#the broken shape of my pastels are like the colors in my heart…………………. A LINE I COULD FIND IN POETRY BOOKS

[hyunpic]

love untold by hyunjin full lyrics translation by hyunholoversclub

[micromushroom]

☼ BNHA Dorm Headcanons☼

Synopsis: What I think the dorms of characters would look like 

Genre: Just general headcanons

W.K.: ~1.25k in all

C.W.: none

Characters ft: Bakugou, Tsuyu, & Shinsou

(~450 words)

This could go in so many different directions

My first thought is that if PlanetFitness™ was condensed it would be this man’s room

But honestly I see him more as a person to workout outside and do more active things whilst being productive

It’s canon that he likes hiking, so I feel like a lot of the equipment in his room would be based off of that

If anything, he probably has a few weights (like dumbbells) that are lying around

Has most definitely kicked one on accident at night walking around his room

I feel like it’s relatively plain but over time becomes more clustered

The Bakusquad will start randomly leaving or putting things in Bakugou’s room

It can be anything from Denki leaving little dollar store trinkets on Bakugou’s desk; to Kiri making random things out of garbage in class and putting it on Bakugou’s shelf

He doesn’t strike me as someone to have a lot of pictures or memorabilia, but there’s little pictures on the wall by his bed with sticky tack photos of his friends throughout the years

He’s an All Might fanboy at heart, but I doubt he has as much physical display of this as Midoriya

I headcanon that there’s posters and like some rare collectibles of action figures and merch

Inko made him a throw blanket as a kid for his birthday of All Might and he still has it at the end of his bed

Despite it being relatively clustered with small things in some places (again, courtesy of the Bakusquad), it’s still pretty clean and spacious

His curtains are usually closed, so the only possibility for plants that he could sustain are either fake or don’t survive for long

Since his parents are both fashion designers, his closet is full of clothing that he’ll probably never wear from name brands all over

His desk serves as a multiple purpose space: homework, charging station, and bookshelf

Bakugou’s bed is always made and—as much as I hate to say it—he probably only sleeps with two pillows—three on occasion

He has a speaker that he uses whenever he’s not doing homework, but it’s probably super loud (headcanoning that he’s partly deaf from his quirk)

His closet alone could be an entirely different post

Overall, Bakugou’s room is kind of dark and a tad bit more grunge themed

Kirishima leaves Bakugou lots of little notes saying things like are either:

“Hey Bakubro, can you help with math please? :D” to

“Remember to hydrate and take a break” with a little thumbs up doodle

Lots of self notes too reminding him of what he has to do and his schedule for the day

(~340 words)

Tsu canonically has all of the attributes—strengths and weaknesses—that a frog does

For this reason, I think that she has humidifiers and just temperature regulations throughout her room

Lots of plants and art prints, mainly from friends

Little lily pad shaped fairy lights strung across her room

I picture her room as having a lot of plants like ivy and vines, but also a lot of really exotic plants

Lots of pillows and blankets

Like at least five pillows and her bed is most definitely up against the wall

The blankets range from those really thin 50x50” ones to comforters to really fluffy and warm blankets

Hear me out—stuffed animals

I think that her friends go out with her to like, the mall, and end up coming back with a lot of stuffed animals

Throw pillows and rugs are main staples of Tsu’s room

Super comforting place and relaxing, but it can become kind of humid

Frequent naps at Tsu’s dorm bedroom have become so common that she has little bean bag seats that people sleep on

Color palette of greens and pinks

Think of a pastel version of kid core, with the mixed color fabrics

Her closet is also an entirely different post, but I’m picturing bucket hats and pastel overalls with different colors and patch sizes

You know those framed glass cases of bugs? Yes, those but a lot of them

Like they’re hanging up by pictures of her friends

Butterflies, iridescent winged beetles, etc.

Like the wood around them is an orangish color and honestly I might just draw this up later

I cannot stress this enough, but pictures of her friends both in and out of school as well as pictures of her family and herself growing up

Post cards from all over pinned up on her walls and cork boards

Generic, I know, but frog themed little details that are mainly jokes

Music isn’t as loud or used as Bakugou, but when she does play music, it’s most likely a shared playlist that everyone created

(~490 words)

Straight up, grunge. kid. bedroom.

Gotta put aside my biases for him for the rest of this

Either looks like a vacant room or the pure embodiment of a teenage boy’s room

I’m going with the latter for the rest of this

Clothes and trash are just all over the floor, save for a few spaces

His bed has been made once, maybe twice

But it is the most comfortable shit you would ever sleep in

I speak from experience of my own bed

Posters line the wall so much to the point where there’s very little actual wall space

These range from prints he likes, bands, movies, heroes he admires Aizawa, to joke posters like, “Live, Laugh, Love <3” and, “~Home is where the heart grows fonder~”

The LED lights desperately need a battery change because it’s more of a dim light, but that’s for another time to change

Jackets and hoodies over his chairs

Has a little gaming station beside his desk

I choose to believe his gaming chair and setup itself is the biggest thing that he has splurged on

The side of his monitor and the top of his desk are covered in stickers he’s collected over the years

Tapestry over his bed

Vintage cassette and record albums

As cluttered as everything is, it’s still somewhat spacious because the clutter is grouped together to provide a walkway

Much like myself, his closet is somewhat bare because all of his clothing he wears is from piles of clean and dirty clothing on the floor

Signature purple and black bedding and overall theme

There’s always music, like no matter what, but the difference between Shinsou and Bakugou is that Shinsou’s music is usually quiet

Wide variety of music, but at night it’s his an entirely different playlist of Lofi

He may not sleep at night 9/10, but at least it isn’t as chaotic and exhausting

Collection of bottle caps and tabs by his bed

Water bottles are everywhere, but at least the majority of them are refilled

At this point I’m just naming off how my room is rn

Half of his chargers are broken or living on 1%

Hair ties that are clinging onto life have their own little dish on his desk

Usually the curtains and blinds are closed

On the back of his door there’s a coat rack that’s used exclusively for his bag and also the capture weapon

Weights and overall workout equipment are frequently used but also so easily lost

The Grind Never Stops

I think the only pictures he would have would be of like sneaked pictures of him and Aizawa training

Aizawa’s in the back doing whatever pose and Shinsou’s either hold up a blurry peace sign to the camera or painfully imitating it

They’re a little frayed at the edges most of the time, but it just makes them more sentimental and fit in with the aesthetic

11/10, would recommend vibing in his room

[palbabor-writes]

oh my god! your writing is amazingggg. may i please have a creepy! shiggy, dabi or hawks whichever one is easier for you where they really like the reader so they do yk normal creepy stuff like stealing her underwear and humping her bed and one day they get caught and they thought she’d be disgusted but she’s lowkey into it and she’s just super sweet and praising and a HUGE SERVICE TOP. I think they just need some good pussy 😔 if you decide to do this then THANK YOUUUU

｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡ you’re too nice nonnie & tysm. i’m glad you’re here!

warnings: general degeneracy, masterbation, handjobs, SMUT, panty sniffin’   

You make a point to leave your room unlocked.

Oh, you’ll switch it up, every so often, just so he has something to work for, but  you prefer to pressure him with a time crunch instead of a locked door. It’s always so much fun. You make a show of dashing up the steps, feet thudding heavily on the warped wood. Then, right when you’re on the threshold, gosh, how could you be so daft, so thoughtless! You’d left your supplies downstairs, again! You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your shoulders. Silly, silly, silly.

The display does what you need it to, namely, giving him the chance to slink away. He’s always whisper quiet when he creeps into your space, it’s a miracle you’d caught him. But, even super-villains find themselves on the back foot sometimes, and boy, was he clumsy about this. 

It wasn’t like him. That was the slip up. No, his one, original, mistake was a simple one.

He’d left evidence of his arousal, of his lewd, heated, heart thudding, want. It was tacky, sticky, absolutely dripping with the milky residue of him. He’d tried to bury it deep, pressing it down into the bowels of your hamper, likely praying that it would remain hidden and you wouldn’t question it further when you did stumble upon it, hopefully weeks later.

You didn’t like to leave your hamper open and you certainly never, ever, left it beside your bed. It had been another long day and, at first, you’d only given it a swift glance, replaying the events of the night before. Maybe you’d lugged it over, too tired to pace the small distance? You had been in a rush. It was plausible.

Kicking your boots to the floor, you raise a hand to lower the lid of your plastic hamper when you spot the cascade of clothing. Again, it’s a tiny, tiny, fragment, but he should know better. It’s your job to notice the small, the obscure. Retcon is your bread and butter and this is too much, too tempting to ignore. 

Fingers follow the hollowed space his arm has left behind and you hit the panties, seconds later. They’re warm, wet, and you clutch them into your palm and pull.    

Fuck.

The lace is soaking. Fresh lines of cum run in thick rivulets, falling down your upturned hand and along your wrist, dribbling onto your bare feet. For a moment, you can’t seem to process the image that’s before you, your mind whirring through the possibilities, the faces. Who...no...which one of them did this?

The next morning, you’re quiet. It’s not unnatural. After all, it’s freaking 7 am, no one at the bar is talking. As you sip on your chilled, canned, coffee, your eyes carefully size up the men who are lounged around you. 

Shigaraki is perusing a newspaper, the pallid hand of father obscuring his face, but you can still catch sight of the red glint of his eyes. He looks bored. He hadn’t even looked up when you walked in, his back bowed and head down, engrossed in his search.

Dabi is perched on one of the dilapidated couches, his long legs curled under him, flicking a bashed lighter, open and closed, open and closed. Like Shigaraki, he hadn’t lifted his gaze to you at first. He had, however, answered a question. Just the one, when you’d asked him if he had found any newbies, any potential recruits. He’d snarked his reply, his cerulean irises latching onto you with a cruel sharpness. No was his answer and you hadn’t pressed for any further elaboration.

Compress was shuffling a deck of cards. Spinner was ticking through his phone. Twice was chittering with Toga. Nothing was out of the ordinary. You finish your breakfast and tell them that you’re heading out. 

No one replies.

******

Unsurprisingly, it happened again. 

It’s a different pair of panties but the glisten of the cum is the same. So is the lowered placement, the bevel of the clothes, and the position of the hamper. However, it’s a little more calculated this time around. The lid is closed and there are no traces of his entry, no cuts or nicks on the door handle or key hole, no scattering of your things, no dip on your bed. There’s nothing. 

Alright. Two can play at this game. 

The hamper is moved, strategically maneuvered into the bathroom that your room holds. You’re careful to leave the lid propped. It looks haphazard, but it takes a precise click of the plastic to lock it into that position. You’ll be able to tell if it’s been moved. 

You tug your panties out of your dresser and count them, noting the colors, patterns, the imperfections in the lace. If you’re going to do this, you need to know what you’re working with. The inventory must be precise, each variant recognized and tallied. 

Every day, it’s a rinse and repeat process. Yank the flutter of fabrics out, spread them across your sheets and count. It’s tedious, bordering on annoying, but you wanna know. It’s like an itch. It sits right where you can’t reach and it tickles at the back of your mind. Besides, you’ve always liked a good puzzle. Although, this isn’t quite what you had in mind, you’ll take it and you’ll solve it, if it’s the last thing you do. 

Two days after you start this mind-numbing task, four pairs go missing. 

******

It’s late when you stumble back into the hideout, padding past the darkened bar and up the steps. The mission, despite its lower ranking, and pay, you think bitterly, had taken almost three days. Thankfully, the information you’d gleaned was worth it, but you’re exhausted. You’re wiping a sleepy hand across your face when you notice your door.

It’s ajar.

Instinctually, you fall to your haunches, tip toeing toward the crack, eyes narrowed, fingers curled into fists. The room is pitch black but there’s something, no, someone, in there. You can make out their outline. It’s a jagged cut that sits upon your bed and you can hear the tiny hitches and groans that they’re gasping out.

As your eyes adjust, you can see more. Your knees fall to the floor, digging into the wood and you steady yourself against the wall, eyes wide. He’s propped along your pillows and his hand is working over himself, using the friction of another pair of your panties to rub himself to completion. You can’t make out the exact shape of his cock but from the rapid fire tugs of his fist you can tell it’s long. It must be thick too, since he needs to adjust his pulls toward the tip.

He’s quiet, but you can still hear the catches and moans he’s making. Your name slips out too and the utterance makes your mouth go dry. So that’s who it is. Well, wonders never cease. 

In the months that you’d known him, he hasn’t paid you much mind. Even through the haze of this strange obsession, he hasn’t altered his day to day routine, hasn’t broken character, hasn’t spoken to you unless the situation absolutely called for it. 

Damn. It’s too much, it’s way, way...no. No. It’s not that it’s too much, you think, mesmerized by the sight that’s splayed across your sheets. It’s nowhere near enough. 

You want to march in there, yank your soiled panties off his dick and hear what kind of noises he would make for you then. Would he shove you off, or would he welcome your notice? Either way, he’s too close now.

His hips have started to rut upwards, unable to resist the rhythm he’s created. The moans have drifted into hisses and his back arches when he cums, those familiar ropes of white splashing across the pastel of your lace. He’s careful to catch the drops, pinching the end of his cock and shuddering at the overstimulation. As he sits up, you cautiously rise, unsteady on your wobbling legs. 

You’re halfway down the stairs when your door shuts. His footsteps recede down the hallway and you can hear him as he thuds into his own space, the click of his lock reverberating in your ears. 

******

Thus, the game of cat and mouse continues. 

Outwardly, neither of you reveal your hand, keeping your cards close to the chest, out of each others line of sight. Your door locks, unlocks, and you keep losing more panties. You’ve marked the one that will make the difference. It’s your new, favorite, pair. You haven’t worn them yet, but they’re a lush item, expensive, luxuriant, an excess that you don’t usually allow yourself. You’d purchased them the day after you’d finally caught sight of him. You couldn’t help it. 

Most people, you reason, would be horrified by this situation, but not you. Oh no, you’re so turned on you can barely sleep. You start to masterbate in the early evening, when you know the others are moving around, your fingers trailing past your dampened curls, a careful fingernail pricking along your clit. You’ve even left your door open, cracked, welcoming the attention of anyone passing by. Once, you could have sworn you’d heard him. The whisper of that gasp, imagined or not, had bowled you over, your thighs clamping around your wrist, your cunt pulsing around nothing, hungry, slathering, desperate for more. 

You want to just toss those panties on your bed and provoke the interaction. Goddamnit, how much longer is he gonna make you wait?

