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kaiowut99 · 1 year

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GX Finalized-Subs!103 (Error Fix WIP): An Ace in the Cup

Settling in from my recent move and stuff, I've gotten to take care of the little animation consistency/card errors I thought I'd take a crack at fixing as I work to finalize my subs for episodes 102-104, the translations for which I'll be starting to look at this week (woot); as part of these touch-ups, we've got the two back-to-back shots here a bit after the eyecatch in 103, which I wanted to cover and break down here (to save space in my eventual release post, lol).

(tl;dr, Saiou no longer draws the card he then activates from his hand with Cup of Ace, and correctly adds the two cards he draws from it into his one-card hand, gifs below the cut show them in action)

So, Light Saiou activates Cup of Ace, predictably landing right-side-up and letting him draw two cards--which are then seen here in the first two screenshots (which I'll come back to later). Then, adding his drawn cards to his hand, he activates the Arcanatic Deathscythe (Doomscythe) he had in his hand (both actions shown in the last two screenshots)--which is already a consistency error: we just saw him draw Arcanatic Deathscythe, right? But the other error there is that the two cards he drew with his right hand and the one card he'd had initially in his left hand suddenly switched places.

I figured conceptually, the best way to fix this would be to use Photoshop to draw the second drawn card on top of the one in his right hand (as positioned in the shot as he draws them), removing the card by the tips of his left hand so that, over the course of the four movement frames it takes for him to add the cards to his left hand, he slides the top card out of his fingers and slips it into the middle while the card originally in his right hand fingers still ends up on the left as I pick up from the original footage once they're all in place. I started working on that Thursday and Friday nights, getting it all touched up and finished by Saturday night (maybe 12ish total hours), and first went about removing the leftmost card in his left hand by covering it up in each frame by drawing in more hair and his shoulder, which was easy enough.

For adding the second card to his right hand, I used a combination of splicing and resizing parts of the existing cards and touching up with re-coloring/re-shading/re-outlining to make things connect and blend better. Once I had the card made in the first frame, I copy/pasted it into the other three frames with appropriate tweaks to test out in the footage using Sony Vegas to see how smooth it'd look in the video, then I'd go back into Photoshop and tweak accordingly.

Overall, after some trial and error, I'm pretty pleased with how it came out! (Gif should load nicely)

Going back to the first shot of the two cards he drew: as mentioned, he already has Arcanatic Deathscythe in his hand, so it's a consistency error seeing it drawn alongside The Material Road and it should've been a different card. But what could it have been, and why did I go with Reversal of Fate? Well, taking 103 and 104 into consideration as the duel goes on, this was my thought process following the cards he plays:

At the start of this turn, he already has just Arcanatic Deathscythe in hand, with nothing face-down. *draws Cup of Ace and activates it, drawing Material Road (Lord) and ???* He now has three cards in hand. *activates Arcanatic Deathscythe* He now has two cards in hand (MR and ???). *Judai uses his turn to summon Sparkman and destroy The Emperor* He draws for his turn and has three cards in hand (MR, ???, and ??? 2), which he ends 103 with; 104 starts and he has the same three cards in hand. *draws and plays The Magician* He has the same three cards in hand. *sets MR and one of the ???s* He now has a ??? in hand. *Judai has his HERO Flash turn ending with Neos attacking him directly before the Light of Destruction rages* He draws and plays Magician's Scales. *uses Magician's Scales to add The Heaven's Road (Sky Lord) to his hand* He now has two cards in hand (a ??? and Heaven's Road). *plays Material, Spiritual, and Heaven's Roads to summon The Light Ruler* He now only has a ??? in hand. *uses Light Ruler's effect to add the Light Barrier in his Cemetery to his hand* He now has two cards in hand (a ??? and Light Barrier). *sets a card* He now only has Light Barrier in hand. *activates Reversal of Fate* He must have drawn Reversal of Fate from Cup of Ace.

Now, I think it could be equally likely that he drew Spiritual Road from Cup of Ace, but I think it was more fitting to have Reversal of Fate be the long-game plan, since Saiou activates it in response to Gran Neos's Nebulous Hole effect--which tries to remove The Light Ruler from play--so that he can negate it (fate and all). As bolded, Spiritual Road was also set face-down for activation after playing The Magician on his turn before Judai's HERO Flashing.

So, with that consideration, I made a proxy for Reversal of Fate that I then used AfterEffects to just slip into place in the footage, moving it along as the cards are moved into view in the shot; I originally planned to just mask in the original Material Road on top along with Saiou's thumb, but I kept getting some residue from Deathscythe's green color bleeding along its left border--instead, I also placed a Material Road proxy in its place, with Saiou's thumb only just masked on top. Started working on that Saturday night and finished it Sunday night, so both shots are looking pretty good!

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So, with all that said, as mentioned up top, I've gotten all of the fixes/touch-ups I'd picked out for 102-104 done--altogether 28, not counting two translation edits for Manjoume in 102, but including some fixes that were repeated due to the 103 and 104 recaps, and some that are quick little quality-of-watching touchups like with split-screens--so I'll be getting started on finalizing their scripts this week. Edits like these are fun to work on, picking up more Photoshopping/Vegas/AE know-how in the process, though it's always a shame that consistency things like these (or Ryou's Duel Disk thing in episode 8) didn't get corrected by the animators for GX's DVD releases (outside of stat/LP-counter errors, I don't think they would be until 5D's). Looking over my translations might not take too long as I think I was more or less a fan of my last pass-through with these, but we'll see; stay tuned!

#my love for this show is like an Ojama #GX #yugioh #yugioh gx #ygo #ygo gx #yu-gi-oh gx #Takuma Saiou #yu-gi-oh! gx #subbing rambling #102-104 have a special place in my heart as the first episodes i fansubbed back in Windows Movie Maker circa 2007 #so i've been itching to give 'em a good finalizing haha #one finalized season 2 coming soon

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modern-inheritance · 8 months

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Modern Inheritance Picrews (pt. 1): OG Elf Squad

I was recently tagged on my main blog to make OCs with this picrew and ended up making a few of the MIC versions of Inheritance characters, or at least as close as I can get. I enjoyed the process, and since I can't really draw all that well I thought I'd make more and post them here with some short descriptions of the character appearances as they are in MIC. I used Photoshop and Illustrator to make some edits (Glen's being the roughest) to try and get closer to what I had in mind.

Up first! The OG elf squad!

Fäolin

A handful of years older than Arya at the time of his death, Fäolin was quite young by elf standards, and somehow managed to look both the most human and the most alien of his companions. His eyes, frequently altered to even further increase his darkvision and distance vision for sniping, were always somewhat oblong at the pupils and were a striking green-and-gold hazel. Unlike other elves, Fäolin chose to attempt growing some facial hair through magic, and altered his hair color from the typical black seen in many elves to a rich chestnut worn short at the sides with a tufted ponytail. He was playful and lighthearted, always smiling slightly even during missions, and loved to gently tease his friends. A dark orange and yellow tattoo of a coiled Fanghur decorated his left shoulder, a symbolic gesture of solidarity with his mate, Arya, as well as a nod to the nickname of 'Wind Viper' that some of the Varden gave him after years of sniping high up above the battlefield with frightening accuracy, as though his targets were frozen in place as the Fanghur froze their prey with mental attacks.

Glenwing (Glen)

(I attempted to superimpose a rough aprox of his prosthetic over one of the hands but uh...it sure is an attempt.)

Glenwing, or Glen as most know him, is around 20 years Arya and Fäolin's senior. Born to a healer and a warrior in Ilirea before the Fall, he was old enough to have decent memories of the battles that took place and the effects it had on those around him. After the final battle saw his parents slain, the young elfling dedicated himself to learning healing arts of both body and mind while training to eventually fight back. With his father's bright silver hair tied back and his mother's deep golden eyes, Glen typically looks serene and thoughtful, each movement and word given the time it deserves. This not to say, however, that he is any less deadly than his companions, nor that he does not hold the peculiar wild, near feral energy that Arya so frequently displays. Glenwing knows every way to kill you, and could do so, unarmed and without magic, with incredible accuracy and efficiency. His training to heal gives him insight into biology of elves, dwarves and humans, to the point that he can identify weaknesses and target them on the fly during battle. This makes close quarters combat his forte, and he prefers crossing blades and bare handed fighting to long distance, which lead to the scar across his cheek during a battle with Forsworn-trained soldiers.

During the ambush that set the events of the main story in motion, Glenwing was catastrophically injured and lost his left arm just above the elbow. After months of rehabilitation and work with Rhunön he gained use of a prosthetic made of a combination of low quality brightsteel scrap, aramid weave, and spidersilk plate that moves with him as though it were his own flesh. It still requires constant maintenance and care, something Arya takes over when they return to the field together, and he has his own problems with phantom pain and the trauma associated with not only the loss but his near fifty years of constant war. Due to his time away from it all, though, and his own training in mental health counseling and psychology, Glen has a better grasp on managing his symptoms of PTSD than most. He still has weekly nightmares, often waking up feeling as though his body is on fire and his arm is being crushed, but he manages his sleep cycles and religiously practices the self care he needs to make his life easier and have the energy needed to help others consistently. Despite all the pain, though, Glen would be the first to say he would not trade it for the world. He is doing what he loves, making a difference in the fight, and doing it all next to one of his best friends.

Arya

The scruffiest and scrappiest elf currently walking the lands of Alagaësia, Arya's the young commander of her now only two person squad (including herself) of special forces commandos originally set to protect Eragon, Saphira and Brom. After seventy years of combat, war and politics, Arya's given up on adhering to elvish tradition of prim, proper and put-together in favor of living life in a warzone for the sake of Alagaësia's free peoples. Scars are earned and frequently left unhealed unless life threatening, dirt is considered free camouflage, and having five minutes of calm to tame whatever's come loose from hairbands is a luxury. Brom has told her to invest in a headband, but she keeps losing them.

With Islanzadi's pitch black hair and Evandar's emerald eyes, Arya is fairly striking when you can get her to stay still long enough. A wild, near feral energy roils under her skin and shows itself with bared tooth smiles full of mischief, and full of the naturally sharp teeth most elves sang away in their early years. The scar through her eyebrow is a reminder of a fight long since passed, but the fresh nick on her jaw, scar matted wrists and back, are all badges of pride for what she endured in Gil'ead. There are plenty other scars, but most are concealed by the elf's ever present combat jacket.

PTSD is something the entire squad dealt with before the ambush, but after Gil'ead Arya has taken a particularly hard hit to her mental health. Sleep can come, but it doesn't stay easy, and Arya typically goes two or three nights without more than a handful of hours of sleep. Elves can easily survive on four hours a night, and while six hours every three days can be livable, sleep debt builds up over time. She staves it off through meditation, but Glenwing has been pushing her to reestablish a proper cycle as they both know putting off sleep just intensifies the nightmares and Recall that frequently wake her up. It's a difficult pattern to establish, though, and every other month typically sees Arya with dark rings around her eyes until she relents to Glenwing and sleeps a solid night through with the aid of magic and a hell of a lot of talk therapy afterwards.

Arya's behavior and appearance, though in some ways distinctly elven, falls in the middle of human and elf. Called a mongrel by some of the more...brash...elven youth, Arya honestly couldn't care less, though she draws the line at disrespect towards her comrades and fallen brothers and sisters in arms, no matter their race. Even though her actions no longer serve just the elves, Arya's proud of her service. She's proud to stand beside Glen again and properly take on the role of Eragon and Saphira's bodyguard, even if they sometimes don't quite need it.

#eragon #inheritance cycle #the cyclists #the inheritance cycle #Ket's Modern Inheritance Cycle #Arya #arya drottningu #glenwing #glen (inheritance)#Faolin #og elf squad #picrew #I have more for these guys coming up both pre and post ambush #im fixated on scars right now no idea why #picrew modern inheritance #mi art #mic art #I completely lost the plot with Arya's sorry #brain not talking good right now

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finelinevogue · 3 years

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What if a security guard wouldn’t let you back in the arena if you went out to get something. And they didn’t believe that you were harrys gf and just thought you were a crazy fan

oooh it’s been done before but here’s my version!! ;

You were running late.

