#like… I tried to not stress so much about.. making a polished end product.. and to instead just. draw… in a way I thought would be fun

[pepperpixel]

WHERES UR HEAD AT- AT- AT- AT?

WHERES UR HEAD AT?

WHERES UR HEAD AT?

FiNALLY MORE ART… Srry I’ve been gone for a while!!!!!! I… have just.. been super busy. And I’m still busy lol. I got a lot goin on!!!! But… But…!!! I managed to finish some art today!!! Thank god lol- so yeah! Behold this funky nurse creature..! she will be committing medical malpractice on u..!!! And that is a promise!! Or ur money back guaranteed!

[chimimon]

Keeping Record

Medical AU - Higuruma x f!Reader

Disclaimer! What you are about to read contains the following: suggestive material! I genuinely cannot think of another tag so I apologize if my air headed-ness missed something major… (-｡-;

& what I have to say is… “Are you writing a fic about that man with that whole beak-” YEAH AND? THAT BEAK PRETTY! If he’s a bird, I’m a bird!? RAH-AH RAH-AH

You have reached the voicemail box of Hiromi Higuruma. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now but please leave a name and number and I will get back to you as soon as I can.

Beep

You hung up the call and stared at your screen. Legal firms of any kind were a pain to deal with, but this one was pushing all the right buttons.

You have reached-

“Okay...” Disappointed? Sure, you were. But never surprised. “No this is great, I’m sure they don’t even want these records.”

A medical assistant slid behind, looking at the medical record request alongside you, scanning it for a date of birth and the dates of service.

“I’m not blind, am I?” The copies were at your nose. Then you examined them at your keyboard, holding it as far down as you could to get another look.

“Hmm. Are they asking if they can release their records to us…?”

“Right?”

They laughed on the way out of your office, visiting your printer to make a colored copy of something. It was small and dim, but you liked to think of it as cozy. Some days it felt more like a closet and even more so now that one of two flat panel light fixtures began to flicker. At this point you were waiting for it to die before asking to have it replaced, because that was the only way they would replace it.

The medical world was fun... sometimes. The workday for medical assistants and nurses heavily depended on the doctors’ attitude, followed by the patient's attitude. But being on the back end of things made it so more people could make or break your shift. Seniority and an excellent work reputation meant you got to train new hires if their leads weren’t in, double check most of the outgoing paperwork, and do all the “fun” insurance things. With that, it wasn’t long before one of the receptionists walked back to grab you.

“Sorry,” they knocked on your open door. “I have someone here asking to speak with medical records?” They were new, and visibly stressed.

“Hey,” you cordially smiled. “You’re good, did they give you a name?”

They made a face and shook their head, “I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask.”

“No, no you’re good.” You reassured them.

When training or speaking to new hires, you did so with empathy. Going to school only meant so much, nothing really prepared you for how differently each clinic ran. You tried so hard to give them the patience and understanding that you never got.

“Just let him know I’ll call them back in second and get their name before you have him sit down.”

They looked relieved with your laxed attitude before running back to the front. After a few minutes you joined them again and were handed a sticky note with a name.

“Higuruma?” You called out to the waiting room.

A dark-haired man, with a slight tan and a brief case stood up. He nodded on his way over. You introduced yourself before leading him back to your office. As you walked pass the nurses station, you nodded, and watched their eyes dart to the man following behind you. It wasn’t often that anyone followed you back anywhere. If it wasn’t a nurse or doctor at your door, it was a patient accompanied by a nurse.

The legal request for records was neatly placed beside your keyboard. You pulled up a chair beside yours, and motioned him to sit.

Higuruma looked as serious as you pictured most lawyers did. It was like playing bingo when you looked at him. Black suit and tie? Check. Briefcase? Check. Polished and shiny dress shoes? Check. The tired look in his eyes and slick back hairdo, which was escaping whatever gel product he used, was like the free space in the middle of the card.

“How can I help you today, Mr. Higuruma?”

“I was asked to visit your clinic to inquire about the subpoena.” Polite and straight to the point, you thought.

“Yes, I apologize in advance, but I have been trying to get ahold of your firm. Can I confirm some contact information with you?”

With the call history on your computer, and the request beside it, Higuruma could immediately see why you were trying to contact them, and just how often you tried to. He apologized for the discrepancy and asked if there was anything else you needed.

“Ah, yeah. So, the doctor your client saw, they’re not comfortable signing anything unless they can speak with someone.”

Higuruma smiled with his brows raised. “I can speak with the doctor today if they have the time.”

You made a face that let him know they weren’t in clinic. “Can we schedule a time they can call? Well, actually it might be best if you come back.”

When it came to legal things or insurances, you mentally prepared for attitude when you couldn’t immediately give the representative what they wanted.

“That’s fine. When will they back in?”

What a relief.

Higuruma offered to provide lunch and set the date for that following Thursday an hour before noon.

“Oh, and before I go,” He paused to unlock his phone “I’m going to give you my personal number. I don’t want to ignorantly disregard your clinic’s needs. But I’m going to ask that my number does not go to anyone else, and that it only stays with you.”

With a nod, you exchanged phones and contact information.

“Hiromi Higuruma,” you read aloud to yourself upon the trade back.

He smiled again as you looked up.

“Oh, sorry.” You cut out his first name on his contact, reading aloud “Mr. Higu-ru-ma…” in a softer voice.

“Hiromi is fine,” the lawyer tone dropped. “The whole ‘Mister’ thing makes me feel old.” He chuckled.

“Oh- okay, Hiromi.” You smiled, scanning him again before offering to guide him out.

With the door leading to the waiting room propped open, he promised to speak with whoever faxed the original form and to bring a new, corrected one on Thursday. When the automatic sliding entry doors closed, the second desk girl looked to you before giggling.

“What?”

“Do you think he’s cute?”

You looked up thoughtfully and then shrugged.

“He looked a lot happier then when he came in.” she sang sweetly.

The newbie that originally grabbed you spoke up. “Yeah. He was smiling just now, and I was kinda worried about how he was gonna treat you back there.”

“And you gave me no warning?” You teased.

The two sheepishly smiled before someone approached their desk. You took it as your sign to leave and return to your desk.

—

The morning before the meeting, Higurumi texted asking what he’ll be picking up for lunch.

You – “Sandwiches are safe.”

Himori – “Allergies?”

You – “Peanuts for the doctor in question.”

Hiromi – “Noted. Anything they or you prefer?”

You really thought about the doctor, and then your manager who would be present, and shook your head.

You – “I’m not even going to guess. I’ll send you their orders in a second.”

Twenty minutes later he received their orders and reconfirmed the dates. You wondered if he was wearing the same black suit, or if his hair was getting loose again.

—

The lunch was embarrassing. Higuruma kept having to repeat himself to the doctor, who in turn kept interrupting him before he could finish saying anything, and your manager didn’t do anything to help. They were just blankly staring and smiling, alternating the combo between the doctor, the lawyer, and yourself. Right before you could thank Higuruma on behalf of the small four-person luncheon, both your team mates had something to say.

“You know as much as I appreciate Mr. Higuruma being here today, I just have no idea why I’m here. Why you didn’t have Legal come in?” Your manager stared at you, and then at Higuruma. “And the request is a few weeks old, which I apologize for, but I mean what have you been doing back there?”

You froze without any idea why this couldn’t wait until the lawyer left. “Well, when I asked Legal, they said this was something you could look over and-”

“When?”

You blinked slowly. “When I set the date with Mr. Higuruma.”

“I mean it’s a silly record request.” The doctor chimed in. “It seems to me if you just read the forms, and worded things better, maybe I would’ve understood and been more than happy to sign sooner.”

All you could do was stare, as they blamed their stupidity on you.

Higuruma seemed taken aback and annoyed. What was worse was you couldn’t tell if it was directed at you or them. But the ordeal wouldn’t end if you tried to fight them on this, so you surrendered like most people do and apologized to the room. “I don’t mean to waste yours, or my own teams time.” You bowed to Higuruma from across the table, ignoring the theatrically loud sigh that just left your manager.

When you looked up, Higuruma seemed confused as he bowed back. “No, the mistake started on my end. Really this whole ordeal is on my firm.” He stood up now to shake your manager’s and doctor's hand. “I apologize for inadvertently dragging this simple request out for your clinic, staff and my own client.” He bowed again.

“This isn’t on you pal,” the doctor patted his shoulder as he left the break room.

You felt too sick to finish your food and got up to put whatever you couldn’t stomach in the fridge. “Oh, and uh,” your manager peeped their head back into the breakroom. “Make sure the man gets his records before he leaves, m’kay?” You nodded with the most professionally pissed off smile before grabbing a water bottle and leading Higuruma back to your office.

The clacking of keys seemed louder than normal, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything until you hit print. “There are quite a few pages, so it might be a while. I can bring it to your office since your firm is fairly close.”

“Today?”

“Yes...”

“On your own? Are they going to make you drive yourself?”

“Yeah?” You didn’t know where he was going with this.

“They reimburse for gas, right?”

You looked at the clock, it was 12:30, but you knew your manager was going to find a way to make sure you don’t get paid for what they believe is your screw up. They might even try to say you got a long lunch so it was only fair.

“They should.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

Higuruma thought about it, then got comfortable beside you with his briefcase on the table and his legs widely crossed. “I’m okay to wait.” He pulled out a laptop. “If that’s okay with you.”

You nodded before going back to your computer.

Page 045/462 is printing…

Higuruma kept his distance but you could see his forearms from the corner of your eye.

When did he take off his suit jacket?

Then your gaze fell to his lap, another pair of black suit pants, but you could see the feint lines that made them corduroy.

“You’re only ten minutes from our clinic. Are you sure?”

Higuruma nodded with his chin on his fist. He hadn’t looked at you but you were now tracing his profile with your gaze. He still looked tired and laxed. Something about his demeanor and suit was doing messing to your line of thought. You tilted your head and thought to make small talk while you had him. Then you stopped after remembering he looked tired, and might only want to respond to yes or no questions.

Page 176/462 is printing…

The printer was warming the cramped space and your cardigan had to come off. After placing it on your chair you made it to the window. “May I?” You looked over your shoulder. He nodded again but did not turn away when you had to open the window. The way you stood on your tippy toes, without the cardigan, made it so your scrub top hugged your waist with a little drama. He consciously turned away before you caught him.

Page 176/462 is printing…

At your desk, you recalled that he hadn’t ate while you four talked, so you opened a drawer and grabbed out one of those too-sweet-to-be-healthy granola bars. “Sorry, this is all I got.”

The bar slid over to him and Higuruma thanked you before immediately tearing into it. His apparent hunger made you feel guilty for not trying to harder convince him to leave. “I can grab you some lunch, you know, for keeping you here.”

He laughed before turning to face you. “Everything was on me, so don’t worry about it. Besides, I think there are a couple more things I can apologize for. You know, after that.”

“Pardon?”

“Doctors and higher ups in medical can get a little jaded, so I’ve noticed.” He folded his arms and you were immediately staring at them.

“They mean well.” It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself of it.

“Oh, I’m sure they do.” He shook his head. “I’m sure that’s why I have to defend them most the time.”

You smiled at his understanding. You felt less embarrassed about luncheon and lifted your brows. “My offer on lunch still stands.”

He looked up at the ceiling and noticed the flickering light. “That’s nice, but all I’d want from you is to join me. I’d like to pay.” He grinned.

“Can you just do that?” You thought he meant with a company card.

“With my card and on my lunch, yeah I can.”

“Oh, you don’t have to make time in between work for me.”

“Well…” he uncrossed his legs and leaned in. “I guess lunch can be kinda hard for me, so how about we do dinner instead?” It wasn’t clear when he started flirting but that made your stomach drop.

Page 387/462 is printing…

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Not while I’m on business. But can I properly ask when I’m off the clock.” He cheekily smiled.

Your print job is completed

You handed Higuruma a fresh stack of warm paper, and again walked him out. “I’ll message you around 6,” he said too close to front desk.

You didn’t notice those two were grinning past your own anxious excitement.

—

The following Thursday rolled around, and just as you were headed to the bathroom to get changed, a doctor dropped a stack of papers on your desk.

“What’s this?”

“Prior authorizations. I need these done before Friday morning.”

“This Friday or next?”

“This Friday. Please.”

“Where did your assistant go?” You leaned back looking past the doctor and out your door. No one at the nurse's station.

“It’s just you, but even then, he’s been looking forward to some date he’s got tonight, so...”

Nice. Super nice.

“Got it.” You said flatly, unwilling to hide the tinge of annoyance in your tone.

You called Higuruma to cancel. He insisted on bringing something over and lied about making a big reservation after you offered to cover any fees for it.

“Just name your favorite spot, or better yet I can wait for you to finish.”

“Higuruma this is going to take a second, you don’t have to do that.” The stack of papers looked daunting, but after flipping through it was just three procedures with a lot of notes to fax.

“I want to.” He hummed

“Well, I can open the door for you if you come through the back.”

“Can you do that for me?”

“Strangely enough, yes I can.”

“Okay,” He sighed with relief. “I’ll see you in 20.”

As soon as he hung up you locked your office door to get changed. It felt a little silly but if you were going to have a date in your office, you were going to be dressed up for it.

Five minutes passed and it felt like an hour. The hold music was nothing short of goofy, and you were looking forward to seeing him. You wondered what he was wearing, if he was going to be in a suit or if suits felt like a work uniform to him and would dress down when getting dressed up. Then you wondered what dressing down meant, if it was another button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, grey slacks or if he would wear a more relaxed pleated pair of pants. What kind of belt would he wear? Would his shirt button be undone? If so, how many?

An insurance agent cut through your train of thought, and the first prior auth was complete. You checked your phone and saw that Higuruma was on his way but that text was sent twenty minutes ago and now you were feeling nervous. In the middle of being on hold for the second company, Higuruma called saying that he was there.

You ran back, opened the door, walked him back, and forgot the hold music was on speaker.

“Interesting song choice.” He teased.

“I- no wait.” You took the phone off speaker and nervously chuckled before the second agent answered. With one more left you dialed the last insurance line and began to press all the options. While on hold you pushed out your hand with a pinky extended. “You’ve gotta promise me something.” You felt self-conscious of the blatant disregard to health privacy laws switch your date in the room.

“Pinky promises?” He raised a brow.

“You have to promise to pretend this is work related if anyone from the clinic calls to ask why you were here, and that you don’t repeat anything I say to the agent.”

Higuruma snorted and nodded. He kissed his thumb, extended his pinky, and locked it with yours. “Seal it with a kiss.” he toyed. Although it felt silly, you did as he said and it filled your stomach with butterflies.

This last Insurance company was taking their sweet time answering. You put the hold music back on speaker and reached out for your plate of food. You slid closer to him, thanking him for dinner before the first bite.

“So,” You immediately caught his attention. “Is our pinky promise legally binding then?”

“Well, it’s technically me giving you my word, so yes.” Smiling at his fork he said “It is for me.”

His sleeves were rolled up again, but he was wearing a form fitted black mock neck, with a pair of olive-green pleated pants. As he ate, you eyed his wrist watch, and thought it had to be white gold. But even more eye catching than his watch were subtle but protruding veins that lined from his wrist to his pushed sleeve. Higuruma noticed your gaze.

“You like what you see?” He murmured.

“Do I like what-? Oh!” The music stopped and you quickly grabbed the phone to finish the last prior auth.

Higuruma took this opportunity to get an eyeful of his date. You were wearing a black satin dress that had been showing off your legs since you sat down. Before you took the call, when you had faced each other, Higuruma’s attention had been caught by the cowl neck of the dress but he only allowed himself to look for a second. You just looked too tempting to just be taking a call. To be in an office alone with him. As you were finishing up, Higuruma snuck up behind you, with his hand landed on yours as your cursor hovering over the end call button.

“No that’s all. You too. No, no thank you.” Before the agent could wish you a good night, Higuruma hung up the call. You turned around in your chair stunned that he was also towered over you. “What if I wasn’t finished?”

“Were you not?”

“Mr. Higuruma, are all lawyers as cocky as you are? Or as flirty?” If you could call what you were feeling butterflies, there were a roost and they were moving up your chest. Your eyes moved from his down to the arms that trapped you in. As you stood up, he moved back. “Hiromi?”

He folded his arms again and leaned against a shelf behind him. “Not that I know of.” Higuruma hid his mouth behind his palm, closed his eyes and sighed. “I apologize, but-” A dress shouldn’t be able to do that much, he thought. No, it was a scrub top, or maybe it was just you? “I promise I’m usually more composed.”

If it wasn’t for you playing with the slit on the thigh of your dress, he would’ve never noticed that little detail. “You are?”

Higuruma dropped his arms and approached you. “May I?”

You nodded.

As he began to slowly and softly entangled you in a kiss you kept pulling back, forcing him to follow you against the edge of your desk. You kept leaning back, sensing him trapping you between his arms as he leaned on the table.

“Sweetheart,” hot breath tickled your lower lip. “Let me close, please?” His dilated eyes pleaded alongside his voice. But his hands seemed to be a little less polite as they grabbed you by your hips, lifting you onto your desk while holding you still. When he felt like you were trying to move back again his hand quickly switched positions.

Composed was a funny thing to be with one hand on your bare thigh, the other keeping you still while he licked your bottom lip.

Higuruma’a neck guided every kiss and if his hair had been intact when he came in, it for certain was not now. The smooth pomade coated your fingers as you combed through. Occasionally you would tug forward, pushing him back in an attempt to catch your breath. The lack of air in his all-consuming kiss made you dizzy, and overly aware of your heart racing, pounding in your head as his tongue tasted yours.

The crease in between your thigh and hip felt the dull office air as Higuruma’s hand ran further up completely exposing your leg. That same hand trailed down your thigh to push you open at the knee, while his other hand snaked around your waist to pull you flush against him. After you wrapped your legs around his waist, you finally pulled away from his kiss to dive into his neck. You kissed up to his cheek, quickly pecked him, and then dipped back down to suck the skin near his collar bone. The pressure made him groan.

“Hiromi,” you sang against his neck.

Higuruma looked too dazed to realize he had lifted you off the table in the heat of the moment and was holding you in his arms. “Where’s your composure Hiromi?”

Visible warmth spread across his face as he came back from reality. Higuruma let you down. But he let his hand slide up your side and back down your arm to hold your hand. He kissed your knuckle and laughed. “And yours?”

At some point one of the panel lights went out within his indulgence, and you had not clocked out, so you quickly clicked around, logged out, and grabbed your bag.

“Let me take you home.” Higurumi was fixing his hair and lifting his collar. He also shamelessly watched as you fixed your dress, grinning.

© 2024 chimimon

[atrial-ofhorror-if]

Hey y'all! Long time no see!

This was supposed to come out in May, but I was lazy and just looked at the post for a while before deciding to write anything. I don't know what it is about 2023, but BAYYBE, it feels like it's on Speed or something. We are already halfway through the year, and it feels like it just happened in a blink of an eye! Kinda spooky, no? I'm planning on taking a break this month for June, partially because I'm tired and overwhelmed. It feels like there's always something going on in my personal life that puts me back. So, while I'm handling that and trying to disassociate as much as possible, I'm gonna be MIA. I'll still be around, just not as vocal. Am I really that vocal though? Nah.

This will also translate over into Maboroshi as well, even though I have a shit ton of unanswered asks I have to get to in there too

I'm hoping that I'll be rejuvenated and feeling better so I can hit the ground running for July.

Clerical Update

May has been the month of creativity and having a fire underneath your ass, because I've been completing and starting some things I didn't expect, I would do!

I've reached out, or tried to reach out to everyone who filled out the beta testing form! I'm planning on sending them the game in mid to early July.

I removed the demo of ATOH from Itchi.io. I know, weird right? But I'm just re-reading it and trying to edit it a bit before I re-post it back on the page! I wasn't satisfied with how it looked and realized that there was still a shit ton of errors, coding and otherwise within some of the passages so I wanna try and do a deep dive on my downtime of writing and patch some of that up. Am I gonna be completely successful? 🤷🏿���♀️🤷🏿‍♀️🤷🏿‍♀️ dunno, but I won't stress myself out about it.

I've FINALLY got an idea for a cover page for ATOH. Wild how I've sat with this game for almost an entire year and I've never once had a cover page idea that I liked. I messed around in CANVA to try and replicate the idea I had in my head and am gonna mess around with the code to try and get it into the current demo.

Something secret, something mysterious 👁👁 something sinful. If my money is right at the end of July, and the product turns out like I want it to. I'll be posting a lil something. Won't tell yall what tho 👁

Writing Update

I ended up getting to 100k...

