#not to get into a lot of detail but having hair makes a skin condition much more likely to repeat itself over and over and im sick of it

[teoriaespacial]

I'm a bit sad bc my doctor told me to get laser hair removal on my armpits :(((((((

[nicoliharu]

Coli!! Hi hi good morning!! Do you have any Headcanons for Ruggie?? Like, when you draw him do you have anything you always include or leave out? Just curious hehe I love your art!! Have a nice day <3 <3 <3

Hi Dede! Thanks for the ask🥺😭💗

I will comment on what I would like to do differently when I draw him cause for me you write him PERFECT and I wouldn't change anything! This guy is precious and needs love to know he isn't inferior to anyone! 😭💗

⚠️ My headcanons (design) Ruggie Bucchi:

So, aren't that many changes, it's just simple, the way I usually imagine him 🥺👉👈

🍩 Skin: Ruggie has more melanin, I personally love Ruggie with any skin tone but forgive me Yana but it's hard to resist painting his skin like that.

I mean, I think it goes much better with his color palette. Personally, I would paint with this palette for him in my fanart and content forever. I want to eternally thank whoever had the idea of giving more melanin to his plush 🥺💗 I don't know if it's my laptop screen that's old, but it looks a little desaturated, but I'll adjust over time.

🍩 Blonde lashes: I still need to practice more cause I love the idea that Ruggie would have some blonde lashes, not gold and flashy but brown light 🥺

🍩 Freckles: Excessive on the nose/cheeks, ends of the arms, and a lot on the back…IT'S CANON IN MY HEAD, YANA YOU FAILED ME, HOW YOU DARE?? HOW CAN YOU NOT GIVE HIM FRECKLES?😭

🍩 Body hair: Well, he's a guy who's growing, he's about to turn 18, there's no chance no have body hair. Besides, I believe that beastmen have more body hair than humans, so for Ruggie I imagine golden hair but if it gets wet it turns a little brown, on the arms and legs 😔👉👈

🍩 Eye pupil: I know that's normal but I like to think that his pupil becomes ''thin'' (how in English is this?) when he feels threatened or annoyed by something and dilates when he sees something that interests/likes him.

🍩 Teeth: Bigger and thicker than Leona and Jack. Please, spotted hyenas have a bone-breaking bite and tear thick skins too. Ruggie canonically said he can easily eat steak with bones…Oh gosh if he likes bite who he lov- STOP NICOLI SHHHH

🍩 Hair: A little rough and messy with some split ends, I don't think he cares much about any special shampoo or conditioner, taking care of his hair. Besides, I think he occasionally cuts it with scissors on his own. I know I could leave it wavy or curly but thinking that rough bristles remind me of hyenas' fur makes me so 🥺

🍩 Body: We know that Ruggie's thin cause his condition but I believe that his legs and arms are ''strong'' of cause the acrobatic way in which he moves, both day to day, running and practicing at the Club. I don't mean bulging muscles but you realize that given his activities and abilities it makes sense!!! 😔

🍩 About the piercing: it was a detail I wanted to add but I don't know if I always imagine him with that or not 🤡👌

Forgive my grammar and English mistakes! These are my humble headcanons for Ruggie's design, if anyone thinks differently this is just fun for everyone, y'all have the right to imagine how they want. And I would like to say one more thing, about other details that I can only talk about better with more drawings, such as excess hair with spots above his tail (I love this detail too). So there will always be changes for everything!

Thank you again for your ask Dede, you're a wonderful writer that I admire so much and love your works! 🥺😭💗💗💗

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.60)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Life changes come in many many forms; courting gifts, leaving jobs, and...Murder

Tags: Slow burn getting warmer, Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, Trans! Tae, Transphobia, gender thoughts, workplace discrimination, flashbacks, murder, the word 'r*pe' is used to describe what Geumjae did to her but there are no graphic depictions of it, allusions to physical abuse, graphic violence, there is a brief moment where someone not in the pack touches the m/c's ass without her consent, blood, briefly implied suicidal actions- but it's nothing like what you haven't seen before.

W/c: 12.6k

A/n: i'll be attending my cousin's wedding at the time this is posted so! give me lots of love when you read it cuz i'm so nervous~ i've never been around so many fancy people before <3

Previous part ~ Masterlist

You dab at the skin under your eyes carefully. You know they must look red and puffy. Tae’s careful instruction to treat your skin well as all good baby pups should has somehow stuck.

Even here. Even now.

“Do people like always loose it with you? Like when they walk in, do they all cry?”

Your therapist (yes, your therapist) across the narrow room is the opposite of threatening; soft face, pulled back hair, neutral clothing that might just as well be out of a country living catalog.

You don’t know where Jin found her, what little medical booklet he perused like a take-out menu, or how much her services cost per hour. Those kinds of details were not for delicate little pups like yourself to worry over in his opinion.

Most of the time, you're glad not to have to worry about things like this. But right now you're chomping at the bit. Weighting your odds. The other unknowns hover before you. One sticks out. One you're most concerned about.

Is she trustworthy?

Nothing about Dr. Rima seems outwardly threatening, yet you curl in on yourself. She smiles, scrawling something on the top of her notepad before she answers, and something taught in you ticks tighter.

“You’re correct in assuming that most people I meet cry in the first few minutes when they meet me, but you are the first person to cry on my threshold. Most of the time people wait until they’re at least in the chair.”

That has a smile tugging at your lips, albeit unwillingly. Your smile is like a leashed wild animal, with too many teeth when you feel threatened. Contained for now.

If you got up and walked out right now, would she call someone to restrain you? Will you be committed if you tell the truth? Or are you just misinterpreting the stakes?

You are here of your own volition. Even if it was a condition that Jin and Namjoon weren't willing to budge on after the events of last week. It's not like the pack is having you put in a mental institution or something, although they did come with you today. For moral support.

The waiting room was stuffy and yellow, one of those little waterfall mirrors in the corner that you’d watched in a fog sat between Yoongi and Jimin while Jin filled out the necessary paperwork. His pen hovering over the small boxes every few seconds. He'd taken the afternoon off of work to make sure he was there, just to fill out paperwork.

Are you on any medications? Do you have a history with substance abuse disorders? Do you have any intent to harm yourself or others?

Sending glares to anyone who dared to come too close, Jimin had looked and smelled threatening. You're not sure he’d have let you go into an isolated location with her if she’d been an alpha. Jin too had looked close to snapping.

yoongi was the only one who looked somewhat calm, althoug his hand was tightly laced with yours (and a little sweaty)

It’s a wonder that the rest of your pack had agreed to stay home for this. This was just one of several concessions you’d made after what the pack has politely begun referring to as 'sad pup time' during your more vulnerable moments, and blatantly 'your breakdown' during less fragile ones.

But sweet words or not. The facts remain; You are here in this chair after a nearly tearful departure.

You’d met the therapist in the doorway, shaking in your boots, and upon being separated from your pack with the promise that they’d be just downstairs in the lobby, you’d followed her inside.

Yoongi had made a noise in his throat, making you turn back. Dr.Rima turned to watch as he’d pulled you in for a last-minute hug, ducking down to your level. “One hour, okay? We’ll be just downstairs. Text me if you need me.”

His eyes were heavy-looking at the stranger. Unwilling to let you go just yet. A little stalwart, a little standoffish.

“Take good care of her please. She’s very precious to us.”

Precious.

That much was evident by the nearly three-page document that both your pack alpha and omega sent through once Namjoon and Jin had selected Dr. Rima as your therapist. Dr. Rima has quite a bit of experience dealing with overprotective pack alphas and pack omegas. Let alone a pack alpha and pack omega who have such a clinical background.

Yes, you must be well taken care of. At least on paper.

She’s already itching a little, to get her hands on all the others. Packmates and their names are written out, as a part of all intake files. Large packs aren't so common anymore. Her eyes fix on one name; Min Yoongi (beta, mate) unemployed.

The big windows help it feel not so small, on the second floor, the trees block out most of the view of the park below. A small voice that sounds like Hobi whispers that it’s a shame she doesn’t have any plants in here, they'd do so well with all of this natural light.

Your knees clack together a little, moving listlessly, the anxiety in your body begging to be released somewhere.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Why don’t we start with why you wanted to come in today.”

You avoid her eye contact, looking instead at the tops of the trees, you don’t know why they haven’t changed color yet, all of the trees on your street are half bare already. She has a smooth inoffensive scent, but you’re mated to a beta so you know what to expect when it comes to the relaxing effects, the subtle haze at the edge of your vision. It must come in handy, having the biological upper hand, when it comes to patients in distress.

If therapists are rare, beta therapists must be even rarer.

You can practically hear Jin, “Nothing but the best for my pup.” There is a part of your brain that won’t ever turn off, appraising everything around you. The designer pumps that she wears. The knickknacks on her desks, there are no photos of any packs that she might call her own, just a pink calendar in the corner.

Your breath goes just a little bit rapid, just a little, hitching when you think of it.

“Did Jin tell you anything?”

“He didn’t. Although my secretary did inform me that he filled out the paperwork for you.” The air in the therapist’s office is cold. Cold enough that it has you wrapping your sweater sleeves over your knuckles.

Your cheeks heat “My pack they- get a bit- protective.” Your fingers circle your wrist. You’re glad that Hobi convinced you to take one of his sweatshirts. He'd had a strange look on his face while he zipped it up, and you'd had to worry and wonder about it the whole morning. You'd worried more once he texted, just after he must have gotten to work.

“I have kind of a history of self-destructive behavior and I- I kind fell into bad habits a few days ago and blew up. It was all kind of triggered by this like- thing that happened with me and my other packmate.” It’s surprisingly easy to tell the truth.

You’re a right side better than you have been the last few weeks, now. A little bit more present, less foggy. The doctor just looks at her screen and not at you. What is it with her asking questions that make you not want to lie? Why does it feel like you should anyway?

Dr. Rima reads between the lines, what you're trying to say without saying it. “Is there a possibility of you hurting yourself again?” She clicks at the screen a little rapidly.

“No.”

The truth is you have no idea. It seems best to lie in this situation. But you consider it; one of your packmates making the call that you are too much to handle, that you need more help than they can offer. You imagine what it would be like to be in inpatient care. Grippy socks and group therapy and probably observed mealtimes. Maybe Iv's and feeding tubes if it came to that. Away from the pack and away from Yoongi.

He’s just downstairs, but that feels too far. There was no way that he was going to let you do this alone, you wouldn't be surprised if he never left the waiting room.

It’s just a therapy session. The very thing that you once refused. But now that you're here you might as well heal, you might as well work to stop this endless train of brief highs and endless lows. you'll give it a go, why not? What do you have to lose?

And yet, the texts from Hobi remain unanswered:

Ho-🐝 (9:48): Hey, I’m really proud of you.

Ho-🐝 (9:48): I’m really happy I get to be your packmate. In case you ever worry.

Ho-🐝 (9:49): And your best friend too &lt;3

Ho-🐝 (9:51): Just so you knowwww

The pack has kept you substantially plied with little solutions since your breakdown last week. They haven’t let you rot like usual. They’ve kept your days full of little activities; nothing too extravagant or tiring. Letting you rest when you need to and encouraging you to get outside of your comfort zone when it’s clear you’re giving in.

It comes down to that more often than not; giving in or not giving in.

Not giving in looks like trips back to the beach with Hobi. Like going to the salon with Tae and shopping with Jimin. Or another workout class with Jungkook where you’d spent more of the time lounging on the yoga mat than actually moving your body. But you'd still tenuously agreed to sign up for more classes under the encouragement of Wonho and Jungkook.

And now twice a week, you’ve got a mat to call your own during any classes, in the back, if you decide you want it. Your callender hasn't felt so full in years, it feels strange, to have something to do during the weeks that isn't just scraping the bottom of the barrel and doing house chores. Strange in a good way.

Not all of the pack's solutions aren’t silly but sometimes, silly is a good way to push out the dark.

The morning after your breakdown; you'd watched your pack work, fighting back a flush. Sitting at the kitchen bar stool while Yoongi applied painter’s tape to the floor, not intent on keeping back paint this time, but marking it off for you.

You’re a little bit more determined this morning although your first night without nightmares in a little over a month had kept you in higher spirits. You feel more well-rested than you have in ages.

“You don’t need to- I promise- I’m not going-“ but your requests had fallen on deaf ears. Worry building until Jungkook stood up fast grinning up at you, pupils wide brown pools from getting scented stupid this morning.

(Scented stupid, you'd been scented by the pack too, had struggled a little against it, too shy as Namjoon dragged his throat along yours, squirming until yoongi held you down a little, checking with you each few seconds that you wanted that, that your squirming was really just needing to feel a firm touch, a dominant one.

You will go nowhere until your pack have had their right to you, scenting you up, making your scent gland tender and swollen under their teeths and tongues.

It felt so much better to be made to handle it, each of the pack, even hobi, hovering over you to scent you with their wrists and throats. until you smelled so claimed by them that you couldn't breathe without smelling it- Pack.

Jungkook had pouted until he'd gotten the same treatment, although the omegaspace haze had lasted longer on him than it had on you.

He stands up so fast that his hair fluffs. Catching himself on your leg with a giggle before he topples over. grinning up at you before pressing a sleepy sloppy kiss to your knee and then another to your lips,

“No pup zone!" Omega Space Jungkook can get a little bit ridiculous even at the best of times. He's got a case of the morning omegaspace zoomies as he giggles and nips at your nose. You playfully push at his chest. He doesn't budge.

"Your whole face is a no-pup zone." The dissatisfied pur-chirp he'd let out had sounded half hurt, half encouraged.

Namjoon had eased your discomfort. Pulling you from the stool to lean back against his chest, fingers drumming out a rhythm on your legs as Jungkook huffes into your throat.

Having this failsafe- this rule, does not mean that they think you’re going to fail, these are guard rails to keep you on track. Namjoon looks down at you, his full bottom lip tucked a little, not a pout but close. “This is the easiest solution, if you don’t go near it then maybe, maybe it helps.”

His fingers drum against your skin again, and you lean back into him. Uneasy but willing to let him soothe you.

So yes, you’ve been banned from the kitchen, banned from crossing that line that runs from the edge of the coffee stand and just in front of Tae's library room, to the island and over to the fridge. Unless there is someone else close by. You are not allowed here without supervision.

It’s a simple solution, limiting you from the place that you use to hurt yourself. Never mind the fact that there are dozens if not hundreds of other possible avenues you could use. Your creativity knows no bounds when it comes to pain, but you quiet that part of yourself when the desire for hurt gets loud.

You can’t say it hasn’t helped. But then again, the pack has kept you so busy since your breakdown that you haven't had any time to think of hurting yourself let alone put any plans into action.

Across from you, Dr. Rima waits expectantly.

"It was kind of triggered by this thing that happened."

The tip of her pen bobs a little as she writes. “Could you describe the event to me? Or is that something you're not ready to talk about?" You nod and she waits patiently. It takes you a breath to answer.

“A little less than a month ago one of my packmates and I found a dead body."

You feel a little vindicated at her inhale of breath. Wide eyes that say yes- that is something traumatic, yes, it's fair that it kinda triggered you into a more fragile state.

"It dredged up a lot of feelings about my past. Before that, I was kind of starting to feel s-safe which I haven't like, ever been able to feel."

“And your packmate?"

There is new treacherous wetness balancing on your waterline. “Hobi’s a lot stronger than me, his past and mine are really similar but he just- handles his better. A lot of the time it feels like I learn from him even though he’d tell you the opposite is true. He’s my best friend." Your voice goes quiet, "I love my mate more than I love anyone else, but sometimes- Hobi just- gets me you know?" You go a little misty-eyed. Hands tightening on Hobi's sweatshirt.

“Yet he’s not the one sitting in my chair right now.”

You close your eyes, "he's not."

“For what it’s worth- you can have more than one best friend.” Dr. Rima writes as quickly as she can, taking it down. “How long have you been romantically involved with him? Who came first, your mate or him?”

You jolt forward, “Oh no- we’re not- Hobi and I aren't-" You take a deep breath to clarify. "Everyone else in the pack is together but Hobi and I are just friends. We all have our like… little units?”

"Primary partners." Dr. Rima offers.

"Yeah, that." But even that doesn't really cover it, because while Jin and Namjoon are JinandNamjoon and Jimin and Tae are JiminandTae. Jungkook is everyone's problem (in the best of ways) and you and Tae are something else too. The pack's girls the rest of them would say.

(You and Hobi are, well, YouandHobi.)

It sounds weird to say it once it comes out of your mouth. It makes an odd choked feeling lodge in your throat. Too much hope and too much shame for hoping blooming in your chest.

“I don’t know if I want to talk about him.”

She folds her hands over her knees, setting her pen down. Dr. Rima has chubby hands, disproportionate to her body. They look like they'd be soft.

She reminds you of your mom a little bit.