It was already 7pm and you were only getting out of your car in the car park. Harry was due to be on stage in an hour and you hadn’t even seen him yet. The traffic around Dallas today has been awful. Chocker block. You’d been with Harry all day, up until 3 hours ago when he had to leave the hotel to come to the stadium for rehearsals. Normally you’d go with him, but you were so tired that you wanted a little nap before coming. The problem here was you overslept.

There were no Ubers available and a taxi would be far too expensive at this time, so you drive in Harrys car instead. You’d been following Harry on tour in his car, so when you get to different destinations you can go out on ball day trips if you want to without the obscenity of a huge tour bus or paying for Ubers everywhere. It was the main reason you were so tired though, travelling across country and into different time zones. It would be so much easier if this was the UK.

You grabbed your purse and your jacket, locking the car as you got out and started running for the backstage entrance. It was easy to make it there and you noticed security guards already standing there.

“Hi!” You smiled, slightly short of breathe. You were about to move past them when one of them shoved your shoulder back, making you stumble back unbalanced. “Wha—”

“ID and backstage pass to get through here.” One of them said, looking you up and down as if you were nothing.

If anything, you were quite shocked on how they just treated and continued to treat you. Normally, Harry would show a picture of you to these backstage security guards to make sure you’d be able to get in no problem, but it seemed like today Harry might’ve forgotten to show that photo. This was going to be a problem for you, because you’d forgotten to bring your backstage pass.

“I normally just go through? I’m Harry’s girlfriend.” You tried talking your way around the situation, not appreciating behind held up so close to show-time.

“Oh you’re Harry’s girlfriend? You must be the 7th one we’ve met tonight.” The security guy laughed and so did his friend, making your blood boil with how annoying they were being. Harry would be so pissed if he heard the way they were treating you.

“No but I actually am.”

“Then, ID and backstage passes.” One of then held out his hand whilst the other crossed his arms over his chest to make him look intimidating. Dickheads.

“I have ID just not the backstage passes.” You answered honestly, holding out your ID for them to check. They collected it and asked you questions on it, you answering them all perfectly.

“Well you definitely know you, but you have no proof you’re supposed to be where you claim to be.” They handed you back your ID and you huffed in stress.

“Well what can I show you? Photos of me and Harry together? Text messages?” You waved your arms around, getting really pissed off that this was actually happening. You’d probably miss Jenny’s whole set because of this and then 15 minutes before show-time Harry gets transported under the stage. So you only really would have half and hour with him, and that’s just not enough time. You wanted a safe and warm hug off him. You wanted a kiss. You just wanted him.

“Everyone knows they can be photoshopped.” One of the guys scoffs at your notion.

“Listen. You either show us your backstage pass or we’ll escort you off site.” The other one says a lot more firmer this time. It made you quite anxious for what you’d do if they did that - or maybe when they did that.

“Well I don’t have the backstage passes.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at the way this was going to end.

“Then let’s go.” One of them pointed to where you came from and to the car park, stepping forwards as he did so.

“I’m not leaving until you let me through those doors. My boyfriend is waiting for me.” You answered, taking a step back in stress of what they might do.

“Harry ain’t your boyfriend. Now let’s go!” They stepped forwards again and reached for you.

You swung your bag at one of them, hitting him in his side and he grunted because of the impact of your water bottle with his chest. The other one grabbed your arm and you couldn’t shake him, since you were not trained in any way for situations like this at all. His fingers dig into your skin and it made you scream out a cry, trying to kick him in any way to escape. The other one recovered ever ordered the guy holding you to escort you away whilst he stayed and guarded the door. The one holding you tugged your arms behind your body and held them tight there, it really fucking hurting. He didn’t care though and continued to walk you, asking you where your car was so he could get you out of here.

Once you reached your car he let you go and you wrapped your arms around you as he walked away again, not verbally saying anything but his eyes saying enough. Stay away. You shakily got your keys out of your bags and unlocked your door, climbing in and just sitting there. You could feel your hands really shaky and achy. Looking down with tear clouded eyes, you saw the red marks over your arms and slight bruising already. Your arms and shoulders hurt from being bent in an uncomfortable position.

You cared less about the pain though and how much of a disappointment of a girlfriend you were going to be to Harry. He was going to think either the worst for you or the worst of you. You reached in your bag on your lap for your phone, throwing your bag on the seat next to you afterwards. You wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your t-shirt and unlocked your phone to text messages, sending Harry a quick text.

To Harry: Are you free to call? x

No response. You sat there for a few minutes in silence, still shook up and teary. That had been a really awful situation to be in and you hated that you were nowhere near Harry to fix it. Your phone vibrated 3 minutes later, finding a text message from Harry. You sighed and felt safe when you saw his icon light up your notifications, knowing he was in contact with you.

From Harry: Of course, you okay? xx

You didn’t open your phone because you didn’t know how to respond. How do you tell him you’re not okay, only 20 minutes before he’s meant to be ready to go on stage? You didn’t want to worry him, but you also didn’t want him thinking you were a terrible girlfriend either.

Another vibration.

From Harry: Lovie? xx

Your eyes watered at that simple word, meaning so much more to you than five letters. It made you feel so much comfort, you only wished you could get that hug and a kiss now.

Again.

From Harry: Love, you’re worrying me now.

From Harry: Let me face-time you, hang on.

His icon lit up the screen; Incoming…

You shakily accepted, wiping your eyes quickly before. When he answered you could tell he was still in his dressing room, sat on the sofa that you wish you were also sat on with him. He looked so beautiful. His hair was perfectly styled and he was wearing a pearl coloured silk shirt and you knew he was wearing white silk pants to co-ordinate. You thought he looked ethereal. A glowing beacon of hope and beauty.

He didn’t say anything to you at first and you nothing to him. He just looked at you and instantly knew something bad was up. He kept eye contact with you and it was as if he was having a telepathic conversation with you, understanding that you needed him and just him.

“Hey, Mitch man?” Harry asked, turning his head to somewhere else in the room. “Could y’just give me a minute. Please.”

“Sure, sure.” Mitch answered and all you could hear was the sound of shuffling and the door shut. As soon as he was gone you started crying all over again. You cupped your hand over your eyes and your body shook as you just cried. Harrys heart broke that you were alone and he couldn’t hug you close to his chest.

“Y/N, baby. Look at me.” He asked urgently and you just shook your head, embarrassed that this was happening to you. “You’ll be alright lovie, I promise. Just look at me, beautiful.” You moved your hand away from your face and wiped your eyes and nose to try and make you look slightly better - not that it helped. “There’s my pretty girl.”

You smiled. He smiled.

“I-i’m so-rry H.” You whispered, sniffling in between words because of how shaky you felt.

“Hey, no. None of that. It’ll be okay.” He reassured you, keeping eye contact with you to try and decipher what was wrong. “Where are you, lovie? You’re in the car, yeah?” Harry asked, recognising your surroundings but you could get anywhere. You could have been in an accident for all he knew, but he was remaining calm so he didn’t send you into a panic.

“Yeah. In the stadium car park.” You saw Harrys eyes momentarily light up at that, before he remembered that you weren’t okay.

“Okay. Tell me why you’re upset, love. Help me understand.” He sounded urgent, just wanting to know so he could help you out. He wanted you to be okay. He wanted you with him.

“The security guards wouldn’t let me in, backstage I mean. I didn’t have my backstage pass. But..” You choked on a sob and Harry told you to just breathe. You were okay. “One of them g-grabbed me and escorted m-me of sight.”

“Baby, are you hurt? Is that why you’re upset?” Harry asked, standing up now in panic. His face looked angry, but you could tell he was trying his best to be a comfort for you. “Y/N?”

“Y-yes. Yes Harry, yes.” You voice wobbled out and you let out an exasperated sob. “I’m s-sor—”

“No don’t you dare. Don’t apologise for this. Not ever. You understand me?” He made very clear he wasn’t messing around.

“Yes.” You nodded.

“Alright. Now, you gotta be strong for me okay?” He asked, before asking, still checking that you were okay. He knew you would be though, because you were his bravest girl ever - stronger than you knew.

“Okay.”

“You’re going to make your way back to the backstage entrance, alright? I am going to be there, before you get there. Those security guards won’t be there I promise. You’ll be okay. Can you do that for me?” He asked, moving around the room and then out of the door. He was walking down the corridors, ignoring the people shouting his name. He was only focused on you.

“Yes. Okay.” You nodded, wiping under your nose again.

“I love you.” He kissed the camera of his phone, looking like he was kissing you instead.

You returned the gesture, kissing him virtually back. “I love you.”

He told you that it’d be alright and then ended the call, explaining how you didn’t need to hear him get angry when he found these security guards. They would be fired even if they weren’t on his tour crew, he’d make sure of it. You made your way back to the backstage entrance again, slowing down before you rounded the corner. Taking a deep breathe you walked around and were met with exactly what Harry promised; him.

You smiled and broke out into a run to get to him, your bag weighing on your shoulder. Once you reached him your bag was thrown on the floor in front of him and you jumped into his arms. He lifted you up to sit you around his waist, keeping his arms tight around your waist and squeezing the biggest hug out of you. Your arms tightened around your boyfriends neck and you buried your face into his neck, and god he smelt like everything homely and sweet. He felt just like home.

“See, you’re alright now lovie.” He assured you, kissing your cheek that wasn’t quite buried into his neck.

“Th-ank you.” You muttered, kissing his neck in appreciation which made him hum in delight. He tasted so hot and lush. He was insatiable. You then felt him start kissing your arms, where the harsh red and purple marks were.

“Sorry y’had to go through this.” He kept kissing your arms, until you moved your head up and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“If I can’t say sorry, then neither can you.” You shook your head, kissing his nose softly. You watched his eyes flutter close and felt so special that only you could do that to him.

“You’re so amazing Y/N. Truly.”

“You’re pretty special too, my love.”

He didn’t need to hear anything else from you, those words were enough, so he pressed his lips to yours softly, filling you with the love you’d been waiting to feel all day. You smiled into the kiss and he just felt so amazing. He was so soft and gentle with you - as smooth as the silk that dressed his body. He was so pretty to watch melt away under your spell and delicious tasting. Strawberries, was that?

He was everywhere. He was everything. He always would be.

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adobe-outdesign · 2 years

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Since I'm here, could I know what you think about Froslass? Also, just wanted to say that if you have a negative opinion on her, please don't bash on her like you did with poor Gallade, as I'm here just to hear your thoughts, and I don't want to see you shit talk about my favorite Pokémon and detail why you hate them, thanks.

(I didn't bash Gallade, I just pointed out what elements of it I didn't care for. Apologies if it came across as overly negative--it was an earlier review so it might not be up to current standards--but it's pretty self-defeating if I just blindly praise every design instead of offering my honest opinions. And while I happen to like Froslass fine, you probably shouldn't ask for a review if negative opinions bother you so much.)

Froslass' has always been a really cool Pokemon, in my opinion. I mean, it's a hollow ice-type based off a Yuki-onna that freezes creatures to put them on display because it's possessed by a woman who died on a snowy mountain. How can you not like that?

Froslass was actually a late edition to the line, but I think it works a lot better than Gallade. First, Gallade felt like it was trying to cis-ify the Ralts line due to how Gardevoir has a dress, while Glalie is, like, an Orb. And secondly, Froslass' backstory justifies the gender ratio (compared to Gallade, which seems to be male-only solely for no reason other than the aforementioned cisness).

With that said, however, I do think that Froslass should've actually been its own Pokemon rather than a Snorunt evolution. Snorunt and Glalie are both shapes (a triangle and a circle respectively), while Froslass is, uh, kimono-shaped? The only things that tie it back to the rest of the line are the ice horns, which match Glalie's, and the dark indented areas on the face. And given that the backstory given doesn't make a whole lot of sense with it evolving from Snorunt (guess it could've just been the first Froslass that was possessed?), I really think it could've just been its own single-stage Pokemon.

