#was going to draw the halo and uh. may or may not have just Forgotten LMAO

[ididntmean2hauntyou]

@gracebeth3604 / @gracebethartacc 's soul design is really swag and my friend has said 'there needs to be more soul art'. so i come with the goods!

part of my 'erin draws your hms designs', this was a fun one (even if the rendering took forever, whic honestly? thats just a normal erin art moment).

we love rendering

[disapoitment]

Am I about to overanalyse another throwaway gag? Absolutely! This time it's from the classic season one episode, Napoleon Brainaparte.

So, towards the very end of this episode, our poor, beloved mice are about to meet their tragic end. They're threateningly informed that an afterlife awaits them, and as they cower in what they believe to be their final moments, the viewers are given a glimpse into their heads...specifically, what they each imagine heaven to be like. This scene surprised me on my first watch, because it was pretty unexpected. And surprisingly...sweet?

Let's start off with Brain's idea of heaven, which is shown first.

Right off the bat we have him surrounded by a chorus of Pinky angels. This is one of the rebuttals I have for people who doubt Brain cares about Pinky...I mean, if I didn't like someone, I definitely wouldn't include them in my idealised afterlife, nevermind multiple versions of them!

Uh, I digress. The thing I actually want to draw attention to here is the fact that Brain actively desires Pinky in his life (or, afterlife, in this case) and can't imagine existing, in any form, without him. We've seen it time and time again, from the episode "Snowball" to that one story from the comics, but this is one of the earliest, most apparent instances of it in the show. This scene alone proves to the audience that Brain isn't using Pinky to reach his goals, but genuinely sees him as a friend and a companion. And maybe there's an unhealthy splash of codependancy in there.

To take this a step further, an afterlife is commonly portrayed as a sort of perfect world; a place of eternal happiness, even. It's safe to assume from this daydream that Brain subconsciously associates Pinky with the same joy and contentment associated with heaven. We can even interpret this scene as Brain viewing Pinky as an angel, which is not only heart-wrenchingly sweet, but makes a fair bit of sense, all things considered.

After all, though Brain himself tends to shy away from explicit displays of emotions and empathy, he's been established to admire these traits in others. In "TV or not TV", he claims to find Princess Diana (who was well-known for her activism) attractive, and he repeatedly praises Pinky's kind nature throughout the series, even when it directly interferes with a plan. He even sabotages his own plots when Pinky objects for moral reasons, eg "Inherit The Wheeze", and then there's the iconic instance of him DESTROYING his own machinery after tearing up over Pinky's Christmas letter. I believe this is why Pinky is an angel in Brain's eyes: he's compassionate, he's pure-hearted, and he's innocent. Well, innocent in the sense of intention, at least. Pinky represents all the things Brain is too afraid to be himself, lest morality get in the way of his goals.

On top of that, Pinky always stays by Brain's side. He's the only person/mouse who has never left him, hurt him, or betrayed him. It's natural that someone so lonely, cynical and self-loathing as Brain would view his polar opposite as a literal angel...or, even more impactfully, a full chorus of them. Of course Brain's idealised heaven has himself as an angel too, but I'd say that's either his ego coming into play (he's both self-hating and conceited) or just to serve as a visual signifier that he's...um, dead. The flock of Pinky angels is what I'm focusing on here, because the sheer amount of them in comparison to Brain highlights them in this miniature megalomaniac's reverie. And also because it's more interesting to take the analysis in this direction! ♡

Honestly, there's not quite as much I can say about this segment of the scene. Brain is on a throne, so presumably he's imagining himself ruling...heaven? Good for you, Brain!

It's very in-character for Brain to put himself as the centrepiece of his ideal afterlife, and as much as I love this little guy, the angel imagery is obviously ironic. Whether intentional or not, this can be connected to his egotism, as well as his belief that everything he does, no matter how severe or morally corrupt, can be justified by the end goal of ruling Earth and making it a better place. I don't believe that Brain genuinely sees himself as an angel when it comes to his purity, but rather that he thinks all his sins can be forgiven if/when he becomes the "benevolent dictator" (his words, not mine) of the planet...or maybe that's just what he tells himself to be able to sleep at night.

He looks noticeably very content and calm as an angel. I would go off on a tangent about how this is a version of Brain who is finally freed from the burden of his never-ending cycle of failure, and that this suggests that he needs to break out of his world domination obsession to ever be truly happy, but...I'll spare you.

