through the short vent, with every inch she went, got narrower and narrower. She had to squish her shoulders a bit to fit even some of her upper body in. Using her legs on the ground of the roof, she pushes herself into the vent further.

”Come here you stupid fucking feline.” Noir says as she attempts to army crawl unsuccessfully toward the cat, the vent fighting her as she pushes her way into it.

She hardly gets her waist into the opening of the vent before she reaches for the cat, but it backs up further away from her. With her feet still planted firmly on the ground she quietly growls as she squeezes herself farther in using her forearms. 

The vent starts to groan at the strain.

*Noir, be careful.* 

“Fucking— Relax Khaane, I've got it. “ She spits out angrily, then reaches for the cat again and misses. He flattens himself against the wall of the vent, attempting to stay as far from Noir's hands as possible. 

“You dumbassfuckingcunt—“ She steadies herself to push harder into the vent which in turn gives a louder straining noise. The pressure of the metal squeezing her as she desperately tries to get farther in. 

Her hands move to go for the cat once more, only a inch away from him. She leans in farther, trying to ignore the sound.

*Noir…*

“Ive-“ She puts one leg into the vent, her knee digging into the metal.

”Almost-“ Her other leg follows.

Now on both knees, she’s so close to the cat she can feel the fur on her thin gloves. She sucks all her breath in as she finally gets close enough to grab him.

The vent creaks ominously as she goes to wrap her hands around the cat's torso.

*Noir! You’re going to—*

“Got him!” As soon as she grabs onto the cat firmly, her hips shift into the vent with a clunk. 

Khaane groans, but she ignores it as she smirks at the cat triumphantly, but her victory is short lived as the pain in her shoulders finally spreads to her collarbones as her bones start to finally feel the pressure the tight space provides.

She hisses in pain, and immediately moves to back out, attempting to put her feet back onto the ground when she discovers a problem. 

She’s stuck. 

She lets go of the cat during her squabble with the vent, trying to desperately inch her way backwards to no avail. Her shoulders never even budge as she squirms and wiggles in an attempt to escape. 

After swearing and struggling for almost 30 minutes, she finally accepts that she is truly stuck. 

At this point the cat had decided Noir was no longer a threat, and was now laying down watching the scene unfold in front of him, almost looking amused.

She sighs in defeat and drops her head to the metal floor with a bang, and finally gives Khaane what he wants.

”Fine. Fucking— fine. You win. I should have listened to you—asshole. What are our options?” Khaane hums in thought.

*You wont like it.*

”The fuck do you mean ‘I wont like it’. Just tell me so I can get out of here!” 

*You're going to have to call Adrian to help you.*

”Nope. No way.” Noir starts to frantically shove, squirm and ram herself against the metal surrounding her in a last ditch attempt to free herself. After another 10 minutes of fighting the vent, she goes limp in defeat. 

There is no way she’s going to call Adrian right? She cant be seen like this, fucking stuck and vulnerable. He’ll lose every ounce of respect he has for her if he sees her this weak looking. But she cant call Harcourt, she’s working on the plan for the mission tomorrow, and so is John most likely. Chris was never even an option since he’d probably leave her here for laughs, She didn't know anyone else who could help.

Except Adrian. 

With an angry growl and one last very aggressive flail, she sighs and admits defeat. 

“Call Adrian.” 

Only after two short rings does he pick up.

”Heya kitty, how's the hunt going tonight?” He answers cheerfully, a complete opposite on how Noir currently feels, even if his voice somewhat melted a little tension away from her aching shoulders. She sighs,

“I need you to come help me with something.” Immediately there is shuffling on the other end.

”Are you hurt—Did someone hurt you? You never ask for my help—“ His frantic worry fills Noir with guilt so she attempts to stop that train ride from going any further. 

“I'm not hurt, I'm not in danger, I just— uhm…” She trails off, unsure if she should go through with asking him to drop whatever he was doing to help. He could always just say no. 

“Do you need help hiding a body? Because if i'm honest, that’s not really in my wheelhouse. Don’t get me wrong, I'll still help! I'm thinking maybe buying like—five blenders to shred the body would— no that wouldn’t work, bones and shit—tsk— honestly I'm out of ideas.” 

Noir hated this feeling of helplessness. Needing help was rare for her. She’s been doing just fine on her own, maybe she could just wait this out, but part of her knows she'll still be stuck here if she doesn’t ask. 

”Noir? Are you there?”

”Yeah, Im-I'm here, just— uhm— no blenders needed, there’s no bodies— uhm…”

The cat in front of her decided to finally do something other than stare at her, and he meows loudly as he paws at her nose. 

“Was- was that… you?” Adrian asks in a surprised tone. Noir glares at the furry menace,

”No. That wasn't me. Look, I’m—“ She sighs and bangs her head on the ground.

”I'm stuck.” She admits.

“Like, on a equation, orrrrr—“ 

”I'm stuck in a vent and I can't get out on my own.”

There is just silence from the other side that fills her with unease, maybe she should have waited—

“So you need me to come get you out?” He asks, still slightly confused. 

“Yes, but I know you're busy with your Fargo so… It’s honestly not a huge deal, I-I can wait if-“

”Aww kitty, I'll happily come help you! I’m guessing you already called Chris and he was busy—“

”I do not trust Chris enough to come help me with this. That douchebag would probably post this on the internet and ruin my reputation. In absolutely no world would I have trusted him with this.”

Adrian is silent for a moment, the rustling on the other end stopping as well.

”… Are you saying… you trust me?”  Noir could hear the happiness seeping through his question, that dopey smile slowly taking over his face flashed through her mind. She shook that thought away quickly, the blush that threatened to show up was embarrassing on its own, but she blamed the situation itself. No other reason for that. Definitely no other reason…

”How fast can you get here?” Dodging the question, she attempts to move again to try and get herself focused on the issue, and not the sweet relief she felt at the joy of his revelation towards her trust toward him.

“As fast as humanly possible!”

————————

After a little while, she hears footsteps slowly make their way over to where she was. A choking noise came from Adrians mouth as she started to try to get herself out on her own after a few minutes of him watching her tail swing in silence. Definitely only looking at her tail…

”You gonna stare, or are you gonna help?” She hisses in embarrassment. Her face finally starts to warm as she realizes the view he must have on his end. Adrian starts to walk closer towards her and clears his throat to speak,

”How exactly can I help if you— uhm— can't be touched?” He asks warily, as if the question could cause her to run far far away, which, yeah, she definitely wanted to at this point.

”What the hell are you talking about?” She says in confusion.

”Well it's just that… You always push away anyone who goes to touch you, so I try not to… you didnt even accept my high-fives… Or Harcourts hand shakes… I'm prrrrretty sure you almost bit me one time when I put my hand on your face—“

”OKAY— Point made, Vig!” She was not about to delve into that. She groans as she digs the heels of her palms into her eyes.

”Look, I trust you okay? Just— do what you need to do to get me out.” She moves arms uncomfortably, or attempts to at least. Is that why he stopped trying to high five her after every mission and instead high-fiving his own hand while looking in her direction? She just figured he gave up, but was it an attempt to make her more comfortable? Even the rest of the group still attempts to make contact without thinking, but he respects her space…

Fuck— he cares so much about her it made her dizzy.

“Fucks sake— Ill hug you at this point if you get me out! Just try at least!” She jumps as a warm hand pats her ass a few times almost as a test after a moment. The almost burning touch lit her face up more, almost triggering her fight or flight response. 

“Relax kitty, I'll get you outta there in a jiffy! No way am I missing out on an offer like that!” She hears him crouch closer, both of his hands land on the lower part of her hips as he tilts her to the left and right. 

She hears him still as he takes a deep breath in, his hands twitch on her sides before he clears his throat again. 

“I'm going to try and pull you out now, okay?” His voice slightly strains as he speaks, his hands twitching again. Noir hums in acknowledgment and puts her head on her arms as she waits.

He steadies one foot on the bottom of the opening of the vent, the other planted on the ground and pulls her hips toward him. 

Her shoulders barely move as he tries again with a little more strength, but not enough, as if he’s trying not to hurt her. 

“Vig, I’m not made of glass. You can use all your strength, you’re gonna need to,” The faster this ends, the faster her dignity can reform. If she couldn’t get herself out, he definitely wouldn’t be able to with how delicate he was being. 

“Trust me.” She growls out reluctantly. He tries again, she could tell he still isn't using his full strength. 

“Fuck— you’re really stuck in there huh? Maybe we should call the fire people…“ He says kneeling down closer to her, his hands slowly, too slowly, make their way to the outsides of her thighs and she twitches at the feeling. His hands subconsciously twitch back in turn.

“Do you- do you mean the fire department? No— no fucking way. I’d rather die here—“ She tries to push herself back in tiny thrusts as she speaks, pushing her upper body on the metal floor for some kind of leverage.

“Fuck— Stop moving like that— you gotta relax kitty.” One of Adrians hands goes to cover his covered mouth as he rips eyes away from the direct view of her ass moving in his face. The other hand starts to absentmindedly trace circles into the back of her thigh with his thumb causing her to pause. 

When his other hand goes back to her other thigh, mimicking the movement that feels far too good then it possibly should, she bites back a groan and covers her face with her hands. 

She bites her lip as he sits there in thought, his thumbs start to slowly add more and more pressure, digging into the muscles of her thighs.

“Shit kitty, you are tense as fuck. Have you ever even had a massage before?” His hands, and attention apparently, start to move up and down the back of her thighs, lightly massaging the tight muscles. 

When his hands just miss the swell of her ass and go back down, she squeaks out a very quiet moan from under her hand, hoping to whatever god was watching that he didn't hear it. He hums in question after she doesn’t answer. 

“N-no.” Is all she’s able to get out. He sucks in a deep breath as he speaks again,

“No offense kitty, but— shit— you look really good right now—“

“Can- can we talk about anything else while you try and think of a way to get me out?” Her brain was short-circuiting at all of the thoughts of him fucking her, and the close physical contact that she hasn’t felt in years, only just keeping calm enough to remind him of his mission again as she has to fight her thighs from squeezeing together.

He pats her thigh twice a little roughly as he moves to get up. He stares for a moment at the way her ass jiggled at the movement and lets out a breathless “Damn..” Then shakes the trance off. 

He starts to walk around the vent, examining it for any weak points that could help as he speaks up again. 

After a bit, he says, “I thought the moon was a chunk of the Grand Canyon that broke off.” Noir’s mouth goes agape, almost squawking as she takes that information in but also thankful for the change in subject. 

“There is no way you actually thought that…” If Khaane could slam his head into a wall, he would be doing just that and in turn, that feeling made Noir want to do the same. 

“I'm not kidding kitty, I thought the moon didn't exist—“ 

“No, no way—“

”No, hear me out! Follow me here! When the meteor hit the planet and killed all the precious dino’s it knocked a chunk of earth off which was part of the Grand Canyon, and it formed into what the moon is.” Noir stayed silent for a moment, then responded with awe in her voice, 

“You think something broke off into space when the meteor that killed the dinosaurs hit the earth? Are you familiar with the Grand Canyon?” 

He was quiet for a moment, most likely looking up into the sky in thought like he usually does when he’s trying to confirm a response in his head, “Yes.” 

“Doesn't sound like it!” She laughs out. Adrian fist bumps the air behind her, silently beaming at making her laugh, even if he doesn’t really know why.

”Okay, well there isn’t any way for me to unscrew the vent apart since its all melted together…” Adrian puts a hand on his chin in thought as he stares at her ass for answers.

”You mean welded together?” Noir asks, feeling slightly more comfortable and less humiliated. 

”Potato tomato. Can’t you just— you know— disintegrate the vent? With your strong cool cat powers?” 

“I could, if I want to disintegrate the feline with it.” She says as she glares at the cat itself, now grooming himself without a worry in the world. 

Adrian hums in thought, and Noir thinks she hears him sit next to the opening of the vent next to her. Why the fuck isn’t Khaane helping? He has more knowledge than the both of them combined, he has just been silent this whole time.

*I'm honestly just enjoying your struggle, you did do this to yourself…*

Noir growls and rubs her face frustratedly. So Khaane isn’t going to help, for his own entertainment, now she’s left with Adrian and her mind. The latter being on hiatus with the whole situation being so… unique…

She can hear Adrian drumming his fingers against the ground as he hums a song she cant place, then he speaks up again,

”Why don't you like to be touched?” The loaded question hangs in the air for a bit. She really didn't want to get into this while stuckinavent but Noir trusts Adrian, so much more than she realizes. Which is why she answers honestly.

”I don't… not like to be touched, but it's a strange dislike. I guess I don't really like to be touched because… I crave it so much— too much.” Being hurt time and time again has led her to this way of thinking, coupled with the fact Khaane believes any form of love is weak. Everything about touching someone— or being touched— is a vulnerable and trusting process, which has burned her too many times before and left Khaane to heal what he could. But in all honesty, he can’t heal mental wounds, and when he tries, he makes them worse.

“That's kinda sad, Noir…” He says with sadness lacing every word.

”Life could be worse, Vig.” She says bluntly, she wants to be held so tightly that she can’t break, but there are so many pieces on the ground. And she'd rather leave them there instead of burdening someone else to clean up what she can’t.

”Life could be alot better, too” He shoots back. Noir stays silent after that, he’s right of course, but she doesn’t deserve a better life. At this point she’d rather be alone than be with the wrong person. Even if she ends up dying alone, which deep in her core she knows is most likely one of her worst fears. 

Her tail swings and hits Adrians leg, and an idea comes to his mind.

”Oh! What if we take your belt off?” He asks, starting to stand up again. 

“Do you really think that will help? It doesn’t feel like my belt is stuck on anything.” Noir says, slightly unsure. She can't remember the last time she actually took her belt off since the suit just appears on her as soon as she wants it to. 

Adrian shrugs, “It can't hurt to try, right?” 

Noir shifts uncomfortably but ultimately agrees. Adrains hands go under the roof of the vent and land on her lower back, and slowly, so fucking slowly, make their way up to the back of her belt. His hands follow the belt to go to reach under her, but stop when they hit the sides of the vent. 

“Huh… Guess I have to go underneath.” His hands retract, then tap the insides of her thighs a few times which causes her to jump and cover her face as it somehow gets warmer. 

“Open those legs more kitty.” Noir shuts her eyes and shifts her legs open wider. This is fine, totally fine! He’s just a friend. Just a friend helping her get unstuck. Totally platonic!

Adrians left hand rests itself on the back of her thigh, the other reaches underneath her and lands just underneath her chest. His chest makes contact with her thighs, and she can feel how close and warm he is. She bit her lip as the hand on her thigh started to move in circles again in a soothing way, but she wouldn’t exactly call what she felt very soothing. 

The hand underneath her slowly drags down across her stomach, searching for the buckle to her belt. As it went lower and lower she finally let out a shiver at the vulnerable spot he was touching so softly. The heat between her legs that she had been desperately ignoring was now making itself very known.

Completelyplatoniccompletelyplatoniccompletelyplatonic

Something told her he was going a little slower then he needed to, but she wasn't about to start complaining. 

His hand finally finds its destination, and with a click, the belt comes undone. She breathes out a sigh of relief as he pulls it out from underneath her.

He leans back on his heels still crouched and takes a closer look at the belt. The staff, pouch and tail connected to it caused so many questions he needed answers to, so he asks, “Can your tail still move when it isn’t connected to you? Like a lizard, or a starfish? Also, can I look in your pouch?” 

Noir quickly thinks of anything embarrassing that might have been left inside of it, and comes up with nothing.

”Sure, I guess. And no, the tail can't move anymore since it's not connected to the suit, but Vig you need to stay focused. I’d really enjoy getting out before it gets dark.” 

After a few moments of Adrian going ‘hmm’ and ‘ohhh’ while he looks at the contents of her belt pouch, eventually he returns to the task at hand. At least it gave her time to recover a little bit.

He claps his hands together and rubs them, “Okay kitty, lemme try and pull you out again.” He stands up and reaches back into the vent again, grabbing her hips like the first time.

After a few more pulls with no success, he maneuvers her legs to wrap around his waist and wraps his arms around each leg, bracing his foot against the vent for leverage. Noir locks her feet against his back and takes a shaky breath.

Adrian slowly starts to lean backward, relying on gravity to do its thing. Soon after he yanks slightly, then tries again harder when nothing budges. He huffs out after it doesn’t work with a few more tries, Noir reminds him that he has to go harder. 

The next yank was far more forceful and he lets out a grunt. From this angle she can feel the vibration of it right against her, and it makes her fucking wimper. 

“Did that hurt you?” His grip on her legs starts to fall, and in embarrassment and panic she tightens her legs around him a little. 

“Keep going, I’m fine. Totally fine…” She whispers the last part mostly to herself, and covers her mouth when he goes to yank again. His breath slightly hitches after he grabs at the junction of her hips and leg to get a better grip and presses her ass against him more. 

Adrian adjusts his foot higher on the vent, and a loud groan rips through his chest as he yanks again, a moan gets caught in her hand as bolt of pleasure goes up her spine at the slight relief between her legs when she feels the accents on his suit drag at just the right spot.

At this point she’s fighting with every cell in her body not to start squirming against him, the totally complete practical touches were leaving her so much warmer than she could handle. 

Another grunt comes from Adrian, and in frustration with not getting her loose, he moves her hips right against his crotch for a better angle without thinking. Noir lets out a tiny squeak as her brain goes blank.

He’s about to yank again when he pauses, his hands twitch again but he doesn’t continue pulling.

”I just realized this is exactly like a porno I watch like- just last week.” He says casually, the thumbs that rest on her hips starting to soothe in circles again.

Noir can’t form a coherent thought at this point, but after a few seconds of no response or movement from Adrian— what the fuck is he even doing back there— she removes her hand from her mouth to try and derail that thought from both of their minds.

”I’m— I apologize for interupting your Fargo show, the one time you take the day off from patrolling and of course I fuck it up—“

”What? Kitty, you didnt fuck anything up. You needed my help so of course I came, I’d drop anything to come and help you!” Adrian starts to rub her back lightly, but as he continues he starts to massage the tight knots in her lower back making her drop her head as her eyes roll into the back of her head as she groans at the pleasure.

”Besides, I was already recording it, so it's not a big deal. I'll just wait for start of the next season to watch it live-“ That snaps her out of the haze he was putting her under as her head shoots up in shock, and it hits the top of the vent with a bang, the cat in front of her jumps at the sound and glares at her.

She groans as she rubs the top of her head, Adrians hands on her back start moving faster as he asks if she’s okay. Of course she’d interrupt him when he wanted to watch a finale of his favorite show, she’s such a fucking idiot.

”I can't believe I bothered you during a finale— god—I'm such a dick—“

“Noir, you don't bother me, you’ve never bothered me, you couldn’t bother me. I promise you, you’re not a dick, and it's not a big deal—“ He tries to quickly comfort her, as much as he loves Chris, Adrian has heard his fair share of being a bother to his friend, even if he thinks Chris is just being emotionally defensive most of the time. It still makes him feel like shit when he hears it but plays it off.

”But it was important to you, and that’s a big deal to me.” She groans and rubs her face, guilt eating her alive at this point. Adrian is glad she can't see the bashful smile that appears on his face thanks to his mask and the vent. 

”I'm such a shitty friend.” She eventually says sadly, the guilt seeping its way through the statement. She already doesn’t think she deserves a friend like Adrian, now she knows she doesn’t deserve his kindness, his laughter, his loyalty. But Adrian isn’t about to let her think that way,

“Don’t say that— you are not a shitty friend. Kitty, I wanted to help you, I’d rather spend time with you more than anything else in the world. Especially if I get to stare at your ass the entire time.” She could hear the smirk on his face as he said the last part, the fact she could tell he was telling the truth made her squirm against him subconsciously.