Anyway, with all of that said, Froslass looks pretty decent from a visual standpoint. I love how the "arms" connect to the head instead of the shoulders, how they flare out to resemble kimono sleeves, and how the body is simple and tied together with a nice obi. It bears enough resemblance to a kimono that you know what you're looking at, but a much more unique body shape than the humanoid 'mons usually sport.

I only have two complaints with the design. First, those ice horns feel out of place. I get that they're trying to tie back to Glalie (and I've heard some say Yuki-onna have ice horns as well), but they're both three-dimensional and weirdly angular in an otherwise flat and smooth design. You definitely need something on the head or it would look too blank, but I can't help but feel like you could give it a fin to match the "bow" on the back or something.

And secondly, the colors are a bit of a mess. Red, blue and white are good, but then you have a reddish-orange obi out of nowhere when you already had the purple as the accent. Just make the obi purple! Also, it feels like the eye should be all yellow or the cornea should be white with a yellow iris in order to make it pop more. As is, it looks like it has jaundice a bit.

I popped it into Photoshop and took a quick stab at adjust the colors and trying out a different head decoration (original on right). I don't know if the head fin is quite the right solution to the horn issue or not, but this at least feels more unified and coherent to my eyes.

But as a whole, Froslass is a pretty awesome looking Pokemon with some great lore behind it. It's just a shame that it's forcibly tied into the Snorunt line, both visually and thematically, as it feels like that's the one thing holding it back (aside from the colors).

Also, as a final side note: Froslass really should've gotten a regional in Legends Arceus. It's Japanese-based because of the kimono and it's a yokai! Plus it should get something of its own, seeing as Glalie got a mega and it didn't.

#froslass #glalie #pokemon #pokemon reviews #outdesign attempts to edit

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yesitsmewhataboutit · 3 years

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Hi, I have a humble request for you spurred on my my mom watching america's next top model even though I told her I don't like it a tiny bit. Could I request a Shouto x reader who is insecure after seeing him in a photoshoot spread with some models? She has nothing to worry about, he loves her, but she can't help but feel gross looking at those beautiful models. (me projecting what?) Thank you.

Only For You

Todoroki x Reader

Masterlist

Back when you went to UA, you had a good amount of friends. You liked to be friends with people, but not everyone wanted to be friends with you. Most of the years in UA, your other classmates said you were ugly. Whether it was to your face or just how they acted or the things they said, but you knew what they thought. Eventually, you stopped trying. You stayed in your little group, not attempting anymore to be friends with people who obviously didn't like you. When you met Shoto, at first you only wanted to be friends with him, but it grew more, and you liked him.

You kept the feelings to yourself, not wanting to tell anyone how you felt about him. When he started showing interest in you, you were surprised. You jumped at the opportunity. He was everything you wanted, not only in a friend but in a boyfriend. Shoto made you laugh, and he knew how to listen. When you were sad, he'd ask what was wrong and then help you. He'd always make you feel loved, and when you were with him, you forgot the past cause you knew he cared.

Shoto was very famous, especially among the hero world. He was one of the strongest heroes, but he was also considered the most handsome. He was the "pretty boy" of the hero world. All girls wanted to be with him, and all guys wanted to be him, but he wanted to be with you. He loves you. Being such a famous hero and one that's so well-loved, he got a lot of extra attention. For example, he got contacted to do photoshops with top models on his off time. Shoto being the easy-going guy that he was, always agreed to help out. He didn't understand why everyone thought he was so good-looking, but he never minded modeling clothes or new hero suits when people reached out.

A few days ago, Shoto went for a photoshoot with some well-known models. He was out on patrol, but the mall came. You saw that the address was from the modeling company and decided to open it. You open and look at the spread of photos. You look at Shoto in all of them, smiling at how hot he looks. They would always style his hair so well. They had a few of him in glasses that made him look stunning, and the clothes complimented his looks. Your smile falters a little when you notice the models that are also around him.

He'd worked with the girls before, and you had even known at got to meet some of the more frequent ones he worked with, but that never stopped you from feeling bad, they were si beautiful, and you, you were only you. They had him with a group of girls. In one photo, he was in a chair, and they were around him, and in another, they were all standing as if taking a group picture. They also had him alone with a few of the girls. In one, it was him with a girl who was around his height and burnet hair. They were smiling and acting like a couple. The setting was the wintertime. In another, he was with a girl with black hair. He was hugging her from behind, his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her firmly against his chest. His head was leaning over her shoulder, smiling.

You knew that smile, his fake smile he used in public. He only ever truly smiled and was himself around you. You weren't worried he'd ever leave you, but maybe he should. He should be with someone who's not always called ugly, someone who's a model and super pretty. Your heart ached, he was the one person that made you feel special, that made you happy, but maybe that's what was best for him, not being with you. You knew better than that, you knew he loved you, he'd never want to leave you, but the thought always stayed in the back of your mind.

You walk away from the table, leaving the pictures there. You walk to the bedroom, whipping the tears in your eyes before they even fall. Shoto will be home soon, and you refuse to let yourself cry over this. At least, not here. You take a breath, calming yourself down. Right when you do, you hear the front door open. You turn, walking out of the room, putting a smile on your face as you greet Shoto. "Welcome back, Sho," you say. He hugs you. His eyes racked over you suspiciously. "You ok, darlin?" he asks. "Mhm. Yeah, I'm ok," you say with a fake smile. He frowns, looking past you at the table. "Is that the photoshoot spread?" he asks, walking to the table. "Yeah," you nod, standing awkwardly behind him.

He scans the photos, looking back over his shoulder at you before turning around. "Y/n. Were you upset because of these photos?" he askes, "I told you, I'll stop modeling if you don't like me around so many other women all the time," he adds. You trust Shoto. You have no reason not to trust him, but it's all the girls you don't. Not all of them knew you, and Shoto being as popular as he is, they could get some ideas and try to pull some crap. Plus, they were all so pretty. Flawless skin, perfect bodies, no one ever said those things about you.

"It's ok, Shoto. I know I'm not as pretty as those girls. Thanks for being with me though," you smile sadly at him. Shoto walks toward you, wrapping his arms around you and leaning his head to your ear. "Y/n, listen carefully. You're perfect. I don't want to hear you talk so bad about yourself. Those girls may be pretty, but they aren't you. All they care about is looks. You're natural and pretty, inside and out. Don't ever talk bad about yourself like that. I don't care about what people have said, they're wrong, your pretty and beautiful, and I love you. I will always love you. You and only you."

As he talks, tears fall out of your eyes as you hold on to him. He pulls back, taking your face in his hands. "Ok?" he asks. "Ok," you say. He smiles, kissing your forehead before turning to the table and taking the photos, putting them back in the envelope, and then walking back to you, putting his hands around your waist. "I'll talk to the studio, and maybe they can start putting me in more solo shoots," he says. "No, Sho, I wouldn't want to make you do that," you tell him. He shakes his head, "I don't care about all this modeling stuff anyway. It's a side hobby. I'd much rather you be happy, love," he smiles.

Shoto presses a gentle kiss on your forehead and walks you to the bedroom. You spend the night cuddling with him, constantly praising you and telling you how much he loves you. After that day, most of Shoto's modeling jobs would be solo. He only ever got the other models sometimes, and even with that, half the time, he'd pull strings and end up getting you into it with him. You were the "Prettiest Couple of the Hero Century."

Masterlist

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miekasa · 4 years

Text

future nostalgia (eren jaeger)

↯ pairing: eren jaeger x (fem) reader, armin is absolutely putting in the work and deserves wingman of the year, mikasa is your well-reasoned, protective friend how you like them apples

↯ genres and warnings: college au, fluff, everybody is a little bit of an idiot, armin and eren supremacy, i will find a way to make levi captain of something in any and every au

↯ word count: 1.5k

↯ summary: armin arlert is the greatest wingman a boy could ask for; unfortunately he’s also oblivious as hell and painfully single himself, but you know what, he’s doing his best (aka you and eren putting your friends through the mental wingman/wingwoman olympics).

↯ notes: i’m running out of gifs to use i’m going to have to learn how to use photoshop to make headers rip in peace to me, also this an old piece, reworked for eren again, sometimes i cheat off of myself it’s okay

“Just come by the rink during practice,” Armin pleas, “I promise, he can put his hot-headedness to good use!”

“I don’t doubt that,” you chuckle, your voice booming through the speaker of his phone, “But I’m pretty sure the rink is closed to non-athletes or team members, Armin.”

“But I can get you access! Manager’s privileges!” Armin boasts.

“While I appreciate the reminder about how single you think I am—and, I do, truly, Armin, from the bottom of my heart, thank you—you don’t have to try and set me up with one of your hockey jockeys.”

“They’re not jockeys!” Armin protests.

“Reiner Braun is most definitely a jockey.”

Armin slumps down a bit. Okay, most of them are good people. Most of the time. Look, Reiner is the exception, not the norm, but even he could be analytical and composed when he needed to be.

“I’m going to tell him you said that,” Armin threatens.

“Fine, then I’ll tell him that you almost leaked his nudes to the entire girls volleyball team freshman year.”

“You play dirty,” Armin pouts, face growing red at the memory. (In his defense, it was freshman year, pretty much the first time in his life he’d had alcohol unsupervised, and in his drunken haze he thought he might have been doing Reiner a favor; he was pining over Christa pretty hard). “Which is exactly why you’ll love Eren!”

“Eren, still?” you question, trying to hide the amusement in your tone. “What’s the infatuation with me and Eren? You know, if I’m being honest, Jean is more my type, or even the captain—what’s his name again?”

“You mean Levi?” Armin questions, incredulous, “He’s the exact opposite of your type, don’t lie to me!”

“He’s still hot.”

“Is he really?” Mikasa’s voice questions doubtfully; and you can practically feel her rolling her eyes from across the receiver, “You can do better than him, (Y/N).”

“Wait, am I on speaker?” you ask.

“Maybe, doesn’t matter,” Armin hums, brushing away the topic, “Like I was saying, Eren is great, and you’re great, so you’d be great together! Plus, he’s kind of loaded, and very generous. Not that you’re shallow or anything, but I’m just saying, he’d take you on nice dates.”

“You’re kind of loaded and you don’t take me on nice dates.”

“Because we’re not dating.”

“You could take me on a friend date,” you muse, “Don’t be stingy, Armin.”

“She has a point,” Mikasa quips, “You always go to the fancy museums and don’t invite us.”

“Because the last time I did, you fell asleep! In the middle of the coral reef exhibit!” Armin whines.

“Because it was boring as fuck,” Mikasa deadpans, prompting you to chuckle.

“I have to agree. I’m afraid if you and Eren have the same taste in dates, it will never work out.”

“We don’t!” Armin insists, “Look, Eren is exactly your type, (Y/N), I’m telling you! He’s cute, athletic, but not bulky, and little clumsy, but it can be charming! Plus he loves puppies, cares about the environment, believes the healthcare system is corrupt, and hates most branches of law enforcement! What more could you want!”

“Armin,” you pause, holding back your laughter, “Maybe you should set yourself up with Eren if you think he’s that great.”

Armin chokes on the other end of the line, and your chuckles stumble out; you can imagine the blonde growing red and increasingly embarrassed with every passing second.

Mikasa hums. “Armin and Eren do have good chemistry—”

“Hello?! I don’t want to date Eren!”

“—but, I’ll vouch for Eren on this, too,” Mikasa continues, “I think you two would be good together.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. You’d always known Mikasa was in support of setting you up with Eren too—albeit much more subtle than her blonde counterpart—but she’d never said it explicitly; showing her approval in contended nods and hums whenever Armin would scheme to get you and Eren together. It was somewhat reassuring to hear.