Yeah, I don't know how that happened either 🥴🥴

I had actually ended up getting rid of almost 10k+ worth of content because I felt that it wouldn't fit with this update, and somehow, some way, I ended up adding 30k+ more to make up for it. Of course, I believe that the majority of that word count is variation of choices, but it's still a bit shocking for me, ya know? 🥴🥴🥴

I'm gonna go through those new paragraphs and try to find any find any issues but hopefully I won't find anything too crazy.

I'm planning on sending beta testers the game in Mid or Early July. And then polishing up whatever I have left.

Think that's it? If you guys have any questions, please let me know! My DMs or ask are always open 🤎

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

okay so Im going insane over the concept of the bps having a silly little spa day and I care them so much so sorry if this gets long

"SO, me and Sarah were thinking about something"

Seth looks up from his woodworking, casting a suspicious look between them. Sarah and Ces exchange glances, trying to suppress their giggles

"I know this look, you two are definitely up to good", he says

"Well,see here-" Ces starts, before being interrupted by Sarah.

"If ur idea of no good is us making you have a self care day with us, then yeah, we are up to no good", she declares, looking at him, challenging him to object. He looks at her in disbelief.

"A self care day? Sarah, I'm 35, and besides I'm perfectly fi-"

"Literally no one's buying that dad, we've all seen how stresses you are lately, and besides, how bad can it be? Don't you wanna spend time with us?", Cesar says, looking at him imploringly.

"Pleaseeeeeee, cmon, its just washing your hair, trying new hairstyles, it's not gonna kill you", Sarah says

Seth sighs in defeat.

"How long have you two been planning this?", he asks, a small smile beginning to form on his face

Sarah hooks one arm though hers, and Ces takes the other side, essentially frog marching him to the living room.

She shrugs, "A month maybe, now let the self care day start!"

They make Seth lie down on the couch and untie his hair, Ces washing it in a basin of warm soapy water while Sarah lectured him about how to take proper care of his hair. While Seth is distracted, Ces starts to subtly tie Seths hair into pigtails, fighting for his life. Sarah fails at hiding her smile, and Seth catches on, jolting upright.

"Cesar Torres. What are you doing with my hair.", he says, turning to face him slowly. Cesar bursts out laughing, tears in his eyes. Seth pats his head, detecting the pigtails.

"PIGTAILS??, really Ces?", he tries to untie them, but Sarah swats his hand.

"Noooo! They're so cute!", she picks up a mirror and shows it to Seth, whose horrified face is now staring back at him with the pigtails in glittery pink scrunchies. Seth buries his head in his hand, before getting an idea.

"Well, if you two can mess with my hair, then I guess it's only fair I do so too right?", Seth picks up one of Sarah's hairstyles catalogues, thumbing it's pages, before grinning evilly, and revealing tye most atrocious hairstyle known to man.

"You first Ces",

They spend the day trying out different hairstyles, to Ces and Sarah amusement and Seths continous shock( "People actaully do these??") and at some point, Sarah even brings her skin care routine, arms full if variously coloured gels and masks( Ces whistles, impressed, "You know she serious when she pulls out the papaya exfoliating mask". "The WHAT??" . "dw about it")

At the end of the day, Sarah brings her nail polish collection, choosing red for herself, black for Ces, and hot pink for Seth. He holds the tiny bottle, looking at her witha mixture of fondness and tiredness.

"Is the hot pink really necessary, I mean, you've already used like 30 different products on me today", he says

Sarah and Ces nod emphatically.

"No self care is complete without nail polish! And I even made Ces learn nail art to make sure it looks good as possible! Cmon, this one last thing okay? I promise", Sarah says, and Seth grumbles but holds out his hands. They cheer and get to work, Sarah with unwavering laser focus, and Ces with the tip of his tongue poking out, attempting to copy Sarah. He looks at them lovingly. These silly children and their care of him. His silly children that he was ready to burn the world down for, if it meant seeing them happy forever as they were now.

"I might have agreed to hot pink Sarah, but I definitely did not agree to the glitter"

"Aw, man"

AWWWWW /pos

They’re a FAMILY your honor

[hotwings0203]

An Ode to the Unseen

Thinkin about readers who feel self conscious, readers who feel like they’re not happy with their weight, readers who don’t feel girly enough or feel too vulnerable because of whatever height they’re at. I’m thinkin about readers who suffer from body dysmorphia, who shy away from looking at themselves in the mirror to avoid seeing their scars, body hair or acne. This is for the readers who feel too submissive and feel like a pushover in their lives, and this is for the readers who feel like they’re too fiesty and not soft enough. It doesn’t matter if you feel like you can’t relate to the stereotypical tropes in writing, or if you feel like you can’t act like a perfectly constructed Y/N in real life, this ones for you💖

A/N: Hello to all reading! I made this on a whim just to tackle some of the insecurities lesser described characters in stories might feel, but this is in no way meant to exclude anyone at all! We all have beautiful bodies, and should own up to it even if we don’t always see the problems we face in writing. Some of these topics might be sensitive to readers or trigger memories that might be disturbing to others, so please heed the warnings! Also the Hawks prompt at the end gets pretty nsfw, so heads up for that hehe

CW: dubcon, manipulating, fluff, slight angst, EDs, body dysmorphia, kidnapping, abuse, degradation, some nsfw, yandere, language, insecurity

You’re ever feeling not particularly happy with your face or body because of an acne breakout, or a rash that won’t go away? Maybe a birthmark that you try to cover up with makeup? Even stretch marks or scars from surgery?

You can bet your ass shigaraki will notice the way you can barely glance at the mirror some days just so you don’t have to see your own reflection when it’s time to go to bed with him.

His obvious and intense stare makes you fidget and gets your skin crawling, but he says nothing that night when he holds you a little too tightly-tighter than most nights he’s with you. The sound of his raspy breaths lulls you to sleep, but when you wake up he’s already gone, out on another mission or at a meeting with the Yakuza.

You feel groggy and gross, and going to the bathroom just to look in the mirror again to see whatever ails your body and/or face does nothing to stop your groan of misery.

You do your business all while turning away from your reflection, not wanting to see a second more of your discontentment staring right back at you while you wash your face, brush your teeth, and meticulously do your hair.

Finally making your way downstairs to the bar, you sit on one of the barstools and hold your head in your hands, not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze and no doubt seeing their disgust at your ailment.

But you look up when a soft whirring sound and purple-black tendrils of smoke appear before you

“Young master L/N,” Kurogiri says. “Have you been feeling alright? You retired earlier last night and had the most uncomfortable of expressions on your face, I couldn’t help but notice.”

No matter how much you despised or were wary of Tomura, you knew his caretaker, Kurogiri, had your back. He was respectful of your space, and if he knew you weren’t in the mood for talking then he wouldn’t push you

And so you told him your predicament, opening up about your problem spot(s)

“It’s so embarrassing, Kurogiri. I feel gross and I feel like everyone’s looking at me,” you mumble, putting your head down on the cool polished wood countertop.

He’s silent for a moment or two, before the tendrils of his supposed hands warp into a small portals. They appear again immediately, producing a couple of bottles and place them in front of you.

You raise your head slightly at the sound of sloshing liquid and rattling pills as the bottles are lined up before you in an orderly fashion, and you eye them suspiciously.

“What’s this?” You ask, picking up a tube as your curiosity is piqued.

“Young master Tomura Shigaraki had warned me beforehand of your reclusive nature when you ponder on what cannot be controlled, and sent me a list this morning to pick up some medication that might help you, should you need it. He asked me to bring back every item as soon as possible, so you wouldn’t feel the need to procure anything by yourself and strain yourself unnecessarily.”

You scoff, not buying the surprising act of affection. “So, what, he’s just doing this so he doesn’t have to look at my disgusting (body part of choice) anymore? He wants to come back and see some perfectly molded pet to stare at all day?”

Kurogiri shakes his head, however.

“I know how the young master is perceived to many: abrasive, immature, and brash in his thoughts and actions. He has a long way to go in terms of maturing in the way he views things, and unfortunately he was not blessed with…the best of upbringings, so he truly doesn’t know any better, as you already know.”

You wince internally, feeling slightly guilty now.

“But,” he continues slowly, “he was not born with evil in his heart. He’s just bitter with society, and is desperate for others to know his pain and see the world for what it really is towards those who are suffering. That’s why he is so taken with you, young L/N. Before you came here, he observed your mannerisms and was thoroughly attracted to the way you could see through people’s surface level facades. Although your views on the world may differ here and there, he is desperate to show you that he understands your suffering, and that he’s there for you-“

“-yeah, well, he has a funny way of showing it,” you mutter darkly, memories of chains and dark rooms and various marks on your body flashing through your mind. Even if Kurogiri was telling the truth, it would take some time for you to come around and even begin to try to give yourself to Shigaraki. He was just too volatile, too rough and negligent of your wants and needs. He lashed out at everything you did, and made you feel like nothing you ever did was enough to please his shifty nature.

“Yes, I can understand you bitter feelings towards him,” the black and purple mass hummed in thought. “I have tried explaining how a human girl is to be treated, however, and he is slowly trying to learn. I feel as though he may feel embarrassed at times from his lack of knowledge at such simple social norms, and that is another factor of his frequent temper tantrums. He might be the leader of a powerful villain organization, but when he realizes he has no knowledge of making friends or keeping relationships, it’s an embarrassing blow to his ego. Especially with you, he is especially sentimental and touchy regarding topics that pertain to you. He often will sit here in silence after you two have a, uh, little spat, and hesitantly will seek my advice on how to make things up to you. ”

And you realize with a grimace that he’s right-there are days after you both have a big blowout(usually over the most pettiest of things, maybe you turned away from him while sleeping and he took it as a sign of disobedience, or maybe you didn’t greet him when he came back from an especially tiring mission and he used that opportunity to take his pent up stress out on you) that he’ll come back after storming out of the room only to creep back in hours later with various trinkets in his hand.

You’d be alerted of his presence when the pitch black room is blessed with a yellow ray of light from the opening creaky door as he enters, and you will yourself to continue breathing slowly, as if you were still asleep. But he’s so quiet and stealthy as he comes closer to you, it’s hard not to be surprised and flinch or jump when his arm reaches over you just to place one of your favorite snacks on the cracked dresser next to you.

It’s hard to keep your head down on the dusty pillow and keep your curiosity in check when you feel him breathing down your neck as he lays a stuffed animal on the blanket next to you, and you often wonder where he knows to buy such fragile and innocent things.

Your aesthetic that he so closely has memorized from each singular color to the details of your favorite patterns make a stark, disturbing contrast to his greying, deadly aura. It’s almost impressive that he pertains each gift to your taste when he’s feeling especially sorrowful

“But nevertheless, the master has asked me relinquish these to you as soon as you came downstairs. And, just between me and you,” he leans closer and you do too, finding yourself wanting to know this secret side of your captor even further, “he was muttering something as he left, something along the lines of not wanting you to feel like you had to use these products. I think he was trying to say that he never wants you to feel as though you have to make up any part of your body you feel insecure about to him. He wants you to stay the same way you always are, and if you never adjust to your surroundings here, then he at the very least wants you to be comfortable in your own skin, blemishes and all.”

“This may or may not come as a surprise to you, but he himself knows what it’s like to feel insecure about his own skin and body,” and it comes across so ridiculously innocent and striking to you that such a lethal character such as the infamous Shigaraki would have the same problems a normal, functioning member of society would have: skincare and body insecurity. But the lines, scratches, and scars that litter his face can attest to this notion. How often did he himself avoid looking in the mirror for, not wanting to see his translucent skin, the clawmarks that left bright, angry trails up his face and down the sides of his neck, the cracks in and around his lips and eyes? Is that why he left his hair down skit covered his face, and the hand on top covering him whole more often on than not?

And so you finally open the lid to the tube, testing the feel of its contents that promise your mutinous skin some time of relief.

The door suddenly bangs open, and the man of the hour himself slinks in, nails idly scratching the underside of his jaw as he mutters under his breath to himself.

He lifts his head and sees you and kurogiri at the bar, a tube of ointment in your hand , the lid opened in testing as the rest of his presents are in array all around you.

As if you were accepting them.

As if you were accepting him

He feels his face beat up and his deteriorating body starts to prickle and sweat. He merely scratches harder, his mumbling continuing as he slowly makes his way over to you

You watch his little unsure shuffled towards you, and you can’t help it when your heart twinges as you take in his hopeful yet cautious expression, no matter how hard he tries to stifle any vulnerable emotion

So, in a moments decision of truce you quickly lean forward to whisper to Kurogiri one last favor before turning to see a new light of your captor

“Before I go, I need some things from you, please. By tonight, do you think you could pick up some self care things at the corner store for me? I’m talking face masks, lotions, Vaseline, and hair products.”

“I think if I see him accept himself and care for the body he’s in least for one night, I could be happy in my skin, too.”

Feeling conscious about your weight, whether it’s over or under your preferred look? Please, don’t make Kiri laugh at your naivety

You groaned as you stood on the scale, the numbers reading back at you seeming more mocking than simple statistics

You weren’t meeting your preferred weight, and it was beginning to take a harsher toll on you now more than ever with Kiri around all the time

It was easier to ignore it when you lived by yourself in secluded bliss, where the walls of where you lived couldn’t talk or pass judgement about your eating habits, the times you did or didn’t keep up with yourself as months of promising to do the Chloe Ting workouts turned into forgetful reminders that dwindled down into barely passing thoughts.

Where you had your own, carefully chosen friends who could relate and share the secrets of their insecurities, the little area of pudge that just won’t go away, that upper area of their arms of legs that refused to build muscle even after months of eating straight protein and going to the gym.

You got to choose your own happiness, you got to choose if you wanted to spend countless hours scrolling through social media with your coworkers, gazing in envy at the hundreds of models people swooned over, or if you wanted to call it a day and eat a whole bucket of cookies and cream ice cream while watching a sappy rom com, just because it made you happy

But now, not so much

You could tolerate Kiri gradually distancing yourself from friends who he thought didn’t have the “best interests” for you

You could patiently follow the chipper rules of his house to wait for him when he got home, greet him at the door in nice clothes, and sit down to eat dinner with him

You even started getting used to having his eccentric, loud friends over who bustled and teased you around when Kiri invited them over for a boys night even if that “boys night” ended in them being hurriedly ushered out as he caught a glimpse of you in an accidentally-provocative apron

But your sanity and self worth was slowly started to snap like an overstretched rubber band when it came to trusting your body. Your mutinous, betraying body that just didn’t do what you fucking wanted it to do, that was constantly compared to the models friends Kirishima would bring around, like Mina and Jirou

They were angels, of course, so, so sweet to you

Constantly reassuring you that the new dress your captor boyfriend practically shoved you in in his eagerness to see you in red (his color) fit oh so well on you

They tried to convince you that no, the dress wasn’t stretched too tight on you to be considered healthy, and no, it didn’t need to be shrank in some places either

They tried, they really did

Unfortunately for them however, their relentless support didn’t hold a candle’s light to the body builders and Pilates instructors Kiri would model with for health magazines almost every month

They could never understand what it was like to be in constant doubt and shame when you feel your seemingly mismatched figure, their bodies reflecting healthy proportions in every nook and corner, skin and smooth and soft as a baby’s, with glowing reflections of perspiration

And you always seemed like the only poor unfortunate soul who sat in the corner, sulking and watching ripped muscles and leaned, toned limbs mingle amongst each other to socialize and effortlessly slide inside various apparel that of course fit their body and shaped them in ways you couldn’t even dream of

And it didn’t help that night after night, Kiri would hold you on his lap, bouncing his eager knee as he shoveled bite after bite of food into your unwilling mouth

He infantilized the hell out of you, convinced you were too naive and self-loathing to see your true beauty and how he had to take it on himself to show you what he saw in you

It made you feel pathetic, and helpless. Maybe that’s what you were though, maybe that’s really what he was trying to show you

You felt like you deserved it, anyways

So you stand there, on the weighing machine, feeling the last shreds of self confidence slip down and out of your body, akin to the light tears that splash on the marble bathroom floor.

“Babe? What’re you doing?”

Aw, fuck

You quickly brushed away your tears and stifled your imminent sobs to avoid being coddled as usual by the gentle giant who stood behind you

It frustrated him to no end, no doubt. It didn’t matter how often he’d sit you down and kiss you all over, letting you know how much he loved every precious inch of your body, it didn’t matter how gently he’d cradle your face to force you to look into his eyes just to tell you how beautiful you were, how lucky he is to have kidnapped you

It was never enough for your fragile heart, and he saw it in the way you flinched under his praise and shrunk under his loving gaze that raked over your body that he compared to an angel’s

As if you thought he was a liar, just saying it for your sake

As if you didn’t believe his words, as if you didn’t want to believe his words

As if you were disobeying him

“It-its nothing Kiri, just PMS,” you mumbled, the snot in your nose making you sound nasaly and shaky

“Your period was two weeks ago, and none of your symptoms have ever made you throw up.” He says with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossing as he leans against the doorframe

So he did see you slip out after dinner and head straight for the toilet, huh?

Busted

If he wasn’t so worried about you, he would’ve ditched the mild tone kept up for your sake and had you bent over one knee with a red ass just for lying to him

But from the way you quickly step off the scale and attempt to squeeze past him tells him you aren’t just being hard-to-get, you’re not in one of your resistance fits

And he thinks he knows exactly what’s causing you to not-so-subtly shift your eyes from the weighing scale back to your own body, as if you hadn’t already been doing that for weeks now

He just has to make sure

“Did someone say something to you?” He catches your arm and gently yet firmly prevents you from slipping past him outside the bathroom, away from him

“No, no, seriously I just felt sick, I think I ate something weird,” you try to laugh breezily but the waver in your voice does nothing but further increase Kirishima’s aching heart for you

“You sure? ‘Sure I don’t need to go talk to someone who maybe said the wrong thing to you?” And although his cheerful voice holds nothing but playful jest, the dark glint in his eye does nothing to indicate that all he wants is a friendly talk, especially when he tightens his grip on your arm and pulls you so close that you’re nose to nose with him, looking right at him with tears eyes and flushed cheeks

There’s no point in pretending anymore. He might seem like an airhead, but he’s not one of the city’s top hero because of his airy, gentle nature

“Ugh, no Kiri, no one said anything to me. I just…” you trail off, not wanting to feel the inevitable embarrassment you’ll feel when you tell him the truth

How disgusting you feel when you see his buff, toned, chiseled body that’s akin to a Greek God’s compared to yours

How you long to secretly have the right figure to one day be worthy enough to be deemed his partner in a modeling gig, just once, just to feel like you’re worthy of him and his equivalently built body, a body that reflects hard work and perseverance

Something you seldom see or feel in your own mass of distorted limbs

“What is it?” He pleads softly, begging you to let him fix anything for you, to let him be a man good enough for you

You look into his ruby red eyes that hold a puppy-in-love expression, and when you find only adoration for you in them, you can’t help yourself for falling into the trust and care you so desperately want in that moment

“I’m…so tired of not feeling good about myself. About feeling overweight, underweight, seeing bits of pudge and flab in one area and then seeing some thin and gangly areas in others. Like, I just want my body to be normal, to be healthy like all the people you model with. I feel like nothing I do or eat or wear makes my body look how I want it to look, and no matter how much I try it’s so hard for me to see the beauty of what you see in it.”

And finally you can’t bear looking at him anymore, so you squeeze your eyes shut and turn away

Much to his credit, he pulls you in and nestles your head against his chest, letting your tears and snot wet his tank top

“Oh hun, is that all this is?”

You roll your eyes and try to pull back from his chest, but he doesn’t allow it as he simply holds you there, shushing you and rocking you back and forth

“Kiri, that’s a pretty big thing for me.”

“I know, but…why are you so concerned about how they look anyways? I mean, that’s their job, right? To look good for pictures!”

“I don’t understand,” your voice comes out muffled against his shirt.

“What I’m saying is,” he chuckles and soothes a hand through your hair, “is that you shouldn’t compare yourself to people that have nothing to do with your daily life. Like, you wouldn’t compare yourself to a firefighter right? ‘Cuz thats their job, to save people, not yours. Similarly with models and shit, that’s their job to look good. You didn’t sign up to be a model, so you shouldn’t stress yourself to look like them. Plus, it’s not like it has any affect on what kind of person you are on the inside, you feel me? I’ve met some pretty nasty and rude people with killer bodies, but can you guess how much respect I had for them?”