****** 

Not even 24 hours later, they’re gone. 

He’s getting reckless, too. Your hamper is knocked over, the dresser drawer that holds your underwear is a crumpled mess, and he’s deliberately left a vacant hole where the panties used to lay. It’s screaming for your attention and you can feel your heartbeat thrumming against your breast. 

Finally.  

The next mission you’re assigned is easy, too easy. It’s mid-afternoon and there’s no reason for you to be back this early. Well, that’s an oversimplification. There is a perfectly excellent reason for you to be back, you’re just hoping the sliver of intel that was dropped for you will pay off. 

Apparently, while the rest of you were out pounding the pavement, he’s elected to stay behind. He had something he needed to take care of. 

“It sounded important,” Toga informed you, her voice lilting, rising with that sharp toothed smile of hers. 

“Why are you telling me this,” you’d asked her, biting your lip and crossing your legs, soothing the throb that’s pricking in your core. 

“He just told me to tell you, didn’t ask him anything more. You know how he is. He can be, prickly,” Toga winks, popping her head to the side, bouncing her golden locks. 

“Alright,” you reply, adding a mask of disdain and disinterest to your performance. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” 

Lies, lies. 

So many fucking lies, but he must know that you realize, that you know. Why else enlist Toga? He hated having to lay things out. No, he must know, he has to.    

The bar is empty and the upper floors are deathly still.

Your door is sensibly shut but you can make out his jerks, his gasps, and those choked whimpers that echo past the flimsy wood. Your hand catches against the knob and you take one, last, steadying breath. 

Here we go.       

When you swing the door open he startles upward, his white hair curtaining the flush of his cheeks. Those vermillion irises land on you and he vaults away, nearly tumbling off the side of your bed. His pants are still bunched around his thighs, so that hinders him from making a true getaway. As he’s fumbling with the dark material, you don’t miss the shake of his hands and the spread of that lovely blush.

Oh, this is too perfect.

Before he can finish tucking himself back in his pants, you’re dashing across the top of your bed, ignoring the discarded panties, ignoring the dark glare that he gives you, ignoring everything but that heated bulge that’s giving him so much trouble. 

Impatient, your fingers curl around his wrists and you use the millisecond of surprise that your swift action has gifted you. With a low gasp, he falls forward, his knees sinking into the softness of your mattress. One hand lowers to brace himself, but he’s careful to keep a finger arched away, preserving the permanence of your bed. Before he can get his bearings, you’re pressing him onto his back, straddling his lean hips and lowering those dark pants back down. 

His cock, badly concealed by the upper line of his boxers, springs out, curving proudly toward his muscled stomach. For his part, Shigaraki squirms under you, his scarred lip set in a forbidding scowl. His deadly hands lower to yours, but you ignore his unspoken threat, knocking his trembling digits away. Your  fingers lace around his cock, squeezing at the heft of him, stroking up the spidery veins and grooves until he’s dropping his defiant head back against your sheets. 

“Wh-what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growls, his raspy voice halting over the question. 

“Who? Me?” you laugh, tugging a few more gasps from his shaking lips. There’s a pale strand of precum that’s leaking from his tip and you brush your thumb over it, gathering it against the pad and using it to ease your motions. His hips buck up and he shoves himself into your fist, a long string of curses slipping through his clenched teeth. 

“I don’t think you get to ask that, dear leader,” you tease, leaning over his prone form. You’re glad he’s forgone wearing that creepy hand. It hadn’t even come into your calculations of how all of this would go. “No, not with the way you’ve been behaving.”

“I-I didn’t...fuck–” 

“What? Didn’t think I’d find out?”

“You’re not supposed to be here. I sent you on that– ah– that mission for a reason,” Shigaraki bites out, shifting away from your close inspection. You smile at his discomfort and cup your free hand around his chin, yanking him back to you, forcing him to look up. 

“That’s too bad, cus’ I finished early. Looks like I’m just that good, huh?” 

He’s seething up at you, his eyes gleaming in the low light of your room, but he’s not making any attempts to leave. He may want to, but it seems his body has other plans. His cock is swelling as you pick up your tempo, your fingers clenching and releasing as you go, edging him along. 

“You ever fucked a girl?” you ask, leaning back to admire the tense enjoyment of the man under you. The muscles of his stomach, coil and writhe, flexing each time you hit his tip and relaxing as you make the swift pass back down. 

“N-no,” he moans, jerking his hips up, silently demanding that you pick up the pace. 

“Did you want to?” you whisper, lowering to his face again, letting your soft lips trace along his temple. His skin is rough, but you like the contrast. Shigaraki seems to enjoy it too, his eyes slipping behind his eyelids as he turns toward you. When he doesn’t answer, you slow the hand that’s passing over the strain of his length. Shigaraki hisses at the shift and his eyes pop open again. They burn as they blaze up at you, clearly echoing his displeasure. 

“Asked you a question,” you scold. He’s quiet for a long breath, but, after a few tense seconds, he lowers his eyes and nods, his jaw tight. “Should I take that as a yes?”

“I want you to fuck me,” Shigaraki grumbles, flashing a quick glare your way. “Was that clear enough for you?”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, one delicate eyebrow arching at his disgruntled expression.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he huffs, grimacing as you lift your hand from him, freeing yourself to yank your shirt off. 

“What do you want me to call you?” you ask, unbuttoning your jeans and easing them down the curve of your hips. 

“My fucking name.”

“Shigaraki?”

“No. Tomura,” he replies, his voice falling into that deep rasp again. He’s watching you closely and you grin down at his frank assessment. 

“Alright, Tomura,” you begin, testing out the unfamiliar acknowledgement. “Let’s make this good for you, hmm? What are you wanting to try first?”

He’s silent and you can hear the grinding of his teeth. “What’s better for you?”

Oh. Well, that’s not a question you were expecting. “For me? Uh, I guess I prefer to be on top. Let’s me control things and–”

“So do that,” he shrugs, finally peeling those dark pants off his long legs. He leaves his shirt on, but it doesn’t matter, if you’re riding him it’s not like you can’t tuck your hands under the tattered fabric.

“After acting like such a creep, you’re being pretty nonchalant about all of this,” your fingers wander along his sides and he shudders again, his neck bowing off the bedding. 

“You’re one to fucking talk. Think I didn’t know what you were doing?”

“Ha! Well, well. No wonder you took my bait so easily. When did you figure me out?”

“That night you sat outside your door and watched me,” his hands raise to your hips and he urges you to hurry up, grunting when your dripping cunt traces over his tip. “Then you left your fucking door open. Not just once, either, no, you did it for days. It was a whole fucking week of that shit. Didn’t even need to steal a pair of your slutty little panties to smell you then. You reeked. I could smell you from my room.” 

You laugh, helping him to press up and he glides into you, stretching you, radiating a satisfying ache along the slippery heat of your walls. His legs lift and his hands fall from your hips. Once you’re fully seated, your pelvis flush with his, you give him a few gulping breaths. 

“Ahh, fuck, oh– fucking damn it. Ohh, this feels nice. God, you feel so fucking good,” he mumbles, his voice falling into a hysterical edge. You bite your lip and raise up on your knees, making sure you grip him tightly as you go. Another mantra of obscenities drop from his lips and his feet brace against the bed, his hips rutting blindly as you begin that slow lift and lower.

“How’s that?” you query, moaning when he returns those broad hands to your hips. His reply is a sharp thrust and you’re tipped forward, forced to sprawl over him, fingers digging for purchase in his dark shirt. He grunts at the weight of you but he keeps his pace up, using the bed as leverage. 

You’re so close to him and you can’t help but reach for his face, suddenly desperate to feel his lips against yours. He doesn’t fight your hold, but he does let out a long groan when you tentatively kiss him. It’s slow at first and you’re very conscious of those dangerous hands of his. They’re still braced against your hips, but the four digits are starting to dig into your skin, sinking into the vulnerable dips until you’re whining. 

He’s unsure, so you help him along. 

You suck and nip at him, teasing him until he’s raising his head for more. Finally, one of those powerful hands detaches from your waist and he snatches at the back of your neck, insisting that you let him explore you further. After a time, you need air more than you need his lips, so you shake yourself free, pulling away and grinding your hips down as he ruts into you again. 

“Not bad,” you tell him, grinning when he swipes his tongue over his swollen lips, his eyes lifting to peer up at you curiously. “Want me to take it up a notch?”

“No,” he replies sharply. “I like this.”

You snort at his blunt response and give him what he’s asked for. You keep the drags of your lifts slow, enjoying how he throbs and swells inside you. Each time you rise, you roll your hips and he sighs at every minor clench that your pussy does. After a time, you can’t ignore the pulsations of your impatient clit, so your fingers trail downward, delicately rolling and grinding against the bud. 

Tomura tilts his head at this and his hazy vermillion snags your attention. “Does...does that feel good?” 

For a second, you’re unsure what he means, but when his hand ghosts over yours, you realize. “Mmhm,” you gasp, giving yourself a quicker tweak, delighting in the widening of his eyes when your cunt flushes another wave of arousal around him. It slicks between your thighs and pools around his pelvis, gleaming against the dark curls that rest there. 

“Lemme try,” he demands, batting your hand away and replacing your fingers with his own. He’s clumsy and he’s not expecting it to be that slippery, but he’s a quick study and he watches your face expectantly each time he tries something different. 

“Y-you’re doing so good, Tomura,” you praise, lingering on his name, pleased that he reacts so positively to it. “Just a little bit...oh fuck...yeah, right there is perfect.”

You’re not being facetious either, he’s honestly killing you with those earnest looks and careful prods. Each time you gasp, he presses just a fraction more, testing out his new skills and expanding on them. As a reward, you keep the positive reinforcement coming, calling out his name as you fuck him into you, loving how he keeps pulsating and groaning each time you sink down. 

A thin misting of sweat is beading over both of you, but you ignore the heat, too close to care that you’re starting to falter a bit in your rhythm. Tomura is panting also, losing some of that focus as he races toward his own release.

“Harder, ride me fucking harder, (Y/N),” he commands. The sight of him gasping and groaning out your name gives you an idea. You acquiesce to his demand but as you start those quick pumps your fingers reach behind you, searching for something that you think he’ll like even more. 

Ah-ha!

It’s an older pair, not as frilly as the one’s you’d saved for him, but you’ve been wearing them all day, so that scent he was complaining about should be nice and ripe. His eyes have winced shut, so the flop of your lace panties startles him. He tenses for a second, but once he notices what you’ve given him a wicked smirk curls his lips. Instantly, his hand leaves your clit and he presses the fabric to his face, huffing heavily against the crotch. 

“You fucking tease,” he groans, his tongue tracing along the seams, lapping at the thin residue that you’ve undoubtedly left behind. “Ahhh, yes. I think I would have rather had you sit on my face, but this will work, for now.” 

The threat in his voice makes you shiver and you rock forward as you lower, snagging the sharp edge of his pelvis against your clit. Tomura takes in another deep breath at the sensation, his hand still holding your saliva filled panties to his lips. Just a little bit more. Your fingers tweak and pull, rolling the way you need. The heavy sting of Tomura’s cock is helping too and your pussy greedily begins to tighten around him, earning you a sputtered groan from the man beneath you.

“D-do that again,” he sighs, shifting your panties down his face so he can watch you. Obediently, you flick at your clit again and that stimulation, plus the heady knowledge that Tomura is watching, memorizing every move you make, hurtles you over the edge and you can’t help but slump forward as your orgasm crashes over you. Tomura lets out a guttural moan, flinging your panties away and yanking you to his parted lips. His kiss is frantic, nonsensical, more bites and slurps than any kind of caress, but you fall into his arms, overwrought and too turned on to think. 

Once he’s had his fill of your lips, he resumes that steady pounding, his powerful hips canting into you, peppering you with jagged thrusts that leave you gasping. 

“What’s the matter?” he taunts, his voice a wild rasp in your ear. “Can’t take anymore? Am I too much for you?” 

You don’t trust yourself to reply, already seconds away from another shuddering release. All it takes is the feeling of him swelling and the heat of his cum to reduce you to a gasping mess again. This time, a thin line of drool escapes your lips. Delighted, Tomura snags his hand in your hair, tugging until you’re hovering over him. Gluttonously, he laps at your lips, sucking until you’re not sure who’s making the bigger slob of themselves. 

When he’s finished, he rolls you off of him, splaying you out on the bed. As the world falls back into focus, you catch sight of him, leering over you, his white hair cascading around the two of you. 

“I don’t think I’m done yet,” he grins, one hand cupping under your jaw. “Besides, you could have given me this weeks ago. I think you owe me a few back payments. Don’t cha’ think?”

notes: ahaha. this is basically a full fledged fic. whoops. 

did i have anyone wondering if i was gonna pick Tomura or Dabi?                                        

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.33

His Heir

07/07/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 5,876

Warnings: angst, childbirth, blood

A/N: I don’t really have anything to preface this with except to say that I saw this chapter very clearly in my head a few chapters back and it was fun getting it all tie up here. As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please REBLOG only. No reposting on any other sites.

Tag list is CLOSED!

It all passes in a flash. Like a dream in quick snippets as your heart pounds with the stressful images that fill your mind.

There’s fear. It clouds your mind and paints the images with a looming midnight that seems to stretch on for ages.

The images are hazy. They’re gone before you can really focus but you see them, and your mind manages to make sense of them.

A heavy sword that makes your arms ache as you lift it to block a blow. An aching in your lower body as you stutter in a hallway, too scared to stop but in too much pain to carry on.

Your hair nearly pulled from your scalp. Gushing blood that coats your hands. A terrible blow against your cheek that sends you spilling to the floor.

The images shift but the fear is just as terrible. Grandmother’s aged white hair is a mess, strands falling out of the carefully gathered curls atop her head. Her skin is sticky, sweat dripping down along her temples and the heavy creases around her eyes as she fusses by your feet, your legs spread as Sharon paces behind her nervously, chewing on her thumbnail.

Your breathing is heavy, pained moans escaping your lips as you sit up and push with all your might.

“You’re doing wonderful, Y/N.” You follow the voice and meet storm blue eyes. Familiar. Loving.

Steve your brain provides.

The image shifts again and you’re flat on your back, shaking your head, body coated in sweat.