You’re about to continue teasing Armin about the subject, when you hear your apartment door unlock. You shift your phone to your other hand, as you hear the sound of keys clanging onto the hook near the door.

“Look, guys, I gotta go,” you tell him, “This is been fun, but maybe focus on working out your feelings before setting me up, yeah? I wouldn’t want to get in the way of such a beautiful friends to lovers story.”

“Will you—I want you to date Eren, not date him myself! There—be quiet, Mikasa—there are no feelings to work out, I don’t even like g—”

“Sounds, good Armin,” you chuckle, words hurried as you hear footsteps approaching you, “Try and get Levi’s number for me, would you? Rumor has it he’s loaded, too—old money rich and everything.”

“But Eren is perfect—” is all you hear before you end the call, a pair of arms wrapping around your waist from behind, just as your thumb presses against your screen.

Ruffled, brown hair falls onto your shoulders as a chin is propped up against your neck; a flurry feather light kisses greeting you soon after. You hum, reaching your hand back to curl into the brown tresses, a final, exaggerated kiss pressed into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Why are you trying to get Captain’s number,” Eren questions, voice muffled as he nuzzles his nose behind your ear, “No offense, but I think you’d have to line up behind his hundred and one fangirls first, babe.”

You chuckle lightly, neck growing warm as Eren continues to bury himself into your skin. His is cold from the winter air, but you don’t know why he insists on inflicting it onto you, when you know he’ll be back to furnace temperatures within the next ten minutes.

“I’m just messing with Armin,” you answer, resting on of your hands over Eren’s at your waist and giving it a squeeze, “He’s still trying to set us up.”

Eren chuckles, undoing his hold on you to spin you around to face him, cold hands cupping either side of your face. You scrunch your nose at the frigid feeling, but Eren finds it cute, leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of your nose as an apology.

“Well, Armin is nothing if not loyal,” Eren muses.

“He’s too good for you,” you jest, poking at Eren’s forehead playfully, “He’s putting in all this work to be a good wingman, and you’re slacking off.”

“Technically, he’s not doing any work, we’re already together.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Eren questions, using his hands to squish your cheeks together, “I wanted to tell him two months ago.”

“First of all, this secret thing was your idea to begin with,” you point out, “Which—oh, by the way, I told you Mikasa approves of you; she said we’d be cute together on the phone.”

“That doesn’t mean she still won’t castrate me if we ever break up,” Eren says, a shudder running down his spine at the thought of it.

It’s not that he wanted to keep your relationship a complete secret from all of your friends forever, but he was hesitant at first, unsure of how your two friend groups would merge and take the news. And, he knew how much Mikasa cared about you, and truthfully, the dark haired girl scared him a little.

But it was bordering on half a year now, and he was certain that somebody would catch on soon enough. That, or Eren would accidentally let it slip to the entire hockey team one of these days—he almost has on a handful of occasions, but you don’t need to know about all of that.

And while a part of him did like the privacy that came along with dating in secrecy, Eren was finding it increasingly difficult to pretend to not be in love with you whenever you two went out with your friends; and to not brag that he had a super hot, super supportive girlfriend to wear his jersey during games, and Jean didn’t.

“You have plans to break up with me, Jaeger?” you question, but there’s a playful lilt in your voice.

It makes Eren grin, using his grip on your face to pull you closer, words ghosting over your lips before he pulls you in for a kiss, “Not in a million years.”

#aot x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #eren fluff #eren smut #levi x reader

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shanaraharlyah · 3 years

Text

The Spellweaver

With Eamon on the mend thanks to the Sacred Ashes, Ysmeria and her companions remained in Redcliffe to recuperate and await his full recovery. Teagan insisted that they stay at the castle and tell him all about what happened at Haven. After dinner and recounting the story of their quest, Ysmeria tells Teagan of a magic blade she recovered from one of the cultists and asks him to teach her to use it. He agrees to do so after he completes his duties the following day.

---

So I started this back before I commissioned @nessguts lovely rendition, but I knew it would be a while until I finished it since there was a lot of work to do on the staircase and castle. I wanted to get it done before the end of February though since they look so cute. Also I was giving a go at @14daysdalovers prompt Flirty Banter in the story, but it might just be suggestive banter instead. ^.^'

Story is below the cut.

Pairing: Teagan Guerrin x Ysmeria Surana

Prompt: Flirty Banter

Word Count: 1173

Artwork setup and rendered in DAZ Studio 4.15 Public Build Beta.

Postwork in Photoshop Elements 8.0.

Bigger Here

An end to the daily petitions couldn't come soon enough for Teagan this day. As the last villager filed out of the Great Hall, he exuberantly got to his feet and set off down the hall toward his quarters in order to change. It seemed strange to feel so joyful during such a turbulent time, yet, here he was.

The wardens had returned to Redcliffe the day before, from a quest he believed impossible, baring a pinch of Andraste's ashes. His brother was recovering thanks to their efforts and the strong, beautiful woman who had captured his heart was back by his side. He had promised to teach her how to wield the sword she’d found while fighting cultists in Haven. When he’d asked her why she was interested in sword fighting when she could wield magic, she told him she had been studying an ancient elven specialization that would allow her to wear heavier armor and more easily wield heavy weapons. The concept seemed odd to him, but he could see the benefit to wearing more protective gear than a simple robe, so he agreed to help teach her.

Changing quickly into a simple sleeveless tunic and worn leathers, he hurried back downstairs and out into the courtyard where several of Eamon's knights were sparring. Ysmeria's companions were also about. "Making good use of the day, Alistair?" he greeted his nephew, who was ascending the stairs.

Alistair shrugged, "How is Eamon?"

"He's coming along. It may be a few days before he's fully regained his strength. Isolde is fussing over him which is a relief for me, though I'll be glad when he is well again and can return to his duties. Have you been down to the village to replenish supplies? From what you've all told me, I'd wager most have been spent on your journey."

Alistair shrugged again, "Ys is a very good healer and a more competent leader than she cares to admit. We had a couple of rough scraps, but her quick thinking may have saved us from the worst. I'm sure there are a few things we can pick up tomorrow, as well as a few to sell."

Teagan nodded as he scanned the courtyard to find Ysmeria practicing with the Spellweaver sword she'd claimed in Haven. "Have you shown her any techniques during your travels?" he asked as he watched her hack at a dummy one handed.

A sigh came from the young man standing beside him as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the tower, "She didn't even ask me to."

Teagan felt a pang of guilt for his nephew's melancholy. It was an awkward situation for them both. Until just over a month ago, he never would have guessed a woman as young and vibrant as Ysmeria would have chosen him over his strong and personable nephew. She had a strong bond with the young man over their trials together, but clearly it wasn't meant to be. Teagan reached out and squeezed Alistair's shoulder, "She will. There is only so much that I can teach her. Undoubtedly, you've had more, and better, training than I. She's only asked me because she wants to spend time with me while you are here. I am certain she knows you are the best person to learn from, and I know she cares about you regardless of her feelings for me. You will always be one of her closest friends and allies." He offered a kind smile and Alistair gave him a sad one in return.

"Cheer up, Alistair," he continued, nodding toward the sun which was beginning its descent, "In a few hours we'll have a good drink and a hot meal in our bellies. Enjoy the time you have to relax! I'm sure Eamon will put us all back on track when he feels better. I know you have been working very hard these last few months and you truly deserve a rest." With that he clapped his hand on his nephew's shoulder and continued down into the courtyard, nodding to Leliana as he passed her on the stairs.

Ysmeria was still slashing wildly when he approached her from behind and laid a hand gently on her shoulder. She stiffened, then immediately relaxed when she realized who it was. He trailed his fingers down her arm until they curled around her own. "Would you like some help with that, my love?" he purred into her ear, his voice deeper and more sensual than usual.

"Mmm. Glad you could join me," she teased, taking a step back so her back was flush against his chest. "I'm going to need a lot of practice."

"Is that so? Then I suppose you will be stuck with me for a time." A grin curled across his lips as he ran his left hand down her other arm and guided her hand toward the hilt of the sword, "Firstly, I'd suggest we start two handed. You'll want to be comfortable with the weight of the blade before we go one handed, and then we'll work on making transitions between the two."

Ysmeria allowed herself to sink into his embrace, enjoying his warmth and the feel of his heart beat against her back. She cast her eyes to the right letting them wander up his bare arm and come to rest upon his handsome face. He wore a playful smile as he awaited her next move. She shifted ever so slightly, just enough to feel the touch of his groin against her backside.

"I'd be careful not to wake the dragon, my lady," he whispered into her ear, the prickle of his whiskers sending shivers through her. "As much as I'd love to have you right now, we are not alone here. Unless you'd prefer to take this upstairs?" Teagan took a small step back and brought his hands to her hips, and in his regular tone continued, "We also need to work on your stance."

Ysmeria exaggerated the tilt of her hips and looked over her shoulder at him, "This is good, but I'll be expecting those lessons later."

A smirk extended across the bann's face and they continued this intimate dance into the afternoon as he taught her proper posture and guided her attacks. Their closeness didn't go unnoticed, as above them the recovering Eamon leaned on the window pane for support, "What does he think he's doing!? He knows he has an obligation to this family! If Connor cannot be my heir, it is up to him to produce one!"

"My love, please! Come back to bed," Isolde implored as she gently shook his shoulder. "Now is not the time to worry about your brother's dalliances. You need only regain your strength for your people. There will be time to address it once you are well and Ferelden is no longer under threat."

The arl's clenched fists slowly relaxed as Isolde reached for his hand, "You are right of course, my dear. I will yield for now."

To Be Continued...

#14dalovers #flirty banter #teagan guerrin #bann teagan #teagan x surana #teagan x ysmeria #ysmeria #dragon age #dragon age fanart #dragon age fanfiction #daz studio #iray render #artists on tumblr #shanarah art

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namjoonchronicles · 4 years

Text

impression | yg

↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship

↳ words 5.5k

↳ summary many forgot that when you marry someone, you marry their family too, at least that’s how Asian family is like

↳ warning that side of adulthood, lockdown because of pandemic, self-worth, over-sensitivity, pisces dude, married life conflicts

↳ song ariana grande ‘pov’

Just this morning you woke him up with ‘Daechwita’ blasting on his ear drums, dancing and prancing around the home gym in your spandex bra and sweatpants, rapping to every word he wrote, with more swag than ten Yoongis combined. Forehead glistened with sweat, rosy cheeks and more life in you than he ever had. He leaned by the door sill just watching in utter disbelief and renewed admiration to just how much you loved his music. It never gets old. But how the tables have turned, two minutes before midnight.

You’ve locked yourself in the bathroom, him leaning his back on the wall, speaking through the closed door, calling out for you.

“Talk to me. Please… Say something. Anything,” he puts his lips inches away from the door, covering his hand over his mouth to direct the sound towards you, hoping it would get through. Fat chance, but at least he tried.

Must be something in his drink last night for him to hear his own song even when he is sleeping, Yoongi thought. But he didn't drink last night? Yoongi pulled the duvet down his head, contorting his entire face and the blaring boom bass music, rippling through the miniature figure standees of famous baseball players he had lined up on the TV cabinet. The music was so loud, the pictures hung on the walls began rattling at each beat drop. Where is this music coming from??

Two seconds in, and the empty spot next to him spoke volumes. All answers were as clear as day.

Yoongi sat up on the bed, duvets pooled around his waist as he yawns loudly and his bed hair flopping on either side leans towards, some baby strands standing in all directions. He scratches his arms, neck and belly as he comes awake. Face puffy, eyes barely open, and cheeks as circle as they could be. He gathered the duvet to the side and pushed himself off to the edge of the bed while shoving his feet into his indoor slippers. He tried to fetch his phone from the bedside table and saw it vibrating on its own from the loud music.

"Better stop her before the neighbours come complaining…"

He waddles about the room lazily, dragging his feet, his arm reaching for the switch panel before he even arrives to have the curtain open and let the sun in. The automated curtain aligned and folded creases perfectly as it gathered itself to each designated side. The bed, the bed will be made up later after he advises his wife not to deafen the whole neighborhood with his albums and he could finally think.