”Alright, enough with the evil self loathing scorpions kitty, let's get you out, okay?” His hands go back to where they were before on her hips as Noir tries to sort through the wave of emotions she was feeling. She finally settles on an idea that comes to mind.

”I’ll watch Fargo with you from the beginning if that makes up for it.” She sheepishly says, the nervous tone coming from a rejection she was waiting to hear back. Instead she hears an excited gasp from him.

“For real? Are you being for real right now because holy fuck that would be so fucking awesome— It’s a long show so you’d have to come over a ton to finish it but you won’t see me complaining. I can make popcorn and we can have sleepovers-“ 

“If you get me out in the next five minutes I’ll think about a sleepover, alright?” Her smile started when she realized he was rambling again, his excitement started to seep into her chest as she felt his hands get tighter and tighter the more he went on.

Adrian goes back to yanking Noir, not getting anywhere still. He huffs out one last time in frustration, then Noir yelps as she feels him quickly lift her ass over his chest right under his chin, with his body now leaning fully back and both feet planted on the vent the only thing keeping him from falling on the ground is now Noirs stuck form. 

His hands lock together underneath her stomach. His arms over he legs caging her in completely. Noir lets out a shaky breath and covers her burning face with her hands again. 

With a strong yank, Noir finally feels her shoulders move back, just a little bit,  “It’s working! Keeping going!” She attempts to help by pushing herself with her forearms on the ground of the vent, and with another yank and a grunt from Adrian she feels a slight relief in her collarbones. The thought of almost getting out of the damn vent has clouded over her thoughts, no longer caring about how close they were, or the risqué position they were both in. 

“Holy shit— yes— Come on Vig— You— gotta— go— harder—“ Each time she spoke he yanked with more pressure, his grunts getting louder and louder as she finally started to inch back some more. She started to feel his arms shake from the strength he was using, if she wasnt more durable in the suit he probably would have cracked one of her bones at this point, but he kept going and she kept getting closer millimeter by millimeter. 

Eventually she feels the pressure on her arms start to lessen, then a familiar clunk noise causes adrenaline to shoot through her. She’s almost out. 

She can now hear the vent slowly creaking again as it fights to keep her locked in, but she starts to feel her shoulders lighten, she squeezes her eyes shut and starts to push back even more against the vent to help Adrian more. Noir slowly starts to feel herself winning against the vent as she slides backwards.

”Fuck— yesyesyesyesyesyes!” In a flash, she's outside the vent. Adrian groans as she lands on top of him, he now lays on his back with her just above him, his knees holding her upright against her chest. 

Noir blinks a few times to adjust to the difference in light, and realizes the cat she was hunting is now in her hands. Khaane must have grabbed him for her when she was to busy being ecstatic that she was actually getting out. 

Noir stares back at the cat with a triumphant smirk, “Got you, you little shit.” The cat growls lowly at her, but doesn’t squirm from her grip, he just accepts defeat and hangs limply in her outstretched hands. 

Noir continues basking in her victory until she feels Adrians hands do that familiar twitch on the back of her thighs where they keep her from crushing him. She slowly turns her head around, twisting her body to see him and— oh my god—

She’s basically sitting on his face. Her cunt about an inch away from him. Noir scrambles up, using one of her hands to push herself off of Adrian using his knee, unintentionally spreading his legs wider and he groans in what she is going to call… pain (it wasn’t pain).

As she stands up nothing but apologies come from her mouth, but she goes silent after nothing comes from the masked unmoving hero. He’s just laying on the ground still, his hands resting on his chest as he looks like he’s trying to regulate his breathing. 

Noir stands there with the cat in her hands with a worried look, and after another minute or two, she nudges Adrian with her foot lightly, “You good?” 

The only response she gets is a thumbs up, which thumps back down onto his chest quickly. Noir smiles lightly, and crouches down next to his head to look into the visor at his closed eyes. 

“Thank you for helping me Vig. I really appreciate you coming here to free me, and sorry— about almost riding your face.” Adrians breath hitches, and a twitch goes through him. 

After another moment, the cat in her hands meows and Adrian's eyes open at the sound. He looks at the cat in her hands, then up at her and her heart skips a beat as she sees his eyes crinkle behind the visor as he smiles underneath the mask. After a slow breath he clears his throat and speaks, 

“It was absolutely positively no problem kitty, I'm siked I was able to help you out.” Noir holds out a hand for him to grab, and he takes it with both of his hands. She pulls him up and has to steady him as he wobbles on his feet a bit. 

They stare at each other, Noir bashfully smiles at him then after a beat, she speaks in a monotone voice, “Let's never talk about this again.”

Adrian chuckles and puts his hands on his hips as he shakes his head, “Sorry kitty, but there isn’t a chance in hell that I won’t bring this up again.” Noir groans as she rolls her eyes, the cat in her hands starts to squirm a bit reminding her of his presence. 

“Well, I have to return this guy back to his owner… You wanna come with?” Adrian nods his head frantically, and starts marching over to one of the ladders.

”Let’s go!”

”Other way Vig.” Noir smirks as he quickly turns around on his heel.

”I knew that! I was just testing if you knew… Let's go!”

————————

The walk to Edna's house started with Adrian telling Noir that ‘she looked like one of those raccoons with its head stuck in a tin can’, ‘have you ever seen those really cute and funny videos of cats getting stuck in boxes?’, ‘pretty sure I saw a video of a hedgehog with a McDonald’s fry bag stuck on its head’ and probably every other variation of “animal being stuck” that he could think of. 

Eventually he started telling her about Fargo. Noir had noticed when Adrian gets really into rambling about something he really likes he starts to curse like a sailor. Khaane counted 26 ’fucks’ in his 3 minute rant about how Martin Freeman is his favorite actor, but no matter how many times he curses, Noirs smile never faded from her face as she listened intently. 

When they got to the building Edna lives in, she told Adrian to wait in the alleyway next to it. Edna might have a heart attack seeing him, and the less alive people that knew about them working together the better. 

Noir knocks on the door a few times, adjusting the fluffy creature in her hands, as she waits she looks over to the alleyway Adrian is waiting in, and sees his head poking out watching her. She looks away but can't fight the toothy grin that ends up on her face.

Edna opens the door and Noir drops the grin quickly. The old lady laughs in relief as she takes the cat from her outstretched hands. 

“Thank you Noir! I was so worried about my baby boy and look at him! Not a scratch on his fuzzy little head! My daughter will be delighted to know her favorite hero saved Mr. Munchkin’s.” Edna scratches at the cat's head as she speaks and has a warm smile on her face as she talks to Noir.

The ‘hero’ rubs the back of her neck awkwardly, the praise making her a little nervous. “You should probably get a collar for him in case this happens again, and think about getting him chipped, it would make things a lot easier next time around. Just to be safe.” She says, trying to avoid the whole hero argument. 

Edna starts to go on about how she’ll think about it, and some weird conspiracy shit she read on Facebook one time about someone being able to control the cat from its chip. Noir interrupts her rant with an excuse about needing to help someone else. Edna thanks her again then shuts the door, Noir can hear her sternly telling off her cat from behind it, and walks off back to the alleyway where her friend is waiting. 

Noir turns the corner and stops in shock at what she sees. Adrians hand is outstretched toward her, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. But what’s in his hand is what makes her do a double take. 

He’s holding someone’s detached arm. From what she can tell it’s their left arm, the thick blood from the ‘incision’ is still leaking heavily. Adrian shifts his feet as Noir stares at the limb in shock, still trying to put the pieces together.

Adrian can see she’s struggling with her shock and speaks up, “I got you dinner! I remember you saying you were hungry when we left HQ… and someone was spray painting in the alley across from us so… Are you… not hungry?” His shoulders slightly fall as he realizes she might have ate already, but Noir shakes her head like a etch a sketch to clear her thoughts up. 

“I’m… I'm still hungry… I didn’t get a chance to eat before the old lady asked for help so…” Adrian's entire body springs back to life and he shakes the arm at her excitedly. Noir lets out a breath of a laugh through her nose and grabs the arm from him. Adrian leans forward and starts to rock on his feet as he waits for her to bite, very obviously waiting to watch her eat. 

Noir tries to ignore his watching eyes and sinks her teeth into the forearm and starts to drink from it. Her face softens as she indulges the pure energy it gives her as she continues. The blood high makes her hyper focus, an almost animalistic feeling washes over her as she gives into the ride. The arm starts to almost deflate from lack of liquids and eventually she lets go with a pop.

She wipes the excess blood from her lips with the back of her hand, and takes a glance at Adrian again with dilated pupils. 

“Was it good? It didn’t have any drugs in it right? I asked him if he did any but he was so nervous that I couldn’t tell if he was lying. Also he said he didn’t know his blood type so— yeah…” He trails off as she starts to stare at the flesh and bone in her hand. A smile slowly creeps onto her face as she thinks about how he is way too thoughtful for his own good. 

How could someone— anyone— treat her so nicely? Everything in her tells her that she doesn’t deserve it, that she will never be worth the work, but Adrian is always there somehow batting off those thoughts with a baseball bat in her head. He treats her like she’s everything, and she thinks of herself as if she’s nothing. He deserves something nice for his effort, a gift maybe? What would she even get him?

Noir shakes her head again, her blood high finally starting to lessen. She’ll figure something out for him, he deserves it. Her hand holding the arm starts to glow with a threatening black light, and the arm disintegrates into dust right in front of them.

Noir looks back at Adrian, his body language giving him away completely. He’s nervous, maybe about accidentally drugging her? Noir blows air through her nose and closes her eyes as she rubs her arm awkwardly. Slowly she walks over to him, and stiffly, but very very carefully wraps her arms around his waist and presses herself into him in an attempt at a hug. God she can’t even remember the last time she did this.

Adrian immediately wraps his arms around her in return, squeezing tightly as a content hum leaves him. Noir tips her head down below his chin, leaning on him subconsciously as she starts to melt into the embrace. Her eyes close as the dopamine starts to make her sleepy, her heart pounding as she inhales the scent of kevlar, mint, sweat, coffee, and a hint of dish washing soap. She can hear his heart beating just as fast as hers— god— she feels lightheaded from all the feelings running through her, but she needs to stay on task.

“Thank you Adrian, you’re a really good friend to me. Sorry… I’ve… never really been good at telling people how I feel but… you make me want to try.” Noir pushes her head against his chest a little bit more, taking all the warmth he was so effortlessly offering.

“You don’t have to keep those feelings locked up in your brain kitty, people are like Guinea pigs, they need friends for comfort— or something. I will always be here if you need my help or if you wanna talk, that will never change.” Adrian nuzzles his cheek into her hair affectionately. Noir squeezes him a little tighter as she takes in his words.

Eventually she reluctantly lets go, but does notice his arms linger just a smidge longer than necessary. Noir doesn’t have it in her to look at him, instead looking at the broken cement on the ground. 

Adrian claps then rubs his hands together, “Wanna start Fargo at my place? I have popcorn.” He sings the last part as he tries to entice her into going. She looks up at him and smirks before she rolls her eyes then starts to walk out of the alleyway. 

“Alright, let’s go then.” Adrian fist bumps the air and starts to jog up to we’re she walks, then ultimately asks,

“So… sleep over? Please?” 

Noir lets out a chuckle, “I'll think about it.”

Notes:

— Lemme know what you think! I write a lot tbh but I never post it in fear of not finishing it, or just because it’s not entirely perfect but I’m taking a leap with this one! Also is this way too OC? I struggle with characters that don’t have a set story or power so… idk

— The dialogue about the Grand Canyon is from the Backyard podcast, definitely look them up on tiktok if you want a laugh

— I have so much backstory for Noir, and I have written a little of her story but it definitely needs tweaks but she has tons of potential if y’all like it!

— “I’d rather be alone than be with the wrong person” is from Death Note, also headcanon that Adrian has definitely watched it bc how could he not?

— I’m currently working on a x reader for Daredevil that’s coming along nicely, but this was stuck in my head

— Honestly there has been such a drought in Vigilante fic’s and I’m hoping when season 2 of peacemaker comes out there will be more (my calculations are that it will be done filming by the end of next month yes I did the math also editing should only take about 5 month hopefully don’t get me started how we’ve seen Peacemaker, Harcourt, Adebayo and John on set but no Adrian I’m terrified they changed his suit design or his character) 

[papermonkeyism]

I think I'm finally starting to recover, after a few years of artistic dry season.

The plague was a big hit, then losing my job and finally my social life collapsing once my IRL DnD group basically disbanded pretty much destroyed what creative juiced I had always lived on up to that point, and it's been HARD to just not having any desire to be creative or do anything.

But now that I have a job again, and have had it for long enough my bank account is stable, and having been adopted into a new DnD group that's active both in-game (weekly game sessions!) and outside of it (we actually talk and communicate generally as well! It's mostly online, but it's still more than I've had in years), I have started to feel more like myself again. That, and the brain meds. I can't overstate how big it is that my default doesn't have to be brain fog anymore.

Like, I'm doing evening doodles again? I'm actually having fun thinking up creatures and characters and plots again? I stopped carrying my sketchbook and pencil case with me everywhere I went during my dry stint of nothing, but now I actually feel like I'm missing it when I don't have it on me at times, like during coffee shop visits.

And I kinda... want to MAKE a thing again.

(Just thinking out loud again, pay no mind.)

I miss having a Project.

Jumping back into making fully plotted out comic feels a bit too much at this stage, though, so I probably won't dedicate myself wholely to something of that scale.

I don't know what exactly will be the final shape of Arcanth's eventual thing, but I'm currently enjoying myself in the fiddly worldbuilding stage. (And just so you know, in the slight off chance that I might maybe pick Wurr back up again some day, I probably won't tell you about it. After all this time and all the messages I've gotten, I don't trust you guys with that one anymore. Even if I would eventually get back to posting it online, it won't happen untill I have a full year's worth of buffer and that would still be a loooooooong way from now even IF I got back to it full time, and I still have that day job besides anyway.)

But what if...

I think an art book or a zine or something might be more achievable at this point.

I feel like the dinosaur project thingy needs some more fiddling with its eventual format (I know I already have enough concept doodles to fill a zine on its own, but I crave an excuse to go ham with watercolors and make full illustrations), but it's one option I still want to make eventually.

And I kinda want to do a slight redesign for the Singing People. (I bought a skull replica a while ago that had narrower snout than how I had drawn them. And I know it doesn't matter that much, and I can always invoke artistic licence and "they aren't necessarily supposed to be any specific real life dinosaur species, it could always go with the 'undiscovered' route if I feel like it and the Troodon/Stenonychosaurus material is super fragmentary anyway", but I'm pretty sure it would bother me anyway if I didn't at least try it out and see how it looked.)

Though I think I got an idea about what to do with Entica!

Those of you who've been here a while know that one started out as my pandemic project. The world had just shut down along with my job warehouse, things were still new and uncertain, and I suddenly had so much free time and not much to sink my creative juices into, and I wanted something low pressure to do.

So I dug up an old setting from my teenage years two decades ago, gave it a facelift, threw out my teenage baggage and just ran wild. No planning, no plot, just art.

The "no planning" part did get back to bite me when the morbs eventually hit and I finally ran out of the creative juices, but that's still a lot of very good material, right there, ready to use.

But I just thought of a new framing device that would work with the already existing material AND give the character more of a goal and agency to make plotting more fun! And I think I like it.

Instead of a random scribe with no background from a place I didn't bother designing who just wants to see the world, Didor now works for a library that has sent her on a mission [to document something and/or take a message to *place*]. She still wants to see the world, but now she has a background, goal and a motive to do so!

And instead of just hanging around at Maaro's cart while Maaro does her own unrelated thing, Maaro is actively helping in her goal! While also doing her job.

I feel that having Didor be on a field work mission would give it more structure while not having to technically retcon anything already existing, and gives more solid excuse to do things than "random encounter number 82" would. Also potential reasons for further adventures ("While you're already out there, could you maybe also do X on the way?")

Also I want to insert nawani in it earlier. I didn't even have them as part of the setting untill psrt way through, and I want to show them off more.

Maybe a travel journal, perhaps?

[arjwrites]

— Good to know bc im here to request another Castiel x Winchester!reader (oldest sister) hehehehe...

Remember when Castiel became a human and that reaper April used him? I was thinking about the reader in her place, where she ACTUALLY likes Cas and takes care of him. The reader really loves him and doesn't care that he's a human now with no angel powers, he's still the man/angel she loves and care (I'm still mad that Dean kicked Cass out of the bunker)

It's his first time being human, he deserves some love 😞 (And I rlly need some comfort aughhh)

I think I wrote too much, sorry! It's just that I really love human Castiel, he deserved more ❤️‍🩹 — 👼 angel anon

Lessons on Humanity- Human!Castiel x Reader

Summary: Human!Cas arrives on your doorstep in need of a helping hand. Taking him under your wing, you offer him more than he bargained for.

Warnings: None (I don't think???) GN!Reader, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Well, this took forever. Idk why this gave me the WORST case of writer's block ever, but.... I think I just wanted it to be perfect for you, angel anon!!! I hope you enjoy hehehehehe <3333

Leaving hunting behind had been a tough decision, but leaving your brothers and Castiel behind had been even harder. But after all the years, your body screamed for rest, and your heart mourned the years of loss and trauma. It wasn’t like you had completely up and abandoned them- you still took their calls, visited the bunker from time to time, and took on many a research request (which had always been your specialty anyways). But you had grown so tired of the life. And as much as moving into the bunker had been a massive improvement from the endless series of motel rooms you’d grown up with, living in a concrete man-cave with your brothers had proven difficult. And you had always craved a home- somewhere that could be uniquely yours. This had led you to settle down into a sweet cottage, a bit off the beaten path in a quaint little town- not too far from the bunker, but far enough. It was cozy, nothing fancy by any means- two small bedrooms, a slightly outdated kitchen, and a snug little living room you had furnished with thrifted couches and a secondhand TV. What it lacked in elegance, it made up for in character. It wasn’t much, but it was home.

It was a Friday night. You had just gotten off work, ordered a pizza, popped your favorite playlist in your speakers, and were currently dancing around and vacuuming your living room. Ah, domesticities. It was always a nice feeling to be done for the weekend, to have a job you could hang up for a few days and not worry about until Monday morning rolled around. Not like hunting, with its worries that clung tight to you all hours of every day. After finishing your cleaning task, you flopped to the couch, clicking through the TV to find a suitable show to binge alongside your food. 

Two crisp knocks at the door pulled you from your search. That was quick, you thought to yourself. You practically skipped to the kitchen to grab your purse, wanting to hand the delivery driver a few extra dollars for the particularly speedy service. But when you swung the door open, more than just the chilly evening air sent a wave of shock your way. 

“Oh my God,” was about all you could whisper. In front of you stood Castiel, though he didn’t look much like his usual self. He wore a sweatshirt you didn’t recognize and had a slightly unkempt, unshaven look to him. But beyond his appearance, it didn’t feel like Cas. His shoulders were slumped over as if he was carrying the weight of them for the first time. He wore an expression so tired, so hurt, that your heart broke at the sight of it. 

“Cas, honey. What happened?” 

“I don’t have my grace. I… lost it. They told me I couldn’t stay. I didn’t want to bother you, but… I didn’t know where else to go.” 