“That’s okay, we can talk about whatever you want. What you want and need is going to be the focus of our sessions. You’re the pilot here. I’m just here to help you interpret your thoughts and feelings.”

She folds her hands over themselves, setting her pen aside, “Why don’t we talk about the last time you remember feeling safe.”

"Physically or mentally?"

"Either, you can choose."

The rest of the session passes frightfully quickly. You can’t say that you don’t cry again. When you finally talk about Geumjae, her smile quickly dissipates. You talk and talk and talk until your throat is raw. Until you’ve depleted the whole box of her tissues. She shows you she's got more hidden under her desk when you apologize, her secret stash gets a laugh out of you.

“The fact that your pack omega filled out your paperwork isn’t the most unusual, but his preference for daily meetings or every other day is a little bit on the nose for a pack omega, I’m wondering if you share his preference.”

“He’s just overprotective.” She eyes you like Jin has good reason to be. You don’t blush this time, a little more comfortable with Dr. Rima than you were at the beginning of this. “I think maybe more than once a week but not every day.”

“How does Monday- Friday sound?”

~-~

When you walk to the door with Dr. Rima Yoongi stands abruptly from his chair.

You can tell by the shiny edge to his to his scent that he doesn't want to stay here any longer than necessary. He gets the information about your next appointment and then tugs you out the door.

Jins got his legs crossed, fancy leather shoes glinting in the sunlight by the windows. The lobby is buzzing with people coming and going. This building isn't just a therapy office but a collection of other businesses with a few shops and restaurants on the ground floor as well. He looks up and double-takes when he spots you, not standing from his chair, but he opens his arms and you fold yourself along his side, conscious of the other eyes but this.

This you need.

You press your face along the column of Jin's neck, breathing his cream scent in deep.

“Oh pup.”

Your red-rimmed eyes are too obvious and you sniffle wetly, “It was okay, I like Dr. Rima.” He laces your hands together and resists the urge to pester you with questions. Yoongi's hand is still tangled in the hood of your (Hobi's) sweatshirt. Your therapy sessions should be yours and only yours. Yoongi and Jin do not have Dr. patient confidentiality.

And yet the need to know if that helped burns through them. They won't have to wonder for long.

By the coffee stand, Jimin waves and he returns to you when the barista hands over a bag of sweets and a quad of cups. Jin continues scrawling something out for another second before he’s standing and pulling you in for another chaste scent mark.

“Let’s go home.” It's somewhere between an order and a request. But no one disobeys.

On the drive back (37 minutes total) you're a little quiet. You let the sounds of the others be your buffer. You look down at your phone and stare at Hobi’s texts. You respond with just a little heart emoji when you finally still can’t figure out a good response and you're close to home.

Home is its usual conflagration of moving bits and pieces. Each of your packmates is like a shiny cog in a pretty clock, tick tick tick tocking along. Tae and Namjoon are at the table looking through some of the pack’s bills, the pastries and coffee cups litter the table with little piles of powdered sugar and cinnamon. jimin bought enough for the whole pack.

You look at them a little too long, although not because you don't want to eat them. It’s been a while, a few weeks since you’ve made something like that, but every single one of the pastries is something you know how to make. You don’t know why you keep looking at them.

Tae smiles at you, still in the doorway. and it makes you feel a little less like you want to burst into tears. Her voice speaks of the quiet time you have in the library (the tenderness of having someone else do your makeup, another person combing your hair). You hope you'll get some dedicated one-on-one time with her soon.

"Hey little lovely, How was it?"

"She put me through the wringer but I think she got some suds out."

She and Namjoon giggle and you smile small. and you can tell that Namjoon wants to ask you more but he doesn't after a pointed look from your mate. There are footsteps in the hall and before you can move to take off your shoes Hobi is standing in the archway.

Yoongi efficiently strips you of Hobi's sweatshirt with a frustrated huff. It's Kind of like he’s trying to peel away the sadness (your clothes are soaked with your sour scent, rainy and unhappy. Regardless of Jin’s scent mark, you kind of stink).

You might have overheard their words just before you got into the car. Jin's hissed admonishment. “A lot of people cry during therapy Minnie, she’s not in trouble, can’t you smell it?”

Your scent is mellow underneath the memory of your distress, going sweeter by the second. Yoongi wants all memories of your sad scent banished from the house. Hobi stands at the door to the hallway, shifting back and forth, his eyes a little warmer than usual, hands shaking a little bit.

You’ve caught him looking at you a lot since the night he ran away, in the quiet moments when he thinks you’re not noticing. Eyes a shade warmer than usual, a sweetened franticness to his scent. Nervousness and happiness mix like blueberries and whipped cream.

When he pulls up beside you during movie nights and sits thigh to thigh with you. When his hands intertwine with yours over his knee or sometimes or when he pulls your legs sideways across his lap. He looks at you like that when he's doing the small things and he's looking at you like that right now.

You know how love starts, that it starts with the small things.

Hobi resists the urge to open his arms. would you come to him? Would you fold your body along his front so that he could feel your heartbeat? Pressing again and again to the opposite side of his chest with every thump?

He doesn’t say hey, but he does step a little closer. Fingers reaching out. The pad of his index finger slides down the meat of your pinky till it reaches the ball of your wrist. His own special hello.

Your breath hitches, just barely, almost imperceptible if it wasn’t for how close he stands.

A look behind you says Yoongi hasn’t made himself scarce, instead fussing with the pack's coats. Now that it’s getting colder, they don’t all fit by the door. You look behind Hobi and find Namjoon watching the three of you, he raises a singular eyebrow.

“How was it? Bad?” Hobi asks, breaking the silence and the tension, drawing your attention back to him. The next breath you let out is a lot less heavy, and your eyelashes flutter as he steps closer. Hobi smells good, a little earthy, mellowing out his usual sweetness. Sweet for an alpha.

“It was kind of hard, I kinda wanted to run away for a bit at the beginning." You can't keep meeting his eyes with how intensely he's looking at you and they flutter down to his hands. "I almost did.”

"I'm glad you didn't pup." Jin comments, full of reproach, the mirror to you and Hobi as he leans down to press a kiss to Namjoon's forehead. Shucking off his lapelled jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt.

“If you’d have called me, I’d have picked you up. We could still like- run away, if you're down.”

But the house is starting to heat up, and Jin and Yoongi are starting to cook. The light is still honey-yellow happy. And you tip your cheek into his arm. He finally- finally lets his arms settle around your waist.

“Nah, not yet.” You drag out the syllable all playful, and something forbidden stirs in Hobi’s gut. “Jin’s making my favorite tonight. not until later?”

Hobi goes silent, pulls back, biting his lips, eyes flickering from your eyes down. and-

You laugh and Hobi blushes. “Just spit it out.”

Everyone’s been a little bit touchier with you since that night (a little more overbearing too). You won’t immediately chalk Hobi's touchyness up to what you're all thinking. But the affection makes your scent gland feel tender. Zinging when Yoongi steps up behind you and nuzzles into it, huffing again.

Friends can hug each other after therapy right? Hobi swallows thickly and you feel it against your collar bone as he pulls back and steps away from you. “I ugh- got you a present?”

You brighten up instantly, and Hobi's anxiety increases tenfold. A bit of casual mischievousness on the edge of your lips that always have Hobi feeling like he’s being teased even though he knows he isn’t.

“Oh? A present? You’ve never gotten me a present before!”

He kicks at imaginary dust bunnies, fighting back what he knows is a noticeable flush. “I ugh- still owe you, from the car you know and honestly it's not even like a big gift it's like- so small in comparison and-”

Yoongi huffs and continues to disrobe you. Pulling your sweater over your head when he’s not satisfied that your unhappy scent has dissipated. Muttering something like. “hopeless alpha” under his breath. Your tank top pulls up, inches of your hip and skin on display. It's nothing that Hobi hasn't seen before and yet the blush reignites. The sunshine to your morning glory.

“I guess you're right.” But it doesn’t feel like it. Hobi doesn’t owe you anything for that, not when it was so easy to give. Not when you’ve gotten so many late-night drives from that gift.

Hoseok got the idea for your courting gift, one morning while watching you say goodbye to Namjoon:

The pack alpha has always been a fan of goodbye kisses, good morning, and goodnight kisses too. The particular kiss that morning had ‘I’ll miss you’ written all over it. It was so pretty in the way that you lingered, arms around Namjoon’s neck. His hand is underneath your shirt on the small of your back. Such a small touch and yet so gently possessive that it had Hobi aching to see it.

Hobi is unfortunately prone to jealousy and it turns the back of his neck hot. Makes his hands feel oddly tender. He's distracted by the visual, the task of packing up his work bag forgotten. Hoseok’s shift at the flower shop doesn’t start for another few hours, and he’s waiting, watching, an unhappy voyeur.

You and Namjoon have quite the height difference, if he was in between the two of you he’d be the perfect middle ground. That’s just another stupid thought, another stupid thought in the countless number of stupid thoughts that he’s had. (I like my alphas a little pathetic, and nothing's more pathetic than an alpha pining after an omega.)

He grumbles.

Yoongi prattles on, more awake than all of them as he outlines what you have to do today to make progress on the house- which is to go find a place that sells cheaper tile than the ones you first thought of using in the bathroom on the first floor. And maybe change it up a little.

The bathrooms escaped the renovations somehow, and a few nights ago- Jimin had admitted how much they actually use it even though it’s not the pack's primary bathroom anymore. Now that it’s not in use, they’re more willing to part with it for a few days for some very necessary re-styling. it toes the line from vintage to old a little too hard. The yellow is a little…yellow.

Yoongi wants to go light and airy with the color scheme, like he did with the upstairs bathroom and it's seafoam and brown tones. But like with most of the house, your vote is for colorful. “How about a light blue-” Yoongi continues to argue while you kiss Namjoon a little senseless in the doorway, at least Namjoon seems properly dazed, chasing your lips when you pull apart.

“No- we don’t have a room that’s magenta yet!”

This starts the same argument as always; “We can’t make every room in this house pink for Tae.”

But goodbyes take precedence, and when you turn back and smile at Hobi he flushes, shy to be caught looking. He moves, stepping around you and Namjoon to put his water bottle into his bag when you shout, “Stop, Seokie!”

Seokie is a new nickname, one that Jin only uses in the quietest of moments that you've somehow adopted when you don't want to call him Hobi. Hobi always thought that if you’d use any other nickname with him- you’d use daisy (he might want you and yoongi to share that pet name). But he’s a good pup and stops what he’s doing. Every atom in his body every electron no longer circulates neutrons but circulates you instead. Pulled in by your gravity.

You’ve moved so suddenly that you’ve spilled a bit of your coffee onto the floor. Maybe kissing Namjoon has left you feeling a little dizzy too. Yoongi just sighs fondly and wipes it up. Jimin looks up from his phone, smiling when he sees.

“You’ve got a rainbow on your cheek.”

It’s a trick of the light, early morning sunshine refracted through the mottled window just right to cast a single rainbow on the wall and on Hobi when he steps in front of it.

You cup his cheek, finger skimming across where the rainbow sits.

"Pretty."

Hobi feels hot all over.

At Tae’s call of, “If I have to do my eyeliner one more time I’m going to scream!” You giggle and dart away from him. Going to tend to Tae with a soft reply of "I've got you baby."

Hoseok is left, blushing in the morning light. Staying still like you might come by and cup his cheek again, Like a flower staying still in the hope of pollination.

Hobi is left, wanting to scream and somehow demand you back, both would be fair. His plight isn't missed by his packmates, who lean in like a set of jackals, grinning ear to ear at hobi's flustered predicament.

She's going to send him into rut if she's not careful Jin thinks, but doesn't say. instead he teases, “You’ve got to leave in the next ten-minute Hobi.”

Only then does Hoseok move- released from his spell and finally losing the rainbow on his cheeks though they might as well have stayed with how happy and warm he feels. How absolutely incandescent the love is glowing in his chest. A full spectrum of feelings, longing for you to come back.

He almost trips over noodle, darting after you with his tail raised high, catching himself on the edge of the couch at the last second, one shoe on and one off, his water bottle falling and spilling in the process.

yoongi sighs, and stoops to wipe it up. Jimin giggles and pulls Hobi up by his hips, the alpha's fingers feel hot where they've touched him, scalding. “What’s wrong, omega got your tongue?” yoongi returns to his breakfast, throwing the wad of soggy paper towels into the trash.

Jungkook laughs, “It’s more like he wants an omega to have his tongue in her-“

“You guys are gross,” He pushes at Jimin’s shoulder finally moving right. Yoongi hides his smile in a mouthful of Captain Crunch.

Hobi doesn’t think about the rainbows again until his next afternoon shift. When the low angle of the autumn sun cuts through the windows and catches the suncatchers that they hang in the doorway of the flower shop and cast more rainbows- dozens of them really across him and the flower.

He remembers when you came to visit, how you'd lingered over them, looked at them a second longer than you looked at the plants.

It’s a bit of a kitschy display. Other polished stones and nick nacks sitting on the deep shelf along with some smaller potted plants. A little tray of rose-quartz stones falsely advertises themselves as ‘heat reducers.’

The colors start to blend, and the rainbows sway softly in the light, gentle and pretty. He snaps a photo and thinks about sending it to you, but doesn’t.

The store is blissfully empty of Hobi's coworkers when he selects three of them. It's quiet when he packages them in tissue paper, one with a huge pink stained-glass moon at the top, another with three tiers. Each of them is delicate and pretty in their own right. No one’s bought a single one of them in the last three months anyway. They'll hardly be missed. Hobi gives himself a fat employee discount.

Hobi is unfortunately bad at hiding things, especially when he's nervous. Luckily the pack alpha doesn’t have it in him to tease. Namjoon had in fact been only too encouraging and given him a pep talk just this morning about courting and courting presents.

“The worst that can happen is that she doesn’t like it- and then you just have to try again which you were already planning on doing anyway.” Namjoon is quite simply the best at courting. It doesn't matter which subgender; alphas, beta’s, and omegas have all fallen under his touch. At least Hoseok has the opportunity to learn from a professional. Somehow the thought that you'd compare him to namjoon doesn't cross his mind.

Hoseok isn’t good at the romantic gestures that courting necessitates. He’s more of the ‘there when you need him’ kind of lover. Ready to make the small changes to make his loved ones' lives more manageable. Ready with his car keys for adventures. Those parts are easy, this is out of his depth.

Especially when it comes to you. Even After the love confessions, (are confessions still confessions if they’re so internal?) Hobi feels mostly unmoored. About to shatter upon unknown shores.

God, crushes are so frustrating (in the best kind of way, the way that keeps you sighing and daydreaming, the kind of way that makes you look in the mirror a little longer).

Tae helped him half an hour before she started on the pack's paperwork. They'd spent an hour deciding which places were best to hang them to get the greatest number of rainbows. She had even fussed with his hair a little to make it lie right. Having him hop up on the couch so she could see Hobi's face from your angle.

Hobi wanted to make sure there were at least one or two rainbows when he shows you. But when he leads you to the sunroom, his hands over your eyes (the same position you found yourself in when Namjoon surprised you with the nesting pod) there are more of them than there were when he set them up, whole constellations swaying softly.

The suncatchers are pretty and twinkly sparkly in the golden hour light, and your lips part in a simple show of awe when Hobi tells you you can open your eyes. It's so bright, they send dozens of little rainbows across the walls and your nesting pod. Over the white couch and the fig in the corner.

It’s very very pretty. and when you turn back to look a thim, Hobi once again has a rainbow on his cheek.

Your eyes twinkle, but you don't say anything. you stay quiet for long enough that Hobi gets nervous. his anxiety makes him talk fast. “I hung them here- but you can put them wherever you want- in the kitchen or upstairs or I can get you more for any places you want to put them- or- or- ”

You just about tackle him, arms looping around his neck resting your weight in his arms that instinctively grip around your waist. Hobi teeters, unsteady with such a heavy heart, toppling both of you onto the couch as you cry. "I love it!"

You’re sprawled not lying across him but his hand goes out to support the way you cling and rub your face into his chest, a happy little chirp slipping past your lips.

The wild thing in Hobi’s chest settles, settles, and curls around you. Tight and protective like a vice. You pull back, and your smile is just as bright.

Hobi sags, and rests his neck back against the couch, "Good- thank fucking god- I was so fucking nervous-" You fiddle with the buttons on his flannel, it's one of Yoongi's. It seems fitting that you steal his clothes and he steals Yoongi's.

"What brought all this on?"

Hobi doesn't have a good answer, in the quiet with the rainbows, or at least an answer he's ready for. He doesn't say that this is a courting present, and he doesn't need to because instead of answering your question- he replies with one of his own.

“Wanna go for a drive later?” he asks, voice tremulous like he thinks you might refuse him. You’ve never said no to him before, never said not tonight only not right now. Do you treasure our little talks the same way I do?

