#sometimes i just have to (HAVE to) take some time to reflect on stuff

[glowing-disciple]

I do 3D modeling and art as a hobby, so I thought I’d chime in here with some technical stuff that might be interesting or useful to know.

Right off the bat, software usually comes with the option to “smooth” a 3D mesh. This means the computer is taking the original mesh data and using some simple algorithms to increase the number of polygons in the model by a known amount.

This can be done as a one time thing or on the fly. The latter will create a performance penalty, but you can often get away with it if there aren’t too many other objects in the scene.

Either way, you can jump from the 600 triangles to the 6000 triangles example surprisingly easily with this method.

The next thing worth mentioning is that there’s more than one way to texture a 3D model. The tools I use are very complicated compared to some engines, so this might not necessarily apply to whatever engine a game uses, but it’s definitely worth checking out if you’re looking to save some rendering time.

In my software, textures can include a color map, bump map, transparency map, and reflection map. The color map is just what it sounds like: it’s the base texture, such as a character’s face or clothing image.

The bump map is grayscale, and causes the mesh to distort in a particular way. Combined with the smoothing effect, this can make some impressive changes to a basic mesh. However it does incur a performance penalty, so it’s sometimes better to just make a new mesh with the bumps already baked in.

The reflection map is also grayscale, and is used to tell the software which areas are able to reflect light and by how much. 99% of the time, leaving this blank will be just fine. Including reflections, as you can guess, causes a performance penalty.

But the transparency map is a god tier feature. It’s grayscale too, and tells the software which parts of the mesh are transparent and by how much. This doesn’t have much impact on performance, but it can improve performance when used correctly!

Let’s say we want to model a feather duster.

We could model the handle and then meticulously model each tiny feather separately. This would use a lot of polygons, and therefore be an absolute bitch to render.

OR we could model the handle and two slightly bent pyramids. Next, we draw the feathers on the pyramids, and make a transparency map based on this colored texture. Done correctly, it will look a lot like each feather is modeled separately, but there really aren’t many polygons there at all.

Hair is especially easy to manage with this technique, but it’ll work for anything that can be grouped into rectangles, like grass, leaves, hair, feathers, etc.

Of course, the simplest way to improve render time is to simply never draw anything that’s behind the camera. If the camera can’t see it, don’t render it.

this is a controversial opinion and I’m not a gamer but I don’t need my graphics to be that good. I don’t need to see every individual feather on a bird. my poor computer doesn’t deserve to carry that weight either.

[queer-omens-in-the-archives]

so we've spent the past three months writing MelloNear daily, and we've worked on enough different pieces in that time that i now have some Thoughts as to the narrative purposes they each tend to serve in our own works (this is not. about canon though i suppose it DERIVES from their canon dynamic. this is very much about how we personally play with the blorbos)

by and large Mello serves to drive the plot, regardless of the position he is put in within the universe. we don't even have to actively be trying to do anything with him -- even in our more Near-centric pieces, as long as Mello is present? his emotions, whims, wants are what shapes the trajectory of the story, his emotional beats are the beats that drive the plot forward. he feels, he impulses, he injects stuff into the sequence of events. things happen because Mello wants them to (or pushes Near to make them happen if/when he himself cannot).

meanwhile Near is much less of a driving force for the plot and more of a reflective force for the story. he isn't IRRELEVANT to the plot, he doesn't do NOTHING, but most of what he does from a plot progression standpoint is reactive. like, he acts not because of an inner drive, not based on his own wants or needs, but largely when his circumstances require action of him. (by circumstances i don't just mean Plot Events. sometimes what he reacts to are his own emotions, like in sweet atonement, when they are so overwhelming that he cannot put them aside to strategise effectively anymore -- the keyword here being "effectively", because even then his first response will still often be to try to strategise.) by and large what Near does do is provide space for reflection, for thought, for analysis. things happen to him, or through him, and he thinks about them a bunch, and he'd leave it at that if Mello wasn't pushing him.

so they make for super neat storytelling when you figuratively drop them together in a jar and shake them around, because it's like. Mello pushes Near into action Near wouldn't take on his own; and then Near adds weight to Mello's direction, provides a deeper sense of spacetime, fleshes out the places where Mello takes him that Mello wouldn't necessarily stop at or consider on his own. like at their core, in the way we write their dynamic, Mello Does and Near Is. and mixing them up, you get: all of the essential elements for a compelling story!

and obviously im not like, talking in absolutes, none of this is true 100% of the time or the only possible reading of them, nuance exists etc etc. but that's the general trends we're starting to notice in our own MelloNear writing over the past few months

[itspileofgoodthings]

you know what I’ve realized lately? that’s really helped? the axiom: it just doesn’t really make that much of a difference. Or at least it doesn’t when you’re talking about good things and not, like, doing good vs. doing evil. Big choices, little choices, decisions, decisions —it’s not just that they don’t matter in the grand scheme of things—because they do! —but just. It won’t make that big of a difference. Life will continue to be wonderful AND difficult, fascinating AND hopelessly mundane, full of roses AND thorns and all the other cliches whether you walk down one road or another. And you’ll get used to the joys and sick of the sorrows whatever they are, and you’ll be ungrateful and bored and dissatisfied in some measure some of the time and you’ll have to work on all the things you have to work on anyways and just. Yeah! It doesn’t make that big of a difference! Even the biggest things!

[abyssalpriest]

Damnit lev lmfao. I was thinking about Shiva wearing corpse ash being resonant for other reasons, something about his relationship with the Bright Skinned Ones and death and whatever. No, no. More fucking importantly: Oh I wonder why Shiva is known for. you know. wearing bodies. his appearance is a mass of bodies joined together. yeah

[aeide-thea]

like, someone posted an article recently that was like 'i didn't like these books because the main characters were women who slept with women but weren't sufficiently enlightened about it for me as a queer woman to feel Represented,' and i just felt like. i bet i wouldn't enjoy those books either, judging from the reviewer's description! but faced with a review that's like 'these characters had attitudes i found unpleasant'—iirc a tendency to ironic detachment and internalized fatphobia respectively, which, to be clear, i expect i would also find unpleasant! but those are attitudes that plenty of real young women do have; are we arguing it's only acceptable to tell stories about the sort of people we'd personally want to befriend?—'so i didn't find their stories nourishing,' it's hard for me not to think, okay, fair enough, but—should 'nourishing' really be the definitive metric for art? should 'savory'? an author's job is, after all, to make art, not food…

[missdynamighttt]

i wholeheartedly BELIEVE that bf! katsuki would make you sit on his lap and help you do your eyeliner when you struggle with it sometimes.

you were sitting at your vanity, getting ready to go out with katsuki to meet some friends. but you were struggling with your holy grail: your eyeliner. normally you'd be able to do it perfectly but something just felt off about today.

no matter how many times you tried, the pen (or maybe your hand) just wouldn’t cooperate. the wing was either higher or thicker than the other, and it seemed noticeable.

you wipe what feels like the umpteenth failed attempt with a sigh, catching your boyfriend's attention as he lounged on your bed.

katsuki noticed the frustration on your face, silently watching as you rubbed your eye for a few seconds before finally speaking up.

"havin' trouble?" he asked, his voice monotone as usual. from his spot on the bed, he could see just how annoyed you were.

you let out a frustrated sigh as you glance at your reflection in the mirror. it morphs into a pout as you attempt your eyeliner again, determined to perfect it. "uh-huh..."

katsuki chuckled at your pouty face, getting up and approaching you from behind. he looked over you, watching the failed attempts closely as his hands brushed your shoulder.

with a sigh, he offers a hand to you. "give it here. let me do it."

you contemplated, but then you recall how katsuki's eyeliner always looked flawless. your thoughts drift back to your days in ua, remembering how he would wear his hero costume with his eyeliner to fill in the gaps of his mask.

it was always sharp, precise, you fawned over him whenever he chose to do a cat-eye that day. it didn't fail to make him look a hundred times hotter.

"alright," a soft smile spreads across your lips, handing the eyeliner pencil to him. you looked up at him, waiting for him to start tracing.

but he had other plans.

katsuki instructs you to stand up, squeezing your shoulder. "get up, sweetheart," he says, his tone gentle but firm. "i'll take the seat and you can sit on my lap."

"oh, is that so?" you grin with a hint of suspicion. "i'm starting to think you have an ulterior motive, katsuki."

despite your teasing, you comply and get up from the chair, crossing your arms as you watch him settle into the seat.

katsuki rolled his eyes, a frown on his face from your comment. "hmph. maybe i just wanna help my girl out. poor thing can't even do her eyeliner." he looks up at you, his expression softening, and pats his thigh.

"now... c'mere, sweets."

you bite your lip and nod, moving to settle, straddling him on his lap. you can feel the firmness of his thighs beneath you, his hand on your hips, steadying you as he holds your eyeliner in the other.

katsuki scoffs as a subtle blush appears on his face, watching as you settle yourself on top of him. he wraps one of his strong arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

he was pretty close to you, reaching up to brush some hair out of your face. he hummed, gently angling your head, positioning your chin to get a better look.