“Oh, Cas. Come in, God, come in.” Your brow furrowed as you gestured for him to enter, concern filling your body. What had you missed? Why didn’t he have his grace? Why wasn’t he with Sam and Dean?

Cas gingerly stepped through your door, barely making it inside the threshold before turning to you, as if he was waiting to follow your lead.

“Come, come sit,” you beckoned him after you, leading him into the living room and patting a seat for him on the couch. He sat, glancing around your room before landing his gaze back to you. You could tell there was something different about him- it was like he was seeing everything around him for the first time. 

“So tell me what happened, Cas,” you hummed, gathering every ounce of soothing calm you could muster in hopes you could offer him some comfort.

Cas jumped into his story, telling you all about Metatron, the angels, and him losing his grace- all the things you had missed out on since stepping back from hunting. You nodded along, listening intently, compassionately, quietly- that is, until he told you about the events that lead him to your doorstep.

“He kicked you OUT?” You rose to your feet as he said this, unable to contain your anger in your seated posture. You felt the rage bubble from the deepest part of your stomach, rising quickly to your chest. Poor, sweet Castiel, who tries so hard and deserves so much. Cast out like he was nothing. It was enough to drive you into a blind rampage. Cas, on the other hand, remained seated, eyes fixed to the carpet, dejected. 

“I just don’t know what to do. I have all these… feelings I’m not used to.” 

“Of course you don’t, honey. It’s all so new. I’ll help you figure things out, alright?” You thought for a moment about what may be most urgent. “Cas, how long have you been human for?”

“Well, a few days now.”

“And have you eaten? Drank water? Slept?” 

“I had a candy bar.” 

“Oh, you poor thing, Cas. Look… Sit tight, I’m going to get you a glass of water, and I have food on the way. Do you like pizza? No, you don’t know if you like pizza, do you…” You let your voice trail off as you hustled to the kitchen, fixing him a glass of water and returning it to him hastily. 

Cas lifted the glass, inspecting it, before tipping it back and downing it in one go. You watched the water slide out of the cup, disappearing down his throat in record time. There was one basic need supported. 

“Alright, Cas, why don’t you sit there and relax for a little? I’m going to go make up the guest bedroom for you. Is that alright?” You tilted your head to the side to better gauge his thoughts on the matter. Cas returned you a soft smile and nodded. You let out a subtle puff of breath in relief before retreating up the stairs. 

As you grabbed bedding from the linen closet and began to stretch the fitted sheet over the mattress, you couldn’t help but allow your body to take over the menial routine, while your mind fluttered off elsewhere. The angry pit in your stomach persisted, a deepening disgust for the way the angel had been treated, including by your brothers, of all people. But nestled in your chest above your swirling stomach sat your heart, which swelled at the thought of Cas, here with you. In all honesty, he had always meant a lot to you. You had so much admiration, so much reverence for the angel- of course, now that he wasn’t exactly an angel, that didn’t change anything. That was never what it was about. You saw deeper than just Cas’s angelic power- you saw him. Grace or not, there was no changing that. This was still the same angel, the same man, the same being you had always known. Only now, he really needed someone to be there for him. And you intended to do that- slowly, surely, gently. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your name being called from down the stairs. Instantly, your mind snapped to the worst-case scenario- call it a lingering hunter’s instinct. You raced down the stairs, only to find Cas perched on the couch, exactly where you had left him.

“Someone knocked on the door,” he whispered wide-eyed, as if it was some sort of intruder behind the door, waiting politely to be let in so he could go about his business.

You breathed a sigh of relief, willing yourself not to get frustrated at the poor man- he had no idea. Scared, lost, confused Castiel. 

“It’s just the pizza, sweetheart. Don’t worry,” you replied, giving him a soft smile of encouragement. 

With the pizza paid for, food on your plates, and your favorite mindless comfort show on TV, you and Cas began to settle in for the night. You and Cas. It was insane to see the angel in such a domestic setting. The two of you were sat at opposite ends of the couch, nibbling pizza in silent unison. You weren’t sure what to do or say, overwhelmed by Cas’s newfound presence, heartbroken by the things he had experienced, and overall just worried for his wellbeing. But, out of fear of pushing his limits- he had already been through so much the last few days- you fell into a comfortable silence that padded the space between you. 

That silence was broken by a yawn coming from the other end of the couch. Cas’s face contorted in a decidedly un-angelic expression, before drawing inwards in confusion. A giggle inched its way towards your lips, but you suppressed it.

“You must be tired, Cas. Let’s go up to bed,” you hummed. Quickly and efficiently, you snapped off the TV, balanced your drinking glasses and plates on top of the pizza box, and slid everything into its rightful place in the kitchen. Re-emerging to the living room, you extended a hand to Cas, pulling him up to his feet before turning to lead him up the stairs. 

“This is your room, over here,” you pointed, ducking in the door to show him around. You snapped the bedside lamp on to illuminate the space. “The bathroom is just down the hall if you need to use it. And my room is just next door, if you need anything at all.” 

Cas’s eyes scanned the room before settling back on you. He threw a tight-lipped smile, murmuring his thanks. He was bashful, certainly overwhelmed by the avalanche of human emotion and sensation he was experiencing. You really didn’t want to push it, but there was one more thing you wanted to offer him. 

Crossing the room, you pulled Cas into a hug. You felt his hands hover for a moment before he rested them across the middle of your back.

“I’m sorry, Cas. You didn’t deserve any of this. But I’m here to help you, whatever you need, okay? You deserve to have someone be there for you.” It was a desperate plea for the man to recognize his self-worth, to provide him with a bit of comfort during this terrifying transition. Your words weighed heavy in the room, anticipating a response that never came. But, you could’ve sworn you felt Cas’s shoulders dip and the muscles of his back soften into the hug. 

After a minute, you pulled away, snapping back to your lighthearted self. You wished the man a good night, retreating from the room and closing the door behind you. Crossing the hall and tucking yourself into bed, it wasn’t long before you drifted to sleep.

-

You rose early the next morning. Usually, you would stroll downstairs in your bathrobe or whatever mismatched pajamas you slept in, but this morning you hopped in the shower straight away, dressing and fixing your hair. Once you made your way down to the kitchen, you got to work pulling together a breakfast you thought Cas would enjoy- pancakes, bacon, and some fruit, all while brewing a pot of coffee. You weren’t sure he’d have much of a taste for it yet, but you certainly were in need of a cup. 

As you neared the end of your preparation, you heard the guest bedroom door swing open. Cas descended the stairs into the kitchen, somehow looking slightly more disheveled than when he had arrived on your doorstep the night before.

“Good morning, sunshine!” You offered, hoping he would take it in jest.

“Hello,” he responded. His eyes were puffed with sleep, his hair stuck up in every possible direction, face dotted with yesterday’s stubble that was inching into scruffy beard territory. Looking at him was a clear reminder that you needed to help him figure out how to clean himself up today. 

“How’d you sleep, hun?” In any other conversation, this would be a simple pleasantry, but in this case, it was an earnest inquiry.

“Not well. I think I had a dream. It was terrible,” he replied. His gaze remained vacant.

“A dream?” You thought for a moment- was it the sensation of dreaming that he wasn’t used to? Or was it a nightmare? “Tell me about it, Cas.”

“Well, I don’t remember a lot of it. I just remember I was running. And when I woke up, my heart was pounding and I was sweating and I couldn’t breathe. But I didn’t actually run- just in the dream.” 

“Oh, Cas, honey, you had a nightmare.” You approached him, reaching up a hand to run a thumb over his stubbled cheek. “If that ever happens again, you can always come into my room. I’m right next door.”

“How will that help?” He inquired.

“Well, sometimes it’s nice to talk about it, if you want. Or, sometimes it’s just nice to be around someone else, so you don’t feel like you’re facing it alone.”

His nod in response sent a surge of care through your body. Rather than sitting there, gushing over him, you figured you’d channel your worry into something productive- getting him fed. 

“Well, I made some breakfast. Have a seat, I’ll make you a plate.”

You pulled out a chair for him at the table, gesturing for him to sit down, before scrambling to pull together a plate piled high with a stack of pancakes, a few slices of bacon, and some strawberries and bananas you had carefully sliced. You rested the plate in front of him, giving him a minute to inspect it, before returning to grab food for yourself. 

“Well, what do you think? I figured chocolate chip pancakes would be a safe bet. Everyone likes chocolate chip pancakes.”

Castiel clumsily sliced another bite from the pancake, lifting it to his mouth. He chewed pensively, mulling over the question.

“How do I know if I like it?” 

You thought for a moment.

“Good question. Does it make you feel happy?”

He nodded. “I think so.”

“Well, Cas, I think you’ll find that one of the great joys of humanity is the opportunity to figure out what makes you happy. We don’t get a lot of say in what goes on down here, but we do get to pick our favorite foods, favorite colors, favorite people, and fill our lives with those. It’s the small pleasures that make the difference.”

He considered your words for a moment, before spearing another bite with his fork. You giggled to yourself. It was adorable to watch him navigate the things you took for granted with so much fascination and uncertainty- something as small as taking a bite of food required all of his concentration and contemplation.

As you sipped your coffee, you considered the task that lay before you. It was your job to teach Cas how to be human- something you wouldn’t necessarily call yourself an expert on. With hunting dominating your upbringing and occupation thus far, you certainly hadn’t had the normal human experience. But you took the challenge in stride, knowing that Cas had much to learn. 

-

Saturday had come and gone. You had spent the entire day teaching Cas a crash course in human life skills, covering important topics like brushing your teeth (which proved more difficult than you thought it would be), remembering to drink water (you struggled with this yourself most of the time), shopping (the two of you thrifted him a whole wardrobe), and anything else you could think of as you went about your usual routine. 

As the day wound down, you and Cas sat on your back porch. The emerging twilight buzzed, and a warm breeze filtered through the trees and wrapped itself around the two bodies curled up in the lawn chairs. You were tired, he was tired, so another comfortable silence had settled into its now familiar place between the two of you. You could faintly hear the sound of children laughing and a mother calling after them, voices muffled by the distance that separated you from these neighbors down the street. You smiled to yourself, and Cas took notice. 

“Thank you for helping me today,” he offered hesitantly, as if afraid to disturb your thoughts.

“Anytime, Cas.” You were still a bit lost in thought as you responded.

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Why does being human feel so… Heavy?”

There was something about his tone of voice that snapped you out of your daze. Turning to him, you instantly recognized the worry that was weighing on him. 

“I just… I used to be a soldier. I had divine purpose. I’ve always had something to work towards, and now… I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

“Life is a complicated thing, Cas. Most people spend an entire lifetime figuring out their purpose. You may be thousands of years old, but you’ve only been doing the whole human thing for a few days. Be patient with yourself.” 

“You seem to handle it all pretty well. Leaving hunting, making a life for yourself. You have it all figured out,” he frowned.

“Want to know a secret?”

He nodded, silently, eagerly. 

“I’m not handling it well. And I don���t have it all figured out. Nobody does. That’s the whole game. That’s life. You take what you’re given and you do what you can with it. But the beauty is, you get to choose.” 

“How do I know what to choose?” 

You smiled in spite of yourself. 

“That’s the big question. No one knows what’s right for you except you.” 

Cas’s hand reached across to yours, giving it a squeeze that sent your heart aflutter. Fingers intertwined, you settled back into the evening, pensive.  

- 

Sleep that night hadn’t come easy by any means. What had started as worry had now spiraled into full-on anxiety, warding you away from slipping into sleep. Each time you closed your eyes, your mind drifted down the hall to Castiel, separated from you by nothing more than a dozen footsteps and couple pieces of drywall. It was as if you could feel his inner turmoil. And beyond that, your heart ached for the man. All you wanted to do was go to him, be with him, comfort him. But the fear that you were taking advantage of his newly human state still plagued you, so you lingered rigid and sleepless in your bed. Just as you rolled over to attempt comfort and hopefully find some sleep, there was the faintest knock at your door- so quiet, you barely registered it. 

At first, you weren’t sure if you had actually heard the sound, but when the noise was followed by slow footsteps shuffling away, you snapped up in bed.  

“Cas! Come in,” you called. After a second, the door swung open.

“I had another one. A nightmare.” Cas spoke matter of factly, and yet, very soft and reserved. He lingered in your doorway, timid, waiting for you to give your blessing on his entrance.

“Oh, come in, sweetheart. Come sit.” You patted the space beside you, the noise muffled by the thick, fluffy comforter. Cas made his way into a seated position on the bed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, hesitant to pry but insistent on providing support.

“No.” His response was tense and succinct without being rude- you knew he was processing a lot of feelings, and wanted to give him grace.

“That’s okay. Would you like some time to think through it? Or would you like to be distracted?” 

“I’m not sure.”

“Take your time. I’m here.” 

There was a beat of silence. Giving him space was your top priority, as much as you wanted to leap across the bed and into his arms. 

“Maybe, distracted?”

“Sure thing. I’ll put on a movie, we can watch for a bit.” You snatched the remote from the table beside you, flipping through a few movies you thought Cas may enjoy, before settling on a lighthearted Disney movie. Your finger pressed play and adjusted the volume to a dull hum. 

You watched for a while in silence. As the movie was picking up, breaking out into a cheerful musical number, your eyes darted to Cas. Expecting to see him enamored by the animated wonderland, you were taken aback when his eyes locked with yours instantly. It was like he had been looking at you the whole time. 

“Hey, Cas.” He wouldn’t look away, and the eye contact was entrancing.

“Hi.” His voice was gruff, a mix of sleep and something else you weren’t entirely sure of, though you were starting to get an idea. 

“How are you doing?” 

“Better, now. Because I’m with you.” His words sent a wave of warmth through your body as you felt yourself inching closer to him, subconsciously. Clearly, he felt the same pull, as you both shifted to face each other directly. 

“Can I ask you about another feeling?” He was usually bashful with his questions, but this time, his voice was steady. His eyes were fixed on you with an almost palpable intensity, a kind of focus that made you fidget, suddenly so aware of yourself. 

“Of course,” you responded. He was now just inches away from your face. 

“What is this feeling I get when I’m this close to you?” His words were slow and genuine, and yet in some ways, it seemed like he already knew.

“What do you mean?” 

“It feels a lot like the nightmare. My heart beats fast and I can’t breathe. But it’s… Different. It’s good. I like it.” His eyes flickered as the words melted you.

He was so close to your face you could feel each breath tickle your nose and lips, as if pressing gentle precursors to tease you into taking the next step.

“Can I try something else you might like?” You could barely speak above a whisper.

He began to nod, lifting his head, but before he could complete the motion, all your defenses came crashing down, and you melted together- lips and limbs intertwining as one. And for the first time since becoming human, Castiel truly felt peace.

-

There’s something special about humanity. Sure, it has its ups and downs. There’s pain, fear, grief, death. Cas knew all those things already. They were what scared him most when he lost his grace. But he could have never known this, without experiencing it for himself. 

The early hours of the morning crept into the bedroom. Everything about the room was warm and soft- a kind of heaven that rivaled even the real thing. Cas watched as the rays of sun slipped through the window to kiss your skin softer, sweeter, more intimately than he ever had. Yet. 

There were many things about being human he hadn’t been prepared for. He had lost purpose, drive, direction. When he was first stripped of his grace, it had felt like his newfound heartbeat was mocking him with every pulse. But now? That heart served to pump more than just blood through his veins. His heart beat for you. His whole angelic life, he had been guided by divine word, but nothing had ever felt as holy as you, here, sleeping in his arms. You had taught him humanity, alright. And now, he finally had the chance to do something, to feel something, to experience something more beautiful than he could’ve ever imagined. He could love you.

Cas let the sounds of your breathing lull him back to sleep.

[insomniamamma]

Needles & Pins: Tattoo Artist! Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

A/n: written for @secretelephanttattoo's Secret Springs challenge! Thank you, Mayor El, for planting this seed. I am currently mulling over a tattoo much like the one described here.

Warnings: Angst. Talk about failed marriage. Reader is an empty nester. Reader has grown children. Mentions of self harm scars. Blood. I have tattoos but it's been decades and I've done a bit of research to figure out the current state of it. Any inaccuracies are on me. And yes, Pedro's red devil Met Gala look was my inspiration for tattoo artist! Ez.

A bit of flirting. It is Ezra after all. But mostly gentle fluff.

 A chain of bells on the door jingles as you push your way through, briefly glare-blind from the sudden dimness, green afterimages from the sizzling sidewalks, air-conditioned cold hits hard, and you stand, blinking and foolish as the girl behind the counter sizes you up, wild mullet of bleach-blonde hair, face set and disproving, black lacquered nails and ears spangled with golden studs and bars.  “I’m sorry— I’m a bit early, I can come back—“ And she smiles, big and open and wide--  “Oh, heck! You’re the tardigrade lady! Ez did a bunch of sketches. Lemme go grab him-“ and she rattles her way through the beaded curtain behind the register and disappears “Ezra! Your three o’clock is here—“    A co-worker had recommended Needles & Pins when you’d admired her ink, a half-sleeve magpie with a skeleton key in its beak and constellations drawn behind it like an old map. It’s in Secret Springs. That’s kind of a haul. Yeah, but Ezra’s one of the best in the business. You’ve got plenty of PTO piled up. You’re just gonna lose it if you don’t use it. You could get out of here for a bit. Yeah, maybe. And Moira gives you a pitying look. You both know the chances of you using any of that PTO are slim. This last year and change has been a rollercoaster ride, your youngest graduating summa cum laude and fucking off halfway across the country, some job at an aerospace start up that you can’t even begin to understand, but she seems happy, and the vice-gripped, duct taped, cobbled together thing that your marriage had become finally shat out. I love you, he’d said, but not the way you need me to. And on that humid night, watching heat-lightning flicker through the clouds, you say nothing, just nod, because he’s not wrong, the two of you have been holding on for a long time, for the kids, for appearances, and it’s like unclenching a fist. Kept it civil, he let you keep the house rather than selling it and splitting the difference, moved back home with his brothers and his dad, still talk about once a week, mostly about Lilly and the boys. Married so young that you never learned to be alone. So you throw yourself into your job, because if there’s one thing you know how to do it’s press your shoulder to the wheel and shove.You and Moira laugh together, but when you get home you start researching Needles and Pins and Secret Springs, tiny state park with campsites and trails, bracketed with BNB’s and small shops, strange gerrymandered artifact, small strip of beach that hasn’t been subsumed by hotel chains and timeshares. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been on vacation, the last time you’ve done anything for you and no one else, and you’ve e-mailed Needles and Pins almost without thinking. Why not? Why the fuck not?