“Sure, after dinner? like I said? Just-" You lean back against his chest, and Hobi’s hands go tight tight tight around your waist. Holding you close. Clingy. He does not slip his hand under your shirt to cup the side of your hip the way that Namjoon might, but the thought crosses his mind.

Hobi is a good alpha, he won't cross that line until you tell him it's okay. Until then a thin layer of fabric separates his skin from yours. You're still warm to the couch.

“Sit and watch them with me?” You ask quietly. Almost shy, like you think he’d refuse you. He nods and the two of you sit on the couch to look at the rainbows together.

Eventually, Noodle finds the two of you, meowing and hopping up to stretch out along your thighs. Worming his way between the two of you.

The rainbows don't last forever, but Hobi sits with you until they fade.

~-~

Tae’s library is just like every public library:

Tall windows, wide quiet shelves with room for the stories to breathe. A colorful young adult section and an even more colorful kid’s section. A bit aways from the tables and computers so that any over-excited pups don’t disturb the adults. Big deep beanbags for small children to cuddle up to while they ponder fairy tales and adventures only a plastic-covered book away.

Tae’s long plaid skirt barely makes a whisper along the ground. The colder weather has allowed her to live all of her cottage core fantasies, her dark academia aesthetic truly flourishing. Her shirt is a little translucent today, and the fading summer tan of her skin pokes through it in spots where her tank top doesn't hide. Pretty long earrings dangle and clink in the quiet while she works on her shelving.

Wearing her chosen clothing items at work has been a bit of a work in progress.

Most of Tae’s coworkers approve of her transition in that overly willing-to-be-an-ally way that middle-aged women who generally consider themselves progressive outside of closed doors all do. And the ones that don’t approve have swallowed their words with lingering sour eyes and raised upper lips after the general receptiveness to Tae’s social transition.

It's hard to know who's genuine with it, who just doesn't want to cause a fuss, and who just doesn't give a shit. But most of the time her outfits get one or two compliments and thats it. Tae would rather them say nothing than anything negitive.

Tae likes the quiet of the library at this time of day, the silence gives her enough room to let her imagination wander. Tae likes to file away books in mid-morning, when there are fewer people around and her humming is less likely to disturb any of the library’s patrons. She sings to the stories and they sing back, tempting her with every well-worded title and delicately chaste summary.

But she doesn’t just think about stories or the book she's writing (her book is currently giving her hell on the 30th chapter) No. Today- there is a much more interesting love story blooming in her head, in the pack's den too.

She’s been thinking about you all morning (Tae thinks about you almost every morning) there are even little poems scrawled on the edge of her newspaper. Lines that are you and a bit of Hobi too.

I wished that I might be your hair clip / to know what it feels like / to be pressed against the nape of your neck/ To be your suntan/ perched on the edge/ of what you show everyone and what you show no one/ To be the bearer of every freckle/ like the sky holds the stars/ To hold and never let go/ Like birds hold sunshine / and flowers hold songs.

Everyone had noticed of course, how much time you and Hobi have been spending together.

The pack had even talked about it during a quiet moment without you and Hobi. Yoongi’s lack of communication regarding you and Hobi. “I don’t know anything” he’d unsuccessfully lied, and nearly been heaved up and wrestled to the couch as a result. But Jungkook’s puppy eyes had unsuccessfully endeared him.

Yoongi has kept Hobi's secret, but it's kind of hard not to notice. Tae isn't a fool. Tae is a much better liar than Yoongi is- because when you'd come to her after your late-night drive to gush with her about Hobi and the rainbows over makeup. She hadn't said anything about what she knows.

Tae couldn’t tell you how many times she’d noticed little touches, Hobi’s hand lingering on the small of your back, grabbing your waist when he moved behind you in the bathroom. When he take the greatest care to set out his sweatshirts in the morning and even asks Jungkook to make sure they’re clean. They’re practically not even his sweatshirts anymore with the amount you’ve been wearing them.

Tae isn’t an idiot, she knows that Hobi’s finally realized it. While she doesn’t trust herself to play matchmaker given how poorly the first time she pointed out Hobi’s attraction went. that doesn’t mean she’s not going to park herself firmly on the edge of her fantasy land with a box of popcorn.

If they were gonna get married, would Hobi wear a red tux or black or grey? Her brain is already thinking of wedding dresses. One of these days she’s really going to have to make a Pinterest board. Hobi would probably want to do sunflowers, and that might clash with the red unless it was a fall wedding- ooh, and what about pearl details and daisies? a beach wedding might be a little too on the nose for you.

Tae is so absorbed with her shelving and her daydreaming that she doesn’t notice the sound of small shoes on the carpeted floor. Nor does she notice the light-up flash of tiny iorn man sneakers. Her musings are easily interrupted by a small tug on her skirt, shy almost. She startles a little, looking down at the sudden touch.

The little pup's thumb is wet from where it was clearly placed behind their bucked teeth. He's got wide brown eyes and soft-looking hair, Tae can't stop the smile that comes to her lips.

“I wanted to read a book but I couldn’t reach, can you help me? Please?”

Tae’s heart swells as she leans down to the pup's level. “Of course, I can! Why don’t you show me what one you wanted,” diligently Tae follows the little one a few isles over, tugged along by their insistent pulling as he tells her about the pretty cover.

The little pup turns back, furrowing his bushy brows up at Tae, “are you a princess?” he asks. Tae almost has to laugh, a bright happy gender euphoric feeling filling her chest, that feeling of I could be filling her.

She makes her whisper just a little more hushed, playing along, “Don’t tell anyone okay? It's a secret.” The little pup nods, eyes darting around like there are dragons that would threaten her.

“What gave me away?”

“Princesses wear long skirts!” the pup says cheerfully, like it makes the most sense in the world. He's a little too loud and Tae winces. He finally finds the shelve with the story. The spine glimmers pink and gold and Tae is unsurprised to find the illustrated copy of Cinderella. Not the Disney or PJ version, but the Brothers Grimm version.

Tae cringes at the pair of doves on the cover.

Tae doesn’t say that the little pup is too small to read a book so big, or that there is one with more pictures much more appropriate away from the young adult section. The child can’t be more than 6 years old.

But still, Tae retrieves it and delivers it to their waiting arms. The little one clutches it to his chest, thanks Tae, and then promptly plops themselves onto the carpeted floor right there.

He opens the first page, huffs, and then looks up at her imploringly.

“I just realized I can’t read.”

He pouts and Tae melts. Tae wonders where the pup's mother is, but really, there certainly can't be much harm in this. This isn't the first time Tae has been guilted into reading a story to a pup while their parents work or make use of the library's computers.

"Just the first page.” She intones, caution for the child’s hopes in her voice, she presses her skirt under her knees and sits on the scratchy carpet. The pup curls close to see the pictures. Resting his tiny chubby cheek in the billow of Tae’s big puffy sleeve.

Tae's chest is all tight as she reads. The pup is very well-behaved, he pauses, and asks questions in a soft voice only when Tae gives him space to respond. Tae easily ommits the parts that aren't appropriate. but tae finds herself watching the pup a little bit more as the minutes stretch.

In a few years with your own little ones around, will Tae become the defacto bedtime story reader? Will she do this with the pack's pups one day? Will she be the one to take that bright little light in their eyes that imagines things as greater and more and cultivate it? Her cheeks feel warm at the prospect, heart beating like a hummingbird's wings in excitement.

Your pups and Jin's pups too- they're gonna be so loved. Tae's gonna be the best mom to them, The best alpha too.

One page turns into two and then three. In this quiet corner with only Tae’s voice as ruler and god, the little pup hinges on every word. Until there’s another voice close by. An adult not wishing to be loud, a whispered name.

“Jae?”

Tae smiles up at the woman at the end of the aisle of books. Her smile turns sweeter when Jae hops up and runs to press his face into her jeaned thighs. Tae remembers how that felt, how every scent besides Tae’s own omega mother felt overwhelming and icky.

Tae stands with a crack of her knees and makes to hand over the book, “This makes a great bedtime story until about chapter 8, that one you might want to skip until he’s a little older.”

The woman makes to smile, but it only goes so far. Tae watches in perfect detail, everything in slow motion, as her eyes flicker down to Tae’s Addams apple.

She drags her child close by their wrist quicker than Tae can blink. Tae sees the moment that the child realizes this touch isn’t gentle, wide eyes going fear-stricken as he's tugged behind her back. And then it's all downhill from there.

I'll spare you the more vile bits.

But the saddest moment of the argument that follows (Which involves not one but three of Tae's co-workers to calm down the hysterical woman whose screeches echo around the quiet library) is when the pup tries to get his mother's attention. "Mom, I liked that she was reading to me."

"He" the certified Karen hisses, moving in a way that makes the pup flinch back. "-should know better than to corrupt a pup with such- such-" her eyes dart down and up, and Tae's skin burns. "Disgusting behavior."

The misgendering doesn't even sting. What does hurt is the eyes peering in. She isn't being quiet and it's causing many of the library's patrons' attention is diverted. Tae's coworkers have put themselves between Tae and the woman. But there still aren't enough people (enough packmates) in between her and the verbal tirade.

An hour later, after the woman has left after threatening to call the police, Tae talks with his boss and his boss’s boss. The room behind the front desk is glass, and he knows that the door doesn’t keep the sound of their raised voice out.

“I wasn’t harassing her child; I was just helping him find a book for Christ sake!”

The worst part is that this isn’t the first time that this has happened. No- since Tae came out there have been two other complaints leveled against her from bigoted patrons. Both right at the beginning before she got the hang of presenting how she wanted to.

At least those confrontations weren’t face-to-face. At least those complaints didn’t end with someone threatening to call the police and a pup cowering, tugged along too roughly out the door.

The little pup had glanced back at Tae, mouth in pout, eyes swimming with tears.

Even if the woman felt righteous in her anger, the least she could have done was not yell in front of the pup. Tae promises herself right then and there, that she'll never raise her voice in front of the pack's pups, not in anger.

The book has stayed on the counter at the front. Pink and gold and treacherous. Tae hopes that if anything, the pup finds it and reads the ending one day. Stories have a way of finding us, even when the world makes us let them go.

Now in the back room behind the check-out counter. Tae’s boss levels her with an expectant look, the kind that people give when they don’t want to be transphobic not really- it’s just so hard for them not to, so learned. Tae is the nail that sticks up. It’s bullshit really. Tae can tell it's bullshit before she opens her mouth.

“Really? He asked for Cinderella?”

“Yes.” Tae’s biting tone is an alpha’s tone, not a man’s, and yet she knows how it sounds.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m not lying.” Is Tae supposed to only help some children find the books they want? Is she supposed to look at them and make her best guess if they’ve got homophobic parents and skip them over? It’s not her fault that the sweet sweet pup’s parent was a bigot.

“I can’t help but feel like- you’ve got a personal agenda-“

"Charlie-" the district manager cautions.

Tae can’t stop herself from snapping, alpha anger sparking with the intent to burn. “Little boys should be allowed to read Cinderella if they want to” Rats and all. Her hands are shaking, and it isn’t missed by them. The room smells thick with Tae’s spicy cinnamon anger.

The district manager sets her hand on Tae's shoulder, and her anger ebbs just a little. “I think maybe you should go home a little early today, just to cool off. We can talk about it more tomorrow.”

Tae doesn’t want to go home early, Tae doesn’t want to go home at all as she packs up her books. Her bag lighter than usual, absent of the stories that she wants to take home. For once there aren’t any that she wants to read.

She walks to the train station because Jimin won’t be off work for another 2 hours and that’s when he’d usually pick her up, the last three days he’s gotten her flowers too; white roses the first day, pink the second, and red the third. She sends him a text.

Tae <3 (1:48): I left work early today, you don’t have to pick me up, I’ll get an Uber home.

Mini-alpha (1:49):!!!!!

Mini-alpha (1:49): What happened? Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up? I can leave now.

Tae sighs, looking down at her phone while she waits for the crosswalk light to come on. Red still, green in a few seconds, she only has to wait. She can practically feel Jimin's nervous energy through the phone. it's a wonder he doesn't immediately call her.

It makes her soft. It isn't in Jimin's nature to give any of his lovers any space but he always makes an effort when it comes to her.

Tae <3 (1:53): No. It’s fine. I’ll talk to you when you get home.

Tae doesn’t want to talk to Jimin about transphobia again. At least not yet. It’s too much energy. It’s not that Tae doesn’t want to make what happened during Namjoon’s rut better. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk about it- it’s just that there’s nothing to talk about, the explanation of his actions are such a burden for Tae to bear. And Tae trusts that Jimin’s heart is in the right place even if he makes mistakes. And even telling Jimin off, yelling at him, wouldn’t change it.

Either one day Tae will not have to deal with bigoted parents, either one day she’ll pass and won’t have to worry, or she'll always be in this awkward middle ground.

Trans people are like toupees, you only notice them when there’s something off, something a little misplaced about them. Tae fears that most of all. Femininity, as much as she wants it, as much as it's hers to take, what if it won't ever fit right? What if she never passes?

Tae loves her job at the library, it’s the perfect mix of boring and safe and easy even if it doesn’t pay enough. But even as she's gained things like skirts and puffy sleeves, she's exchanged them for days like today. Really, the library was her favorite place before today and now, every step away from it makes her feel a little lighter. She's not even angry anymore, just exhausted mentally.

Tae decides to walk home at least she’s in her most conservative channel flats, they could use a little bit more wear and love and Tae’s thoughts are still too sharp. She dulls them to a palatable edge that all falls apart when she gets home.

You’re there, thank fucking god you’re always there when she gets home. You’ll always be Tae’s comfort person.

Tae opens the door with a creek and push of cold air, you're saying something to Yoongi turning with a toss of your hair, eyes brightening when you see her before you've even said her name.

You look a little healthier today, with a little bit more of a rosy glow to your cheeks and a healthy brightness to your eyes, not all glassy.

"Tae! You're home early!"

Tae will never stop being proud of how hard you try, and will never stop being a bit envious either because Tae-

Tae looks at you and wilts, bag flopping onto the floor, and predictably burst into tears.

"Oh- oh Tae."

"Baby girl-"

You and Yoongi are just about the best security blanket a packmate could ask for. You're so good as you pull her down to your level so you can kiss away her tears, maneuvering her like a perfect team onto the couch. Yoongi's strong hands slide off her shoes. Yoongi's fingers digging into her sore heel as you kiss away her every tear.

A substantial amount of babying and a Sos packmate in distress text later, and Tae is reclining across a freshly fluffed nest, the muscles in her body relaxed. The blisters on the back of her feet are bandaged and kissed. Every inch of her body is too.

You don't talk about it until after the pack's facemasks are finished, and hobi's clear coat has dried over the tiny nail sticker that you left. a small bumblebee.

Your skin smells sweet after a long long bath full of fancy bath bombs. Jinnie had also rubbed oil onto her freshly shaven legs. You helped, dragging it along oh so carefully to not nick her skin. Ending each pass with a kiss to her ankle and then upper thigh.

Tae’s head is in your lap now, cheek pressed against your (slightly chubbier) thighs. Her sniffles the background music as Tae gives her final recap of what happened.

Your nose gets a wrinkle in it when you go cross. "There's so much meanness to the world, I hate how people have to add to it."

Jimin’s anger leaves an undercurrent in the air, dragging the other alphas along, Hobi’s hands are strong where they dig into Tae’s shoulders, belly down in the nest while you play with her hair, braiding it back and forth. The attention makes her feel a little tingly.

“Do you know what her name was? Did you get a look at her car-“ Jimin asks, nearly barking. The library has cameras. Jimin knows it does.

Jin sets a hand on the back of his neck, a scruff threatening. “Down pup. Tae doesn’t need you to track them down.” Jimin’s teeth look particularly sharp in the light. For a face so soft he has quite the mouth on him.

“They made her sad,” he growls, but it's softer, more pointed as he crouches over her.

Namjoon’s quiet voice unlocks the whole world's worries, massaging gently down the column of Tae’s delicate neck, rough hands, worn tender touching her regardless. Namjoon is rarely ever so pointed, but it's logical, from an alpha's perspective, Tae knows what he hints.

"I think that if your bosses aren't going to protect you from people like that, then I want you to leave your job." Jin gives him a look like, 'Now you know where I'm coming from' but Tae's the important packmate right now.

Tae rolls Namjoon's words around her tongue, her hand loosely twined with his. Namjoon has the steadiest hands out of everyone in the pack and a few minutes ago he repurposed his surgery skills to do her nails. Took off the chipped red and re-did them because Namjoon knows she feels best when her claws are polished. He checks them now. Tapping them lightly to not smudge them.

It's a girl's night, the first girl's night you've ever had with the whole pack. Tae's face is still glossy from the face mask.

“I don’t think I want to quit; I don’t think that would help at all that’s not going to like- solve the world and all its issues.”

“No, but- if it’s making you more sad than happy. Then maybe it’s worth considering.”