"so..." he mumbles, studying your face for a moment, as if imagining the art he would put in his canvas. "stay still. i need to focus."

"or what?" you'll get a boner?"

"shut it, brat. you want me to do this or not?"

he scoffs as you nodded up at him with a cheeky grin, taking hold of the pen and bringing it up to your eyes.

"tch. remember what i said. stay. still."

katsuki carefully starts drawing the line, using his free hand to gently hold the skin around your eye.

he really does try his best to keep his cool. but its hard when he can feel your breath on his face, the warmth of your body, and your gaze. it's distracting as hell, but he keeps himself focused on the task at hand.

he's determined to perfect your eyeliner.

you couldn't help but watch him. the experience felt oddly intimate, despite doing way more explicit stuff with him. he's so focused, a look of intense concentration on his face as the eyeliner glides across your eyelid. it was kind of cute.

katsuki bites his tongue as he moves onto the other eye. he notices you staring at him, but he tries his best to ignore it. he doesn't want to mess up this eyeliner because of a simple, silly distraction.

but he would be lying if he said his heart didnt skip a beat. he takes a deep breath and continues, trying to steady his hand.

"quit starin', sweetheart."

"i'm not! where am i even supposed to look?"

you scoff, but make a conscious effort to keep your face still, avoiding any sudden movements so katsuki wouldn't suddenly smudge his work.

he huffs, adjusting you in his lap, inadvertently pulling you closer. your scent was driving him crazy, and the feeling of you on his lap was starting to get him worked up. it was becoming difficult to focus.

"anywhere else. pay attention to somethin' else."

"likeeeee?"

katsuki lets out a sharp breath and tries to distract himself. but it wasn't working.

the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to bend you over on the vanity and do unspeakable things to you. but no, he couldn't. he needed to finish this damn eyeliner first. and go out with a few friends before he has you for the rest of the night.

"i don't know. the ceiling, the damn wall... just somethin' that isn't me."

"aww, how come? you're not getting distracted from this, are you?"

his breath hitches as you tease him again. damn it. damn this woman. he was doing good on keeping it together until you started talking, but now it was getting difficult.

katsuki doesn't respond right away, he's too focused on your goddamn eyeliner, trying to ignore the feeling of you in his lap. he focuses intently on getting it right. but he could feel the heat starting to pool in his pants. he's not sure how much more of this he can take.

a tiny smile tugged at the corners of your lips, but you suppressed it, holding back the urge to annoy katsuki further. you waited patiently as he continues to draw the line, the pen gliding smoothly on your eyelid. you were super eager to tease him more.

katsuki finally finishes the last stroke, his hand shaking slightly as he puts the pen down. he tries to keep a neutral expression, but the heat in his face betrays him. he lets out a shaky breath and looks up at you, his eyes darkening as he locks eyes with you.

"there," he mutters, his voice hoarse. "finished it."

your eyes twinkled with appreciation as you looked at yourself in the mirror, running your fingers through your hair as you looked at his handiwork.

his work never failed to amaze you. his hand always such precision that made it great for things like this. you spun around to face katsuki, a giddy smile on your lips.

"oh my god, katsuki! you did an amazing job. holy shit, i look like a million bucks!" you leaned in and planted a big, sloppy kiss on his cheek, grinning widely. "seriously, i'm like, ten times hotter now! you're a genius!"

katsuki lets out a soft gasp when you kiss him, his blush deepening. he was relieved to finally be done with the eyeliner so he could put his focus elsewhere. he was happy you're happy. but now he has an entirely different problem... "yeah... i know. you look gorgeous, sweetheart. always do."

he swallows hard, his eyes focused on yours. he doesn't say anything at first, letting out a shaky breath as he processes how hot you look right now. all he wants to do is fuck you right there, show you how much he likes your eyeliner, but he's trying to hold himself back. he's not sure how long he'll succeed, though.

you notice katsuki staring off into space, head titled as a hint of concern crosses your features. you called out his name gently, voice laced with a note of amusement. "katsuki? baby, you with me?"

katsuki hums in response, his hands gripping your hips a little harder. he can feel himself getting more heated, your voice making him feel almost dizzy with desire. "mhm?"

as katsuki shakes his head and snaps back to reality, your can't help but bite your lip, suppressing a smile.

"you okay? you looked like a deer in headlights."

he lets out a sharp breath, letting his head fall to the crook of your neck. he knows you've noticed how riled up he is right now.

this is going to be harder than he thought.

"m'fine. just... just give me a second.."

a soft chuckle escapes your lips as you brush your fingers through his hair, affectionately playing with the strands. you smirk at his question, a hint of playful sarcasm lacing your voice.

"okay... for what, though? what you thinking about, tough guy?"

katsuki lets out a shudder at your touch, his grip on your hips tightening a bit more. you're a wicked, wicked woman to him. he lifts his head up to look at you again, his eyes roaming your body.

he can't even form a coherent thought, your touch sending jolts of heat straight through his body. this was not the time for you to play coy.

"you.. god, you.. need to stop that."

"stop what?"

he can feel his patience thinning rapidly. you're driving him wild, he has to do something about this.

"stop.. touchin' me," he mutters, his hand moves to grip your wrist, gently pulling your hand away from his hair.

you feign disappointment, lower lip sticking out in an exaggerated pout. you looked at him with a feigned look of dejection, gently shifting your weight as if preparing to leave his lap. "aww, okay. i guess i could get off your lap... but i was getting comfortable, y'know..."

katsuki immediately grabs your hips, anchoring them underneath him, stopping you.

"no. stay."

he lets out a shaky breath, his eyes looking up at yours. he's desperately trying to keep his cool, but his eyes are practically filled with lust. his body is aching for you, the heat in his stomach is slowly becoming uncomfortable.

he buries his head back in the crook of your neck. his hands rub your hips, squeezing the flesh softly, but with a firm pressure.

"i just need a damn minute."

you let out a soft, playful chuckle, enjoying how flustered he looks as you shift your weight in his lap, grinding against his crotch a little.

"for what? for it to go down?"

katsuki lets out a low, guttural moan against your neck when you do that, his grip on your hips tightening as his body responds to your touch. his head is clouded with a fog of lust, and he honestly can't think straight.

"shit.. stop that, jesus..." he whimpers out, his hands grabbing at your hips and holding you in place so you can't move. "for the love of god, stop movin' like that or i'll.."

"c'mon, katsuki.." you giggle softly, your voice is soft and sultry as you lean in, hot breath tickling his ear. "can we have some fun?"

your hands trail down his thighs, your touch sending shivers down his spine as you rubs and caress his legs, hands dangerously near his crotch.

katsuki shivers from the touch, his thighs muscles tensing under your touch. he lets out a shaky breath, trying desperately to find the willpower to resist you. but he's losing the battle faster than he knows.

he's completely at your mercy.

"we... we can't.. we have to leave soon.." he groans, his hands slowly traveling up your side and to your chest, his fingers rubbing against the soft flesh. "sweets, we're gonna end up skippin' the whole damn thing if you don't cut it out.."

you look up at him, biting your lip in anticipation. your hand dips beneath his waistband, fingers teasing along the sensitive ache in between his legs.

"can we be a little late, katsuki? please...?" you purr, your other hand tracing lazy circles across his chest.

katsuki lets out a deep moan as you touch him, his hips bucking slightly into your hand. his head falls back as you trail kisses down his jaw, his self-control starting to break. this is torture. pure, blissful torture.

your hand moves lower, gently fondling his length through the fabric. "just a few minutes..."

katsuki's breath hitches at the contact, he lets out a loud gasp and throws his head back at the feeling. his fingers dig into your side slightly as his body tenses up. he can barely focus on anything else besides your touch.

"goddamnit... f-fine, but only... only for a few minutes."

that was what katsuki said before he bent you over your vanity. needless to say, it wasn't just "a few minutes".

you were 2 hours late.

but even with your sex hair™, your clothes wrinkled and your disheveled look: your eyeliner still looked flawless.

and you had your boyfriend to thank for that.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ super self-indulgent as an eyeliner girlie oml 😞😞 sorry for the lack of smut, been struggling with school lately and i wanted to feed you guys!! to the people requesting, pls read that i cant accept them rn 😭 tysm!!

[alastorss]

Hi! I hope you're having a good day! I've been thinking, how would Alastor react to the reader casually saying stuff like "I like your laugh, it's nice," and "You voice is really soothing," out of the blue.

a/n: oh i loooooved writing this ^ ^ he would 100% be the type to try and hide that he actually likes the compliments but fail miserably. thank you and i hope you like this!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You'd like to say you know everything about Alastor, but that's far from the truth.