  Appointments only. No walk ins. High end. Serious inquiries only.   And part of you balked, new to this possibility, had your ears pierced at Claire’s when you were twelve or so, and you’d felt stupid when you sent the e-mail off with some images attached. Sorry to bother you.   What a lovely idea. Water bears and fireweed together speak of resilience. The awakening of something new after a time of trial. There are species of pine that require the heat of wildfire to dry out their cones enough to spread their seeds. I would gladly meet with you to discuss this further.   And that’s how you ended up here, in this air-conditioned cave, narrow space full of framed flash art and old maps and framed photos of Ezra and the girl behind the counter, C? Sea? You didn’t quite register her name, flustered by the cool dark in contrast to the blazing heat outside.   “No need to yell, Birdie, I’m comin-“ Ezra rattles through the curtain. Broad is the first thing you notice, loud is the second. He is a confusion of color, heavily inked arms and a Hawaiian shirt bedecked with flamingos in sunglasses, spangled ears and a gold ring through his lip, bright shock of blonde hair amid his unruly curls. Smiling bright and wide,   “Hi there,” he says, purred southern drawl, and offers his hand, “I’m Ezra.”  “I figured,” you say and take his hand, warm fingers around yours and then he folds his other hand over yours, and you see that his right hand is an elaborate prosthetic, his whole arm up to his shoulder,  gold on black, a fearsome dragon framed in blooming orchids. You barely have time to register this and Ezra is ushering you through the curtain.  “I am guessing by your demeanor that this is your first tattoo,” and you smile, but can’t quite meet his eyes, his hand finds yours again and squeezes gently. “I’ve got several sketches based on our initial discussion, but i want you to know up front, if the art is not to your liking or if you change your mind about this entire venture I’ll not judge you for it.  “But the deposit—“  “A formality. Tends to keep people who aren’t sure of themselves away. I will never ink someone who isn’t fully committed, if you decide this isn’t for you i will refund you. No harm no foul. No pressure, clear?”  “Yeah. We’re clear.” Ezra smiles, dimples sinking into his scruffy cheeks, eyes crinkling into crescents.  “Excellent,” he says, “Let me show you what me and Cee came up with.”

 

 “That one.” A tardigrade drawn in the traditional style, brilliantly colored in blues and greens with bold outlines, with two crossed fireweed fronds in watercolor.  “This is an approximation-“ says Ezra, “I will replicate the colors as best I can—“  “That one.” You say, “I like the hard and soft together.”  “I do as well,” says Ezra, “I must admit that I was hoping you’d choose this design. Strength and softness are not mutually exclusive. I should warn you though.  Watercolor tattoos tend to fade a bit faster than the more traditional styles-“  “Sunscreen and plenty of it” you say, and he smiles.  “That’s right, and A&D ointment as you heal. There’s plenty of fancy tattoo healing ointments to be found but A&D has always got me through. Why fix what’s not  broken? We’ll send you home with some instructions.” He takes the sketch you’ve picked out, “Hey, Cee! Can you finagle the scanner-“ Cee pops her head and arm through the beaded curtain. She grins, devilish and sharp like a crescent moon. “Old man, still can’t figure it out, huh?” Takes the sketch from his hand.  “Oi! You are but a humble apprentice,” says Ezra, but he smiles, “An initiate! A novice even!” Cee smiles back. This seems like an exchange that happens at least three times a week, and you feel yourself smiling along with them.  “Get her prepped. I’ll do the hard part.”  “That girl,” he mutters, “You take a seat right there—“ He gestures towards a set up that looks uncomfortably like a dentist’s chair, “Cee has my station set up, I just need to glove up and we’ll talk placement.”  “Left inner arm,” You frown. You’d said so over e-mail. Can’t help but watch the flex and bend of him as he pulls a shoulder length veterinary glove over his prosthetic, and then gloves his left hand, “It’s a bitch to take apart and sanitize. I can if needs be, but best to avoid all of that. I cannot exactly autoclave this thing. And I find the calving glove less unwieldy than Saran Wrap-“  “Wait a sec, Saran Wrap? Like on a plate of leftovers?”  Ezra dimples at you.   “Exactly like that. First time Cee witnessed it, she laughed so hard i thought she might drop dead right there on the spot. Next morning there was a case-pack of calving gloves on our front stoop like some sort of-“  “It’s Amazon, Ez, not witchcraft,” says Cee, popping back through the curtain with a sheaf of papers, shoots you a knowing can you believe this guy look, “You’d be lost without me. Just admit it.” Ezra takes the papers from her.   “Go on now, don’t you have fanfic to read? What’s that Star Wars thing? Reylo?” Cee’s face scrunches in a cartoonish display of disgust.  “Man, I never should’ve told you about AO3.” And with that she’s gone.  “Your daughter’s really something.”  “She ain’t mine,” says Ezra, leafing through the stack of prints Cee handed him, draws a pair of reading glasses from his front pocket and perches them on his nose, “I don’t have that honor. Her parents kicked her from the nest and she found her way here.” He holds two of the prints in front of his face. “Show me your arm.” And you offer him your left arm, hand turned palm up. He cradles your arm, runs his gloved fingers over the thin skin there, noting the network of silvered scars, like contrails in a hazy sky, because how can he not? Old enough to be flattened and flush with the rest of your skin, no one’s noticed in years, but you know he must and you tense, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn’t, just selects a printed sheet at holds it up to you arm.  “This the orientation you want?”  “Yeah, I want him standing on my hand. Um, Ezra, the scars-“  “won’t be a problem, darlin, they’re old and soft-“  “I’m not gonna screw up your handiwork,” you say, and he folds your hand in both of his, gentle pressure that grounds you and when you look up at him, his eyes are soft.  “I know you won’t,” he says, “You wouldn’t be here otherwise.  We can rewrite this part of your story. I trust you.” 

 Ezra preps your skin, alcohol wipes and mild soap and he shaves your inner arm with a disposable razor, rubs some gooey stuff on you that makes you think of putting on aloe after a burn. Gotta let this dry a beat, he says, we want the stencil to come out nice and clean, rests his hand over yours while the transfer solution dries, got to let it get tacky, he says.  Not quite holding your hand but not letting go either.  “I should warn you, the bit over your inner wrist will likely be the most painful,” swipes his hand over your skin, testing the resistance against his glove, “Skin’s thin there. Not a whole lot of meat between the skin and all the veins and little fiddly bits.”  “Fiddly bits,” you echo, and feel yourself smile, “You mean the bones?”  “And tendons,” says Ezra, clips out the stencil.  “That looks like carbon paper,” you say, and Ezra grins, “It’s functionally the same, but Cee insists that the thermographic printer makes cleaner stencils than the old methods, so here we are.” He lays the sheet of paper over your arm, rubs at it with a balled up paper towel, “We want the transfer solution to soak into the paper. It’ll leave the stencil behind on your skin. There’s some tricks involving deodorant, but i find this method works the best-“ you can’t help but notice how pretty he is, face pinched in concentration, pout of his lips, those dark eyes focused on the strip of skin between your wrist and elbow like this bit of you is the only thing in the universe. “—hey! you still with me?”  “Yeah, sorry. What did you say?”  “You got a hotel room for tonight? It’s not by business, but i know you’re not local and getting tattooed blows a surprising amount of adrenaline-“  “I’ve got a  room booked,” you say, “Up over Peli’s.”  “Hope you brought earplugs,” says Ezra, “That place can get a bit rowdy on a Friday night.”   “I’m counting on it,” you say, “It’s been forever since I’ve gone to a bar.”  “Hmm,” he rubs at the transfer paper, “Do you feel your skin tightening a bit? We should be just about ready. I’m gonna click the gun on for a beat so you can hear it.”   “I’m not scared.”  “Didn’t say you were.” says Ezra, “I find this tends to go easier if people know what to expect. This buzz and my endless yap are going to be filling your ears for the next few hours-“  “It’s not bad. The tattoo machine, I mean.” And Ezra grins, slow curve that just hints at a dimple.   “My Ma always said my tongue is hung in the middle and wags at both ends. If, at any point in this venture, you need me to shut the fuck up do not be shy in saying so,” his face falls, eyes flick away a little, “There’s one more thing before we peel this stencil and get on to our business. I will need to stretch your skin, to make sure the lines are nice and clean, and for that i must rely on this foolish thing.” Ezra catches you around your wrist with his prosthetic hand and squeezes slightly.   “I do not have the sensitivity nor dexterity that i once had,” he says, “I have some haptic feedback, but it’s not the most reliable. If I grip or pinch too hard, you sing out and I will manually adjust the pressure.”  So focused on your left inner wrist and the tracery of your skin that he startles, flinches when you reach for him and grip his upper arm, brief squeeze and then gone.  “I trust you.” His eyes widen for a second, and flick away from yours.   ‘I suppose you do. Else you wouldn’t be here. Let’s get a good look at these lines before we get to fencin’.” Ezra peels the transfer paper up and you feel the pull of it, dark purple lines printed on your inner arm. And that makes it feel real.

You’re going to walk out of here with something like a story in your skin forever.   “The fireweed—“  “I know. The stencil lines are just there to keep me from going too loosey-goosey,” says Ezra, “That being said, how would you feel about some slight splatters? So the stems do not rise so harshly from the water bear’s back, perhaps a bit darker than the color of the fireweed. Something to really make this little fella pop.”  “Dark. Like a dark purple fading up into the pinks.”  “Yeah? What do you think?”  “I like it,” you say, and you feel yourself grin wide, and Ezra’s smile mirrors your own, “This is gonna be so fucking cool.”  “It will,” he says, those dark eyes bracketed in delighted crinkles, “I’ve got you, darlin. We’re gonna make some magic.”

 It doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would, and you tell Ezra so, and he smiles, bent over your arm.  “Everyone’s pain threshold is a bit different,” he says, “You are squirming very little for your first ink.”’   “I was in labor with my oldest for twenty three hours. This doesn’t even register.”  “The linework is usually worse in terms of sharp pain,” he says, “The color and shading tend to be more persistently annoying. Like a shirt collar rubbing on a sunburn.” He has a light on a swing arm like a dentist uses, framing him in a bright halo as he hunches over your arm, catches his curls in bright filaments, the scruff of his cheeks, slope of his neck, breadth of his shoulders. Sharper pain as he touches the crease between wrist and hand, bracelets of fortune, you think they’re called, draw your breath in a sharp hiss, little hooked curves of the tardigrade’s claws.  “Breathe, sugar, you’re doing just fine. Worst part’s nearly done.” His eyes flick up to catch yours, warm soft and magnified by his glasses. “And I really must know. what’s your favorite dinosaur?”  “Deinonychus,” you answer unthinking, “Dromeosaurs are pretty cool in general, but Deinonychus is my favorite.” And you smile. Knowing exactly what he’s doing and thankful for it. “The raptors in Jurassic Park were actually Deinonychuses. Modeled on them at least. Actual velociraptors are turkey-sized.” Ezra smiles up at you, perfect plump lower lip bisected by a gold ring, damn he’s pretty, and nothing hurts at all.  “Huh,” he says, “And here I was thinkin you were a T-rex girl. S’pose that’s what i get for making assumptions.”  “Well you know what they say about assuming—“  “Indeed I do. My mother was very fond of whipping out that particular turn of phrase.” He stretches your skin so he can get the tardigrade’s odd little mouthparts just so.  “What’s your favorite?”  “Favorite what?” The curved, segmented back takes shape.  “Dinosaur. You can’t just ask someone that question and not answer it yourself.” Ezra stills for a beat, and then the needle starts up again, line sloping down to meet up with a hook-plated foot.  “Ankylosaurus.” he says.  “Really?”  “Sure. Mother Nature took a cow, a snapping turtle and a panzer tank and stuck em in a blender and then tied a cinderblock to the end of it’s tail. What’s not to love? Hmmm,” he swabs at the beaded blood and oozing ink, “Hard part’s done. How about a little breather?” Ezra stands and stretches like a lazy cat, rolls his neck side to side, heads for the refrigerator, tucked in the corner and plastered in stickers, punk bands or microbreweries, you can’t really tell.   “Stretch your legs,” he says, “This next phase will take some time.” You swing your legs over the side of the chair, stand up and then plop back down.  “You okay, darlin?”   “Stood up too fast.”   “Apple or orange?”  “Huh? Orange,” You feel your face going hot, “I followed your instructions—“ Ezra hands you a cold, sweating bottle of orange juice.  “I know you did,” he says, “When you get tattooed, you are signing up for an injury. One that happens over the course of several hours, but an injury all the same.  Everyone reacts a little different. Your sugar just dropped is all. You drink that juice and you’ll be right as rain in no time at all.”  “I thought I’d be okay-“  “And you are,” says Ezra, “I’ve had three hundred pound bikers slither out of the chair at the first sight of blood. It happens sometimes. I’ve gotten woozy a time or two myself.”

He shoves up his shirtsleeve and shows you a dog in a space helmet,   “That’s Laika,” you say.  “Patron Saint of one way trips,” says Ezra, “You can see a bit of wobble in the curve of her helmet. It was far from my first ink and it still hurt like a sonofabitch. You didn’t do a thing wrong, okay?” He rests his hand on your shoulder briefly, warm weight of it grounds you, and he hunkers down so his eyes meet yours, no judgement there, just concern, and without thinking, you mirror him, rest a hand on his vibrantly inked bicep, Laika brave and doomed amid a swirl of watercolored nebulae, his skin warm beneath your palm and you feel the breath rush out of you, didn’t know how hard you were clenching your jaw, didn’t know you tight your chest was.  “Thank you.” And for a beat those lovely, dark eyes hold yours, before they slide away, cheek curved up in a half-smile.  “You are most welcome. Shall we proceed?”

 The color inking goes much as he described, more annoying than painful, like a constant pressing of fingernails against your skin, different gun with more needles packed together, ink laid in, blood wiped away, back and forth over the same bits of skin, needles dipped and rinsed, tiny plastic cups of color that make you think of a child’s paint set, and the two of you settle into easy conversation, a flow back and forth like a gentle tide, mostly Ezra explaining all the hidden delights of Secret Springs, you simply must get breakfast at Cisco’s, it don’t look like much but they’ve got the best biscuits and gravy i’ve ever tasted, and Cee swears by their Hangover Helper, it’s like a layer dip of grease. Hash browns and corned beef hash and scrambled eggs with sausage gravy and cheese sprinkled over it. I keep tellin Frankie he should rename it the Heart Attack Platter, but he won’t hear it— Ezra’s voice and the buzz of the tattoo gun and the rhythm of him pressing into your skin and wiping away the blood and excess ink set you drifting, content to listen to him ramble, like the patter of falling rain.  “So what got you here?” asks Ezra.  “Moira. I saw her ink and asked—“  “No, darlin, what got you here?” And you find it hard to speak, to put into words, did everything right, married and had kids and a house and a good job and a husband who loved you until he didn’t, did everything right and still ended up with an empty house and no one to come home to except the cat. Lilly and Liam and Joey off on their own and settled and they all call you on Sunday like clockwork, as if you are an obligation and not someone who held them when they were small, talked them through the fears of monsters in the closet, talked them through the humiliation of first love, you know they love you, they tell you every time, at the end of every visit, hug you so tight and tell you they love you. Love you too, but you still come home to a dark house and an empty bed, you honestly can’t remember the last time you’ve been touched or kissed or held. Been so long since you did things for you without thinking of him and the kids that it feels wrong, shameful.  “I wanted to do something just for me, I guess.” You frown.  “I’m guessing you are not in the habit,” he says, “Of doing things just for the joy of it.” You laugh, a bright and brittle sound that pulls itself from your throat, even as your eyes burn, his eyes flick up from the brilliant pinks and oranges and purples, and you turn your head away.  “I’ve prodded a raw nerve, I’m sorry. Cee rightly says I have no filter-“  “It’s okay. It’s just…you do everything right and you still end up all alone, you know? Lil and the boys are all doing fine. They call me every Sunday, and I know I should be happy, and I am happy. Happy for them-“  “But not for yourself,” says Ezra. And you think of how the intimacy slowly bled out of your marriage, held on so tight for so long, thought you could muscle through it like you do everything else in your life, but love wasn’t enough, determination wasn’t enough, gritted teeth and stubbornness weren’t enough.   “No. Not for myself.” You frown. You haven’t put it in words before, too busy keeping it together, trying to gut through it like you do everything, keep your head down and push through, “You think your life is one thing and then it just isn’t anymore— this probably seems silly to you.”  “Not at all. I often think of cicadas,” he says, and returns his attention to the fireweed blossoms.  “Cicadas?”  “Yes. They live the majority of their lives under the ground, feasting on roots content with living in the dark and then something calls them up above. They split themselves open, crawl out of their old skins and take flight.”  “You’re saying I’m in the process of crawling out of my own skin,” you say.  “I’m saying that your future doesn’t have to look like your past,” says Ezra.

 “The past is another country,” you say, and you can’t remember where you’ve heard the phrase.  “Just so,” says Ezra, “Just so. We’re redrawing the map right here. And it is a joy to redraw it with you.”  “Are you—are you flirting with me?” Ezra scrunches his face in mock disdain, “I would never ever flirt with a client. That would be deeply unethical and Cee would undoubtedly yell at me. However, once I finish inking this last frond and we slather you in ointment and wrap you up you will no longer be my client-“  “And then?” He smiles at you, all dark eyes and dimples.  “Well then we are just two folks enjoying the moonlight and wetting our toes in the surf. If you’d walk with me a spell. If you can further tolerate my rambling,”  “I think I’d like to get my feet wet.”

[littleplantfreak]

Currently Seeking: A Soul Connection

Grim Reaper Hiragi x Reader Cw: mentions of death and...stomach issues? that's pretty much it Word Count: 800ish Hiragi's having a tough time getting your soul, but in the end neither of you really mind that. Kinda based on the game A Date with Death because I kept thinking about Ragi's halloween costume.

“We can’t keep doing this.” The voice grumbles from inside the bathroom. You’re sitting back against the door as you listen to him writhe in anxious agony. The pills you always give him work, just not immediately. 

“I keep winning fair and square,” and the smile in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Sweat drips down his brow as he wonders how you could’ve won a game he rigged against you in the first place, though this certainly isn’t the first time you’ve sweet talked your way into him letting you play for your life. “I even let you choose the game this time, Toma!”

He doesn’t really have a choice, does he? Your ability to keep yourself alive is inherent and nebulous, marring his perfect track record as a grim reaper. It hurts both his stomach and his pride that you’re still on earth and not where your soul should be, at least according to the paperwork. 

“As much as I enjoy our chats, please shut up. You aren’t helping my nerves.”

“You like my voice,” and he hears that little amused scoff you do sometimes. “In fact, I bet you’re totally soothed listening to me right now.”

“Yeah, every time I think you’re done talking it does tend to get better.”

“Rude bastards don’t get the porridge I’m cooking on the stove,” you call back, getting up to check on it. The only reason you make it is because he can’t stomach anything else when he gets like this, though why you’re going along with him and playing friends is beyond you. He grumbles and complains about how much he’d prefer you just give your soul up, but in about two minutes he’ll be out of the bathroom and sitting on your couch while you cue up whatever’s next in your watchlist on the TV. 

Maybe it’s because he cares without saying it, or maybe you’re just lonely and this is the easiest relationship you’ve ever had to put effort into, but regardless you’re really starting to enjoy him being here. 

Sometimes you’ll fall asleep watching a movie with him only to find yourself in your bed, no recollection of being carried. Other times when his stomach is at its worst, you’ll be swaddled on the couch, your favorite stuffed animal sitting next to you as if to comfort you in your now quiet house. 

“Why don’t you just…take it?” You asked the question one day, curious since as far as you know he can just reap you whenever he wants.

“You’re not willing to give it up. It’d be worse for your soul in the long run if it was taken against your will. It’d be different if your body died, but to just take it as you are now could tear it in a way that’d make you unable to pass on, or worse.” His matter of fact tone recited it as if it’d been ingrained in him from birth, which according to him it has. 

Now, the bathroom door opens, Toma’s face slightly less pale. His bowl sits on the side table with extra pills on a napkin next to it and a glass of water that he never asked for but takes gratefully. He’d never say it out loud, but maybe he’s not as bothered as he should be that you’re still alive, despite the constant stomach issues the stress brings.

The movie nights, the way you stretch your legs over his lap while you tell him about your day and the shitty people at work…even the way you tease him for slacking on the job after he loses yet another round of checkers or when the car that was supposed to hit you ends up braking right at the last minute. Even those moments seem to fill him with feelings he’s not used to. Bewilderment, slight concern, and something else that someone who wasn’t in his position would describe as fondness end up bubbling to the surface of his chest. 