Oh, Pinky. Poor, poor Pinky. He's so selfless that it stings :(

It says a painful amount that in his idea of heaven...he's not even in it. I don't think he hates himself, yet he's so good-natured that he ends up neglecting his own desires for the sake of others. In this scene, he has literally forgotten to include himself in his own idealised world. I hate to say this, but this could be a result of his codependent relationship with Brain. He's so focused on Brain's happiness and goals that his life almost revolves around him at this point, and as I mentioned before, they fall apart without eachother. Pinky pours his heart and soul into helping Brain, partly because he genuinely believes Brain will make the world a better place, and partly because he'd do almost anything for Brain's sake. His love for Brain is so strong that he's the focus of Pinky's own paradise.

What I find significant is Brain taking the role of every single angel in the fantasy. He's portrayed as a sweet and wholesome creature wearing a cute smile, a stark contrast to reality. Even just him being an angel in the first place implies that this is how Pinky sees him. A big part of the latter's motivation to help Brain take over the world, though scarcely mentioned in the show itself, is so it can become a happier, nicer place for everyone. As a determined optimist, Pinky shares the desire to improve the Earth, and so views Brain as a sort of hero, someone surely worthy of a halo and wings.

His view of Brain as a good person can be explained further when we consider that he doesn't mind being bopped (and in some interpretations, downright enjoys it), can shrug off any verbal abuse, and clings onto any snippets of warmth he receives from Brain. The things others would raise their eyebrows at are things Pinky ignores or adores. I think it's safe to say that, overall, Pinky is the type to focus on his friend's positive traits and simply ignore most of the negatives, as seen in "Pinky's Plan" when he gives an extremely sugarcoated description of Brain to the world leaders. Because of all this, in Pinky's mind, Brain truly is an angel. It's bittersweet, really.

And here we have it again. Brain on the throne, ruling. This is all Pinky truly wants—for his friend to be happy, fulfilled and at peace, making whatever world he may rule a better place. There's not an awful lot more to say now, since this is just a repeat of the scene from Brain's fantasy, but I think that's the most heartwarming part. These two mice are working towards the exact same goal, and yet their reasons for doing so are quite different: Brain to rule the world, Pinky to make his friend smile. It's almost poetic in its simplistic beauty. The voice actors said it best when they described the show as a "desperate love story", and the little scenes like this only prove that to me.

Welp, that's all I have to say for now! I haven't reached this hard since I tried to get to the chromatica oreos on the top shelf in Tesco. But this was fun, anyway! Thank you ever so much for reading :'D Your patience must be incredible! 💕

[oatsn-honey]

breathe, and all will be well . . .

ao3

masterlist

summary: He was off today, Kageyama realized. His steps were too slow, too shaky. When he moved for a spike, it wasn't with his typical grace and enthusiasm.He didn't discover why until Hinata was collapsed on the floor, choking on his own breaths and face pale as a sheet. Or: Hinata hasn’t been eating enough and is overexerting his body.

notes:  guess who's back back, back again tac's back with more rlly gay kagehina content pls enjoy! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

“One more!” Hinata bellowed, his arms swinging behind him as he prepared to jump, muscles flexing and firing. For a moment, amidst the cacophony of shouts, pants, and squeaking shoes, there was silence, and he was soaring -- looking down at the other side of the court and flashing upwards past the net. His eyes locked onto an empty sliver of polished floor, disregarding the blockers in all of their entirety. His palm connected with the ball -- flesh on leather -- and it’s slam against the wood resounded through the gym.

“Nice kill, Hinata!” He heard Tanaka from behind, the second-year approaching to sling his arm around the middle blocker’s small frame. Releasing a shaky breath, Hinata’s caramel eyes slid over to Kageyama -- the setter nodded in approval. They were perfectly in-sync.

Not for long, though, Hinata quickly realized. His steps were off-- too sluggish, too clumsy. As he urged his body onward, his chest heaving and jaw aching (why, he wasn’t sure), it felt far too cumbersome, like a dead weight he had been burdened with. His knees trembled as he jogged up to the net -- Kageyama glanced at him, panic flashing in those star-flecked eyes. He was several tempos slow.

Hinata swallowed, steeling his nerves. His body too, it seemed, as each joint stiffened in protest to his movement. Regardless, he flung his arms, and clenched his eyes, shut, and launched upward, pain and fatigue coursing down his legs.