You know his mother's jambalaya recipe, sure, and that he takes his coffee black. You've memorized the intro of his morning broadcast, and learned the feeling of his chin propped on your shoulder.

There are pieces of Alastor you know like the back of your hand, but somehow you've never even scratched the surface of deciphering him. He was just like that, you suppose—an enigma wrapped in another mystery that would take a lifetime to unravel.

The only thing he liked more than his secrets was keeping them, after all.

And he especially enjoyed toying with you—dangling little tidbits of trivia about him in front of your face and snatching it away when you inevitably took the bait. He'd laugh about it, too, saying you were so adorable for trying.

For some time you had hypothesized that his ears were a good way of gauging his real thoughts about matters, but he was irritatingly good at controlling those as well. Not even the slightest twitch to give away his inner monologue.

"You are so annoying, you know that?" You once told him while brushing your teeth, words coming out muffled from your toothbrush. Minty foam gathered at your mouth while you glared at him through the reflection in the mirror.

He only laughed, as he always did, and propped his chin on your shoulder.

"How rude!" He chastised you playfully.

You leaned down to rinse your mouth. "I'm just saying," you muttered after standing tall again, "I wish I knew what was going through that head of yours sometimes."

Unsurprisingly, Alastor's expression was unreadable.

He opted to bite your cheek and walk away from the conversation after that, not bothering to enlighten you even slightly.

You watched him from across the bathroom, eyeing the way his shadow danced around him with a mind of its own before it disappeared into the darkness.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

His downfall began with a comment you made after you ended up falling asleep with your head on his shoulder.

He had been reading the latest article about the Vees to you out loud, practically singing his amusement with how terrible this column had painted out Vox to be. With fame came criticism, of course, and Alastor would happily sit there and criticize Vox all day if he could.

Your head hit his shoulder quick and he sighed, ears perking at the familiar sound of your slowing breaths. (He didn't bother waking you. It's not like he had much else to do at the time.)

"Your voice is so soothing," you shrugged when you finally awoke. "The static is like... comforting white noise for me, or something."

'Or something?' he wanted to ask.

He didn't, because he didn't really care for an explanation further than that. (He definitely didn't avoid prying because he felt something warm in his chest knowing you thought that way about him.)

It kept happening after that, as much as he wishes it didn't.

Little comments you slid into conversation so casually—tiny compliments and teases that drove him up the wall. They were softening him up, flattering him in dangerous ways.

The demon felt his sanity wearing thin with each passing day, making tremendous efforts to hide the way your slips made him warm.

He's sure he is about to crack. At any moment, his ears will flick or his cheeks will cherub with genuine joy because you can't keep your words to yourself. But he's done well for himself thus far, pat on the back, for not gratifying you.

He mentally groans when you join him at the bar, eyeing his drink. "It's the middle of the day," you point out.

"And you've come to scold me?" He tuts.

"I've come to join you, actually."

Alastor chuckles, voice missing it's usual static filter. He reaches over to pour you a glass when you smile at him.

"You have a nice laugh."

He nearly shatters the glass in his hands.

You snicker quietly, leaning over the bar to creep under his face which is scrunched up in concentration.

"What's wrong? I like your laugh, you should do it more!"

Taking a deep breath, the Radio Demon reaches over to pinch your nose. You yelp and jerk away from him, glaring.

"Flattery will get you nowhere~" he sings.

Your head tilts to the side in confusion. There's a smugness to your gaze that makes him feel like a trapped animal, and he realizes that you've known all along what you've done to him.

"Oh, but I think it does," you laugh, nodding to his shadow burned into the floor.

Its smile is uncharacteristically soft, missing all semblance of its usual fangs and sharp edges. Howling in embarrassment, the shadow dives away, abandoning its owner to confront you alone.

All this time, his shadow had been the one betraying him. Through all the times he had forced his ears to stay rigid, with all the effort to maintain his mask of indifference, you'd seen where he had overlooked.

His jaw clenches so hard he can feel his teeth grinding into each other. "You are perceptive, my dear."

"No," you giggle. "You're just bad at hiding how you feel. I think it's cute."

Alastor glowers at you, but his ears flop back and forth atop his head at your praise anyway.

~

taglist (i totally forgot i'm sorry!!): @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 (send and ask to be added!)

[fibretwo]

˚₊‧⁺⋆♱ Cure Fasting Boredom ⋆⁺‧₊˚

“Oh, I’m fasting, but I’m incredibly bored!!“ — so what I’m hearing is that you have nothing to do except eat? Or you eat when you’re bored..? Well, that needs to be fixed, but fear not, that will come with time. Keep fasting by the way, you’re doing great! So well in fact that I’ve actually compiled a list of things that you can do to keep yourself occupied!!

1. Make a playlist

2. Find some new music

3. Listen to music!

4. Take a shower

5. wash your hair

6. cut your hair?

7. dye your hair, even?

8. paint your nails

9. put on a perfume you barely wear

10. brush your teeth

11. put on some makeup

12. make a pinterest board of makeup looks and try them out!

13. wash your clothes

14. lay outfits on your bed and take photos/write them down

15. make some “for when i’m skinny outfits” and take photos/write them down

16. meditate

17. compile things that trigger you (YouTube Playlists, Pinterest boards, Screenshots of tumblr posts etc!!!)

18. Go for a walk

19. Walk to the supermarket and look at food (maybe i just like doing this)

20. walk to ur local train station and go to the mall OR!! walk to the mall (sorry if you live in buttfuck no where 😓)

21. journal!! prompts vvv

22. write down everything that’s keeping you going

23. write down all the things you want to eat when ur at ur ugw

24. write down your safe foods

25. write down your fear foods

26. write some triggers

27. write some thinspo quotes

28. reflect on yourself

29. get to know yourself

30. look at journalling prompts on pinterest

31. vent

32. brain dump

33. put lipstick on and cover a page in kisses

34. draw thinspo

35. draw an oc

36. try finding your art style if you don’t draw often

37. draw a scene you remember from your childhood

38. do a jigsaw puzzle

39. find a deck of cards and order them

40. study!!!

41. practice an instrument

42. look for jobs if your unemployed

43. go out with friends

44. talk to online friends

45. text ur irl friends

46. play minecraft

47. clean your room

48. de clutter draws & desks

49. make a thinspo board on pinterest

50. Make a pinterest board with all those facebook mom weight loss motivation quotes and things (they have a special place in my heart, okay?)

51. watch media that has characters w/ EDs in them. i recommend To The Bone (ofc), Skins (Cassie), Gossip Girls (Blair), Heathers (Heather Duke), Heartstopper (Charlie Spring)!!

52. find low calorie recipes

53. practice an instrument

54. contour your bones

55. write down rewards for when you reach another gw (eg, perfumes, new scales, new clothes, safe foods)

56. listen to some ED podcasts (i rlly like SciGuys Ep #201 and DRAMA MAMA Ep #32)

57. sometimes i watch swan liyah on YT

58. Make yourself some ice cold water

59. Fill up the ice cube tray (this is personal, i usually do this when i’m bored)

60. Commentary YouTubers 🙏

61. ED short films on YT

62. ED documentaries on YT

63. Quora ED stuff can be triggering too!!

64. Have a bath

65. De-clutter your phone

66. Get out there and reblog a whole bunch of stuff!

67. Duolingo

68. paint

69. haha 69… uh, read a book!

70. Stalk my ED Pinterest Account: https://pin.it/6IDHsH7jh

(it’s very cool i promise)

71. watch ED WIEIAD videos on youtube

72. look for different diets

73. watch cooking videos and save recipes for when your skinny

74. Make a playlist of workouts to try (reminder, you don’t have to work out when ur fasting<3)

75. write a letter to someone

76. practice your handwriting

77. Walk all the way to your local supermarket, get some gum and/or sugar free soda and walk back

78. hold a little fashion show for yourself

79. Listen to those songs you never got around to

80. Get into that artist you’ve never had time to get into

81. watch that show you’ve never started

82. Look into poetry

83. Write a poem

84. make a bookmark

85. draw one of your friends to give to them (no matter how poorly, it’s funnier when it’s bad)

86. Have a dance party, why tf not?

87. put beads on some of your shoelaces

88. Headphones up, eyes closed, laying on your bed blasting your favourite song. Just let yourself be surrounded by the music for a moment. It really helps your mood

89. Mess with spotify equalisers

90. Try some hairstyles out

91. straighten/curl your hair

92. watch a tim burton film

93. Watch a Studio Ghibili film (it helps to have an activity to do at the same time, like literally anything else on the list)

94. look at halloween costumes you can wear next halloween when your skinny

95. heal your inner child and watch a childhood show!!

96. sew something!

97. learn to sew? :)

98. make some jewellery

99. FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS!!

100. research a random topic (band backstories and mythology are my favourite!!!)