Your soul needs to move on eventually, but for now he’ll secretly enjoy these small respites where you both forget that fact. No one but him knows about the small smile that makes its way to his face when your head slumps on his shoulder yet again. Your warmth soaks into his skin reminding him of the warmth of the porridge from earlier. 

It’s only polite for him to make sure you get to your bed. In fact, he could go so far as to say it’s necessary for the eventual completion of collecting your soul. Not because he’s concerned about your sore muscles, and definitely not because he loves the way your cheek rubs against his chest when he’s carrying you. 

Of course not. 

Later he’ll put in an extension on the paperwork for collecting you, citing various vague reasons for the delay and then he’ll wonder what’s going to happen on the next episode of Succession. He can only guess at how you’ll try to psychoanalyze the characters and how you’ll react to the spoiler he read on his phone earlier. Until then he sits on the edge of your bed while your cat kneads against his thigh, your soft breaths filling the room with a kind of warmth only you can bring.

[galaxyspeaking]

hi!! i just wanted to say your work has been such an inspiration to me for such a long time. the colors, the composition, the storytelling, everything is so beautiful. i’m actually also really interested in going into visdev and comic arts, but the school i am currently attending does not actually offer such related courses. seeing that you were in a similar position in the past, if its not too much of a bother, i was wondering if you had any advice on how to self-learn the skills needed in those industries and build a portfolio! tysmm!

Hi Anon!! That is so kind of you to say, truly! I deeply appreciate it <3.

I have actually been thinking about your question for a couple days now because I wanted to answer it the best way I could.

I think it's difficult for me to give advice on this because I started working 10 years ago and it was a completely different landscape then, both in terms of what the industry and social media were like! So I wanted to be truthful and preface this with a warning that what worked for me at the time might not be replicable now >.<.

I think something that will hopefully be more accessible to you now than it was for me at the time will be online courses and tutorials. I would say for visdev (I am not knowledgeable enough about comics to talk about them, so I hope that's okay) what you generally need to learn about are: color, light, perspective, composition. If you have disposable income, there might be paying classes that you could enroll in. From memory, Nacho Molina's, Yuhki Demers', Kat Tsai's and Ty Carter's have been lauded. Learning blender seems to be a really useful skill these days. Most of my friends working in visdev have taught themselves blender in the past few years!

Re: portfolio advice I might parrot the same age-old advice but studios will want to see how you approach tasks they might give you. visdev isn't just about pretty paintings, I'd say that's actually 10% of the job. The rest of it is designing environments, props, doing lots of callout sheets for other departments. So include props, show that you're thinking of a project in context. Something I did myself and tell other people to do is to either make up a story and treat it like a movie (what would this location look like? what choices would I make to convey the emotional beat of this moment, color and shape wise?), or use an existing one to do the same (do try not to pick one that has already been adapted or done a lot by other artists).

That's mostly what I did, and I also learned on the job which unfortunately doesn't seem to be the case for juniors anymore...

I also want to acknowledge that I got to where I am right now with a combination of hard work, but also and mostly luck and slowly building a network of peers (both online and offline). I was lucky enough to share my art online and have people resonate with it, which led to building genuine friendships which I'm incredibly thankful for. I wish the same to you and I hope my rambling helps, if even a little bit!

[beom-pyu]

my wips! ★⋆⁺˚⋆｡ °₊*️

see what's coming soon:

(more under the cut!)

I CAN'T SWIM, IDIOT (choi beomgyu x fem!reader) POSTED.

SYNOPSIS:

your best friend just so happens to enter you both into a married-couple-greece-resort-stay-all-expenses-paid giveaway hosted by some random insurance company he found on twitter. but those things are always scams—there's no way you'd end up having to pretend to be beomgyu's wife for one week in a foreign country. and there's absolutely no way you'd end up seeing your childhood best friend in a different light after your stay. nope—not a chance.

RESET (kang taehyun x fem!reader)

coworkers to lovers, rivals to lovers, fluff, comedy, smut

SYNOPSIS:

working as a game developer has been your dream for years. you fought long and hard to work your way up to the top, and you've finally secured a stable, well-paying position at one of the lead gaming companies in the country. things are going well—until your head hires a new programmer to work alongside you for a new campaign. while you are excited to see fresh faces in the office, a problem quickly arises—you can't seem to get along with your counterpart. his know-it-all attitude rubs you the wrong way from the very beginning, and each day, you find it harder and harder to get anything done when he's over your shoulder, critiquing your every move. you don't know how much longer you can put up with his nagging until you downright lose your mind... and maybe your job as well.

(current word count: 3.24k)

TEASER:

“um, hello! nice to meet you. i’m y/n y/l/n, lead character designer,” you introduce yourself with a small bow, looking up to see taehyun smiling at you with those pretty wide eyes.

“i specialize in character design as well. i guess we’ll be working side by side this year,” taehyun shoots you with a blinding grin. your heart stutters a bit at his unwavering eye contact, nodding with a small smile.

“i guess so. you sure you can keep up, though?” you playfully flirt towards him, a low and quiet ‘ooooo’ coming from soobin and yeonjun on either side of you. taehyun remains unfazed at your comment, shrugging slightly at your words with raised brows.

“i’d like to believe so. i’m looking forward to seeing what you got, y/l/n.”

you smile a bit, your gaze unbreaking with his cat eyes.

“likewise, kang.”

END CREDITS (choi yeonjun x fem!reader)

underground boxer au, exes to lovers, heavy angst, fluff, smut

SYNOPSIS:

yeonjun feels as if he's stuck in a loop. every day is the same, boring, painful drag—work, fight club, dinner for ma, and repeat. he's completely numb to everyone and everything around him. why shouldn't he be? the only person he's staying alive for is his mother—if he were to die today, earth would continue to spin without a second thought. that is, until you pop back up into his life—and now everything he knows is flipped onto its head. you left him because of the way he is... so why are you staying this time?

(current word count: 4.6k)

TEASER:

“i think i’m just gonna head home. ma is probably waiting for me.” yeonjun forces a small, strained smile towards beomgyu, watching as the younger’s shoulders droop in disappointment.

“you are so lame,” beomgyu huffs, pushing yeonjun’s shoulder lightly. “dude, just come celebrate with us tonight. i swear i won’t ever ask you again.”

yeonjun shakes his head, shrugging on his gray zip-up before turning back around to walk out of the locker room, beomgyu still hot on his heels. “don’t feel like it, beomgyu. just drop it.”

beomgyu chases after yeonjun as he walks back into the crowded arena, shoving his way through all of the sweaty bodies as another fight starts up.

“you’re the most boring person i’ve ever met,” beomgyu shouts.

“and you’re the most annoying person i’ve ever met,” yeonjun shouts back, not even bothering to turn around and face the younger.

to be added:

rockstar!yeonjun x lead singer!reader - exes to lovers

farm boy!taehyun x city girl!reader - strangers to lovers

soon-to-be-married!soobin x wedding planner!reader - exes to lovers

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Including Sunlight

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 4

Series Masterlist             Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: swearing, fluff, Frank having unhealthy coping mechanisms

a/n: I'm so sorry that this update is late, everyone! I've had a wacky month and it has completely thrown me off. Huge shout out to @xxdrixx for reminding me (again XD) to post what I'd written, and to my loves @madschiavelique and @gracethyomen for helping me plot the upcoming angst arc!!!

w/c: 5.9k

You hadn’t known Frank for very long, but that didn’t stop him from becoming a necessary fixture in your life. Needing Frank was similar to needing light, or fresh air. Sure, you could go without it for a bit, but it would drastically reduce the quality of your life. 

Two days into his “business trip” (which you assumed was a cover for some illegal shenanigans because what sort of freelance construction worker has business trips), you were missing Frank something awful, and it seemed like Max was too. Though you’d tried your best to stick to the existing routine Frank had explained to you, the dog would get mopey in the evenings, laying his head on your lap with a dramatic sigh as he stared longingly towards the door. 

Frank hadn’t so much as sent an emoji since his departure, a fact that highlighted his already glaring absence. You had no idea if he was even alive, but you refused to go down that path knowing you’d never make it out of that endless anxiety spiral. Hoping not to bother him while he was away, you’d refrained from reaching out. Until Max’s heavy sighs were too much for you to bear. 

“I’ll see what I can do, buddy.” You promised, pulling out your phone and taking a picture of his pouting face. 

Sending Max’s sulking portrait off to your stoic neighbor, you included a message. 

You: I think he misses you. Hope you made it safely. ❤️

You were about to set your phone down, not expecting him to respond, but your phone buzzed immediately. 

Frank: Sorry, bud. He behaving for you?

You: He’s being a perfect gentleman. Please come back to us in one piece. 

Frank: Cross my heart. 

Smiling at the fluttery sensation in your chest, you set your phone down and resumed petting the pitbull taking up residence on your lap. 

Come back to us. A poor imitation of your melodic voice played throughout his brain on a loop as he got settled in the motel and began recon. It had been hours since you’d texted him and Frank couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not that he could ever stop thinking of you; the only thing that had kept him going through the bland, cross-state drive was the knowledge that he had you to return to.

And didn’t that terrify him. The knowledge that he had forged a connection valuable enough to anchor him on bad days should have triggered his factory reset. Cut all ties, change home and job, never look back. But you made him weak–sapping the resolve out of him with your doe eyes and intoxicating personality. He’d never be able to leave you like that, even if his proximity to you would get you killed.

Gritting his teeth, he began disassembling his rifle for the umpteenth time, hoping the familiar rhythm would provide an opportunity for his mind to claw its way out of the paranoid spiral it was currently parachuting down. Because it would do him no good to imagine the ways this could all fall apart. The high that your genuine care ignited in him was a hard one to shake, and he craved your affection more than any drug. 

Frank was no stranger to being forgotten, hell, most days he wished for it. Disappearing into the shadows made his work easier and it had helped him prevent situations like this, like you, in the past. Yet here he was, three states away, feeling desired and significant because of four little sentences of fucking text. You were a goddamn miracle. 

Placing the final piece of his weapon back into its place, he drew his hands towards himself, examining them. Given the nature of his work, both legal and less than, the skin was rough and littered with impressive callouses. Streaks of gun oil, dirt, and general grime lingered on the pads of his fingers and under his nails, a testament to the indelicacy of his job. How could he allow himself to touch you with these hands?

How could the universe allow him to indulge in something so pure, after what he’d done? 

He’d given you his name, his real one, but there was no way you knew the extent of his crimes against the people in your city–if you did, you’d surely never speak to him again. Before meeting you, he’d never questioned his choices. Wiping the murderous, sex-trafficking and drug-dealing scum from the face of the Earth was his purpose, and he lived it with pride. Pulling the trigger, releasing bullet after bullet into the chest of some criminal douchebag, it was the only reason he had the energy to keep going after the loss of his family. 

But the violence, that he’d made peace with, it separated him from the rest of society, kept him from forming attachments with people as delicate as you. Not to mention, you valued an honesty he couldn’t provide, and a stable relationship would require it…not that he was intending on pursuing that with you. Right?

Sighing wearily, he pinched the bridge of his nose, heart pummeling his ribcage. You deserved to know the truth about who he was and what he’d done, but Frank wasn’t sure he possessed the courage to break that news to you, to risk losing you forever. 

Shifting uneasily on the fraying wicker chair, Frank studied a chip in the faux wood of the table he was seated at. Rubbing a thumb over the exposed plastic, he pondered his next move. His short recon session had verified Madani’s hunch that the arms dealers operated after dark, like most criminals, but sitting around the dingy motel room until then was a one-way ticket to insanity. 

As if his body was pitying his moment of unprecedented indecision, his stomach growled ferociously. Fuck, he could use a decent meal and a hot cup of coffee. Plucking his keys and handgun from the nightstand, he shoved his arms into a black canvas jacket before braving the outside world. 

Digging your glove-covered fingers into the laminated dough, you folded it over itself a few times before placing it back in its designated proofing bin to rise. Taking another lump of the yeasted mixture into your grasp, you savored the pleasant cushiony feeling beneath your hands as you worked, the slightly fermented smell of raw bread swirling around the kitchen as you flipped the mass. 

Your heart thumped serenely as you kneaded the dough at a steady pace, creating a beautiful rhythm you were more than familiar with. It was music, of a sort; the pulse in your ears acting as the bass while the cacophony of rattling spice jars and cracking eggshells composed unique melodies unlike anything else. 

Life was complicated, but food was simple. Customizing pastries and generating new recipes was an outlet for any emotion you could dream of. Tugging at the strands of dough helped soothe the tension in your shoulders, a symptom of the intense restlessness you’d been feeling since Frank left. Though his text had confirmed that he was alive, you couldn’t help but wallow in a feeling of gut-wrenching regret as you lived without him. If something happened to him out there, you’d never be able to tell him–

Shaking your head fiercely to clear the anxious thoughts from your mind, you raced to the walk-in, once again pouring your jittery energy into a recipe rather than letting your composure erode into nothing. Stabilizing the precarious tower of ingredients you’d stacked with your chin, you tread cautiously over to a clean station, unceremoniously dumping the contents onto the steel bench before popping your head out to the front. 

“Stace, you want somethin’ to eat?” You called to the girl, who was currently standing by the register on her phone. 

“What are you making?” She barely lifted her head with the question and her ambivalence made you snort. 

“Oh, you know, same old.”

With a small shrug, Stacy nodded. “Sure, why not.” 

Grinning, you ducked back into the kitchen and popped the lid off of the industrial blender, quickly whipping up two vibrantly colored and impeccably garnished bowls for the pair of you. Passing a spoon to Stacy, you smiled as she dug in eagerly.

“What, you didn’t eat breakfast this morning?” You giggled, reveling in the way her eyes lit up as she ate. 

“Had a feeling you’d be cooking up a storm today.” Stacy replied, tilting her head at you knowingly. “You tend to do that when you’re mopey, and I’m never opposed to a free meal.”

Rolling your eyes, you huffed in defiance. “I’m not ‘mopey’.” 

“No?” Your dark-haired friend smirked. “That’s why you’re staring at that stupid bowl like it killed your family?” 

Ignoring her pointed look, you angled the bowl slightly differently before pulling out your phone. 

“It’s a pretty meal. I wanted to take a picture.” You reasoned, snapping a few photos of the deep violet mixture. 

“To send to lover boy?” Stacy snorted, wiggling her eyebrows at you. 

“No! I mean, maybe, I guess. I mean—“ You spluttered and Stacy laughed boisterously. “Shut up!!” Pouting, you shoved your phone back into the pocket of your apron and stuck a spoon into your breakfast. 

“C’mon, princess, don’t let my teasing interrupt your pitiful flirting attempts. I’m sure he wants to hear from you.” Stacy’s expression was nonchalant, as always, but her gaze softened when your shoulders slumped. “I’m serious. He’s like, embarrassingly into you.” 

“I think you might be confused about which of us is ‘embarrassingly into’ the other.” You whined, burying your face in your hands. 

“Oh you’re pathetically head over heels for him too, that’s why you have no game.” 

Scoffing, you shoved at her shoulder. “You know what, I don’t need to be insulted like this. Get out of my kitchen.”

“It’s not insulting, it’s true!” She chuckled, eating the remaining few bites of her food as you struggled to force her out the double doors. 

“Out, out, out!” You panted, finally getting her across the threshold. 

The whoosh of air from the batwing doors blew stray hairs from your face, giving you pause. Did it matter why you reached out to him? He seemed to appreciate it…

“Fuck it.” 

Frank turned the cheap off-white mug in his hands, letting the quickly fading warmth seep through the material and into his palms as he looked out the streaky window. A gray hue had settled over the rural town he was camped out in, courtesy of the building storm on the horizon. The clouds mimicked his mental state, growing darker by the minute as the world remained stagnant. 

A low buzz caught his attention, his hand shooting out to stop his phone from vibrating off of the table. Flicking the screen open, his heart swelled with affection, like a ray of sunshine peeking through the barrier in the sky. 

You: *image* It’s official, I’m becoming a hipster. I was more concerned about this photo than eating my breakfast.

Not attempting to hide his smile, Frank shoved his empty cup aside to free his thumbs. 

Frank: Well, it looks so good, I might have to forgive you. What is it?

You: A smoothie bowl, very easy to make and quite tasty.

Frank: Never had one of those before. Looks good though, sunshine.

You: Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll make you one sometime.

Frank inhaled deeply, imagining that you were nearby and he could smell your soft vanilla soap. The thought of you cooking for him upon his return warmed his heart while simultaneously cracking it in two. He missed you dearly. Drawing his forearms into his chest, he took a picture of his own food, frowning at the grainy quality of the picture as it sent.

Frank: It ain’t as pretty as yours, but I’m eating breakfast myself.

The remnants of a stack of bland pancakes and some tough bacon paled in comparison to the gorgeous, speckled smoothie thing you’d sent him. Why it was in a bowl and not a cup, he wasn’t sure, but clearly you knew what you were doing so who was he to judge? A few seconds passed and Frank briefly wondered if he’d said something wrong. Before he could preemptively apologize, another bubble appeared on the screen.

You: Glad you are able to feed yourself without my help. I was starting to wonder…

Frank: Oh shut up, you goof. I do miss your cooking though.

You: Just my cooking?

His fingers hovered over the glass display, his brain scrambling for a response that didn’t reveal just how gone he was for you. In the end, he couldn’t find one.

Frank: Not just your cooking, honey. I have some work to do, but take care of yourself and Max for me, will you? 

You: Of course, Frankie. Have a good day :)

Frank: You too, sunshine.

Clicking the power button on his phone, Frank flipped it over, settling his head against his rough hands and massaging his forehead. Coward.

The shrill ringing of his alarm shattered the remnants of his uneasy slumber. Whipping his arm out from under the sheets, he stopped the piercing noise with a frustrated growl. Sitting up was a process, thanks to the new bullet wounds in his shoulder and hip—a true testament to how sideways yesterday night had gone. Madani’s brief had implied that this would be a cut and dry operation. Get in, confirm the sale, contact her team, leave. He’d been given strict orders to not shoot unless absolutely necessary. 

Which was a great plan, in theory. Frank was more than on board with it, even if the whole “no shooting” thing lengthened the process. If it kept him on Madani’s good side, and still managed to get him home before Lisa’s birthday, he could live with it. 

Apparently, the rookie member of Madani’s team was not so thrilled with Frank “stealing” so much of the glory. After Frank’s recon session and subsequent confirmation of the sale, the former Marine was about to call for backup when a scrawny 20-something kid darted into the dark warehouse after the arms dealers, holding nothing but a goddamn glock. Anticipating bloodshed, Frank was grumbling and sprinting after him before the gunshots started. 

Pulling the kid out by the straps of his ill-fitting bullet-proof vest was a task Frank managed by the skin of his teeth, procuring two moderate injuries in the process. Of course, the knowledge that the FBI was on their tail sent the arms dealers into a frenzy. Frank was sure they’d crossed state lines before Madani was even done screaming. Honestly, he half expected the poor woman to have steam coming out of her ears–she’d cussed at the kid with words even Frank considered impolite. 

Not that he could blame her, he was fuming all the same, especially when Madani had explained that he wasn’t off the hook for the mission and should head back to the motel to await further instructions. As if he was reliving it, the conversation that followed played in his head on a loop, their screaming match echoing off the walls of his brain. 

“For fuck’s SAKE, Madani, I did what you wanted–why should I be punished for the stupidity of this asshole?”