“I can’t…” You sob, voice weak. You’re clearly exhausted. “I can’t…”

“Yes, you can.” Steve’s voice is right by your ear. His hand clinging to yours as he pulls it to his lips and kisses it. “I have never known anyone with your strength, my flower. You can do this.”

Steve slides behind you, helping you sit up once again, holding your hands to give you something to hold onto.

You can feel the soft texture of his white puffed sleeve shirt. Despite the smudges of dust and blood on parts of his neck and arms, the subtle smell of pine and mint and something else that is only his and no one else’s fills your senses for one strengthening moment.

This King of men, believes in you.

He leans down to place his lips beside your ear. “I’m sorry that I can only hurt you. I’m so sorry but you must push, my petal.”

His quiet urging fills your chest with warmth but the pain snuffs it out almost as quickly as it appears. You obey him and groan as you push and your body nearly feels as if it’s being torn apart.

The images in your mind shift again and grandmother rushes away from you, holding something in her arms. She stops by a water basin, her back to you so that you cannot see.

“Steve…” You whisper weakly. “Where is he?”

“Agatha?” Steve asks, voice guarded as he helps you lay back down but you keep your body up as you strain to see Grandmother.

It’s so quiet…it stretches on forever, this moment of silence where you heart is in your throat and you exhaustion threatens to consume you.

“Steve…” You begin again, voice only just above a whisper. “Where is he?”

The images flash through your mind once again, so quick that it’s a blur and as a terrible fear floods your heart with that last image that seems to replay itself over and over, you gasp.

“Steve!” You cry out, still mostly asleep as the nightmare lingers.

“Here.” His voice comes from your right where you find him sitting in front of a dwindling fire. The cinders barely glowing with light.

Candles in their black metal braziers lining the walls every now and then fill the room with a soft yellow glow.

He rises slowly, his gaze drawn down to his chest and for one confusing moment you wonder what he’s looking at until he turns, and you hear the smallest whimper float out from his careful embrace.

You push yourself up eagerly, your heart suddenly racing as a happier memory of sweet relief fills your mind of a clear and lively crying. Newborn. Quivering little voice struggling with his first breath. A silence broken with the promise of a happy future.

“We’re right here.” Steve smiles, moving to sit beside you as you strain your neck to see your little one. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake.”

You sigh, your heart truly soaring as your eyes devour the little bundle all soft silky skin. Steve’s tone. Hair a little darker than his blonde but still on the lighter side. The lips are yours. Everything else seems to scream Steve.

“Do you want to hold her?” Steve asks, adjusting your daughter as you shift back so that your back rests against the headboard of your bed. Your new bed. One that you’d seen what feels like an age ago and you’d sworn never to sleep here. Ever.

But the sheets are a silver blue and the décor is a pastel yellow, silver blue peonies embroidered into cushions and blankets and curtains. Dark wood compliments the lighter colors and although this room is the room where you’d found Steve sleeping with another woman in his arms, it’s not the same room anymore.

This is so very much your room and though your mind is flooded with fuzzy memories of sleeping in here for what must have been days it feels new and foreign.

Steve holds her out for you. You take her carefully, this tiny little angel with her quiet coos as she settles into the shape of your arms. While you know that you must have been in this room for some time, this is most definitely the first time you’re holding your daughter.

Tears pour from your eyes and Steve reaches over to wipe them away. His hands, arms, and face now clean of blood and dirt.

A million questions fly through your mind. Instead of asking them, you ponder over the little one in your arms with her hay colored hair and rosy pink lips.

“I’m sorry, Steve.” You whisper, voice hoarse.

“Why my petal?” He scoots closer, hooking his hands around your waist as you continue to adjust yourself up some more.

“I-She’s a girl.” You shake your head, wondering how terrible his disappointment must be.

“What of it?” He brings his hand to your chin and tilts your gaze away from your daughter to his own quizzical storm blue eyes.

“You needed an heir.” You explain.

“And an heir I have. She will make a wonderful Queen. A strong Queen. Just like her mother.” Steve smiles, and there is truth in his words. You can’t find the trace of a lie in his declaration.

“You mean…you’ll accept her as your true heir?” You’re almost breathless with relief.

“Y/N, Broklin has never discriminated against the heir of the throne. The first born will always rule whether they are man or woman. Our daughter is first born, she will be queen, and the kingdom is safe. Not only is Pierce dead, but you’ve given birth to the first royal child since I was born. You should see the people. They have not stopped celebrating since we arrived with the news that our daughter has finally arrived.” Steve smiles, wiping the last few tears that roll across your cheeks.

“They’re really happy?” You smile, waiting for him to confirm it.

“Yes. They’re ecstatic and cannot wait to meet her when she’s older.” Steve caresses the back of your head before reaching down to stroke the Princess’s cheek. “Now that you’re awake, we’ll need to have those with title for a feast to meet her.”

“Do we have to?” You wonder, looking down at the beauty in your arms. She’s fast asleep, oblivious to you or Steve but she looks comfortable, swaddled in a luxuriously soft yellow blanket. Underneath you can see the long white dress of a newborn, a small bow tied just underneath her chin to keep it closed.

“Do you not feel well?” Steve wonders, caressing your head with a bit more force as he tries to catch your eye. “You’ve woken up a few times since we got back but this is the first time you’ve even asked about the baby.”

You meet his concerned gaze, surprised by this as you have no memory of waking up. “I…I feel fine. I’m just not eager to share her yet.”

Your confession deflates his worry and he settles in beside you, urging you closer with a simple flex of his arm. You adjust into the circle he provides and the three of you relax against the pile of pillows behind you.

“I understand the impulse. Unfortunately, we must present her. It’s tradition and it will give the people something to hold onto. If someone has seen her, then no one can dispute her validity as heir to the throne. The political sides of the crown are inescapable, my flower.” He sounds sorry about it too, but you understand why it’s necessary.

“Can we rest for a bit longer? Two days?” You look up at him, watching him watch your little girl. His eyes are full of love and admiration, deeper than you’ve ever seen on any man’s face.

He loves her so much and you are so grateful that he’s as good a man as you always thought he was.

“Take a week.” Steve relents. “You have a lot of bonding to make up with her, or so Grandmother tells me. I am not to take her from you again unless you ask me to. She was adamant.”

“Where is Grandmother?” You wonder, worried about the old woman after the sight of her in your memories.

“She’s in her cottage, resting. Ordered by her King.” Steve meets your eyes. “Don’t worry, she’s alright. She’ll no doubt show up again today as she has every day.”

“How long have I been sleeping?”

“Four days.” Steve sighs, wrapping you up a little tighter. You realize now that he’s been terrified. Worried out of his mind for you while you’ve been sleeping.

You know better than to focus on that however, and instead you look at your baby. “I’ve missed four days with her?”

“Don’t worry, my petal. I explained to her that you fought hard to keep her safe and you were only tired and resting so that when you woke, you could give her all the love that she deserves.” He smiles, reaching down with his free right hand to trace the shape of her nose.

“You haven’t left her side?” You check, though you know the answer as you watch her little face twitch at his touch.

“Never.” Steve assures you. “I will never leave her side.”

With a sigh you lean into his embrace, settling your head in the spot underneath his chin as he also relaxes, both of you watching your princess.

It fells like you and Steve sit in bed watching your daughter sleep for ages. You almost think he’s asleep until his lips press against your temple and you quickly turn to look up at him, lips puckered.

He smiles at you, pouring affection, before meeting your lips with a soft kiss.

There’s so much both of you need or perhaps it’s want to say, but instead you each pour it all into one long peck before you tear your eyes away from him to look back at your daughter. You can’t seem to get enough of watching her.

“I’ve been eager for you to wake for more than one reason. Before we can meet with the Lords of the kingdom, we have to name our princess.” Steve whispers.

“You haven’t picked one?” You ask, tilting your head as you consider the little life within your arms. What kind of woman do you hope she becomes? Her own woman. Her own person.

“I wanted to wait for you. We should do it together, though if I’m honest, I could not think of anything while you slept. How does one choose a name?” Steve wonders.

“It’s true, her name will follow her for life. It should represent who we hope she’ll become while also giving her the grace to shape that name into who she wants to be.” You rationalize as you continue to watch her, head cocked to one side.

If you’re honest, you’ve already chosen a name. It grows louder and more pronounced in your head the longer you sit there with her in your arms. The first two years of your marriage have been rocked with one trauma after the other. So much violence and uncertainty but also love once Steve came around. And even before he embraced you, Nat was always there with kind words and safety.

The name is one that you swore to forget. To purge from your life for all the pain it has caused you and yet, as you watch your daughter, it’s the only name you can think of. The only name that feels right.

“I want to call her Margaret.” You say. Voice even and thoughtful as you reach down to trace her cheek. She stirs but then settles quickly as you shush her and bounce her slowly.

“Why?” Steve sounds confused, but you don’t dare look at him. Your insecurity is still there, deep down within your heart where you will always hear him comparing you to his dearly departed first wife. You also know that he will never stop trying to make it up to you.

“Because she was important to you. Because you loved her, and she was strong and brave and because I want to love her too. Despite the negative affects her lingering presence had on our marriage when it began, she also helped us grow into who we are now. As a pair, you and I would not have been as strong, I don’t think, if Margaret hadn’t been there to divide us in the beginning.” You turn to look at him now, because you want him to know that you aren’t holding it against him.

“I want our daughter to grow up to be just as powerful as Margaret was. I want her to command someone’s heart the way Margaret commanded yours for so long. I also really need to stop hating her name simply because you spoke it often when I wished it were my name spilling from your lips.”

A terrible ache echoes within you as you remember Steve calling Maggie’s name while he slept with you. The memory is faded but so powerful to the way you developed in the castle that it will never go away.

“We don’t have to name her Margaret, Y/N. We can name her after your mother, or Natasha? She’d love that.”

“Steve…” You begin and he knows he won’t talk you out of it. “Do you hate it?”

“No, I-” Steve’s voice is suddenly thick. “-I just don’t want you to think that I wish in any way that this were me and Maggie. It’s only you for me. No one else, not even Maggie, can compare to how much you mean to me…well…”

Both of you look down at Margaret within your arms and both of you laugh.

“…Maybe this little Maggie might compare.” Steve relents. “But you’re my only love, never doubt it.”

You meet his eyes again and with a smile on your lips, kiss him again and again. You don’t stop until Margaret begins to stir and you know that she’s hungry.

Steve begins to rise, “I’ll get the wet nurse.”

“No!” You protest, grabbing his arm to pull him back down beside you. “No, I’ll feed her.”

You quickly reach down to expose your breast and adjust your princess until she’s positioned and gasp at how quickly she latches onto you.

Steve rushes to the dying embers of the fire and quickly stokes it, adding more wood so that the fire will build quickly. He moves back to you, fussing with a blanket as he wraps it around both you and Maggie so that you’re warm and comfortable.

You let him help, all smiles and careful watching of your girl. Finally, things feel just as they should.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Natasha and Bucky will be back tomorrow.” Steve crosses to you with a tray full of food, his hands steady.

Gracefully he lowers himself down onto the bed beside you as you watch Maggie sleep in her small cradle. Though small it is, simple it is not. It’s made of the finest irons and woods, embellished with shining pearls and velvety yellow fabric. The cushion within is plush, the rest of it lined in soft padding to keep her safe.

“I could sell this cradle and feed a village for half a year.” You frown, feeling a little guilty in the extravagance.

“Then when she’s outgrown it, we will sell it and do just that.” Steve places the tray of food on your lap and adjusts the pillow behind your back.

“Really?” You ask, hopeful.

“Of course. If that’s what you want to do. We could also keep it, as a keepsake. She may not use it again, but we will always remember her at this size if we save it. She may want to use it when she has her own children.”

You frown, hating the way his words make sense. Steve laughs but kisses your cheek before handing you a fork.

“Eat, my petal. You need to be strong for her.” He’s right about that, so you eat, stealing long looks at the baby in her bed.

“They didn’t have to come back so soon.” You feel guilty about Bucky and Natasha’s rushed return.

Steve had sent word to them that you’d woken up three days ago and they’d written back that they’d be home soon, but their letter arrived just before they would.

“They should enjoy their time alone together.” You lament.

“I’m sure they’ve made up for lost time.” Steve says with a smirk and you hit his gut knowing right where his mind has gone.

“They have every right to be eager. They’ve both wanted each other for so long. I don’t know how they could restrain themselves, to be honest.” You admit, cheeks flooding with heat as you give Steve a quick once over before going back to the breads and meats on your plate. “We should do something for them.”

“I already have.” Steve gets up and sits at a smaller desk that he’s had moved into his room so that he can be around you and Maggie as much as he wants while still dealing with Kingdom business. “I’ve given them a cottage up in the hills. It needs work, but Natasha and Bucky have asked me to hold off on orders for the renovation. I’m sure they’d like to decorate their home in their own style.”

“By cottage, do you mean a like Empire Cottage? Or like my home in Bright Rise?” You tease.

Steve huffs a laugh at your sass but continues to write busily while also keeping track of your conversation.

“Something in between. It’s much smaller than my mother’s cottage, but much larger than your small home. Should I pay to have that one renovated for you?” Steve wonders, the scratch of his quill coming a stop as he looks over at you while you chew in confusion.

“Why would we renovate my hut in Bright Rise?” You wonder.

Steve shrugs, setting his quill down as he leans back against his seat.

“I know that you have many unsavory memories there, but the village is quaint, and the scenery is lovely. If our daughter should ever want to know where her mother grew up, it might be nice to have a place we can all go should we decide to stay.” Steve smiles at you.

You lick your lips, swallow hard, and try to keep the sadness from showing on your face too much.

“Steve, I do not own that land. The house…was abandoned. I moved in there because nobody cared about it or me. The land still technically belongs to the person who left it there. It’s not mine to truly claim or to make a home. It was the shelter I needed-we needed at that time, but it was never my home. Not like here.” You explain.

Steve’s eyes sparkle mischievously before he nods. “Alright, we won’t renovate that hut.”

Despite his words, you know that he’s planning something. You recognize that glint in his eyes but don’t press the matter. You’d like to spend these moments with him in peace for as long as you can. Eventually you know that you’ll need to start speaking up, but just for now while your little one sleeps and your breakfast is tasty and the morning is so quiet, you want to cherish it.

As he leans over to resume his writing, there’s a knock on the door that puckers his brow. “Who could that be?”

Grandmother had already come to make her daily visit and Natasha and Bucky are not due until tomorrow…

Steve is up, pulling the door open just a crack as he peeks. Suddenly his back relaxes—or do his shoulders slump?—and with a sigh he looks at you and rolls his eyes.