You nod slowly, still not fully grasping his confusing logic but sort of getting the underlying meaning to it

“But it’s hard not to compare my body to theirs when you’re constantly around them.” You admit. “It feels like I’m not good enough either to be next to you when I’m just sitting on my ass, not doing anything” You grip his shirt and let the last of your tears out, accepting his soft and heavy hands stroking against your back and up and down your shoulders

“So? Do you ever see Sero or Denki modeling next to me? Or Mina and Jirou?”

He did have a point.

“No,” you say slowly.

“Exactly, because models and bodybuilders have a job to dedicate themselves to a life of working out. They do it because that’s what a majority of their life goes to get paid for. It’s all superficial, that’s not how the average person is, like the friends I mentioned. Otherwise the whole world would be full of people walking around with ripped abs and giant pecs. Could you imagine some lanky dude like Denki sporting a 12-pack and ripped pecs?”

“Hell no,” you laugh breathlessly, the image so horrifying to you both that you feel the vibrations of his boisterous laughter rumble through you and soothe your emotions.

“Now you’re getting it,” he speaks into your hair, the smell of your shampoo flooding his senses and getting him dizzy along with a treacherously rising boner

“Plus, what kind of man would I be if I picked my girl out just because of the way she looked? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful-no, beautiful can’t even begin to describe you. Your palms feel so soft compared to mine, your arms are so beautiful when my hands are wrapped around them, your thighs are just the right size, your stomach is such a comfy pillow for me to lay on, and don’t forget your plush, slick, tight pu-“ he rambles on and you can’t help but yelp and clap a hand over his overworked mouth as his shower of body positivity starts turning more lewd…attesting to the bulge you begin to feel pressing against your leg.

But it’s funny, you can’t seem to find yourself being mad at him as your face flushes and you see not ill-intent and perverseness in his warm eyes, but pure and honest devotion to you and to the words he truly means

It softens your heart, and you use a finger from the hand smushing against his mouth to lift and stroke the side of his cheek, conveying your gratitude to him.

It seems he understands, as he takes his forced moment of silence with patience and just looks at you, hoping this time you could really see what he felt for you.

“The thing is,” he says after a minute, gently taking your hand away and turning you around so that you both were facing the mirror, “I love you because of who you are. If I wanted to date some model, I would’ve done it by now, trust me,” and you swat your hand against his chest as he stifles a laugh and turns you to look at your own reflection in the mirror.

“I didn’t take you just for your body. I took you because of the way you smile, the way your laugh is so soft sometimes and then all roudy and crazy and loud the next. I love you because of how passionate you talk about the things you like, the way you deal with problems, the way you treat others. All these things make me want you, so damn bad.”

He lightly rocks his hips into your backside so you can really feel how much he wants you, and you let out a soft gasp

He doesn’t let you move, however, he just holds one wrist in his meaty palm and holds your jaw in the other, positioning you so that you meet his wondrous gaze in the clear reflection.

He knew he was never known to be the smartest in his class, having Bakugo drag him by the teeth to pass class itself, so he hoped you could overlook his lack of vocabulary that so desperately was trying to tell you that loving you went even beyond anything he could barely articulate.

Leaning towards your ear, his breath tickles your lobe as his sharp teeth graze over your goosebump-riddled flesh.

“And if it takes all night to show you how much you and your perfect body mean to me, I’ll gladly take out any words that don’t do the job and show you physically how I feel. And just the way you are, too.”

If there’s one man who could not give one less of a fuck about how dainty, small, feminine, or easy to handle you may or not be, it’s the birdman himself: Hawks

Running errands with him when he allowed it was hell, though it should’ve been a paradise you felt owed for.

It was bad enough that when you hesitantly asked him what would look good enough to wear when you walked next to him as the Number Two hero’s captive girlfriend, he merely shrugged and said “Whatever you want.”

Which was not of any help, due to his excessive mood swings and possessiveness spiking at the most seemingly harmless things, such as you talking to the checkout worker at a branded store, wearing a skirt that he deemed was for “sluts who put out for attention”, or even not looking directly at him enough when he was talking to you.

So just to play it safe, you decided to wear jeans and a cute blouse, one that you thought did well for your figure and yet remained modest enough for Keigo’s liking.

He gave you a warning look before opening the door outside, silently telling you to behave yourself in public

You always did, of course.

It was never enough to keep him less suspicious of you regardless.

Deciding to bag some groceries first, he kept a tight grip with your hand as you both inconspicuously tried to navigate the winding back alleys, avoiding people and waiting in intervals to pass the street

He had a black cap on with a red feather embroidered at the top, sunglasses and a beige and white jacket that had a high collar for covering his face-you might be lucky to have the freedom to wear what you wanted to a certain extent but Hawks wasn’t so lucky

His wings, of course, couldn’t be concealed regardless of what he wore

The two of you luckily manage to snag a few stores here and there, the groceries in both his and your arms weighing down on your bodies, his feathers doing little aid to help when his wings started sagging under the bulk as well

Which is where you both were finally caught by a gaggle of fangirls

You passed the cafe they gathered around outside, and barely had time to register their squints of suspicion at Hawks and his poorly-shrunken vermillion wings before you heard squeals of recognition coming from their group a couple feet back

He swore under his breath, crushing your hand in a death grip and attempting to speed up further away from them

But the Number Two hero wasnt fast enough for his own good, this time

It was almost inhuman how quickly they caught up to you and swarmed around, effectively cutting you two off from trying to escape

They shoved papers, phones, various body parts and markers in his face, trying to get him to sign each and every article they had on themselves

And poor you were caught in the midst of it, being carelessly jostled around as each girl tried to force her way closer to him

The volume of their excited devotion and praise of him was making your head hurt, and you wondered how Hawks was managing to put up such a flawless, easygoing smile and responding to all their questions and comments without having a panic attack or snapping at them

After a minute or two of pure chaos, with the help of numerous feathers the hero-now-victim finished most of the autographs.

“Well, girls, thank you so much for your support and time, but me and my lady should get going now-“

“-wait, that’s your girlfriend?” One asks pointing at you in disbelief

You give her a weak smile and little wave

“Yup, the one and only!” Hawks beams at you with pride, holding you in an endearing headlock

“Wow…you guys are so cute!” Another chimes in after a few moments of silence, and you try your hardest not to fall into your same old patterns, to not embrace your old thoughts and insecurities with such open arms

But old habits die hard, and they certainly aren’t dead yet

Especially when the first girl thrusts a shiny phone at you, fluttering her lashes and baring her teeth in a poor imitation of a smile. “Would you be a dear and take a picture of all of us with him?”

“Uhh, sure, yeah, no problem.” You decide that getting this whole ordeal over quicker would be the best option for you

But as quick as you want this to pass, you can’t help but take an extra second to see the difference in your hands and hers when you take the phone from her hand

While her smooth, small and soft hands are seemingly unmarked, her acrylics accentuating her feminine form, you feel as though your larger ones should hide in shame in comparison

You’re not a slob, not by any means when you go out with him. But what was previously just you feeling comfortable in your own skin of knuckle hair, cuticles here and there, and nails bitten short from the cold stand anxiety of living with such a volatile man starts to turn into a realization of how different you are to these people who are trimmed to perfection

You shake off the sinking feeling in your heart and back up with the phone as the rest of the girls and Keigo line up for posing

The details in the phone camera do nothing to ease your growing timidity

The screen reflects what you see right in front of you- smooth hair, not a frizzy strand in sight blowing with the wind, perfectly manicured hands that are so delicate and small compared to your boyfriends’ gripping his upper arms, desperate to feel the hero’s assets.

They’re all at a perfect height with him too, the heels and boots they wear so easily lining them up at his chest level so they have a perfect view of his pecs and upwards

All of them are so beautiful and uniform, so dainty and careful with themselves. If one of them said that they were dating Hawks, you’d believe that they were worthy of it too

You snap the picture and hand the device over, trying to hide your trembling bottom lip and frigid hands

The girls thank Hawks a plethora of times, give you some once-overs as well as slight sneers and faux waves, and you both head on your way back home again

You’re quiet that night while making dinner

It’s chicken pad thai, one of his favorite dishes handmade by you

No matter how shit you feel your cooking is, he insists you make him a 3 course meal while he takes a shower, leaving a feather behind to watch over you

Usually it’s fine, usually you ignore or absentmindedly swat away the plumage’s less-than-innocent rendezvous trailing around your body, floating behind your neck to tickle you, “accidentally “ falling in your shirt or wedging itself down your pants (no doubt commanded so by Hawks)

But today, it’s silent and still, precariously perched on the edge of the kitchen counter as it observed and picks up the various sounds and vibrations of your movement as you bustle around the kitchen

It picks up on the way you chop the onions a little too aggressively with your large, clumsy fucking hands

Another reminder of how different you are than the average Hawks Fangirl ™

How they sashay and swing their hips around in a perfect circle when approaching him, while you stumble and trip over your own damn feet, the epitome of clumsiness and gracelessness

The feet which never endow heels or boots often because of the height difference it gives you and Keigo, because of the way you try desperately to adorn different slouches and postures to not look so out of place and awkward around him

And while you’re stirring the pasta in its sauce, the feather also picks up on the rhythm of your shattered heart

Shattered so when you remember how the girls sneered at you because you weren’t femme fatale like them, how you just stood there like a fucking mannequin while they cooed well placed praise, and how eloquent sentences flowed from their tongue like honey

You could only wish you ever spoke like they did, or adopted any of their mannerisms that seemed so natural and effortless like them

Your aching heart thudded dully while you scrutinized your miserable self, and flared up into a kicking rate when you realized you shouldn’t even care what your captor or any of his fan girls thinks

In fact, this was all his fault.

You slammed your mixer down, tapping your fingers against the countertop deep on thought

The vibrations the feather picked up was the last straw of its patience, as it alerted its owner to come and address you

Mumbling under your breath at your predicament, you banged around pots and spoons in your anger, failing to notice the plumage silently join its approaching owner, the water from his shower dripping down his wet shoulders and hair

“What’s goin’ on chickadee? It sounds like you’re tryina’ tear down the kitchen.”

You barely spare him a glance over your shoulder as you take in his bare torso, only a towel wrapped around his midriff

“Nothing. Just finishing up dinner,” you mumble.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing. It sounds like your hearts racing a mile a minute. So I’ll ask you again- what are you so upset?”

He yanks a stirring spoon from your hand and uses his grand wings to turn you towards him, a condescending pout on his face as he amusedly takes in your furrowed eyebrows, heated up cheeks and shaking fists.

He wants to keep pushing me? Fine, then I can play his little game

“You wanna know why I’m upset? I’m upset because I’m here against my will, creating problems for myself that I never even wanted in the first place!”

You jab a finger into his chest and his eyes narrow at your impertinent tone.

“Now wait a sec’-“ but you cut him off immediately, nose to nose with him now as you continue to blare at him

“I’m upset because I never feel fucking good enough for my kidnapper. How pathetic is that? Any time I have to beg you on all fours like a fucking dog to go outside I end up regretting it, ‘cause all I see is how flawed I am!”

He’s staring at you with wide eyes now, actually bewildered at the turn your ranting came to. So it’s not just about being kept here against your will, you’re actually upset about not feeling good enough for him?

“Those girls today…they were so perfect and feminine and beautiful and they had such small fucking hands that would fit perfectly in yours like mine never do, and perfectly pedicured feet, and had such pretty voices, fuck, I mean I’d date them too if I were you!”

You ignore the rage and bafflement in his expression, he looks at you like you’re crazy and maybe for the moment you are as you keep mouthing off to him

“So why don’t you, huh? I mean I only go out with you a couple times a year, but you see them almost every day! Girls who have hair that flows like goddamn waterfalls, girls who you could pick up and throw around so easily or at least girls you’re not embarrassed of.”

“I’m clumsy, I can’t walk with grace, I’m not at a height that’s easy for you to look at me with or thats even considered sexy, I probably don’t even weigh anything around you that people would call worthy of being some fit bitch for you!”

At this, you sink to your knees in front of him, almost spent out. You can’t bear for him to see your face, no doubt scrunched up in tears and snot with mussed strands hovering around your face like you just got electrocuted.

Another thing to ridicule yourself about, a fucking crying face. You don’t want him to see another ugly trait about you that he no doubt will snicker about behind your back.

“Isn’t that why you never let me out? Because I’m not cute or good material for tabloids, right? I don’t look good enough or act right for the Number Two hero, and that’s why you’re embarrassed, right? It’s been so long since I tried to last leave so I know you trust me-that means the only reason you hate going out with me and covering yourself up is because you can’t stand to be seen with such a fugly-“

“That’s enough.” His cold voice booms louder than yours, and you startle at that.

“Look at me, Y/N.” The tone at which he speaks leaves no room for argument, but when you continue to look down he snarls and detaches a feather, forcing your head up with it.

“You keep calling yourself all these things, but don’t tell me that moronic is another word you’re gonna add on, right? I mean you can’t possibly be that stupid enough to believe all those things you just said.”

You glare at him, sure that this was just a way for him to get you to shut up.

“I thought living with the Number Two hero would let some intellect rub off on you, but I guess it’s the complete opposite, if anything. Because you seem to have forgotten your place in my house.”

You yelp when suddenly a multitude of other feathers zoom towards you, pulling at your limbs and clothes as they lift you into the air, suspended to a height a couple of feet above Hawks’ eye level.

He just stands there with an eerie smirk on his face as he watches you flail around midair, trying to regain your balance.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re 6’3 and have bigger hands than me.”

With a flick of his finger, the feathers are directed to slam your body into the ground, leaving you wheezing on your back.

“And it doesn’t matter if you’re 4’7 and fall over yourself every time I call for you.”

He stands above you now, hands in his pockets and he smiles down at your curled up body. You look at him cautiously, unsure of what he’s playing at.

“You’re mind because I want you. I want everything about you, your heart, your mannerisms, your soul, your movements-they all belong to me and only me.”

He crouches down to a kneel, gently running a hand through your hair before turning it into a fist and yanking your head up to face him.

“And there isn’t a goddamn thing that’s gonna stop me from having you, when I want, and how I want. You think you have a chance of leaving me, or me leaving you when I, in your words, ‘go out and see beautiful girls like that all the time?’ If I haven’t left you for them by now, I sure as hell never will.”

You decide for now to take the backhanded compliment about being able to leave in silence. In a messed up way, he was proving his loyalty, and right now you needed all the reassurance you could get.

“And why the hell do you care how you look in public anyways, huh? Are you trying to seduce someone?”

You frantically object, and he sneers at your desperation. “Good, because it should only matter what I think, and you wanna know what I think?”

You stare at him wide eyed now as he pulls your head closer to him

“I don’t give a flying fuck if you think you’re some foxy slut or if you feel like a clumsy oaf. Because you wanna know why?”

He starts unzipping his fly with a handy feather, and you mentally berate yourself for pushing him to a point where he has to ‘prove his love’ to you, knowing where this was heading.

“Because when you’re sucking my cock or lying underneath me, it doesn’t matter how tall or short you are. When I tell you to take your clothes off and hump my foot like the good little bitch in heat you are, I don’t care how much you weigh. I’m still choosing you to be my fuckmeat, my obedient play-toy when I want, and I’m doing it with all your ‘flaws’, aren’t I? ”

You cringe when his tongue flicks out against your earlobe and down your jaw, your endeavors of trying to shove him away proving fruitless as he just snarls and bites your neck.

“Even if you think you don’t have the prettiest, smallest, biggest, or smoothest hands, they’re still the hands I’m choosing to play with my balls, yeah? I mean, you should be proud of your fucking sexy and lewd body…look at what it does to me.”

He gestures to his exposed member now which is hard against your thigh. You bite back a whimper as he begins to tear open your shirt with one free hand as the other slips down your pants.

“So be a good girl and show me how proud you are of being mine.”

[carrotmakar]

The Best Kind Of Night

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: After a long day filled with meetings and overbearing reminders of deadlines, Harry’s in need of a little time with his girl.

Warning(s): Stressed out H, a spa night, mentions of nudity (nothing explicit or sexual), and innuendo to some sexy time (but nothing to dramatic), fluff, not edited (i JUST had people beta read a piece for me and I don’t wanna bother them lmao)

A/N: anon requested: painting harry’s nails after he had a long day, followed by a bath together and cuddling. I’m currently working on a longer piece but I got this request and just had to write it (partially because of how cute it is and partially because i want to procrastinate for longer)!!!!! I have like, 15 other requests that are still in the works, so if you see me write someone else’s request and not yours, don’t worry, I’m getting to it!! also!!!! the gif has like, nothing to do with the piece i just really like it!!

Masterlist | Taglist | Request - Guidelines | Come Talk To Me!!

Reblogs help a lot and are greatly appreciated!!

*

When he was sixteen, he never thought that being a singer could be this hard. In his head it was simple: write songs, record the songs, go on tour. And when he was in a band, it still kind of seemed like that, especially because he had other boys to help him do everything. 

But now he realizes that it’s a lot harder than he thought at sixteen, and sometimes he feels like it’s near impossible to do it on his own. 

Every single day it’s “Harry, I need you to approve this” or “Harry, you need to redo this” or “Harry, there’s something that requires your immediate attention.” Sometimes it almost feels like it’s too much. There’s only so much he can handle before his brain feels on the verge of bursting at the seams with all the things that he has to do. 

On days like today, where it was meeting after meeting, he’s drained. At the end of the day all he wants to do is go home and spend time with the love of his life. He wants to ask about her day and have her ramble on for as long as she wants about all the little things that made her day enjoyable.

That’s what he’s looking forward to when Jeff stops him and tells him that there’s yet another emergency meeting that Harry has to attend. He barely stops himself from audibly groaning about the prospect of having to sit through another meeting when he could be at home with his girl. The last thing that he wants right now is to go sit at a table with a bunch of people he sees once a week and do absolutely nothing but sign a paper or two. But he’s not really in the mood to push it off and then have Jeff mad at him, so he follows him to the conference room and takes his seat.

*

She can tell that he’s had a long day the moment that he walks through the door without his usual pep. Normally, there’s a smile on his face, albeit a tired one, and a twinkle in his eyes. Tonight, though, none of that’s there. It’s just a blank face, almost like he’s not entirely present.

“Hey, honey. Welcome home.” She greets as she pads over to where he’s kicking off his shoes.

“Hey, baby.” He mumbles. He sounds exhausted and she knows that he’s going to need some loving tonight so that he doesn’t go to bed upset about today.

“Wanna tell me about work?” She tries to gauge what exactly caused him to be like this. She knows that it has to be something to do with the business part of his musical career, but she needs to know exactly what’s gotten him to this point so that she’ll know what to do to fix it.

“Just meetings and Jeff badgering me about getting things done.” Before he can even finish the entire sentence, she has her arms wrapped around him.

She knows exactly what he needs to get his mind off of the stress and aggravation that’s weighing him down. Fortunately, it had been a while since he had paid enough attention to the details of his appearance to give himself a spa day, so she has enough room to give him the entire experience.

“Want me to paint your nails, H?” She suggests, knowing that he most likely does but just won’t openly ask for it.

‘You don’t have to do that, love.” He tries to assure her that it’s not something that’s required of her, but she can tell by the way that he slightly straightened up that the thought of having her redo his nails excited him.

“Nonsense, I want to do it.” She nudges him slightly to emphasize her point.

“Fine, if you insist.” He gives her a small grin, which she fully lights up at. She’s already getting him to destress and that makes her happier than just about anything. 

She drags him to their bedroom and instructs him to sit on the bed. Once he complies, she walks over to the bottom drawer of her nightstand and pulls out the bag that she keeps full of nail products just for him.

Pulling out the nail polish remover and the cotton balls, she sits down beside him and adjusts everything to where she’ll be the most comfortable using it. She dampens the cotton balls with the remover and gets to work on stripping his nails of the polish. After a few minutes of rubbing away at his nails, she disposes of the used cotton balls and picks up the cuticle pusher.

“Please be gentle.” He all but whines when he sees the tool in her hand.

“I’d never hurt you, baby.” She coos, putting the pusher down to grab ahold of his hands.

“I know, it just scares me a little bit still.” She softens even more than she ever thought possible at his words. He’d always been a little weary about the nail tool, but she always made sure to let him know that he’d be fine. She knows that it can look a little intimidating, especially when she’s pushing his cuticles back.

“I’ll be careful, honey. I promise.” He lightly shuts his eyes and nods, signaling for her to continue what she was doing. She picks the pusher back up and takes her time pushing each cuticle back, making sure not to push too hard or go too fast. 

After she’s done, he reopens his eyes and smiles at her. “Thank you, love.”