“Oh, he’ll be dealt with, believe me. But the agreement was to get Roshev and Miller into my custody. Not give my team a half-assed warning and head back to New York scot free.”

“Half-assed–you’re fucking joking. I had to ditch the objective to rescue YOUR DAMN AGENT.”

“Go back to your room, Frank. I won’t ask again.”

“You’re not–”

“That’s an ORDER, Castle.”

So here he was: waking up on a shitty mattress, his skin and hair still streaked with dirt and blood (because the crappy water pressure and freezing temperature had infuriated him to the point that he’d cut his shower short after cleaning his wounds), in pain and in desperate need of a better cup of coffee than anyone around here was capable of brewing. 

On top of that, it was his dead daughter’s 18th birthday–a fact that hung over him like a cloud of poisonous gas, slowly squeezing the air from his lungs, and he was powerless to stop it. He wanted to scream, to cry, to grieve for her, to do something, anything–but instead he was fucking stuck here, beneath Madani’s thumb until she tired of him. 

It was naive to think that he’d be home today, maybe drinking coffee that you had made specifically for him, bringing flowers to the cemetery, taking Max for a walk, trying to have a quiet day in Lisa’s memory instead of waiting around to deal with two scumbags who got paid to arm other criminals. He should have just shot them.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a rough hand, he stalked to the bathroom to clean up–given that a man covered in blood would probably scare the poor waitress at the diner down the street shitless. As he was rubbing a towel through his hair, his phone buzzed–presumably with a curt message from Madani about something else he’d done wrong. Groaning internally, he braced himself for another argument, but it never came. 

Instead, his phone had an unopened message from you. Flicking open the home screen, he felt a weight fall off his shoulders as he pulled up the photo you’d attached. 

It was a beautiful picture of you holding a basket of vibrantly colored cherries in the midst of some sort of farmer’s market. Your delicate features were highlighted by an array of pinks and oranges, courtesy of the sunrise in the background. Your smile was bright, your eyes sparkling as you beamed at the camera. 

Your first message was a simple explanation of your morning activities. 

You: It’s market day! I bought these gorgeous cherries to make some tarts. I’ll save you one ;)

As he was rereading the message, allowing his general irritation to fade as thoughts of you flooded his brain, his phone vibrated again. 

You: Thinking of you today. I’m just a text away if you need anything ❤️

Sinking down onto the motel bed, his throat constricted as he processed the sentiment. He was surprised that you remembered today was hard for him, even more so that you offered to be a line of support. But that was exactly who you were, wasn’t it? Someone who cared so deeply for the people around her, and for some fucking reason that included Frank. 

Typing and retyping a response to you, Frank blew out a breath. He felt almost…jittery. 

Frank: Thanks, sunshine. That means a lot. I’m looking forward to that cherry tart when I get back. 

You: I’ll make you as many as you want, Frankie. 

Lips twitching, he imagined you whirling around your kitchen in one of your signature patterned dresses making him a special batch of pastries. His heart squeezed painfully; your absence was taking a toll on him that he had not expected. Before he could consider his next message to you, Madani’s number flashed on the screen, indicating an incoming call. Lips curling into a silent snarl, he answered. 

“What, Madani?” He rumbled out.

“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine.” Her response wasn’t meant to dig under his skin, she simply meant it as a superficial jab, but the inclusion of the pet name he associated with you ignited a white hot anger in his gut, feral and hungry. 

“The fuck do you want,” He bit out. 

“Watch your tone, Castle. Remember who owes whom a favor here.”

Rolling his eyes, he brought out a more polite tone. “Yes, ma’am.”  

She huffed across the line, “Fuck you too. We found them. I’ll send the coordinates now.” 

“Lookin’ forward to it.” He ended the call.

Stretching your legs as best you could beneath the hefty pitbull, you sighed. 

It had been hours since Frank’s last text and you were not handling it well–the image of the little typing bubble on his side of the text chain haunting your every moment. Logically, the presence of those three flashing dots just meant he had started to type something and then forgot or had something else to attend to, but that knowledge didn’t quell the anxiety growing in your chest. 

He was out there, doing god knows what, on his daughter’s 18th birthday, presumably alone and hurting–and there was nothing you could do but wait. And cook him a lasagna of course. Which you had, giving your apartment the pleasant aroma of onions, tomatoes, and ricotta cheese as the dish baked. 

Your consciousness vibrated with the tenacity of an anxious chihuahua, listless with boredom and concern about your sweetheart of a neighbor. Squirming out from under Max’s head, you chuckled as the sleepy pitbull huffed in annoyance. “Sorry, bubba. I need to move around.”

In the final 30 minutes that you lasagna baked, you managed to throw together some simple pastry dough and pull out the small basket of cherries from your fridge. Popping one of the scarlet fruits into your mouth, you began to pluck the remaining stems off before removing their pits. Once they’d been sufficiently prepped, and your hands were adequately smattered with droplets of maroon fruit juice, you dumped them unceremoniously into a pot to create a compote. It didn’t necessarily pair well with lasagna, but you’d promised Frank a cherry pastry. 

Originally, you’d considered making him a cherry basil frangipane, identical to the ones you’d stacked in the bakery’s display case that morning. But, after the day he’d probably had, you figured he’d want something…less intricate. The compliment you’d given him during his first visit to the cafe still held true–Frank was simple and honest. He wasn’t difficult to please, but fancy words and expensive ingredients alone wouldn’t cut it. The food had to be good. So, you pulled out all the stops, making a recipe that you hadn’t made since you lived with Leo: cherry turnovers. 

Unlike your wonderful neighbor, the majority of patrons in the city needed a reason besides quality to continue giving you business. Elaborately decorated pastries and unique flavor profiles were what kept the cafe in business, so you hadn’t tried selling a modest dessert like these since your first few weeks at the Rainy Day Bakery. It was familiar, comforting even. You hoped it would bring Frank similar satisfaction. 

Trading the bubbling lasagna for a tray of triangle-shaped pastries, you brushed your hands on your hips. Re-covering the pasta dish, you hurriedly cleaned your kitchen, wiping away the traces of flour and sugar that inevitably dusted your countertops after you baked. As you rinsed out the mixing bowl, a high-pitched whimper popped the bubble of silence surrounding your apartment. Sitting rigidly by the door to your apartment, Max’s dark eyes pleaded with you. 

“Gosh, you’re right, bud! It is dinner time. I’m sorry, I got carried away. Let’s go get you set up, huh?” 

Snatching Frank’s spare key from your counter, you attached Max’s thick leash to his collar and jogged him back to his apartment, adding an extra handful of kibble as an apology for making him wait. Stroking his short fur a few times, you slipped the key into your pocket, scurrying back over to your apartment to grab the turnovers before they caught fire and reduced the building to ashes. 

Carefully balancing the pastries and lasagna in your hands, you marched back over to Frank’s apartment. Pretty soon, and with only one close call, the food was lined up on Frank’s countertop to cool. Brushing your hands together, you admired your handiwork. 

“Please tell me ya haven’t been sittin’ here with the door open all night.” 

The gruff voice behind you made you jump in shock. Whirling around, your fear morphed into pure joy as you took in the ruggedly handsome man before you.

“Shit, Frankie! You snuck up on me.” You practically squealed, rushing to hug him in greeting. He grunted as you slammed against him, hissing as you squeezed your arms around his hips. Eyes widening in realization, you started to pull back. “Oh fuck, you’re hurt, aren’t you? I’m so sorry, I–” 

Before you could unwrap your arms from his body, his broad hands splayed across your back, muscular arms tugging you back against his firm chest. 

“‘M fine, honey.” Came Frank’s soothing rumble. You felt him press a kiss to your crown before he buried his face in your hair. “Missed you like crazy, sunshine.” His voice was soft, as if he didn’t want you to hear the darling confession. 

“God, I missed you too, Frankie.” You chuckled, your eyes prickling with tears, your body in awe of your own honesty. With his stubbled chin atop your head and his thick arms around your waist, you felt entirely sheltered by his body. He’d created a bubble of safety and serenity for you, as he always did. 

Remaining in his arms, you shifted out from under his head to examine him. Though you’d felt it across your scalp, his beard was noticeably overgrown and in need of a trim. His hair greasy and mussed, streaked with grime, just like his face. The skin of his face was tinged red, with blush or sunburn you weren’t quite sure, and the bags under his eyes were deep. In spite of yourself, your bottom lip stuck out, brow pinching in concern. Bringing a hand up to cradle his face, you stroked a thumb gently over his cheek, careful to avoid the sizeable bruise across it. 

“Oh sweetheart. What did they do to you?” You asked quietly, feeling choked up as the hulking man nuzzled into your touch, his eyes falling shut with a weary sigh. 

“It’s nothin’.” He murmured, his words worn out—as if he’d spoken them so many times they’d lost all meaning. 

“Then it shouldn’t take long to get you cleaned up.” You smiled, the gesture not making it to your eyes. Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed a kiss to his prickly cheek before unwinding his arms from your waist. He started to retract his arms, to tuck them against his sides, but you caught his fingers with yours, grasping his hands tenderly. “Come sit, sweetheart. You must be exhausted.” 

The poor man didn’t argue. Instead, he let you tug him to the couch and sit him down, his lips twitching with fond amusement when you tucked a blanket around his shoulders. “This ain’t mine.” 

You shrugged, the hint of a smirk tugging at your lips. “I redecorated.” 

“I was barely gone three days.” Frank snorted, rolling his eyes at you. 

Poorly stifling a smile as you pretended to be annoyed, you spoke as though it was obvious why you’d done it. “Your apartment is freezing, Frank. Did you want me and Max to get hypothermia while you were gone?” 

He huffed a laugh. “Still bossy.” Letting his head tip back to meet the spine of the couch, his eyes fluttered shut. Your cool touch manifested on his cheek once again. 

“Do you have a first aid kit, Frankie?” 

“Under the bathroom sink.” He answered, his words slurred ever so slightly with fatigue. He received a slight squeeze of his arm in response, your warm fingers leaving a lasting imprint on his skin. 

A year ago, he would never have let himself have this—a moment of peace. Time to let his guard down, to trust someone else to ease his pain. But the combination of his aching body, his heavy eyelids, and your fussing nature had him letting go of a tension he’d held for years, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Soft footsteps alerted him to your presence. Though his eyes were closed, he could hear you shuffle into a crouch, your chest positioned at his knees. 

Stifling a groan, he straightened his posture, wincing slightly as the motion tugged on his day old stitches. His eyes immediately focused on your adorable form in front of him, your own gaze roaming over the various bruises covering his visible skin. Dipping a washcloth into a small bowl of water, you gently lifted his wrist, washing away the dried blood on his knuckles. As you worked, a small river of dirty water–tinged pink from his scarlet blood–dripped down his fingers and onto your dress. 

He watched the trio of droplets fall, time slowing as if to highlight the moment that reignited his anxiety. Splashing across the multicolored fabric, the liquid seeped into your skirt, staining it as you held his hand. Your kindness was endless, and his presence was tarnishing it, ruining it, ruining you. 

Jerking his hand backwards, he cradled it close to his chest. “Lemme do this. I’m gettin’ blood on your pretty dress, sunshine.” He started to stand but you shook your head, gently pushing him back into the cushion and taking his hand in your grasp once again. 

Looking directly into his eyes with an intensity that you always seemed to carry, your lips curved into a small smile. “Frank, it’s just a dress, sweetheart. I promise it’s ok. Let me help you?” With your free hand, you stroked a wayward strand of his hair off of his clammy forehead.

Despite the fact that your gaze conveyed your desire to continue patching him up regardless of his answer, your tone was stilted–giving him the option to deny your help. 

“You’re too sweet for your own damn good, you know.” He sighed, letting his arm go limp in your grip to let you finish what you’d started. 

“Well, you’re too stoic for yours. Makes us quite a pair, doesn’t it?” Your eyes glimmered roguishly, your smirk encouraging him to roll his eyes. 

“Whatever you say, sunshine.” He snorted, knowing full well that you were right. 

You made quick work of tidying up the split skin across his knuckles, moving on to the bruised skin of his cheeks. 

“Didn’t know you were growing this out, Frankie.” You quipped, tugging gently on the untamed curls of his beard. 

His lips twitched, revealing a glimpse of his teeth as he smiled. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it. Whaddya think?” 

Making a great show of shuffling back to study his face, you tapped your chin. “I like it.” 

“You do? Last time it was this long, everyone thought I was some sort of hipster.” 

Shrugging, you focused your eyes back on the cloth in your hand. “I always like how you look, Frankie.” 

Frank’s breath caught in his throat, unable to quite make it to his lungs. Thankfully, he could blame his lack of response on the fact that you were rinsing the injuries on his face, rather than his own lack of emotional intelligence. 

Eventually, you heaved out a breath, looking at him with a raised brow. “Did you want me to look at whatever’s bothering you here?” You asked, gesturing to his hip. 

“If I told ya I have no idea what you mean, would ya call me on it?” He grumbles, not quite sure how he’d feel revealing that much of himself to you. 

You thought for a minute. Nodding once, you answered. “I’d roll my eyes, but respect your desire for privacy.” 

Swallowing thickly, he huffed a nervous laugh. “Fair enough.” With two fingers, he tugged his loose shirt up and over his head, not bothering to disguise his grimace as he rotated his injured shoulder. Pulling the waistband of his pants down an inch, he suddenly felt a surge of fear, not sure how you’d react to seeing his array of scars. 

Inhaling sharply, you traced around his stitches with a finger. “Oh, Frank.” 

“It’s—“

“It’s not nothing.” Taking his hands again, your intensity returned. “You mean something to me. Seeing you hurt…it’s never nothing, ok? Not to me.”

A lump formed in his throat, he nodded as he tried to swallow it down. “Sorry.” 

“No apology necessary,” You squeezed his hands, placing a tender kiss on the raw knuckles of his right hand before grabbing a roll of bandages from your pile of supplies. “I’m not upset that you’re hurt. I just don’t want you to be afraid to lean on someone else for a change.” 

You dressed his larger wounds in contemplative silence, your soft skin a welcome change to the rough contact he was used to. 

“How’d ya learn to patch people up, sunshine? Playin’ nurse for other neighborhood menaces behind my back?” 

You giggled. “You’re my only patient currently. Cross my heart. I’ve just gotten used to first aid after injuring myself my whole life.” 

Bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, Frank’s brow furrowed. “Injurin’ yourself? What do you mean?” 

Eyes widening in realization, you shook your head. “Not intentionally! I’ve just been a klutz for as long as I can remember.” Chuckling sheepishly, you added, “Takes a toll every once in a while.” 

Laughing with relief, he traced a finger along your jaw as he withdrew his hand from your face. “Ah, gotcha. Christ, had me scared there, pretty girl.” 

Your face flushed with heat at the new pet name. You tied off the fresh bandages and stood up. “You should be good to go, unless you’ve got any other areas that need to be looked at?” 

Blushing as his mind traveled to less innocent places, he shook his head. “I’m fine, honey. Thank you. Really.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” You winked at him, heading to the kitchen to dispose of the dirty water and trash. As you rinsed the last of the grime from the bowl you’d used, Frank moaned behind you. 

“Holy shit.” His words were mumbled around a mouthful of pastry, the other half of a cherry turnover in his hand. Swallowing with another horrifically attractive noise, he lifted the dessert in a gesture. “Did you make these?” 

“Yes, but they were for after dinner!” You scolded, your smile completely betraying your feigned annoyance. “Cherry turnovers. Do you like them?”

“No, they’re awful.” Frank deadpanned, shoving the rest of the pastry into his mouth ungracefully. You giggled, uncovering the lasagna before he could reach for another turnover. 

“Would you like some actual food, you heathen?” You asked through stray laughs. 

“You made me a lasagna?” 

“Thought you might want some comfort food today. So I made two of my favorites.” 

“Thank you,” Frank spoke your name gravely, as if it was a prayer. “God, sunshine, I dunno what to say.” Your heart ached as his voice cracked around the words.

“You don’t need to say anything, handsome. Just eat, so you can rest soon, yah?” 

Frank couldn’t help but let the tension he’d been carrying for days roll off his back like droplets of water, his eyes crinkling with fondness as you puttered around his kitchen as if you had it memorized. You plated two hearty servings of lasagna and took a seat next to him, handing him a fork. 

“I’m glad you made it back safely.” You smiled, your gaze more timid than he’d ever seen it. 

“Me too, sunshine.” After placing a kiss on your forehead, he speared the fork into the food on his plate, taking a massive bite. 

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.” Frank groaned, beaming at you. 

Laughing brightly, you took a bite of your own, overjoyed to have Frank to eat with again. 

Thanks for reading! As always, comments and reblogs are incredibly appreciated.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484@xxdrix@smhnxdiii@mattmurdocksstarlight@danzer8705

[raynetheinsane]

Batfam (and friends) as Henry Danger quotes

(Because im a nerd and love this show)

Damian: Tt, my parties arent that bad

Jon: Christmas. 3 years ago. 15 kids ended up in the hospital!

Damian: FATHER!!!

Tim: Damian! Were trying to study here *indicates to Duke and Steph, both clearly not studying*

Damian: I’m talking to my Father.

Robin!Jason: Dangit! All these jobs say i gotta have skills..

Dick: You have skills!

Jason: Name one.

Dick: You’re a great dancer!

Jason: No I’m not?

Dick: You could take lessons.

(More under the cut i just dont want this to be super duper long)

Bruce: How old are you?

Tim, trying to become robin: Im 13, I’ll be 14. On my next birthday

Dick: Ah so youre aging sequentially

Tim, extremely tired: Do you ever dream about sleeping?

Steph, extremely confused:…no??

Tim: good. If you did youd be dead.

Bruce: Lets ride.

Robin!Jason who is very new to this: Wha- Ride where?

Bruce: We’ve got people in the Jandy River that need saving.

Bruce: Come on.

Jason: You mean we’re going there? Together? Like right now?

Tim, extremely dirty and has a cut on his face walking into Drake Manor:

Jack, not paying attention: Hey Tim, did you get the job?

Tim: Yeah, just finished my first day.

Jack: So hows work?

Tim: Uh it was pretty… interesting.

Bernard: Hey, you never told us what you do at your new job

Tim: *just stares wide eyed silently*

Bruce: While we were patrolling, Poison Ivy stole packs of baby bottles, can you guess why?

Robin!Dick: Uhhh

Bruce: To flood the bottles with radioactive plant matter.

Dick: I would not have guessed that.

Jason: I see youre in your pajama pants.

Tim: Yeah its almost midnight, I was studying for this test i have tomorrow

Jason: What subject?

Tim: Puerto Rican history

Jason: Ah Puerto Rico… land of…

Tim: Puerto Ricans?

Jason: yeah..

Red Hood: Strike three.

Spoiler: That was only 2

Hood: Okay, don’t correct me in front of the criminals

Duke: Whats in the mug?

Tim, who just poured himself and entire pot of coffee despite hating it: Coffee.

Tim: To keep me alive.

Duke: no, no, no, no, you cannot drink this much coffee after work. This mug is comedically large!

Steph: I have the same dream all the time. It satrts with me getting a horse for my birthday. Then my dad shows up. Then the horse kicks my dad in the face!

Jason, helping Tim study: You want a good grade on your puerto rican math test?

Tim: history

Jason, who died before he finished highschool: Same thing

Non-Bat who needs the antidote for Joker gas or something: Will this hurt?

Black Bat: Yes, very much.

Bernard, talking about a criminal the Bats cant catch: Its not Batmans fault, he just needs a better sidekick

Tim: One more time.