The teal-colored walls that extended along the hallway of the house, decorated with wedding pictures, family pictures, his signed baseball jerseys, picture of his basketball days (the one he jumps for a slam dunk and especially proud of, you know the one), your graduation picture (with him professionally photoshopped in) and some lovely polaroids of your first unofficial date that he insists was official. More on that later. Yoongi walks pass this memory lane with a stern face, shooting glares ahead, marching in the direction of the music, which seems to be coming from the gym. What he saw was a petite figure, all hyped up, sweaty, holding up a water bottle to your lips like a microphone, mouthing his rap like it was your own. You saw him in the mirror reflection but instead of coiling away, shy, you spat his rap to his face with flaming confidence. Yoongi looks down with a shy smile, eyes turning small and polite, skin blushing pink with second hand embarrassment. His face is hot and your sweaty skin, hair plastered to your neck and forehead, in revealing spandex was not helping. Neither is your swag. He clamped his lips with his teeth while you pulled his arm so he would join you. He protested lazily but didn't resist as hard. He throws his head back, whining dejections but you couldn't care less.

"Are you making your own concert here? Plagiarising my songs?"

You heard him and grinned widely at the mirror. He folded his arms and watched you dance seductively and just as the rap got to the 'my tongue sends boys and girls to China' part, the music stops and he is no longer next to you but by the stereo and turning it off.

"Yoongi! I was working out!" "People are gonna come and complain…" "They know who you are…" "They know my name from you…"

Screaming underneath him, that's what he meant. You rolled your eyes at him. He passed you a face towel with a sheepish smile. Wiping your face with it, you watched Yoongi unplug your phone from the sockets. It reveals several missed calls from your mother in law, Yoongi's mom.

"Mom called…" "Really?"

You moved closer to him to see. Yoongi reads the message she sent you outloud and the colors drained down your face.

"What do I cook? What do I do? What does she usually have for lunch? OMG, I don’t know. Do we even have kimchis left? I hadn't restocked…" "She likes fried dumplings and soy garlic chicken stew… it'll be okay. She said she is coming around noon. It's just a little over 8 am… Go take a shower."

You scurried to the bathroom and did as told. Yoongi made the bed while he waited. He turns the cordless vacuum cleaner on but it beeped soullessly because it wasn't charged. He sighed. You always forget to charge them after using them. He opted for a broom and dustpan instead. Yoongi disappears into his home studio, to take the shampoo he had been using and after-shower lotion for you to use. He twisted the knob, knowing you wouldn't lock them when you shower. Knock on the glass door of the shower and told you to use them. You nodded, passing him a look over your shoulder but he was out as quickly as he entered. That cold, cold steely husband.

You stepped out of the shower wrapped in towels with your hair dripping wet, hurrying to the hairdryer to dry your hair. Yoongi walks in with nothing but a towel around his waist. He passes you a chaste kiss on the shoulder first, then your cheeks before he continues to unravel his briefs and showered as well. The water trickles down his face, neck and shoulders, cascading down his speckless back, over the bum of his ass and wetting his happy trails at the same time. He aggressively rubs water over his face, the tips of his hair appear darker as it gets wet. You dressed up in your oversized hoodie, a pair of jeans and red converse, hair tied up in a bun, grabbing your purse for a quick run to the store. If your mother in law is coming, the least you could do is cook an all korean cuisine, prep nicely on the table so she knows that her son was taken care of nicely. Giving her a lasting good impression was your core priority as of now. And Yoongi would have been more than happy to do the grocery for you but this time, just this once, you want to show him that you are dependable too.

If there is anything you learned from korean cuisine is that food is prepared meticulously like you would, a form of art. Everything is placed neatly on a plate, and wrapped tightly. Taste and looks must be perfect. Everything had a sequence. Tradition and culture shapes the good people of Korea to what it is today. And for Daegu native, Yoongi's deep accent and habits become one of the most significant traits that flags a Daegu representative. You are obsessed with getting it right. Although you mostly don't understand the heavy accents he tends to let slip out once in a while, you were expecting to guess the words as it comes. His accents are one of the things that you loved about him. Daegu dialects are strong, and oozing masculinity. They are often direct and unapologetic so it might be heard as harsh. You couldn't tell apart if he is cursing or if he is just plainly just talking about his day when his friends stop by. He caught you a few times, staring blankly at him when he blurted out dialects out of frustrations, and he laughed them off when you accuse him of lying to you about what the words actually mean.

With his mom stopping by, the dialects are going to be thick and you would probably stare blankly most of the time. Communications are limited and Yoongi had to come back and forth to translate some of them.

Korean cooking is not your forte. Let's put that out there, in the open for everyone to see and understand. You are not familiar with it, and although you love some of it, some just don't fit your taste buds. But Yoongi is a full blown Korean. You make adjustments here and there, but it's not like he is always around for you to cook them often. That's why your korean cooking skills deteriorated. Even simple things like choosing which mushrooms to cook with takes 10 minutes longer than it probably should. You went with your heart and took the one you saw first.

Yoongi came out from the baths to see an empty room. Your perfume wafts over his nostril and it tattles about your whereabouts. Just as he was about to investigate, his phone shrieked a calling tone. It was Jungkook. Asking for a chord. He sounds desperate and bored to death. Being a good friend, Yoongi speds to his home studio after clumsily putting on some white tee on top of a grey shorts, halfway through and sending him several chords the little guy could work with, then pulling the rest of the shirt down as it loads. He swore he didn't take long but he found you already changing your clothes and starting to chop things on the chopping board, sloppily. He knows that it was not you to do things sloppily so he offered to help sharpen the knives.

"Soy garlic stew?"

You chewed your lips at him as he asked and nodded. Anxiety was written all over you. Your hands were already so shaky, and that's why you couldn't hold the knife properly, aside from it being blunt. You turned to the sink and began chopping the scallions with another knife Yoongi handed you.

“There are some potatoes I bought in the paper bags, I brought the mushroom I am familiar with, I am not sure if it's the one used in the stew. What time is it already? Is this enough time to even cook the stew? The chicken hasn’t thaw has it? I am not going to have enough time… She is going to know that the dumpling is store bought and I am putting my pride on the line…” you spoke nonstop, didn’t even hear Yoongi if he was saying anything, which you assumed he was quiet, so you became annoyed and, “Why aren’t answering any questions I have??”

Yoongi stood there, with a blank expression, “You wouldn’t even let me talk…”

You answered your own questions, and he was here listening to everything, opening his mouth and closing it before any word could come out because you bulldozed him with words, as he dug out the potatoes you were talking about, as well as the mushrooms.

“I’m sorry, I watched the youtube video on making the stew on the way to the mart and it seems pretty complicated, but doable… I think that the ginger and garlic goes in first,” you paused and sighed, “It’s been awhile since I cooked a proper meal for myself. I don’t know if I had it in me to even do this anymore…”

That’s right. While Yoongi was always away from the last two years, his work trips extended from 3 months to a whole year, and while studying for your master’s degree, you opt for simpler food, just enough for you to get by the day with a filled stomach. Most of your time is dedicated to your studies and laundry. Stopping by Daegu was hardly done, and if anything, you would just send some gifts her way. It is pretty awkward between you and his mother; language barriers, interests, and principles. You didn’t notice when Yoongi was standing behind you, his hand was on top of yours, soothing over your knuckles and he hijacked the scissors from your hands gently.

And he whispered softly atop of your head, “I got this.”

Just like that, he took over kitchen duties and let you handle the simpler stuff like, putting the pot on the stove, fill water in it, skin the potatoes, chopped them into large cubes, unstub the capsicum, peel the skin off of the chicken, peel the garlic and ginger. Yoongi’s instructions are clear and easy to follow. After all the things are chopped and prepared, he hands the ladle to you.

Your eyes widen. And you shook your head. Stepping back. Yoongi clicked his tongue and chuckled through his nose. Coax you. But no, you stepped farther back. He then took your wrist gently and placed the ladle handle in your palm.

“Trust me?” “I trust you, it’s me I don’t trust.”

“I’ll help you every step. Let’s go. Have confidence!” “You’re the multi billionaire, I’m just the struggling degree student with a part time job.”

“You’re Min Yoongi’s wife.” “I find that hard to believe sometimes…”

With another scolding tut of his tongue, you conceded. With a heavy heart.

The chopped chicken pieces are placed in a boiling water pot, and when its reddish flesh turns white and is cooked, it is drained and washed underneath cold running water to remove impurities. You watched quietly as Yoongi cleans them with his capable hands. His veins protrude, extending well over his forearms. The tip of his fingers were pinker than the rest of his hands, and he smoothes over those nooks and crannies the chicken pieces have. As ridiculous as it may sound, you were quite envious of the fact that those chickens have his full attention now. Next, the carrots.

The carotene source is peeled and chopped in large size. Yoongi helped guide your hands over the handle of the knife, because he is pretty particular on how big he wanted those carrots to be.

“Isn’t that too large?” You asked him in a small voice. They are half the size of your thumb. “No, it’s just nice…” he replied in a low voice, his lips just behind your ear, “It has to be in the same size as the potatoes, so it will cook at the same time.”

Your bottom grazed over his front and he learns to just keep you sandwiched in between the counter and him, so it won’t turn to something else. He is just as anxious as you are with his mom coming. Therefore, the percentage of him turning frisky is zero to none. The onions come next. They are chopped in half and then into fours. Yoongi paused and braced himself for tear gas attacks only there was none. He asks where you bought those onions, and you replied, it was grown in your colleagues garden. They were given for free. And he comments,

“They should sell these, we will be their first loyal customer! It doesn’t sting!”

You laughed as you prepared the fruits you bought. It was rock melon and some papayas. You avoided buying tangerine because you know she will bring some from her hometown, knowing how much Yoongi loves them. Daegu’s tangerines are very sweet and plump. There is nothing like it. Yoongi sliced green onions for the stew and extra hot chili peppers because his mom likes them spicy. Then he prepares the mixture for the broth.

“Now watch,” he instructed you, “Soy sauce, rice wine, red chilli pepper powders, minced garlic, two cups of sugar, red pepper paste, sesame oil, pepper. Mix well.”

Yoongi prepared a pot and placed the cleaned chicken pieces in them, added potatoes, carrots and water with the mixture he made just prior. Then, boil. After the chicken is cooked thoroughly, he adds onions. Then the scallions. Then salt to taste. You prepared the oven and Yoongi carried the pot to it to keep it warm until his mom arrived. Dumplings were pan fried. That one was simple. His mom doesn’t like her beverages too sweet, a simple plain water is enough.

When all the food is done, you turn to him at the same time he did. Sweats rolling down his sideburns and his thin white shirt clinging on his skin like he ran a mile. You approached him with a huge smile, swept his hair back to reveal his forehead and dabbed your inner wrist to wipe away his sweat all around his face. He sniggers through his nose. Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, you can’t help but plant a kiss on them. Nuzzling your face on his neck, you draped your arm around his shoulder and mumbled, “Thank you…”

He leans his cheek on your head and kisses one side of your brain, before exclaiming that you both need another shower after cleaning up the kitchen and turning on the air humidifier to chase away the smell of cooking.

“How was the journey?” you chirped. “The weather is scorching hot, the sun is melting me away before I can meet my son,” Yoongi’s mom complained in a thick Daegu accent, and when she stepped in, she gave you a glance and straight away went looking for her precious son. As expected.

“He was just out of the shower, he will come soon, mother,” you said the last word awkwardly, it doesn’t really roll off your tongue as comfortably as it should. She replied to you with a dejected “Hmm.”

You blinked and cast your eyes downwards, then up again to change the topic, “...Let me take you some cold drink… it must have been a torture, to walk around in such hot weather,” you sped to the kitchen and grabbed her a cold water in a tall glass.