“It’s for you.” He says, voice flat and full of annoyance.

As you chew the last of your toast, your curiosity is quenched as Thor’s smiling face pokes through the door.

“Little Bird!” He greets then lumbers through the door.

He’s a vision in a comfortable looking red tunic that fastens with golden buttons all the way up the high neck. Under that he wears a soft white shirt, long puffed sleeves carefully folded up to his elbows exposing thick veiny forearms with what looks like very fine golden hair. The blonde on his head is freshly washed, braided on one side and his cheeks are flushed with pink.

He’s already been digging into the ale.

“Are you seriously here to see me while you’re drunk?!” You demand, extremely happy to see him despite his state of inebriation.

“What?” He gasps, stopping at the foot of your bed. “I would never do you the dishonor of coming to see you in a drunken state.”

You squint at him and see that he’s not really drunk. There’s definitely alcohol in his system but it hasn’t impaired him.

Your lips break into a wide smile and Thor rumbles a laugh, pushing Steve aside as he hurries to sit beside you and pull you into an awkward hug over your empty tray of food.

He frowns, looking down at the obstacle and quickly grabs it then thrusts it into Steve’s chest as he walks by to move back to his desk.

“Get rid of this will you?” Thor orders, then settles in beside you more comfortably and pulls you into a rib cracking hug.

Steve glares at the tray then protests loudly when Thor hugs you.

“Thor! Be gentle! She’s still recovering from her attack and giving birth.” Steve gripes, moving to his desk where he drops the tray a little too loudly.

There’s a whimper from the cradle to your left and you quickly pull from Thor’s arms to take your little one from her bed and into your own supportive embrace.

She begins to coo and nearly begins to cry but as you settle back into Thor’s waiting arm, you reach up and trace the curve of her little nose from the tippy top all the way to the bottom.

She settles quickly, little hiccups of her breath escaping her rosebud lips as her eyes shut once more. She continues to breathe like that, a small wheeze of baby noise floating up to enchant all three of you as she sleeps.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Steve worries, moving closer to look her over.

You’re already shaking your head. “No. She’s alright. Just startled.”

Steve bites his lip. “I’m sorry my Maggie.”

Your heart goes into arrest and then you remember that it’s your little Maggie too that he means, and you feel relief calm your nerves.

“Maggie?” Thor asks, looking from you to Steve and then to the baby. “You didn’t seriously name her Margaret, did you?”

The anger in Thor’s voice is frightening and the air is suddenly filled with that same charge from his lightning.

“I chose it.” You say quickly, reaching over to place your hand over his.

He flips it over and takes yours, holding it back while he gives it a little squeeze.

“I wanted to name her Margaret. I couldn’t think of any other name that fit.” You explain. “She was important to more than just Steve, Thor. And she was strong and capable. I want our little Maggie to also be everything that Margaret was.”

Thor accepts your explanation, but he purses his lips for a second as he looks down at your beautiful Princess.

“Perhaps a little sweeter? A little gentler?” He suggests.

You almost speak, but Steve beats you to it. “Just like her mother. She’s perfection, Thor. Isn’t she gorgeous?”

All of you are watching her, eyes full of hearts for your little girl. In unison, smiles spread across your lips.

“She is indeed.” Thor agrees, then gives you a squeeze. “Congratulation, Little Bird. You’ve done a swell job.”

You smile wide as you meet his eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without Steve. He was there with me from beginning to end.”

“Not the very beginning.” Steve laments, moving closer to the two of you before stopping to caress the back of your head.

“You were there when it mattered.” You assure him.

“You did have us quite worried.” Thor tells you, frowning as he tears his eyes from your daughter to look at you. “How do you feel?”

“I’m tired.” You admit, feeling exhausted for reasons you don’t understand. “But otherwise, I’m alright.”

“I’m glad Lady Carter was there to help you.” Thor admits.

“Me too.” You nod. “Is she still here, Steve?”

“She is.” He moves back to his desk and settles in for more work. “She’s been waiting for you to feel better. She’d like an audience with you.”

“What?” You gasp, holding your baby closer. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? She’s been waiting a whole week?”

“There’s no rush.” Steve looks downright confused with your reaction and blinks as he tries to understand it.

“Send her in, Steve.”

Thor begins to rise. “I’ll come back later. To see you and the little one. I’m off to Malibia.”

“Why?” You fuss, reaching to take his hand as he stands.

“You’ve got a very stubborn sister who demands to come see you and the Princess or she will cut off her hair and dance naked for all the guard to see. Or that’s what Tony has said she has threatened to do.” Thor chuckles. “I should get her here before she makes good on her word. Tony doesn’t think she will, but Pepper promises that Morgana will not hesitate.”

You’re laughing too by the time he finishes. “I don’t doubt it. Hurry back, Thor. I’ve missed you.”

He leans down to kiss the back of your hand and then gives Steve a quick friendly nod—Steve returns it though there s a small bit of ice in his eyes at that kiss to your hand—before sweeping from the room as quickly as he descended upon it.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Sharon?” You gripe, turning your head to look at Steve who looks thoughtful.

“I didn’t want you getting upset.” He admits. “I want you happy and healthy with our baby, marching through the castle making all of the guard swoon with both your beauty.”

“Steve-” You begin only to stop as the door is knocked on a second time.

“That’ll be Sam.” Steve informs you. “Come in, Sam.”

Sure enough, Sam moves through the doors, stopping with his hand still on the handle.

“I can’t wait until Barnes is back so that I can get back to my real work and stop operating as your personal doorman.” Sam teases.

“He’s married now. You’ll have to take over.” Steve says, returning the playful tone. “Is Sharon free?”

Sam glances at you nervously then back at his King. “Yes, she is. Why?”

“Send her in, Samuel.” Steve orders, putting an end to whatever questions Sam has but isn’t asking.

“Have you seen our Maggie, Sam?” You ask, wondering if Steve has told all of your friends to stay away while you recover.

Sam’s eyes sparkle in excitement but then dull as he hesitates when you speak her name.

“M-Maggie?” Sam asks, edging his way towards you.

“We’ve named her Margaret.” You explain. “I wanted to honor her in some way.”

“Hm.” Sam says, but turns his eyes on your daughter. “She’s as cute as a baby bunny.”

You smile and nod. “Can I count on you, Sam? To protect those most precious to me?”

The request is random, and you know that this freezes both Sam and Steve as they digest the words you’ve spoken.

“I haven’t made many decrees as Queen of Broklin, but you are a man with unparalleled skills. Peter will always be here to protect me and by extension, Maggie but I need someone who will only think of her. I need someone who will drop everything and put her life before everyone else’s. Even Steve and I.” You clarify.

“Can you do it, Sam? Can you be her protector? Her guardian angel?” You ask, watching his guarded expression as it softens and then settles on your little one again.

“Of course, I will.” He reaches down to stroke her cheek. She doesn’t stir. “I will defend her, with my life.”

You and Steve exchange a look of relief before you relax again, adjusting Maggie a little closer to your chest.

She coos but continues to sleep.

“Sam?” Steve says, “Please send Sharon in for her Majesty.”

Sam gives you a bow then goes to fetch Sharon who actually doesn’t take long to arrive. You’d be lying if you said your nerves weren’t on edge as the knock finally comes. Steve clears his throat and looks to meet your gaze.

“Shall I leave you two?” He wonders, giving you the option of facing Sharon alone.

“I have nothing to say to her that you can’t hear.” You assure him.

“Come in, Sharon.” Steve calls.

With your little girl in your arms, you have all the strength to face the woman who saved your life. Still, with your belly still there along with your exhaustion, you can’t help but feel a little jealous of the sleek black dress that she’s wearing, raven feathers along the shoulders to accentuate the curve of her neck. Her blonde hair is pulled back a little, black pearl clasps holding it in place.

Her cheeks are flush with a nervous blush, her eyes wide and searching. She finds Steve first and smiles brightly at the sight of him.

“Steve…” She begins, moving in further until finally she scans the bed and finds you sitting up, tense. Maggie fast asleep. “Your Majesty.”

The sudden frenzy in her eyes makes you feel slightly guilty.

“Hello, Lady Carter.” You offer a smile.

“Oh, please, call me Sharon.” She looks chastised though you haven’t said anything to indicate any displeasure with her.

“Sharon…” You begin, taking a deep breath before sparing Steve a glance. He’s so polite however, that you find him staring intently at his paperwork, his quill propped to write but it isn’t moving. He’s listening hard, trying not to look. “Come closer.”

You tap the right side of your bed and watch her until she’s sitting beside you, her eyes glue to Maggie.

Rather than introduce her right away, you want to say what you need to before you let the pleasantries really flow.

With her right beside you, you feel a sense of calm overcome you and you lean back against the headboard to relax.

“Are you alright?” She worries, probably seeing how tired you are.

“I’m a little tired. The past week hasn’t been the easiest for me.” You smile. “Sharon, I feel I need to thank you.”

“Oh, no. Your Majesty-”

“Please,” You sigh. “Let me finish.”

She shuts her lips, pressing them into a straight line to force herself quiet.

“You and I didn’t exactly start off on the right foot.” You acknowledge.

And despite your desires for her to stop speaking, “Your Majesty, I should apologize. I had no right invading the sanctity of your marriage. Really, I’m very sorry to you both.”

“Sharon…” You try again.

“Right, sorry.” She bites her lip.

“All I want to say is that I am so thankful for your presence at my father’s castle. If it had not been for you, we would not be here. You saved my daughter’s life, if there is anything that you want or need, I will do all that I can to ensure that you have it.” You promise, then look to Steve who is now watching both of you intently. “Well, anything except for my husband.”

Your teasing makes her smile and you laugh with her when she chuckles.

“Truly.” You try again. “Thank you. I can never repay you for what you’ve given me.”

Sharon can only smile.

In your arms, Maggie stirs and her little eyes open. She almost seems to be in a daze, her eyes moving but unfocused. She shuts them again but makes more noise.

“Well, hello there, my Princess.” You greet her, and she coos in return her eyes open once more as she searches for you.

“She’s beautiful, your Majesties. She looks like you, Steve.” Sharon admires. “Have you chosen a name?”

“We have.” You nod, looking to Steve who smiles with only half of his mouth. It’s a sheepish grin, proud and happy. “We named her Margaret.”

Sharon’s face is robbed of all expression as she tears her eyes from your daughter to you, Steve, and then back to the little one in your arms.

“You named her after Maggie?” She asks, voice weak and quiet with emotion.

“Considering the fight she was born in, I thought it was appropriate to name her after another strong warrior.” You boast.

Another knock on your door steals the focus from your baby as Sam re-enters the room in a hurry.

“Sam?” Steve checks.

Sam moves to him and hands him a scroll, seal already broken but says nothing.

Suddenly wary, you and Sharon both watch the two men as Steve reads for only a few moments before he’s up out of his seat and flying from the room with Sam hot on his heels.

“Steve?” You call after him, a deep worry settling into the base of your stomach.

“Don’t worry.” Sharon offers. “Steve’s dramatic. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

As much as you wish you could believe her, you know very well that Sharon is only trying to appease you and that something must be very wrong.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Christmas Specials: Jake and Kauri

Honestly, this is mostly just some genuinely sharp pining and yearning.

“Merry Christmas.”

The box, small and light, drops onto the kitchen table with a sound more like a tap than a thud. Jake blinks down at it, cheerfully wrapped in a bright cacophony of rainbow colors in vaguely ornament-like shapes. Jake sets his coffee mug slowly down, steam curling up into the air, particles of dust briefly visible floating through the beams of early morning light.

Kauri hasn’t slept, and it’s clear - his hair is still mussed, he’s wearing clothes from the night before, that particular look of shadowed satisfaction he has after a night well-wasted. Red-rimmed eyes and the slightest wince at the sun coming in through the curtains, and still… still, he’s Kauri, and Jake’s glad to see him.

“Not Christmas yet,” Jake offers, carefully casual. If his eyes are on Kauri’s too long, neither one of them mention it. Kauri smells like cigarette smoke and another man’s cologne, and he doesn’t smoke so Jake knows that means he’s been with someone who does. “You’re up early, Kaur.”

“At what point,” Kauri asks, with the air of a philosopher posing a question for the ages, “Does it stop being up late and begins being up early?”

“When it’s 7 o’clock in the fucking morning, you’re pretty safely at up early. What brought you by?”

Kauri shrugs, pouring himself a cup of coffee. The house creaks around them, ancient bones settling into the foundation. There’s the telltale squeak of the spot just outside the bathroom door, and then the sound of water rushing through pipes. Chris, in the shower, Jake thinks. Antoni steps around the spot on the floor that squeaks. Leila moved out, and they haven’t gotten anyone new for her old room yet.

“I just decided to,” Kauri says, yawning, and something about the way his eyes close makes him look like a sleepy kitten, rumpled and ready to simply list to the side until he collapses. “Had this to give you.”

“I have something for you, too, but I haven’t wrapped it.”

Kauri blinks, pouring peppermint mocha creamer into the coffee cup and topping it off with plain milk. He turns and leans back against the counter, sipping, and the way he smiles a little at the taste of the coffee makes Jake’s chest twist in an anxiety he can name but can’t afford to linger on. “You got me a present?”

Kauri sounds so fucking surprised that it hurts.

Do you really think so little of yourself?

“Of course I did. So did Chris, and Nat, and Antoni.”

Kauri lets out his breath, disbelieving, shaking his head with a half-grin. “I don’t know why. I can’t have anything that doesn’t fit in my backpack.”

“I mean, you could stay-”

“No.” Kauri cuts him off. “No. I can’t.”

“Fair. But I think everyone got you stuff that you can carry with you easy. Plus I think Nat got Keira something, but don’t ask me what. What you buy for a fucking Roomba is beyond me.” Jake watches the way Kauri relaxes back into the easy joking, the more sensitive minefield of simply being cared for avoided for now. “I’ll be right back, then we can exchange, yeah? Just us, first.”

“Yeah.” Kauri gives him that cockeyed grin again, turns to look out the window. The sky is a riot of purples and pinks as the sun slowly rises on a California December. The only change is that it’ll start raining soon, and Kauri wears a sweater sometimes.

