#seriously you can expect better than this if actually commissioning | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

parentingtheoryandpractice · 10 months

Text

Violet's birth story

So, fair warning—this is going to be a drawn out, high context version of what ultimately could be a very short birth story. And if you want to really understand the progression of how I have related to labor and birth over the years, I’ll link my previous four birth stories below.

Lydia’s birth story

Zeke’s Birth Story

Maya’s birth story (and reflections on previous births)

Alexander’s birth story

This pregnancy was not an easy one for me. Will and I decided to have our (almost certainly) final baby closer to our next youngest than we have ever spaced before, since we were pretty eager as a family unit to move to a different life phase that was less pregnancy, baby, and toddler focused, in large part because we wanted to have a different type of focus and energy for our older kids while they were still kids. We knew it would be more work in the short term, and I would be leaning on Will a lot for a while, which has proven true.

We also moved while I was pregnant, which I overall very much stand by as a decision, but that was pretty brutal. We tried to time it so that we’d be moving when I was in the second trimester, since that seemed like it would at least be easier than the alternatives, and that almost/mostly worked out, but of course the timeline got pushed back some.

And then the second trimester was also a bit less of a smooth period than I had expected, since I had three episodes of nerve pain that meant I was pretty out of commission for a few days, which was itself inconvenient, but also led to a bunch of uncertainty on my part, since I didn’t know what was going on, or that it was only going to be three times. (All that could be a full-length post of its own, which I may try to write up at some point. As far as I can tell, not only did it all fully resolve, but maybe my body map and body mechanics are actually improved relative to my previous baseline, and I am better at something like Focusing in a body way, thanks to my friend James who explained to me how to do that.)

That said, compared to how things can go, I would still call my pregnancy pretty uncomplicated. I thought I had some blood sugar issues (which could again be its own whole post), but I got a cgm, tried some other blood sugar monitors, paused my Vitamin C since it turns out that can make glucose monitors read a little higher, and my eventual conclusion there was that my first blood sugar monitor was reading too high. I did somewhat limit my carb intake, but after an initial period of lots of tracking decided (in consultation with my midwife and the doctor she works with) to treat it as non-clinical, and I stopped taking measurements.

I also had some iron-deficiency anemia, as I have had every pregnancy, and taking a bunch of iron pills didn’t seem to be working at first, but just as I scheduled some appointments to pursue an iron infusion, my numbers came back up.

And for most of this pregnancy, especially as I was approaching the end, I had a lot of anxiety about birth. With that too, there’s a lot I could say, but I think the high bit is that, while I didn’t anticipate any bad concrete outcomes—I never seriously worried that the baby wouldn’t be born healthy, or that I would be physically at risk—I did have a visceral sense that it wasn’t going to “be okay”, and that the experience would be a bad one for me. And “bad” not just in a fleeting sense, but in a way that would leave my mental structures worse off than they were before.

I never found a concise way to verbalize exactly what I was worried about, but I’m very grateful for all the people (especially Will, Kenzi, Anna, Steph, and James) who listened to me talk at length in repetitive inarticulate ways about what my issue was. And for all the people who wrote up and published their birth stories, since (as has been my habit), I read a ton of them in the weeks leading up to my birth. And at the end of the day, I think the anxiety eventually worked as intended. I processed enough and set the right sort of intentions that it was pretty much gone. I remember a conversation with Anna right around my due date where I expressed that I figured birth would be unpleasant, but in an accepting way, and my desire to keep talking about it was largely gone.

Some of the more legible takeaways I had from all my birth processing were:

-I was pretty willing to let go of some things I had previously been (mostly implicitly) aiming for in service of having an easier birth.

-One such thing was accurately tracking what the experience was like for me. (So… I expect my written recollections to involve mostly the right amount of error bars anyway, but that’s part of the epistemic status of all of this.)

-Another one, somewhat to my surprise, was caring about the timeline. Talking it through, it became clear to me that I had few to no concerns about having a long labor per se, as long as the intense and overwhelming part wasn’t long. (My understanding of Kenzi’s later summary of this, which I liked quite a bit, was to think of early labor as for positioning, not dilating, and that moving to dilating before the position was good often wasn’t desirable.)

-Related to that, one of my conclusions was that during my labor with Xander in particular, after having gained a more explicit model of how my muscles worked during labor over the course of my previous labors, I was expending a lot of wasted effort trying to make things go faster, and my guess was that it didn’t speed things up and probably did lead to it feeling harder. So my plan was to not do that.

-I can’t remember if this was explicit, but I think another constraint I let go of was having other people be able to track much of what was going on for me in realtime during labor, which iirc I’ve written about mattering to me in the past.

-And, somewhat presciently (spoilers), partly since I found a great collection of unassisted birth stories to read, I made my peace with the idea of a delivery that was fast enough that the midwife wouldn’t make it, and talked Will about that some too.

-I also tried to consider which of the painful sensations it would be helpful for me to be especially aware of during labor, and which I could essentially safely tune out. My conclusion there was that anything that was telling me how to move my body seemed important, and that it was probably good to be pretty aware of any potential tissue damage from tearing during the pushing stage, but that microtears that were happening because of muscle exertion, and general muscle fatigue type sensations probably weren’t that actionable or important to pay attention to.

The one concrete and mundane-feeling anxiety that remained was that we would all get sick. We had all been sick multiple times recently, and then Xander had gotten sick shortly before my due date, and right around when I did give birth, Zeke was also just getting sick, which was not a surprise to us given all of our sick friends and his recent exposure.

But I am very grateful to report that (per my questionably effective request to my immune system) I didn’t get either of those sicknesses!

For a while, I had been saying that I didn’t want to make any plans at all for Thanksgiving, since it was two days after my due date, but as that week got closer, my sense was that I wasn’t having a baby anytime soon. And my midwife’s sense was similar. She said the thing she mostly goes off for her brith timing predictions is amniotic fluid levels, and that mine were high for someone who was going to give birth soon. So we decided to host Thanksgiving after all (with a backup plan in place for if I was in labor or if I had a baby by then).

And indeed, my due date came and went, Thanksgiving happened, and I continued to have the impression that I wasn’t very close to having the baby. It wasn’t that I was never experiencing contractions, but I’d been having intermittent regular contractions (which I suppose ought to be called Braxton Hicks, but I don’t tend to experience them as painless…) for months, and the ones I was having didn’t feel different. My energy was pretty good, and I started talking more walks. And I stopped taking my iron pills, since it takes a few weeks to make red blood cells from iron anyway, and I wanted to give my digestive system a break.

And then Saturday night, I felt something happen with my bag of waters. I’m still not totally sure what it was, and I didn’t find the ph strip my midwife had given me in the middle of the night to check whether it was for sure amniotic fluid (all the plausible alternatives are acidic instead of basic), but I think it must have been. That said, it wasn’t a huge amount—I’ve always had my bag of waters break near the end of labor before, and I know it was nowhere near that amount of fluid. Maybe more like a cup’s worth, most of it all at once, and then with a little more leaking out after that throughout the night. My midwife’s guess when I texted her about it was that it was only my forewaters, which wasn’t a term I had known until she mentioned it. In any case, her conclusion was that it didn’t sound like a “frank rupture”.

But I do think it kicked off something, and at that point at least I no longer had the subjective sense that the labor didn’t feel close!

At 9:46am I told my midwife there was “not much happening in terms of contractions since I got up”, and whenever Will got up I told him about the same thing, but he took over with the kids anyway, and I proceeded to spend most of the day resting, relaxing, working on a jigsaw puzzle, hanging out in the bath, and intermittently experiencing contractions that felt “real” enough, but weren’t in any sort of consistent pattern. For example, I’d have a few in a row that were about 7 min apart, and very noticeable but not at all overwhelming, but then I’d change positions and go 20min without feeling much of anything. This went on for most of the day, and I made sure to keep eating and drinking, and resting, though I am pretty sure I didn’t end up sleeping at all.

A little after midnight, I sent a message to our friends that were going to take Xander if we needed that during labor saying “I think Will has already given you an update, but I think I’m in early labor? […] I think there’s some chance things speed up and it’s tonight, but also easily could slow down and then speed up again at some point tomorrow. I think given what I’ve been feeling labor will not totally stop until I’ve given birth though”.

At that point I’d been timing my contractions for about an hour, and they were pretty variable. Most of them around a minute, but some shorter or longer, and a few that were under five minutes together but a bunch that were longer too.

By then, I had been back in the bathtub for a while, after being in and out all day, and I think it was around then that Will set up shop in there with a backjack and joined me. I mostly had my eyes closed, and I remember not noticing that he had come in, in part because I had put Fauré’s Après un Rêve on repeat—which I think was the only time during labor I had music on. I think I picked that song because my midwife had mentioned a few times that the way she thinks of labor is (my words not hers), was kind of like that I had to go to a journey to a different dimension to go get my baby. At some point a few keep earlier I’d made a playlist of some music I’d felt somewhat inspired by (this song was on it), and I’d been enjoying music a lot in the past few weeks, but once I realized Will was there, that seemed both better than music and like I was no longer inclined to have the music on.

And some more about my headspace around then… Until around that point in labor, I hadn’t been very focused on labor between contractions, and had been watching little bits of reality TV on my phone, but after about midnight that changed. I got the idea a couple of labors ago, I think from The Pink Kit, that it was good to use coping strategies even during early labor so that reaching for them became more automatic when I needed them more later on, which I was doing, but this time (for the first time, I think) I basically found it helpful to use my coping techniques between contractions too, starting around midnight (which, having discussed it afterwards with my midwife, is what we decided to call the start of my active labor).

My main coping techniques were deep breathing (in part because I figured oxygenating my muscles was going to make everything work better and hurt less), trying to tune in to exactly how my body wanted to be positioned (leaning on the sort of body type focusing I had practiced during my episodes of nerve pain), and reciting words to myself m. The main words I was relying on almost the whole time, as I have in the past, were The Litany Against Fear, but I’d decided when I was making the music playlist to also include this Irish blessing, which I first heard of because the head of school I attended used to say it to graduating seniors. It had more of a gentle, relaxed vibe—more about things being easier for me instead of me coping with something hard—and I wanted that to be in the mix.

Overall, it became increasingly clear to me as I was laboring that I was aiming for as little sympathetic nervous system activation as possible, and with that goal in mind, a bunch of my cognition seemed pretty counterproductive, in much the way that meditators I have known often talk about it. Basically all of my thought about the future seemed notably tinged with anxiety, in a way where I wanted to let go of them. And the same was true of a bunch of my self-referential thoughts, even about what was happening right then. Same with analysis. I had some pleasant hypnogogic type thoughts about the different patterns from the jigsaw puzzle I had been working on earlier that day, and some other ones about the reality show I had been watching between contractions earlier. I also remembered something Steph had told me about seeing each contraction as a spiritual journey, and I tried to learn into that way of relating to it some, which seemed good too.