She leans up slightly and presses a quick peck to his lips. “It’s my pleasure, baby.” He blushes slightly at the pet name and it makes her heart swell in her chest. “Now, what color are we thinking?”

“Um, what color are you gonna do yours next?” He asks, looking up at her through his lashes.

“Probably pastel yellow. I’ve been wanting to do yellow for a while but I don’t think the neon would look good on me.” She slightly scrunches her nose at the thought of neon yellow nails and he chuckles lightly at how cute she looks. 

“Then I think I’ll do pastel yellow too, if you don’t mind us matching.” The blush returns to his cheeks and she quickly agrees with the idea of matching him. 

As she pulls out the perfect shade, he fidgets with the hem of his pants. Normally, this is something that would go unnoticed, but tonight everything is making her wonder how he’s doing.

“You alright, H?” He snaps his head up to meet her eyes and his hands stop all movement.

“Yeah, why?” He looks like a deer caught in headlights and she’s confused as to why he looks so nervous.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” He quickly nods his head and looks away. She decides to let the subject drop, but not even a minute later, he sighs and looks back over at her.

“Can we take a bath after my nails dry?” He rushes his words, like they burn his tongue. 

“Of course, honey.” The smile that breaks out onto his face makes his dimples pop and she feels like her heart skips a few beats. 

They fall silent while she finishes painting his nails and applying the top coat. 

She’s just thinking about getting up to go run the water when he all but whispers her name. “Can you tell me about your day?” 

“Yeah, what do you wanna know?” She maneuvers herself until she’s sat beside him instead of in front of him. He cranes his neck to the side to look at her and she motions for them to lay back on the pillows at the top of the bed.

“Dunno really. Just wanna know how your day went. Like…” He pauses for a moment so he can focus on getting comfortable without messing up his still damp nails. “Like, what you had for breakfast, how the drive to work was, what you had for lunch, if anyone was rude to you, that kinda stuff.”

Once they’re both settled into the pillows, she looks over at him. “I had pancakes for breakfast, they were really good. I put chocolate chips on them.” She reaches out to push a stray curl out of his face. “Um, the drive was alright. I listened to your songs on the way so it made it go by a little faster.” She pauses, immediately regretting telling him that. Yeah, she’s supportive but sometimes she finds it weird to listen to his songs in the car. It’s a feeling that she can’t quite put a finger on, but she’s scared that he’ll find it even weirder than she does.

“Which ones?” He urges her to continue, not even batting an eye at the fact that she listens to his songs even when he’s not around. But really, now that she actually takes a moment to think about it, why would he? He listens to his own songs, so why wouldn’t she?

“Um, ‘Sweet Creature’ was first, and then I put on ‘Fine Line’ and finished with ‘Golden’.” She reaches down to grab one of his hands. She lightly taps at the nail to see if it’s dry and finds that they’re completely set.

“Can we go take our bath now? You can keep telling me about your day there.” He basically whines out the words and she can’t help but chuckle.

“Of course, sweetheart. Come on.” She pushes herself up and out of bed and reaches for his hands. He gladly grabs onto her and lets her lead him to the bathroom.

“Thank you for this.” He stops right inside the bathroom door and spins her around and into his arms. 

“You don’t need to thank me.” She mutters into his chest and he squeezes her tighter. 

“Yes I do. You don’t have to do things like this for me.” She pulls back slightly so she can look at him.

“You’re right, I don’t. But I do it because I love you, H.” She runs a hand up his chest to the side of his neck. “And when you come home like you did today, I just wanna see you happy.”

“I love you too, baby.” He whispers before leaning down slightly to attach their lips. After a moment, she pulls back and moves away from him. He begins to pout before he realizes that she’s moving to start the bath.

He follows behind her and watches as she adjusts the water to the temperature that was just right for them to be able to sit in the bath together for as long as they wanted. She inserts the stopper into the drain and turns back around so she’s facing him.

“Can I undress you?” Normally when he asks that question, it doesn’t sound like he’s a little kid hoping to be allowed to get a new toy.

She nods her head and he closes the small distance between them. His hands immediately drop to the hem of her shirt. Before pulling it up and over her head, he looks at her again for confirmation. Her nod is all he needs to slip off the shirt and throw it into the counter. She hadn’t been wearing a bra, so he moves down to her sweatpants. Normally he would have taken a moment to admire her body, but that’s not what this moment is about.

After he slides her sweats and her panties down her legs, she kicks them off and moves to undress him. She takes her time unclasping all of the buttons on his shirt and carefully slides it down his arms. The shirt gets draped over the towel rack, as will his pants once they’re off. She may be ready to get into the bath with him, but there’s no way that she’s going to throw Gucci clothes on the floor without a second thought. 

Before she goes to unclasp his pants, she reaches over and turns off the water that was filling the bath. When she turns back around, she sees that he’s already finished undressing himself. 

“You’re so impatient.” She complains, although she’s not actually upset by it in the slightest.

“Just wanna be close to you.” He gives her his best puppy eyes and she immediately pushes him closer to the bathtub.

“Get in.” He does as he’s told, sliding through the bubbles and into the water. He makes grabby hands at her and she moves to get in with him. She steps into the tub and situates herself between his legs. Her back is to his chest and his arms instinctively wrap around her torso. The moment that her body relaxes into his she can feel him sigh in content.

She leans her head back against his shoulder and cranes her neck to try and look at him. “Feel better baby?”

“Much better. This is exactly what I needed.” He leans in and presses a quick kiss to her lips before pulling away and completely relaxing.

She takes a moment to admire how peaceful he looks. His appearance had done a full one eighty from the time that he had walked in the door until now, and she was glad to be the reason that he felt so much better.

She turns back around and gets comfortable before relaxing into his body. 

As much as she hated seeing him stressed out and worked up, she loved having nights like these with him, and she’d never turn down the opportunity to pamper him.

*

Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!! Again, don’t be afraid to reblog and leave feedback!

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[arminbitchlover]

hiiiii can i request some armin fluff🙊

hey love, i'm not sure what kind of fluff you wanted so i did a bunch of random modern au fluff hcs, if it wasn't what you wanted you can definitely send another request! some of these are really oddly specific 😺

pairing: armin arlert x gn! reader

content warnings: none

his favorite thing to do with you is driving with no destination

he loves the deep conversations; whether it be about your future together or if aliens exist, he could talk to you for hours

and having his hand on your thigh makes him feel really warm inside

he thinks it's so fun to coordinate your outfits for dates, so he always tries to come up with themes or a small color pallette

he shows you off ALL THE TIME, even if it's just subtly like turning on his phone near his friends so they can see the picture of you on his lock screen or just straight up talking to them about the amazing things about you

INTERLOCKING PINKIES > HOLDING HANDS

for anniversaries, he usually doesn't buy expensive gifts (exception for your bdays) but rather makes amazing homemade ones instead

if you have siblings or pets, he'll build such a great bond with them that they start preferring armin over you

armin loves to cuddle with you, he doesn't care if he's big spoon or little spoon, he just loves being close to you

every time you compliment him, his cheeks will always get dusted with pink

while it isn't rare for people to tell him how smart he is or when he's doing a good job at something, it makes it a billion times better when it's from you

he loves to finger trace you when you're feeling stressed out especially on your back and forearms

obsessed with seeing you in his clothes

will always try his hardest to become knowledgeable in all of your interests so when you're rambling on about them he can know what you're saying and join in on the conversation

if you have even the slightest scratch on your finger, he would immediately pull out his personalized first aid kit and tend to it

matching nail polish colors

you won't know but he has a playlist dedicated to you to listen to when you're away

looks forward to playing minecraft with you when you're free at night

he just adores seeing how concentrated you get with your goals for the night, whether it's building a beautiful house, finding diamonds, building a farm, literally anything

if you wear glasses, he loves to push them up for you when they're sliding down your nose

he'll make matching anklets with each other's initials for your 6 month anniversary

when he first develops a crush on you it is so obvious & you couldn't help but think how adorable he is since he gets really flustered when it comes to romantic feelings

takes pictures of you doing absolutely anything

you could look your worst doing dishes and he'll think you look amazing and take a picture and add it to his never ending album of you

prefers seeing you in person rather than facetime/texting

if you're a person that's super into skin care, he'll ask for you for a bunch of advice for products and will do his new routine with you

loves to take you out to eat, specifically to see you get all dressed up and admire how perfect you look

if you celebrate halloween, matching costumes are a MUST

he adores watching you sleep, he just loves seeing how relaxed your face gets and thinks it's so cute when you drool

he tries to match his breathing with yours at the most randomest times

he will always come to you for advice about anything mainly just to hear your voice and see the way your lips move

when either of you are feeling overwhelmed you have an adult coloring book that you guys share and talk about what's been bothering you as you color

cheek/forehead kisses are his favorite to give you

when you first met, he knew that you were the one he would love forever

loves it when you guys team up to pull pranks on your friends, especially eren since he gets frustrated so easily

appreciates any little thing you do for him

if you do any type of extracurricular (sports, band, drama, art etc.) he will be your #1 supporter and will always motivate you to do your best

when you're feeling sick he'll drop everything to take care of you

he won't even care if you get him sick too

loves it when you play with his hair

he always insists that he carries your things: purse, backpack, wallet, jacket, just everything

has a photo framed of the both of you on his nightstand so he can look at it when he's falling asleep

his contact photo of you is you sleeping against his chest

if you're into crystals he'll make sure to buy you one of those heart shaped boxes full of them as one of your gifts

and if you got him matching crystal necklaces, he would never take it off

is super understanding with everything you go through so it's honestly really rare that you get in arguments

he can never say no to you, he just loves seeing you happy

taking mirror pics with you >>>>

will always remind you to hydrate even if you're really consistent about it

has a collage of pictures of you on his wall

he's the best study buddy, he just always wants you to be at your best so he'll do everything he can to help you

if you're ever upset or sad he'll make you your favorite meal and will watch your comfort movie and just try to distract your mind as much as possible

he has a collection of nerf guns from over the years so you'll set bets and have nerf gun battles to see who wins

[pbandjesse]

Today was a good day. It was beautiful out. And I felt good. I wish I did more stuff but I worked for a few hours and that made me feel productive. So that's positive.

I slept okay. When I woke up when James was leaving I asked them to put more blankets on me. And was able to sleep another hour. Very cozy. I stayed in bed for a while longer.

When I did finally get up I felt alright. It was chilly in here. I got washed up and dressed and I thought I looked very cute. I love this dress.

I did not do a great job taking care of myself today. I had a cupcake for breakfast. And then didn't eat again until way later in the afternoon. But I will do better tomorrow.

I was very disappointed to find that my super glued nail did not hold and it actually ripped worse and tore my skin. Which hurt very much. So I took all my nail polish off and tried to shape them and honestly it doesn't look to terrible. The nail polish remover hurt my one finger so bad. But I was able to get everything off. My fingernails were pretty stained from ink and hair dye. So I would buff them and treat them and paint them blue. Which I think looks really nice.

I worked on a new to do list. A lot of small stuff but import. And I was even able to cross two things off already and that was excellent. But there was much to do and I felt a little overwhelmed.

I would hang out in bed for a long time. I started reaching out to friends about the day of jobs for the wedding. This was exceedingly hard for me. I am not good at asking for help. I feel like I am taking advantage or being a burden. I look at the list and I'm just like. I could do all this. Why would I ask for help? But it's my wedding. I am supposed to not be stressing about packing up my decorations after. Or who's going to make sure everyone gets tipped.

Dad ended up calling me at almost the perfect time and he reminded me how much we are alike in that. That we don't like asking for help or accepting help. But that I should. He also should but I don't think he'll admit that.

We talked for a while. And when we got off the phone. I told Jess how I was feeling. And she said to pretend bridezilla is a game or a role. And to play that role.

So I sent the texts. Jess is going to handle a few things. Callie some more. Charlie is going to be in charge of making sure everything is packed at the end of the night. Asking for help is growth.

I wanted to go pick up batteries for our string lights and my camera. And so I went to five below and target. The line in target was insane. But I got a good price on batteries (after five below did not have any). And I got a little deer. At five below I got a full camera?? I am curious what they will look like if I ever actually get them developed.

I needed to eat. I was not sure what I wanted. I ended up getting Panera. Which was mid at best. The soup was good enough. The flat bread I got with it was not great. Just super cheap red sauce. But I had half of it and saved the other half for later.

I had to take a long way home because there was a Latino heritage month street fair of some kind. Horses and sparkly hats was the most I could see. I wish I had stopped honestly.

But instead I took the long way home and got back here with an hour to rest before I had to go to work.

James got home and they looked so handsome and I love them so much. We hung out for a few minutes. But then it was time to go.

I got to the musuem stupid early. But that was fine. Angie was excited to see me. Got many hugs. She is more excited about the wedding then I think anyone. And she is so serious and prickly so often it makes me even more excited because she so excited.

And it was a fun night even if there was some confusion about when things were. But I had fun with Kristen and Angie and we talked about the wedding and I got Angie's professional opinion which was comforting. We also all got $20 tips. Excellent.

I had so many great chats tonight. I honestly started losing my voice I was talking so much. It was just great. So many awesome people. I really had fun.

I also just got to talk about art and bronze casting. I told one lady about all my jobs and she was like woah makes me feel boring and I was like oh don't worry I have exactly no money and she almost choked on her drink.

At the end of the night I ended up telling a guest, Angie, and Kristen about the time I 3D scanned a hummingbird that I found and then printed in plaster before casting in bronze. That was such a good project and I am so sad I don't have any of those pictures anymore. Lost to time and a broken laptop.

Angie made faces at me about my interest in dead birds. Same as James. But we don't have to worry about that right now.

We were set free at 8. And getting home was only slightly hindered by the football stadium traffic. James and their sister are at the game and I hope they are having fun.

I got back here and had the rest of my flat bread. I took a bath. I washed my hair. And I played with some outfits for this week.

Now I am in bed with Sweetp. I pulled out my Thanksgiving sweatshirt for some variety. And I am very cozy.

I am going to wait for James to get home. And then sleep. Tomorrow we will try to knock more stuff off of our to do list. And I'm excited about that. I hope you all have a great night. Sleep good!!

[charming-2d-boys]

What do you reckon are the adult-trio's hobbies, outside of, yanno, murdering, thieving, and stalking?

Okay, the way this was worded made me laugh out loud, ngl 😂

But that's an interesting thought, so let’s see...

Also thank you for the request and I hope you like it! 😄

Chrollo

I can't even say that stealing is a hobby because it's so ingrained into him that it's practically a way of life

we already know that he likes old books, but actually, he just wants to seem really well-read

which he is, of course, but he also likes reading comic books and romance books (talk about a guilty pleasure)

Chrollo. Loves. Baths

for real, he grew up in Meteor City and you've seen how it looks like over there, so now, whenever he's got the possibility, he just fills the tub, drops a bath bomb and just soaks in until his fingers get wrinkles

also, he loves the cleanliness and how good he smells and man, does he feel rejuvenated or what?

always wanted to learn how to cook fancier dishes (for whoever he was trying to seduce or impress)

never made it, mostly because he almost burnt the kitchen down after he left something to simmer because eh, he could read while he waited and... he pretty much threw the whole pot away

Chrollo never learnt how to swim, but whenever the Troupe go somewhere where there's a pool, he just lounges and tries to either sleep, read or read until he falls asleep

none of the members really stay next to him or on the same side as him on the edge of the pool after he accidentally pushed Feitan in... who dragged Phinks... who grabbed Machi by her swimsuit as she was passing by with her drink

Shalnark, Nobunaga and Uvo laughed their asses off that day as Chrollo just looked at them as if it was their fault they fell

said an oops under his breath as he tried not to smile behind his book while everyone else was ready for bloodshed as Phinks screamed at Feitan that he's an idiot and that he was innocent and sorry at Machi, Machi had her threads ready to tie him up and hang him upside down from a tree and Feitan was glaring at Chrollo from the pool, only his eyes visible as the rest of his body could barely reach the bottom of the pool (yes, he was standing on his toes)

Franklin just felt as if his hair was going white by the second from stress

Chrollo asked Machi to teach him how to sew better since some of his shirts kept ripping because of his... muscles

doesn't like Hisoka, but loves his magic tricks and he'd like to learn some (again, to seduce and impress potential targets, but also to entertain himself), but he'd be damned if he's gonna ask second-hand Ronald MacDonald to teach him

definitely tried looking those tricks up on YouTube and while some were really easy, he always grumbles because Hisoka's are always so cool and complicated and he wants to know how to do them, damn it

Hisoka

Hisoka sucks at singing

he knows it and guess what? He loves annoying his neighbours at Heaven's Arena by singing horribly and loudly until his voice cracks and even then, he continues until he feels his throat becoming sore

likes going shopping, especially after cosmetics and self-care products

and no, not just makeup, but anything: face masks, mists, face creams, hand creams, moisturizers, body sprays, bath bombs, bubble bath, you name it

Hisoka always smells nice because of this

even when he's had a fight and he's got blood on his body, whether it's his or his enemy's, the sweet smell of his shower gel almost overpowers the pungent smell of blood

doesn't ever buy sweets because he doesn't like them, except for Bungee Gum and the candy that usually came with Texture Surprise, and those are mostly out of nostalgia

even when he doesn't fight someone, he likes moving around and just has to busy himself with something

often goes jogging in the park nearby or hits the gym - not even gonna tell you how much he loves the attention he receives because he knows he looks good

he never really liked reading, so he doesn't really own many books and rarely even buys any, but he does have a few books of different genres that he re-reads sometimes

enjoys researching about the Dark Continent after hearing all those stories as a kid and wishing he could see for himself what it was like

has an entire room that is used as a gym if he doesn't feel like going outside or can't and buys a new boxing bag almost monthly

Hisoka likes playing rhythm games on his phone whenever he has to wait for something or someone and doesn't feel like using his cards to make a house of cards

likes drawing and creating clothes for himself, which he then takes to a tailor who is used to Hisoka's style and taste in clothing

Illumi

is needle polishing a hobby? For Illumi, it is

he loves playing with Mike, even if Mike is... not really like a normal dog, but even he appreciates a good belly rub

likes travel guides, especially because of some missions when he had to know about certain places and he ended up getting interested in everything the country/island/town had to offer

even as a kid and even now, Illumi sometimes sneaks into the kitchens for a late snack - everyone knows, no one bothers to tell him - and lives for those rare moments when there's ice cream in the freezer (mostly for Milluki, but he always leaves it for Illumi anyway because he has enough snacks and likes making his brother happy like that, even if it's a small gesture)

the Zoldyck estate has an indoor pool where Illumi always goes swimming and just float as he lets himself not care about anything or anyone - that's his moment and his favourite place where he feels the most relaxed

started learning how to make origami after hearing about the 1000 cranes that could grant your wish

doesn't really know what he would wish for, but it's mostly so he wouldn't have to ask Nanika

so, because of that, he left the cranes (203 to be exact) and started making other things out of paper

really likes brushing his hair and sometimes asks his mother to do it for him like she did when he was younger

Illumi likes playing hide and seek with Kalluto to test whether they can feel each other's presence or not

really enjoys buying and lighting candles around his room and whenever he takes a bath and can relax

always chooses those that smell like flowers

[organabanana]

leaves of three, let it be [2/3] || harlivy

Chapters: 2/3

Fandom:  DCU (Comics)DCUHarley Quinn (Comics)Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel

Characters: Pamela Isley, Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle

Additional Tags: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of batman fucking bats, most of this is straight up idiocy tbh, i just finished watching the cartoon so everyone swears like a sailor i’m sorry, rated for (ahem) happenings later on, ivy/harley/catwoman frenemies

Summary

After Harley mistakenly confesses her love and then promptly takes it back, Ivy spends some time sorting through the things she absolutely doesn't feel (and the ones she does). Selina and Harley don't quite help.

Chapter 1: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 2: AO3

If you ever asked Poison Ivy if she’s into meditation, she’d say she isn’t.

Actually, if you ever asked Poison Ivy if she’s into meditation, she’d probably stare you down until you crumbled under the sheer weight of her judgment and apologized for ever talking to her, but that’s beside the point.

The point is, Ivy doesn’t meditate. The concept of meditation, if you ask her, goes in the same patchouli-scented box as moon-charged crystals and essential oils.

No. What Ivy does is… introspection. Yeah. She introspects. She consciously clears her mind of all intrusive thoughts. Which may sound a lot like meditation, maybe? But — she cannot stress this enough — it’s not the same thing.

So there she is. Sitting on her couch. Introspecting. And it may look like she’s staring off into the distance, but she’s actually looking at a nearly invisible, tiny little hint of a green sprout that’s managed to grow in a crack on the windowsill.