Jake pushes himself to his feet, ducking his head as usual to avoid knocking it on the top of the doorframe, heading up the stairs with the solid creaks from the old steps that are as much a part of the house as the pictures Nat keeps on the wall. Chris meets him coming out of the shower, towel-drying his longish hair - he’s growing it out, he says, and it has the slightest curl against the back of his neck and under his ears - and wearing all his clothes already.

With some of the rescues, it’s a sign they still didn’t feel safe, when they took all their clothes into the bathroom and never let their skin be seen. With Chris, as with most Romantics, it’s the opposite. He feels safe enough to know he can make himself comfortable any way he wants. Not feeling like he needs to show skin is a sign of security for him.

“Hey, hey Jake,” Chris says, one green eye covered by the pastel purple towel. “Did, did I hear you, um, you talking to, to-... is, is breakfast-”

“Can you chill up here for a sec?” Jake interrupts him, voice pitched low. At Chris’s confusion, he says softly, “I just… want to do something. Give me ten minutes, yeah? Then I’ll start on breakfast and you can come down.”

“Um, oh-okay,” Chris says, frowning, but he slips into the room he shares with Antoni, and Jake heads for his own room, digging out Kauri’s gift from underneath a carefully arranged pile of basically trash papers in his desk drawer. Hidden, like Kauri was a kid who still believed in Santa.

Hidden, like Jake didn’t want to explain what he did to anyone but Kauri, and definitely didn’t want to explain why.

He heads back downstairs with the gift carefully slipped into his back pocket, unseen until he wants Kauri to know. Ducks his head again - and Jake has been ducking to avoid doorframes since he was sixteen, he thinks, or eighteen maybe - and finds Kauri right where he left him, still sipping his coffee, lost in thought.

Warm gold light edges his mussed-up black curls, sets off the blue of his eyes when he turns to look at Jake. Lights his smile a little, too. Jake’s eyes catch the barest hint of a flash of bare skin at his stomach, where shirt hem and low-slung jeans meet. 

“Want to do yours first?” Jake asks, and his voice sounds airy to him, but Kauri doesn’t seem to notice.

“Nah. You open yours, then I’ll do mine.” Kauri gives a smooth shrug, effortlessly graceful. Or maybe it hadn’t been effortless, before it’d been beaten into him until he couldn’t be anything else. 

Jake nods, slowly, and sits down, carefully shifting his weight not to put any on the phone, and takes the box in hand. He rips open a seam very slowly and shifts the box out, then folds the wrapping paper and sets it to the side. 

He catches Kauri watching him, eyebrows furrowed again and glances up. 

“Why-... why didn’t you just tear it?” Kauri points at the folded square, as neat as origami. “Why did you do that? It’s like 15 cents of paper.”

Jake shrugs, running his fingers over the smooth, plain brown box the size of his palm, mostly flat. “We always saved wrapping paper to use the next year, when I was a kid. It’s just a habit, guess I never lost it. What’s in here?”

“Open the box and see.” Kauri holds his mug in both hands, giving him a pleased little smile, and not for the first time, Jake thinks, if I’d met you any other way…

He opens the box. Inside, there’s three gift cards, slightly shiny, and Jake looks each one over, blinking, before he looks up. “This is… the Mitchells Center downtown, the Blue Martini, and… Holden’s Harbor… Kauri, this is-... what is this?”

“A date.” Kauri bites down on his lower lip, looking at Jake over his mug, and his eyes are sparkling bright. Jake almost opens his mouth to say, I’m so sorry, we can’t do that, we just can’t, when Kauri quickly adds, “For you and Addie.”

Jake’s protest dies, unspoken. “For… for Addie?”

“Yeah. You’ve been talking for months about saving up for a big anniversary thing, and then, you know, I heard you say you were giving Nat a bunch of your money when the pipe burst and the basement flooded, so…” He shrug, again. “I didn’t want you to miss out on your date. And I remembered you said she likes that bar, the Blue Martini, I know the bartender there-”

You know everyone, everywhere.

“-so he’s gonna give you drinks half-price, just tell me the night and I’ll let him know. Then Holden’s Harbor, that’s the big one, but I’m friends with a waiter and the hostess is going to give you a table that looks over the Bay, she’s fun, I partied with her a few week ago. And then… the Mitchells Center is doing Hadestown, and you said that’s Addie’s big thing right now. So. Happy anniversary.” 

Jake is, for a moment, utterly speechless. “Kauri this is like-... three hundred dollars of-... you can’t possibly-”

“Four. But don’t worry about it. I had a bunch of really good weeks a couple months ago and I don’t spend much money, anyway. Is it good? Do you think?”

Jake just stares at the gift cards for a second, swallowing around a lump in his throat, a tightening threatening to take his voice. “It’s, um.” His voice cracks a little and he has to clear his throat to recover it. “It’s amazing, Kaur. Thank you. Um… like I said, I didn’t have time to wrap it, but…” He pulls the gift out of his back pocket and lays it out on the table between them.

Kauri steps forward, setting his mug down. “What-... a new phone? Thanks, I-”

“Yeah, but, um, that’s not what’s important. Just…” Jake picks the phone up, and it feels like such a dumb thing, now, what he did, but he powers through it. The phone isn’t locked yet, and it’s easy to pull up the apps and folders, select one, and open it up. He slides the phone closer. “Pick one of those, and click it.”

Kauri looks down, and Jake looks with him. It’s a file folder open to a bunch of sound files, each one labeled with an emoji rather than words. A heart, a broken heart, a smile, a sad face. A gravestone. A tree. A cat.

His finger hovers, and then taps deliberately over the heart. A line of options pops up, each one punctuated with new emojis. The one Kauri picks is marked with a face that has blue eyes and black hair, a leaf, and a flower.

“I swear,” A voice - Jake’s voice - comes out of the phone’s speaker, “since seeing Your face, the whole world is fraud and fantasy. The garden is bewildered as to what is leaf or blossom. The distracted birds can’t distinguish the birdseed from the snare.”

“What is this?” Kauri’s voice is hushed, and uncertain. He almost sounds scared. But he doesn’t stop the recording. 

“A house of love with no limits,” The voice continues, “A presence more beautiful than Venus or the moon. A beauty whose image fills the mirror of the heart. The Divani Shamsi Tabriz XV.”

Jake clears his throat again. “That’s, um, Rumi.”

Kauri’s breath catches in his throat, and he looks for a second like he’ll pick another choice, then pulls his hand back, looking up at Jake wide-eyed. “You… recorded poetry? For my Christmas present?”

“Yeah.” Jake licks at his lips, his heart pounding for reasons he can’t really explain to himself, or maybe just doesn’t want to. “You, um, you quote-... you quote shit all the time, so I started looking it up, and it’s almost always… poetry. So I figured, maybe, um, maybe-... you liked that shit, you know? And you shouldn’t have to… not get it, just because you can’t read yet. So I recorded, um, like… two hundred poems or something?”

Kauri opens his mouth to speak, closes it again. 

“Oh my God,” is all he says. His voice cracks.

Jake’s chest twists, nervous, he finds himself tapping his foot on the floor, twisting fingers into his pajama pants. 

Kauri leans over and pushes another poem, in a sudden burst of movement like he wants to stop himself and can’t. “Sometimes, I think you get the worst of me.” Jake’s voice is softer on this poem, and it’s uncomfortable listening to himself read this. Why did Kauri choose the love poems? “The much-loved loose forest-green sweatpants, the long bra-less days, hair knotted and uncivilized, a shadowed brow where the devilish thoughts do their hoofed dance on the brain.”

“This is Ada Limon,” Kauri whispers.

“I’d like to say this means I love you, the stained white cotton T-shirt, the tears, pistachio shells, the mess of orange peels on my desk, but it’s different than that. I move in this house with you, the way I move in my mind, unencumbered by beauty’s cage.”

“You, uh, mentioned her one day when Nat was listening to NPR-”

“Ssshhhh,” Kauri says, holding up a hand, as Jake’s recorded voice keeps reading.

“I do like I do in the tall grass, more animal-me than much else. I’m wrong, it is that I love you, but it’s more that when you say it back, lights out, a cold wind through curtains, for maybe the first time in my life, I believe it. Ada Limon, Love Poem With Apologies for My Appearance.”

There’s a long silence broken only by Kauri’s harsh breathing, and Jake watches tears build in his wide blue eyes. He’s done something wrong, somehow. It had seemed like a good gift but he’s ruined it, somehow it wasn’t right at all, it wasn’t-

“Thank you, this is-... this is amazing,” Kauri says. Barely words. More just a breath.

Some part of Jake had been tense and coiled to turn in on himself in anger. That part, at the words, relaxes. “You’re welcome. Is it-... is it good, or…”

“You, um-... you fucking heard, some shit I said, and you-... got me something, I just...” Kauri’s hands move nervously, over himself and over the back of the chair, to the phone, back up to his hair. He meets Jake’s eyes, and his brim with tears and Jake feels his own heating up in response. “You just… I, I don’t-... no one’s ever done anything like this for me.”

“Really?”

“I m-mean, not that I know of anyway.” The joke falls flat, Kauri’s voice is too full of tears. Kauri picks up the phone like it’s a precious object that might shatter or disappear, holds it with reverent hands. Swallows and looks at Jake like he’s seeing him for the first time. “I didn’t-... know you listened to me so much.”

“‘Course I do. Merry Christmas,” Jake says, voice maybe a little thick, buried in the things they don’t say to each other. “Merry Christmas, Kauri.”

Kauri pours himself another cup of coffee, and Jake lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding at the sign that Kauri will stay a little longer. 

With his back to Jake and the phone still clutched in one hand, Kauri says, “Merry Christmas, Jake.”

They both pretend that Kauri’s voice isn’t shaking.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

[kosmosguk]

sasaeng yan. jungkook x reader; drabble

warnings: yandere themes, mentions of violence, obsession, sasaeng behavior, stalking

a/n: coming to the end of the school year always hits diff, so hopefully that means I can post more frequently. thanks for being patient with my infrequent posting AND for the 1.5k followers we’ve hit. I never thought this acc would grow to that point so I’m in TEARS at how much ily <3 

Jungkook couldn’t stop looking at you from his spot near the front of the fansign line. In the midst of all these wannabe artists, you were a diamond in the rough. Sweet, kind, and gentle; Jungkook was more certain than anything else in his life that you were better than the rest. And you were here, real and in the flesh, and looking even more beautiful than you did on screen. 

He barely glanced at your other band members as he passed them through on his way to you, fighting a wave of nausea as they touched his album and signed on the back what he saw as crude, sloppy signatures. He could practically taste the bitterness of the hours of time he would waste later trying to wipe the ink of their pens off his album. He was reserving the front of the album for your signature only, for your touch only. 

It felt like forever before he reached you, but the time spent on his way to you was worth it. You were worth it. Everything he had done to prepare for this fateful encounter had been worth it. 

‘‘Hi! What’s your name?” you cutely smiled at him, looking breathtakingly gorgeous in the soft pastel colors of your group’s new concept. Jungkook could feel the heat on his cheeks, reddening his skin as he forced himself to meet your pretty eyes.

‘‘Jung...,” he stammered out before clearing his throat, nervously pushing the album onto the table before you,” Jungkook. Sorry, I’m just so nervous at how pretty you are in person.”

You paused for a second, flustered at the compliment the seemingly shy fan in front of you just spoke before shaking your head and grinning widely. Despite all the time that you had spent as an idol, compliments from your fans always managed to throw you off and fluster you, especially since they were more rare due to you being one of the less popular members of your group. ‘’That’s so sweet of you. Thank you for being a fan of my group, Jungkook-ah!’’

You called his name. You said his name in such a familiar way. You knew who he was. Jungkook’s heart nearly stopped in his chest as he watched you take out a thin pink marker and uncap the marker. 

‘‘Where should I sign?” you poised the pen over the album, looking at him expectantly for an answer.

Jungkook’s index finger shook and trembled as he eagerly lowered it to the very center of the album’s front cover. ‘’Here.’’

Your smile seemed to grow even bigger, like flowers blooming on a warm spring day, as you swirled your marker over the cover, leaving pretty curved letters that formed your name in the marker’s wake. When you lifted the marker off the album cover, your name had been permanently etched into the cover. Jungkook let out a shaky exhale at the sight, his ears tinging red in anticipation as he placed a small gift box in front of you. 

‘‘Oh? Is this a gift for me, Jungkook-ah?” You asked him, reaching out and opening the gift in smooth, gentle movements after he had nodded quickly in response, unable to respond properly. Positioned in pristine white tissue paper was a single cellphone charm of a bunny holding a pretty pink gem in the shape of a carrot. 

‘‘This is super cute; thank you so much for your generosity!” you pulled out your cellphone and clasped the cellphone charm onto your case, showing it off to him proudly. Jungkook was practically vibrating in happiness. You had accepted his gift, after all; didn’t this mean that you acknowledged and accepted him?

You poised your hand out for him to take, a common sign that it was him to move onward from his spot in front of you to the next member. Jungkook didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay in front of your forever, inhaling your subtle sweet scent and looking into your starry eyes. But if he stayed then he would be forced to move forward by security, and he couldn’t risk looking anything less than a man in front of his beloved. 

He reached out and clasped your hand with his, breathing in shakily as the warmth of your hand spread a drunk-like buzz from his clammy fingertips to his brain. 

He took the chance to blurt out what had been on his mind, knowing that you, his idol and his love, would never cruelly reject him. 

‘‘I love you, (y/n)!” he choked out, his voice raspy. He could feel his heart thrumming his chest frantically as he waited for your response. You blinked at him in surprise before your eyes curved up in upside down crescent-moon shapes and the tips of your lips curled up happily.

‘‘I love you, too, Jungkook-ah! Please continue supporting my group and me in the future!”

Jungkook’s heart ached in his chest as he forced himself to move away from you and onto the next member. He was dizzy now with elation to the point where he could collapse. You said you loved him back, just like he knew you would. You two were fated to be together, and cruelty would be keeping the both of you separated.

---

You sagged into the seat of the van, aimlessly playing with the cellphone charm one of your fans had given you at the fan meeting several weeks ago. You lightly mused to yourself as you sat in the empty van, having come out from an individual music video shooting that took an exhausting 6 hours for your 12-second part. The director had been super picky with your group’s new comeback, retaking one after the other.

The charm really was pretty, wasn’t it? It must’ve costed a lot of money too, judging by how the gem looked pretty authentic and real. You were broken out of your thoughts when the driver door slid shut, your manager coming in to take you back to the dorm room building. You barely glanced at the driver’s seat before turning on your phone to check on your SNS account. 