“Hello mom…” Yoongi revealed himself from the hallway, gave his mother a hug that you didn’t receive when she walked in. “It wasn’t torture when I’ve come to see my son!” She suddenly changed her words, now she is all bright and cheerful, and you disappeared from her sight completely unless Yoongi looks over to you and includes you in the conversation. That too, wasn’t permanent. Yoongi learned that his older brother’s wife is carrying a baby and Holly had been snuggling to her tummy at every chance she gets. The sight would have been adorable and they were able to take a picture of it so Yoongi’s mom excitedly showed them to Yoongi. They both are sitting on the sofa while you were in the kitchen scooping up cooked rice into bowls of three.

“This sofa is new isn’t it? I didn’t see it the last time I was here,” his mom asked. “Yes, yes… do you like it?” Yoongi said and said you chose them. Then her enthusiasm dissipates. “I like it better without one. Now it’s too westernized,” his mom’s lips turned lopsided, continuing, “Did you know that hanging your legs down will disrupt the blood flow up to your brain? We better sit down on the floor when we eat, too…”

Yoongi prepared a Japanese folded table and pushed aside the coffee table that was there. Everything you’ve prepared on the dining table was moved to the Japanese one. When everything is set, you and Yoongi wait for his mom to start eating before you both do. It’s tradition. Even between man and wife, the older one begins eating first. Yoongi sips the stew and then you begin scooping the stew into your bowl. You were the only one eating mostly with a spoon instead of chopstick since you aren’t too accustomed to it. Yoongi’s mother said in a joking tone that you should start using the training chopstick used by toddlers.

Why are you extra sensitive today? She was just joking, but smiling is so hard right now. Your cheeks feel heavy and your shoulders stiffened. Yoongi carried the rest of the conversation effortlessly. The deep Daegu accent is already shifting your attention towards the fried dumpling instead. It was just a little over 45 minutes since she arrived, why does it feel like days?

“Dumplings, mother?” You chirped, attempted to use the chopstick and successfully landed them in her bowl.

Then she puts them back where they were, and said, “I don’t eat store-bought dumpling, darling,” before resuming to tell Yoongi the story about her neighbour getting into a real estate feud. You hold your breath in your throat and try not to think about it too much. Although you’ve finished your bowl of rice, Yoongi still hasn’t. He was busy nodding away to what his mother was saying. She barely touched the stew. When she turned to her food, you tapped Yoongi’s knee underneath the table and he looked at you wide eyed, darting at the stew. And Yoongi’s lips turned to the shape of an “O”.

“How do you like the stew, mom?” He asked. “It’s okay…” “My wife made it…” Yoongi said with a smug smile.

You smiled, shyly.

“It tastes exactly how Yoongi would cook it. I thought you cooked it, I know how horrible her korean cooking is, Yoongi… You don’t have to lie to me,” his mom passed.

After bidding her farewell at the door, Yoongi accompanied her to his brother’s incoming vehicle that fetches her. His brother made a promise to stop by when the baby arrives and when the Covid cases reduce a bit. You watched from the window from your bedroom and when the car drove off with Yoongi waving goodbye to his mom, your heart thudded differently.

Your eyes stung, and tears impending to fall as it collected around the brims. As you heard the front door beeping open to Yoongi returning, your feet dashed to the bathroom door, pushing it open as your tears rolled down your face like a dam broke.

Sensitive? Too soft? Was I too emotional? Am I not trying hard enough to be enough?

Yoongi walks in, to an eerily silent house. Ridding his shirt by pulling it over his head as he walks down the dimly lit hallway. His heavy footsteps heard across the floorings and you covered your mouth with your hand to not make any sound. He noticed that the bathroom light was on unlike the rest of the room.

“You’re showering alone? Traitor…” he pouted and wriggled the door knob and noticed it was locked from the inside. “I have a stomach ache,” you hoped you sound convincing. Your voice didn’t sound as shaky and you hope he didn’t catch on. “Okay…” he said, after a long pause. You turned the shower on to reduce the sound of you crying, and went back to sitting on the floor by the door, dug the heels of your palm into your eyes socket, and hugged your knees, sniffling.

“Hey…” his voice muffled through the door. “Hmm?” you replied, through a broken smile.

“Are you okay?”

Another dam broke.

Shit, I’ve started crying again. Why can’t I stop crying?! He is going to find out now… Fuck.

“Talk to me. Please… Say something. Anything,” he puts his lips inches away from the door, covering his hand over his mouth to direct the sound towards you, hoping it would get through.

“Was it mom? She says something you don’t like? You know how mom is, right? She doesn’t mean any of it…” now it’s Yoongi’s turned to bulldoze you with questions he himself answered.

Unable to take it anymore, you had to speak out, even if it means behind closed doors.

“I know she doesn’t like me as a daughter-in-law…” you spoke in broken voices. “Nonsense…” Yoongi passed, nonchalantly.

“No, will you please just listen to me?!” you raised your voice a bit, “I am not like your brother’s wife who cooks great Korean food, who sends her nice homemade desserts to her likings, and now is bearing a grandchild for her. I can’t cook, and had to rely on you a lot. She came over and she didn’t give me a hug like she did you, and the whole she doesn’t even speak to me unless I speak to her first, and even then, she shuts me down so I couldn’t say another word. I can’t even use a damn chopstick or make homemade dumplings she’ll eat!”

It’s Yoongi’s turn to lean his back on the door and hug his knees, then hang his head low.

“Suddenly the sofa is too westernized. And the glass doors letting in too much sunlight when I renovated it the way she wanted. It seems like everything I do is wrong and I just have no place in the Min’s household no matter how hard I try,” you sniffed, and, “To make matters worse she brought up the girlfriends you had in high school and how they cook her favourite food! Girlfriends! Plural! Here I thought you only had one… Jokes on me, I guess… It’s fine, honestly.”

There's nothing more terrifying than the word ‘fine’ you threw when you’re sad and Yoongi knows it. It signifies so many things. It indicates that you’re done, and you’re ready to let go of it, by shoving it under the rug like many other things your mother in law did to you ever since you met her. Yoongi shot his head up when the door opened and his eyes followed you in silence, a little solemn. You dried your hair, sitting on the makeup chair table, running the cool air Dyson hairdryer over the lengths of your hair. Yoongi crawled on all four and knelt behind you to hug your waist, nuzzling his face on your lower back. Then the tears returned, and kept falling.

Your gaze is stuck on the reflection of you in the mirror. What have we become?

It was one of those moments where no words seemed to suffice. Regrets and guilt becomes almost the same thing. Pointing the blame is the last thing on your mind. Choosing sides is difficult when so much is at stake. You may have unclasped his arm from around your waist, heard his wordless gesture and refused to see his face, but so much of him is in you. The fact you held on for so long was because of that man you love and married. Is this going to happen everytime your mother in law stops by?

Even then, you didn't want him to go against his own mother, nor do you want him to side with her… It was such a confusing situation.

Yoongi needs to return to the studio. He packs a few toiletries and clothes for him to wear while he is there. You helped him pack leftover food so you are not burdened to finish everything alone. The conversation shifts to what matters now. You carry your duty as a wife, his partner. You make sure that he is able to provide for this family and even though your emotions are once again neglected for the time being, you were glad that it actually occupied your mind and heart.

At the door, his manager carried his things and instead of leaving along with his manager, Yoongi told him to go first. You already know what comes next. But you aren't sure if you had it in you. One look in your eyes and Yoongi knows that you will rather die than have that conversation all over again. He ran his finger through your hair, lowered his lips to your forehead and stayed like that for awhile, and you said,

“Take care of yourself,” you spoke to his chest, breathing in his musky cologne for the days ahead without him. He stepped back, thumbed your cheek and pinched your chin, tilting your head back. He glanced at your lips while biting his own then backed away, to leave. As the view of his back got smaller and smaller, he exclaimed, “I’m going.” Not once did he turn behind to have one last look. And it was something Yoongi would do. Doesn’t matter if it's at the airport, or at the backstage, he will never look at you after he leaves you, even when he knows you’re right there standing, and looking at him. He says that, if he saw you standing there waiting for him, he will not be able to fight the urge to run to you. So he never looks back. The one thing that he always does before a work trip, is to kiss your forehead. Dr. Laurel Steinberg says, a forehead kiss indicates strong emotional intimacy.

But Yoongi says that a forehead kiss to him signifies a bond that goes beyond lust and love, it was your soul. It is to say, “I might be too far away to hold you, but my soul is yours.” It sends butterflies and confettis your way when he does it. It always feels warm and you always feel protected with a stamp of Yoongi’s lips on your forehead. It feels like a talisman. That no matter what, Yoongi is here.

Recovery. The emotional turmoil, the rollercoaster. You fill your time organizing the photos Yoongi took. With your final exams finished a week ago, you’re given a month off before you begin your final year. Yoongi now lives in his studio office because the album recording session begins and he is in every process. He is in charge of doubling and finalizing the tracks, directing and whatnot. Yoongi sends you a 1 minute 23 seconds video. Scowling at it, your face softened at the sight of him, recording himself in the studio. Dark circles doubled in size and his cheeks sunken. Poor thing hadn't been eating well did he?

“Hey, sweetie…” his familiar guttural voice resonated with your heart strings, “Sorry I haven’t been able to properly give you a call. It’s too late when I’m free, and I’m asleep when you’re awake. So I figured I’ll just send you a damn video, to hell with it.” You chuckled softly as your visions turned blurry.

“I think I will be addressing the recent issue we tucked away for later day. It’s later. You have never been good at fighting for yourself. It was something I don’t really understand because I’ve seen you fight my fight for me,” he glanced to the side and smiled fondly. You were unclear what situation he was talking about but you kept listening.

“You told me that I shouldn’t side with you because that would mean I am against my mother. Here’s what I truly think…” he breathed in and sighed loudly, “I think I should side with you. I spoke to my mom a few days ago, asked her how she is, and I told her several things I don’t like, like bringing up my past ex girlfriend, or how you can’t use the chopstick yet, or how your korean cooking isn’t great yet… how upset it made you and me. She told me that she was just jealous. I left home when I was 16. Come back when I am 20, married at 25. I will always be her son, I let her know that. But I am now someone’s husband, and I happen to cherish this someone, her heart and her wellbeing is my responsibility. I am not stolen from my mom, I consciously chose this person to be with me, to be her husband and built a home with her. And if she can’t respect that, then she cannot return to our house…”

You had to set the phone down and wipe your tears with the back of your hand.

“I’m done being a referee,” Yoongi continued after a long pause, “You’re gonna cry again, and I won’t be able to pass you tissue or give you a hug, I hope you understand what I’m trying to say. I am proud of you and all the little things you do. Daegu dialect is difficult to understand ha? That’s alright. You’re getting your degree, and you help pack my things even though you’re sad as hell the day I left. I couldn’t… I couldn’t ask for a better wife, and I hardly think I deserve you. Until we meet again, soon. Your husband, Min Yoongi.”

The video cuts to him winking.

Another text from him,

[Yoongi, 1.03AM] Impression is never permanent. I hope you give mother another try…

Wife is typing...

[Wife, 1.04AM] Erm. [Wife, 1.04AM] Sends a pic.

[Wife, 1.05AM] How’s this for a lasting impression?

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majwrites · 3 years

Text

Beauty Standards

Don Flack x Reader (Romance)

Summary: Reader gets insecure about their looks and contemplates ending their engagement with Flack.

A/N:This one was requested by @sirishavenigalla. I'm not that experienced with writing romance, so I hope it turned out alright.