There it is. A tiny little fighter. Just like—

Nope.

No way.

We are absolutely not thinking about her. We’re introspecting. So Ivy takes in a deep breath, in through her nose, eyes fluttering closed as she exhales slowly and then opens them and tries again.

As she was saying. A tiny little sprout. She could go over there and touch it and quite literally breathe life into it. She can’t tell what kind of plant it is, but she could make it bloom if it’s a flowering species. What if it’s a tree? She could make it grow so big its roots would tear this whole building apart just like her heart was torn apart last ni—

Motherf—

“Morning, my little dill pickle.”

Selina climbs in through the window, practically gliding into Ivy’s apartment with the kind of grace that would normally make Ivy stop and stare and perhaps have a not-quite-respectful thought or two.

Listen: she has eyes. Don’t read into it.

Anyway. As graceful and ridiculously nimble as Selina is, she’s also way up high in Ivy’s shit list at the moment (second only to you know who), so today is not the day for lighthearted conversation and platonic crushes.

“Fuck you, Selina,” Ivy offers as a greeting, glancing at the plant to make sure it’s still there. And it is, of course. Selina fucking Kyle may be a bitch and a half, but she knows how to move without leaving a trace.

“Now?” Selina cocks one perfectly manicured eyebrow at Ivy, the slightest hint of a teasing smirk on her face. “I mean I was gonna offer brunch, but that doesn’t sound like the worst midday plan.”

Ivy simply stares for a moment, as if she’s forgotten if there’s one person in the world that’s absolutely immune to even her most wilting looks, that’s Selina fucking Kyle.

“Oh, come on,” Selina practically groans, “stop it. Brooding is such a teen boy move.”

“I am not brooding.”

“Right.” With one single word, Selina makes it clear that she doesn’t believe Ivy and, most importantly, that she doesn’t care enough to argue. “Anyway. Brunch? My treat.”

Ivy closes her eyes. Not meditating. Just introspecting. Just trying to channel the urge to make a full-grown sequoia grow out of Selina Kyle’s ass into something productive. One deep breath in through her nose and—

“We can have margaritas!” Selina lets out a quiet chuckle as she admires the perfectly matte black polish on her fingernails. “Yikes. Too soon?”

Fuck introspection.

“I. Am going. To fucking murder you.” Ivy stands up with every intention to make good on that promise, and Selina must read it in her eyes because for the first time since Ivy’s known her — for the first time in her life, maybe — Selina looks scared.

Well, maybe not scared.

But she is absolutely concerned.

“Fuck me, Ive, damn,” Selina takes one step back, no longer smirking, “calm down, will you?”

Ivy stops, Selina’s audacity basically jolting her out of her murderous rage. “Calm down, Selina? Fucking seriously? You did what you did and now you come here and tell me to fucking calm down?”

Selina tilts her head just so, like she’s conceding (against her will) that maybe there is a reason for Ivy to be somewhat upset with her.

“Oh, come on,” she sighs, rolling her shoulders like the tension has to leave her body somehow, and it will certainly not be via an apology, “it wasn’t even real poison.”

Ivy’s eyes widen slightly in disbelief. Does Selina think she’s mad because she thinks Harley was in actual danger?

No. No, Selina can’t think that, because Selina may be an asshole, but she’s a very smart asshole. So she must know Ivy’s well aware of Harley’s immunity to toxins. She must know that’s not even remotely the reason Ivy’s spent the last eleven hours and some change introspecting all thoughts of last night out of her mind.

For a split second, Ivy feels something similar to warmth towards Selina as she considers that maybe she’s simply ignoring the embarrassing part of the event to spare Ivy. Maybe she’s pretending this is about Harley’s physical wellbeing and not… well. The other thing.

Sadly, the split second passes.

“If it helps,” Selina says, and even before she finishes the sentence Ivy can already sense it won’t help at all, “it’s totally reciprocated.”

Ivy feels it crawling up her veins, thick like sap. She’s managed to distill plenty of emotions, turned them into tonics and toxins and elixirs and used them for her own benefit and the Green’s. She’s bottled love — well, lust — and hatred and rage. Fear, even. Insanity, ironically enough. But this.

This… this humiliation.

Oh, this is something else.

Ivy closes her eyes. In through her nose, and even the air feels like it has to go through that thick mixture of (public) pain and weakness and acknowledged vulnerability to get to her lungs.

It’s one thing to have Harley see her like this. Like that. Like last night. Defenses down and heart out there in the open like her ribcage’s forgotten its purpose. That’s fine, she figures, because it’s been the norm for years and years and years. It’s nothing new, really, to have Harley see her accidentally stumble over the line into pathetic from time to time. It happens.

But Selina.

Selina fucking Kyle.

Selina saw that and she understood what she was seeing and now she’s acknowledging it, and Ivy isn’t even mad anymore.

I mean, she is. She’s really fucking mad.

She’s just many other things as well as mad, so it’s harder to focus on it.

Out through her mouth. Slowly. And her voice is nice and even when she opens her eyes and looks at Selina once again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ivy lies, walking towards the kitchen like that had been her intention all along, “there is nothing to reciprocate.”

Ivy can feel Selina’s look on the back of her head. She’s not going to give her the satisfaction of turning around, of course. Selina Kyle’s ego is healthy enough as it is. But she can absolutely feel it. A look involving an arched eyebrow and narrowed eyes and possibly a smirk. Maybe the slightest purse of painted lips, if she’s going for judgmental rather than smug.

Selina is multi-faceted in her scorn.

“You have got to be shitting me, Ive,” Selina says, and Ivy still refuses to turn around, focusing instead on staring at the interior of her fridge and ignoring the fact that ninety percent of its contents are there for Harley’s all-day snacking needs.

She ends up grabbing a jug of water not because she’s thirsty, but simply because it’s the only thing in there she knows for a fact is there just for her.

“Seriously?” Selina prods, walking closer and crossing her arms over her chest as she watches Ivy methodically fill a glass of water like it’s a delicate operation that requires her undivided attention. “You’re such a fucking pussy. And I don’t mean that as a compliment.”

Ivy does turn around then, gripping the glass with perhaps a little more force than strictly necessary. In her defense, she’d much rather be gripping Selina’s neck instead.

“Once again, Selina,” she says with a slight shrug, taking a sip of cold water, “no idea what you’re talking about.”

Selina gapes at her. It’s kind of flattering, actually. It’s not every day something leaves Selina Kyle fully unable to speak. Maybe — Ivy thinks to herself, enjoying her water — she’ll never speak again. Maybe she’ll leave Gotham entirely. Wouldn’t that be just—

Ivy’s train of thought is completely derailed by something that is never a good sign: Selina Kyle is laughing.

Not chuckling. Not snickering. Not letting out one of those sarcastic giggles she likes to use to obliterate people’s entire self-esteem.

No. No, this is honest to goodness, full-on belly laughter, and it’s fucking terrifying.

“Wh— what the fuck, Selina?” Ivy asks, trying to sound less scared than she actually is. Selina’s sense of humor is not so much dark as it is downright fucked up, and if she’s finding something in this situation funny, it can only mean someone is about to get crushed, metaphorically or otherwise.

All signs point to Ivy.

“Look at you!” Selina points in the general direction of Ivy, like she’s about to rip her fashion sense to shreds. But this, sadly, has nothing to do with clothes. “Holy shit, you’re in so much deeper than I thought, this is fucking hilarious.”

Ivy takes one step back, until her hip bumps against the counter and she blindly feels around to leave the half-empty glass on it. To her credit, she still manages to try and infuse her voice with something resembling nonchalance one last time.

“You’re not making any sen—“

“Man, you’re in love, in love, huh?”

Ivy’s been shot before. So she feels like she’s not being overly dramatic when she says Selina’s words feel just like that. Like being shot right in the gut. And Ivy tries to be as stoic as she usually is when faced with things like gunshots and blunt force and bat-shaped ninja stars (holy fuck, he’s such a nerd), but she feels a bit like she’s been standing on a castle of cards for the last… however many years it’s been since she met Dr. Quinzel in Arkham, and Selina’s just figured out exactly where to blow to make it all come tumbling down.

“I mean I knew you two were into each other. Obviously,” Selina continues, and Ivy suddenly understands the exact meaning of all those expressions regarding cats and mice, “but I thought it was like… well, you know. Friends in need of a nudge towards the benefits. But this.”

Selina shakes her head, smile as wide as her eyes. She looks both surprised and delighted. Like she’s really just found out there are feelings involved in whatever lust-filled fever dream she’d interpreted as reality before now.

“And you’re the one who’s doing all the yearning. I totally thought she was the useless one. Holy shit.” Selina takes a couple steps in the direction of the window, like using a door like a normal person is simply not an option for her. “How long?”

Ivy opens her mouth, but Selina interrupts her before any sound can come out.

“Don’t answer that. I already know.” Selina waves her hand dismissively. “No wonder you’re fucking terrified. You’d be safer falling in love with an actual hyena.”

“I’m not—“

“Please.” Selina reaches the window and notices that little plant for the first time, giving it a little pat that could almost pass for affectionate if you didn’t know Selina Kyle. “So what’s scarier, Ive?” Selina almost purrs the question. “That she may not love you back, or that she probably does?”

Ivy tells herself she could murder Selina right then and there, with the help from the little plant. Hell, she could probably kill her without help from the plant.

But that wouldn’t really fix anything, right?

“Anyway!” Selina lets out a happy little sigh as she slinks out of the window and onto the fire escape outside. “No brunch, then. I’ll leave you to your brooding.” Her smile turns into a smirk then, eyes narrowed like she’s about to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. “And don’t worry, Ive. I can keep a secret.”

Selina winks at her before she disappears.

Ivy refuses, pointedly, to think about her conversation with Selina.

She tries to go back to her introspection, but it turns out there’s no breathing in and out when your chest is full of feelings to the point of actual physical discomfort, so Ivy gives up on that, too.

She could plot. Scheme, if you will. It’s been a while since she’s gone for an actual multi-step plan to rid Gotham — and, later, the world — of parasitic CEOs profiting off nature. A bit of environmentally friendly murder never fails to put her in a good mood.

But it turns out it’s nearly impossible to come up with a solo plan without being constantly aware of the fact that going solo is no longer her default. A plan involving only herself doesn’t feel like just any random plan anymore. Now it feels like a plan without her, and that’s just— that’s just the opposite of what she needs to be thinking about right now.

So.

What’s an eco-terrorist to do when eco-terrorism is not an option?

Eight hours later she’s in her lab, hair haphazardly held in a bun with a pencil as she looks at her latest experiment through her microscope.

The little sprout from her windowsill sits right next to the microscope in a beaker serving as a makeshift flower pot while Ivy works.

“You know, if this works,” Ivy tells the sprout, eyes trained on the cell that should enter active mitosis any second now, “you’re going to be my sidekick when we take down the next big guy.”

If this works, and she can give this tiny plant the powers she hopes to give her, they can take over Gotham and the world as a team. Ivy’s always worked best with plants, anyway. Who needs—

“Red?”

Harley’s voice is uncharacteristically mellow, but it manages to startle Ivy anyway.

“Jesus, Harley,” Ivy doesn’t look away from the microscope, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

She’s not mad. Not at Harley, anyway. None of this is her fault. She’s just—

Listen. Figuring out exactly what to call what she’s feeling would require introspection, and we’re not doing that anymore.

“Oh. I uh—“ There’s something in Harley’s tone that twists uncomfortably in Ivy’s chest. “Wanted to talk?”

Ivy doesn’t want to talk. Talking, as it turns out, may be the very last thing she wants to do. But there’s that something in Harley’s voice. Something that sounds a bit like embarrassment. Like shame, even. Like maybe if Ivy were to listen in on Harley’s inner monologue right now the voice in there would sound suspiciously like him calling her a fuck-up and an idiot and—

“I’m sorry.” Ivy leaves the little plant’s cell to enter mitosis in its own time and turns to fully focus on Harley. “I didn’t mean to snap. You just startled me.”

Harley visibly relaxes. Ivy decides she hates him just that much more than she did ten seconds ago.

“Didn’t mean to startle ya,” Harley leaves her bat propped against the trunk of a giant nightshade and takes a few steps towards Ivy.

Normally, Harley has no concept of personal space. She sits on whatever surface is closest to Ivy, invading her space and making it impossible for her to fully focus on anything that’s not Harley. It should be annoying, but it isn’t, for reasons Ivy is absolutely not going to consider at this time.

This time, however, Harley hovers just a step or two away from Ivy and her microscope and her standing desk.

It feels…

It feels wrong.

“What did you want to talk about?” Ivy taps the desk and tries not to smile when Harley beams as she practically bounces to sit on it. Her legs dangle over the edge, well-worn combat boots lightly bumping against Ivy’s legs with each soft swing of Harley’s feet.

Nothing really feels wrong anymore.

“I’m sorry, Pammy.”

Ivy shakes her head. “It’s fine. You know you’re always welcome here, I just wasn’t expecting—“

“No,” Harley says, and when Ivy looks into her eyes she realizes Harley’s not going to let her pretend she has no idea what this is about, “I mean I’m sorry about the other night.”

Ivy stands up a little straighter. Takes half a step back, like that’s going to help. Crosses her arms over her chest.

“It’s fine.”

Harley tilts her head just so, bright blue eyes narrowing for a second, and Ivy sees a flash of Harleen right there staring back at her. Reading her fucking thoughts, almost. It’s unnerving.

“It’s fine, Harley,” Ivy insists, tone sharper as she takes another step back. She can hear the low rumble of every vine in her lab stirring along with her mood.

There’s a moment there, maybe a few seconds long, where they both simply stare at each other in silence. Like they’re trying to figure each other out in a way that feels completely foreign because she knows Harley, and Harley knows her, and there’s nothing to figure out. Nothing at all.

“You know—“ Harley’s voice sounds a bit brittle, like it may just break if it hits the wrong word, “you know I didn’t mean it, Pammy.”

Ivy nods. Once.

“I know.” She knows now and she knew when she first met Harley and she’s known for the last however many years it’s been. She fucking knows it’s love but it’s not love like that. She knows. “It’s fine.”

“You know Selina just got in my head, right?” Harley keeps talking, and on some level Ivy knows there’s nothing to be angry about because Harley just wants to explain. She just wants to make sure things aren’t weird between them because they’re best friends. But it feels almost cruel anyway. “You know I don’t—“

“I know you don’t love me, Harley, yes, for fuck’s sakes, I’m not an idiot.”

“But I—“

“Don’t.” Ivy holds one finger up. If she has to listen to Harley say she loves her, but just not in that way she may lose her fucking mind. “It’s fine.”

For a few blessed seconds, it feels like maybe Harley will let it go. Like maybe she’ll just drop it and let Ivy get out of this with some semblance of pride.

But that would just be too much to ask, wouldn’t it?

“I do love you, Ive, it’s just—“

“Holy shit, Harley!” Ivy raises her voice and hears the tell-tale creak of vines growing up the wall. “I know! I fucking know, all right? Selina is a dick and you thought margarita mix was a love potion and you’re not fucking in love with me, all right? I know!”

“But—“

“No! No fucking but!” Ivy swears she hears it. The little snap when she loses her last thread of control over what she’s saying and things spill out before she has a chance to filter them. “I don’t love you either, have you even considered that?”

Harley’s eyes widen in the purest expression of surprise Ivy’s ever seen in her life.

“Right!” There’s a part of Ivy that wants to stop. She wants to stop and backtrack and tell Harley she didn’t mean it because she can’t stand the thought of hurting her, and she needs her to know that of course — of course — Ivy loves her. But she just can’t right now. “I’m not secretly in love with you! All right? I’m glad you don’t love me. I’m fucking fine.”

Harley opens her mouth like she’s about to speak, but closes it without making a sound. She doesn’t look hurt, necessarily. She looks… she looks disarmed, almost. Like she doesn’t know how to react.

“I’ll just—“ Harley swallows and jumps off the desk. “We’re fine, so I’ll just leave. Yeah?”

Ivy nods. “Fine.”

“Cool. Yeah.” Harley sort of smiles, but not really. She moves a bit slower than usual as she goes back to her bat and walks towards the door, and there’s a part of Ivy that wants to stop her and fix this somehow — because it’s not fine at all — but self-preservation wins in the end.

“Remember to lock the door on your way out.”

For a second, Harley almost looks like she may say something. And for a second, Ivy almost hopes she will. But Harley just nods and walks out, and when she hears the lock snap into place, Ivy knows she’s all alone with her plants.

Right where she belongs.

[ashthewaterghoul]

“What if Qui-Gon Survived”

Chapter 6

That night Anakin was standing on the balcony, staring into the city, while Qui-Gon watched him.

“You look tired.” He said.

“I don’t sleep well anymore.” Anakin said.

“Because of your mother?”

Anakin nodded and hung his head “I don’t know why I keep dreaming about her.”

Obi-Wan walked around the corner “Dreams pass in time.”

“But they shouldn’t be ignored, especially if they are visions of the future or the present.” Qui-Gon said.

“I’d much rather dream about Padmé. Just being around her again is… intoxicating.”

“Be mindful of your thoughts, Anakin. You’ve made a commitment to the Jedi order, a commitment not easily broken.” Qui-Gon warned.

“And don’t forget she’s a politician, and they’re not to be trusted.” Obi-Wan added.

“She’s not like the others in the senate, Obi-Wan.”

“It is in my experience that senators focus only on those who fund their campaigns, and they’re in no means scared of forgetting the niceties of democracy in order to get those funds.” Obi-Wan stated.

“You’re generalizing. The chancellor doesn’t appear to be corrupt.” Anakin said.

“Palpatine is a politician. I have observed that he is very clever in following the passions and the prejudices of the senators.” Obi-Wan said.

“I think he’s a good man. My-” Anakin said, but sensed something and looked to the corridor that leads to the bedroom.

“I sense it too!” Qui-Gon said. The three ran into the room and Anakin quickly spotted the worms that were crawling on Padmé’s body. He jumped onto the bed and cut them in half with deadly precision as not to hurt Padmé. Obi-Wan noticed the droid floating by the window and jumped through after it.

“Anakin! Quick!” Qui-Gon said. Anakin quickly turned to Padmé and said “Stay here!” and ran out of the apartment to a platform where speeders were parked. Anakin quickly scanned for the best one for this operation “Master, that one!” he pointed to an open roofed, 4 seat, black speeder. The two climbed in and Qui-Gon told Anakin where to go, using the Force to locate his old Padawan.

Obi-Wan had successfully held onto the droid for a long time, hoping it would return to it’s master. However, his plan failed when the droid was shot down. He started to fall, hoping that Qui-Gon and Anakin would get to him in time. He saw a speeder flying through the lanes like they didn’t exist and he knew that it must be Anakin. Anakin saw him and flew upwards to meet him. He lined it up and Obi-Wan fell onto the back on the speeder and climbed into the back seat.

“What took you so long?” He asked.

“Oh, you know. I couldn’t find a speeder that I really liked,”

“There he is.” Obi- Wan said pointing to a yellow speeder further in front on them.

“With the open cockpit and the right speed capabilities.”

“If you spent as much time practising your saber techniques as you did your wit, you would rival Master Yoda as a swordsman.” Obi-Wan said.

“I thought I already did.” Anakin replied.

“Focus on your task, my very young apprentice.” Qui-Gon said.

Anakin plunged the speeder downwards. Obi-Wan was getting increasingly worried.

“Pull up, Anakin. Pull up!”

Anakin was laughing at his friend’s worry. When he finally did, Obi-Wan said “You know I don’t like it when you do that.”

“Sorry, Obi-Wan. I forgot you don’t like flying.”

“I don’t mind flying but what you’re doing is suicide!”

They followed the assassin to the industrial sector, and he reached a blaster out of the window to shoot the power couplings which promptly exploded as the Jedi went through.

“Anakin! How many times have I told you to stay away from power couplings!” Qui-Gon shouted. After the electricity passed, Obi-Wan once again showed his sarcastic self, “That was good!” he said. The speeder swerved to the side, but Anakin didn’t follow it and carried on.

“Where are you going? He went that way.” Qui-Gon said.

“Master, if we keep this chase going any longer, that creep is gonna end up deep-fried, and, personally, I’d very much like to find out who he is and who he’s working for.” He replied “This is a shortcut. I think.”

The shortcut followed to another part of Coruscant, where the speeder was nowhere to be seen

“Well, you’ve lost him.” Qui-Gon said, usually Anakin’s skill behind the controls was impeccable but maybe his stress for Padmé clouded his vision.