101. Look into the biology of a human digestive system (there’s a video of digestion we had to watch in school once that you can find on YT and it’s so gross and triggering)

102. look at mouldy pictures of food

103. watch time lapse videos of food decomposing

104. count loose change

105. burn your favourite candle because if not now the when?

will add more when i think of them! stay safe and do what feels right for you, don’t push yourself just stay disciplined

Take care <3

[4zayne]

𐙚 — you look just like a dream.

⟢ summary: headcanons of zayne as your boyfriend!

꒰ pairing ꒱ : zayne (love and deepspace) x fem!reader

꒰ word count ꒱ : 417 (short again..)

author's note 𑁤 : zayne my baby 😭 i love him so much and had to do some hcs for him too :3 lmk if you'd like to see more of these for the others! i'm gonna try and get some more stuff out trust <3

zayne loves shopping with you (despite how long you guys shop for and the amount of bags you leave with). he loves buying you things, whether it be cute clothes, jewelry, food. he just enjoys seeing your pretty smile.

zayne always has his guard down around you. he finds himself vulnerable when he’s with you, it’s like all walls and barriers disappear and he can just be himself and enjoy your company without having to worry about anything.

zayne reluctantly goes to cat cafes with you whenever you pass by one. he’s not very good with cats and they often run away from him, but it’s the opposite with you. they seem to love you, and they don’t mind him when your around so he supposes it's not that bad. 

zayne helps blowdry your hair after you shower, making you stand still in front of the bathroom mirror while still in your bathrobe. he enjoys doing these little things for you, it’s the least he can do since you’re so good to him.

zayne is always keeping an eye on you. mostly for health related reasons since sometimes you forget to take your medicine or don’t keep up with your weekly checkups. and when that happens, he’s often scolding you and making sure you take your medication on time and setting alarms on your phone so you don’t miss your appointments. 

zayne also knows when you’re on your period. once learning about your menstrual cramps and whatnot due to research and prior knowledge of it, as well as your mood swings, he’ll already have stuff prepared for you. pads, chocolate, red date tea, a heating pad: you name it. he’ll also massage your stomach whenever certain remedies don’t work or when he just wants to, just being next to you to comfort you and help you feel better is enough for him. 

zayne loves taking late night strolls with you. when it’s cold outside and you’ve forgotten your gloves at home, he’ll slip your hand into his pocket while holding your hand in his own. enjoying the scenery of the city, the bright lights, the way they reflect off your eyes, that happy expression on your face when you see a food stand with a delicious menu. it reminds him of how lucky of a man he is to have you, a man with a heart that constantly suffers from a great frost that you manage to melt with your warm touch. you're his dream come true.

© 4zayne do not reuse, steal or translate.

[avpdpossum]

can we talk more about avpd being a (proposed) schizospec disorder? because i almost never see that theory talked about but i wish it was. like…

avpd makes me censor my thoughts because i think someone might hear what i’m thinking and see what a horrible person i am on the inside or judge me for thinking embarrassing things.

avpd makes me so afraid of someone walking in on me doing something i Shouldn’t Be Doing that my brain twists background noise into the sounds of whispers and footsteps behind me.

avpd makes me so worried about people staring at me that in my peripheral vision, anyone near me looks like they’re already staring at me, and it’s only when i look at them directly that i realize they’ve been looking in a totally different direction the whole time.

avpd makes me so convinced of how much everyone must secretly hate me that i often start thinking everyone secretly wants to hurt me too, to the point where i’ve had panic attacks from a person walking too close behind me because i feel like they’re getting ready to attack me (when i haven’t had any kind of trauma that would create that fear), and the paranoia just serves to reinforce my need to avoid people.

avpd makes me lose my ability to speak or reduces it to nothing more than one word answers only when spoken to, turning the thoughts i wanted to express into a jumble that’s impossible to turn into words or just throwing them away completely and making my mind go blank, so i end up just staring at people silently or even acting like i don’t see them standing there at all (not on purpose but because my brain won’t let me engage with them).

avpd makes me look damn near emotionless around everyone but my safe person (and sometimes even around my safe person) because showing my emotions would be far too vulnerable for its liking, so it completely takes away my ability to express them.

and i could keep going! there are so many things i experience because of avpd that i’ve seen really closely reflected in the experiences of schizospec people. i don’t know how common these kinds of things are in avpd overall, but they’re a really prominent part of my experience with it, so when i found out that some research suggested it could be considered a schizospec disorder itself, that made so much sense to me! and i’d be so curious to see how many other avoidants have dealt with this stuff but haven’t talked about it because it’s never mentioned as being part of avpd.

[ataraxiaspainting]

The Floor is Breathing.

Yan Overhaul x F Reader. 

Synopsis: You feel like both the witness and the victim in an uncommitted crime.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, manipulation, stalking/non-consensual recording, mentions of binge eating, and some infantilization.

Word Count: 1k.

*~*~*~*

You can swear that these white walls blink.

Something, somewhere here, has eyes that look you up and down – you feel its breath on the back of your neck when you fall asleep facing a wall, the only decorated wall you have ever seen in this facility, actually. 

You’re not crazy. You have to remind yourself day in and day out of that fact, but you’re not crazy; you know another living being is in here with you, watching attentively.

Overhaul – no, “Kai” is what he forces you to call him now, says that there are no cameras in your room, but your gut screams otherwise.

You asked if he was sure, once, two days or four days, or six days ago – it should still be recent as you did not feel as isolated as you do now – and he responded by saying if he really wanted to keep a closer eye on you, he would just become your new roommate.

You’re unsure as to if that was a threat. He seemed happy when those words came out of his masked mouth, so perhaps it was just some unfunny gest. He made those sometimes, especially when he tries to coax you into taking vitamins every mealtime. Those jokes were as dull as the light brown and white pills piled up in a little cup meant for dipping sauces. Perhaps it was repurposed or Kai had ordered some from somewhere or he has some restaurant under his control somewhere.

Somewhere so dirty and filled with sugar and oils and artificial coloring. You’d die for just a sniff of pizza being served at an all-you-can-eat buffet or deep-fried cakes being served at a pop-up carnival. If health inspectors didn’t approve of such spots, or at the very most give them a C rating, then Kai wouldn’t go within two blocks of them. Much less let you. You’d stuff yourself to the brim like it is your last meal and compared to the boiled chicken and rice and broccoli you were given daily, chips and cookies may as well be.

A call of your name makes reality come back faster than a slap to the face – and hurts just as much.

“I asked you something, sweetheart. What do you want to do today?” Kai asks.

He didn’t seem angry or irritated as he repeated himself. His voice was still soft and the way he taps his foot against the pastel pink heart carpet reflects that. Times like these almost make you wish you were deaf. The words feel rehearsed but also feel as though they are straight from the heart like the actor was passionate enough in reciting their lines or was grossly in love with the story of the show. 

“I don’t know,” Unlike Kai, you forget your script quite often – aside from that one saying.

“You don’t know?” He’s still smiling. You know it.

“No.” You murmur. He puts an elbow on the small white table, stabilizing his head with his gloved hand. “I don’t.”

“I have some ideas,” The feeling of dread makes your stomach drop. Or was it your heart? Lungs, perhaps? You don’t know how to breathe right now, after all.

“I… don’t know, Kai.”

“You said that already.”

For your sanity, you choose to look at your freshly remade bed instead of his eyes. The rabbit plush you were given on your third or so day here lays alone on top of your singular pillow. The bars surrounding the sides reminded you of a crib. You’re only allowed to put your legs over the railing when Kai comes to your room in the morning and you’re not allowed to get out by yourself; he grabs your hand to assist you.

“Do you want to know what my ideas are?”

You’re not allowed to say no to anything Kai suggests. It’s an unspoken rule, unlike the ones for your room. “Um… okay…”

“Well,” Kai begins, his other arm being laid out on the table. His palm is facing upwards and you know what that means.

Your hand moves towards his – you try your best not to flinch this time in response to his slight grip, but you fail.

Kai chooses not to notice it for now. Just a small treat for this morning’s hug.

“I was thinking we could go to my office. Just for a change of scenery.” His thumb moves back and forth across your knuckles. “We could bring your colored pencils or your book if you’d like. It’s still noon, so we have some time before your daily check-in.”

“Okay…”

*~*~*~*

You had opted for your book in the end, although you regret your choice now because two of the four walls in Kai’s office have windows, and just outside of them were uncrowded streets that lead up to small hills on either side. The hue of the grass was off – a dull brown – but considering it was about time for autumn to roll around, you didn’t judge. Not that you could, anyway.

Could you ask to go back and get your colored pencils? You attempt to dismiss the thought by imagining future possibilities. Kai seems to be working on his computer right now though, and the guards outside wouldn’t let you leave by yourself anyway.

To hell with it, you think. It’s fine. He won’t get mad. 

At least… you hope so.