I also started doing a pulling down type thing on the side of the bathtub that felt right, and I think I was mostly squatting at that point. The house we moved into recently has a wonderfully massive bathtub, and while I had also borrowed our midwife’s birth tub, in large part because I found the birth tub I used for Xander’s birth really helpful (it was bigger, softer, had lovely handles), I hadn’t asked Will to blow it up. The place to blow it up would have been the bedroom, but Xander was asleep in there. And while we did have friends who would watch him, not only did him sleeping as much as possible seem even better, those friends (and also a bunch of our backup options) were all sick, so I was somewhat invested in him sleeping through the whole birth if possible.

And partly to that end, partly because it felt right overall, unlike with my other births, I was pretty much not vocalizing at all. If that had seemed like it was making labor harder to cope with, I think I would have made whatever noises seemed good to make, but the way I was relating to it was more that noises would have been wasted effort, so it worked out.

The main thing my more logistical brain was still doing at that point was trying to track where labor was enough to figure out when to call the midwife. I had texted her a log of my contractions around midnight, but since she hadn’t responded to that I (correctly) assumed she was asleep and I’d have to call to reach her. So I got out of the bath, had a contraction or two on the birth ball (that I had ordered at the last minute), and called her at 1:25. I told her the contractions seemed to be about five minutes apart at that point. She asked how long they had been like that and I said I wasn’t sure. Then she asked if they had a clear peak, and I said they did. She said didn’t I think she should come since she was an hour away, and I remember saying something about how I wanted to defer to her about that. She told me she was coming, and to tell Will to make up the bed with the waterproof liner and extra sheet and fill the birth tub. I knew I wasn’t going to ask Will to do either of those things just then, but I was in a pretty internal place, it didn’t seem worth saying that out loud.

I got right back in the bath after that, and at that point my conclusions was that there was nothing more to plan, and I could more fully relax into wherever labor wanted me to do. I think Will had mostly been with me pretty continuously for a while, but at some point I think he left to go pack a bag for Xander in case he needed to go to our friends’ house. At a different point, I remember telling him not to go anywhere. I don’t remember whether he was even thinking of going anywhere at that point, but I think I must have had an intuition that things were getting close.

Almost everything from here is increasingly hazy in my memory, but I do remember things getting more intense, though still not exactly overwhelming—more like reaching the edge of it during the peak of the contractions. I also felt some nausea, though not enough that I was close to throwing up, and did have a “hmm could this be transition” type of thought in response to the nausea that I didn’t focus on much.

I was intermittently checking my cervix, as I had been all day, and I felt pretty dilated by then—definitely active labor—but I couldn’t have quantified it. I could feel the head very distinctly though! I’m still not sure when the rest of my waters broke. I think there was one moment where I thought it might have happened, and since that was the only one I registered I assume it did happen then, but since I was in the bath it wasn’t an obvious dramatic thing.

But at some point I do remember feeling a different sort of pain, more like a potential tissue damage type, and one where I was inclined to vocalize. I picked up the washcloth in front of me and bit down on it, which felt right, and around then it became obvious that the baby was moving downwards. I can’t quite remember what if anything I managed to communicate to Will, and I’ll have to find out from him exactly when he realized what about what was going on, but from there things happened very quickly.

I couldn’t have said how long between that first pushing sensation and when I could clearly tell that the head was coming out, but it wasn’t long. I did try to pause a little with the head somewhat out, and not rush that part, so as to prevent tearing, but I think the pause was maybe on the order of seconds.

And by then I’m pretty sure the midwife was on speakerphone. I think what happened was that she had called on her own for an update, but maybe Will had called her? Maybe even I had asked him to call, though I don’t remember doing that, and I don’t think I did. In any case, having her there on speaker was exactly what I wanted, so I was very happy about that part, and also in a quite nonverbal place. I remember her asking some question about what was going on with the head, and me thinking “well, right now it’s not out, but I can distinctly feel her ear”, but it was totally beyond me to actually say that part out loud. I did have in mind what she had reminded me, which was to make sure the baby’s head stayed under water until she was all the way out, since once the baby is exposed to the air and likely starts breathing, at that point it’s not safe for her head to go under the water again.

Once her head was fully out, I may or may not have said anything, but I was very much remembering Xander’s birth, where it seemed to take forever to then push the rest of his body out. (It didn’t actually take long at all with him—but I do think I didn’t do it until I waited at minute or two until the next contraction.) This was faster though—basically once her head was out there was a brief pause, and then I kept pushing and her body was too, which was a massive relief. A massive relief, but then I also wanted to make sure she was breathing as she was supposed to. She seemed to me like she was breathing right away, but also like she was pretty much asleep, so I didn’t feel totally sure. I did some amount of rubbing her, blowing on her face, and talking to the midwife. Before too long I remember her producing at least one cry, and me asking if that meant she was for sure breathing now. I remember our midwife saying that if her muscle tone was good, that was what I should pay attention to. And it did seem like her muscles were working fine, and I remember noticing her hands opening and closing, but also in general newborns are so floppy at first!

In any case, I would say that I pretty quickly felt settled about her breathing, in part because the midwife didn’t seem concerned at all based on what we were saying. And the part after that is also somewhat of a blur, though I think I was already in a quite different and clearer headspace than I had been during labor, and was communicating with Will in a more straightforward way. He was getting me towels, and I was mostly keeping Violet out of the water so she didn’t get cold, but I wasn’t quite ready to move out of the bath yet. I also didn’t want to drain the water yet, since I figured it might be good to let the midwife’s look and see how much blood I had lost. I think I had Will take a picture of that. (I could tell by looking myself that it wasn’t much though, so I didn’t feel worried about postpartum hemorrhage.) Violet also pooped some meconium around then, but it wasn’t too messy—it was mostly on the towel I think. Though later there was a bunch of it on the floor of the bath, and I’m not sure if that was the same poop, or whether it came in stages.

I had been trying to get Violet to latch ever since she came out, but it took a while for her to do that. She was pretty sleepy! But at some point before the midwives arrived, she did end up latching, which seemed to me like a good sign that I could probably get the placenta out soon.

I also asked Will to bring me the large metal bowl we had set aside for the placenta, since I felt some urgency about getting it out. And I think it was around then that Will left to go let the dogs out and the midwives in. I think since he had already taken the picture, I did drain the tub a bunch, and once there wasn’t much water left I decided to try pushing the placenta out. I used some gentle traction on the cord, since in the past I had had midwives tell me it was okay to do that, and tried seeing if i could push on purpose, and I felt it move! That part was definitely easier and more straightforward than I had remembered it being with my past two labors, which was neat. But then it got a little stuck once it seemed like it was out, and I was pretty sure that was just the bag of waters, but not sure enough to want to pull on it. Once the midwives came, a few minutes later, they confirmed that the placenta looked complete, that was just the bag of waters, and it was totally safe to pull the rest of it out, which I did.

And that was the birth! We put the time down as 2:20, and the midwives arrived around 20 minutes after that, shortly after I had pushed my placenta out too. We took around another two hours to do a bunch of post birth stuff, like getting the baby’s blood type from the placenta (negative, so I didn’t do a rhogam shot), checking me for tears (just a very small one that didn’t require stitches), weighing and measuring the baby (I thought she looked like she was about eight and a half pounds, and she came it at 8 lbs 6oz after she had pooped, and 20inches, which the midwife said was maybe a bit of an underestimate), and assorted other logistics, like me getting out of the bath, putting on a postpartum pad and some clothes, me taking some ibuprofen per my plan so the afterpains wouldn’t hurt so much, me peeing, oiling up the baby before putting a diaper on her so the next meconium poop wouldn’t get stuck on her as much, etc. The midwives also went though a chart with me that shows typical development and gestational age, and while my placenta was a little calcified, as is typical for an almost 41 week baby, some of Violet’s markers were closer to 39 weeks. So maybe that’s why she took her time coming out.

(As an aside, given Violet’s actual stats, which seemed fine and similar to all my other babies, I feel good in hindsight about the way I related to my blood sugars during late pregnancy. Her head was also a little bigger than her chest circumference, so that wasn't an issue either.)

Once the midwives left, we got Lydia and Zeke to meet the baby, Will managed to take Xander into his office to sleep with him there, and I had the bed for me and Violet. I didn’t sleep much that night, but I was very happy :-).

Will and I are overall almost certain Violet will be our last baby, and I feel extremely grateful to have gone out on such a positive note with birth—this one was my clear favorite, though I also remember Maya’s birth quite fondly, and I believe I learned things and took away important insights from each of my births. Overall, before I had this last birth I would have said, as a summary, that overall I didn’t really like birth, and now I don’t think I can say that anymore. It’s probably worth anyone reading this taking that with a grain of salt, since I did explicitly let go of my desire to remember things in a precise way, but I think it captures something very real and quite important to me anyway.

And aside from being a very cool experience, I like to think that this time I learned something that I can take with me about anxiety. Both from how helpful I think my pre-birth anxiety ultimately was in guiding my processing in productive ways, and from how helpful it was to relax and fully let go of even subtly anxious thoughts during labor itself.

I used to be sort of baffled by some of the birth stories I would read or hear from people I knew by how easy they seemed, even though Maya’s birth had some aspects in common with them, but now that I had this last experience, I no longer do, and the range of labor experiences that seem intuitively plausible to me has expanded. I also remember after my first birth talking to the instructor of the birth class Will and I had taken somewhat incredulously about this video she had shown us of a Russian woman giving birth in a bathtub very peacefully, since it seemed so different not just from my experience, but from the experiences of pretty much everyone in the class. And the instructor had said, somewhat apologetically, “well, it was probably her fifth baby”. So now maybe I’ve come full circle by having a very peaceful labor with my fifth baby too.

A cool thing about this birth that feels like a bonus to me is that because I think I succeeded at my plan to not expend a lot of wasted effort, partly due to my intentions, but maybe even more because it was my fifth time, and my body had a more targeted sense of which muscles were involved and not involved, my body felt way less sore than it ever had before postpartum. I’m writing this a little less than a week later, and while it is still my model that rest and recovery is important, I feel remarkably good physically.

I was lamenting to a friend how it seemed sort of wasteful that I finally figured out how to do this birth thing just as I was never going to do it again, and she said that wasn’t this sort of the tragedy of life—we accumulate all this knowledge that’s ultimately pretty hard to transfer, and it’s very cool but also feels a bit like a waste.