 You let out a long drained sigh when your phone beeped slightly before the screen turned completely black, your battery completely drained by the long shoot. The phone charmed sparkled underneath the flickering lights of streetlights as the van passed them.

‘‘Manager-nim,” you called out,” Do you have some water?”

A plastic water bottle was passed to you, and you reached out for it, too tired to care about your manager’s aloof behavior as you twisted off the cap and practically chugged the entire bottle until your thirst finally wavered. You wiped the droplets of water that had trickled onto your chin with the back of your hand and fell back onto the seat with a yawn. There was some strange taste lingering on the back of your throat, but you wrote it off as the faintly plastic-y taste that usually came with bottled water.

Your eyelids were getting droopy now, and you wondered how long you had been in the van. Usually, the filming place wasn’t this far of a drive from your dorm. 

‘‘Do you like the charm?” your manager spoke, in a softly sweet voice. You tried to blink your eyes open as you heard the voice. Your manager didn’t have that voice; his was usually more rougher and gravelly. You could barely fend off the wave of exhaustion as you tried to focus on your manager. Your manager’s build looked more different than usual, as he looked taller and more built. 

‘‘I’m sorry,” you slurred, trying to force your vocal cords to work,” What do you mean by that?”

‘‘It was pretty hard to get that charm, you know? It has a little chip on it that tracks your location, so I always know where you are. It stresses me out when I don’t know where you are, baby, so I’m really glad you were comfortable in accepting my gift. Don’t worry, your manager is safe too; I know you’re too kind and think about the well-being of others. I just gave him a light hit on the back of his head, nothing that severe if he’s strong enough.”

‘‘Hmm?” you could barely form words now. You were too exhausted to properly think. You met your driver’s eyes--he wasn’t your manager--in the rear view mirror, your vision bleary. You, you knew those eyes. He was one of the few fans who really paid attention to you at fansigns. 

‘‘Jung-?’�� you couldn’t finish the word as your eyes, against your will, began to slide properly shut and the wave of sleep achingly gripped onto your bones.

Jungkook laughed lightly as he saw you fall asleep, succumbing to a mixture of sleep deprivation and the drug he had slipped into your water to make sure you got proper rest. You were so cute like this. He could stare at you forever, watching the way you breathed in and out in your sleep and pouted your lips slightly. He knew that when you woke up, you would understand. He had to do this. No one else deserved you but him. 

He shifted his eyes back to the night road, breathing out a soft,’’ Good night, baby. I love you.’’

He knew that if you were still awake, you would look up at him with pretty wide eyes and reply to him just like you did at the fansign. You would blush cutely and say to him,’’ I love you, too, Jungkook-ah.’’

[emsartwork]

i forgot to add: how do design ????!?!??????

So I’m not expert but this is how I think of character design! (also sry if you were asking about clothing/outfit design thats a little different)

under the cut because this is long im so sorry

So in my opinion there are three really important aspects for character design!

AESTHETIC: obviously everybody’s aesthetic is different, but this is more about what vibe the character has, what makes them THEM design wise. 

INTENTION: who is the character supposed to be? this can range from their personality, their back story, their occupation, or their role in the story, but the design need to fit that intention.

COHESION: does the design go well together? or do certain aspects clash too much? obviously you can have disjointed parts of a character design, and if those serve a purpose then thats fine, but if its so disjointed its distracting from the character as a whole you might need to tweak things. 

AESTHETIC: the contrasting part of the design (white flowers in dark hair, dark trim on dress, and dark shoes) provide interest to the eye. The mixing of round and sharp shapes also keeps the design from feeling “boring” even though its relatively simple. 

INTENTION: so what role would this little doodle character have? according to her design elements, shes cute and friendly with her round shapes (bouncy balls, babies, etc), but could have a sharp/fast/active or even dangerous edge to her with the triangles (arrows, knives etc). of course the design doesn’t limit her possible roles. She could be a bubbly younger sister who teases the older protagonist, or maybe she’s the villain hiding in plain sight. the shape this character design doesn’t really have is squares(think bricks and rocks), which communicates that she might not be really strong, steady, or reliable. 

COHESION: repeating the curves across her whole design builds cohesion, it communicates that “yes, these are all part of the same character”, it also allows the eye to “rest” on a familiar shape or line. 

NOW LETS LOOK AT SOME DESIGNS

(Boku no Hero Academia) so both of these characters are super heroes, but have vastly different design elements. so lets analyze them.

OCHAKO(the pink one) is all rounds, with a few pointed shapes in hair mostly, but a little on her costume as well. Her personality is cute, bubbly, and friendly which perfectly suits her soft and bouncy design. Howevre she also has a very slight edge to her, which is seen her determination and drive to improve herself over the course of the anime. 

KIRISHIMA(the red one) at first glance, seems to be super pointy!! shapes that are usually seen on villains or really dangerous characters, but while he IS sharp(literally sometimes) and sometimes aggressive, he is also made of squares, which perfectly suits his loyal “i gotchu bro” attitude towards most of the other characters in the anime.  

ISSUE AREAS: so the only problems i have with Ochako and Kirishima’s designs is that their costumes each have one area that clashes a little too much for my taste. With Ochako, the belt over the color blocking stripes down her crotch are......questionable taste wise. I think the design would be better if the pink chest ended above the belt in a shallow v. not only would this mirror the triangle aspects of her hair, it would fit the belt outline, and continue the trend her costume has of being “grounded” or “heavy”. Kirishima has those.... gears??? around his shoulders??? and while the gear teeth are technically squares, the gear shape itself is a circle, which is a shape that isn’t present anywhere else in his design. I think changing the gears to something similar to his boots or his mask/headgear would create a more cohesive design(also the gears just look hard to move in)

These two characters are presented as individuals so their costumes don’t have to match at all even though they are still seen as “connected” because of the art style for the face, hair, and body. 

In a group giving the outfits cohesive motifs is an easy way to present a strong team image! In Yuki Yuna is a Hero, the girls all have colored lines(usually princess seam placement), armor or fabric hip accents, covered arms, and similar flower shapes in their hair. The Aesthetic of each girl is strong in a monochrome signature color, but not over whelming as the black+white connects them even in color so they aren’t out of place. 

Speaking of color! if your characters are all similar looking (like same body for all of them) you can communicate their personality and aesthetic just with color! (only gonna talk about a few of the ponies) Pinkie Pie (the really pink one) is energetic and playful, so her color scheme is a variation of the primary colors(happy, child like), and have one of the more saturated colors(high energy, intense) of these characters in a large quantity. Apple Jack (the orange one) is a down to earth farm girl, and her color palette is accordingly, mostly earth tones, its also warm analogous colors, which makes her appear un-complicated and warm personality wise. the pop of red is a nice touch to add interest, but notice that its uses sparingly in her cutie mark and tail accessory. Rarity on the other hand is elegant and fussy, her high contrast scheme of white and dark blue/purples gives her more visual interest and is something that makes her appear more “complex” in addition to the gradient thats included in her hair. the colors are also all cool colors, bringing to mind cool glass or water which both have connotations of grace and beauty.

however all the characters here are unified by their colors being on the pastel side, which is also important for a cohesive cast.

another, short, note on color; making the color/line/shading of your figure different from the background can help them stand out, this is used ESPECIALLY in children’s media, but can be applied to any illustration or animation as needed.

Color can also help your characters “read” quickly on screen, the powerpuff girls are a prime example, of having a distinct color blocking and silhouette. even the color blobs at the top and my crappy hand silhouettes STILL read as the characters despite being broken down into abstract elements. I also really enjoy the thick outline in the powerpuff girls, it really makes the characters pop to the foreground even though they have pretty simple designs and are often in a colorful setting.

Also, for a lot of animation, silhouette is INCREDIBLY important for your characters, some designers sketch silhouettes and then design the particulars its so important to nail the shape. These examples from Coraline are some of my favorites (though Laika wins in my heart every time no matter what lmao) because the simple shapes are SO CLEAR and indicative of the character, you literally don’t need to have watched the movie to know these are each different characters with different personalities and roles. 

silhouette can also help tell the story. In Kubo and the two strings (another Laika film) the above three characters are sisters. One has chosen to leave her home in the heavens to live on earth, and the other two stay in their roles as “heavenly” warriors. This is even shown through their designs, the two sisters are weighted on top and their cloaks don’t even touch the ground, while the first woman has trailing, heavy sleeves, hair, and robes all grounding her and emphasizing her connection with the earth.

another example of shape/silhouette reflecting the story, In The Croods, the family of cavemen are for the most part very top heavy, with large torsos and arms, usually in a more hunched over position, while the newcomer, Guy, is bottom heavy with thin arms and stands more upright. In the plot, the family represents the old ways, the strength and rules that have helped them survive, they look like very stereotypical “cavemen”, while Guy resembles the modern man, and appropriately is associated with new ideas and forward thinking.

MORE SHAPES, in DC super hero girls each girl has a distinct personality emulated by her shape language. Zatana is dramatic curves and edges, Super girl is hard, straight edges against curves, giving her a solid muscular shape. Wonder Woman, though also strong, is taller and leaner, lending to a confident leader type. Green Lantern is slim, her lines all flow into each other giving her a go with the flow look. Bumble Bee is, of course, tiny, but her boots and gauntlets add weight and strength to her otherwise small frame. Batgirl is lanky and has a lot of pointed style lines, reminding the viewer of a skinny cat (ironic what with cat woman i know) or weasel which mirrors her preferred “sneaky” crime fighting style.  (also yes this was just an excuse for me to gush abt how much i love the dcshg designs shut up)

so in my opinion, Cartoon Saloon’s The Secret of Kells is PERFECT in aesthetic, intention, and cohesion. Kells focuses very strongly on creating silhouette WITHIN the larger figure shape via color and line, most of the characters pictured here have no neck, the one who does, Brendan, is the main character and the use of negative space that cuts into his shape is used to draw attention to him. Kells is also very strongly inspired by Medieval Illuminated manuscripts (namely, the book of kells lmao). The characters still manage to stand out against outrageously detailed backgrounds via their simple shapes and strong color blocking. 

Aisling, a secondary but very important character, is not human, and has a totally different shape language from the rest of the characters. She is thin and pointy, while most of the others are round or square. Aisling also has the most negative space making up her silhouette, compare the triangles made by her arms and legs in the above picture to the figures in the first image where everybody’s body is self contained with no negative space. She is also very different color wise, very pale and cool colored, as opposed to the warm saturated colors of the human characters. (yes this was another excuse to gush abt one of my fave pieces of media deal with it)

hopefully that wasn’t too rambley and actually helps? if yall have more specific design questions lemma know lol

[baeklooming-day]

April Breeze | Baekhyun

Lines 2. "Hey, hey, calm down. They can't hurt you anymore." and 43. "I feel like I can't breathe."

Summary: There is this boy who is too shy, but also too in love with you to not try to get your attention. Even if it means forgetting how to breathe.

Feat. wingman bff Chanyeol

Genre: Good boy!AU, Bad girl!AU, fluffish fluff, extremely shy Baek

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: This is probably the most innocent Baek I have ever written oml

"Look, it's Y/N."

"Y/N is so beautiful. I wish I looked like that."

"Yeah, because only her looks are good, her personality leaves a lot to wish for."

"Be quiet! She will hear you."

"So what?"

"The last person who royally pissed her off ended up with an almost broken nose."

"Seriously, why is she even so popular..."

You walked through the school hallway, pretending to not hear any of the comments the other students present there were making about you.

It actually always amused you to be honest, them thinking that you couldn't really hear their whispering whilst you were passing by.

Little did they know, you had a remarkable hearing sense.

But even despite that, some of them weren't particularly trying to keep their comments quiet, so you would be able to hear them nonetheless even if your ears weren't that good to tell the truth.

Still, for some reason they were thinking that their voices couldn't reach you.

Well. Not that what people were thinking and saying about you was something that you considered particularly important anyway.

You tugged your soft hair behind your ear, revealing a dangling long earring made of pearls, a noticeable piece of jewelry which you liked wearing the most.

As you approached your locker to take a book for your next class, you noticed a little note being glued to it.

A little note, this time the paper was in a shape of a heart and in a pastel pink color.

This time, because it was what felt like the thousandth note in that April which you found on your locker.

»You are beautiful«, the note said.

You smiled involuntarily. At the beginning you completely ignored it not taking any of these seriously, but with time as the notes kept appearing with always sweeter messages, you were slowly starting to wonder who was hiding behind them.

Of course only out of simple curiosity.

You gently peeled the note off of your locker and threw it in your bag, taking your book and walking away in the direction of your classroom.

You did it all automatically, not being aware of your surroundings, or more like of WHO was in your surroundings in that moment.

If only you paid a little attention to your right, you would have noticed a boy in a pastel yellow hoodie, pretending to look for something in his own locker, whilst in reality he was trying to stop himself from blushing madly and see your reaction all at the same time.

You disappeared way too quickly for him to properly look at you, leaving him with only a sight of your back when you walked away with your book.

His dreamy brown eyes followed your figure, slowly disappearing in the distance of the hallway.

Just when you disappeared completely behind the next corner, the boy let out a sigh.

"I feel like I can't breathe."

"Ya, Baekhyun, do you need some fresh air? Seriously, you have been in love with Y/N for what feels like forever, it would be about time to make her aware of your existence." Said a loud deep voice.

Baekhyun, who was still looking like a human resemblance of a tomato with his flaming cheeks, looked at his friend who appeared next to him with pain in his eyes. "Listen Chanyeol, not everyone is so outgoing like you."

Chanyeol gave him a disapproving look. "But leaving her your love notes everyday, sure." He paused. "Is it because of what happened on Valentines Day this year?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Baekhyun said, finally closing his locker.

He didn't want to either talk or let alone think about what happened back then, when thinking that he finally found the courage to talk to you in person and ask you to be his valentine, scarlet roses in his hand each one of them with a love note attached to it with an equally scarlet ribbon, that one popular and extremely mean boy from your parallel class who had a big crush on you somehow found out his plan.

In conclusion, the roses which were supposed to be given to you disappeared in mysterious circumstances during the lunch break, whilst Baekhyun himself ended up shivering outside in the cold winter air, completely soaked in ice cold water which had been poured right on him from the window, it wasn't even necessary contemplating who thought of doing this.