Warnings: Reader struggles with their self image, fighting in a relationship, some angst

Something about Don Flack seemed off today. Danny had noticed that his friend wasn't the attentive, focused detective he usually would be. After Flack had snapped at Mac Taylor, didn't eat anything for lunch and left all paperwork unfinished in a messy pile, Danny decided he had to confront his friend about this: "Don, we need to talk". "Why, what is it", right now Flack sounded only sad and tired. "Something is going on with you. It's not only that you are not focused on the case, you're wearing a Stone Temple Pilots shirt to work. It's nothing you'd normally do and I know that this shirt is not yours but (Y/N)s", Danny wasn't only worried about Flack, but also about (Y/N). It was well known that Don Flack and (Y/N) (L/N) had a tendency to make really emotion based decisions. Flack waited for a bit before he started talking: "(Y/N) left me behind". "What do you mean?", Danny was confused, it had always seemed like (Y/N) and Don had a picture perfect relationship. They had met at a concert. Sam had dragged him there and he hadn't really been in the mood for a concert but that had changed once he saw (Y/N) in the crowd. Three years had passed and they had recently gotten engaged. Why should all of this be over now?

Now the answer to this question wasn't an easy one. We live in a society where people get judged by others and feel pressure to meet beauty standards that are often impossible to achieve. (Y/N) was usually aware of the fact that everything they saw in magazines was usually photoshopped to a point where it wouldn't even be possible to fit all important organs into the model, but ever since one of their family members had asked them if they put on more weight, (Y/N) started to feel more and more insecure about their weight. They had suffered with body image issues a lot when they were younger and now they feared that they weren't good enough for Flack. They loved him so much and right now (Y/N) was so convinced that they couldn't make him happy that they made a rushed decision. (Y/N) left the shiny engagement ring on the kitchen table and added a note.

Donnie, I'm very sorry to do this, but I need space to think about something. I'm only doing this for you.

-(Y/N)

And so, (Y/N) left the apartment to spend the day somewhere else.

"Did you try calling them?", all of this seemed very odd to Danny, "you definitely have to talk about this". "They won't pick up the phone and they're very vague in the answers to my texts. I don't know what to do anymore, maybe this is all my fault". "You should go and find them, our case is closed anyway and we have the rest covered", Danny sounded very convincing. "Thanks Danny, I'll go and try to fix this", Flack left the CSI building.

He finally found (Y/N) at a motel, sitting on the chair in front of a mirror. He wanted to go in for a hug immediately but as (Y/N) stood from the chair they pushed him away. "Why did you just leave? I was worried sick about you, is it something I did?", he sounded angry for some reason. "You wouldn't understand it anyways", the last thing (Y/N) wanted was a fight but it just happened. "What do you mean, (Y/N)? Am I not good enough?", even Don Flack gets insecure when it comes to the love of his life. "No, that's the problem, Donnie. You're perfect. You're the best boyfriend anyone could ask for and you deserve so much better than being with me", (Y/N) started crying and they hated it. Flack just stared in confusion as (Y/N) continued: "Just look at me, I'm boring and ugly and as my family never fails to tell me, I've been putting on weight. I don't deserve someone as good as you, in fact I deserve to be alone forever, because no one could ever love me". Flack needed a moment to process everything that (Y/N) had just said. Then he pulled them into a hug and this time they just let it happen. He started to ramble: "(Y/N), please don't think like that. I love you more than anyone else on this planet. Whatever other people say about you doesn't matter. You're perfect to me just the way you are". (Y/N) started crying even harder but Flack just held onto them. He continued: "I love the way you look at me when you get really excited about something, and I love how you sing along to every song and can always tell me what a song is called when I only know three words and the melody. You're the most kind and caring person I know and I love the way you look, you're the most beautiful person to me even when we take a walk at night and the only light comes from a street lamp". "Do you really mean all of this, Donnie?", (Y/N) leaned their head against his shoulder. "Every single word. And what's really impossible for me is to stop loving you, so will you please stay with me?", he looked at them with a pleading expression. "Of course I will. I love you so much. I'm sorry for reacting like this", (Y/N) felt a little embarrassed about it now. "Don't apologize, it's not your fault", Flack fished (Y/N)s engagement ring out of his pocket and slid it back onto their finger.

"Do you want to come back home with me?" "Yeah, let's go", and so they left the motel.

#csi ny #reader insert fanfiction #gender neutral reader #don flack x reader #don flack #csi new york #romance

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beware-of-you-98 · 4 years

Text

BAU as College Professors AU

*cracks knuckles*

Penelope

penelope is a graphic design professor

she loves teaching kids about the wonders of photoshop!!

hates illustrator and indesign with a burning passion

(the illustrator pen tool can fucking choke for all she cares)

(AND HOW THE FUCK DO YOU PUT THE FRONT AND COVER TOGETHER IN INDESIGN!?!?)

(she really hates both applications sm 😭)

is always reluctant to teach them but does it begrudgingly

(she’s just glad there’s other professors in the department that teach editorial and graphic illustration)

teaches photography!!

encourages the students to be as expressive as they want to be with their pictures!!!

she’ll be just as enthusiastic to see a close up of a sneaker as she is to see a sunset landscape shot

teaches the graphic design studio classes too!!

she always has music playing!!

half the time, her students come into the class and her glasses are all skewed, her hands are covered in paint or glue and some abstract art piece is sitting on her desk

when the students ask her what it is, she just gives the projects human names

“hey professor... what did you make there?” “oh, this?? her name is... pam.... yeah, pam”

she doesn’t offer up any further explination than that

and the students just accept it

her office light is always off

but she has multiple fairy lights in various colors hung up

her office is v inviting!!!

students come to her to vent or to talk about their problems bc the campus therapist doesn’t help all lmao

she always has on the most unique outfits but she pulls them off so well

a ray of sunshine tbh!!

Spencer

teaches major science and math courses

he teaches chemistry but only chem for majors in chemistry

it’s not that he can’t teach chem for non majors

but he sometimes gets too ahead of himself and forgets he’s teaching a course for non majors

it’s easier for him to teach for majors because the students can follow his ramblings better

he teaches upper level math courses and usually only has like three students in those classes

he’ll sit up on his desk and debate with the students for the entire hour about the riemann hypothesis

he gets excited because the students are just as enthusiastic as he is

he is two extremes

he either shows up to his classroom like a half hour early and writes out all his notes on the board so that when the students come in, he can go right into lecture

or he’ll show up two minutes before class starts with his hair disheveled, his tie undone and his expression glazed over and just be like “listen up i woke up late and just downed an entire pot of coffee i brewed with several cans of monster energy—i don’t exist on this dimension anymore”

on those days, he lets his students work on other projects for other classes because he knows it’s not fair to ask his students to focus if he’s not

he helps them with their homework

penelope brings him lunch sometimes to make sure he’s eating

he appreciates it a lot because between lesson plans and grading, he sometimes forgets to eat

he’s absolutely the youngest prof on campus

sometimes even his students are older than he is

but everyone addresses him correctly and respects him bc he’s really chill

his office is a disorganized mess

there’s files and papers all over his desk

and a sculpture penelope made for him (she named that one “roger”)

psychology professor

she really has a passion for teaching and learning about human psychology

(she may have started to become interested in psychology bc her sister was in the psch honors course before she died)

she comes across as a little hostile and unapproachable tbh

but she’s young

and she’s attractive

and she’s not conveniently what people think a professor looks like

she’ll respect her students if they respect her

she didn’t graduate the top of her class and work her ass off for the degree to not be respected

if there’s any inappropriate comments aimmed towards her or anyone in the class, she kicks the aggressor out immediately

she stands at the front of the room and lectures for the beginning part of the semester

once she’s built a good rapport with her students (and vise versa), she becomes more chill

she’ll sit on the edge of her desk and encourage discussion rather than following a book or a set plan

(she finds it’s more interesting that way anyway)

sometimes her students will show up ten minutes before class starts just to talk with her once they’re comfortable with her

she always answers her emails students send her (queen shit tbh 👑)

some kids in the psych major course playfully call her “mom” because she always asks them how they’re doing and about their week

(she hasn’t decided how she feels about it, but she also lets it slide)

always wears pants suits but cuffs the sleeves to the jackets

her office always smells like eucalyptus because she has a small mist diffuser plugged in

she also has a small fish tank with a beta fish inside (its the appropriate size too!!)

(she let a student name the fish—it’s name is sir bubbles of argon)

she also has a sculpture from penelope (“her name is maxine”)

her desk is very organized and clean!!

there’s a small couch in her office and her door is always open

sometimes, students will come in if they’re having a hard time and need someone to talk to

they know jj is there to listen and she always seems to understand (she doesn’t judge them either)

Emily

teaches three languages, both for majors and non majors

spanish, french and russian

(she’s also quite fluent in arabic and italian and can hold her own if she’s speaking in german or mandarin, but the students don’t need to know that)

she’s actually very intimidating lmao

students are so scared of her 😭

she’s serious af

(she smiles in class sometimes though!!)

(besides, she’s only serious inside the classroom)

(outside the classroom, she might even be as approachable as penelope)

always dressed in expensive black suits, polished heeled shoes with very dark makeup and a “don’t fuck with me” steely attitude to match

she also wears expensive watches

she always stands at the front of the class and slowly paces the entire hour

one time someone decided to fuck off in her spanish 101 class

she didn’t even yell at him, she glared

rumor has it the kid was never spotted on campus again after that

(BOY SHE SCARED HIM SO BAD HE DROPPED TF OUT)

despite that, her classes are some of the easiest to take

one because emily has a way of teaching that helps all students understand

and two because her voice is naturally very easy to listen to

students taking her french 101 are going to leave the class speaking fluent conversational french

she also doesn’t tolerate people being racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, etc in her class

if she catches a bigoted comment someone makes in her class, she kicks them immediately

she brings in her cat sometimes

he’s all black and his name is sergio

(he’s her esa that she brings in when she’s feeling really stressed out)

he’s clipped on a harness and sits on her shoulder or on her desk

if he meows, she accepts it as an answer

it’s the only time the students ever see professor emily prentiss as soft

well

other than the days she has the class watch foreign films because the students can tell emily has a fondness for them

her office is pretty organized like jj’s

instead of it being light and inviting, emily decorated her office on a more dark side

she has a few animal skulls, crystals and other gothic memorabilia on her desk or bookshelf

she has a small cat bed on the corner of her desk that sergio sleeps in

on the other corner is a sculpture penelope made her

(it kinda looks like a crow and emily named it kurt)

really, the only colors in her office are dark, deep purples and the small lesbian pride flag sticker on the back of her laptop

Derek

teaches history classes

but like modern history

from like 1940s to present

he refuses to follow most western history books bc they’re not accurate like at all

in his first year of teaching, the dean of his department made him use a book and he hated every second of it

how accurate could the information be if they portray king tut as a white guy???

he graduated under one of the best historians in the country

he also traveled a lot after he graduated and met a lot of people that had first hand experience with major historical events

that’s really what he bases his teachings off of—first hand experiences and encounters

every two weeks or so, he’ll invite in guest speakers to his classes to talk about what they went through (depending on his lesson plans)

that’s how he likes to teach and learn (bc he always loves to learn new things!!)

this is random, but also he is the type of professor to randomly box jump up onto a desk

he also sits in chairs backwards and has a more laid back style to teaching

his exams are based on what the students can learn from history rather than the information itself

he’s always dressed super casual!!

solid color, short sleeve button ups are a favorite!! (no tie)

he gets along with all the students

he’ll talk to the athletes about their games but sound just as enthusiastic and genuine talking with students who are majors in fine arts about their projects

he’s just a v down to earth professor tbh!!

he brings in clooney so much

like... every friday

it’s just another bonus of taking his history classes!!

he and penelope are dating

his office is full of sculptures she makes for him 🥺

he drops by her graphic design studio class with clooney to help out or even to just watch

he’s supportive and encouraging of penelope and her art!!

other than the sculptures penelope makes him, his office is a bit more disorganized than jj’s or emily’s, but cleaner than spencer’s

he has a few papers scattered on his desk but mostly he’s a little more put together

his office door has a small basketball hoop attached that he plays around with if he’s bored (and if penelope is busy)

both he and penelope have a dog bed in their office and water bowls for clooney when he comes in