You walk over slowly until you are nearly touching his left shoulder. “Can I please get my colored-”

It’s you, from different angles and at different times of day – even some videos of you before you were kidnapped. They are of you sleeping, of you eating, of you looking under your bed. They are of you putting on socks, of you microwaving dinner after a long workday, of you talking on the phone with friends for hours. They are long and short – you can see some of them even repeat. Oh fuck. Is there a camera in this room too, or-

Before you can continue analyzing, Kai slams his laptop shut.

“Go back to reading, sweetheart.” It’s an order – you know it from the way he does not blink and the way his arms cross. He didn’t want you to see his screen; that fact is as clear as a cloudless sky. “You can color another day, okay?”

[harrietswriting]

Hii! Could you do a dally x reader where he comes to pick her up for a date but she’s no where near ready, so he just comes up to her room to sit and watch her and looks through all her stuff and makeup? Thank you <3

an: Such a cute request thank you!! this took way too long and I don't even like it that much I'm sorry 😭 1.1k words. Please leave more requests

W: little swearing I think, flufff

Dallas Winston x fem!reader

He watches you get ready

You had woken up late.

You have a breakfast date with Dallas at 8:30 and you woke up at 8:06. You practically had a heart attack when you saw the time. Stupid alarm didn't go off! What the hell! Was it trying to sabotage your relationship? You had brushed your teeth, finished your skin care, and started to take your curlers out when your door bell rang. Oh God. You rushed to answer it. You were so embarrassed. You were panicky, flushed, in a robe, and had half of your curlers still in your hair. So, it was not a surprise to see the look of concern on your boyfriend's face when you opened the door.

"I'm so sorry! My stupid alarm didn't go off and I only woke up like 25 minutes ago," you say quickly, trying to explain your state. You felt awful.

"Woah, hey. It's fine." Dallas steps inside. "Go finished getting ready."

"It's going to take me a while." You say sadly.

"That's fine. Just means I get to spend more time with you." He says simply.

You can't help but smile. "Okay."

"Or you could just go like this. Its a great look." He teases, glancing at your hair.

You roll your eyes, but a smile is plastered on your face. "Be quiet. C'mon." You grab his hand and drag him to your bedroom. Once inside, you let go of his hand and side down at your vanity. You resume taking out your curlers.

Dallas sits down on the edge of your bed and watches you as you carefully brush you your curls then spray some hair spray on them. Then, you get out your makeup.

Dallas finds himself getting bored just watching you, so he gets up and walks over to your bookshelf. He studies the titles for a bit, recognizing books he's seen you read. You glance over at him as he opens your jewelry box and looks through it.

"What're you doing?" You ask as you watch him.

He turns his head towards you. "I don't know. Lookin'." He shrugs and turns his attention back to your jewelry. He a small smile appears on his face as he finds pieces he gave you.

"Okay." You look into your mirror again and resume blending your concealer.

Dallas fingers through your necklaces and bracelets for a few moments before getting bored again. He closes the jewelry box and walks over to you. He is about to talk to you when he spots your journal, so he picks it up and opens it.

It takes you a moment to notice what he did. "Uh- hey! That's my journal, Dallas." You reach for it, but he holds it out of your reach.

"So?" He scans a page and annoyingly smirks.

"So that's private stuff." You get out of your chair and try to grab it again, and this time, surprisingly, he lets you. What did he read?

"What?" You ask because his stupid smirk doesn't leave his face.

"Nothing." His smirk remains and his hands slide into his pockets. "You write sappy shit in your journal."

You blush a little and put your journal back. "Yeah, cause it's supposed to be private." You respond, sitting at your vanity again. "Now stop distracting me or this'll become a lunch date."

He sighs and mopes back over to your bed. He sits down again and looks at your reflection in the mirror. He thinks you are absolutely beautiful. God, he'd do anything for you, and that scares him sometimes.

"Hurry up. I'm hungry." He tells you.

"I'm sorry, Dal. I'm trying."

"Mhm." He messes with his ring for a bit before getting up and walking back over to you. He leans down and grabs your jaw. He kisses your cheek then lets go. You can't help but smile.

"You look damn good, babe." He runs a hand through your hair as you turn your head towards him.

"Thank you." Your heart picks up a little. "I'm almost done with my makeup, then I'll just need to change."

"Good. Chop chop, come on." He urges you.

You laugh a little and do the last of your makeup. Dallas watches with such admiration. You're gorgeous. When you finally finish and look at him, he can't stop himself from smiling.

"I'm done." You say

"Finally. Go get dressed."

You put your hands out. "Help me up, baby."

He huffs in protest, but he grabs your hands and pulls you up and against his chest. Dallas stares down at you. He finds your smile is so infectious. He grins back. You stand on your tippy toes and peck his lips.

"I thought I was supposed to hurry up, love." You squeeze his hands.

"You are." He lets go of your hands. "Go change, doll."

You let out a small giggle and start to walk toward the closet. You look over your shoulder at him. "I got a new dress a few weeks ago that I haven't gotten to where yet. It's real pretty."

He smirks at this, his ego spikes when he learns he'll be the first to see you in this dress. "I can't wait to see it, y/n."

You open the closet door and step in. You get out the dress. A cute baby blue cocktail dress with a white accent and a white bow around the waist. You come out and proudly hold it up.

"Put it on, doll."

"Okay." You go into the closet again and close the door, you take off your robe and slip into the dress. You were careful not to mess up your hair or makeup. A cute pair of white heels you hadn't wore in awhile catch your eye, so you slip them on. You open the door of the closet. Dallas has your journal in his hands again. He looks up and smirks.

"Sorry, doll. Couldn't help it." He puts the journal back then let's his eyes scan over you.

You sigh and decide to forgot it, for now. You smile again. "How do I look?"

He walks closer to you and his hands find your waist. "You look incredible."

Your face heats up and you look down, your smile remains.

"Ready to go?" He puts a hand on your chin and gently lifts your head to have you look up at him.

You nod. "I'm sorry again that i wasnt ready and-"

"Sh, baby, I don't care."

You shyly smile, glad he doesn't care, and loving being called "baby". He takes your hand and off you finally go to your breakfast date.

An: I'm so excited for Christmas I'm tweaking out. I love gift giving so much. Please leave requests! Happy holidays!!

[pickingupmymercedes]

Boy from Stevenage - Lewis Hamilton

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: none, tooth rooting fluff, Lewis being vulnerable

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Felt like fluff was due, so totally self-indulgent nonsense I wrote after hearing bits of his speach for his GQ Awards.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

You leaned against the doorway as Lewis moved restlessly across the room, his brow furrowed with concentration. A braid kept falling into his face, and he kept tucking it behind his ear. He muttered to the reflection in the mirror, his expression serious as he practiced his speech for the GQ Awards ceremony, rehearsing it with the same intensity he would study race tracks.

A smile tugged at your lips. It was endearing, this nervous energy that usually only manifested before a race, and that so few got to see, filling the master bathroom of his NYC apartment. Tonight, however, the only race was against his stubborn desire to perfectly deliver his message.

When he finally sighed in frustration, you decided to fully enter the room. He caught your reflection in the mirror, and his face softened, the tension momentarily lessened.

"Hey," you tilted your head, offering a small smile.

He straightened, taking a deep breath. "Hi. How long have you been there?"

You shrugged, reaching for the fingers that gripped the marble. "A minute or two. Just… watching the master at work."

He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "More like a nervous wreck."

He gestured vaguely to the crumpled paper clutched in his hand. "Do you think it's alright? I don't want to sound… pompous."

You reached out for him, turning his face to look him in the eye, your fingers smoothing the worry lines on his brow with your thumb. "Lewis," you started, your voice soft. "Nobody's going to think you're pompous. They're going to be captivated."

His eyes, the warm brown that stole your breath every time, met yours with a glint of nervousness. "You really think so?"

A soft smile and chuckle spread through your features. It was a challenge, putting your admiration for him into words. You weren’t one for grand gestures or over-the-top declarations. It was in the quiet moments, the shared understanding, the unspoken language that existed only between the two of you that you showed him how much he meant to you.

"They'll all be in love with you," you finally said, a loving spark in your eyes. "Just like I am."

He chuckled, a hint of relief washing over him. "Smooth, (Y/N)."

You took his hand, gently pulling him away from the mirror. "Come on," you said, urging him towards the plush armchair in the bedroom nestled by the window. "Let's forget about speeches for a while."

He followed willingly, sinking into the chair with a sigh as he dragged you down with him. You settled on his lap, pulling your legs comfortably on top of his on the stool. The city lights became a shimmering backdrop to your comfortable silence.

"I’m really proud of you," your voice barely above a whisper as your fingers danced on his chest and he looked out the window.

His hand automatically sought yours. You squeezed gently. "More than you can imagine," you admitted.

"Sometimes it all feels a bit overwhelming," he confessed, his voice raw. "The platform, the attention, the expectation to be a voice for everything."