Ever since then, he decided that it would be better to just admire you from afar, seeing that his actions were attracting everyone else's attention but yours.

That decision lasted only for so long though, when during the following months he found himself helplessly falling even more for you, finally starting to stick little love notes to your locker, hoping for not even knowing what.

"Look, of course I wouldn't love anything more than Y/N somehow noticing me... But I don't want to have all that delinquent squad from class one after me again." Baekhyun said.

"Hey, hey, calm down. They can't hurt you anymore." The taller boy reassuringly put his hand on his friend's shoulder. He paused for a moment, before cheerfully continuing. "Well, you know that I'm good friends with a dude who is friends with Y/N's brother and, you know, I just accidentally heard that she likes cherry blossoms and chocolate oat milk." He informed his friend with a knowing smile appearing on his face.

Baekhyun looked at him a little confused. "And why are you telling me that?" He asked.

"Well." Chanyeol smiled even wider now. "Having all this information and knowing that it's April and cherry trees are blooming, isn't it just the perfect position to FINALLY ask Y/N out on a date?"

"Um-"

"Of course it is! And YOU my dude, are going to use it!"

"I am?"

"Yes you are!" Chanyeol suddenly looked all serious. "Tomorrow it's Saturday, and now you have a free period, so that leaves you with about forty five minutes until Y/N comes back from her class." He quickly glanced at the watch on his wrist. "I have to run to my practice now, but I believe in you!"

"What? Chanyeol-"

But before Baekhyun could say anything else, his tall friend was already leaving through the door.

Alone the thought about having your dazzling bright eyes looking at him made him forget how to breathe, but instead of covering his flaming cheeks and shaking it off, he pulled out a piece of paper from his bag, pausing for a moment to think before his hand started to scribble words on it on its own.

The time flew unexpectedly quickly, but you were more than grateful for that, given that all you dreamed of doing right now was to leave those books in your locker and make yourself on your long awaited way home.

You approached the lockers, immediately noticing a new note being glued to yours.

You put your bag on the ground, taking the note off and reading the words written on it.

»All the cherry blossoms seem to be blooming just for you. But you are the loveliest of them all. When I see you it's like an April breeze.«

You would never admit it, but sometimes even something as simple and cheesy as that could leave some effect on you.

You smiled to yourself.

"Who the freak could you be" You said.

"Do you want to know?" Asked a sweet voice, coming right from behind you.

You immediately turned around, being met with a sight of a boy in a pastel yellow hoodie, nervously fidgeting with a blue pen which he was holding in his hands.

It looked as if he had some visible difficulty looking you in the eyes, instead focusing on some random point on the lockers behind you.

His full cheeks were tinted always more and more in a dark blush, and when he finally met your eyes, all he managed to do was to open and close his mouth like a goldfish breathing underwater.

"I... um..." The boy stuttered. "I..."

"You?" You asked impatiently.

As you took a closer look at him, you were sure that you already spotted him somewhere around your school, however you couldn't link him to any particular class or to anyone you knew.

"I, well..."

"Are you alright? Why are you looking at me like that?" You asked a little bit concerned, given that he looked as if he was about to pass out right where he was standing.

The boy slid the pastel yellow hood off of his head, revealing his fluffy light hair. "Because, um..." He paused for a brief second. "When I see you it's like an April breeze." He said quietly.

It took you a moment to realize what he just said, looking at the love note in your hand and at his flushed face.

"It's you!" You exclaimed, making him almost jump in surprise at your sudden loud remark. "You are the one who has been leaving me all those notes the entire time!"

You observed the always present blush on his cheeks, taking the opportunity to acknowledge his cute face, with soft locks of light hair falling gently on his shy brown eyes.

No way that someone who wrote such beautiful words meant just for you, was now completely frozen and startled in your presence, not knowing what to say.

"What is your name?" You asked in a softer tone.

The boy's eyes lit up. "Baekhyun."

"Baekhyun." You repeated.

If only you knew what you were doing to him by saying his name, a thousand of butterflies dancing in his stomach and a pounding heart which was nearly exploding.

You already figured that he apparently was the super shy type, so instead of waiting for him to finally get to his point, you proceeded talking. "Did you want to ask me a question?"

Apparently your own question did something, noticing how he immediately straightened and tried to maintain the eye contact with you. "Yes. I have been meaning to ask you, if..." A brief pause again. "If you would like to watch blooming cherry trees with me?" The question was soft and quiet, but enough for you to hear it clearly.

"When?" You asked, trying to suppress a chuckle.

"Tomorrow." He replied decisively. "Tomorrow at four."

"Alright. But under one condition." You said. "Give me your number."

"Wha-" He looked at you, flabbergasted. "Oh, yes, of course!"

The two of you took out your phones, giving them to one another to type in your numbers.

"Well, alright." You said, flashing him one of your rarest and brightest smiles, noticing how his cheeks went red all over again. "I will see you tomorrow, then." You tugged your hair behind your ear. "Baekhyun."

With that, you turned around and directed yourself to the exit, leaving the shy boy behind you with a pounding and jumping heart, sparkles glistening in his brown orbs.

And thinking that there you were, sure that all the shy boys were too afraid of talking to you.

You left the school building continuing to involuntarily smile to yourself, letting an unexplainable happy feeling consume you.

Sometimes things that you would never expect to happen, do happen in the least expected moments.

A/N: leave me your thoughts!! reblogs are always welcomed 💫

and also i really don't know what to think about this story myself lmao

[soc-characters-as-songs]

OCs as songs from your personalised time capsule playlist by Spotify?

me: oh, I wasn't that mentally ill as a teen

my spotify time capsule:

aNYWAY

ivy: life of the party by shawn mendes ("we don't have to be ordinary/make your best mistakes/'cause we don't have the time to be sorry/so baby, be the life of the party/I'm tellin' you to take your shot, it might be scary/hearts are gonna break/'cause we don't have the time to be sorry/so baby, be the life of the party")

meredith: c'mon by panic! at the disco and fun. ("if I should die tonight/may I first just say I'm sorry/for I, never felt like anybody I am a man of many hats although I/never mastered anything/but I am ten feet tall/I've never felt this tall since the fall/nobody seems to know my name/so don't leave me and sleep all alone/maybe stay lost on our way home")

diana: schuyler defeated from hamilton ("since when are you a democratic-republican?/since being one put me on the up and up again/no one knows who you are or what you do/they don't need to know me, they don't like you/excuse me?")

alassie: florida kilos by lana del rey ("white lines, pretty baby, tattoos/don't know what they mean/they're special, just for you/white palms, baking powder on the stove/cooking up a dream, turning diamonds into snow/I feel you, pretty baby, feel me/turn it up hot, loving you is free/I like it down, like it down way low/but you already know that/you already know")

ramona: speak now by taylor swift ("I sneak in and see your friends/and her snotty little family all dressed in pastel/and she is yelling at a bridesmaid/somewhere back inside a room/wearing a gown shaped like a pastry/this is surely not what you thought it would be/I lose myself in a daydream/where I stand and say/don't say yes, run away now/I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door/don't wait, or say a single vow/you need to hear me out/and they said speak now")

rhea: sedated by hozier ("something isn't right, babe/I keep catching little words but the meaning's thin/I'm somewhere outside my life, babe/I keep scratching but somehow I can't get in/so we're slaves to any semblance of touch/lord we should quit but we love it too much/sedated we're nursing on a poison that never stung/our teeth and lungs are lined with the scum of it/somewhere for this, death and guns/we are deaf, we are numb/free and young and we can feel none of it")

cornelia: don't stop (color on the walls) by foster the people ("I run they run everybody run run/and we're all just having fun/sleigh ride boat ride piggy back ride/i'm going to show them all how I can ride/one two three close your eyes and count to four/I like to hide behind my bedroom door/crayon on the wall/color on the wall/I'll draw until I've broken every law")

kaden: san francisco by the mowgli's ("I've been in love with love and the idea of/something binding us together/you know that love is strong enough/and I've seen time tell tales about that/systematic drug, yeah that heart that beats as one/it's collectively, unconciously composed")

andreia: cecilia and the satellite by andrew mcmahon in the wilderness ("I loved some girls that I barely knew/I've made some friends, and I've lost some, too/crashed my car, I was seventeen/my mother in the seat riding next to me/the things I've learned from a broken mirror/how a face can change when a heart knows fear")

suzy: daddy issues by the neighbourhood ("go ahead and cry, little girl/nobody does it like you do/I know how much it matters to you/I know that you got daddy issues/and if you were my little girl/I'd do whatever I could do/I'd run away and hide with you/I love that she's got daddy issues, and I do too")

samuel: superheroes by the script ("all his life he's been told/he'll be nothing when he's old/all the kicks and all the blows/he won't ever let it show/'cause he's stronger than you know/a heart of steel starts to grow/when you've been fighting for it all your life/you've been struggling to make things right/that's how a superhero learns to fly/every day, every hour, turn the pain into power")

bianca: white teeth teens by lorde ("I'll let you in on something big/I am not a white teeth teen/I tried to join but never did/the way they are, the way they seem is something else, it's in the blood/their molars blinking like the lights, in the underpass where we all sit/and do nothing and love it/and everything works out so good/I wear the robe like no one could")

archibald: arabella by arctic monkeys ("arabella's got some interstellar-gator skin boots/and a helter skelter 'round her little finger and I ride it endlessly/she's got a barbarella silver swimsuit/and when she needs to shelter from reality/she takes a dip in my daydreams/my days end best when this sunset gets itself/behind that little lady sitting on the passenger side/it's much less picturesque without her catching the light/the horizon tries but it's just not as kind on the eyes")

raphael: coming home by diddy - dirty money and skylar grey ("I'm coming home/I'm coming home/tell the world I'm coming home/let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday/I know my kingdom awaits and they've forgiven my mistakes/I'm coming home, I'm coming home/tell the world that I'm coming... home")

[whumping-out-of-timee]

Awakening

Cw: Broken bones, Injury, Exhaustion, Blood, Implied cannibalism, Supernatural horror, Hearing voices, Bones, Implied dead bodies, Panic attack, Emotional distress, Environmental hazards, Mild swearing

Previous: Falling Short

This is still part of the prologue (part 2/3), I'm dragging it out a bit too long maybe. Anyway, let me know if I forgot to tag something!

Red Masterlist here

*****

Nothingness, a whisper stirring to the top of it, breaking the surface. Only to drown again without words.

Quietness, there is nothing here. Rhythm of breath slowly coming to consciousness.

Wait-I.. am something still?

It was cold, something cold pressed against his left cheek? Or was it all around him? He couldn't tell but the freezing was rabid. It was leeching into his bones with aching intensity.

He became aware he was laying on his side. Groaning at the sharp pain in his leg when he tried to move.

Eyes shot open, illuminated by the endless dull pastel they fell upon. Paleness divided only by the deep shadows that cracked though it. A vast, blank canvas that mirrored the stars above with near crystal clarity.

Shit.. it's the salt flat. How long have I been here?

He had no idea, but he knew this place was pure despair under it's beautiful surface. This was the outskirt of the underworld, a place the cast out often fell. The weak scavenged off before they can escape it. Such a wretched place, that whispers haunt it in sorrow. The afterthoughts of those that perished in it's vastness. Voices that were once demons, he would join the solemn chorus if he didn't find a way out soon.

The best hope was to escape before the sun came out, he would die of dehydration quickly in the heat of day. The salt was notorious for drinking every bit of moisture available.

Inside he felt terrible. New fire eating at him. This feeling was fighting for control. Hunger crying out for attention. His eyes burned, his color erased no doubt.

But, now was not the time to mourn his lost self.

I'm just Niko now, a thought quickly drifting away with his breath.

He strained to sit up, everything was sore. Right leg felt close to excruciating, as he rearranged it beneath him. Shivers ran down his spine as his leg didn't feel solid under him, restraining himself from crying out.

No being would hear his cries for help anyway, his heart felt shallow. He was forsaken, Felix had unbound himself from Niko, shedding the responsibility like it was nothing.

That bastard.. after all my years of loyalty, this is how he repays me. In traitorous cruelty.. curse him. I would've gladly died for him, yet he sacrificed me on a whim!

He had to save himself for once. The injury would heal soon no matter how much it hurt now. But there was no time to wait, he couldn't let himself die here.

Every direction he turned his head seemed the same, but he knew there was only one way to salvation.

But which is it?

The echoes overtook his thoughts, endlessly whispering of misfortune. His now sensitive ears could hear every grisly word they said. Every syllable radiating up from the baron white ground to meet him.

He tried his best to ignore them, looking to the sky, a different sky than he was accustomed to. A bright white star shining the brightest, setting the white beneath him aglow. His new sense of night vision painfully overpowered as he stared into it. More white: the color of death, erasure.

Will I sink into the white as well?

He quickly shrugged the thought away, deciding he would follow the star. It was better than no direction at all, at least that way, he couldn't go in circles.

At that decision, he forced himself to his feet, not yet used to his new wings and tail. His bones were no longer hollow and he was heavy.

He stumbled forwards on his bad leg, noise escaping from him involuntarily. Throwing his hands out to catch himself, he noticed his clawed hands for the first time. He lifted his hand off the ground to stare, turning his palm up towards his face. Dark claws on his curled fingers contrasting with his salt stained palm.

"No time for this now" he murmured to himself, setting off an eerie chain of whispering.

He rose up slowly on his good leg. Shifting his weight to his other leg gradually, testing if it would support him. It did. He winced as he took a shaky step, but it held him up.

The sun bleached bones of hundreds were in sight, doomed to stay in their grim places forever. A few souls wandered like zombies far in the distance, others making smooth movements as they searched for the unlucky.

Best to avoid every being here, Niko had never been very strong. Falling always makes one stronger, but he had no faith in his ability to defend himself.

Lining himself up with the deafening brightness, he started walking, a deep limp paining him with every step. Though, it hurt less with every passing minute. Gradually he sped up, still walking directly towards the white glow above.

Soon he had been walking for hours. The faces of the dead looking up at him with envy, voices getting more relentless with their words. It was getting to him, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

Was he to be like that too? Scavenged on by his own kind

A terrible thought that started to consume him. Graphic whispers choking out his own thinking. He fought back against it, his last stand.

He wanted to run, and he nearly could. His leg was starting to feel much better, the limp getting shallow.

I cant panic right now, I have to drag myself from this hell

The burning warmth in him strengthening.