Bernard, who knows: Just saying, I’d be way better at catching criminals than the current Robin

Dick: I’m gonna die..

Jason: Not in the house. If you’re gonna die, do it outside

Tim: I’m Robin.

Bernard: I know. I figured that out.

Damian: Todd, I wish to speak to you about something.

Jason: BABIES COME FROM THE BABY STORE

Oracle: Steph, come to Gotham Park right now!

Steph: noo, I’m not in the mood for trees

Oracle: did i ask you what youre in the mood for?

Vikki Vale: So, Spoiler, how did you catch Two Face?

Spoiler: I’d love to take all the credit, but it was really all thanks to my partner, Black Bat.

Vikki: Interesting. Black Bat, can you tell us more?

Black Bat: No.

It really bothers me the lack of Babs, Cass, and Duke worthy quotes there are 😔😔 also my personal favs show a lot and im sorry for that, but there will be more as i think of them, these are just eps 1-4, the rest will be posted like in a queue or something and as single quotes cus im eepy

[nordicpoppie]

Mafia au - You're protective of his child - Hyung line

This is a mafia reaction, meaning guns, cursing and violence and the like may be mentioned (Nothing too much in detail in this one) In this reaction reader is NOT the birth mother of the child, which is why members will be surprised or happy reader is so protective…even if it’s overprotectiveness heheee The kids are NOT toddlers in this one, they are anywhere between 6 and 15 years old, so sorry if you wanted toddlers XD Y/N → Your Name

Jin (13 years old)

“Are you sure you don’t need me or your dad to walk with you? I’d be more than happy to, even if it’s just halfway there”

You said while Yerin, Jin's daughter threw her jacket on. Jin had, for some reason you couldn’t comprehend, allowed her to walk to school, with no guards.

At the start of your relationship with Jin, you hadn't even known he had a daughter. And you had been confused many times by his protective tendencies, but as you’d later found out, that was because of his “job”. As a part of the mafia, he needed to protect those closest to him, which meant you and Yerin always had at least 1 guard with you.

Over time his tendencies to be overprotective had rubbed off on you, except you were a little less, “lets fire guns”, and more of a “let's stay inside”. 

You reluctantly handed Yerin her bag, as she stretched her arms out for it. Then smiled tightly at her as she smiled brightly saying her goodbyes to you, before she closed the door behind her.

As soon as the door was closed you rushed through the hallways, reaching Jin's study in no time. You threw the door open without bothering knocking first.

“Jin, why are you letting her walk without her guards? Or even just one of us?”

Staring harshly at him, not caring that he was clearly busy with some papers, while Namjoon and Yoongi leaned over the desk.

Jin slowly raised his gaze to you, while Yoongi quietly sniggered under his breath at your anger. The look Jin sent you almost sent you reeling, he looked confused, as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

“Your daughter Jin, Yerin? You just let her walk out the door ALONE!”

You hissed angrily at him, your arm gesturing to where the front door was located.

“She’s not alone though?”

You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion, the only person who had walked out the door was Yerin. As you opened your mouth to explain that, Jin interrupted you.

“Jungkook is shadowing her, and he’s picking her up from school later today too”

His brows were still pinched in slight confusion, how could even think he would let his precious daughter leave without a guard.

“O-oh, I just, she said she would be walking…Alone”

You trailed off as a slight blush made its appearance on your cheeks. Desperate to find a way to escape the now almost embarrassing situation you made up a lousy excuse.

“I’ll just…Uh…Start cooking”

With that you made your escape out of the door, only making it a few steps down the hallway before Jin grabbed you by the arm. He wore a huge smirk on his face, and you could hear Yoongi cackling from inside his office.

“I didn’t think you’d be able to beat me when it comes to being a worrywart, baby”

Yoongi (6 years old)

“Dad?”

A small voice called from the entrance of the living room. You and Yoongi were currently lounging on the couch, watching a show, having put his son to bed just 30 minutes earlier.

Yoongi turned to face Hyun, while you grabbed the remote to pause the show.

“Dad, can i have a gun in my room, I think there’s someone under my bed”

You nearly choked on your spit at his words, feeling Yoongi's arm stiffen around your shoulders. Yoongi knew you hated guns and violence with a passion, hell, he had been frightened you’d leave, when you first found out he was in the mafia. But all you had told him was to never have a gun visible inside your home.

As contradictory as it was, to have a no gun zone inside your home, it had worked…So far. Hyun knew what his dad did for work, not the bloody and violent part, but he knew of the guns.

Clearing your throat you tried to come up with an alternative to the guns, you were not going to hand a gun over to a 6 year old.

“Hyun sweetie, how about i sleep with you tonight, I can scare whatever’s hiding under your bed away”

Hyun frowned before glancing at Yoongi, clearly not too happy with your idea.

“Mom, you’re not strong at all, if I can’t have a gun i want daddy to sleep with me”

Yoongi choked down a laugh, coughing slightly in an attempt to hide it, as you slapped his arm.

Turning to Hyun you pouted playfully at him.

“Awh but Hyun, then mom will be all alone in the big bed”

He almost gaped in shock at your words, realizing you would in fact be alone in the big bed without Yoongi.

“I’ll just sleep with you in the big bed then!”

Turning he ran as fast as he could to grab his pillow from his room.

“Yoongi…Would you have given him a gun if I wasn’t here?”

You questioned quietly, watching his face for any changes that could reveal his thoughts. Sighing, he dragged a hand through his hair, before smiling sadly at you.

“Younger me probably would have”

“MOMMY! Come on!”

Hyun yelled from the bedroom, dragging you from the rather heavy conversation. You got up squeezing Yoongi’s arm, but turned to him just before you left the room.

“You’re NEVER giving my child a gun, even if it’s a life or death situation, do you hear me Yoongi?”

His eyes glided over your face, noting how serious you were, but also how protective and fierce you looked in that moment. Nodding his head he watched you disappear, before he chuckled to himself. He almost couldn’t believe how protective you were of his son.

Namjoon (10 year old)

You had gone to the park that afternoon with Aera, Namjoons daughter, she had been begging you all day

“Please, please, please lets do something” and “It’s so boring inside, mom I’m bored”

So you had relented and gone to the park, unable to withstand her puppy eyes.

You were watching her on the playground, sitting on a bench a few meters away, not wanting to disturb her. However, you got disturbed by a phone call, picking up the device, you saw Namjoons name.

“Joon, what’s wrong?”

Hearing his warm laughter in your ear, you relaxed a bit.

“I’m just calling to hear how it’s going, and to ask what you want for dinner tonight, I’m cooking after all”

You almost grimaced, remembering the last time he made dinner, he had somehow managed to burn scrambled eggs.

“Mommy watch me!”

Aera yelled from the top of the slide, making you smile at her, nodding your head telling her to go down it.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea Joon? I mean last time was-” “Don’t mention last time! I practiced, remember I’ve been getting lessons by Jin-hyung”

You chuckled at Namjoons words, somehow having trouble believing he’d improved just by having Jin teach him.

He continued talking about what kind of food he’d learnt to make from Jin, but you got distracted, noticing the sudden absence of Aera on the playground.

Getting up from your spot, your breathing got faster as you circled the playground looking for her.

“-ing heavy? Y/N! Answer me, what’s happening?”

You heard Namjoons panicking voice in your ear, having completely forgotten the phone call. Not knowing what to say as you were on the border of just sobbing out loud you couldn’t give him any useful information, except a whimper of his name.

“Joon” “Taehyung track her location now! Fuck, baby just stay calm, I’m coming, okay, I’m on my way”

Tears were dripping down your face, listening to how fast he worked on finding you, it almost made you feel useless and weak. But you couldn’t help it, anything could have happened to his daughter, and it would be your fault.

A few minutes later you heard heavy boots pounding on the gravel road and you saw Namjoon followed by several armed men. He quickly ran up to you, grabbing your shoulders and inspecting you for wounds. When he found none he pulled you into a tight hug, making you choke up again.

“Joon, Aera, I-I can’t find her, she was just on the playground and then she wasn’t there, and I can’t find her Joon, what if something’s happened to her, or someone has taken her?”

You sobbed loudly into his chest, guilt eating away at you. Clenching his teeth Namjoon signaled his men to start scouring the entire park. He tugged you tighter into his chest, trying to reassure you that everything would be alright, but both of you knew he couldn’t be sure of that.

“Daddy?!”

You froze at the voice, turning quickly, seeing one of Namjoons men carrying Aera in his arms securely. Gasping you ran towards her, barely waiting for the man to put her down, before you had her in your arms.

“Don’t ever do that to me again Aera! Never leave without telling someone okay baby?”

As he was watching you, Namjoon realized just how deeply rooted your love and worry for his daughter was, making him smile slightly, despite the current situation.

Hoseok (15 year old)

“Mom? Mom wake up!”

Someone was shaking your shoulder making you groan slightly, it was still way too dark outside for it to be morning. Blinking slowly you saw Hwan sitting on the bed next to you. Combing a hand through his hair you sat up slightly, still confused.

“What is it baby? Did you have a nightmare?”

He grimaced at you grumbling out a “I haven’t had nightmares in years mom” before a loud clang was heard from the downstairs area. Getting out of bed you approached the door, ready to go out and find the cause of the noise. Hwan launched after you, grabbing your arm, and shaking his head fervently.

“Mom, someone’s inside, downstairs, with guns, it’s not dads men” “What?”

You gasped at him, suddenly not knowing what to do as your mind blanked. Of course you knew Hoseok was in the mafia, and you knew the dangers that came with it, but you never expected something like this to happen.

Feeling a tugging at your hand you saw Hwan attempting to lead you to the window.

“Mom we have to get out of here and call dad”

Shakily you nodded your head, wondering how he was so composed compared to you, but deciding to brush it off for now. Climbing out the window, you watched Hwan drop down to hang off the edge, before dropping into some bushes below. As you were following him, you heard the door in your bedroom bust open, followed by someone yelling.

“They’re outside!”

The bushes saved your fall, but they scratch up your legs, leaving small trails of blood. Sneaking behind Hwan you were trying to make it to the front of the garden, when someone suddenly grabbed him.

“Hwan! Let my son go!”

You yelled, grabbing a nearby vase and throwing it at the goons face, making him pass out.

Hwan stared at you, shocked at your actions, you were never one to pick violence, and you rarely got angry.

“Baby, sweetie are you alright? Let’s get out of here and wait for Hobi yeah?”

You smiled shakily at him, trying to exude calmness, but failing miserably.

You managed to make it a few blocks down the road, having called Hoseok on the way to come get you. Hwan had been holding your hand the entire way, and you guessed it was for your sake, seeing as you’d been clutching it with a death grip the entire time.

Sitting in an alley, you waited impatiently, until the sound of cars stopping nearby reached your ears.

Feeling paranoid you dragged Hwan behind you, shielding him with your body, preparing yourself for the worst.

“Y/N? Hwan?”

Hearing Hoseok's voice you let out a small gasp, jumping up from your crouched position. Dragging Hwan with you, you engulfed both of them in a hug, savoring the moment.

“Are you okay? Any injuries?”

Hoseok asked, rubbing your back soothingly. Nodding your head, Hwan grumbled a bit.

“Almost wasn’t but mom threw a vase at the guy, knocking him out real good”

You smiled tightly at both of them, still not quite over that shock yet. Hoseok smiled at you admiring the strength you showed to protect not only yourself but his son as well.

[cemetery-baccanal]

The Phantomhive Servants (minus Tanaka)

Finny, the gardener of the Phantomhive estate, is inspired by haflinger horses. He has a short, stocky build that probably won't ever change.

As of right now (there's no set timeline for this au but I was definitely going off of their early designs and personalities for these designs) he is a blank flank! He grew up as a test subject, not an individual, so the circumstances that usually precipitate a cutiemark did not, understandably, have a chance to.

Luckily it is not unheard of for a pony of his age to be without a cutiemark, just uncommon, so any curious glances from those of polite society who bother to look are easily waved away by the head butler without suspicions of his origin.

Baldroy is, obviously, inspired by American Paint Horses. He has curly hair because I said so and also do you know how hard it is to do his straight hair "im growing out my buzzcut" looking haircut on a horse and have it not be ugly. it overcame me. not the other way around.

Anyways! His cutiemark is perfect for a chef, and guests to the Phantomhive manor are always assured by it that their dinner will be one crafted at the hooves of a life dedicated chef. Unfortunately for them (Or not, the head butler would never allow something subpar to grace their lord's table.) His cutiemark appeared when him and his soon to be wife finalized the plans for the house that they would surely spend the rest of their idle, love filled days in.

Mey-rin, the only pegasus among the Phantomhive servants, is a flighty, clumsy creature who is only saved from falling down the stairs by the fact that she can fly. There was no specific breeds used for inspiration on her, but I was thinking heavily of strawberry roans (my beloved) while thinking of her color; just greyed the color out a bit more to fit her og color scheme. She is my favorite design out of all of the staff.

Her cutiemark isn't really one you'd expect to see on a maid from a respectable family who can afford to hire ponies who have dedicated their lives to their work. If seen, it could raise some unwelcome questions from polite society. Thankfully her maid uniform does a good enough job of concealing it that there has yet to be an issue.

I plan to showcase her maid uniform, as well as Baldroy's chef uniform at a later date but I wanted to finalize their base designs first. My current plan with outfits is that they are not REQUIRED to be seen as "decent" (Not naked) But the farther up you get on the social ladder the more common they are. For example, a commoner would wear an outfit on their wedding day, and would probably wear them to other formal occasions if within their budget, but other than that outfits aren’t worn on the daily or with any regularity. An aristocrat, or those directly in front of aristocrats (maids, chefs at a dinner party, etc) are much more likely to be dressed most of / all of the time. Its very much a status symbol to have full wardrobes and all of your servants decked out, especially in this magic starved world where fabric/clothes production is so much more expensive.

[tan1shere]

heyyy i was wanting to request! where reader and ellie has a kid and its christmas night, yall are putting the presents up and yall can hear your kid moving around in their bed and yall run to yalls room to not get caught, just a silly fanfic really! 😊

Christmas Shenanigans

Ellie williams x fem reader!

A/n: yes my anon ! At your service ! I don't particularly like this but I hope you guys do :)

My masterlist!

Warnings: none, just pure fluffyness, maybe some language but not much, just slightly flirtatious Ellie.

The warmth from the fireplace is one of the things keeping you happy and content. You were currently sipping some hot cocoa, sitting on the couch as Ellie approaches you. "She's finally out, we can start whenever." It was currently Christmas eve and Ellie had just put your daughter down for bed. "Little mites incredibly excited." She says with a smile etched onto her face, plopping down on the couch, next to you. You smile also leaning into her touch. "When should we get the presents out here?" You look over at the tree, you guys were waiting for Autumn to fall asleep. "We could do it now, speedily." You nod, going to get up. "What time are we going to see Joel in the morning?" You inquire. She also gets up. "Well we would probably be there at around mid day, he's putting on a lunch for the fam."

She goes to your guys room which was thankfully on the other end of your daughter's bedroom. You follow after her. "Sounds like a plan." You go into the closet getting the already wrapped presents. You grab a few and so does Ellie. Quietly making your way down. "This kid is spoiled." You laugh out. "Dont talk like thatt. Only the best for my little princess." You laugh at her. "What am I then? Chopped liver." She let's out her own laugh. "Dont worry, you'll get the best present later on in the evening." She winks at you, and you just roll your eyes. Always gotta be joking about something.

You had finished not too long ago the room was dark as you were ready to go up, but you suddenly hear the floorboards in your daughters room creak. You and Ellie both look at one another, quietly but at a fast pace, going into your guys shared bedroom. Ellie plops on the bed with you hugging your form and smiling like crazy. "Well Mrs claws I think thats a job well done." Ellie says with a small smirk. "Oh, so you're Santa?" She nods, proudly. "Why ofcourse, and you're my little hoe." That cocky grin on her face says it all. "You're trouble williams." You push her off getting onto your side of the bed. "Uh uh, that's Santa. To you." She smirks going to her side of the bed. "Night you." She smiles. "Night my lil helper."

"Mama, mommy!" You've been awoken. Watching as Ellie fully awakens. "Hey lil munchkin." She helps Autumn up onto the bed. "Its Christmas!" She beams with excitement. "I know! I think someone's paid you a lil visit down stairs. Why don't you go check it out and me and mommy will be down soon yeah?" She nods her lil head, letting Ellie set her down. You then roll over to look at her. "Merry Christmas baby." She leans down to kiss you when you reply. "Merry Christmas Els." You smile at her. "Better get up huh." You say, beginning to sit up. "Yes, or else the little monkey will bother us more." You laugh gently. "But she is very adorable."

Ellie nods heading down there with you. "When are we seeing grandpa, mama?" She looks up at Ellie. "Soon, but first! Let's open some presents." "Yeahhhh." Your daughter jumps with excitement. You go into the kitchen to prepare some hot cocoa for the three of you, bringing it out once you're done. "Thank you mommy." Autumn smiles at you. "That's alright love. Right let's get to opening presents."

You all had a fun filled morning opening presents, spending time with one another. You arrived at Joel's not too long ago. "Grandpa!" Your daughter squeals going to hug him. He picks her up. "Hiya kiddo!" He smiles, hugging back. He smiles at you and Ellie. "She wake ya up early?" You laugh at how he just knew. "Did she what." He looks at her gently setting her down but going to bend down to her level. "I got you a lil somethin princess." He smiles at her gently poking her tummy. She giggles. "Yayyy." You shake your head with a big smile. "Aren't you lucky!" She nods. "Thanks grandpa!" He stands back up going upstairs.

"Good manners." Ellie smiles at the small girl. Joel soon after comes back down with a pretty pink wrapped box. "Here you are." He hands it to her, her face lit up as she opens it. It was a cute little t-shirt saying 'grandad's girl' It was adorable and it was obvious she loved it. "Can I put it on now?" She smiles wide. "Can't say no to that." He then smiles. She goes into the bathroom to do so, coming down. "Tadaaa." She twirls. "That shirt is very true." He winks at her as she giggles. "Actually she's mama's princess." Ellie punches Joel's arm lightly. "I think I've won her heart more." He ruffles Ellies hair, walking away. "I'm her parent!" She huffs, you rub her arm. "You're crazy." She laughs putting her arm around your shoulder. "Yeah but you love me." "That i do."

[suffarustuffaru]

Hello!

A bit of a weird ask, so sorry in advance.

What methods/sites would you recommend using for reading Arcs 5-8 of Re:Zero?

I’ve almost finished season 2 of the anime, and I’m pretty sure this has become one of my new favourite anime/works of media in general. 

And considering I keep spoiling myself anyway when I look at Re: Zero tumblr blogs, I figured I should just find a way to catch up with the rest of the series. 

You seem smart, and have clearly read Arcs 5-8, so I was hoping that you would be able to provide some advice. 

Thanks!