If I have one regret from this birth, it’s that I don’t have any video footage of it. I would love to have more of a concrete record, and I really wish I could show Violet a video of her birth one day, but at least I’ve written this up while it was pretty fresh in my mind.

And if you got all the way here, thanks for reading a very long and drawn out story of a short birth! I’m very grateful for how it all played out.

4 notes · View notes

daveinediting · 1 year

Photo

Clients come in all kinds of temperaments and abilities. I have friends who literally pull out their hair when telling stories about corporate clients but in the next breath will tell you stories in which other such clients were the best.

So yeah. Clients come in all kinds of temperaments and abilities. Especially any project that's a group project on the client's end which can turn into an occasion for pulling out your hair should you get notes from each member of the group rather than all comments filtered through the leader of the group or our liaison with that group. Because if the latter doesnt happen, it falls to the producer on the production side or the lead of the production company to referee often conflicting notes and to create a singular logic for the piece that doesn't otherwise exist. Clients come in all kinds of temperaments and abilities.

One of the complaints, ummmmm observations I run across from friends who work primarily with corporate clients is that, on occasion, you work for a client who commissioned the work yet seems unmotivated to get it done. Phone calls, unreturned. Email requests, seemingly ghosted. Things you need to get done or information you need to get things done isn’t happening because no one on the client side is prioritizing the work they commissioned. And yet...

They set a deadline.

Clients come in all kinds of temperaments and abilities.

Recently, I worked with a producer who had a client in a group project circumstance. The work we produced would be reviewed by several individuals filtered through a liaison. At the time I joined the project, the producer had already observed the client to take more time than usual responding to requests for information and even review. Fortunately there was no deadline.

So, with that observation baked into our understanding of the client, we simply trusted that they’d appear eventually. And we didn't sweat not hearing from them... even when we completed rough cuts and it was time for their feedback.

Clients come in all kinds of temperaments and abilities.

It is important either in an objective sense or simply for our mental health as professionals to keep our expectations aligned with reality as much as we possibly can. And in the case of our client who simply needed time... we accepted that need and moved on to other things.

And while we were doing that...

The client took a look at our work. They sent us notes with a singular logic and consistent aesthetic. They did that as a group. Their notes were surgical and never contradictory. Their notes made the finished project better. Made it tighter. Made it an effective effort of communication when that was not necessarily true of the rough cuts.

Clients.

Come in all kinds of temperaments and abilities.

This one was unique, however. Group projects, after all, are particularly challenging and most of us don't carry fond memories from the occasions on which we did work on group projects.

Seemingly, this group needed to actually see a rough rough cut. Something much longer than usual than the usual rough cut with sections that actual dangle. With conclusions that are not.

Conclusions.

And once seeing such a cut of what they themselves asked for... it was seemingly obvious to them what to do next.

As I said... their notes were surgical with a singular logic and consistent aesthetic. The cut based on these notes is flyin'.

Clients come in all kinds of temperaments and abilities.

Seriously. They do.

However.

Once we close the book on this project, the producer is planning on asking her client contact the one question to which we both absolutely want to know the answer.

How... as a group... were you able to do this?

It's brilliant, is all I'm saying. And maybe...

Just maybe...

There's wisdom in their answer that we can pass along to future clients who struggle, as most do, with their own internal group processes.

Because clients.

Come in all kinds of temperaments and abilities.

🙂

#clients #group projects #feedback #temperament #ability #adjusting to clients #patience #right expectations #professionals #people #working together

3 notes · View notes

chrismerle · 7 months

Text

Commission for a friend, @mercarimari, of two of our OCs being fuckin' dorks at each other. Commission info is here. ('Hey Elsa, what's this Jumperverse: Side B stuff?' Jumperverse is a story verse I've been tooling around with since 2012. I haven't posted any of it here, though I will eventually. Side B is an AU with a friend of mine that involves considerably more dimension hopping than the baseline Jumperverse, which already involves a fair amount of dimension hopping.)

Eliza keeps peeking at him. She thinks she’s being subtle, but she really isn’t. Every few moments, there she is, peering around the side of her phone at him like she’s waiting for him to sprout a second head so she can snap a picture of it. She’s barely even remembered her food is in front of her.

Honestly, at this point he’s not even sure what she’s doing with her phone. Nothing can be quite so engrossing, considering how long it’s been in front of her—

Actually, returning to the matter of her snapping photos of his metaphorical second head, a thought has occurred to him.

Mikhail turns his attention away from his breakfast and his book for a moment, picking his phone up off of the table as he does. Luckily, his poker face is much better than hers, sometimes. The sunglasses help. He props one elbow on the table and leans his chin in his hand, affecting the disinterest of scrolling as he opens Instagram.

Ah.

That certainly explains it.

There is a picture of him. Make that two, three, four … Mikhail keeps scrolling, until he reaches her final picture from the evening before. There are twenty-two—her feed updates.There are twenty-three pictures of him on her Instagram feed, just from this morning. None of them are particularly interesting. In all of them, he is just looking at his food, or his book. Or his phone, in the most recent one.

He picks a photo from the middle of the influx and finds where the fun is. There he is, yawning behind one hand, holding his book flat with the other hand, and Eliza has cheerfully captioned it, ‘You’d think eventually he would notice.’

He checks the next few, and the comments get increasingly deranged. Someone has suggested she throw something at him to snap him out of it. Interspersed, of course, with the expected number of people wondering what’s going on, and the usual people expressing disbelief that he’s wearing sunglasses at the breakfast table. That’s always a great way to find Eliza’s newest followers; they all get used to it eventually.

Honestly, he’s pretty sure Eliza has forgotten that he has his own Instagram account, but that’s not too surprising. Half the time he forgets he has an Instagram account. That does mean, however, that he can fight back pretty easily, especially considering most of his followers found him through her.

He opens the camera app, makes sure the volume is muted, makes sure the flash is off, and snaps a photo. It’s cute in a silly sort of way, with her half hunched in on herself and partially hidden behind her phone. Certainly not the most flattering photo of her he’s ever taken, but he’s basically guaranteed to take worse in the future, so he figures it can be forgiven for the time being.

He uploads it with the simple caption, ‘Isn’t it cute how she thinks she’s subtle?’

Casually, he sets the phone back down and picks his book back up. He hears her phone ping as it notifies her that he’s posted for the first time in two weeks. She eyes him suspiciously just past the edge of her phone.

He knows when she sees the post when she very carefully slams her phone down on the table and demands, “Seriously, Mickey?”

“You started it,” he points out, flipping to the next page of his book.

“You could have said something! Half the fun was you not noticing!”

Mikhail peers at her over the top of his sunglasses, looking faintly unimpressed. Eliza pouts back at him steadfastly.

“Lizzie, half the time you can’t even tell where I’m looking,” he reminds her. “I don’t know why you thought you could gauge that before you’ve even finished breakfast.”

They stare at each other for a few seconds. Mikhail laughs when Eliza huffs and throw her napkin across the table at him, knowing it’s as close to conceding the argument as she’s ever going to get.

#writing #writeblr #writblr #wip: Jumperverse: Side B #mercarimari

1 note · View note

intheticklecloset · 2 years

Text

Just Ask (My Hero Academia)

This fic was commissioned by @queerishima18. Thank you!

Primary Universe

Summary: Kirishima is in a bad lee mood, so he fights off his nerves and asks Bakugou to tickle him. Luckily, Bakugou is more than happy to oblige.

A/N: THIS IS MY 100TH MHA FIC WHO EVEN AM I LOL

No but seriously, thank you to queerishima18 for commissioning this cute fic idea, and THANK YOU to all of you who have supported me over the years to make this crazy milestone possible! 100 MHA FICS! That's insane!! Please enjoy! <3