Tae knows Namjoon’s not saying that she doesn’t make enough to affect the pack's finances, but that's still the truth. Hobi pulls himself along her other side and you watch him with heavy-lidded eyes.

Hobi presses a kiss to Tae's temple, “All you want to do is write every day anyways, and we just want you to be happy,” 6 heads nod their agreement.

Hobi isn't wrong; The last four weekends in a row Tae has woken up several hours earlier than the pack would usually stir from morning cuddles, just to get a few hours of uninterrupted writing done. She’s also spent nearly every night in her library room, staying up late after the pack has retired upstairs until one of you comes down and wrangles her upstairs. The pack's prettiest alpha needs her beauty sleep.

But is it enough to count on? Is it worth quitting her job over?

You duck down low, kissing the same spot Hobi did, your lips touching just a Tae away. a heavy breath wooshes out of her chest. "Yeah why wouldn't we want you to quit? If you're always here then I can always do this."

Your kiss is gentle, and it tastes like belonging more than Tae would ever be able to write, to describe. A love that makes you feel like you belong is a rare thing. And Tae's hand goes up to tangle in your hair, keeping you there for just a shared breath longer.

The next breath tastes a bit like freedom. It's scary to be free.

(But Tae leaves her 2 weeks' notice on her boss’s desk before the end of the next work day, and she doesn't feel bad about it one bit).

~-~

(1 year prior)

Maybe the truth is that the reason why you don’t feel you deserve agency is because you know what your agency looks like. The choices you’re willing to make when it comes down to it.

The secrets you tell and the lies you have buried deep in your pocket like one of Hobi’s found things. Something you can’t get rid of and cast back into the ocean. No matter how hard you try. There is something about murder that sticks, that stays no matter how many times you try to wash your hands of it.

It's not guilt, because you don't feel guilty for what you had to do.

Being backed into a corner can make someone do a whole hell of alot of monstrous things. And back then Life was monotonous. Back then there was Anguish without change.

Your life went like this: Go home. Get beaten. Get hurt. Get Raped. Wake up. Meet up with Hyejin. Make poison. Make pastries. Go to the Don’s house. Feed it to them. Listen to Moonbyul tell you to wait. Go home. Get beaten again and again. Get raped every night. On and on and on.

Clean up your blood from the tiles. Clean it from the carpet. Hydrogen peroxide and not bleach. Cover the bruises up with color corrector first before you put concealer over them.

Smile and tell everyone that your husband and you are perfectly happy. There will be a pup on the way soon enough, I'm so lucky to have someone who supports me, and I'm so lucky to have a love like this.

Go home. Get beaten. Get hurt. Get Raped. Go to sleep and don't cry because then he'll beat you for keeping him awake.

In the darkness that curls around you. Blood going tacky between your legs, you start to dream of wicked sweet things.

What you've been through would be enough to make anyone go crazy, Enough to make anyone consider drastic action. Enough to make anyone consider murder.

Enough for you to slide a pair of small syringes off of Moonbyul’s night desk and a small packet of arsenic too. You know how to make a simple syrup. You know how to mix in arsenic to it, how to make it liquid soluble without breathing it in.

You make it in the fine china and break it after so that you can throw it out without worrying. You get a beating for it but you hardly feel it when Geumjae drags you across the floor by your hair. It hardly breaks your heart when he steps on your ribcage with the intent to break bones because you know what you have to do.

After, with your own blood on your teeth, you make sure to leave it in the bottom of the trash, and ask the cleaning staff not to take it out yet. They're supposed to find it.

You don't care if you die, you just want to make sure the necessary villains are punished. When it comes to blame the person who is most to blame is you anyway. You are simply numb to pain, numb to your own anguish. Numb to the idea of your own death too. Geumjae's already killed you in every way that matters.

Cut off a wolf's head and it still has the power to bite; give a girl an enemy and she'll do dangerous things.

Your meetings with the Don and beta always go the same; gossip, and greetings. Sometimes when you come bearing bruises, they tell you to wait just a little longer.

Go home. Get beaten. Get hurt. Get Raped. Wake up. Just give it time for his temper to settle. Once you're mated it will get better.

Even Moonbyul and Hyejin tell you that planning the perfect crime takes time. That you'll be saved if you only wait. Help is coming.

Bullshit.

You’re tired of waiting for him to kill you, you're tired of waiting to die. You're smarter than all of them because you know exactly how to get everything you want and you're willing to do anything to get it.

The next time Moonbyul and Hyejin take you to the Don and Beta’s house under the guise of afternoon tea, you are prepared for war and dressed with revenge in mind. Your white dress knotted at the shoulders falling in a heavenly sheet, like an avenging angel, neither pious nor sinful.

You are a force of nature and nature does not ask when it takes lives.

What’s worse; the people that enable the abusers or the abusers themselves? Who is more to blame for the pain caused?

You are no longer hiding and you won't let them hide this time. The bruise on your cheek is purple and mottled, the rings of bruises on your wrists from his hands while he held you down.

When you smiled at Geumjae over breakfast this morning, there was only one thought in your mind.

You’re next.

Your agency looks like this; elegantly done hair your skirt a little short for fall. A basket of arsenic-backed goods in a basket as is usual. Fluffy pink cupcakes with the perfect Swiss meringue buttercream in little spirals.

A gentle smile at the beta when she opens her doors for you, letting the monster in, because you’ve been over enough times that she trusts you. You suppose that's your doing too, you've fooled her into thinking you're just another idiot girl who decided to marry rich and didn't bother to consider the strings attached. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, you bare your teeth when you smile.

Hyejin has helped on that front; over the past few months, she has taught you exactly the kind of conversation that the beta likes- the useless conversations about family drama, the small little bits that you let through about your husband’s opinion on which pup is marrying whom, which alpha is good or bad for the packs near dozen omega pups that aren’t mated yet. Which alphas are likely to be a liability? This kind of gossip is all information and strategy.

You might have lied in your call to her and told her you were fearful of one of the younger ones- and a conversation you’d happened to witness on a street corner, a shadowy figure that looked a little too severe not to be the authorities. Of course, these kinds of things have to be handled with discretion and ginseng tea.

The Don does not bother to turn down the TV when you walk in, sitting vulnerable in his recliner with his feet up. It doesn’t appear that he has any sort of inclination or plans to interact with you when you sit here at his kitchen table and talk. Instead, he lounges and watches his sports, loud because his hearing is so bad, nearly deafening.

It’s good. hopefully anyone nearby will not overhear.

You hope that if this goes south before you have a chance to confess that they find the letter you wrote at home; the one that says your husband is the one that put you up to this.

You know that the pack’s retribution will be swift, that any sort of alibi he has will be null and void with the evidence you’ve been leaving. A little trail of breadcrumbs that leads right into a pretty little grave for your husband. Even if you won't be around to see it.

You're already a friend of pain. You already find comfort in it. If they kill you (which they will) then at least it will finally be over.

You wait until the moment you know is coming, when the Don looks over his shoulder at you and comands “Be a dear and bring me one.”

You put one of your artfully created confections on a pretty gold-rimed plate and walk to his side, you lean over to put it in his lap as he indicates. the same way he does every time you come over with sweets.

The lingering hand on your ass is hardly abnormal. behind you the beta's tea cup clinks as she sets her tea down and says nothing. even though you know she notices.

He’s so busy coping a feel he doesn’t notice your other hand, going to the syringe duck taped to your thigh.

It happens quicker than the Don can blink. The most powerful man in the underworld can't be bothered to protect his life for a pretty little piece of ass. You smile down at him, and his hand squeezes the round apple of your behind.

His hand is still on your ass when you whip your arm around with as much force as you can and drive the syringe and plunger into his neck.

You must have hit something in his neck because he barely has a second to splutter before he’s going still and quiet. Mouth falling horrifyingly slack. His breath rattles and his eyes dart as his whole body is paralyzed near instantly, in the time it takes for his blood to circulate.

Two paces, swing, plunge.

The beta barely has a second to scream or stand to attack you. You are so much younger than they are. Your body might be fragile and frail but It’s still stronger than hers. Her brief scream is easily drowned out by the scratch of the TV.

She ends up on the floor, the icing on the cupcakes sticky as she falls into half of them, tossed onto the floor by your brief tussle as you straddle her struggling form. Her pushing gets weaker and weaker and she sobs.

It doesn’t surprise you when you see the black tracery of a dying mating mark itching up her skin.

One thing that the family had always been oh so careful of was to talk only in their mother tongue around you. Secrets are best kept when they’re spoken in foreign tongues. It was a way to isolate you. To make them speak English for you to understand felt like a beholden request. At one point It was a point of insecurity for you, always left out of the loop, always relying on your husband to keep you in the know.

You bend over her as her pushing gets weaker and weaker, the arsenic doing its job, causing numbness and the tingling of extremities before it causes paralysis and then coma and death. Your hair falls in a sheet over the beta’s face.

You’ve studied much over the last few months. Enough that you lean in close over her and speak your words in perfect Korean.

“You look so angry,” you croon softly, dragging a finger down her cheek. Spittle froths at her mouth as she breathes heavily. “You shouldn’t- if you want someone to blame you only need to look in the mirror.”

You lean in close until your lips brush her ear, “it's your fault you see- you're the one who lied" you mimic her voice, making it scratchy, "'just wait a little longer, it will be better for the family if you stay quiet." you laugh, "as if that where true, the only person it benefits is you. You where ready to let him hurt me and kill me if i just stayed quiet."

You wipe away a bit of spit from her lower lip, "You always told me how it was your duty to protect the family- but you only serve yourself. If you'd have done something, if you'd have helped me I wouldn't have had to do this. You just wanted me to shut up and die quietly.”

You switch back to English, “Well now it’s your turn.”

You watch her tongue go numb, paralyzed, but the poison hasn’t advanced far enough for her not to speak.

“Fucking- worthless bitch.”

You laugh and stand brushing some crumbs from your skirt. She’s already too weak to move, to shout, or fight you. You watch the light start to leave her eyes, winking out so slowly, like a dying star. But she still looks so pissed.

“You don’t have a right to be angry, you killed me first. You can’t blame me for fighting back.”

She gives her last breath and the TV plays on. Your shoe ticks her hand, her fingers twitching weakly. You watch as she gasps her last breath, a small smile on your face.

You sit at the table and turn the TV down. You wait a few minutes, but it quickly becomes an hour. You have yourself a nice little treat while you watch, turning the channel to a food network while you eat.

You really are a fantastic cook. The crumb on this batch is so nice you don’t even taste the metallic tang of poison. You eat through one, and then another, until the whole basket is empty.

Before you know it there is a concerned knock at the door. The lock clicks and turns when you answer it.

When Moonbyul opens the door, you laugh at the expression on her face. Licking the frosting from your lips. Even that is delicious.

She takes in their bodies, crumpled on the floor the frosting on your cheeks. The evidence. Both of them dying. A violence you cannot undo.

Her voice is somber. “Oh Pup, what have you done?”

~-~

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Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

~-~

Notes:

this chapter is a very classic bily chapter, in the fact that there is a fuck ton of fluff and then bang the mafia bits just take you out. we needed to get back into the mafia bits of the story sooner rather than later though 💀

i felt like i was going a little too over the top with certain bits of puptalk in this chapter, but i really wanted to use it to show that like yeah- the pack has been treating her alot more gently since her breakdown, they've been babbying the fuck out of her, even if we don't get to see it :(

Hobi's texts are so???? Fucking cute?? He's so hopeless my god he wants to make her feel loved without actually saying it and i hope you read them and just go "oh, you're an idiot."

I have this whole elaborate backstory to how wonho's gym works with monthly subscriptions to classes where people can decide how many classes they want to take a week, ie gym dues for facilities and then discounted classes on top if they pay for it before hand, with several tiers.

this chapter almost feels clerical- this is definitely more of a set up chapter- where i needed to check off a lot of boxes, like hobi's courting present- before we go any further into the story. things are going to start amping up in terms of stakes pretty quickly.

That one part, where hobi is kinda malfunctioning after the m/c touches his cheek and everyone teases him feels the most representative of the pack as a whole. like that part where they're all replying- feels very real. i struggle a little to capture a sense of domesticity in concise ways, but i think this part is very tidy.

That little touch with hobi- where he touches her wrist and her finger, that touch has so much weight to it, i personally think the whole pack was tasting the sexual tension on the air, can you guys feel it too or is it all in my head?

idk why yoongi calling tae babygirl makes me so flustered but it does 🥵

i really wanted to work calling tae mommy into the chapter someway but tbh this chapter felt complex enough without it.

there is like- one plot hole in this whole story, and that is in the first chapter of the story when yoongi gets a call the person on the other line says "grandfather is dying." implying that his death wasn't instantaneous like this is shown to be. however, in my mind- the injections don't actually kill the don and beta but plunge them into a coma that they never wake up from- is this an actual possibility with arsenic poisoning- NO IT ISN'T lol, you're just going to have to suspend your disbelief for me.

the m/c has always been the person who killed the don and the beta- i've known this since like...maybe the 4th chapter? it wasn't in the og og plan for the story but almost everything in bily has been hammered out since then. and tbh you already knew she killed them just not that it was this violent! does this count as a secret???? idk! maybe!!!

she's a little murder baby just like minnie <3

[awriternamedart]

a collection of my middle aged man yaoi sampard headcanons -

Sampo has poliosis, a condition that can cause premature greying in areas on the scalp.

Gepard has lots of facial and body hair but it grows slowly because of their cold enviroment. His beard is a stopwatch for how long hes been on the frontlines that time around as he only gets to shave when hes at his home/stationed in the city.

Sampo has a few beauty marks n moles ! mostly on his back and shoulders.

Gepard has freckles! All the Landaus do!

Once Gepard scared the ever living shit out of Sampo because the Landaus have reflective eyes. So Sampo just saw two blue dots in his bedroom once and nearly fell out the window he climbed in through.

Gepard has piercings! Two simple lobe piercings, he only wears them when hes on break. (so like, never.) Serval pierced them for him when they were teenagers so its a little botched but he does his best to take care of them because their a fond memory of his sister. (He also owns a pair of studs for each of his sisters - a snowflake set for Lynx, and a music note set for Serval. Otherwise, simple black studs.)

Sampo has sideburns!! He tends to keep them trimmed well , since his appearence is a huge part of the show. Hes incredibly meticulous down to the last detail in order to sell it, and can spend up to two hours every morning making sure hes ready for the stage .

Gepard is an amputee. I need to update my arm lore doc but basic gist - his gauntlet is a prosthetic used to trap Fragmentum in his arm nub and uses that Fragmentum as a powersource for the Geomarrow to bounce off of and create the ice and mist he uses in battle. He still deals with phantom pain but most of the time it is soothed with his prosthetic - though it can still flare up horribly when overused.

Sampos really weak to being kissed on the nape of his neck, right where his hair is. Hes not quite sure why.

Gepards easy to blush but inCREDIBLY hard to fluster. Hes so used to keeping himself in check and in control that to catch him in any form of stupor is rare.

Related - Gepard struggles immensely when hes out of control of a situation and someone he is unfamiliar with or doesnt trust holds power over it. Hes so used to being in charge and being looked to and only having those he trusts as peers or over him in the power system that being thrown into that situation crawls under his skin in a /neg way. Physical vulnerabilty is also not easy and very stressful.

Quite the opposite for Sampo - emotional vulnerabilty ties this guy in KNOTS. Hes pretty open to touch (once your on his trust list and ONLY if your on the trust list) but youll have to drag him kicking and screaming if you want a glimpse at his actual thoughts.

also Sampo has a wheezy hyena laugh.

Gepard only has only one or two potted plants he tried to use as motivation to go home more often- it was a suggestion from Pela. But uh, yeah it didnt work. Hes a great cook though!

On the other hand- do not let Sampo within 5 meters of a kitchen. For your sake and his. (hes not that bad and can make enough to get by- but it really .. does not taste great ...)

Sampos not entirely sure how old he is, but Natasha figured he was somewhere in his late twenties early thirties when he arrived on Jarilo and hes kinda been rolling with that ever since.

Gepard overheats really easily when he gets off planet eventually. Like it is bad how easily he gets heatstroke.

Sampo uses his blades to pick at his teeth sometimes. Both Natasha and Gepard hate this .

Gepard has a nasty resting bitch face. Hes learned to be able to nullify it a little bit but when hes tired it drops back to usual and makes it look likes constantly about to murder someone.

On the plus side, this control over his expression means he plays a nasty game of poker! (or whatever the Jarilo 6 counterpart of poker is)

Sampo has on more then one occassion forgot that he has the ability to neutralize most of Belobogs cold and has wandered outside without his jacket. Many people looked at him like he was insane.

Gepard always cuts the sleeve right above his gauntlet implant and sews a new hem to keep it from getting caught in machinery.

Hook called Sampo Gramps once. He never recovered.

Gepards hair is slowly turning brown instead of greying! Sampo is infact, salty about this.