“I’m deeply sorry, Master.” Anakin said.

“That was some shortcut, Anakin.” Obi-Wan piped up “He went completely the other way. Once again you’ve proved-”

“If you’ll excuse me.” Anakin said while jumping over the side of the speeder.

“I hate it when he does that.” Obi-Wan said.

“But it is an extremely useful skill of his. Come on!” Qui-Gon said as Obi-Wan climbed to the driver’s seat.

Anakin landed on the top of the yellow speeder, barely gripping onto the polished metal. He was flung all over the speeder before he was where he wanted to be, right on top of the cockpit. He grabbed his lightsaber and ignited it through the roof. He waved it around, hoping to fry some of the controls. As the bounty hunter started shooting up towards him, he frantically hurled his body over to side and lost grip of his saber. It flew through the sky until his Master caught it. He noticed the hole he made in the roof was large enough for his hand. He reached in and grabbed the blaster and shot the controls on the dashboard. The speeder started to spin wildly out of control. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were visibly concerned for Anakin, hoping he wouldn’t fly into the streets of Coruscant. Anakin jumped off while he was a few meters off the ground and crashed into some crates. He ached but needed to catch the assassin that tried to kill Padmé. He saw them get out of the wreck on pushed past many people to get to them.

Obi-Wan spun the speeder around to get to Anakin. He found a spot close to the wreck and could sense Anakin was close. The two jumped out and ran to where they could see Anakin trying to get into the cantina.

“Anakin!” Qui-Gon said.

“She went into the club, Master!” He replied.

“Patience. Use the force. Think.” Qui-Gon told him.

“Sorry, Master.”

“He went in there to hide, not to run.”

“Yes, Master.”

Qui-Gon handed him his lightsaber.

“Next time, try not to lose it.” He said.

“Yes, Master.”

“That weapon is your life.” Obi-Wan said

“I try.”

The three walk in to the busy club, spotting the assassin is going to be difficult.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re going to be the death of me?” Qui-Gon joked.

“Don’t say that, Master. You’re the closest thing I have to father.” Anakin replied.

“Then why don’t you listen to me?” He asked.

“I am trying.”

They stand in the entrance way looking around.

“Can you see him?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I think he is a she,” Anakin said “and I think she is a changeling.”

“In that case, be extra careful.” Qui-Gon said “You two, go and find her.”

“Where are you going, Master?” Anakin asked.

“For a drink.”

The three split up and Qui-Gon goes to the bar, he puts his credits down and thanks the bartender. A man comes up to his side offering some sort of product.

“Do you wanna buy some death sticks?”

Qui-Gon waved his hand “You don’t want to sell me death sticks.”

“I don’t want to sell you death sticks.” He repeated.

“You want to go home and rethink your life.”

“I want to go home and rethink my life.” He said as he leaves.

Anakin and Obi-Wan look frantically for their killer but to no prevail. Qui-Gon was looking around but sensed someone tense behind him, the killer they were looking for. He let her come closer, letting her think she had the upper hand. At the last minute he turned around ignited his saber and sliced her weapon in half. Anakin and Obi-Wan hurried to Qui-Gon. The bar was full of prying eyes that they couldn’t be dealing with.

“Easy,” Anakin announced “Jedi business. Go back to your drinks.”

They walked her outside to a back alley.

“Do you know who it was you were trying to kill?” Qui-Gon pried.

“It was a senator from Naboo.” She replied.

“And who hired you?” Obi-Wan added.

“It was just a job.”

“Who hired you? Tell us.” Anakin said.

No reply.

“Tell us now!” Anakin shouted.

“Anakin!” Qui-Gon replies, trying to keep his padawan in line.

She started to say “It was a bounty hunter called-” she stopped talking as something flew into her neck. “Wee shahnit…sleemo!” she cursed before falling to the ground, dead. Obi-Wan looked behind him to see someone in silver and blue Mandalorian armour taking off. Guess that was the employer then. He noticed the dart and picked up.

“Toxic dart.” Qui-Gon said.

Here’s a really long chapter, hope it wasn’t boring. I tried to condense the chase as much as I could but still keep it interesting, if that makes sense. Please interact with my posts as much as you can and please give me feedback on suggestions for future fics! You can also follow me on Instagram if you want @siriusly_a_jedi. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

View all chapters here

[jjkpls]

crayons ‘hana’ (PG)

> genre : fluffy fluff, light angst, comedy

> pairing : kim namjoon x reader

> words : 4.5k

> warnings : none (except a rusty quill)

> Y/N, a primary school teacher, is way too soft for the quiet, timid new child in her class. Little did she know, the adult version, who engendered this cutie, is even more charming.

> next

**words in italics are spoken in Korean

It's a grey day.

The Sun is acting up. As if It had been vexed deeply and now, no matter how loud the kids are calling after It, It just won't budge. Hidden behind the thick clouds, not hinting a tiny ray through the heavy shower, It won't show the tip of Its nose today, you have no doubt about that.

It takes some time to persuade the kids of that fact though.

The better half of recess is spent arguing, they just won't admit that for today, the break will be taken in class. It renders most of them gloomy, unable to accept the harsh reality, even if they've lived before -back in the beginning, when you were still too lenient, letting yourself drag into endless quarrel leading to stupid and quite irresponsible compromises- the traumatizing experience of standing in the middle of a storm. You still remember the awful concert of cries and the race to pick every kid somehow induced in a panic paralysis, one under each arm, to bring them to safety in urgency -thank god, Jeon Jungkook had been there, with his stature, able to stack up five of them at the same time, incredibly useful, pretty much life-saving. What you remember even better is the severe scolding you received from the principal, who thought -as you should have- that no matter how bad the children insisted, they shouldn't be playing outside in the rain.

You knew that. They just wouldn't believe you and you thought that, maybe, they just needed practical proof. No harm was supposed to be engendered. And quite frankly, none occurred. Children sometimes just enjoy being dramatic and it was the perfect, quintessential occasion to do so, especially if the principle is in earshot -which she was.

In any case, you learned your lesson. However, they did not.

Charlotte, standing on her pretty polished pearl white shoes -that you know, for a fact, that you'll get in trouble if her mother comes to pick her up to find them ruined by the terrible weather-, chin up high, hands tucked to her side, won't stop arguing with you as the main spokesgirl for the class. Apparently, it's “unfair”.

And it is unfair. Weather is not meant to be fair and you have not a single take on it. Try to explain that to a five-year-old.

“Ok, everyone, listen up!” Everyone's little heads swing forward like those car bobbleheads, wide eyes ogling you with burning impatience and clear, obnoxious delusion. They're all waiting, expecting you to open the door and let them free into the wild. “Let's make a deal, alright? Who wants to make a deal?” And everyone, even if they, for the most part, have no clue what's going on, wants to -except for Charlotte who's eyeing you with a suspicious glare and for Jimmy who's hiding in the corner, a sad scowl on his face. “You know that I don't have any power over the rain. But I do have powers over how long recess will last.” You act smug as you say that, their little impressed faces adding to the effect. It becomes painful to conceal the giggles blooming in your chest. “Since you already wasted half of your time, I have a proposition for you. You'll stay twice as long on break, meaning until it's 3:45,” You explain, pointing on the big clock hovering your desk where the long hand will be standing when the break ends. “if you can stay calm in class, ok?”

The announcement sends them in a fury, the simple idea of having a longer break overwhelming them with hysterical joy. So much for staying calm and collected.

Fortunately enough, I've been gifted with overall sweet children. It doesn't require more than a collecting "shh" and a reminder of the term of the bargain for them to quietly divert into groups, colonizing different lots of the classroom. Some ask for books, for paints or crayons, for the plushies and the toys they brought along to school -even though they're not allowed to- and a tranquil atmosphere rises and sets itself upon the room.

It's very nice, even for you. Sitting at your desk, watching over them with a distracted eye, you wonder if you'd be allowed to spend the rest of the day like so. They're talking, laughing and creating, sharing, being kind to each other and this whole ambience, slower than usual, calmer, more peaceful seem greatly beneficial for them. They don't feel any kind of pressure from having to learn, having to follow a predesigned, normative rhythm. It's pleasant and healthier than usual. Even if you try your best, constantly, to render every single day as filled with positivity through the required productivity as you can, you can't help sometimes stress and tension from blooming. It suffices one Kevin to come to class, sleepy and upset from a bad night, triggering a Charlotte who ends up scowling and nagging at everyone all day, and then everyone is in a terrible mood. Exercises are a pain to go through. Keeping their attention on you a quasi impossible challenge to overcome. Bringing their spirits up an unreachable, delusional aspiration.

But here and now, spending their time and energy on what they want with their chosen friends, in the comfortable warmth of the safe classroom, with the rain gently drumming on the windows, you can sense peace and joy and it fills your heart with content to the brim, or, almost to the brim.

Your heart could be spilling out with joy if it wasn't for this one, tiny pout adorning one tiny chubby face. Jimmy hasn't budged much from earlier. He had to leave his own desk to relocate at the very end of the room because a few girls decided to set up their library on the adjacent table.

His posture is the same though. Sitting quietly, his back pressed into the corner, hands tucked together against his belly, his big dark eyes are observing his classmates attentively. You read fear but also curiosity that's eaten up by something else, maybe sadness. It's a heartbreaking sight you're unfortunately too used to witness.

Jimmy arrived two months after everyone else. You don't know much about him. Because you haven't had the occasion to meet his parents yet, but mostly because he hasn't spoken a word since his arrival. His pouty mouth, shaped like an adorable button, hasn't opened once. Not even that one time you tried to have him participate and had him tearing up and crying, overwhelmed as he felt under the attention. He just sat silently, eyes drawn downwards, munching on the inside of his cheek, while tears ran down his round cheeks while all the other kids watched, as bewildered as you.

You almost quit your job that day. Certain you were not cut for it, somehow, finding out only now, at 26 years old, that you were a horrible, cruel person and your vocation and higher call were just all a blatant lie.

It doesn’t come as a surprise that today, once again, he’s hiding in his corner. You've tried a few things before. You didn’t just watch, waiting on time to operate and break his thick shell on its own. You've consulted the principal, colleagues, the internet. You've looked for clues, for tricks and after having tried quite a few, with little to no success at all -you've made him look up to your eyes, a thing he had been incapable of before-, you've decided to lay off a bit of that zeal.

You were getting too invested, even as this child’s teacher and you knew it wasn’t a good idea to pursue. As for him, you didn’t want to harm him in any way. No matter the benevolence and kindness and softness you put in every single one of your interaction, you thought, he seems so wounded already, you could break him, without meaning to, by simply trying too hard to smother his hostile edges.

You calmed down.

It tastes like defeat, coating a heavy layer in your throat, it never ceases to remind itself to you each time your eyes fall upon the sad pout and curious eyes. 

Today is no different.

Everything would be perfect if only, for once, he could mingle with his peers and if you could, for the first time, see the shades of his smile. If he even knows how to smile. 

Rising from your chair, you pick up a few pencils from your personal collection -the precious ones, unbitten at the top, unbroken at the tip, tall and seemingly unused. You don’t ever lend those to the kids as you know they’re not mature enough, and they won’t be for a long time to come, to care for your stuff the way those crayons need to be cared for-, a few white sheets and a sharpener and quietly make your way to him. He catches you and your intention from afar, his gaze fixed on you as you get closer.

He doesn’t utter a word, nor adumbrate a movement as you crouch next to him, soft smile, soft gestures. It’s a bit hurtful to think about it this way but it’s like approaching a wild tiny, tiny helpless creature -you're terrified to see it flee away.

“Hey Jimmy,” You say kindly, ignoring pointedly Charlotte who’s watching you (you can see her from the corner of your eyes) so that she knows to not interrupt or try to interfere in any way. “Would you like to draw a little?” You lay the material in front of him. His whole attention is offered to you and while you're glad you’ve reached that point where he can actually look at you, you can not help but wish he’d look away as his heavy stare suddenly makes you feel anxious. “Those are my personal crayons. I’m sure I can trust you to take care of them well, right?” He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t blink, doesn’t smile. You're not sure if he’ll even pick one of them up. You know he won't in front of you anyway and not wanting him to feel cornered and pressured, after another sugary sweet smile, you wave him goodbye and let him be.

The afternoon goes on, calmer than usual. It's as if they were brought to a state of peace so deep, they're now willing to accept any unfairness the world has in store for them. When the school bell rings, the children quickly run to the racks, grabbing their coats and little bags. A few of them start piling up at your feet, whining for the teddies and toys and lip balms they brought to school this morning and that you had to hold hostage as they are not supposed to bring them to school.

“Could we have another recess like today, miss? Tomorrow?” You see the shimmery eyes, the pressing pouts and impatient wiggling of the butts, waiting as patiently as they can for an answer. You're glad they had a good time today, still, a part of you can't help but regret it all. That part, conscious from the start, of how it'll all come back to bite you in the arse. No matter how cute they are, those little monsters always end up munching your arm up to the shoulder if you only do as much as tend an open hand their way.

“We'll see.” You say, waving them off. You don't mean to be so misleading but there's no way you're sending those kids home crying hysterically because they haven't heard the answer they were looking for.

Quickly they're all out of the class, seen outside to their carers by Adrianne, the lovely woman who helps out you, along with all the other teachers, with the kids every day.

There's only you and a little mess that you're able to tidy out quickly. In the corner, lay the little pile of papers and the crayons that had been obviously unused. Your heart squeezes briefly uncomfortably but you were not expecting any different from him. Since he arrived, two months ago, Jimmy has only drawn or traced letters or painted or built anything when the rest of his classmates were doing it too. You assume it's because he feels like he can't refuse to do something everyone else is doing. When it's just about him, when it doesn't concern directly the course, when it's just for pure personal entertainment, he simply would not do it.

You notice something. If he didn't draw anything on the sheets, he touched the crayons. They're piled very neatly, all tips turned the same way, one next to the other on top of the papers. What a sweetheart.

What a lovely, lovely kid.

It sends a rush of hope and determination back into your heart. You're not utterly desperate. It might take time. Maybe you won't be able to make significant progress until the very end of the year, when you'll have to say goodbye to him once he changes classes, but you don't despair to reach him, eventually.

And maybe that's all the universe needed -the conviction that you're not holding into this kid in pure vain- to offer you a generous little push. The magical manifestation comes in the form of Jimmy himself, escorted by Adrianne whose hand hovers few centimetres atop of his dark mop of hair, standing in the doorway, eyes drawn to the ground as if he's in trouble.

“Jimmy's father is running late and I-” She winces a little, grimace accentuating the lines carved on her face around her easy smile.

“You want to ask me something, don't you?” You tease knowingly. She looks embarrassed until she catches your wink, understanding she's probably fine to ask you anything.

“It's Felicia's birthday and I promised I'll be home early...”

You have to contain yourself, to not sound as ecstatic as you feel, to not drop to the ground, hands held high in gratitude towards the sky, settling for a simple: “Okay, I'll stay with him.”

“Are you sure?” She asks because she's nice and considerate but she's already turned her body towards the hallway. It doesn't take much more convincing to have her disappear.

It's only Jimmy and you now.

You're giddy but anxious. He doesn't even raise his head once she's gone. He just stands there, little raspberries tinting his cheeks and you're filled with a fondness tightly intertwined with sadness because he shouldn't look this guilty when he's done absolutely nothing wrong.

“Come have a seat.” His black eyes raise high enough for a split second, just to see where your hand is patting before quietly, he makes his way to the chair adjacent to yours. You've laid the papers and the crayons you'd picked up from the ground, an idea had come to you. There's no chance you'll have him draw something for you but you could draw for him.

You don't know if it'll have the same effect as it does on the other children. It's this special, unique teacher power that turns every single one of your shitty doodles, gifted to one of them, into a priceless, beautiful gift. It's the funniest thing and one of your favourites. The feeling is like the one you get when they fight and have to make serious arguments and deals to decide who will be the lucky one to hold the teacher's hand today.

Surely it's ridiculous but it does flat your ego grandiosely.

You're not expecting this kind of reaction from Jimmy, you'd just like to create some sort of contact, an interaction. Staring down at the white sheet, you're left speechless, nervous. It's been a while since you've sat in front of one of those, with no clear indication of what you were supposed to lay on it. Quite frankly, your crayons you only use to grade. The feeling is terrifying and you realise, gulping, that you didn't miss it. Maybe that feeling is the reason why he didn't pick up a pencil to draw himself. Was he filled with the same irrational paralysis that comes with the fear of the unknown?

“I'm not really good at drawing, to be honest with you... Do you like cats, Jimmy?” His big eyes watch you carefully. No answer. He simply munches on his lips, waiting for you to fill in the silence. “You probably do. Or, I hope you do because cats are what I draw best. Let's see.” You mumble, picking up a blue pencil to start -another consequence of the unusual anxiety you're feeling, suddenly picturing cats being blue.

It takes him a hot minute to open up the slightest. Actually, it takes about half an hour. Half an hour of you talking on your own, making conversation for the both of you; of you struggling to draw the cat you were certain you knew how to draw; of stopping every now and then to go over the basic body shape of a cat. It starts in the form of him snorting discreetly -you almost miss it- when you almost curse, fishing your cellphone out of your back pocket to look for the ugliest but easiest drawing of a cat you can find online for reference, tired of erasing and redoing the same damn curve of the cat's neck and messing up each time. It continues with him accepting to chose the next colour for what you keep calling “our cat”. He picks a deep purple for the back of the kitty, a bright yellow for the paws and apple green for the eyes. It's kind of funny looking but in a way you've done it together and your heart is filled to the brim with happiness. When it's done, sort of, you're ready to grab a new paper, hoping that maybe, on this one, he'll feel comfortable enough to grab a pencil himself and leave an actual mark on his own but the universe taps gently but firmly on the tip of your fingers, reminding you to be thankful for what happened today but not to be too greedy.

It's the tall and dishevelled man, stumbling loudly through the door that interrupts and determine the end of today's progress. Jimmy raises on his seat on reflex, running into the man's -you assume to be his father- legs. The man seems a bit uneasy, with his trench coat poorly buttoned, his dark hair messy with a thick strand sticking up to the roof, forehead crossed with worrisome lines. He reaches for the little boy, carrying him up to his chest, smacking a big kiss on his forehead; Jimmy's short arms are reaching far, far away, wrapping as much as he can around his father's neck and the previous wrinkles simply fade away.

“I'm so terribly sorry!” He apologizes, voice remarkably low, sounding lovely somehow even through the tension straining it. “I had this meeting that just lasted forever, I'm so, so sorry. It won't happen again.”

“No it's totally fine, don't worry about it!” You might be screaming a little bit because the big, impressively built man is now bowing with Jimmy draped around him like a koala and you feel so embarrassed because 1) no one has ever bowed to you, 2) you sincerely didn't mind staying a little bit later (especially given it happens more often than not) and 3) you were glad, you feel fortunate for the chance you just had to spend more time with Jimmy and see a spark of something you've never seen before. The reason you made a good improvement, you believe, is because the circumstances were favourable. Having a class filled with twenty-five other rambunctious kids that require great attention, at all time, doesn't, ever, allow you to bond with the boy. “Please don't, it's fine.” You insist, forcing him with wide gestures to stand up straight again. “Jimmy is one of the sweetest kids of my class, honestly, it was no bother.”

The dark eyes, perfect imitations of the ones Jimmy carries, display a lovely glint at my comment. He attempts to look at his son who’s snuggling in the crook of his neck, smiling softly.

“Is that right, Jiminie? My good boy.”

Jiminie. Without knowing what he says, the sonority of his words sounds so gentle and lovely, you can tell why the boy turns all sheepish.

There's a loud kiss pressed to his cheek and you can hear a high giggle, shy but sweet, as Jimmy squirms a bit in his dad's arms, pressing a hand to his ear. The scene is so, so adorable, you would cry if only you were not too worried to give off a terrible portray of an unbalanced and ugly-crier of a teacher to this father.

Father that you’re meeting for the first time.

And this fact, lost in the middle of a storm of agitated thoughts, manages to find his way to the surface after a little while of just awkwardly standing there, not really knowing what to say.