Word Count: 1,756

Warning: Light, consensual bondage

~~~

He was going to do it. Kirishima was going to get up, go to Bakugou’s room, and ask him to tickle him. He really was! He was…as soon as he could find the courage to get his butt out of his desk chair.

He stared at the closed door of his own room, leg bouncing nervously. Bakugou had told him he’d do it anytime he asked, and Kiri believed him. But that was the embarrassing part – actually asking. Like, straightforwardly asking to be turned into a puddle of laughter. But he wanted it so bad, and he knew his explosive friend would keep his promise. He also knew Bakugou preferred being asked rather than provoked, if his competition with Deku a while back had proven anything. (He’d feel bad for Midoriya if his friend hadn’t loved it so much.)

Kirishima got to his feet, but that’s as far as he managed. He hesitated again, pulled out his phone, considered sending a text instead. It would be easier that way, right? If Bakugou wasn’t interested, being rejected in a message instead of in person would suck less, wouldn’t it?

He tapped out a message, erased it. Tried again, erased it again. Then he shoved his phone in his pocket and strode to the door. Asking over text wasn’t manly. He could do it in person. It was just tickling! And if all else failed, he could always ask Todoroki.

It wouldn’t be quite the same, but still.

Two minutes later he was standing in front of Bakugou’s door, hesitating again. I can do this, he told himself firmly. If he can come to all of us and ask for it, I can go to him and ask. He told me I could. Just do it!

He knocked. He thought about running away.

He didn’t.

Bakugou yanked open the door, looking irritated, but his usual scowl softened when he saw the redhead. “What do you want, spiky hair?”

Kirishima found himself hesitating a third time.

The blonde seemed to sense something was up. He stepped back and gestured for Kiri to come in, which he did, albeit slowly. Once the door was closed again, Bakugou asked in a gentler voice, “What’s up? You look nervous.”

“I am,” Kiri admitted, leaning against the wall and letting out a huge sigh. He glanced over, saw his best friend’s expectant stare, and covered his eyes with one hand. “I came to ask you to tickle me but if you’re busy or not in the mood I totally get it, it can just be whenever, I don’t want to impose—”

Bakugou grabbed his ribs and squeezed once, effectively silencing him and making him shoot his arms down instinctively, making actual eye contact this time. Kiri’s eyes widened. His friend was wearing a wicked smirk that immediately made him both terrified and elated.

“You want me to tickle you?” Bakugou asked in a low, teasing voice. Kiri swallowed. “Well? I asked you a question, Eijiro.”

Oh, crap. First names? He was screwed already.

“I…y-yeah, I…I want you to tickle me,” he stammered.

“Then you’d better get your butt to the bed before I take you down right here against this wall.”

What the heck?! Kiri pushed past him and scurried to the bed, if nothing else just to get away from that intense gaze for a few seconds. He sat down and looked back at the blonde, who stopped halfway in following him, seeming to consider something.

“What…what are you doing?” Kirishima asked.

Bakugou glanced at his closet, then back at him. “How bad do you want me to tickle you? Like…do you want to be able to fight me, or would you rather be totally out of control?”

“Um…” Kiri hesitated yet again. He shifted slightly. “I mean…I guess it doesn’t matter? Why?”

Silently, Bakugou opened his closet and rifled in his bottom drawer for something. He paused before looking over at his friend and holding up a pair of shiny, silver handcuffs.

Kiri’s eyes widened. “Bakugou?”

“It’s not what you think, all right?” the blonde snapped, looking both frustrated and flustered at once. “I do this to Deku when he’s got it bad sometimes, too, and I thought it was easier than using neckties all the time. But if you don’t want—”

“I do,” Kirishima said quickly, then followed it up with, “Wait, you tie Midoriya up when you tickle him?”

“Only when he wants me to totally wreck him, like you do right now.” Bakugou got to his feet. “Are you sure? Once you’re in these you’re at my mercy until you use the safe word. And I’m not feeling particularly merciful today.”

Kiri shuddered, an excitement he hadn’t known was possible settling over him. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Seeming more at ease and in his element now, Bakugou shot him another evil smile. “Then lay down and put your arms up so I can get those pesky hands out of my way.”

Moments later the cool metal of the cuffs were around each of his wrists, and Kiri gave an experimental tug at them, a thrill coursing through him when he realized he really wasn’t going anywhere, and now Bakugou was straddling his waist, cracking his knuckles.

“Use the safe word when you want me to stop for real, okay?” the blonde said seriously, beginning to drag his nails along his friend’s ribs.

Kiri squeaked and bit his lip to contain his smile. “I will.”

“Good.”

The redhead squealed with giggles a second later, squirming uselessly beneath the light tickles his friend was giving him as a warm-up. He’d had his arms pinned above him before, but not bound like they were now. This was so much different. Here it was just the two of them, but he was even more helpless to stop what was about to happen than usual. It was terrifying, but he couldn’t wait to really get going with this session. He’d wanted this so bad. He was craving it even more now that it had started.

“Getting excited?” Bakugou teased, as if sensing his shift in mood. He pushed Kiri’s shirt up just enough to get better access to his ribs and slowly began to increase his tickling pressure. “We’ll see how long that lasts when I have you begging me to stop.”

“I d-dohohohohon’t beheheheg easily,” Kiri reminded him, daring to be bold even in this position. “You’ll hahahahahahave to wohohohork for it.”

“I think you’re forgetting what it’s like to be the sole recipient of my tickle torture.”

“AIIEEE!! AHAHAHAHAHAHA WAIT!! OKAY, OKAHAHAHAHAY, NOT SO FAHAHAHAST!! WAIT!! BAHAHAHAHAHAHAKUGOU!!”

“What? You said you wanted me to tickle you, and you even let me tie you up. You must be in a really bad mood, huh?” Bakugou teased easily, enjoying the panicked laughter he was getting now that he was digging into his friend’s ribs with everything he had. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~”

“GOD NOHOHOHOHO DON’T DOHOHOHOHO THAT!! BAKUGOU!!”

“Let’s see…” The blonde gradually slowed his tickling to a lighter pace, allowing his friend a moment to breathe. “You know what? I’m going to work my way up.” Bakugou scooted himself back so he was straddling Kiri’s ankles instead, reaching behind him to scratch at his bare soles with a smug smile on his lips.

“Ah! Nohohohohoho!” Kiri burst into giggles again, tugging at his restraints. Somehow it made it tickle even worse, not being able to roll around or kick or anything at all. “Ehehehehehehehehehe!”

“I’m going to start here,” Bakugou told him matter-of-factly, wiggling his fingers into the spaces between the redhead’s toes, making him squeal. “And I’m going to sloooowly work my way up to your knees and thighs.” A quick scratching over his arches. “Then I’ll tickle your hips, and your sides, and your stomach. Your pudge is looking extra ticklish today.”

Kiri whined, wishing for all the world that he could cover up his blushing face, giggling crazily all the while from the light, lazy tickling on his feet. “Dohohohon’t tahahahalk about my puhuhudge!”

“I’ll talk about whatever I dang well please,” Bakugou growled, digging into his toes again, drawing yet another screech and subsequent laughter from his friend. “And you’ll do nothing to stop me because you can’t. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Bakugou was being extra mean with his teasing today, it seemed. Kirishima had no idea why or where it had come from, but he wasn’t complaining. Not at all. In fact, it only made him more anxious to get moving. Get laughing. Screaming for mercy as he always ended up doing when his best friend was the one doing the tickling.

“Then I’m going to go up to your armpits and your neck, and that ridiculously sensitive collarbone of yours.”

“Shuhuhuhut up! I cahahahahan’t help – AIEEE!!”

Bakugou’s gaze had darkened, but his smirk told Kiri he was enjoying this just as much as he was. “Tell me to shut up again and see what happens.”

Kiri kept his mouth shut, save for the increasingly hysterical giggles.

“Then, just when you think you can’t handle any more, I’m going to tickle your ribs again. One by one, veeeery slowly, until you’re begging so hard you don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore.”

“Plehehehehease, Bakugou!”

“Yes, just like that.”

“Plehehehease, just dohohohoho it! Tihihihihickle me like you mehehehehean it, already!”

Bakugou quirked a brow and lunged for his ribs without warning, making Kiri scream in surprise and hysterics when his most ticklish spot was assaulted with his atomic friend’s unique brand of tickle torture. “You know what? You’re making me change my mind about how I want to take you down. That’s rude, considering you’re the one who came to me, asking me to take away all your control~”

“AHAHAHAHAHA I’M SOHOHOHOHOHORRY!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!! NOT THERE!! NOT YEHEHEHEHEHET!!”

Bakugou chuckled, grinned, settled himself back in for a very rib-focused session, enjoying the way Kiri’s face lit up with terror and delight at the same time, laughter filling the room, making him feel lighter just by being present for it. “Hmm…I think I’ll stay here for a little while after all, since you want it so bad. Does that sound good to you?”

Kirishima was already laughing so hard he couldn’t reply, but he wouldn’t have denied it if he could. He was so, so glad he’d found the courage to ask for it this time.

His best friend chuckled again, making him feel twice as sensitive, making him laugh even louder.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

#fanfiction #tickle fic #boku no hero #my hero academia #bnha #mha #eijirou #kirishima #katsuki #bakugou #friends #playful #teasing #anticipation #tickling #ticklish #tickle

126 notes · View notes

thewickwheat · 2 years

Photo

Original link didn't work for mobile so I’m making an actual post to link to which will hopefully work better! Sorry about the issues!

Illustration commissions are open indefinitely for the time being. Illustration commissions can be anything from a detailed scene to something more graphic like a portrait with several decorative elements. I have included a showcase of some of my illustrative work, so please give it a look over to get an idea of my strengths. I do want emphasize that my focus tends to be on period, fantasy and/or decorative. Modern day, futuristic and sci-fi are not my strong suits, so if you are interested in a commission with that sort of theme I will still give your details a look over to see if they are something I’m confident in taking on, but please understand if I refuse due to those details.

Information Below the cut

Price:

Illustration prices are determined on a case to case basis. Expect to being paying, at the very least, around 400USD. Depending on the amount of characters, background complexity, interactions etc. it could easily end up $1000+

Commissions Rules PLEASE READ

1)Email me at [email protected] (my official commission/contact email) and give a full description of what you want to commission. Please be ready with lots of reference; i.e. in-game screenshots, your own artwork, actors that you use as a faceclaim, environment inspiration, clothing and prop inspiration or reference or types of animals that will be helpful for properly portraying the elements of the illustration. NOTE: If you have something very specific in mind (especially with a scene style illustration, i.e. your D&D party camping for the night) a small doodle is very helpful. Seriously, it could be an incredibly crude sketch but as long as it communicates what’s in your head, even on a simple level, it can be INCREDIBLY helpful!

2) Payment is upfront. Once we have determined the price of your commission please send the money to the paypal address I give you as soon as you are able (if you need extra time for payment, let me know). I will not start on your commission until I have received payment. You can request for half upfront and half once I’ve finished the rough sketch if you like. If I am unable to complete your commission for whatever reason, I will refund you in full.

3) Your commission has been accepted and paid for! The turn around time extreme estimate is 6 months. Its very likely it will not take that long but given current circumstances my work schedules have been shaken up more than a few times and I want to give a honest, reasonable estimate that considers possible pandemic problems. If you need your commission before a specific date, let me know and we can discuss if its something I can get to you on time.

4) Substantial revisions (not quick/simple edits) will cost extra, depending on complexity.

Other Important Info