Midair, his head not peaking above the net, the ball crashed to his left. His landing unsteady, narrowly avoiding a close-and-personal encounter with the floor, Hinata straightened (or so he thought, but perhaps he was still hunched over). A chorus of “don’t mind!” rang in his ears, but he could only stand and blink, staring at the forgotten ball.

“Hinata?” A strong hand clasped his shoulder, and he was spun around to meet the concerned face of their team captain. Daichi came closer, eyebrows drawing closer together, “Are you alright?” His doting was normally reassuring and heartwarming, but Hinata only wished the third-year would forget about him like that ball, that missed spike, and move on.

He cleared his throat, testing the choppy waters, “Uh, yeah! All good!” It was a lie told straight through his teeth, but he’d rather lie 100 times than be sent off the court simply because he felt ‘out-of-it’.

That choice, however, would soon come to bite him. He spent the entirety of the scrimmage lugging himself around, each step a tremendous effort to keep from collapsing. Nishinoya received Asahi’s monster serve, and it sailed towards Kageyama, his hands open and ready. God, he was going to have to spike again -- even if it went to Tanaka, he still needed to act as a decoy.

With a laborious inhale, he trudged forward -- or, he thought he did. Move! He screeched at his body, but it wouldn’t work. He couldn’t get it -- his body-- he wasn’t working. Oh god, oh god. The ball was about to hit Kageyama’s palms. The other boy flashed him a panicked look, and Hinata clamped his teeth hard on his lip to keep from crying out in desperation.

He tried to will his legs forward, but they shuffled a mere inch. Move, move, move! His vision -- his vision, oh lord, it was going, his vision was going. Black teased at the edges, and his breaths were small puffs, shuddering and frightened. His lungs, they were empty, he couldn’t get any air-- he was suffocating, oh god, he couldn’t breathe. His chest spasmed as he choked out, “K-Kage-ya-”

As the setter surged towards him, fear riddling his face, the team closed in from all sides, pressing on him-- pressing, get away. His limbs were numb; he couldn’t even twitch his fingers, but his chest was rising and falling so fast -- why couldn’t he get any air into his lungs? He couldn’t breathe! Why wasn’t his body listening? Just work!

An arm hooked around his back, but his vision, the black seeping into everything, was too blurry -- I can’t see, where am I, oh god, I can’t breathe, I can’t move -- to make out their face. “Hinata?!” The voice, frantic and too loud but too muddled all at the same time, pried at his mind. His head felt like it was about to split open, only for his heart to burst out at the same time, revealing his malfunctioning lungs -- why weren’t they working?

“Hinata, breathe.” A soothing voice, calm and smooth, cut into both the chaos and static of Hinata’s mind. A hand landed on his chest, and he couldn’t help but listen to the voice, carrying with it a godsent breath of fresh air and all of the fathomable kindness in the world. “That’s it, breathe with me.”

Slowly, the black spots faded, leaving behind a pounding headache and swimming vision -- maybe that was the tears though. He blinked them away as the sights beheld to him became clearer. His chest ached as he inhaled; each huff unsteady, but gloriously there.

“Hey.” It was Sugawara hovering above him, a comforting smile lifting his angelic face -- he almost looked like an angel, his head blocking the light above them, the rays splaying out and creating a halo. Not to mention that he had delivered that divine sanctuary of being able to breathe.

Hands grasped for him, and he cried out, that pressure in his chest returning with alarming speed, but Suga fended them off with a bark of, “Don’t overwhelm him!” His eyes flitted back down to Hinata, a hint of worry lacing his expression, and he spoke carefully, “Be careful. Give him a moment.”

Thankful for his upperclassman, Hinata sighed in relief, slumping against the support against his back. The support shifted -- wait what? He was between a set of knees, clad in black pads, and supported by a strong chest. Two hands were placed at either side of his extended legs. He studied the hands, each scar crossing over the skin, the shape of the fingers -- Kageyama. One of the hands rose to pat the top of his head. He smiled, relaxing into the welcome embrace.

The team, now a safe distance away, watched curiously as the trio sat in silence. Hinata’s eyes were drifting closed, his limbs tingling as feeling returned. They still felt heavy, though, as Suga gently broached, “So, what happened?”

He could feel Kageyama’s chest beneath him hitch -- maybe it was nervousness? Or maybe he was laughing, thinking, “Wouldn’t we all like to know?” Sighing, Hinata rubbed at his temple with his buzzing fingers, the nerves igniting at the feeling. He settled further into Kageyama, into that familiar comfort, and an arm came to wrap around his stomach (he couldn’t bring himself to care about the unusual public display).