"You don't have to be a voice for everything, though," you countered, your voice firm as he locked his gaze on your intertwined fingers. "But what you do choose to speak up about… that's what makes me so proud."

He looked at you, his eyes searching your face. "Even the stuff that makes some people uncomfortable?"

You let out a proud smile and a knowing giggle. "Especially those. You use your platform to speak when others won’t."

He squeezed your hand, gratitude evident in his tone and his eyes. "Maybe you should be writing the speeches after all."

You laughed, a soft sound that filled the room. "You just need to be reminded that you're Lewis Hamilton, not a nervous rookie on his first podium."

You leaned your head against his shoulder, his arms embracing you as he turned his head, placing a soft kiss on your temple. "Thank you, love. But we really need to get going," he whispered, just before he picked you up and put you back down on the armchair, heading back to the bathroom.

As Lewis got in the shower, you couldn't help but steal a glance at the crumpled speech in his hand. You knew he wasn't one to brag about his achievements, but a part of you yearned to understand the weight of the words he was struggling with.

Carefully, you reached out and picked up the paper. It was filled with Lewis's handwriting, edits scrawled across some lines. You scanned the opening, your heart swelling. It wasn't about self-praise or glorifying his victories. It was a heartfelt dedication to the countless individuals who had supported him on his journey, from his early days karting in Stevenage until now.

He spoke of his family, the unwavering pillar behind him, their sacrifices paving the way for his dreams. He mentioned his mentors and heroes, those who had nurtured his talent and those who had inspired him to push to be his best. He even acknowledged his rivals, the competitors that had honed his skills and fueled his relentless pursuit of excellence.

But then, there was a section that was heavily underlined, a paragraph riddled with question marks and crossed-out phrases. It was about the kids that he hoped to have inspired.

He wrote about the grounding effect they had on his own path. He spoke of how he, too, was an impressionable young boy, wishing for something greater.

You knew sometimes Lewis struggled to express his emotions openly, yet here he was, trying to articulate the depth of what it meant to him to be put on the same pedestal as his heroes.

It was the written proof of how much this award, how much this entire platform, meant to him – a chance to not just be Lewis Hamilton, the champion, but Lewis, the boy who had aimed for the stars and received the moon as a gift.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. You pictured the faces in the opulent ballroom, expecting a typical self-congratulatory speech from the motorsport legend. The surprise on their faces when Lewis poured his heart out, his voice thick with a vulnerability they wouldn't have anticipated, would be priceless.

He may be a titan on the racetrack, but here, in the quiet intimacy of the apartment, he was simply Lewis, the man who might fumble with expressing his emotions but whose actions spoke volumes.

As you two rode in the backseat towards the gala, the city lights morphing into a mesmerizing dance of colors, you snuggled closer to Lewis, his steady breathing a comforting rhythm.

"Hey," you whispered, tracing a finger across the back of his hand.

He jolted out of his thoughts, his eyes looking for yours. "Hmm?"

"You know," you began, searching for the right words, "you don't need to win over that entire room tonight. You just need to make that brave boy from Stevenage proud."

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[miyukisu]

Talk Like That .ᐟ

❤︎ | Who would have thought that your quiet and stoic boss had such a dirty side to him? (2.7 wc) ╰ feat. hiromi higuruma (jjk) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 3 | kinktober masterlist

tags - degradation, office sex, semi-public sex, hiromi is very mean, paralegal! reader, spanking, punishment, p in v, blowjob, pussy eating, doggy, protected sex

minors do not interact

H I R O M I H I G U R U M A

You passed by those bold letters plastered across the matted glass of his office almost everyday. After all, your office was a little bit down the hall from his.

Everyone in the firm knew who Hiromi Higuruma was. For one, he was perhaps the most talented man working there. But also because he was the finest man you have ever laid your eyes upon.

Hiromi always came to work looking sleek and prepared for the day. You would never catch him dead with tousled hair or his suit disheveled.

In fact, people slowly became jealous of his secretary. She spent all hours of her working day right in front of his office, relaying calls to him, and accompanying him in several errands.

It was ridiculous. His secretary probably had grandchildren at her age. But you understood why anyone would be jealous.

Part of you wanted to spend time with the stoic and brooding man too. But it was tough. Too fucking tough.

He wasn't the type to engage in pleasantries or make himself available for too long at office events. You've been working at the firm for so long, yet you barely knew anything about him outside of his achievements. It was almost impossible, you thought.

That was until you, as a paralegal, were requested by him.

────────────

All those years of hard work finally paid off now that the biggest shot at the firm took notice of you. It was your chance to prove yourself at work and to Hiromi. Of course, it was a primary goal to impress him.

The case was demanding, a high-profile one at that as well. It was no surprise that you had to spend many sleepless nights at the office. But you weren't alone—Hiromi was often left to work late hours too.

Sometimes you'd drop off a file or two and discuss a bit. Ordinary stuff, all things considered. However, tonight was different; tensions were high.

You had made a mistake earlier today. You missed a detail and the client had to know about it. There was a whole scene in the office that afternoon. Hiromi had to clean up after your mess. None of it was his fault and he had to embarrass himself for the sake of some paralegal he probably only learned the existence of recently.

Usually, you'd be ecstatic to catch a glimpse of him so late at night. But right now, he was the last person you wanted to see. Hiromi didn't show it, but he was definitely angry.

────────────

You knocked slowly against the open glass door of his office. You were sure it was just the two of you in the building at this hour. At least, if he decides to reprimand you for your shitty performance—no one would have to hear a thing.

Hiromi didn't bother looking up; he knew who it was. He simply nodded in acknowledgement and you let yourself in.

"Here are the files you were asking for earlier," you say as you hand it over to him. Hiromi uses the pen in his hand to point to an empty space of his desk.

It takes you a few seconds too late to understand, but you place the documents neatly before taking a step back. He continued skimming over the document he was currently holding, a bored expression painted on his face.

"Learned your lesson yet?" he asked flatly.

You were hoping not to go over this again, but it was inevitable. "Yes, sir... I'm terribly sorry for what happened earlier. It won't happen again."

"Words... always just words, but it never gets reflected in your performance," he retorts. Hiromi sets down the document in his hand before grabbing the papers that you brought. Still—he hasn't spared you a single glance.

Despite the impartial look on his face, you could tell that he wasn't exactly happy at the moment. You nervously awaited for a comment or critique from him about your work as he proceeded to go over it quickly.

"Are you sure I won't find another mistake in here?"

"Y-yes, sir. I'm certain."

He hummed lowly. "Then I better not see one. You know what'll happen if I do."

Right. You were going to be removed from the case and some other paralegal would take your place. Then, Hiromi would never ever look your way. That fact in particular made you the most anxious you've been thus far.

You watched as his weary eyes scrutinized your work. The black orbs darting quickly from one side to another, his lips still pressed into a thin line.

If you had hoped he would dismiss you without another scolding... oh, you were dead wrong.

Hiromi's eyes squinted at a particular line before dropping the documents on his desk and running his large hand over his face. You felt the blood drain from your face and your heart drop to your stomach. This wasn't good...

He finally looked at you, but with that kind of expression—you'd rather that he not looked at you at all. His dark eyes bore into your skull. No words were spoken yet, but you knew the thoughts running rampant in that head of his.

None of them were good.

"You were certain you made no mistakes—yes?"

"I'm sorry," was all you could mutter. What else was there to say? Nothing would soothe his wrath.

He slammed an open palm against his desk. "What the hell do you do all day in this office? Hm?"

Hiromi stands up, not letting you reply. "Come here," he commands. You had never heard me speak or had seen him look this way. But the stress and frustration at work—coupled with his personal affairs—simmered within him. He was only a man; he too had his limits.

You sheepishly shuffled closer to his desk, head hung low.

"Look at me."

And you do.

Your eyes meet and it stirs an emotion in you that you can't quite put a finger on. He leans in, his smell permeating your nostrils and down to your core. Hiromi smelled good, of course, that much was to be expected.

"Tell me—what the hell do you do all day in this office?"

"I don't know what..."

"You don't know what that means? Can't even answer a simple question?"

He grabs your jaw slowly, applying just enough force to make your lips pucker. "Do you know how humiliated I was earlier because of your mistake?"

You mutter another apology, albeit a bit muffled. Hiromi scoffed in response. "Is that all you can do? Say sorry for every stupid mistake that you make?"

"I'm starting to think all you do here is prance around in your tight clothes, batting your eyelashes at anyone who'd look at you. You like their attention, don't you?"

Hiromi lets go of your face, giving you a chance to speak. "I don't... I don't want their attention... I don't do the things you just said... I..."

"I only want your attention."

His taut expression seemingly softened, though traces of anger were still evident. You added, "Maybe I was trying too hard because I wanted to impress you and in the process I kept messing up more because... because..."

You were a stuttering mess; you weren't even sure why the hell you were telling all of this to him. It was pathetic and unprofessional. But it hardly mattered in an odd situation like this.