-I will not draw explicit sexual or violent content, casual nudity is fine. If you’re not sure if your idea is considered explicit or not, please message me and we can discuss.

-I also will decline any commissions I personally feel uncomfortable with.

-I will not reserve spots. If the queue is full you have to wait until a slot opens, I will not reserve one for you.

Character Commissions are only available in small batches at a time, I will make an indivudual post when they are open for submissions

#commissions #my art

101 notes · View notes

bakuthedeku · 4 years

Text

their everyday game

Read on AO3

Words: 3,000

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Things Midoriya Izuku is: A student, a sugar baby, a boyfriend, a brat.

Things Midoriya Izuku is not: Patient.

Or: Izuku wants attention from Kacchan and he is going to get it.

A commissioned fic for @insinirate !

Clack clack clack. The room is silent but for the steady breaths of its occupants and the rhythmic beat of fingers on plastic. Clear, wall-to-ceiling windows wash the sun’s gentle light into the room, and reveal a picturesque view of the sparkling city, looking like something straight out of a magazine.

Izuku glares at the extravagant view. He bets Kacchan is writing another one of those stupid reports of his.

Buzz. The clacking halts and Kacchan glances at his work phone for but a moment before the typing resumes.

Izuku takes a deep breath. Holds it. Puffs out his cheeks.

He slumps over in his seat and sighs obnoxiously.

God, he’s so damn bored.

Kacchan said he had to get one more hour of work done, and then he’d take a break. That had been almost three hours ago. ‘One hour’ had turned into two when Izuku left Kacchan to get ready for their lunch date and had foolishly gone straight to the cafe instead of meeting up with Kacchan at the office first. He’d waited all of ten minutes at their usual table before calling a company car and returning to find Kacchan still working in his office.

If not for Kacchan’s genuine surprise at the time and his gruff, yet sweet apologies, he would be a dead man already.

But Izuku still isn’t satisfied. Kacchan needs a break, and Izuku needs attention, stat. There’s only one solution: Izuku’s gonna annoy the shit out of Kacchan. So Izuku sucks in another breath and pouts at the ceiling. “Kacchaaaaan!”

Kacchan sighs, but he doesn’t respond. The silence in the room grows thick with expectation; Izuku’s long-perfect attention-seeking tone signals the start of the game they play every day.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the clack of keys and occasional buzz from Kacchan’s work phone. Izuku wriggles against his plush seat, making the leather squeak obnoxiously, and clears his throat daintily, earning himself a glance. “Kacchan, I’m hungry…” Izuku peaks at Kacchan from beneath fluttering eyelashes.

Kacchan shifts his eyes back to his computer and types another line, pointedly loud against the room’s still silence.

When they play this game, whoever breaks first (or whoever wants whatever they’re after more) will relent and go to the other, so this can go one of two ways; Izuku will pull himself from his lounging position to drape himself over Kacchan, or Kacchan will pull himself from his work and lavish Izuku with the attention he deserves.

Today, Izuku takes it upon himself to move things forward—Kacchan is in one of those moods where it could take hours to break him down, and Izuku needs results now.

So with an impatient, gusty sigh pulled deep from his lungs, Izuku heaves himself up and slinks over to Kacchan’s grand desk, stalking up from behind him. When Kacchan makes the mistake of glancing at Izuku from the corner of his eye, Izuku pounces.

Izuku wrenches Kacchan’s chair around and jumps into his lap, laying himself over Kacchan as well as the plush arms of his chair. Kacchan grunts out a quiet oof at the sudden weight but wraps an arm around his waist nonetheless.

“I’m working, Deku,” Kacchan says dryly.

“Actually, Kacchan, I think you’ll find that you’re cuddling me and giving me attention right now, and I can’t imagine why you’d want to stop.”

Kacchan exhales quietly and wrestles down the corners of his lips—it’s not quite a smile, but it’s a good enough start for Izuku. “I have a lot to do, so as much as I’d love to keep giving you all the attention you desire, I really do have to get back to work.”

Izuku wraps an arm around Kacchan’s neck and pretends to think, then shakes his head solemnly. “Unfortunately, it’s a no from me. I’m hungry and I want lunch.”

“Then go get lunch.”

Izuku gives Kacchan a look for being deliberately obtuse.

“I’ll order in for you, then,” Kacchan offers.

Izuku huffs and pushes himself away from his comfortable spot against Kacchan’s broad chest. “Not good enough, Kacchan! We organised a lunch date, so I am getting a lunch date. Now.” Izuku sticks out his chin and dares Kacchan to say no.

Eyes lock. Izuku stares with determination, burying his will into impenetrable crystal red and steadfastly ignoring their alluring pull. Kacchan makes an aborted noise in the back of his throat, as if he was about to say something stupid but thought better of it, and finally sighs.

“Half an hour.”

Izuku smiles sweetly. “Two. You’re late, so you’ve accrued interest.”

Kacchan decides to focus on their negotiations over Izuku’s mockingly business-like tone: “Forty-five is the best you’re going to get from me.”

“An hour, not including travel time, or I’ll get our contract from your room and tear it up myself.” Izuku juts out a petulant lip. He’d never do it, but it gets his point across—Izuku isn’t budging on this.

Kacchan stares hard for a moment, then sags and rests his head in the crook of Izuku’s neck. “You’re such an annoying little shit,” he murmurs, warm against Izuku’s skin.

Izuku hides his smile in Kacchan’s hair and holds him tight. Another victory secured.

/-/

The cafe is a relaxing, familiar space for Izuku. He’s been a regular since before his arrangement with Kacchan began, and when it breached the confines of Kacchan’s highrise office, it was only natural Izuku would drag Kacchan to his favourite little spot.

After enough of their regular visits, the staff have stopped staring at Kacchan and his crisp suits and shiny Rolex watches, and they interact more or less normally with the pair when they stop by.

They place their orders, as usual, and Kacchan pays, as usual, before they settle in their favourite corner, waiting for drinks and food.

Izuku relaxes into his plush chair. He breathes in happiness, the scent of sugar and coffee and Kacchan’s handsome cologne, and breathes out his worries. He’s already plotting ways to extend the hour he was so graciously granted.

On the table before him is a generous slice of cake, which is ‘not a meal,’ according to Kacchan, but Izuku wanted it and he doesn’t care what Kacchan has to say about it. Kacchan is still waiting on his own food; some kind of salmon dish, which is about the fanciest thing he might be able to get his hands on at a casual place like this.

Before Kacchan can grouse at Izuku further, Izuku digs into his treat with no regard for manners, or as Kacchan calls them, “basic fucking social etiquette.” Whenever Kacchan attempts to spout this particular kind of bullshit, Izuku rather enjoys pointing out the hypocrisy of Kacchan of all people criticising other people’s social graces.

Izuku glances at Kacchan and licks his lips before he fills his mouth with fluffy, sugary goodness, making eye-contact with him as he lets out an exaggerated moan. “So good,” Izuku takes care to lick his lips and smiles, warm and sweet like molten honey.

Kacchan rolls his eyes, but he swallows like his mouth is dry. “You’re a damn menace, you little brat,” he says hoarsely, despite the way his eyes have been stuck on Izuku’s lips since he licked them.

“Hey!” Izuku kicks out with all the gentleness of a fussy toddler, landing a solid kick on Kacchan’s shin. “Don’t be mean. You would’ve missed our lunch date altogether if I hadn’t dragged you here.” Izuku tilts his head and gives an Oscar-worthy kicked-puppy pout.

“Deku…” Kacchan obviously misses the point of his pouting by a mile, because now he just looks sad, and that is not what Izuku was going for! “I’m sorry I forgot, baby. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, it’s just...”

“You’re busy,” Izuku finishes for him, and leans across the table to (affectionately) swat his dumb boyfriend’s head. “I know. I’m not mad, but I do want your attention right now, so cut out the sadness and shower me with compliments like you’re supposed to.”

This earns a snort of laughter from Kacchan, who finally catches on and plays along with their usual game. His whole face brightens with his smile. “Ah yes, of course, dear. How could I spend even a second not overwhelming you with compliments?”

Izuku nods seriously. “Exactly. I’m just so shocked. You should know better than to neglect me by now,” Izuku winks, “Daddy.”

Kacchan makes a point of rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling broadly now, all teeth and crinkled eyes. “Alright, you’ve made your point, asshole. Eat your stupid cake already.”

/-/

Once they’ve eaten, and the redundant alarm Kacchan had set goes off, they return to the car. It’s time for Izuku to execute his plan.

Before Kacchan can put his belt on like the square he is, Izuku swings a leg over his lap and wraps himself around his boyfriend. Kacchan raises a questioning eyebrow before Izuku makes his demand: “Take me shopping.”

Kacchan smacks his head back against the headrest dramatically. “You have my card. I’ll have the driver drop you off wherever you want to go, okay?”

“I said take me shopping, not send me. You have to be there or there’s no use! Kacchan needs to come with me.”

Kacchan looks sad, then, and the stupid man has apparently learnt a thing or two from Izuku, because he’s got the bestest, heart-wrenchingest puppy-dog eyes without even trying. Resting his forehead against Izuku’s, Kacchan sighs softly against his lips. “You know I spend as much time as I can with you, baby. I can only ignore my work for so long, for you.”

Izuku aches, sudden and raw. “Oh, Kacchan… I know you’re busy, you work so hard! Kacchan really is amazing. But sometimes I want to be selfish and snatch up more of your time. You put too much pressure on yourself at work. You have so many employees so you don’t have to run yourself in the ground.”

“There are things my employees can’t do-”

“Like stopping you from working yourself to death? Right, that’s my job.” Izuku wiggles in Kacchan’s lap and captures his lips in a whisper-soft kiss. “So let me take care of you.” Izuku flutters his eyelashes and pulls his trump card. “Please, Daddy?” he asks, words sugar-sweet on his lips.

Cheeks glowing a suspicious strawberry red, Kacchan huffs and grabs Izuku by the waist, easily picking him up off his lap and depositing him on the seat next to him. He waits patiently for Kacchan to break, all the while butterflies dance in Izuku’s belly at his Daddy’s casual display of strength.

“The hell do you need so badly anyway?”

Truthfully, Izuku has no idea what he would wish to buy. Spoiled as he is, there are few things he’s wanted through life that he doesn’t now own, thanks to Kacchan. “I saw this gorgeous lingerie set and I just have to try it on before I buy it. And I need you there to tell me how good it looks,” Izuku states matter-of-factly.

Kacchan clears his throat and pinches Izuku’s cheek. “Fine. Let’s go look at this lingerie, then, baby.”

/-/

Izuku drags Kacchan out of the car by his hand and refuses to let go even after they’ve made it inside the shopping center.

“Come on, come on, I wanna see what this store has!” With Kacchan in tow, Izuku makes a beeline for his favourite lingerie store.

Izuku chatters away as he makes his way up and down the store, fluttering about pretty displays and shiny, luxurious lingerie sets hung up on the walls. He semi-consciously gives Kacchan a consistent stream of observations, rhetorical questions and mumbled postulations about what Kacchan might like best. He picks out half a dozen sets in just a few minutes, handing each one over to Kacchan for him to judge and/or hold like a handsome sentient display rack.

Soon enough, Kacchan flags down someone from the store to do the grunt work for him as he follows Izuku around the store like a loyal dog, face warring between fondness and annoyance.

Izuku is quite certain that the fondness far outweighs the annoyance, though. Izuku is, after all, impossible to hate.

After completing one circuit of the store, Kacchan interrupts Izuku before he can begin on a second. “What happened to the ‘one’ set you wanted, huh?” The man crosses his arms like a brute, biceps flexing handsomely as he pours disapproval into the question.

Izuku tuts at him. “There’s nothing wrong with browsing. Just look at how pretty this one is!” Izuku pulls out the dainty belt and harness set he was looking at, wiggling it around for Kacchan’s judgment.

“Mm,” Kacchan acknowledges, carefully collected as he judges the set. With his nod of approval, Izuku gleefully adds it to his soon-to-be-towering pile of things to try on, heedless of the fact that Kacchan immediately passes it off to the poor retail worker trailing after them.