Gepard has three majorly noticable scars. He has frostburn on his flesh hand that wind up his arm, he has Fragmentum cracks that wind up his opposite shoulder (amputated arm)(inactive so it looks like scar tissue or a lightning scar rather then black or gold) , and an impact scar/explosion scar across his lower back. Other minor scars are shrapnel cuts and his knuckles being scarred from being a fistfighter. Also his nose is slightly crooked.

Sampo has done a damn good job at making sure he looks the part of the shifty businessman but he has a few marks of his own. Being an Emanator means he heals quickly- and can mask any scars and injuries he gets with relative ease - but he prefers to not rely on this aspect. His biggest scar is an ugly blade cut into his right shoulderblade, and its only so prominant because it struggled to heal properly.

Sampo is shorter the Natasha! Natasha is just tall !! She is shorter then Gepard who is the tallest among the Belobog cast but shes second.

In order of tallest to shortest of Belobog adults its - Gepard, Natasha, Sampo, Serval, Luka, Bronya, Seele. Sorry Seele.

The Landau eye color and color crest is so recognizable in Belobog that that shade of blue is called Landau Blue.

When Sampo has a difficult time sleeping, he wordlessly buries his face into Gepards neck, who simply begins to hum if hes also awake.

Gepard is a light sleeper- he wakes up very easily. Sampo is not. Gepard has had to fight an extremely sleepy Sampo to get up in the morning more times then he can count.

Gepard actually does have a good singing voice, its just that he has poor discipline and tries to match Servals octave. Which is. Way to high. He also has good rhythm!

This does not mean he is a good dancer.

He can get through on dancing, it being part of his upbringing and studies growing up, but he can only do what steps he knows. Any improv and he falters.

Sampo has in fact trust falled on Gepard multiple times. Once at Bronya and Seeles wedding. He basically forced Gepard to dip him.

Gepard is actually incredibly sassy. Its just that hes awful at inflection and everything comes across as matter-of-fact or dry as fuck. That, and he only dares to sass Serval most of the time- theres not many other people hes comfortable enough with to let loose that much.

When it comes to fishing out back alley deals, few are more knowledgable than Sampo. Even before the Trailblazers, Sampo and Gepard had an under the table deal where if Gepard was unable to crack a case alone, he could get information off Sampo in exchange for supplies and shield. He was not happy about this deal but he deemed it a necessity- for the sake of Belobogs safety.

Sampo would and still does anonymously tip the Guards off on major crimes that could severely impact Belobogs already fragile economy. Hes no saint , but he has his personal morals and he sticks to them.

Gepard had many sharp teef , lil fangies even ! but theyve been worn down over time.

Sampo also has lil sharp teef ! his are more snake fang like tho, thinner.

[roachemoji]

A “Guide” to working with Artists with Aphantasia

DISCLAIMER: 

I KNOW ARTISTS WITHOUT APHANTASIA ALSO USE REFERENCES

This is not going to be applicable to ALL artists (with OR WITHOUT aphantasia)

I don’t speak for everyone!!!

PLEASE Read the information artists provide you THUROUGHLY

ASK ARTISTS WHAT KIND OF INFORMATION THEY NEED

I’m sorry about the typos I am dyslexic and no one is beta reading this :3c

HERE IS THE OG TWITTER POST

I made this guide out of frustration. I was having a hard time communicating with commissioners how much visual information I needed, and that giving me creative freedom doesn’t, personally, work for me. It all comes down to the why; Aphantasia. 

... I realized a lot of people don’t understand what that is, and how it might affect an artist. 

Note: I am a character artist!!! I do personal commissions!!!! I don’t do commercial work!! This guide is about things that I have found extremely helpful!! This may not work for everyone!!!!!!!!!!! 

So, here is the official written guide to what I, personally, have found helpful when getting commissions:

A healthy dose of both written and visual information is needed, but the percentage of which heavily depends on the type of commission and how familiar I am with the characters. 

- Is it an illustration of a scene between two character? Descriptive information on the scene, the emotions, general vibe, dialogue are more important to the composition - but visual references on each character (and their characteristics), the space, the palette, and any objects would be needed. 

- Is it a reference sheet commission? Descriptive information is no longer as important, and the main focus is on the visuals. Descriptive information would be limited to a brief description of personality, placement of certain markings, and/or the written information on the reference. Visuals would be EVERYTHING - every single aspect of that character would need a reference. 

Google Docs, Google Drives, PDFs, Character pages (Toyhou.se or Refsheet.net) is an easy way to compile both written and visual information in one place! 

What is some good visual information to compile for your characters? 

Physical

Age/Race/height/body type

Skin colour/ scars/ freckles/ skin conditions etc

Eye colour/shape

Nose shape

Hair colour/texture/style/decorations

Any additional details (prosthetics limbs/no limbs!/tattoos/piercings/wings)

Face Claims are extremely helpful - and it’s okay to have more than one!  It’s good to specify which parts of what reference are important to your character

Items

Clothing/Jewelry/Accessories

Weapons

Personal Items

Companions

Here is an example of how I organize my Pinterest boards for my own Ocs:

Appearance: Every single visual reference I would need for their physical appearance. Faceclaims, hair styles/texture/colours, facial hair, body types, hand shapes, nose shapes, lip shapes, eye shapes

Aesthetic: Helpful for illustrations. Palettes and aesthetics that I attribute to these characters. Art styles, symbols, colours, settings, etc...

Outfits: Outfits and accessories. Full outfits or single items, textures, colours, patterns.

NOTE: It’s important to remember that some artists can only work with certain references (ie. drawn references vs photo references). If you’re unsure/your artists hasn’t stated which works best for them - ask!  

I cannot work with drawn references in simplistic styles (anime specifically), and I struggle with using nothing but Final Fantasy screenshots. They’re important when it comes to providing colour or even outfit references - but facial features are much harder for me to translate.

Some artists are okay with things like piccrews and can translate them very well! I can’t.

What is some good visual information to compile for your characters?

Written information can vary from commission to commission; unless the illustration is based off a story, I don’t need a novel to be written about the piece. 

Being dyslexic also makes it a struggle for me to parse through written information - I tend to have to break it down outside of the initial commission submission to fully understand what. I also tend to ask a ton more questions when I’m provided more written information than visual - revisions take time and energy.

It’s important to have visual to accompany your written info; 

( shout out to @moki-dokie​ for letting me use their info as an example!! )

Commission information examples 

DESIGN COMMISSIONS:

Info given:

Outcome: 

Easiest character design commission I have ever done. The information given was so concise that the only revisions were my own suggestions on the design itself. 

---

Info Given:

Outcome:

a TON of written information was given to explain the characters backstory, to further drive my understand of the aesthetic and setting of the world the character lives in. The pinterest board provided had a lot physical references, outfits, aesthetics, and colours.

---

ILLUSTRATION COMMISSIONS:

Info Given:

Outcome:

I had a lot of previous information on both of these characters (I designed the top one myself), but I was provided limited written information for this; Holiday Discord call where Toad (character one) is getting a present from Zalem (character two). Zalem is barely hiding how they feel about Toad who is excited.

 All other information provided was visual; Outfits and room aesthetics. 

We discussed poses in Dms and collaboratively found references.

---

Info Given:

Outcome: 

Absolute favorite example of the PERFECT amount of information given and the PERFECT amount of creative freedom given. 

I was handed character references with all angles as well as their armor + how to simply the armor. Pose + expression references. A general aesthetic + palette to work with. The setting. A doodle to lay out exactly what they were visualizing. 

I have all the information you could need! Now what?

I am very privileged to no longer need to take first come first serve commissions, and it’s given me the ability to really sit back and filter through the commissions that I want to do, and those that I immediately do not consider. 

I think it’s important that,  before commissioning anyone, you should ask yourself a couple important questions:

Does this artist’s style suit what I want?

Does my character suit what this artist usually draws?

Do the references I have provide the right amount of information for the specific artist I want to commission?

Sometimes the answer to these questions are; No.

... and that’s okay?

Unfortunately, not every artist is going to be able to bring your vision to life, or feel happy with the completed piece! 

If you’re someone who has Big Buff Demon Men characters that are drawn in a heavily realistic style - you might not ask an artist who draws smaller, softer characters with squishier shapes and a general aesthetic that doesn’t match your Ocs! 

If you’re someone who has characters and all of their references are in an anime style (including other commissioned work), and you have no realistic face claims... maybe commissioning that semi-realistic artist and not providing them with the references the need to translate your character into a semi-realistic style isn’t a good idea? 

I don’t understand when some people get upset when they commission an artist who clearly doesn’t draw characters that look like theirs and they clearly... don’t translate them as well.  I am making this extremely clear RIGHT NOW before anyone says anything:  Everyone can and SHOULD learn to draw the entire spectrum of humanity. From facial features, hair textures, body types, etc...

But some artists struggle to draw characters with certain aesthetics? Outfits? Accessories? You wouldn’t expect an artist who draws soft pastel art to suddenly translate your extremely rough, hard, and hot character properly?

Now, if all the answers are Yes? 

Read all information provided thoroughly 

Ask questions for clarity

Provide what you can, collaborate on what you can’t

Resources

@anonbeadraws​ post: Reference sheet for your commission references!

JAMIErightmeow’s video: I have APHANTASIA

Aphantasia Dot Com

[gaysindistress]

Sad Girl

summary: James has an interesting new business’ proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with. 

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: cursing... for now

word count: 1.8k

authors note: This is my first time posting so please let me know if you want to rest of this series!

series masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

Angry foot steps stomp through the large hallways and up the marble stairway. Raised voices try to alert the others that she is coming and is fuming. She waves a manicured hand above her head, telling them to shut the fuck up before she takes her anger out on them. Her heels nearly crack the marble as Scott trails after her, trying to get her to slow down.

“Ma’am please stop,” he gasps, lot of breath from chasing her through the foyer. 

She stops, taking a deep breath, and turns to look down at him. The diamond “S” of her necklace swings as the pearls and chain barely leave her skin. Her hair nearly whips Scott from the force of her turn. 

“Oh Scott it’s too late to reason with me. I’m already seeing red so why don’t you be a good boy and open that door before I tear it down,” she says eerily clam, pointing to the door in question at the top of the staircase. 

“I… I can’t do that,” he stutters. 

Her black french tips rub the headache coming on as she closes her eyes, “Yes, yes you can. Now go.”

The movement from her arm causes her black outercoat to open slightly and the holster with its accompanying gun flashes every so slightly. Scott’s eyes go straight to it, knowing that she would never pull it on him but the men she’s after are an entirely different question. Scott just nods, climbing the stairs around her as he curses himself for taking this job and dealing with such horrible people.

Once he reaches the door, he gives it a heavy push causing the room to go silent at the intrusion. There is a large oak desk towards the back of the room, crowded by men who all look the same. The head of the family is sitting behind the desk in an even larger throne-like chair, two giants at his sides. The men doing business with him are lounging in the oversized chairs in front of the desk. They too have men flanking their sides as if to say “fuck around and find out”. A woman typing feverishly at a computer is the corner and doesn’t even look at Scott because her job is not stop typing no matter what happens. The room also houses two couches and a coffee table for the “easier” business dealings, at least that’s what the family head says. 

Scott makes eye contact with the head, “she’s here and pissed.”

The head just nods and gestures to one of his side men. He starts to say something to him when the woman in question slides behind Scott, one hand on his shoulder and the other on her hip. 

“Hello, Dad.”

He smiles, “Hello, Darling. We were just finishing up.”

She lets out a sinister laugh, “Like hell you were. Did you really thing you could get away with doing all of this shit without me present?”

She gently pushes Scott out of the room, shutting the door in his face before walking towards the bar her father had installed to fuel his drinking habit. Grabbing 4 glasses and an amber bottle, she makes her way to the desk, not saying a word as if to dare any of the men to utter something. She pours a drink for each glass and hands her dad a glass. 

“You know you’re not supposed to be involved in all of this,” her dad states as he takes the glass and leans back in his throne.

Ignoring her dad, she turns to the men and gestures towards the glass, silently saying “go one and take one”.

“You know you aren’t supposed to offer your daughter up as collateral when you fuck up a business deal,” she offers over her shoulder as she takes a sip from her glass, leaning against the desk, “now which one of you fools actually agreed to this deal?”

The brunette is watching her and taking in every detail she has to offer, willing and accidentally. The blonde sits up a bit straighter and readjusts his suit jacket under his overcoat. 

“No one has agreed to anything yet, Miss. Stark,” the blonde says, crossing his hands in his lap. His watch peaks out from under his sleeve, shining under the natural light from the window. A slight glint bounces of his finger and she makes note of the pinky signet ring he wears. 

“Darling we were just about to sign the papers, so if you could leave that would be great,” Mr. Stark’s voice is growing slightly impatient at his daughter’s invading presence. 

“Don’t you want your business partner to see what prize he won for saving your ass, dad?” the last word is meant to land like a dagger in his heart but his unbothered face proves it does little to change his mind. 

“Don’t you think they might want an inspection? You know to make sure their new property isn’t damaged,” she sneers as she sets her glass and down and begins to take off her overcoat. 

“I’m sure they would love to make sure there are any structural flaws that would render their property useless,” she continues to shed her blazer, leaving her with her holster and v neck blouse. Her necklaces are now shining in all of their glory from the sun and the gun strapped to her ribcage makes everyone stand on high alert. 

“Stop,” is the single word that leaves Mr. Stark’s lips and now the impatience is growing to the surface. 

The men to his side step forward when they spot her gun and the men behind her step closer to their bosses. The blonde and brunette share a look as they both chuckle under their breath at the display of defiance and anger. 

“You are not property so stop referring to yourself as a real estate transaction.” 

The gun is pulled from the holster as she slips the holster off and tosses it on the desk beside her jackets. She points the revolver at her dad’s forehead as she shakes her head. 

“Then don’t treat me like I am one. I am your daughter so start showing me some respect and call of this deal.”

“Doll put the gun down,” the brunette says from behind her. 

“Doll?” she questions as she drops the revolver and turns to look at him, “Don’t call me by some pet name, Barnes. Use my name if you really want to talk to me or did you forget what it was considering you’re too dim witted to see what that contract actually entails.”

A shift in the air around her causes her to look to her right as the blonde takes the revolver from her hand and sets it on the desk. He towers over her, looking down as he scans her face. 

“We already made the necessary changes, Miss. Stark. I can assure you James and I are well aware of what we are getting ourselves into. Is there something you might want to add?” he says to her and her only. 

She scoffs at his pretend nice attitude and goes to push him away but his hand pins hers to his chest. 

“Do you want to make any changes?” he whispers again, blue eyes boring holes into her eyes. 

“Yeah take me out of it,” she whispers back and rips her hand from his. 

“Wanda!” the woman typing looks up at the sound of her name, “I have one thing that I want to add. If he harms me in any way, I reserve the right to cut his dick off, leave and nothing happens to my family.” 

The blonde continues to watch the enigma of a woman in front of him as she tries her hardest to not shot her father, him, and everyone else in this room. 

“Define harm,” Wanda asks, still typing. 

“If he lays a hand on me, breaths wrong, looks at me wrong, says something I don’t like, anything that I don’t like,” she replies and pushes past the blonde to steal his chair. 

The blonde chuckles again when it’s his turn to lean against the desk and glance between his friend and her. 

“She’s gonna be a real handful,” James states as he stands, “can we sign the papers and get out of here?” 

Confusion flashes across the woman’s face for a second but it returns to her resting bitch face. 

Mr. Stark nods his head, handing  James a pen as the blonde slides out of his way for him to sign the contract. 

“Um excuse me? Why the fuck are you signing?” she questions, pointing a finger at Barnes, “Isn’t Rogers the one my dad made the deal with?”

James takes a look at her before going back to finish signing the papers in front of him. Rogers, the blonde, hands back her hostler, blazer, and overcoat before speaking, “James and I both made a deal with your dad. In exchange for our protection and resources, we will receive a portion of his earnings from Stark Industries. For extra reassurance that he wouldn’t cross us, he gave me his vibranium supplier and he gave you to James.” 

Silence fills the room. She stares daggers at Rogers, slicing her way to Barnes before settling her knives on her father. 

“You gave me up instead of some other supplier?” she nearly screamed at her father as the two men at his side quickly grab her by the arms. All sense of self preservation and elegance has left her body as she thrashes in their hands and desperately tries to keep her sobs in. 

“You chose a fucking supplier relationship over me?” 

Mr. Stark ignores her as he signs his name and passes the papers off to Rogers. He shakes James’ and Rogers’ hands before stalking his way towards his daughter. 

“You are my daughter so start fucking acting like it. You knew this was going to be your life when I found you begging on my door step. If you’re going to be mad at anyone, be mad at your mother for leaving you for drugs,” he whispers through clenched teeth into her ear. 