NOTE; this post is now outdated esp when this was written pre-s3!! i may make a new post if people are interested

hi there!! :D no worries for the ask, its cool to have another rezero fan join in the fandom especially on tumblr (which is a very small, curated circle of a bunch of us trading posts around a campfire HAH) and i hope youve really been enjoying the anime and your stay here so far!! :o this is absolutely one of my favorite media as well (if. if you couldnt tell by the blog pfft) and thanks for the compliments haah i am glad to seem smart.

but yes i gotchu on where to read!! ill be giving you a pretty detailed explanation/guide. (this explanation also goes mainly for english speakers / people who wanna experience rezero in english.) (and of course if any other seasoned fans are seeing this feel free to add on if i miss anything or correct me if needed)

Main Route Stuff:

witchculttranslations is where you can find the translations for the entire main route (which is arcs 1-8). this page is where youll find the main table of contents for each arc and you can find arcs 5-8 there!

note that arc 8, at the time of me writing this ask, is still a work-in-progress and the team of translators in this fandom are always hard at work to translate each chapter. also note that arcs 7-8 are "conjoined arcs" - think of it like arc 7 is part 1 and arc 8 is part 2. so if you happen to get caught up to where rezero is currently at, the rezero subreddit regularly updates chat + update threads whenever new rezero novel content comes out in general. youll find updates on translations or summaries for new chapters there.

there's also distinction between web novel and light novel - web novel are the chapters that tappei releases online, light novel are the official finished versions of the chapters that are released for sale. sometimes there's changes between the web novel and the light novel, but for the most part it's either minor changes to improve on the web novel - sometimes it's major, but for arcs 5-8 iirc there isnt any major changes that you need to worry about.

just note that in the wn translations, all/almost all dialogue is written in script-style. let me show a small excerpt from arc 5 chapter 1:

???: “Good job, Subaru, I suppose.” A small silhouette enters Subaru’s view from above. A loveable girl with long, cream hair and an extravagant outfit—Beatrice. Her fluttering dress looks out of place in the meadow as she presents Subaru with a towel. He accepts it and vigorously towels his head dry. Subaru: “Ah, thanks. Was looking to cool down so this’s perfect.”

so yeah the wn will be formatted like this by the way, just in case you didnt know this yet!! i hope thats not much of a turnoff or anything, but dont worry you get used to it - and the story is still pretty great anyway!!

also dont bother with arcs 1-3 wn. its not so important (and you already know all the major info because youve seen the anime) and also arcs 1-3 wn doesnt have the Best writing. tappei himself had to make extremely major changes for the light novel and the light novel (along with the anime and manga) is the finished and polished result.

and of course the light novel comes with illustrations for each arc. the web novel sometimes includes images as well at the beginning of each chapter, but if youd like to see finished and official illustrations for various scenes throughout arc 5-8 its easy to find them if you search them up online!!

the anime also has a few bits of Important cut content from arcs 3-4 - unfortunately i dont have any resources on hand for this ;-;;; but you can look this up on rezero reddit or online in general since a lot of people have made summaries about this. from what i remember in arc 3 (which is the royal selection/white whale/petelgeuse half of season 1!), the main thing is just the reveal that al has some sort of connection to ram (and rem by extension), some sort of connection to satella possibly, and he is ALSO someone that was isekaied into rezero's fantasy world.

as for arc 4 (which is season 2 of course), the anime got down almost all of the general important info you need to know, but there's a lot of important information in the last parts of arc 4 that the anime didnt include. the anime may include this information (and the al stuff from arc 3) later, but you'll need to know it for arcs 5-8. you can find the witchcultranslations guide for arc 4 here - scroll down and youll find the chapter called Appendix: Advent!! you'll need the info in that chapter for later.

if you want, you can also read the chapters after that - theyre sorted under One Day II and are the official arc 4 interludes that take place before arc 5. i do recommend reading through them, but theyre mainly characterization stuff, character dynamics post-arc 4, everyone trying to recover after arc 4, etc etc. the most important info in there is leadup for arc 5 (all the post-arc 4 aftermath stuff) and also some info/introduction on clind and annerose (who are characters that are briefly shown in the anime for like two seconds). these two do play minor roles in arc 4/beginning of 5, but theyre hinted to be important for later. if youre in a hurry to get to arc 5, totally fine to just skim through it, get basic info on clind and annerose then continue into arc 5 or something. or you can look at their wiki pages - totally cool to enjoy rezero however you wish. it's a LOT of reading dont get me wrong HAH.

as for the manga - this is not required reading or anything, the manga has only done arcs 1-4 atm so it's not really super relevant to you since youre almost done with arc 4 already via the anime!! but of course if you havent done so youre welcome to check it out if youd like, the manga artists are pretty great imo. im just gonna show some art from the manga artists here:

isnt it pretty? :O very nice stuff.

anyway thats it for main route content!! now i gotta explain side content.

Side Content:

you can find witchculttranslations' side story table of contents here, which very neatly shows you Every Single Side Story and is updated regularly every time tappei comes out with new side content. and trust me, tappei makes A Lot of side content. i guarantee you a lot of rezero fans havent read every side story (and i still have a lot of side stories to catch up on myself), so theres absolutely no need to read every single side story!! honestly just read the ones you find interesting + the ones that are required reading! im not sure how much of the side content youve heard about, but ill give you a rundown:

this extremely helpful google spreadsheet here (thats also regularly updated) tells you how important each side story is and where you can find it so you dont have to go on a wild goose chase wondering which ones you need to read for the main story. rezero side stories are on a sliding scale of just silly stuff tappei wrote for fun to this is VERY crucial for the main story. that google spreadsheet should help you out with that - both the spreadsheet and witchculttranslations have links to almost every side story available.

(the spreadsheet also tells you important details and who it's centered around + when each side story is safe to read free of spoilers after a certain point - so it's easy to decide when you wanna read the side stories and WHICH side stories you'd like to read!)

also i guarantee you that if you have a favorite character in rezero that character Probably has a ton of side content theyre featured in - so i recommend just hunting down all their side content and devouring it whole because im sure youll have a fun time with that. a lot of side content also fleshes out a ton of side characters as well in general - people who Looked shallow in the anime ARENT shallow at all, i promise. many people have hidden depths, which is one of the fun parts of rezero!

witchculttranslations and the google spreadsheet also tell you what order you might wanna read in terms of when each one takes place. i recommend following that order for the most part if youd like, but if you wanna binge read side content or something later you can also do that after reading arc 6.

that's how i experienced the side stories myself (i started reading them after finishing up with the arcs 5-6 plot) and in a way, i would say that might just be the easiest way to do it given a lot of the side stories take place during arcs 1-6 or before the events of arcs 1-6. itll make you go "ohhh thats what was happening with these background characters during *insert event here that was focused on in the main story*" or "ohhh thats why These Guys are like this" a lot pfft. so its easier to just get out the most important ones / the ones thatre most interesting to you all in a row after finishing up with arc 6 👍

The Ex Novels:

these are THE MOST IMPORTANT side stories. :o theyll be extremely important for arcs 7-8 especially!! also because these are light novels the dialogue is written in normal narrative format so hooray for that!!

anyway theres five ex novels. i recommend reading these after arc 6 so you got them fresh on the brain for arcs 7-8.

however if you happen to be a crusch camp fan, you can read ex novels 1-3 at any time youd like!! these flesh out characters like crusch, felix, wilhelm, and theresia (some of the wilhelm and theresia content was shown a bit in season 1 of the anime!) so youd probably enjoy these even more if youre a fan of any of them. ex novel four also features felix, julius, and reinhard too, if that interests you! (as a knight fan ex novel 4 was my favorite akdndn and i loved ex 1!!). but yeah in general though read the ex novels in order (from 1 to 5 of course) so you dont spoil yourself for other ex novels, but as i said - you can read 1-3 at any time, and in general its best to read the rest of the ex novels after arc 6.

the ex novels in general mainly focus on important historical events in the rezero world and stuff that happens before arc 1. the ex novels are also our first introduction to the nation and empire of vollachia—this is also the country that priscilla is from (and al also came from there)!! you get introduced to vollachia's whole deal in these novels. youll need this info for later!

anyway witchculttranslations and the google sheet dont have links to them because theyre published + officially translated light novels that are easiest to access by buying them, so harder to get a free pdf of them. however i got you (and your wallet) covered because i got pdfs for all of them right here (if these links dont work let me know!):

ex novel 1 - crusch and felix-centric

ex novel 2 - wilhelm and theresia-centric

ex novel 3 - wilhelm and theresia-centric

ex novel 4 - felix, julius, and reinhard-centric

ex novel 5 - priscilla and al-centric

anyway thats the ex novels in a nutshell!! and of course if you want a physical copy of these books (or any of the rezero light novels in general) in english you can buy these online (sites like amazon has them) or at a bookstore. if you live in the US like i do, barnes and noble has them irl as well. or if you happen to live near a kinokuniya store, they also sell rezero irl. kinokuniya is also specifically for japanese media so i highly recommend giving it a try if you happen to be near one (i got a rezero keychain from there also hah, rezero merch is a little hard to get a hold of sometimes).

rezero light novels are also translated in a few other languages (iirc spanish and polish are some of the other languages its translated in) so if youd like that too you can look into it and buy some!!

The If Routes:

if youre not familiar with these by now, theyre basically "what if"/ alternate universe stories where subaru makes a different and Very Major choice at different points of the main route. theyre not necessarily required reading, but some do have some important lore regarding several of the characters and in general most of them are extremely important AUs for rezero that emphasize all the themes of the story. they also show the Insane butterfly effect of subaru’s decisions.

and if youve gotten this far with the anime already im gonna assume you probably like subaru at least a little bit? :o yeah his character gets fleshed out in Very Interesting ways in these routes. other characters also get changed in various ways due to his decisions!

new ifs are also released typically every year on subaru's birthday - april 1. so with every april 1 the entire fandom plays russian roulette because either the if will be a super silly one or a Very Important one LMAO.

also these ifs tend to be mentioned a lot in fandom bc theyre very beloved and interesting side stories, so i highly recommend choosing which ones you find interesting and just have fun reading them!! you can find them on the spreadsheet, if you want to read them in a more chronological order, or you can find them on the main witchculttranslations website as tabs on the side underneath Re:Zero If Stories. (but ill provide the links to each separate one in this post also.)

all current if routes at the moment take place somewhere in the arcs 1-6 range, so you can look at them either after arc 6, like i said, or in order as you read along with the main route. ill give a quick breakdown of each if just in case!!

Pride If - diverges from arc 1; subaru doesnt call for help when fighting the three thugs in the alleyway. slight spoilers for one part of arc 5 in like One Scene of pride if.

Wrath If - diverges from arc 2; subaru accepts beatrice’s offer to help in the loop where rem dies + subaru tries to run away from the mansion. very minor spoilers for ex novels/arc 7-8 (characters who appear in those arcs appear in wrath if).

Sloth If - diverges from arc 3; subaru gives up and runs away with rem instead of dealing with the arc 3 conflict. very minor spoilers (a character who later appears in arc 8 appears here).

Aganau If - diverges from arc 3; in the loop where rem dies in the cave and subaru carries her back to the mansion, he decides to go down another route away from the mansion instead. years later, he’s now older and still alive after almost everyone else has died. this if is one of the routes in the now discontinued lost in memories mobile game (and this is The Most Important route out of the whole bunch anyway). you can find a playthrough + english translation of it here.

Greed If - diverges from arc 4; subaru accepts echidna’s contract. major spoilers for arc 4 of course. minor spoilers for arc 5+ (small plot beats are mentioned iirc). a bit of important lore for characters like echidna and clind. the first edition of it can be found here - make sure to read this first. this is because this if was also given a longer and polished light novel version of it (it was a special that came with some of the season 2 blueray dvd packages?) and you can find an english translation for the extended + final version under the Blueray Novels and Databooks section of witchculttranslations' side content page.

Gluttony If - diverges from arc 6. major spoilers for arcs 5-6.

Mimigau If - this is just a genderbend au that tappei made that starts from arc 1!! almost nothing is changed besides the characters’ genders, biological sex, names, etc. i sadly dont have a link to this one, but iirc this hasnt been fully translated yet? and it's also very much not that important of an if lore-wise so you're not missing out on much. the genderbent character names are really fun though!

Lust If - this is, supposedly, an if that tappei wrote in one sitting and then decided to delete off of the official rezero wn site. this if is just an april fools joke where subaru gets a harem of various rezero girls. and imo its not Particularly Good, but it was meant to be a joke and tappei just wrote it for no reason so ig the quality makes sense haah. and also sadly that harem includes petra iirc which. yeah. not what id call great.

Vainglory If / School If - basically a canon high school au for all of rezero! not a necessary read at all but it's super silly and fun. and if you like anastasia and/or priscilla they have a lot of Fun Interactions in this one. im not sure if all of this if is english translated yet, but you can find chapter one here.

Other Various Ifs from Lost In Memories - i dont have the links to all of these, but lost in memories has a lot of other more minor aus as well, aganau if is just the most important + the darkest one. the other ifs are more lighthearted and just extra stuff for funsies. other big examples include a julius if (subaru calls for help in arc 1 and julius is the one who comes to help), a reinhard if of sorts (takes place around arcs 1-2, it's a sillier story where reinhard just keeps appearing out of nowhere to help subaru every time he needs help), and also an otto if (arc 1 divergence; subaru gets involved with otto and the two of them decide to start a mayonnaise business).

A Side Note About Rezero Video Games:

ok i know your ask is mainly about how to READ rezero but i figured i might as well explain this really quick just in case!!

there are a bunch of rezero video games and none of them are really Necessary, so dont worry about it. theyre either like - silly alternate universe stuff or theyre a bit more of the serious au variety (like aganau if, as mentioned earlier. i dont know every single rezero video game out there (and i think theres still new ones in the works at the time of me writing this??) and also almost none of them are english translated so its hard to experience them if you dont understand japanese.

the two most important ones (aka the ones with more story in them) are gonna be prophecy of the throne and lost in memories (which i mentioned earlier!). and again, these games are not necessary content - theyre mostly just side content that you can look at/watch/play through for fun and if you just wanna see more of your faves. you can check them out at any time since they dont have any major arc 5-8 spoilers.

Prophecy of the Throne - this is visual novel + a divergence of arc 3 where a new and sixth royal candidate emerges and it looks like emilia is the fake royal candidate here.... so yeah the plot is just. it's like a game of among us. but it's a fun story with a lot of different character interactions (so if you really like the entire cast of rezero youre in luck!!) and features a tiny bit of lore about some powerful groups in the fantasy world. a few of subarus failed loops in this one are also Particularly Brutal. you can watch gameplay of it on youtube or play through it yourself (i know that the game IS on steam too) since it's fully english translated (and all the jp vas and english vas reprised their roles as well).

Lost In Memories - as mentioned earlier, this is a now discontinued mobile game. iirc it was a gacha game? a sort of fighting game? and also it's narrative driven with a bunch of different routes. you can find the wiki for it here - it summarizes a lot of the main story beats. theres no official english translations for this game, but theres a lot of fan translations that you can find on stuff like youtube if youre ever interested in any part of the game. also it has a really fun opening song and animated sequence. nonoc's rezero music is great <3

A Side Note About Rezero Youtube:

theres a lot of summary videos for both main content chapters and side stories on youtube. im not sure how accurate these videos are, but i know that at the very least they can give you a brief rundown on the main points for certain chapters/side stories if thats something youd like to have!

theres also an entire team of people making a fan-run audiobook for arc 5. ive given some of their episodes a listen, and i can confirm that theyre absolutely great. you can find their readings of chapter 1-47 on spotify, and on their youtube channel theyre up to chapter 62. i think theyve also expressed their interest in branching out into other rezero content as well? :o so if thats also something youre interested in you can check them out there!

In Conclusion

anyway, that should be all you need to know - thats a summary of basically all important rezero content from here on out!! i know this is like. Super detailed. so i hope that this was helpful and didnt scare you away or anything hah. and i hope you have fun reading through rezero :o !! you got a lot of content to choose from thats for sure!!

but yeah ty for the ask, i hope i explained everything clearly enough :o !! and if you need any clarification feel free to ask!!

[sometipsygnostalgic]

Video game console and case design

Today's hyperfixation is on the PLAYSTATION 5. Because I want one, but I really shouldn't buy one, so I am just looking up everything to do with games consoles and burning my brain out.

I used to be a proper xbox player, until I got my PC, then I never really touched by xbox again. I got a PS4 to play Persona 5 and since then it's been a blu ray player for my Adventure Time boxset, not much else. But the current gen - PS5, Series X - is arguably more powerful than my gaming PC, and I still have a lot of friends stuck on PS5, so I am considering investing in a unit.

Anyway is it me or did they really shit the bed with design in this generation?

Look at these chunky fuckers! They do not fit smoothly under your television at all. There is no detail or decoration breaking up their unnecessarily large faces, which makes them look bland and ugly. They look like they're made of cheap plastic, with the two controllers being the highest quality thing about them. I can attest the xbox controller is unbeatable, but playstation really made their shot this generation. A shame I can never get used to the dualshock joystick positioning.

The Series S and the PS5 Slim are almost NO improvement on the base designs.

For some reason they made the Series S look like a speaker???

The new PS5 slim FINALLY has a line across that massive faceplate, but the half matte half glossed finish is not doing it any favours. I think it would've looked much better if, for example, the matte and gloss plates were different colours. Like black and white! It also has an even MORE out of place disc drive, which I think is part of Sony's agenda to go digital only, and the two tiny "feet" for its horizontal positioning are pathetic! Personally I like this more than the original but not significantly, disappointing since I was really looking forward to it.

I want you to compare these nasties to the previous generation - the PS4 and the XBOX One.

....Now, what's hilarious about this image is the consoles look ALMOST IDENTICAL from this angle. And, I guess, that would be why Sony and Microsoft decided to make such a departure with the space heater PS5 and the fridge Series X.

But they both look very premium and advanced, and they fit very nicely in your living room.

The companies tried to look a bit more distinguished in their followup versions in the previous gen too. The white PS4 Pro looks a lot closer to PS5 with its quirkiness, but without the atrocious shiny plastic. Sony tended to add or remove a layer whenever they altered the PS4, I wonder what they would look like all stacked on top of each other.

It's not just the games console designs that suffer - Look at the game cases! I know that the companies want to incentivise you to go digital, but Xbox Series X cases are just awful.

So if you're confused - You should be!!! Microsoft have two kinds of case for the Series X. One of them is the EXACT SAME CASE as Xbox One, but with Series X printed on the front. The second newer version foregoes the sexy Xbox logo entirely and just has Xbox Series X printed in some default font. Awful awful awful.

Playstation is doing better, but barely.

They are reusing PS4 cases with a different print on them. It doesn't look as horrible as Xbox's, and it at least has a different colour on the logo, but damn, the jump between PS3/360 and PS4/One was really impressive, and now they've stopped bothering because they want everyone to go digital. If your game cases look like shit, why bother with physical?

I want to contrast with physical media kings Nintendo, who did an outstanding job in 2017 with designing the case for the Nintendo Switch.

These bad boys are mine. They're super thin, easy to stack, decent quality, and F U N. The red colour pallette makes them pop out. You can see one from across the store and go, "damn, that's a Nintendo Switch game".

I just want a thousand of them.

I would say a disadvantage, especially compared to the Gamecube games next to them, and even compared to 3ds, is that you can't tell what game you're looking at without going right up to them. These cases are TOO uniform, and really tiny, so i have to triple check I am picking up Xenoblade Chronicles 3 and not Tony Hawk Pro Skater. Meanwhile you can tell exactly what Gamecube games I have by colour pallette alone. Like, you can instantly tell that's Windwaker.

The switch in general is a very fun looking games console, much nicer looking than its predecessor the Wii U, though I'm not sure how I feel about the white of the OLED. But every time I see a Switch Lite in stores, even though I know it's worse than my Switch, I want to buy one. It just looks so FUUUUUN.

And finally a special mention to the 3DS and its games case. The console itself was pretty stylish, if... rudimentary for its release period, but the games cases are high quality and almost make me want to have 3ds games just so I can have the cases.