Kacchan crosses his arms. “Don’t think I don’t realise what you’re doing, baby boy.”

Izuku ought to feel sheepish at being caught out so easily, but it’s to be expected when he’s trying to con Kacchan. Instead, he tilts his head and bats his big, round eyes, the perfect picture of innocence. “But Daddy, what exactly are you going to do about it?”

Kacchan crosses his arms, but Izuku’s got him there. Kacchan wants to see Izuku in this lingerie just as much as Izuku wants to try them on. And if all of this has the bonus of Izuku keeping Kacchan to himself for a little longer, then they don’t need to talk about that, really.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” Kacchan says, and Izuku giggles, wrapping his arms around his Daddy’s neck.

“I can think of a few reasons,” he laughs. “Now come tell me how pretty I look in these!”

/-/

The driver has to help them get everything into the car. As soon as they’re in, Kacchan orders the driver to start the car and get them back to his work quickly.

It’s cute that Kacchan thinks they’d be going anywhere near his office if not for Izuku allowing it.

“Are you satisfied now, brat?” Kacchan asks, pulling on his seatbelt only after the car has started moving (ooh, rebellious).

Izuku hums. He takes a long few moments to rearrange the copious amount of bags around him, just because he can. He pretends to think very hard about it before nodding exaggeratedly. “Yes, I think I am. For today, at least.”

When Kacchan groans, Izuku shuts him up with a kiss, and they smile like kids in love against each other’s lips.

/-/

Deku seems to have tuckered himself out during their shopping trip, which is understandable considering the sheer amount of clothes he insisted he try on before making Katsuki buy everything for him. He spends the car ride back draped over Katsuki’s side, giving a docile little mumble every now and then when he sees a dog on the sidewalk or a pretty flower that apparently reminds him of Katsuki’s eyes.

(How can the fucker get even cuter than usual just because he tired himself out being a whiny brat all day? How is that fair at all to Katsuki’s heart? Not to mention his wallet...)

(It’s not like Katsuki can’t afford it, but damn, lingerie is surprisingly fucking expensive.)

Katsuki carefully shakes Deku awake when they arrive, because he has learnt the hard way that if he leaves Deku to doze or wakes him too quickly, there will be hell to pay. So he accepts Deku’s blindly groping hand into his own and leads him into the building, where Izuku says something vague about harassing his friend in reception and stumbles off, bleary-eyed.

Katsuki has some interns come down and transfer Deku’s things into his private car so he can attempt to get some work done before Deku makes it upstairs. Deku usually settles down after a few hours of monopolising Katsuki’s time and attention, but with the mood he’s in today, Katsuki doesn’t like his chances of getting anything else done.

He’s gotten as far as opening up an email from a partner company when the door clicks open and Deku sashays in like he owns the place.

And, okay. Katsuki owns the place, and Deku has him wrapped around his pinky finger, so he does own the place in every way but name. But only Katsuki is allowed to know that, god damn it.

“You look like a bumbling fawn like that,” Katsuki informs him, just to see Deku’s sleepy eyes flash with indignation, and watch his cheeks glow a pretty, flustered pink.

Deku’s response doesn’t disappoint, and his nose even scrunches up like a disgruntled bunny, but Katsuki’s gone and shot himself in the foot because now Deku is stomping up to him in a way that says he means business. Deku collapses heavily and claims the space of Katsuki’s lap, steadfast in the fact that it is his and his alone.

Deku slaps him petulantly on the chest. “Meanie,” he mumbles, and curls up on Katsuki’s lap, nestling his head beneath his chin and settling against him, a puzzle piece slotted perfectly in its place. “I’m tired,” Deku says, as if that isn’t obvious already.

Kastuki huffs, presses a feather-soft kiss to the crown of his head. “Just rest, idiot.”

“‘Mkay Daddy…”

Katsuki strokes his fingers through the softness of Izuku’s hair and cradles him as Deku’s body relaxes into Katsuki’s own. “Good boy,” he murmurs.

Pressed tenderly together, Deku continues babbling quietly to fill the peaceful sunset air. Katsuki nods along and holds his baby securely in his arms until he floats off into sleep.

Clack clack clack. With a watchful eye on Deku, lovely and sleep-soft against his chest, Katsuki quietly gets back to work.

#bakudeku #katsudeku #bnha #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #sugar daddy AU #my fic #commissioned writing #commission #post #long post

1K notes · View notes

clouds-rambles · 3 years

Note

hey bestie i was hoping to request xiao, venti, childe and zhongli where the the reader and the character have just had an argument + the reader needs time to calm down from the argument. omg maybe the reader comes back with a gift to apologise

Ask and ye shall receive <3. I’m the kind of person who needs time to relax and process the situation after an argument. I’m always too worked up (read angry) to kiss and make up straight after an argument.

Pairings; (Separate) Xiao, Venti, Childe, Zhongli x reader

Warning(s); breif mention of a wound, alcoholism, swearing

Keep reading under the cut!

Xiao

You’re probably being too harsh on the guy

You had just come back from a tough mission with a few more scrapes than you normally come back, a nasty cut in particular situated on your shoulder was what caused the argument to kick off in the first place

In hindsight the argument started from Xiao’s concern of you getting hurt worse but you were too tired from the commission to really read it as concern

But boy now do you feel bad. You both went your separate ways for the evening and in the morning you still haven’t caught sight of your partner. You eventually go around Wangshu Inn and ask if they’ve seen Xiao.

You get told that he’s out for the day, apparently he caught wind of something manifesting in the mountains. So, you suppose that it’s high time to make an apology gift

And what’s a better apology gift than your partners favourite food? Because your arguments are often few and far between you don’t mind making Xiao almond tofu since it’s not something you’ve associated with apologising

Though you’re aware that the sweet snack means nothing if you’re not sincere with your apology.

So what’s more sincere than sitting at the highest balcony of Wangshu Inn and wait for Xiao. You don’t mind how long it takes for him to come back just as long as you get to apologise

He comes back just after dusk and you pour your apologise profusely and tell him you understand that he was coming from a place of concern

Xiao is a little distant a short while after the apology but soon you’re reassured that he accepts it when he places his hand on the table for you to take hold of

The two of you sit in silence sat hand in hand while Xiao eats his tofu

You watch him eat with a grin on your face, sometimes just watching the Yaksha sit still and do his thing is enough to keep you in a trance for the evening

Venti

Maybe you got into an argument because you’re concerned over Venti’s drinking habits, sure he’s an immortal god but doesn’t he worry about his liver?

Sure the argument started because you’re worried about the archon but boy does he make you angry with his non-sensical thought processes

Venti is the kind of guy who wouldn’t let you leave without settling the argument

Even if the happy medium isn’t actually going to bring any change into the questionable drinking habits

But this argument just feels a little different, you’ve had the same conversation form months but nothing seems to change

You’re not even sure if Venti has actually listened to anything you have said to him about it

So you tell him “Do what you want, but you’re sleeping on the sofa tonight” yeah you just resigned him to sofa treatment. As much as you hate it you’re far too heated to just kiss and make up right now

So the night passes and you wake up with the cold space beside you, you’re confused until you remember the previous nights events

Though your unusual silence in the room doesn’t last long, you presume Venti sensed that you’re awake because you hear a knock at your bedroom door, you’re surprised that Venti is actually here and that he hadn’t sulked off to Windrise where you had originally planned to apologise to him

As you open the door you notice your partner stood before you with a bunch of hand picked cecelia's and dandelions and an apologetic look on his face

You’ve never known Venti to speak so fast he apologises profusely for causing you such worry and promises that he’ll try to drink less, he mentions that he doesn’t wish to give up his Friday and Saturday drinking nights but he’s willing to tone it down during the week if it stops you worrying

You thank him sincerely and find a vase to put the flowers in

You hug Venti and apologise yourself for being such a worry wart and causing such a big argument

“I’m glad I have someone to worry about me, I don’t know what I’d do without you” You can’t help but swoon at his flowery words and grin at him before the two of you start off the day

Childe

It’s a bad habit he has, when you try and talk about something serious with him he constantly cracks jokes at the situation. Which in its self isn’t the worse thing in the world, even you crack jokes to lighten the situation but at some points it goes too far

And today is too far, what started off as a disagreement about where you were going to eat lunch ended up in a full scale (mostly one sided) argument in Childes office about how he can’t take things seriously

You, of course, know this to be false. You’ve seen him in action against his foes and bank business but just in this moment when you are so angry about the situation those rational thoughts go out the window

And what does the bastard do? He cracks another fucking joke

“Is this what I am?” you ask finally reaching the catalyst of your temper “A fucking joke?”

And boy does the exclamation comes to a surprise to him. No matter how frequent your use of curse words you’ve never directed them at him so it catches Childe by even more surprise

“[name] I’m sorry I didn’-” he tries to apologise

“You didn’t fucking what Tartaglia? Want to make me feel like a joke? Cause you’ve been going down that road at every fucking disagreement we have” you cut him off in a fit of rage “Sleep in your own fucking bed tonight” you add before storming out his office

He tried to follow you out the bank before he was stopped by a fatui agent about some urgent debt collection, so he never got to apologise immediately

And that’s how the next couple of days go, you’ve taken most of the time to cool off and avoid anywhere Childe might be hanging about, your plan works better considering said harbinger was out of Liyue Harbour for a couple of days

Though on the third night Childe appears at your door, he doesn’t bring any gifts, just himself. Childe enjoys gifting things to you so he doesn’t want you or him to associate gift giving with apologies. You’re more than thankful for this

Childe apologises before you even have the chance to invite him in and takes your hand and wholeheartedly promises to try and not make jokes when you have a disagreement

You also apologise and agree that, in hindsight, you blew things out of proportion. You reassure him that he’s a hardworking man and that a few out of place jests make everything more bearable to him.

You invite him inside for some tea, your bed isn’t as cold as it was tonight

Zhongli

Disagreements with Zhongli never seem to get any further than that. The archon likes to listen to you vent your frustrations over a cup of herbal tea and usually that calms you down and everything is settled before supper

But every once in a while you’re a little high strung. For instance this time you’re running on a total of 5 hours sleep over the last 4 days. Sleep deprivation could possibly be your middle name at this point

The only thing you want to do when you get back from your restless trip from Mondstat back home is to just sleep the next few years

But the sweetie that Zhongli is he quizzes you about your great to horrific trip

Zhongli pulls all the stops he readys some dinner for you and draws a bath when you get back. He even gives you a small lecture about how you’ll feel terrible not washing before going to bed

But with your tired ears, eyes and brain it feels like a personal attack in your entire self “I’ve had it up to here with bloody hillichurls for 4 horrific days, all I want to do is pass the living hell out thank you”

Replace the bloodys with fucks and that’s probably more accurate to what you said

Zhongli is taken a little aback, being an older traditional man it’s unbecoming of anyone to use such sailor language. And thus the male lectures you about it

You take that as about as well as you expect, you don’t respond to him and favour walking out the room, barely getting undressed and collapsing on your shared bed