Her eyes had welled up with tears but her father’s words freeze her, only one escaping down her cheek. Mr. Stark makes a motion with her hand and the men release her on unsteady feet. She stumbles forward into her father’s arms. 

He wipes the tear away, pulls her into a death grip hug and soothes her hair down as he whispers in her ear again, “James is the lesser of two evils. He won’t hurt you if you play the part. You know I wouldn’t let any undeserving harm come to you. Now go pack a bag and get ready to leave with him.”

He pulls away, keeping her at arm’s length and pretends to check over her as a good father would if his babygirl was upset. All she does, all she can do is nod, pick up her dropped jackets, and walk out of the room. All eyes are on her as the head strong façade crumbles in front of them, leaving behind the frightened little girl she really is. 

[starshower1215]

Blitzen and Hearthstone Headcanons: Homeless Version (with some Magnus)

I missed them a little bit.

Since Blitzen never wanted to go too far from Magnus, he would go to a very specific store, shop, or mall that played Taylor Swift's music so he could listen. He's a demigod, so using a cellphone is a bit difficult. Thus, access to Taylor Swift's music is difficult, and he really misses hearing the albums that never play on the radio, like Folklore, Red, Evermore, etc.

Hearth has come to terms with his own disability, but sometimes, this would give him the slightest bit of sadness, because he would love to listen to whatever it is Blitzen loves so much and, perhaps, even sing it for him to comfort him.

The uncleanliness of living on the streets really messed with Hearth's head. He would be very fastidious about the things he touched and did, because getting his clothing dirty would result in a lot of anxiety. He has a very deep appreciation for any shops that have products such as Lysol wipes or hand sanitizer available to the public.

The pale color of his hair and skin does not help either, as it makes it much easier to see how filthy he is.

Blitzen's tendency to indulge in the free things in life helped pull Hearth out of his own mind, though. On the occasions when they'd be together, and not a day-mother-elf and night-father-dwarf, Blitzen would take Hearth to explore the town. They loved checking the community notice board to see what's going on, and they made sure to invite Magnus with them to the community festivals, events, all the little things. This was a small light in Magnus' life after his mom died.

Blitzen, who was isolated from his home and therefore, all his designing materials, loved to window shop. He dragged Hearth around the malls and outlets and just imagined what it would be like to style the clothes, how he would adjust them and improve them. They'd play dress-up, too, probably with Magnus, too, much to the dismay of the shopkeepers.

Blitz's games of dress-up often evolved into games of pretend and playing House, which affected Hearth emotionally sometimes. They would mess around together at the empty checkout counters, pretending to make each other dinner and chatting about how their day went, making up details about the mundane lives they could only wish for.

I had previous head canons that Hearth was already in poor health due to his lack of proper eating habits, so he probably fell ill even more in the bad sanitary conditions. This might've triggered him to feel really guilty, and Blitz would do his best to help Hearth.

This goes both ways. Anyone would get sick in unsanitary conditions, and both of them have issues with this concept of "taking up space." Blitz would feel guilty or discomforted by the fact that he's taking up more attention than necessary. It seems contradictory, since he would love more attention towards himself and his talents, but desire can clash with trauma.

Blitzen always let Hearth wear some of his clothes to sleep, as Hearth is used to a much warmer environment, being from Alfheim. It was awkward at first, since Blitz was much smaller, but Hearth eventually got used to simply wrapping his clothes around his shoulders.

With Blitzen being with Magnus at night and Hearth there during the day, they missed each other a lot.

Since Magnus never used to see them much together, he was shocked when he found out that they knew each other.

Hearth learned to read very late, since he was always busy surviving in an abusive household. But the library is a prime shelter for homeless people, so he would often spend days with Magnus, matching signs up to words. At first, they had a lot of trouble communicating, but one day, Magnus pointed at a book, then pointed to the word "book," and it went on from there.

Blitzen is very weak, I believe this is specified in the books, but I imagine at night, when it is more dangerous, Hearth lets him take his leather jacket. It makes him look broader, more tough, and it helps him scare people away despite his height in order to protect Magnus.

[no-side-us]

The Invisible Man, Ch. 19 - Certain First Principles

This chapter isn't the one that gives the full explanation of Griffin becoming invisible, but it does offer a few glimpses before that.

“I went there after I left London. You know I dropped medicine and took up physics? No; well, I did. Light fascinated me.”

First we learn that Griffin studied medicine before dropping it for physics. I'm not sure exactly, but I assume being a doctor would have offered both financial gain and some degree of social status, which is why I assume Griffin would study it in the first place.

“Optical density! The whole subject is a network of riddles—a network with solutions glimmering elusively through. And being but two-and-twenty and full of enthusiasm, I said, ‘I will devote my life to this. This is worth while.’ You know what fools we are at two-and-twenty?”

He was twenty-two when he decided to devote himself to the study of light and optical density, a subject that evidently brings him a lot of joy. We don't really know much about Griffin's likes or wants, other than maybe cigars and a desire for isolation, so the fact he decided to study light out of his enthusiasm for it is insightful. He's a nerd for this sort of stuff.

"Either a body absorbs light, or it reflects or refracts it, or does all these things. If it neither reflects nor refracts nor absorbs light, it cannot of itself be visible..."

Proven, I think, by the scientific explanations Griffin details. I don't think the story needed these paragraphs, but including them makes the story more immersive. Plus, they're easy to follow, and we later learn that Griffin did teach students, so we sort of get a glimpse into his teaching style, which is fun.

It's also one of the few moments where Griffin is sort of in his element and content, talking about something he loves to a friend with whom he shares both education and history.

"And not only paper, but cotton fibre, linen fibre, wool fibre, woody fibre, and bone, Kemp, flesh, Kemp, hair, Kemp, nails and nerves, Kemp, in fact the whole fabric of a man except the red of his blood and the black pigment of hair, are all made up of transparent, colourless tissue."

I love how creepy this line is. The shift from natural materials to the elements of a human body, the repeated "Kemp" only after the human parts are being named, just the reduction of a man into malleable fabric, it's great.

"Oliver, my professor, was a scientific bounder, a journalist by instinct, a thief of ideas—he was always prying! And you know the knavish system of the scientific world. I simply would not publish, and let him share my credit."

I sometimes see posts about academia lamenting the state of scholarly publishing, and how all the money just goes to publishers, and how easy it is for studies to be misconstrued in mainstream news. Anyways, it's regrettable to see that something like this existed back then, though at a smaller scale.

"In all my great moments I have been alone. ‘One could make an animal—a tissue—transparent! One could make it invisible! All except the pigments—I could be invisible!’ I said, suddenly realising what it meant to be an albino with such knowledge."

The line "In all my great moments I have been alone," sounds like the sort of thing a person who is always alone would assume. That, coupled with him mentioning his albinism a sentence later, suggests to me that discovering invisibility isn't just interesting due to his own skin condition, but also that the fame it would bring him would up-end his social status as an albino.

"And I, a shabby, poverty-struck, hemmed-in demonstrator, teaching fools in a provincial college, might suddenly become—this."

This chapter really does round out Griffin's character. Him having been in poverty is in line with his current issues with money that we've seen, and being the TA for a professor he hates while also teaching students who he finds stupid is consistent with how much secrecy and isolation he desires.

“Money,” said the Invisible Man, and went again to stare out of the window. He turned around abruptly. “I robbed the old man—robbed my father. “The money was not his, and he shot himself.”

There are a few implications to these lines. First, Griffin has prior experience being a thief, even before being invisible. Second, he seemingly had no qualms about robbing his own father, which tells me their relationship wasn't exactly great. A quick search tells me that most parents of kids with albinism do not have it themselves, so I'm sure Griffin being an albino played a role in that relationship.

Also, the money didn't belong to Griffin's father in the first place? I always wondered what this meant exactly. Did Griffin's dad also rob someone? Was he like a banker, holding someone else's money? I don't think we ever get a clear explanation for this. Regardless, it caused him enough stress for him to take his own life. What a way to end a chapter.

[beevean]

Thinking again of this post, because I read a Fridge moment on TvTropes that made me think:

Well, to me it was rather obvious that Lenore put on makeup, and took time to brush her hair in that complicated hairdo, and chose the prettiest dresses: she clearly cares about being beautiful. Of course, being just "beautiful" is not the point: it's being humanly beautiful. Carmilla is also an attractive woman if you're into #girlbosses, but she has chalk-white skin, hair that matches, and long claws, so she's very clearly inhuman.

And this all feeds in Lenore imitating humanity. While with this logic it's a bit odd that she doesn't hide her red eyes and pointy ears, otherwise she puts a lot of effort in her appearance, and most importantly to look human and vulnerable. She cuts her claws and puts blush on her cheeks to look more human, less creepy. She says she enjoys eating human food to "live well".

Another underrated line is this:

Lenore: You didn't hear me enter. Hector: No. You have a scent. Like… jasmine and wine.

It's easy to chalk up this as a way to make Lenore even more appealing, in an outstandishly Mary Sue-ish way for a grown professional writer lol. But why would a vampire smell like flowers? What if vampires naturally carried the reek of the dead, but Lenore cannot afford to be anything less than perfectly attractive, so she doused herself in perfume to the point that Hector was able to smell her out as he was engrossed in his book? It's all calculated to the detail.

Everything is, of course, in function of her role as a diplomat. One, she needs to be approachable, and put the other person at ease: basically, she wants to avoid falling into the uncanny valley vampires naturally reside in. Two... well.

Lenore, thematically, goes against Dracula's thesis.

Did you hear Godbrand down there? "Livestock," he said. So many of my kindred are the same. They can no longer conceive of humans as thinking beings. Just livestock. It's the privilege of our condition, I suppose. You can't hate livestock. They are simply what they are. Grazing animals to be slaughtered. But you two are different. You are human. You are not looking at the scouring of humanity from the earth as an opportunity to get the livestock under control and to fill stables, and abattoirs, and pantries. You hate your species. You hate humans. You have a focus and clarity that the others lack. You understand that humans think, and scheme, and betray. You understand why they all must die.

The reason Dracula trusts Hector and Isaac more than his fellow vampires is that, according to him, vampires have essentially blue and orange morality regarding humans, and don't see them as sapient beings. They kill because they feed on them, and that's it, they don't spare much thought about them. The Forgemasters, as humans hurt by humans, understand how they think, and as such empathize with Dracula's plight.

Dracula was right when it came to the other vampires. Carmilla waltzes in and the first thing she asks is why is Dracula mobilitating all vampire forces for what she sees as a pet: in fact, this is more or less the whole reasons she schemes against him. When Hector is dragged to Styria, Striga refers to him as an "it", like a stinking dog. Carmilla herself has to be told that maybe beating a Forgemaster and then expecting him to work for her is not exactly a galaxy brain moment, because well, said Forgemaster may have feelings. You have vampires on one side, and humans on the other side, and they see each other as nothing but beasts for different reasons.

Lenore is, in theory, the exception to the rule.

Yes, at first she also saw Hector as an animal, as some sort of stray dog to domesticate. But unlike the others, she understands how humans think. She knows which buttons to push. She's better than Carmilla at pretending to care about Hector, who only limited herself to some shallow praises and to spin her plan as "it's going to save your life"; no, Lenore asks what Hector wants, she's physically affectionate, she compliments not just his skills but him as a person, she even asks him if she can come visit him again pretending Hector has a choice in the matter, with the purpose of making him feel wanted.

She knows how to talk to a human, like a human, looking human.

And this is what makes her much more terrifying than Dracula or Carmilla, who at the end of the day are only monsters with human feelings.

You're not likely to encounter a genocidial madman who plans to kill all people in the world because wife died, or an insane radfem who wants to conquer the world because men stupid.

You are, however, very much at danger of falling into the trap of a charming sociopath who knows very well how to pretend to love you, and tricks you into loving them, only for them to imprison you in a terrible, humiliating, stifling, toxic relationship - and then they have the balls to pretend they're only acting for your own good, mocking you all the while.

This is how Lenore blurs the line between vampires and humans. This is what made her, despite all the other writing flaws of S3, an interesting character. This is how humanizing a character can be a bad thing. And incidentally, this is how you incarnate the themes of a mask (that really should have gone to Carmilla): Lenore puts on makeup and perfume and acts sweet to hide the monster inside her. (yes i know that actually she sounds smug and condescending af, but i'm going with the intent)

Lenore might not want to target all of Europe which makes her less of a threat than Dracula or Carmilla, but she's the incarnation of human hunger for power, as she clearly enjoys mentally subjugating other people (her "diplomacy" is, after all, nothing but a bunch of lies and gaslighting), and she perfectly looks the part, and it's actually very clever.

She also acts as the perfect foil to Hector, who is a human who doesn't think like a human, doesn't empathize with other humans, and can suggest to enslave other humans without a hint of malice in him - much like vampires feed on humans not out of cruelty, but because it's part of their nature.

And this is one of the infinite reasons the Lenore of S4 offends me. Now her beauty is a sign of her inner goodness. Now her proximity to humanity is used to make her sympathetic, because poor thing she's appalled at Carmilla's insanity, as she wasn't an enthusiastic participant when it was convenient to her. In a frantic quest from the writing to give her "humanity" in the sense of "a good side that makes her deep", she becomes duller, flatter. In her way, S4 Lenore still has potential as an interesting character, as it becomes more obvious that she's the unfavorite of her sisters much like Hector was considered an idiot by Dracula and Isaac, and that could have been used to explain why she seems so famished for control over the one creature weaker than she is. But after the heels of S3, it comes off as whitewashing her for the sake of a ship pandering to the fans who found her hot and nothing more in S3, and it's at the very minimum dishonest. She was much more interesting as a double-faced amoral villain made of nothing but masks.

[stickywhiteash]

Dumbass (Lesson Learned) || Kakashi x Reader

Takes place right after Naruto Shippuden: Will of Fire movie. Recommended to watch or get the plot of it

Warnings: death and suicide mention, bit of angst Word Count: (1,038)

One would think that coming back from an assignment your worries would be over and done with for at least a day. You’d turn in your papers, go home, rest/recover, then go on another mission.

No.

The news you heard on your way back was “Kakashi Hatake has defected. Do not go after him.” A possible war breaking out between the villages was also looming over people’s heads.

Lady Tsunade was last seen by the border of Sunagakure and Konohagakure, weapons drawn and ready to strike just in case.

Upon arriving home, you did some more information gathering. The real reason why your boyfriend had left was because he decided the best course of action was to suicide bomb the enemy. Some comrades told you that recent news said the village nearly avoided the crisis by the skin of their teeth. Details on how are still pending as neither the Hokage or the other shinobi have come back yet.

Oh how lucky the silver haired shinobi’s best friend is still out on a long mission during the whole disaster. The man would have been shaken like a cocktail while being berated with a megaphone mouth nonstop for hours.

After a long day of wandering the streets, off in the distance, you spot everyone who attempted to stop Naruto and Sakura from saving Kakashi approach the gate. Your jaw clenches. His chakra signature was missing, but Naruto’s is there. You walk up, greeting all the kids forcing a smile. Everyone looked okay for the most part, but tired. Proud, but exhausted. It was when the sea of teens parted that your smile dropped.

Kakashi once again, barely able to walk due to his chakra almost completely depleted. On either side of him are his students helping him up. When his eye locks on to yours and the fabric of his mask wrinkles, signaling the man is giving you a sheepish smile.

Lava coursed through your veins. Your hands ball up into a fist besides your hips. Every muscle screamed to have you step forward and give him a knuckle sandwich. Release your inner Sakura. As much as you want to, you hold your ground.

“You know, for a genius, a goddamn prodigy, you’re an absolute fucking dumbass to pull a stunt like that!”

He chuckles, not saying anything. Whatever you had to yell at him was justified. God it’s embarrassing to have his partner reprimand him in front of a crowd. His students and friends no less.

“You really messed up, Kakashi-sensei.”

“I told you so, Kakashi-sensei, believe it.”

“Wow senpai, you and your partner's bond is really deep.”

“Yes, yes..”

A sigh makes its way past your lips, “I can take him to the hospital from here you two.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm. Go on ahead. You don’t need this old fart slowing you down. And Naruto~”

He flinches from his name being sung. The blonde makes eye contact, a bit of fear present in those bright blue eyes.

“Y-yeah?,” he responds, preparing himself to be scolded as well due to disobeying orders.

“Thank you for bringing him back. I’ll treat you to some ramen once you’re feeling better”

“HELL YEAH. I’m holding ya to it, believe it!”

The crowd scatters and you’re left half carrying your beloved to the same destination as the others to get patched up.

Minutes pass by in uncomfortable silence.

Should he apologize? Explain himself? Stay silent? Tell a tone deaf joke? What to say to you in this awkward time. Unsure of what words to give you, Kakashi settles on squeezing your shoulders as tight as he can. It’s not a lot considering his current condition but noticeable.

“You know I’m mad at you.”

Kakashi grunts in acknowledgment.