Hotch

law professor

is the most intimidating professor on campus

seriously

if students think professor prentiss is intimidating, they haven’t met professor hotchner

he stands in the front of the room and goes over his lecture without pausing or asking questions

his voice is naturally low and intimidating and he actually never smiles

his attire and appearance is always so professional

suits

ties that are tied so tight, they look like they’re choking him

shoes so polished, he can see his reflection in them

hair always styled neatly

pants and jacket are always wrinkle free

his classes are difficult

not just because of the subject matter, but because he has a very organized, straight forward method to his teaching

students wouldn’t dare act up in his class—they’d be absolute idiots to

he’s quiet and reserved outside the classroom

if the others hear anyone talking shit about hotch behind his back, they’re always quick to come to his defense

they actually know hotch

they know he puts on a hardass exterior, but really he’s just a softie

he always lets them hang in his office with him

he listens to spencer’s ramblings and is extremely patient with him

he has lunch with emily every other day

even if she’s a pain in his ass 99% of the time, he likes that she sticks around and that he can trust her

he shows up to all of penelope’s art shows

and sometimes sits in on derek’s lectures when he has guest speakers

jj brings him pastries from the coffee shop on campus sometimes

he knows that he can come to her if he ever has anything he needs to talk about

(he never opens up to her but he really appreciates the sentiment nonetheless)

penelope has definitely made hotch a few sculptures

(he keeps them at home, but he does have one of her paintings hanging in his office)

speaking of his office it’s hands down the most organized out of all of them

his desk is so clean besides the picture of his son he proudly displays at the corner

he always has his lights off and his door shut

he seems so unapproachable, especially in class

but sometimes his lecture notes have crayon scribbles all over the page

or a small sock will fall out of his briefcase

and maybe, even for a moment, his serious demeanor falls when he spots them

and it almost reassures the students that he is human

Rossi

actually he’s the only one besides maybe reid i can see being a criminology professor

is a retired fbi agent

and successful author

so like that hasn’t changed from canon

but because he doesn’t work for the fbi anymore, he has absolutely no chill and tells all secrets

he’ll be like

talking to his class about a case he worked on in ‘83

and be halfway talking about details of cases that were supposed to be confidential

he’ll pause and go “oops” but keep talking lmaooo

penelope actually never made him a sculpture

instead she made him a coffee mug she made on the wheel and glazed herself!! (she even made her own glaze bc she’s extra like that)

carved on the side is “world’s best italian dad”

(this is because when emily introduced rossi to the group she was like “yeah he’s kinda like my dad” and now everyone calls him “dad”)

(he loves it so much though and proudly accepts his title)

he loves his mug so much and uses it every single day!!!

he’s the only professor besides penelope that let his students refer to him without the title of “professor”

he gives off kind old grandpa vibes

and that he’s only teaching because he really doesn’t have anything better to do during his retirement

but he’s chill and his class is interesting to take

(plus he really does love to teach)

he’ll ramble on and on about his “golden years” as an agent

he will especially talk a student’s ear off if they come up to him and tell him that they read one [or all] of his books

he writes a different quote on his board every single day

his attire is always business casual

he sits on the edge of the desk or on a swivel chair because it’s comfy

he was doing a lecture on jack the ripper and just pushed himself around on the swivel chair, slowly spinning around the front of the room

his voice kept changing in volume every few words because of him facing the wall and then a few moments later facing the classroom

his students refer to him as a “living breathing meme”

he has no idea what the fuck that means

but he take it as a compliment

his office is empty because he goes home after he’s done with classes lmao

he doesn’t do paperwork

or fuck with technology (he never fucking responds to emails smh)

so he has no need for an office

#criminal minds au #penelope garcia #spencer reid #jennifer jereau #emily prentiss #derek morgan #aaron hotch hotchner #david rossi #honestly not much has changed about rossi from canon #but #ye #also #half of these are based on my college experiences lmao #my history professor brought his pair of poodles to class like every other week and it was the only reason i didn’t drop the class #my math professor walked into class one morning and just fucking box jumped up onto a fucking desk for no reason #during dead week my graphic design professor let us watch katy perry music videos for an entire class period it was grear #my gd studio professor was a weird dude but his class was so much fun #i’m still pressed about professors not responding to my emails tbh #professors: email me if you have any concerns or questions #me: (emails profs)#profs: (never respond or even read emails)#fuck right off lmao #long post #emily has a sculpture now pls #college professor au

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storyofmychoices · 3 years

Photo

First Impressions

[Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley Masterlist]

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley (OC) Other Characters (mentioned): Jackie Varma, Unnamed MC Book: Open Heart (Book 1, Chapter 1) Word Count: <1,400

Prompts: polaroid @choicesaprilchallenge2021; for anon who asked “First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight?” For Bryce x Olivia [Short answer: yes!]

Synopsis: Bryce and Olivia meet for the first time in the Edenbrook locker room on the first day of their intern year. Neither of them expected to feel what they felt about someone they didn’t even know yet.

Her smiling face stared back up at her from her new hospital ID badge. “Doctor Olivia Hadley”, she traced the first word with her finger, still in disbelief. It didn’t feel real. She was a doctor. All of her hard work and dedication had finally gotten her where she wanted to be: helping people. She had dreamed of being a doctor her entire life. Edenbrook was a big step up from diagnosing and treating her bears and dolls as a child.

She was a doctor. She had made it! A little squeal slipped from her lips; her hand quickly clapped over her mouth, hoping no one had heard it.

Her embarrassing slip seemed to go unnoticed. Two doctors in their underwear bickered while talking to another doctor who had just arrived; her scrubs were already soiled from triaging a patient on the way in.

Olivia's gaze settled on the male doctor who stood almost proudly in his boxers, no modesty or shame. His confidence was overwhelming. Her heart fluttered as her she took him in.

His laughter was infectious. It melted through her nerves and worries. Something about it was calming. Behind the boisterous cock-sure tone, there was a genuine joy in its melody. His brown eyes glowed with a beautiful fire. It was a rare sight to see.

The muscular doctor argued cheekily with a gorgeous female doctor. A pang of disappointment filled her as she listened to their spirited teasing Olivia wondered if they were a couple already or if they were on their way to it. She wasn't sure why she cared. She wasn’t there to engage in a fling; she was there because her life’s purpose had always been to help and to heal. She reminded herself that she didn’t even know his name, so how could she already feel for someone she hadn’t met. She thought herself better than falling for a party boy. Sure, he looked like his stomach and chest had been carved from caramel-colored marble and every inch of it was real and not photoshopped. She knew that meant nothing; although, her whole body warmed at the thought.

Olivia took a deep, focused breath, turning back to her locker. He was so out of her league; there wasn’t even any use fantasizing about it (even though she could already tell it would be a fantastic fantasy).

She took a polaroid photo of herself as a child wearing a lab coat, dressed as a doctor for Halloween, and tacked it up to remind her how far she had come. If that little girl could see her now; a soft smile grew on her face at the memory and all those memories she had made on her journey to get here.

The playful bantering of the three doctors seemed to die down. She could hear the two female doctors' conversations fading as they left the locker room. She tossed her hair behind her shoulders and readjusted her lab coat. Taking one last look in her little mirror, she shut her locker quietly, hoping to slip out unnoticed.

“Hi.” His cool voice greeted her, as the still shirtless doctor leaned casually against the lockers. He gave her his most charming grin. If this were a cheesy romantic comedy, his teeth would have been sure to sparkle.

Olivia shook her head, trying to remember what words were as his gaze drew her deeper. “Uh, hi.”

“I'm Bryce.” He smirked, stepping closer and offering her his hand.

She swallowed hard, reluctantly accepting his gesture. “Liv. Olivia. I’m a pediatric intern. Pleased to meet you.”

He turned her hand in his own, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. Her skin was soft and inviting. He didn’t want to let go. His voice was smooth and sultry, “the pleasure is all mine.”

She pulled her hand back, trying to hold in her slight scoff. She had heard him use that same line on one of the other doctors just a few minutes earlier. She cleared her throat. Weakly, she asked, “do you mind putting a shirt on?”

He raised his brow questioningly but threw his surgical scrubs on. “Better?”

“Immensely,” she rolled her eyes, unamused.

“I aim to please,” he winked, moving closer once more. His gaze settled on hers as if he had something more to say, but no words came.

The fire in his eyes drew her in like a moth to a flame. She had thought seeing him clothed would break the illusion and free her from his pull; but, she was caught in his gaze like she assumed so many others had probably been, completely enraptured by his beauty. For a moment, she forgot why she was there and the promise she had made to herself and her parents: no first-day flings. A blissful warmth washed over her as his smile widened. She wondered what he was thinking and if he felt the same odd stillness and warmth that she did standing there with him. It was peaceful, a quiet hope-filled moment with a whispered promise of something she couldn’t quite understand. Her eyes closed as her smile grew too wide, breaking the spell.

Drawing in a deep breath, Olivia took a step back. "I should—" Her fingers pointed over her shoulder to leave, but her feet stood still.

As if coming out of a trance himself, he shook his head letting the locker room shift back into focus. He noticed for the first time that all of the other interns had since left. "Me too."

"We don't want to be late," Olivia lied; everything in her wanted nothing more than to stay in his warm glow.

"Right." He agreed, turning back to his own locker and shoving his stuff in swiftly. He had planned to be the first surgical intern at the meeting to make a good first impression, but here he was still there with her. He wasn't sure how much time had passed or how he so easily let it slip away from him. "See you later, Liv?"

"I hope so," Olivia admitted softly, attempting to temper her smile. She was certain she looked like a bushing schoolgirl with a new crush.

"Until then."

Something about the quiet doctor pulled him into her. He first noticed her when her little squeal drew his focus momentarily. She was so happy to be there; it was endearing. He had seen her sneak a peek of his features earlier when he and Jackie were talking to the hopeful diagnostic intern. Her blushing cheeks were adorable. He had to know her name and why he couldn’t stop thinking about her, even when there were two stunning female doctors shirtless in front of him.

As she moved to organize her locker, he snuck behind it. His heart beat a little faster as she tossed her hair back behind her shoulders, readjusting her lab coat. He waited patiently for her to notice him; but she didn’t. Not until she shut the locker.

He cringed at himself at his cheesy hello and the awkward start to their conversation. She didn't seem to care for his state of undress. He was taken aback when she had asked him to put a shirt on, but he complied not wanting to let her go yet.

He drifted closer to her without thinking. He hadn't intended to stay like this, trapped in her gaze; however, there was something about the tenderness of her eyes that kept him there. It was comforting, like the warm breeze off the cool ocean on a hot summer day. Home wasn't a concept he had much faith in lately, but if he had to label it with one word, that's what this moment felt like, what she felt like—home. He laughed at himself for even thinking such a thought.

She was just a beautiful woman with kind eyes. What made her so different? He tried to ignore the feeling, but it only grew the longer they stayed there. He didn't want the moment to end, but he knew it had to. He was grateful when she pulled away first, reminding them both they had somewhere they needed to be.

Bryce watched her walk away, hoping for a reason he didn't yet understand, that he would see the pediatric intern again, and sooner rather than later. There was something about her that he needed more of.

Perma tags: @lilyoffandoms ; @raleighcarrera ; @mfackenthal ; @the-soot-sprite ; @virtuallytakenby ; @zeniamiii ; @whimsicallywayward15; ; @xjustin-ethansgirliex ; @caseyvalentineramsey; @trappedinfanfiction; @anotherbeingsworld ; @tyrils-star ; @arnikki-2406 ; @princess-geek ; @katrinegrey ; @lucy-268 ; @schnitzelbutterfingers ; @gardeningourmet

Bryce // Open Heart Tags: @thearianam ; @burnsoslow ; @mvalentine ; @rookie-ramsey ; @missmiimiie;; @jamespotterthefirst ; @adrianadmirer ; @bitchloveskcbaseball ; @nyastarlight ; @doriansapprentice ; @brycesgirl; @bratzlahela; @ofpixelsandscribbles; @superharriet ; @loveellamae

#bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #open heart #fan fiction #bryce x mc #olivia hadley #bryce x olivia

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