You wake up the next morning (though when you peek outside it seems like it’s after noon) disorientated. You don’t actually remember coming home the previous day

Then the memory resurfaces of you yelling at your spouse and regret washes over you

Surely the gift you had prepared for Zhongli would be good enough as repercussions of yesterdays outburst

You see Zhongli in the dining room, to the untrained eye he looks like he’s in a normal mood but to you, you can see his brooding emanating off of him. If you dare point it out Zhongli will deny that he even broods in the first place

He’s the first to greet you without turning around. Rightfully so, he’s still in a mood. So you just profusely apologise for your outburst

You explain that you were running on next to no sleep and while that doesn’t excuse your outburst it certainly explains it. If your spouse so wishes to ask how your trip was you would comply much more now since you’ve had a good sleep behind you.

You then change the subject to the gift in your hands, some rose tea. Something Zhongli had mentioned when you were courting all that time ago.

The man sits you on his lap and explains to you about how it was out of place of him to assume you’d be in a talking mood immediately after your travels. You reassure him that under normal circumstances you wouldn’t mind talking about it, you promise that you will do everything in your power to not let the previous night repeat

You then bring out his gift, rose tea, which he had mentioned wanting to taste a little while back, and before long you’re back in the cycle of Zhongli profusely explaining to you some random subject (in this instance rose tea) before you go off to make dinner where you finally share the details of your travels

Hope this is okay! <3 I kind of went a little ham with the Childe and Zhongli one in comparison to the other two hope you don’t mind lmao <3

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #reader insert #xiao x reader #genshin xiao x reader #genshin xiao #venti x reader #genshin venti x reader #genshin venti #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin childe x reader #genshin childe #zhongli x reader #genshin zhongli x reader #genshin zhongli

891 notes · View notes

a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives · 2 years

Text

How ‘Our Flag Means Death’ Designers Mixed History With Broad Theatricality

Working on “Our Flag Means Death,” a half-hour comedy now streaming on HBO Max, production designer Ra Vincent was excited for the challenge of crafting “a theatrical play … on the high sea.”

Concept art by Ra Vincent, reunited with collaborator Taika Waititi

A fictionalized account of reallife 18th-century “gentleman pirate” Stede Bonnet (played by Rhys Darby) and his relationship with the infamous Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard (Taika Waititi), the series needed to use its sets in ways that typical movie and television productions do not.

“It’s less of a major motion picture and more of a theater sports performance,” Vincent explains. At the outset, Vincent says the team decided, “Let’s build an environment where the cast can explore exactly who the character would be without the limitations of having a seriously preplanned set.” To fashion that kind of open space, the art department needed to make room for 100 crew members and their equipment, while also allowing for the actors and their needs in the moment. “That meant building 360-degree environments for them to work in, and then making them shootable,” Vincent says. “So we made these theatrical versions of stage backdrops for these characters to work in. They were really there to support the development of these characters.”

Production designer Ra Vincent conceived theatrical versions of stage backdrops for actors to work against.

In 1717, Bonnet commissioned a Spanish galleon outfitted as a warship and christened the Revenge. Vincent describes his vision for the vessel: “Part of his flamboyance sort of rubbed off in the finishing of this ship. You can commission a warship easy enough, but then when it comes time to do your decorations and add your flair, that’s where we built a layer of Stede Bonnet over everything.”

Vincent went merrily over the top in designing the captain’s quarters: “We modeled his cabin loosely off your typical sailing vessels at the time, but given a little extra proportion we built into his cabin an amazing bathroom and walk-in wardrobes and a library with an open fire. It’s sort of a crazy notion: Who would have an open fire in the library on a wooden boat? Stede Bonnet would, just because it looks right.”

Completing the look of the captain’s quarters, set decorator Christopher Carlson added soft furnishings, fine linens and many of the sorts of details one might expect to see from a pirate who is actually an aristocrat. When fully assembled, the Revenge is 180 feet long and fills a large soundstage at Warner Bros. “We did quite a lot of serious research and realized that it would be extravagantly difficult to build [an exact replica of a] sailing ship,” Vincent says. “We went about simplifying some things.”

For instance, the actual ship had a great deal of rope hanging from it for specific purposes. “But maybe we don’t quite need to make everything make sense,” says Vincent. “Sometimes a rope looks better at one end of the ship than it does at the end of the ship where it’s supposed to be. For the purposes of telling a really great story, you kind of want to coerce the audience into believing what they’re seeing is a version of reality.”

Similarly, the designers loosely interpreted other historical details. For a fictitious pirate town in the Caribbean, “we also used a massive LED backdrop, with a two-dimensional plate projected on it, of a few locations in Puerto Rico,” the designer says. “And you can kind of tell when you’re watching the series that it seems like you’re there but you’re not really there: Is this a play? Or are we at sea?”

Ultimately, Vincent sees his job as supporting both story and character. “The audience already bought the fact that we’re on a boat,” he says. “After that, you can allow yourself to leave the epic scenery alone and just enjoy watching people do amazing performances.”

Source: Variety

#our flag means death #ofmd #black sails #holy i spilled my drink when I recognise hal gates there #wonder if taika has seen black sails

36 notes · View notes

gildedmuse · 2 years

Text

The ZoLaw AU Nobody Asked For Where...

Zoro is a Sergeant in the newly formed North-East Allied Army and the rest of his company are keeping themselves distracting, boasting about their girls back home. How pretty they are, how often they write, how much they miss them, etc while Zoro just sits there, polishing his sword, doesn't say anything.

Hee, seems like Roronoa doesn't have anyone. Maybe that's why he's always polishing his sword, guys. [Cue bad jokes.]

When they wind up back at a base after a bad fight and out storms this incredibly attractive - like, shit, did anyone mention there is a fucking war on and supplies are limited so maybe spare some of that sexy for the rest of us - doctor with dark hair and glasses and a stern look that lets you know he isn't to be messed with.

Marching right over to Zoro, grabbing onto him, and yanking him in close for an absolutely searing kiss.

Law can't believe Zoro-ya got separated from his squadron for TWO HOURS, right after a damn fire fight, too. Don't you dare scare him like that again, or next time he'll just let you lose both ankles.

And no one is about to admit it but they're all sort of jealous (and in awe) of the young green haired sergeant.

He did attach himself to another unit, this time, rather than trying to come back on his own.

Well, Law didn't KNOW that, did he?

All he heard was someone give Zoro-ya's unit's number, and a rough head count of the injured, dead and missing. Law has been waiting for over an hour, terrified when they got back Zoro-ya wouldn't even be with them!

No, no, damnit, just take him to the medical tent - they're not waiting for Cesar, damnit, they'll do it without the anesthesia!

Law has to go, if Zoro-ya has gone missing again before Law gets back he'll seriously think about shooting the boy himself.

He'll station himself outside and wait for Law there.

Kissing Law again, before he lets himself be dragged along by Law.

You can hear the rest of the camp muttering.

It doesn't seem right some kid like Roronoa would have someone that attractive, and a doctor, and who can see him on the front line.

(That's not fair, Zoro is just as popular with other soldiers as he is unpopular. Plenty of the drafted boys adore him, a lot of the commissioned officers less so.... Either you think he's an great guy, always watching after newbies, too, and even if he's not the funniest or more exciting guy he never gets down or hopeless, plus he's one crazy son of a bitch when it comes to battle. Or else you think he's just some untrained gutter rat who has so far been lucky, whose whole "I fight with a sword" act is deserving of nothing but ridicule and, well, eventually likely a foreseeable death.)

(Those predisposed to dislike Roronoa can't believe a ratty looking kid like THAT managed to find someone as well put together as that doctor. The rest of the unit, they don't resent Zoro for having a guy, but it's just like.... Not what they expected at all.)

("Hmm, I don't know, maybe some girl who makes a living fighting people on street corners?" - if absolutely forced to guess who Roronoa had waiting for him back home.)

("Swords." - Probably the better answer. "Who is Roronoa going home to when this is over? That's an easy one. Just more swords.")

Law would be so offended if he found out.

Zoro wouldn't, and couldn't give less of a fuck what the rest of the unit think of him, especially when it comes to their weird habit of comparing girlfriends. What does it matter what they think?

But Law would be offended for him.

Actually, Zoro-ya could have had just about anyone he wanted, and Law is lucky the other boy puts up with him as much as he does. Shows what these idiots know.

All ruffled up. Yes, he knows it's just one of those stupid macho solider things, but still! How dare they suggest Zoro-ya wasn't surrounded by beautiful women absolutely throwing themselves at him.

(He definitely isn't. Law would DESTROY them if they tried.)

(He might have been, once, but Law took care or that)

They wouldn't be saying those things if they saw Zoro-ya in his dress uniform, all buttoned and scrubbed up and looking so handsome.

(Of course, almost no one has seen Zoro looking like that in his dress uniform. Every time he's even bothered to make the attempt, he always checks with Law to see if he did okay, and by the time Law is done with him, he's left in at least twice as much of a mess.)

I'm sure plenty of Zoro's officers immediately decide that there is no way someone like Roronoa is worthy of a man that pretty to look at. They must have met after the war had started, after all the good ones had already gone. Poor doctor, probably didn't have much of a choice with just losers and cowards left to pick from.

But of course now that they're here, well, they can show Law what a real man can offer?

Law utterly nonplused. As a surgeon he outranks most of them, and it's honestly embarrassing how these men are willing to humiliate themselves in front of a superior office like that.

(There were a few times, in the beginning, where Law let some of the less terrible ones get away with it, even pay them attention, sometimes return the flirtation with a smile. That's only when Zoro-ya has been gone a particularly long time, and yet now that he's back he seems to have plenty of time for his unit, helping the new kids adjust, going around to see some of the wounded, helping their medic Chopper to replace all his supplies and beating up anyone who tries to hold back on him just because he's young and not "a real doctor" or whatever shit they want to sprout.)

(And of course all of that is important and admirable and part of why Law loves him. But Zoro-ya should also find time for Law.)

(He had thought maybe if Zoro-ya saw other people paying him so much attention, maybe he would want Law to spend less time with them and more with him.)

(He didn't expect Zoro-ya to look so heartbroken over some innocent flirting - look, if that kind of guy is what Law wants then Zoro isn't going to stop him - and he definitely hadn't realized than just because Zoro-ya doesn't CARE what they say, doesn't mean he doesn't LISTEN, and think that maybe Law feels the way they all claim he does.)

(Since that, Law has always been fiercely protective of his Zoro-ya with those asshole solider boys. No one makes his Zoro-ya feel like he isn't PRECISELY what Law wants.)

[Credit to @jhaernyl for walking through ideas with me as usual]

#zolaw week #sure we'll say thats what this is for #zolaw #one piece #roronoa zoro #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law #one piece au #one piece short #one piece fanfiction #war au #solider Zoro #still a swordsman though #and his hot officer boyfriend #doctor Law #law x zoro #the zolaw au nobody asked for #amusing musings