“But I’m more relieved that you made it back home.”

His muscles relax, putting more weight on you.

“I gotta ask. Are you.. feeling suicidal again?”

A cold black eye looks at you. A sharp pain shoots through Kakashi’s heart.

“No,” he whispers, “I promise. This wasn’t like that.”

“I see. Then why? Why resort to that? I looked home, there was no note. Nothing. Were you just going to leave me like that? They said you walked out the village in the middle of the night without a word.”

Each word wavered as it left your lips. He could tell you were trying to stay strong. Refusing to allow your legs to turn jello in order to make it to your destination. You choke down your tears.

That’s why he didn’t leave a message.

To write the truth and have you blame yourself for not coming home earlier and talk him out of the ridiculous plan that he came up. He couldn’t have that.

It pained him to imagine you crying and holding yourself responsible for something that was his own idea and apparently avoidable.

If Kakashi had died and the plan still failed, the guilt would have eaten you into nothing.

His breath hitched upon the thought.

You were supposed to hear the same reason that everyone else would have gotten. Lady Tsunade sent Kakashi Hatake to his death to save the village. It’s not a better alternative but the burden of blame you’d put upon yourself wouldn’t be as much had it been his own idea.

“I thought there was no other options. Clearly I was wrong. Can’t really promise it won’t happen again. I do apologize that I didn't say anything. I should've left something for you.”

You sigh. Of course he can’t promise something like that. Such things just come with the lifestyle. It’s the thought that counts, you suppose.

“It’s good you taught your students well. Despite that, you know. You abandoned that lesson for the village. Old habits die hard, it seems.”

“Yeah, tried to shoulder all of the responsibility and left my comrades behind—“

“When you didn’t have to! You have people to lean on.”

“Har, har.”

“I’m being serious, Mr. Hatake.” Your head shakes in disapproval. “Well, you clearly learned your lesson. I won’t talk your ear off anymore. Gai can do that for me when he comes back.”

“Actually, can you keep it a secret—“

“Absolutely not. Face the consequences of your actions.”

[fahbev]

Babs, Bruce and Danny in my dpxdc merfolk au!!!

argh, plz excuse the poorly edited photo lmao- lost a lot of detail TvT

Babs has her info Here. But this is her design! I’m not actually entirely sure if any of these designs are final, i might tweak them, but here she is! I gave her necklaces.

Bruce is based on a leatherback sea turtle! The spots aren’t actually super accurate to a leatherback’s underside, but if you look at it a little harder... you may find a fun little easter egg. It’s subtle... or at least i tried to make it that way. (If people don’t get it i’ll explain in a rb lol) Did you know that leatherback sea turtles can be up to 880 pounds? Idk what that is in metric but that’s roughly 7 and a half Bahfevs. They’re also much more triangular/less round than other turtles, so I reflected that in his design. And ofc, Bruce and Damian are both sea turtles bc they’re related. But they’re different sea turtle species so it doesn’t make much sense. Who gives a flip. What’s Talia, you ask? To that I say: 🤷‍♀️

(Side note: apparently, I’ve conditioned myself so I can’t draw nuetral expressions. It’s gotta have some emotion or else it looks wrong, and it feels natural to always have something going on there. So... drawing Stoic McStoicface here was a pain in the penis. He kinda has an expression anyway lol)

Danny is based on a ghost knife fish! I’ll be honest, i didn’t even know these existed until I looked up “ghost fish” in the hopes of finding something thematic. But then... omg! They’re black with little white accents? Like Danny’s design? And they have cool, funky bodies? AND they produce electricity!?? That’s so FKING COOL! I’ll have to do more research, but so far i’m pretty sure they don’t produce enough electricity to hurt someone. They are related to electric eels though! I first learned that electric eels were knife fish and not true eels when I was researching the moray eel for Duke. Funny how that connects!

Danny’s story under the cut!

Heehoo!

Okay so basically: Danny went diving to gather pearls because he wanted to make his parents happy/proud. While he was diving, His foot got caught in a rock and he couldn’t get it out. He panicked and he begged— to who? God, maybe? The universe, or the ocean? Maybe just begging fate or any higher power that could be out there, he doesn’t know. His only prayer was “Don’t let me drown!”. Unbeknownst to him, one of the pearls he’d grabbed was a magic, wish granting pearl. They’re rare enough that humans don’t even have legends of them... but the merfolk do ;).

The pearl took his very non-specific wish and decided to give him a tail and gills. He swam back up in a panic, and saw his new tail. Of course, this is a very horrifying thing to happen. But in less than a minute... it was already starting to dry off. As it dried, it turned back into skin.

Now, Danny has to be extremely careful not to get his legs or hair wet when he’s near people, because he’ll turn back into a merboy.

i... probably should have given him a shirt? He’d be wearing it, right? But i also did need to see what I was doing with that fin thing lol. I mean, a shirt would get annoying with that fin- he’d probably take it off. Tbh he’d probably have it off when swimming in general? Idk.

So: funny thing that happened when I was drawing Danny:

A first grader came up to me while I had it open on my desk, and she was like:

“Oh my god, that’s so good! Like, how did you even draw that?”

so I was like: “Oh thank you! ❤️”

And I think she asked again “How did you even draw that?”

so I was a little confused on how to answer, so I said:

“Well, I used my pencil...” and held up my pencil—

and then she got distracted by a spinny chair.

She’s so precious omg 🥰

[bucket-barnes]

Frostbite

This came from my “Isle Christmas traditions” writing prompt, I had several different little details in there and this is one I wanted to flesh out. It’s lost revenge/ Harry centric and based in the year long gap between D2 and D3 when Uma wasn’t on the Isle

CW: alcohol and vague descriptions of frostbite

The isle was always cold in the winter, below freezing temperatures and heavy snow were common, especially by the docks. The pirates would often sing and drink to distract themselves from the icicles forming in their hair and the chill in their bones

During Uma’s…absence the past few months, Harry had become the de facto captain of the Lost Revenge, keeping the crew in line, fixing the ship (Uma would love coming back to the ship in perfect condition!) sure, he missed her…a lot, but having the role of Captain was a dream come true for Harry, finally he was “Captain Hook” (though by last name rather than a tragic accident involving his hands)

It was a cold winter morning, Harry had gone onto the ship early to make sure no rats had gnawed on the ropes or chewed through the wood. The winter breeze was cutting through his leather coat, stinging his skin, Harry didn’t mind, he had work to do. Harry continued inspecting the wood and the ropes, all were clear and he moved on to directing the rest of Um- his crew…Uma’s not here

The morning went on and the breeze became stronger, the cold started making Harry’s fingers sting, but he could just hold onto his hook, he’ll be fine, a little cold never hurt anyone… his fingers felt kinda numb but…it’s probably fine

Gil went with Harry to make the daily rounds for extortion, he couldn’t help but notice Harry was pulling at his hands a lot and that they were looking a little red, whenever he asked if he was alright Harry would just brush him off and say he was fine and if he pushed any further Harry would knock him upside the head. As they went through their rounds, Gil kept looking at Harry’s hands, sure Gil isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed but he knew hands weren’t supposed to look like that, it seemed even some of their “clients” knew that too, their eyes shifting between Harry’s hook and his free hand… red, turning purple

The day went on and, despite Gil’s slight worrying, Harry continued his work, though by now his fingers were fully numb and turning blue. Other crew members started to notice the state of their captain’s hands

“Uh…Cap’n?”

Jonas trailed off when he saw the small blisters forming on Harry’s hands, Harry didn’t answer

“Cap’n?”

Jonas tried again, still no answer

“Harry!”

Jonas yelled, which seemed to catch Harry’s attention

“Your hands…”

Jonas nodded to his captain’s hands, cold and stiff from pain, his fingertips a light blue

“They’re fine. Get back to work”

Harry glared at Jonas and then went below deck…coming back with a bottle of rum that he quickly took a large swig from.

The day continued and the sun went down, as did Harry’s general awareness. The pain in his hands had become so much that he took to the pirate’s tradition of drinking until you can’t feel, some of the crew had joined him, if for no other reason than to keep an eye on him. As the pirates drank, some started singing, Gil being one of them. The singing was by no means on key or in any sort of tune, but rum makes anything sound good. As he sang, Gil’s gaze once again turned to Harry’s hands. Blue, blistered, freezing cold

“Harry?”

Gill wearily asked as his singing died off, Harry looked over at his friend, his eyes glazed over with a drunken haze. Gil, not wanting to anger his friend and captain, nodded down to his hands

“The…their fine”

Harry insisted, his words slurring and shaking from the cold

“No…their not”

Gil shook his head, Harry glared at him and took another swig of rum, his face flinched from the pain of gripping the bottle, the bottle slipped from his hand and dropped onto the floor, shattering on impact. The rest of the crew turned their heads to look at the pool of alcohol forming on the deck

“Captain?”

Bonny spoke up cautiously

“Don’t call me that, Uma is our captain, only she gets that title”

Harry raised his voice, it was slurred and angry

“Well Uma isn’t here! Therefore, you are our Cap’n!”

Jonas retorted, matching Harry’s tone, equally drunk. Gil, the only slightly sober one in the moment, quickly tried to diffuse the argument

“Harry, we’re just worried about you”

He tried to explain, but Harry wasn’t in a mood to listen

“Uma is still your Captain and she will be addressed as your Captain!”

Harry drunkenly yelled, he tried to take a step toward Jonas, but he slipped on the puddle of rum, falling backward, his head hitting the floor of the ship’s deck…and he was out like a light

…

I couldn’t think of a decent ending so let’s make this fun- reblog this and write your own ending! I promise you I will look at all of them because I like validation!

[luffyvace]

Ooo if you’re still taking requests pls do black reader with either sanji or ace next (or both!!)🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

YESSS I AMMM AND WILL DO LOVE!! i’m gonna doooo…BOTH<3

(u didn’t specify gender so i’m still going gn♡)

SANJI X BLACK READER IS SUCH A POWER COUPLE

ok first of if your a bit more thicc/chubby he adores you<3

he wont ever judge his beloved<3

let’s clear that up now okay? He loves you.

he also loves your hairrrrrrrr 😍

loves the texture and praises/compliments it in great detail

he will insist on washing it for you or at least helping you, especially if you have a lot of hair

he LOVESSSSS big Afro’s 😍😍

it just looks so majestic to him

will learn how to braid on and off scalp for you so you don’t have to blister/hurt your own fingers

even if it means he has to deal with the burning himself

will do any style no matter how long it takes

He just loves to be able to condition and style your hair and be like ‘yeah I did that for my s/o! 🦸‘

YES SUPERMAN LOL

another thing he loves is LOCSSSSS 💗💗

He finds it so mesmerizing and ethereal like💥💥💥💥

it just DOES something to him

yea man is a simp through and through

doesn’t mind at all when he notices your skin/hair is naturally oily and he tries to ask you in the softest way possible as to why its that way

in case your sensitive about it or if it’s just a you thing

but nope! It’s simply to help keep your skin/hair hydrated

ohhhh!

speaking of which everything about your culture is so fascinating to him

he asks all about it and I mean ESPECIALLY on the your traditional dishes

wants you to teach/cook him every recipe so he can make it for you should you ever miss food from home

btw let’s say you can cook for the headcanons, even if you can’t

will let you prepare you own dishes if you want

they smell so good too!! 🤤🤤

YUMMY

luffy WILL bother you to cook for him as well

if it gets on your nerves sanji will be there to shoo him away

sanji finds all your features attractive, from your nose, to your hair, down to your skin and lips

especially those juicy lips 😊😊

oh how he wants to kiss them for eternity<3

he also hypes you uppppp about ur fits!!

he thinks they’re fire and will spend all his money buying you more!!

def shows you off and compliments you like crazyyy

as far as AAVE.. he doesn’t get it for a while..

kinda just hahah..😅 (??)

he does get tho! After some time :)

feels so accomplished once he masters it but doesn’t really use it out of respect

just knows it to know what your talking about and be able to laugh at your jokes and stories 😋

might have to translate a few things to the rest of the crew..

LOL

not everything tho it’s not like your speaking a whole new language

but it is a good way to sneak comments about people to each other 😗

bonus! sanji 100% brags to zoro about you being his s/o

ace is very curious about..everything!

asks you lots of questions without holding back

he just wants to know all about you and your hair, culture, food, everything!

LOVES the fact that you for sure know how to throw a party

and dance too!

again let’s say you can for the headcanons

and don’t get me started on your cooking…

he smackin that food DOWN

yummy yummy 😋

make as much as you can and more because we all know this man has a huge appetite

plays with your hair a lot

he doesn’t like when his finger nails get caught tho 🤦‍♀️

YOU don’t like it even more! Your hair gets yanked from him trying to get it out! HE shouldn’t be the one complaining..😒

doesn’t normally pay much attention to clothes but does admit you can dress and GOOD

will compliment you too if your wearing something more extravagant than normal

but just know he thinks your fits are fire 🔥

LOL

he just doesn’t verbalize it all the time

maybe to Marco more than you 🤷‍♀️

he thinks all the stories you tell him from when you were little are HILARIOUS

like the time yo mama said she gon smack you into the next dimension if you do smth like that again

“HAHAHAHA”

“BRUHH ITS NOT FUNNYYYY”

tells whitebeard the stories you’ve told him

WHITEBEARD FINDS IT FUNNY TOO

random

Ace’s favorite meal you cook is your barbecue

😍😍

🤤

he hear that grill it’s time to EAT.

as for if reader is chubby

he doesn’t mind in the slightest and loves you in every way

doesn’t affect him much unless it affects your mental health

then he’ll do anything to make you happy

doesn’t know much about psychology and he needs to heal himself in which he likely takes you to Marco

but don’t worry this is different, it’s not some doctor that doesn’t care about you and only wants your money!

it’s Marco! The ship’s doctor! Ace’s friend! your friend!

so you know he genuinely wants to help :)

Ace probably will never end up getting AAVE..

he’s not dumb it’s just…

’wait what?? He’s confused..’

LOL

he knows it’s how you talk tho

which is just about all he knows

you could probably teach marco or izo and use it against ace by talking abt him 😂

not in a mean way, in a playful insult way

he feels really lucky to have you

he’s more likely to wash your hair if you ask him btw

don’t get me wrong he loves it

but would prefer to admire from a far

especially while in a Afro

when you have your hair in your ponytail he likes to press it down a bit, let it go and go “boing boing-“

“boy!-“ *smacks hand away*

yeaaa..you stop him

I’m really glad you requested these because I’ve been meaning to write more for ace and I wanted to write for sanji as well!

I actually have another ace draft coming………..sooner or later…BESIDES THE POINT! You can look out for it if you want some more ace content<3 hope you enjoyed your request anon!♥︎

[atlaskrr]

Kavetham headcanons

Not gonna go into detail but based on Alhaitham's idle animation, the way the keys are tangled shows that they most likely use a key dish (like wtf that's highly domestic)

A lot of people think Alhaitham specifically made a new key in gold for Kaveh but I'd like to think Kaveh took Alhaitham's key and asked someone to make another one in gold

Continuing the point above Alhaitham was highly pissed as he thought he lost his key and he was going to make Kaveh one anyway before it got stolen by non other than Kaveh himself

Kaveh is a top and Alhaitham is a bottom (I will not elaborate further)

Kaveh definitely just hiding pain with a smile (huh know someone who does that *coughs*)

Related to the point above he feels useless so sometimes when he's doing nothing he just thinks about what Alhaitham says when they bicker even though he tells himself Alhaitham doesn't mean it

Alhaitham is emotionally constipated so he doesn't realize his feelings until he talks to someone (maybe cyno) about how he is annoyed with the way Kaveh makes him feel which he tries to brush off as annoyance but then the person is like uuhhh dude, I think you're in love

Alhaitham denies his feelings for months

Even after reading books to research about love that tell him YOU ARE IN L O V E

Kaveh knew about his feelings early on and became more annoying to hide it

Kaveh has one condition to scold Alhaitham which is when the man is over working himself

Kaveh is stronger than Alhaitham (I mean my man is an architect and uses a claymore, still looks so dainty though)

Kaveh has multiple products for showering with exfoliator, soap, shampoo, conditioner, those hair vitamins while Alhaitham just wants to get it over quickly with shampoo and soap

Kaveh introduces him to all the different products and now Alhaitham shares soap and shampoo with Kaveh (totally to "just save money") but doesn't use the rest of the products

Same goes for skin care with Kaveh having toner, cleanser, lotion, sun screen, hydrator, hyloronic acid, niacinamide, face masks, salicylic acid and what not (like this is extensive skincare people)

Alhaitham buys a basic cleanser after Kaveh pesters him to, going on and on about the benefits of skincare (he's doesn't want to share his)

We also all agree that Alhaitham pays for all of the aforementioned products above (he's an unintentional sugar daddy)

Kaveh uses makeup (mainly eyeliner and lip gloss, just the basics) to be extra ✨✨✨✨

Alhaitham does to since he thinks it makes him more presentable (still won't do skincare though since he thinks most of the products are marketing bs)

I mean he's not wrong but-

Sometimes Alhaitham helps do Kaveh's hair

Alhaitham's love language is acts of service

Kaveh's love language is words of affirmation

They make it work

When they first start dating Alhaitham doesn't say I love you a lot and yk Kaveh is just "is he having doubts" "he doesn't feel the same way" or smth like that since he just freezes as well when Kaveh say I live you since my guy is flustered but after some drunk situations, they communicate

Drunk Kaveh is really soft, emotional and sappy

They share bottles of red wine

Alhaitham is deaf in one ear and hard of hearing in the other

Kaveh learnt sign language just to continue to talk to him or as it really is bicker with him after he turns of his hearing aid headphones (jokes on you Kaveh, he can close his eyes)

Alhaitham gave Kaveh a sumeru rose and Kaveh gave him a padisarah (let your imagination give you context to that)

Kaveh makes a huge mess with his sketches all over the place but organizes it after his creative rush

Alhaitham is the same but stays in his organized mess and it pisses Kaveh off

They both work themselves to sleep

They care for each other but forget to do for themselves (more Alhaitham)

We know what that high collar is for Alhaitham (it's to hide something called a hic-)

Kaveh has calloused fingers

Alhaitham has scuffed palms

They fit each other nicely

Alhaitham is flustered by physical touch at first but grows used to it

Rubbing comforting circles into each other's shoulder blades

Rubbing thumbs over the back of each other's hand

They both pulled each other by being autistic

Kaveh is stronger than Alhaitham but he doesn't have the muscle shown because

1. Long sleeves

2. Muscles do not equal strength

And 3. It's like tubbo who's very strong but doesn't look like it

[onbearfeet]

Like a hole in my head: An antidote to panic

So I've been thinking about everyone's reactions to Trump getting shot at, and especially the doomer "Oh, it's so joever" shit. And I think the most useful observation I can make is that the problem we're facing isn't the certainty of a bad future--it's the lack of any certainty at all. We don't know what's going to happen. None of us CAN know.