"You wanted to impress me?" he asked.

Everyone did; everyone wanted to look good in the eyes of the Hiromi Higuruma. You were no exception to that.

"Yes, sir..."

He takes a step back from his desk, sitting back down on his leather swivel chair. "Come over here," he says as his finger makes a come hither gesture.

You gulped down hard before going around his desk, standing right in front of him. Hiromi still had a bored expression plastered on his face. "On your knees."

Your eyes widened ever so slightly. There was no mistaking his words. He was actually asking you to—

"O-okay," you replied shakily. You dropped down to your knees, but before you could get any closer, he leaned down and grabbed you by the hair; your messy bun became messier. He only did so—not to hurt you—but to make you look at him and to make sure you'd hear him loud and clear.

"You really want to make it up to me?" he asked lowly and you nod.

His fingers slowly detangle from your locks as he leans back in his chair. "You know what to do then. I'm sure you've been waiting to do something like this."

You'd be a fucking liar if you said you haven't dreamt of doing something filthy like this with the hottest man in the office. It only made it better that you were actually doing it inside his office.

You crawled closer to him until your head was between his thighs. It thrilled you straight to your core. Your fingers lightly traced the seam of his trousers before pulling his zipper down. After undoing the button, you slowly tugged the pants and boxers that were in the way. Your mouth almost watered at the sight of his cock—though it was only half hard.

Seeing how it was now—it made you wet thinking about it at its biggest. It was overwhelming now it was actually in your hand. Warmth radiated from it as you brought your face closer.

"You look famished. Fantasized about this before haven't you?"

In response, you simply kissed his tip—earning a hiss from him. You spat on it, letting the glob of saliva trickle down his length before your hand spread it all over. In one go, you took as much as you could in your mouth.

His girth made your eyes water. He relaxed in his chair as if he found peace in your warm mouth, a soft groan slipping from his chapped lips. You made sure to go at an excruciatingly slow pace, not wanting to overwhelm yourself. This might just be your last chance to impress him; you weren't about to fuck it up.

"Guess there is something you can do properly hm?"

A familiar set of fingers tangle in your strands again, slowly guiding your head. "Sucking it so enthusiastically—maybe paralegal work isn't your calling."

All the dirty talk went straight to your sopping cunt, making you moan around his length. He hisses again, "Fuck... you're enjoying this way too much."

He pulls your head away from your cock, taking the time to admire the fucked out expression on your face. Saliva dribbled down your chin as your half-lidded eyes stared back at him.

"Don't wanna cum in your mouth. Stand up," he orders again.

He stands up along with you. Before you could even gain your footing, he had bent you over on his desk—knocking over the stuff that littered the surface.

A gasp escapes you as he roughly pushes your black pencil skirt, bunching it up at your waist. He marveled at your stocking-clad ass. A harsh slap surprised you.

"O-ouch..."

He leans against you, his chest pressing into your back. Hiromi's hand snaked to your front, lightly gripping your neck. You could feel his minty breath against your neck as his nose jabbed your cheek. "That's for the first fuck up."

Then, another slap. "That's for your fuck up now."

Another slap. "And that's just for my own pleasure."

He pulled away, the abrupt absence of his warmth making you feel restless. Your senses were flooded by a plethora of things that you didn't notice how he knelt down in front of your heat. Hiromi wasted no time and ripped the barrier that was your black stockings.

"Fucking slut. You should see how drenched you are right now."

He presses a kiss over your clothed cunt, his nose poking at your hole. You let out a breathless groan, finally nearing some much needed stimulation.

His finger hooks into the gusset before pulling it out of the way. He found it pitiful how you clenched over nothing. He'd give you something to clamp on soon anyway.

Hiromi dove right in, lapping at your folds. He took his sweet time, much like you did with him. His tongue teased the length of your slit first before thrusting it into your neglected hole.

A desperate moan echoed through his office as you squirmed. But Hiromi held you by your ass, making sure you would stay still for him. He went faster and faster, not allowing you to adjust. And in no time, he had you cumming on his tongue.

God, it was unfair that an attractive and talented man like him had to be good at sex too.

The last bit of strength that held you up had disappeared, leaving you slumped over his desk. He reached for his drawer, looking for a condom. As much as he wanted to fuck you raw—let you know reaaaal well the consequences of your actions—Hiromi was still a rational man.

He'd have his fun, safely.

Hiromi wasn't in much of a hurry as he idly rolled the rubber down his cock. Besides, time was probably going slower for you right now. Who would've thought just a little bit of pussy eating would get you undone so quickly?

Pathetic. But Hiromi secretly liked it.

He lazily rubbed himself as he lined his cock against your dripping entrance. There wasn't a chance of him going slow now. Hiromi plunged his entire length into your cunt. Your soft moans came out in unison as the lawyer threw his head back a bit.

It had been a while since he let off some steam... and maybe the first time he had a cute little paralegal bent over his desk.

"Finally got what you wanted? Tell me how much you wanted this."

"Wanted this so much," you blabbered. You could hear yourself and even you were surprised by how shameless you were. Hell, if dick as good as this was going in and out of you—maybe it's not that surprising that he could coax out even the most deprived thoughts in your head.

"Fucking slut. You wore this pretty skirt for me, didn't you?"

"Y-yes. I did."

"Fuck right you did," he says. Hiromi takes your arms and crosses them behind you, grabbing it so he can slam harder into you. His grip was bruising, but the pain was easily overlooked by how good he was making you feel down there.

"Maybe I should keep you on this case—not as paralegal, but as my stress reliever. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

His question was only meant by a strangled moan, but it sufficed. The way you eagerly took him in was more than enough to let him know. "Such a perfect slut," he whispered under his breath.

The relentless snap of his hips had you clenching down and he was definitely feeling it with the way he would suck in through his teeth. He knew you were close and so was he.

"Fuck," he drawled out. "Pussy so good... making me cum too quickly for my liking."

Hiromi let go of your arms, letting them fall to your sides. Instead, he grabbed on to your hips, pulling you into his. The lewd squelching sounds along with your moans were certainly heard from beyond his glass office.

"Sir... I'm so close... shit."

He took that as a sign to keep up his maddening pace. Your orgasm came crashing and white spots flooded your vision. If it weren't for him holding up your hips, you would've been completely slouched on the wooden desk.

"Fuck... take it all," he says before his thrust become sloppy. Eventually, he released into the rubber. Hiromi rode out the last few seconds of his climax before slipping out of you. As he took his hands off your flesh, his hand prints were left as a souvenir.

He took the rubber off his sensitive length, tying it up and chucking it into the trash bin. Hiromi sat back down, exhausted, while you were still bent over his desk. Perhaps it'll be a while before you'd gain your strength again.

Until then, he'll admire your pretty pink pussy.

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note 100% of my knowledge on law comes from Suits so don't come for me

[yasmindifference]

Cheer up prompt #27

An anon and @this-was-a-terrible-idea also requested #27! A popular number apparently lol. I hope you all enjoy! ♡

"--and then Mr. Browsten said that with all the, um, the hullabaloo that it wasn't fair to make us take a test, so he cancelled it."

Tim pauses for breath and Mom hums an encouraging noise. When Dad makes that sound, it means he's not really listening, but he knows Mom's paying attention, even though she hasn't stopped curling her hair. From where he's lying on her bed, he can see her reflection in the vanity mirror, and she's frowning just like he knew she would.

Mom doesn't approve of canceling tests, which means she doesn't approve of Mr. Browsten, because he cancels them all the time.

(Mom says tests are important to know where improvement is necessary. Mr. Browsten doesn't seem to agree.)

"So we watched a documentary instead and it was pretty interesting, it was about puffer fish! Sarah asked what puffer fish have to do with grammar and Mr. Browsten said that learning is its own reward, but I think he just didn't have anything else ready so he took something from Ms. Cappola instead. She's the fifth grade science teacher and I heard her classes watch movies at least twice a week."

Mom tuts, which Tim was expecting, and sets down her curling iron.

"Ridiculous," she mutters. "I don't know why we're paying that school so much in tuition when they can't be bothered to teach you anything. It's a miracle you ever learned to read."

"It's because I'm smart," Tim informs her helpfully, and Mom smiles her special just-for-Tim smile.

"You are," she agrees. "And thank goodness for that. Now, would my smart boy do me a favor?"

Because Tim's smart, he already knows what she's going to ask. He rolls off the bed to his feet. "Curling iron?"

"Yes, please." Mom rolls her chair away from the vanity so he can crawl under it to unplug the curling iron. She plugged it in herself, but that was before she was all dressed up in her expensive dress. "Thank you, Timmy."

"You're welcome," he chirps, crawling back out.

Mom rolls back in front of the vanity, but Tim stays where he is, kneeling next to it so he can watch her put her makeup on. There are a lot of different bottles and brushes and powders involved, but Mom never hesitates. Tim doesn't know how she keeps it all straight.