“Mr Kim, actually, I'm glad you're here. I meant to- meet and maybe have a little conversation with you, I don't know if Adrianne told you-”

“Yes, yes, she did. Of course. I apologize, I was supposed to get back to her with a date but work has been pretty- hectic. I've just changed job and-” You nod, genuinely understanding. If you don't know much about this man, nor this family in general, you can tell from the layers of fatigue that even the tender smiles he generously grants his son can't diminish, that he's not having the best of times. “It's not that- I don't want you to believe that I'm not invested in my son's education, it's really not the case-”

“Oh no, I don't believe that!” Quite frankly, you'd say that to any parents that come to you with these kinds of doubts, it's probably the worst thing you can do to a parent to criticize their parenting, their love, especially when you know from experience than most, even the ones that mess up and scar, don't commonly mean to. Parents are just adults and adults are just humans. Trying to figure shit out and actually not knowing jack shit about much. As a teacher, of children that young too, you owe to help them turn their progeny into the best versions they can be, as a team.

But this dad, standing there, distress and something akin sadness shading so much of his face, there's so little room for softness, a hand tenderly massaging the back of his boy's hair, you have no doubt, whatsoever, that it's not the case. That he tries and probably struggles, with whatever their circumstances are, but means the best. “I really don't. It's just I'd really like- I mean, I need, to have a little meeting with you. I receive every parent at the beginning of each year, it's important for me to understand better the child...” You would point out that in Jimmy's case, it's absolutely necessary given his behaviour but you don't want to say it in front of him. You've been reassured before by the principle that you weren't to worry too much. Jimmy was not, in any case, in any kind of danger at home, she had made sure of that after you first came to her with your concerns.

It's supposed to be a case of extreme timidity. It's confusing. Still, you were ready to accept this as the plain simple explanation if only you could talk to his father, have him confirm it and validate with your own personal impression. “I understand that you're working and don't have much time to yourself and that it's a bit- I mean, even as adults, no one likes to have to attend a teacher's meeting,” Only the corner of his lips twitch a little, yet you gladly accept it as a win. “Would it be possible for you to make just a little slot in your schedule for me? I won't take too long, twenty minutes at most? Whenever you can! Before class if you want or after, in the evening, sometimes I'm still here until 7. Or at lunch! Absolutely whenever is good for you.”

“That's very kind.” Is all he says.

You don't know what to say to that. You're not sure he is right. You are especially invested in your work and your pupils. You've been told before that, maybe, you should lay off a bit -you're told each time you cry at the end of a school year, thinking about all the faces you adore but won't be seeing every day anymore. But most teachers are, you want to believe. Min Yoongi, from first grade, wouldn't be as generous with his time, that's for sure. He'd probably come up with a date that'd fit his agenda and if possible inconvenience the most the parents' schedule and demand that they do make the time and be present, guilty-trip them if they seem reluctant. But that's just him, being a lazy cynical asshole. You want to believe he's an exception and any other teacher, in your shoes, would act the same way.

That being said, the way he's saying it, wide eyes sort of laced with a certain confusion, serves to thicken the compliment.

“Whenever is fine.” You repeat, lacking a direct response to his words. There's a tiny curious eye, picking from the collar of the trench coat, observing you attentively. You smile to Jimmy, picking up the drawing of the cat you've drawn earlier and handing it to him. “I'll let you off now, Jimmy is probably starving.”

After a few seconds of just staring at it, Jimmy sneaks a hand out to accept the drawing, face instantly burying further in the fabric of his dad's clothes, all shy and embarrassed.

“Thank you. Thank you very much for today and for any day really. I promise I'll make sure to meet you very soon.”

“Sure, perfect. Jimmy, see you tomorrow?”

“You say goodbye, Jiminie?”

He mutters something you don't quite catch, enshrouded as he is in the fabric adorning his dad, but his father and you decide that it's the answer you were waiting for. A wave and a stumble down the hall later -one that nearly gives you a heart attack as the prospect of the man actually eating shit with tiny Jimmy still in his arms hit you-, they're gone, out of the school and on to their way home you assume.

You're entirely alone now. Giddy as a school girl overly excited about something mundane that doesn't require this type of enthusiasm. You're not precisely sure why. It's a storm. Again. An overwhelming storm of emotions. In the mix of it all, you can decipher the loud, brilliant thoughts regarding the tiny shy little boy, and a future brighter than the one you used to picture for him. One where he's not scared of everyone, where you can hear his voice and see him giggle without his dad for him to hide behind. And something else.

You're not sure.

You don't suck at your job, you decide, as you think back about the adorable chubby finger pointing shyly at the crayons he wanted you to use.

A/N : as always, a lot of love send your way, thanks so much for reading, i hope you enjoy it :)

[amphtaminedreams]

The Women of Euphoria and Personal Style: Lookbook no.8

Hi to anyone reading,

I hope you’re well considering everything going on! It feels weird to want to talk about fashion or TV shows or red carpets or whatever when 90% of my Google searches are COVID-19 related but there you go. It’s all about trying to power through as normal (minus the social interaction) and pretend the world isn’t ending, right? Queue nervous laughter.

And as if things aren't shitty enough, production of season 2 of Euphoria has been postponed until further notice. 

Okay, in the grand scheme of things, having to wait a bit longer for a TV show isn’t catastrophic but it does just about sum up the transition from 2019 to 2020 thus far that after HBO redeemed itself by broadcasting Euphoria in the summer following an ending to Game of Thrones that has made the whole series unrewatchable, the glimmer of hope in me reignited by the prospect of series 2 this year has been quickly dashed. 2021, I’m rooting for you, because it doesn’t seem like things are getting better any time soon, and in all seriousness, I think everyone needs a break from the collective suffering of the last few months.

For me (and undoubtedly for many others if the hundreds of makeup looks and styling videos are anything to go by), Euphoria’s effect on the world of fashion and beauty is unprecedented. I really can’t recall a TV show in living memory that has had as much of an impact on the way young people dress. I mean, this might partially be because the style of the characters already kind of caters to and draws from the target audience but also, aside from Blair Waldorf did anybody really give THAT much of a fuck about what anybody in Gossip Girl wore?

The draw of the styling on Euphoria is that it has something for everyone. The style of each of the main girls, Rue, Kat, Maddy, Jules and Cassie, all of whom I’ve attempted (emphasis on attempted!) to base (emphasis on base!) outfits around, is varied and distinctive but still so current and realistic at the same time. It’s also consistent; even if you don’t own the specific pieces worn by any of them, similar shapes and details reoccur enough in different looks throughout the series that it’s not hard to create an outfit which matches your favourite character’s overall vibe without buying anything new. That’s kinda what I have attempted to do here and without further ado, I’m gonna get on with it! First up:

Jules (Played by Hunter Schafer)

When it comes to whose style is the most experimental, Jules is the obvious answer. A lot of her outfits are what I imagine a cartoonist in the near-distant future will envision their cool girl protagonist wearing. Whilst her ensembles are generally whimsical and girly for the most part, there’s usually a few slightly punk-ish finishing touches thrown in there too be it through chunky shoes or bold makeup or that incredible mesh trench coat she wears in the series finale with the trans symbol on the back which, honestly, deserves a moment of silence. 

There are definitely nods to current fashion trends sprinkled throughout her wardrobe too. I'm not going to lie, despite someone at work seemingly thinking it was an insult to tell me I look like someone who does (I still don’t know but this person has a Rick and Morty keyring so I don’t give it too much weight), I’ve never watched any anime. BUT, that being said, given the abundance of anime screenshots posted by all these aesthetic oriented Instagram and Tumblr moodboard accounts, I have a vague idea of what some of the more iconic characters look like and a lot of Jules’ looks seem to be very much modelled after or at least inspired by them. In a way, I see a lot of her looks as a blend between modern “e-girl”, Y2K skater chick (yes, I’m thinking early Avril Lavigne), and 2013 Tumblr “hipster” a la 2014 Joanna Kutcha and Charlie Barker, and though on paper that sounds like a nightmare combination, it works. I know-if that sentence were a Depop description I would’ve just gained 30 followers.

When it comes to my own interpretation of Jules’ style, it’s definitely something I like to channel when I’m putting together a proper OUTFIT outfit. Meaning an outfit I actually put effort into and thus will most likely want to get a good photo in, lol. The way her character dresses is almost quite Christopher Kane in that it’s fresh and unusual but still understated enough that I wouldn’t walk into a room wearing any of these feeling like I’m doing a Rick Owens runway.

I’m not TOO far out of my comfort zone but still at the same time, I’d be trying something new and maybe a little bit more zany than I'm used to. As for noting where any of these pieces are from, only a few have been bought in the last 6 months, but from left to right clockwise I have marked out those that have in case they’re still available (though be wary of the fact that it seems a lot of online clothes stores are still forcing warehouse employees to work in close confines at the moment and so perhaps aren’t operating the most ethically):

LOOK 1

Corset-Jaded London

Shoes-TK Maxx

LOOK 2

Dress-Motel Rocks

Boots-Koi Vegan Footwear

LOOK 3

Dress-Jaded London

LOOK 4

Dress-Jaded London

Beret-Ebay

LOOK 5

Beret-Ebay

LOOK 6

Mesh Top-Depop

Hair Clips-Urban Outfitters

Kat (Played by Barbie Ferreira) 

Eurgh, Kat. 

I LOVE THIS BITCH.

If I had to choose my favourite character in the show, it would be a very close toss-up between her and Rue, and though I think Rue might just about nab the top spot for her relatability factor, Kat is the girl I want to be or wish that I had been when I was at school. I mean, there’s definitely an argument to be made in that a lot of what she’s doing with her cam work could be seen as a means of validation (Sam Levinson has basically said everyone on the show has some kind of an unhealthy coping mechanism and I would guess due to the circumstances in which her cam girl career was borne and the fact she’s underage, this would be hers) but I do think in other ways we really see Kat reclaim her power and recognise herself for the smart, capable, gorgeous woman that she is. Honestly, the definition of divine feminine energy, and I would completely let Barbie Ferreira/basically Kat if she was also actually 23 dominate me.

Plus! Her! Style! Is! The! Bomb! Definitely the easiest character to base looks around because if I’m totally honest Kat’s energy is pretty much just what I want to emulate in every day life. 

It’s either pieces that are typically feminine, cutesy, and even slightly preppy at times drenched in everything grunge OR vice versa where you have something semi-gothic and then add a colourful, more playful touch in there that harks back to the beginning of the series before Kat had began to explore her identity and sexuality and dressed slightly more Forever 21.

I’d say, not yet with my whole chest, that on a good day the outfits I put together when making an effort aren’t too far off something Kat would wear, minus the more overtly BDSM touches; if wearing a ring choker in London is enough to get me a creepy comment from a gross middle aged shopkeeper (because I apparently forfeited my right not to be perved on when I decided to buy a bottle of Oasis summer fruits), then you can only imagine the kind of looks wearing a full-on harness would get in my conservative OAP dominated hometown. Not the most doable right now, especially considering the only time I get out is to work and to go for a run. The chafing I could deal with but the horrified glares of pensioners whose M&S prawn mayo sandwiches I’ve ruined by simply being in their eyesight not so much.

LOOK 1-

Corset-Urban Outfitters

LOOK 2-

Bodysuit-Depop

Skirt-Zara

Harness-Ebay

LOOK 3-

Co-ord-Depop

Lace-up Corset-Missguided

LOOK 4-

Dress-Vintage

LOOK 5-

Belt-Ebay

LOOK 6-

Coat-Topshop

Dress-Jaded London

LOOK 7-

Fishnet Top-Ebay

Skirt-Urban Outfitters

Maddy (Played by Alexa Demie)

Not gonna lie, I was kind of scared to do Maddy. I’m scared to be posting this, lol! Alexa Demie has played this character for a single season and she’s already one of the most iconic women to grace our screens in years. This is a huge undertaking and I don’t have the bank balance or the body confidence (lmao) to raid IAmGia. 

And this is where I want to stress: THESE ARE NOT OUTFIT RECREATIONS. THESE ARE INSPIRED BY. I HAVE ADDED ELEMENTS OF MY OWN STYLE INTO THEM. PLEASE DON’T DRAG ME. I KNOW, I’M NOT ALEXA DEMIE. I WOULD NEVER ASSUME TO BE ALEXA DEMIE. I’M NOT ABOUT TO TAKE THE LORD’S NAME IN VAIN LIKE THAT. So now we’ve got that out the way (wipes bead of sweat off forehead), let’s continue. 

Everything about Maddy Perez is extra. She has very much been established as a centre of attention character, and her outfits are a key part of that. They’re daring, they’re hyper-feminine, and they are always glamorous. We’re told that she competed in beauty pageants when she was younger and it’s clear that level of excess and coordination and glitz and all-round-boujeeness wormed its way into her DNA during that time. Even the “depression” outfit she wears to school following Nate becoming violent at the fair is costume-like, a 2019 Bratz doll Off-White street style collaboration.

Do you know how HARD I had to try to be HOT!? For these photos. Alexa Demie is one of those blessed women who doesn’t have to try at all, and that translates into the character completely. At any given moment, Maddy could add or remove one item or clothing and be let straight into the VIP section of a club, and that, honestly, is inspiring to us all in these dark times. 

One thing I tried to keep in mind is that she always looks polished and coordinated, I.E the kind of look I would prepare for a night out is something Maddy would wear on an average day. Co-ords and delicate prints seem to be more subtle wardrobe staples along with mesh and PVC and glitter and feathers and fur and basically anything that toes the line between expensive looking and tacky. Yes, I am aware we may toe different sides of that line but please let me stay delusional and believe that’s not the case for 5 minutes. Much appreciated xoxo

LOOK 1-

Bodysuit-Jaded London

LOOK 2-

Bralette-Depop

LOOK 3-

Co-ord Suit-Boohoo

Bodysuit-Boohoo

LOOK 4-

Dress-Motel Rocks

Shoes-Schuh

LOOK 5-

Bodysuit-Zaful

Trousers-Depop

Coat-Topshop

LOOK 6-

Dress-Zaful

Belt-Zaful

LOOK 7-

Top-Jaded London

Hair Clips-H&M

Rue (Played by Zendaya Coleman)

I have a complicated relationship with Rue as a character. When I started season 1 of Euphoria, I was like “Oh my god, this girl is the worst. Jesus, she’s so negative and draining and willingly self-destructive and-”

Then, oh my god is this what it’s like to live with me!?

I will say, to my own credit, that I don’t think I've ever been quite as hard to deal with as Rue (a lot less smashing stuff up and a lot more moping), and to HER credit, by the end of the season we come to realise she’s been through a fucking lot and so it makes sense, but wow. I don’t think I have ever seen a teen show handle drug abuse and mental illness in such a brutal way. It’s quite a talent to be able to show a character cause so much pain to those closest to them and yet do so through a sympathetic lens. And issues aside, whether it’s her occasional social awkwardness or her relationship with her family or watching bloody Love Island (still quite surreal to see Zendaya Coleman witnessing the Amy/Curtis drama unfold), Rue is just my favourite character to follow. 

Her style, though. AH. The thing is, I can hardly drag it, because it’s pretty much what I wear when I’m moping about the house-or just any time I can get away with it to be honest-to a T. I want to stay true to character, but that being said, creating a “Seth Rogen”-esque outfit that’s worth posting on here is difficult. So, with the same kind of artistic license that had me wearing berets whilst cosplaying Maddy Perez, here is the best I could do:

I know, I know, it’s probably too much colour and jewellery for Rue but this is as toned down as I could do and I tried to stick with the key silhouettes we see from her throughout the season; I mean, I can’t see her wearing leopard print but the structure of the coat in outfit 1 is very similar to the one seen in Shook Ones pt.II. I think the bottom line when it comes to her character is keeping things effortless and not overly-feminine; you want to mix street style, athleisure and your dad’s wardrobe favourites like your life depends on it. Plus messy hair and smudged makeup, both of which I’ve already got down according to the completely inappropriate number of customers who’ve asked if I'm tired at work so thanks for that guys, and glitter tears. Lots and lots of glitter tears.

OUTFIT 1-

Dungarees-Vintage

OUTFIT 2-

Trousers-Depop

Cardigan-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 5-

Beanie-Depop

OUTFIT 6-

Shirt-Boohoo Man

Sports Bra-TK Maxx

Trousers-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 7-

Shirt-Jaded London

Cassie (Played by Sydney Sweeney)

Style-wise, Cassie is a hard one. When putting outfits for her character together, I found myself gravitating towards a direction that’s probably a bit too bohemian for her character, under the guidance of loose terms like “girl-next-door”, “floaty”, “delicate”, you get the idea. She definitely feels the least fully-realised in terms of all the main girls and I think it’s fair to say she’s probably got a bit of self-discovery to do. Most of her storylines in the season are dictated by her relationships to other people: McKay, Maddy, Lexie, her parents and so on. 

Nevertheless, I tried to stick to the airier, more traditionally “pretty” pieces whilst still channelling the confidence and ease with which Cassie pulls them off. Sydney Sweeney has the most incredible figure and I feel like whilst the clothes the on-set stylists put her in flatter that and don’t hide anything, they’re still the focus. It doesn’t feel like there’s anything more inherently sexual about her character than any of the other main female characters despite the way the men within the narrative view her, and I think it’s a testament to the the wardrobe department that to me she still gives off big modern Disney princess energy and a certain innocence even whilst we hear her being continuously sexualised by her male peers. 

If anything, Cassie probably dresses the most like an actual teenage girl, and her style, whilst less distinctive than the other girls, still does a good job of capturing the youth and romanticism of her character. 

The colour palette of her wardrobe tends to be quite neutral, with a couple of pastels thrown in there, and if there are any details, they’re usually quite dainty. Similarly, Cassie is probably the least experimental when it comes to her makeup; we don’t really see her wearing the bold eyeshadows or liners or gems like the other girls at any point.

OUTFIT 1-

Bodysuit-Motel Rocks

Hair Clips-Bershka

OUTFIT 2-

Dress-Jaded London

OUTFIT 3-

Trousers-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 4-

Top-Urban Outfitters

Hairband-H&M

`OUTFIT 5-

Top-Urban Outfitters

Jeans-Zaful

Headband-Primark

OUTFIT 6-

Top-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 7-

Dress-Urban Outfitters

Hair Clips-Boohoo

SO, I guess that’s it for my Euphoria lookbook! As always, let me know what you think (nicely pls, my ego is fragile lol) and I’d love to hear your opinions on the show too! I really haven’t got this excited over a new TV show in ages and I just think that it does everything so excellently-from the writing to the cinematography to the soundtrack, you can tell each element is so carefully and purposefully constructed. It immerses you into the dramatic highs and lows of being a teenager in a way I haven’t seen since UK Skins and I never thought I’d watch a show which held a candle to that. 

In terms of what I’m doing next, I’ve got a very delayed fashion week masterpost in the works as well as something to fill the Met Gala shaped hole in our lives, which I hope to get up over the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, if you read to the end, THANK YOU! And I hope you’re staying safe and AT HOME where possible. I know this self-isolation feels never-ending and if I’m honest, it is having a hugely negative effect on my mental health, but NHS staff are doing their very best with the shitty recourses they have and whilst it seems that our government have thrown workers under the bus once again, we can all do our bit to combat that by slowing the spread of the virus. Also thank you to anybody who’s out working now in such a scary and uncertain time! I work at a grocery store and can say from experience that the best way to show this thanks is just through kindness and following employee’s instructions without giving them grief for it. Everyone’s scared right now and the best we can do is pull together and look out for each other, as difficult as that might seem at times.

Anyway, sorry for the ramble, and like I said, stay safe! Thanks once again if you read til the end or even if you’re just here for the photos. Appreciate it more than you know either way!