And we are not coping well.

Humans HATE uncertainty. We have all kinds of cognitive shortcuts and biases to protect us from having to sit with uncertainty, so when it's genuinely unavoidable, we kind of lose our little monkey minds.

But lucky for you, I am an expert on uncertainty. I've had to be, because I have a hole in my head.

The details aren't terribly important, but the short version is: due to a hilarious fuckup in an otherwise lifesaving experimental surgery I received as a tiny premature infant, I have a skull that is about 85% bone, 13% plastic, and 2% fuckall. The hole has skin and hair over it, so it's not visible, but anyone running their fingers over that part of my scalp will find their fingertips dipping into a dent that's about the right size for me to have been whacked in the head with a golf ball. The hole itself is either dime-sized or quarter-sized, depending on the X-ray you prefer.

The technical term for my condition is "stable", which means it's not changing. Stable is not healthy or safe, merely consistent. And my point of stability is that I'm basically fine ... right up until something bonks me on the head just right. Like, say, a cupboard door. Or an elbow. Or a book falling off a shelf. In that case, I might die before I hit the floor, on account of the whole "no brain armor in that spot" situation.

I'm 40 years old, so you might wonder why this hasn't been fixed, but the answer is the look on doctors' faces when the phrase "elective neurosurgery" is uttered.

Anyway.

I've lived my entire life knowing there was a pretty good chance that I'd get out of bed some morning and not make it back to my pillow that night. And at first, that uncertainty was paralyzing. It's hard to see the point of starting college, for example, if you might not live to graduate. Then again, if you think too hard about that, you won't do anything at all, and that's not great either. And this situation is stable, and therefore unlikely to improve! Certainty isn't coming, at least not for me. Not certainty of long life, not certainty of imminent death.

So let me introduce you to the question that enables me to function, the question I ask myself when contemplating any new endeavor more ambitious than cooking something new for dinner.

"Is this worth dying in the middle of?"

It's a hell of a perspective check, and the answer will vary from one person and situation to the next, but it's profoundly useful. I got two college degrees on the belief that education was a noble pursuit in itself, and even a half-finished one would look better in my obituary than the lack. I write books because even an unfinished novel can be good art. I decided a couple of years ago to pursue finding a partner because I think love is worth dying in the middle of. And who knows? I might not die. Imagine that. I might even finish.

When I start, I tell myself: Maybe I'll finish something great. Maybe I'll die in the middle of it. But even if I do, what a thing to have died in the middle of! All I have to do is keep going, and if I don't die first, the thing will be accomplished. And I have a lot of practice at keeping going.

So let me ask you: what can you start (or continue) doing that's worth dying in the middle of? Are you organizing? That's worth dying in the middle of--any amount of organizing is better than none. Working to get out the vote? Win or lose, that work will be a foundation for whatever comes next. Running mutual aid? People need that all the time, no matter who's president.

So you get up in the morning, and you do the work, and you go to bed one day closer to finishing, one more day of not being dead. As the poet says, thus do we refute entropy.

There's a funny thing about life with a hole in my head: it's made me realize that, metaphorically speaking, everyone has one. Oh, maybe your skull is a more standard model than mine, but you're not guaranteed a live bedtime either. You could get hit by a bus today, or a blood vessel in your brain could explode, or you could suddenly discover a new and violent allergy with no epipen in sight.

You live in uncertainty too. You always have. You just don't get a reminder every time you run your fingers through your hair.

So take it from someone who can't forget her constant existential dread even if she wants to: you can do a lot one day at a time, especially if it's worth dying in the middle.

[beebotea]

hey, are you listening? — part 10

pairing : college au!xiao x f!reader . summary : in which uni students decipher vague tweets and emotions... + ie: second-year students y/n and xiao are forced to work through their term project (and feelings) as their friends attempt to meddle with their love lives ‘for the greater good’ . cw : swearing, slut-shaming, suggestive, reader she/her pronouns .

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10. saturday mornings

act 1, scene 1

As it turned out, Scaramouche’s stay at his mother’s house was unexpectedly cut short as she had to tend to business matters in the early mornings. Unluckily enough, his aunt Nahida also had to attend the same meeting which meant his weekend plans with his family were now zero to none. At least his mom was kind enough to pay for his gas for the trip back to his university campus.

“For fucks sake... can’t even properly plan out a weekend stay for your son,” he grumbled as he fiddled with the key to get into the dormitory apartment.

He looked around to see the house in a lot cleaner of a condition than he expected. It more or less looked the same as when he left, unclean dishes on the counter and all, save for the missing people strewn about the couches.

The guys are probably still sleeping and Y/N should be at home by now if Xiao promised to walk her last night.

Right as he was about to make his way to his shared room, he almost tripped over a pair of shoes that shouldn’t have been there.

“What the fuck?... Did she come back to study in the morning?” He muttered to himself, a little pissed that his new bestie didn’t have the decency to properly set her shoes out of the doorway’s path.

-

-

At least Cyno of the eight stooges was able to give him a solid suggestion...

Scaramouche grabbed Y/N’s phone off of Xiao’s desk and guessed her passcode based on the four digits of her birthdate. 

“Very secure.” He sarcastically mused to himself, as the phone unlocked. He found his way to the groupchat that seemed to include her two roomates, Hu Tao and Yanfei.

-

-

He turned off the phone and glanced back at his two friends who’s limbs were tangled around each other.

“Huh... she sleeps like Xiao. How convenient.” The indigo haired Inazuman quietly chuckled to himself before picking up the large body pillow that somehow ended up on the ground. He placed it at the foot of Xiao’s bed and quietly stalked out of the room, carefully closing the door behind him and turning on the room lights.

—

act 2, scene 1

Y/N groaned as the brightness of the lights slowly invaded her senses.

“Mm… Yanfei, give me a few more minutes…” She groaned, shifting to hold onto her body pillow in a more comfortable position.

However, something felt off…

The pillow was warmer than expect, her room was colder than is usually was, and the pillow was stiffer and bonier than she remembered.

In her sleep driven state, her hands moved across the pillow to gauge the differences as her eyes continued to refuse to open. Hmm… that’s odd. I don’t remember my pillow being lumpy and hard.

Before long, the pillow case fabric seemed to run out when her hand traded against a material akin to warm human skin.

Wait a minute.

Her eyes shot open, only to be met with a tussle of dark hair with turquoise streaks. The figure beside her shifted as her eyes adjusted to the light, the hair moving to reveal closed eyes and striking red eyeliner. She had been feeling up Xiao’s side the whole time.

Oh fuck. I’m still in Xiao’s room… aren’t I.

Had she been cuddling him the entire time? Her face heated up at the realization. Embarrassed and confused, she tried to leave the bed quietly, only to be made aware of the arms and leg that tightly wrapped around her, keeping her in place.

From this angle, she could see the beautifully detailed pale green tattoos that covered his toned arms. Y/N spared herself a few moments to admire him before pulling herself back to reality.

Y/N had no choice but to have her captor wake up and comply with her wishes to be freed.

“Xiao…” she whispered out, only to be met with no response.

“Xiao?” Still no answer.

“He’s going to be the death of me, oh god…” she sighed as she took her hand to gently shake him, “Xiao, wake up.”

“Hm?” The boy stirred, amber eyes fluttering open to sleepily meet hers. He stared at her silently as his mind adjusted to consciousness before the realization seemed to hit him.

His eyes widened in surprise.

“Y/N?”

He panicked as he looked around the room, realizing that he was holding her in a bear’s grip. He released her from her bindings with an apology before scanning his surroundings once again.

“Xiao, did we… we didn’t… while I was drunk, right?”

“Huh? Oh,” his face turned red, “no, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you… we also still have our clothes on.”

“Ah… right.” She couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed for jumping to such profound conclusions.

Xiao apologized again as he got up, sitting on the bed beside her. This time, he apologized for not being more responsible and ensuring that she got home as he promised.

They both agreed that they must’ve both fallen asleep while watching the stream and never woke up until morning.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Maybe two or three minutes before you woke up. The lights woke me up.”

“Oh… lights? I thought I turned them off when the stream started last night…”

“Huh, that’s weird because I remember that too. Did someone turn them on?”

As if summoned, the perpetrator entered the room upon hearing their voices.

“So the love birds are finally awake. Took you two long enough, it’s almost eleven.” Scaramouche smirked at Xiao and Y/N, who awkwardly sat on opposite sides of the bed while avoiding eye contact.

“Alright, alright, stop glaring at me like that. Get your teeth brushed or something. Oh, and Y/N, I already texted your friends to tell them you’re safe. Breakfast is ready on the table, you can use a spare toothbrush from the second drawer.” Before the two could respond, Scaramouche left as quickly as he arrived.

—

act 2, scene 2

“You can leave the toothbrush here or take it home. I’ll grab you a zip bag to put it in.”

“Thank you, Xiao.”

“No worries. You can go ahead to breakfast first. I’m going to take a shower. Tell me or the guys if you need anything, alright?”

“Okay. Oh, can I borrow something to wear? I feel kinda gross in yesterday’s clothes. I guess I’ll have to be in clothing debt to you again.”

“Sure, it’s no problem.” Xiao exited the washroom to grab a clean sweater and shorts, which she accepted with gratitude.

He couldn’t help but admire the pretty girl as she walked out of the washroom to model the new outfit compiled from his clothes for him. To Xiao, Y/N seemed to be the most adorable thing to ever grace his eyes.

“Comfy?”

“Very!”

“That’s good. I’m going to shower now. I’ll join you guys in a bit.”

“Got it.”

“So are you guys dating now or what?” Scaramouche smirked from the other side of the kitchen island as he finished preparing the five plates of pancakes.

“Please, for the love of the gods, shut up.”

“Fine, fine. I’m going to take that as a no… I’ll bother you about it later then.”

“Bother her about what?” Xiao entered the room, hair still damp and skin glowing as the four other inhabitants of the dorm turned to him.

Luckily, Scaramouche caught sight of Y/N’s death glare before turning to his cousin with a simple, “oh, nothing,” before handing Xiao his breakfast.

He took the plate and sat beside Y/N at the table, thanking Scaramouche for his cooking as he ate. Asides from Kazuha and Heizou bickering about something that had happened on the crime show they watched last night, the table was quiet.

Scaramouche eyed Y/N and Xiao suspiciously, who had barely looked at each other since brushing their teeth.

“Is everything okay between you two?” The indigo haired boy asked his cousin, which his question was answered by a curt nod.

“You sure? I know you don’t talk much in general but you’re oddly quiet.” He continued to whisper.

“I’m fine.” Xiao glanced over to see Y/N rolling a berry around on the plate with her fork, not paying attention to the conversations around her.

“Thanks again for the breakfast. I better head back home now, though.” Y/N smiled at the four boys after helping them clean up after breakfast and grabbing her bags.

“Sure thing, bestie.”

“I’ll walk you there.” Xiao spoke up.

“No it’s alright.”

“I promised you yesterday that I would.”

“Really, I’ll be okay, Xia—”

“I’m not keen on not keeping promises.” He interjected.

“Oh… alright then.”

They left the apartment building and continued down the street. Y/N had noticed how obviously perceptive and caring Xiao was as he subtly maneuvered himself to always end up on the side of the sidewalk closer to the traffic, or gently tapped her shoulder to tell her to walk when she was scrolling on her phone as they waited for the light.

It had become increasingly difficult for her to not overthink his kind and simple gestures. Especially since the two of them wasn’t exactly sure how to start a conversation after everything that had happened that morning. Less conversation time meant Y/N had a bit too much time to marinate in her thoughts.

Ugh… this is bad… I’m over thinking this way too much.

“Oh! The Puspa Cafe… I’ve been meaning to visit. I know a friend who works there.” She broke their silence.

“I know someone who works there too. Did you want to grab something to drink?”

“Sure. But I’m paying for us this time.”

“Whatever you say.”

The two enter the establishment and walked inside.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice called her over to the counter. “Gods, where have you been? We’ve all been worried sick for you! You didn’t answer any of our calls or messages!” The figure ran around the counter to hold Y/N tightly in their embrace.

“I didn’t? I don’t remember seeing any notifications… but anyways. I’m fine! See? I even have a personal body guard to bring me back home!” She giggled as her friend continued to squeeze the living daylights out of her for scaring them with her disappearance.

“Kaveh, let the girl go, you’re going to hurt her.” Another voice spoke up as its owner exited the back of house kitchen space behind the door.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Al-Haitham.” Kaveh said, still clinging onto his friend.

At this point, Xiao, who had been forebodingly standing to the side, had to step in and carefully peel his girl the girl from the blonde man’s grasp before she could suffocate.

“Xiao, I don’t see you here often.” Al-Haitian mused at his friend, smirking a little as he knew almost all too well about what had happened (and had the absolute pleasure of hiding it from Kaveh as his roommate freaked out the whole morning).

“She wanted to visit.” Xiao shrugged, eyeing Kaveh and Y/N as she explained to him what had happened.

“Is that so. So what can I get for you two?” The question pulled Y/N away from her conversation with her architect friend as she placed an order for the both of them.

Y/N and Xiao thanked the two roommates for the drinks before leaving the cafe to redirect themselves back to her building.

“Kaveh is such a mom, isn’t he?”

Xiao grunted in response, sipping on his coffee.

“He’s always making such a fuss of things, but I’m glad he cares for me. He’s such a good friend, right?”

“I care too.” Xiao abruptly said, causing Y/N to stop in her tracks.

She looked at him to see glaring at the drink in his hand, with an unreadable expression on his face. There was something that seemed to be bothering him. Did he not like Kaveh?

“Xiao? Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing. Come on, we’re almost at your building.”

“Oh… alright.”

They continued to walk, however Y/N couldn’t bring herself to find something else to talk about. Their walk had fallen back into the same awkward silence as was earlier. In a few minutes they reached their destination.

Xiao thanked Y/N for the coffee and she thanked him in return for walking her home and lending her his clothes.

“You don’t have to return them back immediately,” he turned his had away from her slightly before continuing, “I, uh, like how you look in them…”

She felt her face flush.

“Oh, uh— I…”

Just then, the door swung open, almost hitting her. If it weren’t for Xiao’s quick reflexes, Y/N would’ve surely been bonked on the head by the door. However, her cheeks were now hotter than before, as she found herself pushed against his chest with his hand on the small of her back.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yeah… I should go now… thanks again, Xiao.”

“I’ll see you soon?”

“Of course…”

“Alright, I’ll text you when I get home then.”

She quickly dashed through the opening elevator and slumped to the ground once the doors closed and he was out of sight.

“Shit…” she cursed to herself, face still hot and mind rushing with thoughts of her growing infatuation…

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a/n: apologies for late update… and the extensive amount of words o.0 I needed to get the ball rolling a bit faster which means more reading sadly. also… not proofread yet so this may not make sense T-T

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