51 notes · View notes

conchshell · 3 years

Note

For the fic title meme: how about your blog title? Raison D'etre!

So this ended up much longer than I thought it would be and it kinda turned into a small drabble, but I hope you don't mind!💛

Ask Game: send me a made-up fic title and I'll tell you what I would write to go with it

Of all the skills he'd picked up during his time in the apocalypse, drawing was the least expected.

It all began when he unearthed some drawing supplies from the rubble, items which inexplicably joined the tinned goods rattling around his wagon. And to begin with, his drawings were rough and naïve. He'd never been a particularly creative individual, his mind more naturally drawn to sequences and statistics; creativity was something he'd always applied to the likes of Klaus, Allison, and Vanya - never himself. But nevertheless, there was something rather enjoyable about scrawling across any available flat surface, and in a world without rules, without people, the landscape is his canvas.

His first shelter, if you can even call it that, as it only consists of three walls and half a roof, is decorated with views of the academy; the kitchen, his bedroom, the training hall. Later, when the first of the many sandstorms hit and he's forced to leave, the art materials come with him.

His second, and the last, of his shelters is the Argyle library. He can't believe his luck when he comes across it, because although half of the structure is missing the books are still there, and he spends the first month sifting through the rubble in search of anything related to mathematics and quantum physics. And unlike his last shelter, the walls of this one are littered with equations and theories, the text overlapping in places until they are mere inky smears.

He's got a sketchbook now, filled with drawings of his family. Part of him says that it's silly to be sentimental in a time like this, but the other part of him, the part of him that still wakes up in a cold sweat after nightmares of their lifeless bodies, clings to the sketches in the hope he can see them in the flesh again. Living and breathing and alive in front of him.

It isn't until decades later, when he's sat beside his niece with a pencil in his hand, that his unexpected talent is revealed to the family.

"Whoa!" Claire plucked the paper out from under his hands, holding it up in the air to admire his handiwork. "That looks just like me, you can draw really really well."

"That's actually..." Allison squinted, looking thoughtful, "...pretty decent. When did you learn how to draw like that?"

"In the apocalypse," Five shrugged dismissively, sharpening his pencil. "For the cost of a decent cup of coffee I take commissions."

"Oh, do me next! I make great coffee," Klaus grinned, hurriedly slipping into the chair opposite him and gazing over his shoulder, resting one hand delicately against his chest. "Is this a good pose? My left side is my best side."

Diego snorted, but otherwise remained quiet, too enthralled in the movement of Five's hand. And half an hour later when he was finished, Klaus didn't hesitate in leaning across the table to admire it. "That's amazing, I'm going to frame it and hang it in my room,"

"Narcissist," Diego coughed. Klaus elbowed him in the side.

"The likeness is uncanny," Allison said, clearly impressed. "Seriously, it looks just like him."

Of course it would be. He'd spent years drawing them, committing their faces to memory and gazing at their charcoal likeness when the loneliness was overwhelming, when the days were long and his stomach ached with hunger. He probably knew their faces better than them. He knew the curve of their noses and tilt of their eyes, the way their smile carved creases in their cheeks and under their eyes. He'd found photos of them in the apocalypse, glossy paparazzi shots of Allison on the red carpet, and flyers of boxing matches with Diego, gloved fists raised in defence.

But he'd always liked drawing them. He felt closer to them that way.

"It's nothing," he said, hating how his voice caught in his throat. "Well then, who's next?"

#me: wow I could actually write this into a fic #all my unfinished WIPs: 😭😭😭#thank you so much for the ask! I had a lot more fun with this than I thought!#artist!Five is headcanon of mine - alongside pianist!Five #Five Hargreeves #Number Five #The Umbrella Academy #tua #asks #my writing

51 notes · View notes

chokiipng · 3 years

Text

Hay fever : Genshin various

a/n : suffering from seasonal allergies isn't fun . so instead of trying to do school work, i'm gonna write hcs to make myself feel better

character(s) : Xiao, Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Childe contents : fluff with a bit of crack (my specialty) + : reader has really bad seasonal allergies

Xiao :

he doesn't really understand tbh

he plays it off as a common cold at first and entrusts you with Verr, much to her annoyance. he didn't realize the true severity of the situation until a week had passed.

he's heard of seasonal allergies before, so it's not like he was entirely clueless, he just didn't know how to go about treating it.

because of this, he turned into a big ball of concern for the entirety of spring

he asked everyone he could for help, even that ginger haired harbinger (to which he had no clue since he basically lives on an iceberg)

this also happened to peek Zhongli's interest, who then took him to Bubu pharmacy to learn more. it took Xiao about 5 different interrogations to actually visit Bubu, he cursed himself internally for not checking there in the first place

of course, Baizhu laughed it off and informed the both of them on how allergies work, how they're triggered, and how to prevent/soothe them

if you sneezed/sniffled, he was immediately by your side with a tissue and some water. itchy eyes, he had a small bottle of eyedrops for you courtesy of Dr. Baizhu and Qiqi

it was amusing to say the least, watching a feared Yaksha running around frantically in order to soothe your allergies

of course, he soon picked up that it was because you went outside every goddamn day to complete commissions and to pick flowers for who knows who (Qiqi, you often found yourself picking herbs with her because who could say no to that face?)

he legit locked you in your room at Wangshuu Inn and did your commissions for you. he didn't want you in any pain, so he stayed with you when he finished all of his tasks

he didn't isolate you though, but if he takes you out he makes sure you take your allergy medicine (given by Qiqi, ty bby) and that you have a mask on

Diluc :

he never really experienced hay fever, but he knows the gist of it

he's heard stories of it from customers of the Angel's Share and was immensely grateful to the Archons for blessing him with immunity to seasonal allergies

but he wasn't prepared to catch you practically sneezing your guts out one morning

Diluc drops everything, much to Adelinde's horror, and orders for a box of tissues and water immediately. he whips out the blankets from under the couch that he knew you hid and props you on some pillows he fluffed in a panicked rush

the maids watch with a nervous chuckle as he runs around the mansion, completely forgetting about his shift at the Angel's Share and his nightly heroic duties

as soon as he calms down from the initial shock of how hard allergies hit you, he asks you how your feeling and if he can do anything

the next day he asks Donna (who stutters at his mere presence), who mind you is an employee at the Floral Whisper, since Flora isn't there herself about hay fever. he figured that people who worked at a flower shop would know about allergies caused by the pollen produced by flowers

he brings back medicine that you've been instructed to take daily as to lessen the affects of your allergies

despite his day duties, he offers to take up your daily commissions during the days you are physically unable to do them or just does them of his own volition

he trusts that the maids will take care of you in his stead

in the mean time, you're allowed to roam the city as you wish, but that's about it. he threatened Lawrence and Swan that they would feel the wrath of retribution if you stepped foot outside the city

Mondstadt was a land of eternal springtime, there was no way in hell he was letting you out of the city without his supervision

while all of this may be a bit much, he makes sure to let you know that this is just him caring for you. he doesn't want to seem overbearing and trusts that you know what's happening to your body and how to treat it

Kaeya :

he laughs at your demise

what did you expect ?

but he really is worrying on the inside

he makes sure to check in with Barbara just to make sure that you're not suffering from a lethal disease

once he knows that they're just seasonal allergies, (almost) all his worries subside and he sighs of relief

he notifies Jean beforehand (but sometimes forgets), he works considerably less during the time of your allergies since he doesn't really trust anyone else to take care of you

he also doesn't drink as much, surprising, he knows

he refrains from bringing you flowers as he usually does and instead spoils you with unnecessary affection

Kaeya doesn't worry as much since he puts faith in you that you know what's going on in your body. since they're seasonal allergies, he realizes that you must've gone through this before and know how to treat it

since you can't really cure it, you just act more cautious in the outdoors

he often accompanies you on your daily commissions and such, just to be sure that your okay. he takes over the moment you pause to sneeze or itch your nose even once

aside from this, he's the other reason why your allergies are unbearable

once they're all done and over, he teases you relentlessly about how reliant you were on him when in reality it was him doing your tasks of his own volition rather than you asking him. you told him several times that you could handle it, but he persisted nonetheless

he's more reasonable during your hay fever, and despite his unnecessary comments, you find it endearing

Albedo :

he is among the few men who are actually calm during the situation, but since when is he not?

he probably already has a remedy for you that greatly lessens the affect of your allergies

but even without it, he trusts that you know how to handle it

the only factor in here that would cause chaos-

is Klee

once Klee hears you sneeze all hell breaks loose in Albedo's workspace

she runs around everywhere looking for tissues and then ends up bringing Mondstadt's entire supply, which you and Albedo laugh nervously at

once Klee calms down, you explain the bare minimum of hay fever, which she manages to understand

while he has faith that you can treat it yourself, Albedo still recommends that you stay inside more rather than going out exploring and looking for chests, to which you sheepishly comply

Jean cannot thank you enough when it comes to Klee's behavior during this season, as Klee tends to spend more time at home with you and Albedo once you finish your commissions so that "you don't feel lonely!"

she even drew you a picture to show how much she cared!

if you can't sleep at night because of your allergies, Albedo (who is probably still up working) will gladly allow you to indulge in his studies or to just simply read with you until you fall asleep

he too is also happy that you managed to tame Klee

Childe :

this man has no idea what the fuck hay fever is

need I remind you that he grew up in the land of perpetual winter, hay fever doesn't even exist to him. unlike everyone else, he hasn't even heard of the concept

so when you hold a finger up during your weekly sparring, he pauses with a curious tilt of his head

he screams in horror as you sneeze out all of your bodily fluids not once, not twice, but three times

Childe calls off the spar and cradles you in your arms as if you're about to die

it's until he rushes you to Baizhu in a panicked frenzy that he realizes that its...a fever?

now Baizhu is a patient man, he had to raise a zombie child who basically loses her memory each time she wakes up and wields a sword/cryo abilities

but he was getting tired of Childe's endless questions quick.

Childe shrieks as the normally passive pharmacist slams his hands down on the counter with a sickeningly sweet smile

he ceases in his questions, apologizes for bothering him, and races back to the Northland Bank in a cold sweat

it takes you explaining it in a calm voice for him to finally understand it

and he takes this very seriously

while he knows that it's seasonal and that you've gone through it before, he can't help but worry for you

he coddles you, and he doesn't relent even if you tell him

he slaps a mask on you, takes away your fighting privileges, and even order his subordinates to keep an eye on you at all times

that is if he's not already

he clings

he's attached to you

he just wants you to feel better, and you appreciate it, but it can get a little too much sometimes

and while you do tell him this, the same situation happens every year when spring comes around and there's nothing you can do to stop it. Baizhu can't catch a break from the rowdy harbinger

369 notes · View notes