Lauren x

[speuradair]

I wanna hear about your favorite OC. or current favourite, I know mine are like my babies and it's hard to choose. I love the sibling dynamic too, I have two Marvel OCS, one whose the daughter of Thor, Kari, and one whose the daughter of Loki, Astrid. They're my main babies rn, like the idea started out so simple but than I wanted to make them their own story and not have their legacy be their parents. I've also got my sonic the hedgehog OC from when I was a kid that I came back to and am polishing up now that I'm a better writer. Her name is Annastasia and she's supposed to be sonics twin. Than there was Umeko for blue Exorcist, she's basically a witch. Haven't fully finished her yet. And than there Airi for Assassination Classroom, she's one I kind of projected a lot of my insecurities one to try and love myself a bit more. Like for example, she's a bit more on the thicker side as I am and I'm trying to love that about myself and I love Airi and I think she's adorable the way she is so it's kind of my way of trying to cope with something I can't really change. She's basically a character I've mostly projected myself on to. Than I have Amoret Faith from Soul eater whose also a witch. (I love witches) I know I've got more, I can't think of any other's tho. But right now the ones who are kind of fleshed out the most I'd say are probably Astrid and Kari, I'm working more on Annastasia tho. But I'd love to hear your OCS, whichever one your most passionate about rn

They all sound so cool too, I love them all 🥺 I'm glad I'm not the only one who loves to make oc's that are related to canon characters, those are always the characters I like the most

Rin is technically my self insert for BNHA, so I'm super attached to her! She has a time based quirk that lets her see into either the past or the future for short bursts of time. She can push herself enough to see farther back or farther forward, but it has some intense consequences. The longer she tries to use her quirk, the more stress it puts on her and her brain- which leads to migraines, ringing ears and nosebleeds at best, and temporary blindness and passing out

She was adopted by Aizawa when she was about 5/6 after she was rescued during a villain base raid. She's the product of a quirk marriage, like shoto, but rather than being crafted into the ideal hero, she was intended to be a strong villain. Aizawa is involved in the raid mission, and rescues Rin from the building. Long story short he gets attached and ends up legally adopting her :')

-

Then I have Kaiya, who's shoto's younger twin! She just has her mother's quirk, though, and similarly, she seems to only have her mother's features- pale skin, light eyes, white hair. While shoto looks very similar to their father, Kaiya looks almost identical to their mother. Her quirk is really strong, so she's constantly cold and has to bundle up in sweaters. It also leaves a constant pink flush on her nose and cheeks from her low body temperature

I don't have her story finished, but she eventually realizes that Dabi is Touya before he announced it, and ends up reconnecting with him. Then I kind of have two timelines for her, if that makes sense? Like I have one where she stays neutral and does her best to redeem him and fix her family, and one where she ends up being a villain as well

Her hero name is Freeze Frame, but if she ends up being a villain, her villain alias is Frostbite

-

For dangan, I have Haru, who's Byakuya's younger twin! She's the shsl figure skater, and she went to Hope's Peak and was in the THH killing game as well

She has a very long backstory/plot, but the tl;dr version is that twins have to be treated as one possible heir in the Togami lineage rule, so she isn't exiled after Byakuya wins the title of heir. She's autistic and semi-verbal though, and their father doesn't care much for her since he considers her an 'unfortuanately necessary inconvenience'. Byakuya is super protective of her, and she relies on him a lot until they start at Hope's Peak, where she's able to find her own independence and found family with her classmates :')

She befriends Chihiro and Aoi very quickly, and ends up learning enough coding from Chihiro to carry on as the tech person for the Future Foundation after the killing game

I could totally ramble about them forever so I'll stop here, but they're my favorites and they're my emotional support ocs 🥺💕

[memecucker]

discoursedrome

replied to your post

“the reason anime characters have disproportionately large eyes is the...”

there's something to this but it seems like it doesn't account for the stylistic variation in eye size within different cartoon styles and often within a single series, which is not just arbitrary but signifies something!

Well, this is an interesting topic, it depends on the work in question as to what is being signified. Differing eyeshapes within the same series can also be used not just for emoting but also accompany the narrative roles various characters express. And not just in obvious ways like “babies have cute eyes” either but they can denote for example what role a given character plays in comedic dynamics.  As an example lets focus our attention to The Flintstones and specifically the facial designs of the four main adult characters.  

So something thats present in basically all designs of The Flintstones that keep to the original style is that Fred’s eyes are always drawn in what can be considered a classic cartoons style having large pupils surrounded by the sclera (white of the eye) while Wilma has the “old newspaper strip” style of Peanuts or Popeye where she simply has plain black ovals or circles. Barney and Betty are similar but in reverse, with Barny having just a black circle (though more round than Wilma since he has a rounder design) and Betty having pupils inlaid within a sclera (though there’s some inconsistency with her as she sometimes has an ‘implied’ flesh-colored sclera). There are moments of inconsistency with Barney sometimes having a flesh-colored pupil and Betty sometimes having flesh-colored sclera but generally speaking thats how their eyes work if animators were staying on-model. 

Now whats interesting about this is if you look at Flintstones episodes the members of the main adult cast will most frequently be interacting with the other members who have different eye shapes. So Fred and Wilma are married of course as are Barney and Betty and also Fred and Barnie are best friends as are Wilma and Betty. This means that there is a feeling of visual variety when the plot splits characters off into pairs whatever they may be. It also helps make it clear that none of them are blood relatives which could be a source of confusion especially in the case of Fred and Barney who really would sorta look like brothers if they had similar eyes since they share many similarities in the rest of their designs especially the perpetual five-oclock-shadow (not something thats really a sign of genetic relation but aesthetic logic doesnt have to mirror the real world).

In addition to that, Fred has the largest eyes of all the characters. This makes sense because he is the overall main character of the show and him having the largest eyes means he will be the first face the audience will naturally focus on in a scene. Its also relevant for Fred’s comic role because he tends to be the active agent in the comedy either peforming actions which frustrate Wilma or which are commented on by Barney and when you have a comedic reversal where Fred ends a scene feeling very different from when he started

As an example we can look at this particular clip from the original series

 So in what ends up being a very common premise for episodes or sequences in the series, an upset Fred wishes to end his friendship with Barney. Fred has a thick furrowed brows meeting downward facing eyes showing clear aggression. Barney (who as I said earlier is being drawn off model in that his eyes are not colored in during this scene) simply stares at Fred, his eyes being just ovals but with his eyebrows being raised in a way to show that he is meeting Fred’s anger in a light-hearted way. You’ll notice that Barney has much thinner eyebrows located much further away from his eyes than Fred, this is because since he doesnt actually have pupils, the way his eyes express emotion is by showing their relationship to other parts of his face specifically eyebrows. Having thin eyebrows allows for more flexibility for their placement, in thise case they even touch his hairline.

Fred accuses Barney of mooching or stealing his stuff including his favorite drink Cactus Coolah (funfact the actual soda Cactus Cooler was created to ride off the popularity of the Flintstones and its fictional soda brand). His eyes are basically in the same position as they were in the previous still with the shift from plain aggression to a smug aggression (setting up the comedic reversal) being conveyed by the rest of his face. 

Barney tries to warn Fred the bottle he’s holding isnt Cactus Coolah. Unlike Fred Barney is expressing a strong shift in emotion from bemusedly teasing Fred to being actively concerned for him. Barney’s actual eyes havent moved at all other than being proportionately larger than earlier but whats being used to convey Barney’s emotions in this still are his eyebrows. They go high-up and far from his eyes and curved to being much closer to his eyes and straight. 

Fred realizes he just drank car polish. His eyes are not incredibly different, conveying both stress and sickness. Not only does he have lines surrounding his eye conveying stress and anxiety but they even go inside his eyes nearly touching his pupil. His eyelids have descended partially.  His eyebrows also show the change of his emotional state no longer being a furrowed unibrow though their importance is secondary to the visual changes pertaining his actual eyes.

After throwing the heavy stone bottle into the air and bonking his own head combined with the implied effects of drinking car polish, Fred’s eyes become asymmetric showing disharmony and showing he is about to pass out. Interestingly he suddenly now has (white colored) irises, the purpose of this being to show widened dilating pupils that relate to a state of excitedness or stress while at the same time not contradicting that he is on the verge of losing cosciousness which is conveyed by his eyelids being pulled down asymmetrically. 

Throughout that short scene Fred having the largest most expressive (for a Hanna-Barbara TV production anyway) eyes of the cast are used to show how he is both the active agent in the story driving the narrative forward as his emotion carry him but he is also the object of things being done to him and with his eyes showing his emotional state in those cases. Barney, being an observer of Fred’s antics emotes not so much with his eyes but the raising and lowering of his eyebrows. Essentially, Fred’s narrative role in the series requires him to be drawn with a much wider emotional range when compared to Barney. This is on top of the other role the eyes of the characters play in this particular show being another way to physically distinguish between the four main adult members of the cast.

[anotheronechicagobog]

Dunder Mifflin Meets Intelligence AKA

Volomag and Vodka Part 2

Warnings: swearing, mention of vomit, numerous times, pranks

Written by @anotheronechicagobog

A/N I hope you guys laugh at this as much as I did writing it. The pranks are from a show called “The Office U.S.”, I do not own that or One Chicago Also, Kevin’s sister Vinessa makes an appearance

Whoever coined the term ‘morning sickness’ deserves a slow and painful death. Kim thought bitterly as she was hugging the toilet at ten at night. “Kim? I made you some ginger tea and I got you a glass of water.”

“I fucking love you.”All Adam could do was laugh as he sat on the edge of the bathtub and gathered Kim’s hair in one hand and rubbed his hand up and down her back. Kim let out a grateful hum before her stomach lurched again. The gruesome sound of Kim spewing more stomach acid (because let’s face it, there’s nothing else left for her to throw up) into the porcelain toilet bowl.

Several minutes later Kim felt better, not good, but better. She felt okay enough to get off the floor. She stood up and grabbed the glass of water Adan had brought her from the sink counter and washed out her mouth before grabbing her toothbrush to complete the process of removing the acidic bitterness from her mouth. By the time she raised the mug of tea to her lips it was cold. “Thank you, Adam. For everything.” Her eyes met his in the mirror as he came up behind her to wrap his arms around her middle. “No thanks is necessary. This feels like a dream come true.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I... I don’t think that I’ve been this happy in a long time. I know that we’ve had our issues, but I love you. I have for years. Even when we broke up, I can’t stop. Even if I wanted to.”

“I love you too.” And she did. She might not know where she stands with him right now, she might not want to be labelled as his girlfriend right now, but she does love him. Dating after Adam was hard because she was always comparing them. No matter who they were or how much she tried to stop it, none of them came even close to the bar that Adam had raised. “C’mon,” he kissed the crown of her head, “let’s go to bed, we’ve got work in the morning and you might wake up a few more times in the night.” She smiled softly as he guided her towards her bedroom.

They hadn’t moved in together, but they were looking for a place. Three bedrooms. One for the baby, and one per adult. Adam and Kim, they had such a dramatic history, that they weren’t actually sure how to handle it. They wanted to have this baby, they wanted to parent together, they just weren’t sure if they should be in a relationship while doing so. It was a complicated situation, but they were doing their best to make it work.

————————————————————————————————————

The next day Kim was standing behind the desk at the 21st district. It was a... Unique change, because despite her bubbly personality, she’d managed to be grumpier than Trudy was behind the desk. It had absolutely nothing to do with the work, the officers, or the civilians, and everything to do with her pregnancy symptoms. Nausea and soreness kept her awake at night, causing her to be exhausted and in need of coffee, but she can’t have coffee! And on top of all that, people were constantly bringing food in that thrust her into a constant state of “if I don’t keep my mouth closed I’m going to hurl on everything in front of me, yes I have tried ginger ale, saltines, and ginger tea, and no, none of them have worked”. She was excited to be a mom but she was ready to behead somebody.

“Hey mama, how are you holding up?” Trudy, yes she was letting Kim call her by her first name now, had become her saving grace. Since Kim was covering the desk Trudy was free to do work in the back office and go on patrol. In return, Trudy was making sure Kim always water, Gatorade, and Polish beef barley soup (it was the only thing that didn’t make her hurl). “I haven’t disintegrated anyone with a glare today, so good.”

“Ha! Well, I brought another blue raspberry one for you. I’m gonna head out with Tay for the day since O’Donnel is out sick today.”

“I’m so glad that you were able to get her assigned to 21 again. I missed her.”

“Spare me the love fest, Burgess.” Her tone may have been snappy but the smile on her face and light in her eyes gave away just how happy she was. “Have a good day Sargent.”

“You too.”

————————————————————————————————————

Hailey and Vanessa had been keeping her up to date with all the goofiness of intelligence. All the jokes and all the pranks. When they noticed that Kim looked like she was going to cry, scream, and throw up, they figured they should do something to cheer her up. And since nothing ridiculously funny was happening on its own, they decided to make it happen, with some inspiration from one Jim Halpert.

First, they decided to try one of Vanessa’s favourites. The vending machine prank. They grabbed all of the small knick-knacks from the guys’ desks (excluding Voight because they didn’t have a death wish) and convinced the vending machine guy to let them put them in the vending machine. Adam’s Groot bobblehead, name plaque, and Chicago Bears bouncy ball, in places C4, D2, and H7 respectively. Kevin’s Chicago Blackhawks hockey puck, large globe pencil sharpener, and small Chicago bears teddy bear, in places A6, I3, and F2. Jay’s magic 8 ball, Deadpool figurine, and ‘cereal killer’ spoon, in places G5, D9, and A3.

Second, they moved Kevin’s desk into the bathroom. Phones, computers all plugged in. And aside from the items in the vending machine, all were where they normally were on Kevin’s desk. Vanessa even placed all of his files in order and each spine of the folder a couple of centimetres forward each level. So it looked kind of like a staircase made of folders, and that was how he always did it, according to Vanessa. That earned the dark-haired woman a knowing chuckle from Hailey who, Vanessa reminded, really didn’t have room to talk.

Third, they moved Jay’s desk into the corner of the bullpen, where Al’s used to be, and put a large navy blanket over it. Figuring that was enough to keep his desk out of sight. Together, with some scrap wood from one bewildered Matt Casey, they wrapped the pieces of wood together in such a way that they imitated a desk, a chair, a computer monitor, a phone (that one was a pain), his file divider, pencil cup, pencils and pens, and stacks of files. They were both so proud when the got to look at the finished product.

Fourth, Hailey had gone to a hardware store and gotten a spool of red wire. She plugged on end into Adam’s monitor before placing the wiring with tape along the front of his desk, the floor, all around the edge of the break room, out into the bullpen again, before going down the hallway to the interrogation room, up the wall across from the gun safes, attached to a plastic tub filled with neon coloured ping pong balls. This one went a little off-script, but they were both excited to see how it would turn out.

Fifth and finally, they took the containers out of the fridge that they had made first so that the contents would have time to solidify. Taking off the lids of the three containers, the two women flipped them over quickly onto plates. Thankfully the jello stayed completely intact, each confection clearly showing the mugs inside.

Giggling they stood back and high fived, feeling good and excited for the next day. A heavy cough interrupted them from their internal praise and sense of accomplishment. “Sargent. Hi. What are you doing here so late? We don’t have a case.”

“I was about to ask you two ladies the same thing Upton.” The two women looked at each other and sighed, knowing they were caught, Hailey answered.

“We were setting up pranks for the guys.”

“Don’t you two think that’s a bit childish?”

“It’s to cheer Kim up. She’s been so stressed, and the pregnancy symptoms have been so awful that we thought she needed a good laugh. Plus, it’s not like the guys will get mad at us. Adam and Kevin will go puppy-eyed once they realize this was all for Kim, and Jay’s in love with Hailey so he won’t be mad at her, and he can’t be mad at me if he isn’t mad at her since we came up with all of this together.”

“Hey! He doesn’t... Whatever,” she muttered when she saw the look Voight gave her, “Plus, we didn’t do anything that involved your office, your stuff, or you.”

“... Alright. At least there’ll be some entertainment to distract from the boredom of spending all day doing paperwork. Now get out of here, get some sleep, you have to be back here in five hours.”

————————————————————————————————————

“... Where is my desk?”

“Forget that, why is mine wrapped up like some kind of present?”

“Mine looks fine... But different? Does that even make sense?”

“I’m gonna need coffee if I’m gonna deal with whatever th fuck this is.”

“Start a big pot, Kev.”

“Hey what is this red wire? And duct tape?”

“It’s a computer, Ruzek. It has wires.”

“Thank you for your sarcasm Rojas, but seriously, what is going on? And why are your and Hailey’s desks normal?” Hailey pulled out her phone and started recording Adam as he unplugged the red wire and pulling it up. The duct tape came up with a sticky ripping sound. Everyone watched closely and angeled themselves to get a better look as the tape lifted up from the bullpen floor and continued into the breakroom, Adam growled in frustration as he exited the breakroom pulling the wire up just after he had entered and gone in a circle. Everyone followed him curiously as he went down the hall to the interrogation room, just as Jay was about to shout out an agitated question, the tape went up the wall. When Adam gave a final tug, the last bit of tape came off the wall, but he’d also pulled the rest of the wire, at what it was connected to, down to him. Causing started gasps and shouts from the guys as 100 neon ping-pong balls rained down from the ceiling all over them. “Okay seriously, what was that?!” Hailey, Vanessa, and Voight were all in the background enjoying the show.

“Wait, wait... Do you hear that?” The shouts stopped and everyone strained their ears to listen to what Kevin was pointing out. A desk phone ringing. From the men’s bathroom. Voight subtly took Hailey’s phone to continue the recording. “What the hell?!” Kevin, Adam, and Jay had found Kevin’s desk in the bathroom. Looking confused as hell he looked to his brothers before picking up the phone. “... Hello? Oh, hi Vinessa. Listen I’m gonna have to call you back, something’s going on at work. I love you okay? Say ‘hi’ to auntie for me... Okay, I’ll tell Kim you say ‘hi’. Bye.” He hung up the phone before sitting down and stretching his arms out over his desk. Almost nothing is out of place. “What the ACTUAL fuck?! And where is my hockey puck?!”

“Okay, now I’m even more curious as to why my desk is wrapped up like a birthday present.” Numbly nodding their heads all the men left the bathroom and cornered Jay’s desk. Vanessa had Hailey’s phone and she watched with her boss and roommate as they did their best not to blow their cover. Jay shook his head, puzzled at the state of his desk before putting his arm on his desk and plopping down in his chair... Everything immediately collapsed. Leaving the girls pushing back tears as Jay tried to stand up in the sea of slippery wrapping paper and wood. “Fucking hell someone please tell me that the coffee is done.” He looked like Bambi on ice trying to get up as Kevin hollered from the breakroom, “pot’s done! And thank fucking God for that! Hey! Why is my hockey puck in the vending machine?!” Hailey and Jay followed the crowd in last, Hailey having to help her partner get up. They entered and Adam looked like he was about to blow a gasket. “My name plaque! Groot! Who- Why would someone do this?!”

“Who the fuck put Deadpool in the vending machine?! And where is my desk?!”

Taking shaky breaths all the boys muttered the holy word; “coffee.” Kevin went to get the creamer when he stopped dead in his tracks. Three thuds later, and each of the boys’ favourite mugs were on the counter, floating in piss yellow jello. “Why is my mug in jello?”

“I washed these last night! First the ping-pong balls and now this?!” Adam reached into the jello and pulled his mug out, the jiggly substance still visible inside the mug. The two pranksters (and witness) burst into tear-jerking laughter. Hailey snatched her phone back and sloppily emailed the video to Kim before the boys could stop her. “O-oh - oh m-y- Fu- HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“You two did this?!” The girls quickly got off the floor and hauled ass to the women’s bathroom. The lock clicked just as the guys reached the door. “Hey!”

“Get out here now!”

“What did we do to deserve this?!” Their voices were lost in a mixture of laughter and yelling. Hailey and Vanessa were curled up on the floor hugging their stomachs and each other as the laughter became painful.

Suddenly the yelling stopped, and their boss’ voice made it’s way to the two hyenas. “I think it’s time to explain, ladies.” They took deep breaths, their laughter finally coming to an end. They untangled themselves and stood up, but didn’t dare leave the sanctuary of the ladies’ room. “Kim’s been really sad lately. We wanted to cheer her up.”

“And you thought that pranking us was the best way to do it, Hailey?!”

“Yeah, Jay. We all get a kick from joking around now and then, and she’s told Vanessa and I numerous times that sending pics and videos of funny work mishaps brightens her day.”

“We just wanted her to smile again, guys. She constantly looks like she’s about to burst into tears or rip someone’s throat out with her teeth.”

“... Fair enough. I know that this has been hard for everyone, but Kim and I really appreciate your support.” The click of the lock and squeeze of the door had Jay looking into the delighted eyes of his favourite person and... he wasn’t angry. He’d calmed down when they were talking about Kim, but seeing Hailey smile? Really, truly smile? He’d do anything for that. Vanessa stepped out of the way, and into Kevin as Jay wrapped Hailey in his arms, tucking his face into the crook of her neck.

“Kim is my best friend.”

“Hey!”

“Shut it, Adam. Kim is my best friend. Thanks for caring about her.”

“Don’t thank me, it was really, really fun.” And just like that, the intense emotional mood was broken. Causing laughter, from everyone this time, to reign supreme.

“As much as I love this... I’ll call it team bonding and get HR paperwork on hand, we have a desk day today. And we all need to work. So let’s put Atwater and Halstead’s desks back in their rightful places.”

“Okay seriously, where did the two of you put my desk, Hails?”

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The signature footsteps of Trudy Platt raced up the stairs to the intelligence bullpen, drawing all eyes to her. “Can any of you explain why Kim had to excuse herself to the back room to roll on the floor laughing?”