He likes watching Mom get ready to go out. Sometimes--like tonight--she lets him pick out the jewelry she's gonna wear, and then she chooses her dress and hair and makeup all based on what he picked. Even when the colors don't match, it all fits together like a puzzle...a puzzle she pieces together in seconds after Tim's impulsive choice.

It's really cool.

Tonight, Tim picked pretty, dangly earrings with some kind of red stone (ruby, Mom said when he asked), so Mom picked a black dress. She said it would make the earrings pop, which he didn't get until he saw her wearing it.

Now, he watches her choose lipstick as red as the earrings and asks, "Does the lipstick make the earrings pop, too?"

Mom finishes smoothing it on before she smiles at him. "You tell me."

Tim studies her. The lipstick matches the earrings, but it doesn't draw attention to them the way the plain dress does. He already watched her do her eye stuff, and her eyes look bigger somehow, but they're not colorful like they were when they all went to the opera last week.

"No," he decides. "You went new...neutral?" He waits for her slight nod of confirmation, then continues, encouraged, "You went neutral with your eye stuff and red with your lipstick to make your lips pop."

"Very good," Mom says, smiling. She cups his cheek briefly before turning back to the vanity. "Clever boy."

Tim beams and watches in fascinated silence as she uses some kind of powder. Even though he's staring right at her, he can't tell what the powder actually does. All he knows is that when she's done, her face looks...different. Still pretty, but kinda sharper somehow.

Makeup is like magic, he decides. No matter how many times he watches her get ready, he can never figure it out.

"Can I try?" he asks impulsively.

"Try what?" Mom asks, a little distracted. The cap on one of her bottles is stuck and she's struggling to open it.

"Your makeup!" Tim takes the bottle from her and opens it by using the hem of his shirt to grip it better. Mom can't do that, her dress is all shiny and slippery. "You look pretty, I wanna try."

Mom pauses and then smiles.

"I don't have long before I have to leave," she warns him, "but I don't see why not. Do you want to pick out some lipstick?"

Tim absolutely does. He levers to his feet as, across the room, Dad finally stirs. He's been reading some stuff his assistant from Drake Industries brought by earlier, ignoring them both, but now he says, "Janet" in a weird tone.

"Jack?" Mom asks, even as she directs Tim's attention to the little circles on the bottom of her lipstick tubes that show what color they are. She has a lot of options.

"Janie, really," Dad says. He sounds unhappy, and Tim looks up from comparing two different shades of pink to find him frowning. "You can't mean to let our son--"

He stops mid-sentence and Tim bites back a wince. Dad's in trouble; Tim hasn't seen that look on Mom's face since he told her about his last nanny giving him whiskey to help him sleep when he woke up from bad dreams.

"My son," Mom says very deliberately, "is welcome to express himself however he likes."

Is trying makeup expressing himself? Tim just wants to see if it makes him as pretty as it does Mom.

Either way, that's not a good tone. Tim looks down and concentrates really hard on picking out a lipstick.

"Janet," Dad tries again, weakly. He obviously knows he's in Big Trouble, but for some reason he hasn't apologized yet. Tim tries to psychically tell him to cut his losses and back down, but his telepathy apparently still hasn't kicked in, because Dad says, "It's just that--"

"Do you know what you want to try, sweetheart?" Mom asks, completely ignoring Dad.

Tim looks between his parents, decides to let Dad dig his own grave, and hands Mom the red he settled on.

(If it's the red that most closely resembles the red in Robin's uniform...well, it's not like Mom has any way of knowing that.)

"Excellent choice!" Mom says. She stands up from the vanity and pats her chair. "Take a seat."

Tim does, excited. He's not usually allowed to sit at Mom's vanity.

Lipstick, he learns quickly, feels really weird. He has to sit super still while Mom puts it on him, and it makes his lips feel weirdly heavy, like there's something on them.

Which there is, actually, so...he doesn't know what he was expecting.

Mom hands him a tissue so he can "blot" his lips, just like he's seen her do a million times, and then steps aside so he can see his reflection in the mirror.

"Whoa," Tim says, leaning closer. He makes a few faces, pushing his lips together and out, transfixed by how bright and noticeable they are. It doesn't make him pretty like Mom, but he likes how it looks anyway. "Cool."

Behind him, Dad throws up his hands and leaves the room. He's angry, Tim can tell, but Mom is smiling down at him, so Tim's not worried.

"Do you want to pick eyeshadow next?" she asks.

"Yes, please!"

Prompt #27 was experimentation! Well selected! ♡♡

[haikyu-mp4]

January

word count; 953 – f!reader

Bokuto Kotaro learned his lesson last semester; he could not leave studying until the last minute. Thus, he begrudgingly put on an extra layer of clothes and walked through the snow to the library. He took a seat by a table in the back after smiling at the woman who occupied the other end. Outside the window, snow was falling slowly, and Bokuto wished he had enjoyed it more on his walk there before shaking his head and opening his books. Then he picked up a pen, which is where the struggles started rolling in. He could never figure out how to learn, which is why he ended up writing out words he didn't understand with no purpose for hours (minutes) on end.

You quickly had to look up again at the man who joined you at the table, and not just because of his handsome face. He was making a lot of noises and pressed his pencil down so hard that the paper moved and rattled along with the table. How were you supposed to focus like this? It wasn't long until you picked up your books and stood from your seat.

Bokuto looked up with an apologetic expression on his face, thinking you wanted to leave, but it quickly turned to surprise when you sat down across from him instead. "Hey, I'm y/n." His body got stuck in a seemingly shaken state. You looked at him expectantly until you decided to keep talking and picked up his notebook. "Wow, I don't know what any of this means." A chuckle left your mouth, and he finally gathered his thoughts.

"Me neither. I'm Bokuto." You happily shook hands and kept talking for the rest of the hour. An hour might have been a bit too long for a study break, but it was only January after all. "-I also like drawing, but there won't be any time for that this semester if I can't figure out how to learn stuff and actually remember it later."

"Why don't you draw it, then? Two birds, one stone," you said, pitch going up in the excitement of helping your new friend. "I draw all my notes. Writing is so boring and does nothing for me." Bokuto looked at your notes when you showed him the pages covered in different drawings and colours. He couldn't help but think that even though he couldn't tell what you studied, he kind of understood what the page tried to teach him. Are you some sort of guardian angel?

"That's brilliant."

You and Bokuto met at the library a few more times, and you watched him become more confident with his studying. You peeked at the pages sometimes, and he even inspired you with his little arrows and other additions to help remember. One day when you sat across from each other, you noticed that his hair kept falling in his eyes. He hadn’t had the time to gel it, nor cut it lately, and it had grown quite fast. Rummaging through your bag, you found a small scrunchie and placed it on the table between you. "Here, take this." He looked up wide-eyed, glancing at it and then back to you before shaking his head.

"Thanks, but I don't think so. I'll look stupid," he whispered while leaning slightly over the table.

You shrugged your shoulders and went back to your notes. "Suit yourself." After a couple of minutes passed, you saw a hand reach out and grab the scrunchie. Amused eyes stayed on him with a fond smile as Bokuto gathered some hair on top of his head and secured it with your hair tie. Because the sun had gone down outside, Bokuto could turn to the window and easily see his reflection, a burst of childish laughter bubbling in his throat at the sight of his hair. You could only watch him from your side of the table, shaking your head and sighing affectionately.

"I don't think I can read another word," Bokuto admitted hours later and closed his book. "I've had enough for today." You chuckled and nodded in agreement. You both began packing up your stuff, standing up to get the last books into your bags. When that was successful, you looked at each other and frowned. Bokuto seemed frozen with a blank expression.

"Bokuto? You okay there, bud?"

"Huh? Yes." He still looked like he was thinking about something, contemplating. Instead of keeping you waiting anymore, he just asked. "Want to hang out sometime?"

You smiled at him, taken off guard but happy he asked. "Sure, what do you want to do?" Bokuto had not thought about that part. What do you ask a woman to do? What's normal? He said "Hang out", where do men and women just hang out? His mind quickly tried to figure out an answer, and the first thing that came to mind was-

"Maybe a morning run? Would be nice to have some company." He grinned at you, satisfied that he didn't say anything too weird. You squinted at him, confused about the unexpected suggestion. I'm not exactly a runner.

"That sounds fun. When?"

"7 a.m.? I have a class at 10." You pushed away any negative thoughts when he smiled so innocently.

“That works. Meet you outside the main entrance at 7 a.m. tomorrow,” you repeated to check that you had all the facts, also realising how early 7 a.m. was for running.

"Cool." Bokuto bounced on the balls of his feet, looking like he was re-energised by the agreed hang-out. "See you, y/n!" He quickly turned around and walked out of the library, roses on his cheeks before he even got outside.

The Schoolyear Series ║ masterlist