“I-I,” Hinata cleared his throat with a small cough, “I don’t know. I was fine earlier, but the more I played, the worse I felt. It’s like my body wasn’t listening!” His voice, which started out weak, grew louder, more alarmed, “I couldn’t breathe -- couldn’t get the air to my lungs! My legs weren’t listening, they wouldn’t move-! And my v-vision-!”

“Hey, now. Calm down, breathe,” Suga cooed, leaning forward to brush Hinata’s bangs from his sweaty forehead. “It’s alright, Hinata, you’re alright.” They took another moment, the team growing anxious at the peculiar patience and serenity of the third-year setter. “Hinata,” he began again, “This all sounds like the type of things that happen when you haven’t eaten enough -- when you’re burning more calories than what your body has.”

Hinata bristled at Suga’s following question, “Did you eat lunch?”

He wasn’t given a chance to respond before Kageyama quipped angrily, “This idiot only ate a bowl of rice! And he didn’t even finish it!”

“H-hey!” Hinata craned his neck to glare at Kageyama, who returned the gesture in full, before tacking on, “I ate, like, 5 carrots too!”

Before their frustration with each other could build (strangely, Kageyama’s arm was still protectively wrapped around Hinata’s body), Suga intervened, “Hinata, a bowl of rice and carrots, while better than nothing, still isn’t enough food.” The boy pouted in response, body slacking in shame of being told he’d messed up -- even if it wasn’t inherently anything to feel guilty for. “With all of this extra training we’re doing in preparation for the tournament, we’re burning extra calories -- but I can see how it may have slipped your mind.”

He rose to his feet, a little sway to his stance. Leaning forward, he patted both Hinata and Kageyama on their heads. “How are you feeling now, Hinata?” His hands now wrapped around his sides, placed firmly at his hips.

“Mm,” Hinata took stock of his body before carefully answering, “I’m-- I’m still shaky, I think.” He tilted his head back, the crown of it hitting against Kageyama’s chest, to look up at his setter. The taller teenager simply rolled his shoulders and bit at his lip.

“Well then,” Suga extended a hand, and Hinata accepted it gratefully, unsteadily rising to his feet. He stumbled momentarily, jarred by the weight of his body (and the loss of Kageyama’s reassuring warmth), but was saved by Suga’s stable hands. With gentleness that left a river of light in its wake, the setter parted the crowd of teammates and guided Hinata to the bench.

Gracelessly, Hinata plopped next to Yachi, who appeared increasingly alarmed and distressed by the situation -- even more so with his close presence. He thought about scooting away, but doubted the abilities of his wavering balance. Anxiously, his chest aching once again, Hinata flexed his fingers and toes.

“Anyone have some extra food?” Daichi’s booming voice sounded through the gym.

“Oo! I got some for you, Shouyou!” Nishinoya squealed excitedly, leaping into the air and lunging for his bag, hurridley digging into the discord for this so-called food. As the seconds ticked by, the team standing helplessly, Nishinoya grew further agitated as he continued his futile search, grunting in frustration. Eventually, Asahi had to tell the libero that it was alright if he didn’t have any food.

As Hinata watched the scene unfold, his stomach tying in nervous knots that made him grow sick at the thought of eating, something was thrust into his face. Lingering before him was Tsukkishima, face as impassive as ever, a graciously offered granola bar clasped in his outstretched hand. “Take it,” he growled, pushing his glasses up with a snarl.

Despite his coldness, something the team had long since grown accustomed to, Hinata’s face softened and he accepted the gift. “Thank you!” He tore into the package despite the protest of his stomach, knowing that eating it would mean returning to the court sooner.

“No problem,” The middle blocker sauntered off, casually waving his hand, to join the others. Hinata’s lips curled into a small smile as he took that first bite.

Practice resumed, eventually building speed as everyone recovered from the shock of the situation. Hinata watched longingly, an electric enthusiasm in his eyes. And even with the harsh lecture from Ukai and the less-harsh talk from Takeda, Hinata could only think one thing: I’ll be okay.

so this is actually based on an experience of mine at swim practice it was quite difficult to translate smth like this (not eating enough and thus having ur brain fail to tell ur body to move, like kick and take in oxygen while uNDERWATER) from swimming world to volleyball world i hope i did it okay! i also hope y'all could understand the emotional jumble of the actual anxiety attack itself ahgsdfasfd (๑ ˊ͈ ᐞ ˋ͈ )ƅ̋