Was this what strength felt like? A strange feeling

But it was only fleeting, put to death by the purplish glow on the horizon. It was dawn, the beginning of the end. His end, lost spirits filling in every detail of his demise.

My time is up, I'm going to die here

He felt so thirsty already, it worsened the more he thought about it. Swallowing hard, he started to run. Easily ignoring the pain caused by it. Did he have a headache now? It felt like did. He ran faster, tripping over bones carelessly. All he could see was the endless expanse, his breathing was wild, eyes unfocused. The stars blurring in his tears, splitting into a thousand shards of light under the growing lilac color.

It's over, was all he could think, none of it mattered now.

Every step was fighting him back, exhaustion setting in. He stopped, bracing his hands on his knees under his ragged breathing.

A creature stirred not far away, disturbed by his presence. Deep sea green eyes peering over its pile of collected misfortune. The sound of bones slipping to the cracked ground. A demon like him, fresh blood smeared over its lower face, whatever it had been eating hidden from Niko's sight.

Niko tried hard not to imagine it, he didn't want to know. Hopeless thoughts overtook him again. He ran, even though it was nearly impossible.

I have to keep going! They'll eat me too, maybe they won't even wait until I'm dead.

He ran for a few solid minutes, the aching pain came to him after the adrenaline started to wear off. His heart dropped further as the sun broke over the horizon, instantly adding heat to his skin. The ground burning with a newfound intensity.

Something new caught his eye, squinting to make it out in the harsh light.

A structure? It was a structure

Black stone in the distance made of sharp angles. It was more than a structure, it was a town! Shape broken up by the horizon.

He turned towards it, walking defeated as the heat of day started to spike. Salt starting to feel uncomfortably warm under every step he took. It was so far, deceptive on the narrow plane of view.

As he neared, he noticed others lingering in greater quantities. Niko kept his vision to the ground as he passed them by, not veering from his course. He walked steadily, not changing his demeanor at all. It was a bluff of false strength that the others weren't willing to test.

Every muscle was protesting his feat as he drew nearer to town, heartbeat drowning out his hearing. Niko's foot made contact with the scorching brick of the town at last. He had survived, against all odds.

*****

Next: Hunted by the Past

[noona-clock]

All I Want for Christmas is You 🍰

Genre: Neighbor!AU

Pairing: Dowoon x You

Warnings: None

Words: 2,428

I don't want a lot for Christmas There is just one thing I need I don't care about the presents Underneath the Christmas tree I just want you for my own More than you could ever know Make my wish come true  All I want for Christmas is you

Dowoon had been your neighbor for over a year now. You had moved into the apartment next to him, and you had seen him in the hallway and around the complex several times before actually meeting him. One day, a package addressed to him had been delivered to your mailbox by mistake, so you’d knocked on his door and given it to him.

When the door had opened, you’d grinned at him and said, “Hey, this package is for you, but it was put in my mailbox by mistake.”

A bashful smile had spread across his lips, he had taken the package from you gingerly, and he had softly thanked you. And that had been it. He had closed the door without another word.

And you had instantly fallen in love.

Ever since then, you had tried your best to talk to him, get to know him, actually become friends with him. You’d waved at him in the hallway. You’d said ‘Hi’ at the mailboxes. You’d pretended like you were out of some super important ingredient you needed for something you were baking and knocked on his door to ask him for it.

He had waved back at you in the hallway. He had said ‘Hi’ back to you at the mailboxes. He had either regretfully told you he didn’t have that super important ingredient you needed or he had lent it to you with a small, shy smile.

But that was it. He returned your interactions, but he never initiated them.

You could tell he was just shy, though, because he was always super friendly! He never acted like he didn’t want to wave or say ‘Hi’ or lend you an ingredient if he had it. He was always happy to, he just never did it first.

By the time Christmas rolled around, your crush had only gotten deeper. Dowoon’s shyness, however, hadn’t changed. So, you decided that your Christmas present to yourself this year -- the only thing you truly wanted -- was to get closer to him.

You didn’t want a fancy new smartwatch or a new pair of shoes or a pastel-colored stand mixer for all the baking you were now doing.

You just wanted Dowoon.

I don't need to hang my stocking Thereupon the fireplace Santa Claus won't make me happy With a toy on Christmas day I just want you for my own More than you could ever know Make my wish come true All I want for Christmas is you

Against your better judgment, you decided to throw a Christmas party.

I say ‘against your better judgment’ because a party truly didn’t seem like the best way to reach Dowoon’s heart. He was shy and quiet, and he seemed like he was probably an introvert, so why would you think he would want to come over to your apartment when a bunch of other people were there?

But you had come up with a plan in case he ended up not coming, so either way, things should work out!

Hopefully.

You invited friends and neighbors over to your apartment the Saturday before Christmas, waiting to invite Dowoon last. Maybe because you were nervous or maybe because you expected him to decline, and if he did, you knew you wouldn’t feel like even having the party, but since everyone else was already coming, you had no choice...

Either way, you waited to invite Dowoon last.

Just a couple of days before the party, you happened to run into him in the mailroom. You greeted him as you normally did, and he said ‘hey’ back with a smile, as he normally did. You unlocked your mailbox, shuffled through the letters inside... glanced at him covertly...

Your heart began to beat a bit faster inside your chest, and just when you heard him close his mailbox, you cleared your throat.

“Hey, so, uh --” you began, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him turn to look at you. “I’m having a Christmas party on Saturday. You’re welcome to come if you want. A lot of our neighbors will be there.”

You held your breath, waiting for him to say he was busy or ‘no thank you’ or something along those lines.

So, imagine your surprise when you heard him murmur, “Yeah, sure. What time?”

Your eyes widened, and you blinked, stammering out the time you’d decided on and watching as his lips spread into a tiny grin.

“I’ll be there,” he said quietly before nodding at you and then turning to leave.

It took just about everything in you not to jump around and squeal when he left the mailroom. He had actually said ‘yes’?! He was coming to your party?!

You were now officially one step closer to your Christmas present.

I won't ask for much this Christmas I won't even wish for snow, and I I just wanna keep on waiting Underneath the mistletoe I won't make a list and send it To the North Pole for Saint Nick I won't even stay awake To hear those magic reindeer click 'Cause I just want you here tonight Holding on to me so tight What more can I do Oh, Baby, all I want for Christmas is you

It was Saturday evening, and your party was in full swing. 

You weren’t surprised that Dowoon hadn’t arrived yet; you figured he certainly wouldn’t want to show up early in case he was the first one there and had to make awkward small talk with you. In a shy person’s eyes, it was much better to show up to a party late since it upped the odds that someone you knew would already be there.

While you weren’t surprised, you were anxious. You hoped he hadn’t said he’d come just to be polite but he actually wasn’t going to show up. As you flittered around your apartment performing your hosting duties (filling up snack bowls, chatting with friends you hadn’t seen in a bit, etc, etc), you couldn’t stop your eyes from darting to your front door, even when nobody was opening it.

The past two days had just been so filled with both anxiety and longing that you were almost to your breaking point.

Ever since Dowoon had accepted your invitation, you’d let yourself hope that your one Christmas wish could actually come true -- would actually come true -- and you now so desperately wanted to become closer to him that if you didn’t, if he didn’t show up tonight, you would be more disappointed than you could remember being.

Truly, all you wanted for Christmas was him. But you’d done your part. You’d invited him here tonight, and now all you could do... was wait.

All the lights are shining So brightly everywhere And the sound of children's Laughter fills the air And everyone is singing I hear those sleigh bells ringing Santa won't you bring me The one I really need Won't you please bring my baby to me I don't want a lot for Christmas This is all I'm asking for I just wanna see my baby Standing right outside my door

“Yeah, go for it!” you grinned when one of your neighbors requested turning the volume of the music up so all the guests could engage in a sing-along.

Honestly, you really didn’t care what everyone else did at this party. You only cared if Dowoon showed up!

As everyone gathered around the Bluetooth speaker (well -- not everyone; some of your neighbor’s kids were playing with the toys they’d brought and giggling in the most adorable way), you headed into the kitchen to prepare some hot chocolate and coffee and start putting some Christmas cookies on a tray. If your guests were going to be caroling, you figured they should have some appropriate refreshments.

Just as you set the kettle down and flipped the switch to start it, you heard the telltale squeak of your front door opening. As they had been for the past hour or so, your eyes flew to the door to see who was --

Oh, god. 

He was here.

A smile pulled at your lips immediately, and when Dowoon’s gaze landed on yours, your heart began to race inside your chest.

A bashful expression, one you knew well by this point, immediately appeared on Dowoon’s face, and the tips of his ears began to turn red. But he started walking over to you anyway.

And it wasn’t until he was about halfway to you when you realized he was carrying something. A small, wrapped box.

Your heart started beating even faster. What could it be? You hadn’t told him to bring anything, so whatever it was, he had brought it of his own accord.

And that made you more excited than you were willing to admit out loud.

“Hey,” you greeted somewhat breathlessly when he finally arrived next to you in the kitchen. “You made it.”

“Yeah, it was a long trip,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“No, you’re not late at all,” you assured him, leaning your hip against the counter as you faced him.

Dowoon simply smiled shyly at you before shifting his gaze down at the box he was holding. “I, uh...” he began.

He cleared his throat and moved his weight from one foot to the other awkwardly, causing even more heart palpitations. He seemed nervous, in a good way.

“I got something for you,” he murmured, his voice just loud enough for you to hear over the singing and laughing but soft enough so nobody else could. He held out the box toward you and just barely met your gaze.

“Oh -- thank you,” you replied as you tried not to smile like a complete idiot. “That’s so sweet. You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Well, I... I wanted to,” he replied. And then he rose his eyebrows slightly, clearly waiting for you to open it.

You took it from him and began to gingerly unwrap it, wanting to save the paper solely because it was Dowoon’s. He had (presumably) taken the time to wrap it for you, so it was now the most special wrapping paper in the world.

Once you’d carefully broken the tape and taken the paper off, you lifted the lid on the small, white box. Inside was a colorful glass ornament shaped and painted to look like a cupcake.

“You’re always asking me for baking ingredients, so I figured you like to bake,” Dowoon explained as you delicately lifted the ornament out by the ribbon loop, holding it up so you could admire it.

While you didn’t actually love to bake, you had come to enjoy it since you’d started finding recipes with ingredients you didn’t have so you had a reason to knock on Dowoon’s door. And now that Dowoon had gifted you with a cupcake ornament because he thought you liked it? Well, you would probably end up opening your own bakery one day.

“Dowoon,” you grinned. “This is so thoughtful. Thank you so much.”

And then you realized you hadn’t bought a gift for him.

“I don’t have anything to give you in return, I’m so sorry, I didn’t --”

“No,” Dowoon interrupted, and you noticed the tips of his ears began to turn red again. “You -- you don’t have to get me anything. Inviting me here tonight is my present.”

Your heart suddenly went from beating uncontrollably to not beating at all.

Was he... saying what you thought he was saying?

“Inviting... what do you mean?” you managed to stammer out.

“I haven’t been able to work up the nerve to really talk to you,” he explained with a bashful shrug. “When you invited me to your party, I figured it was the perfect opportunity to finally -- finally get to know you.”

After hearing his words, you weren’t quite sure how you were still standing. Or, at the very least, how you hadn’t dropped and shattered your new ornament.

“Really?” you whispered hopefully.

He nodded, and it was all you could do not to throw your arms around him and confess your feelings right then and there.

“I want to get to know you better, too,” you said instead.

While Dowoon’s smile remained shy, his eyes lit up when you returned his sentiments, and your heart soared and leaped up into your throat.

And... you might as well just be honest.

“I actually threw a party just so I could invite you,” you admitted with a chuckle. “You seem shy so I figured it might be easier than something one-on-one, and --”

Dowoon interrupted you by reaching over and taking the ornament from you, his fingers brushing over yours.

“Should we... go hang it up?” he asked with a cautious lilt to his voice.

You took a breath and then nodded, your lips spread into the widest, brightest grin possible. “Yeah,” you breathed.

I just want you for my own More than you could ever know Make my wish come true Baby all I want for Christmas is you All I want for Christmas is you, baby 

Dowoon stood closely next to you as you slid the ribbon onto one of the few bare branches left on your Christmas tree, and your arm brushed against his when you took a small step back to admire it.

“It’s perfect,” you said. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dowoon murmured. “...Merry Christmas.”

Your breath caught in your throat because you had the strongest urge to turn and kiss him... so, you did. You looked over at him, you leaned in, and you placed a quick but sweet kiss on his cheek.

“Merry Christmas,” you replied.

Dowoon’s ear turned even redder than it had been before, and you almost regretted your actions...

But then you felt his fingers brush against yours. You felt him gently take your hand, linking your fingers together.

And you let out a huge sigh of relief.

Your Christmas wish had come true -- his Christmas wish had come true -- and... you had a feeling you were going to be baking a lot more cupcakes in the future.

But that was more than fine with you.

[curious-minx]

Bob’s Burgers Gave Me Brain Worms and the Simpsons go on a....sigh....Roman Holiday.

Fell victim to nostalgia. 

Cowering in my golly gee cherry sour romper 

People don’t understand the concept of me and I  only understand that the loop we’re living in is finite 

A gesture of lives being eroded by slick white supremacy and male mediocrity that makes up the vast largess of subversive comedy. TIDES ARE SHIFTING!  Get lost in the marsh, mucking and wallowing in my indifferent harrowing pale plaster. Sunday Night on Fox is a excavation sight where the mummified and resuscitated adult cartoons come out to play, let’s check in on two of Americas leading families.

//////////

White men are impersonating men of color  and minorities in virtually every single Western comedic vehicle. Overriding all rhyme and reason, a racial sickness gnawing away at mucous membrane. A racial insensitivity of constantly pointing out racial insensitivity. This is not my space. I should move on, but god dammit I just want a single adult animated cartoon devoid of low middlebrow minstrely and the abysmal state of the  Voice Acting Empire Vacuum (VAEV) . Racial mimicry is stenciled into the vast majority of animated sitcoms and all “alternative” comedy targeted exclusively at white college aged men and the world suffering alongside them. We as a nation are currently on a lethal joy ride, the guide a White Supremacist who happens to be the most beloved celebrity in America. The man/woman/trans/nonbinary figure is falling asleep in a bed made of face oils and ghoulish make-up kits you can trust the brandname Killian Cosmetics a Canadian spite factory (The Shout Factory refused to provide a comment). 

We’ve entered a Spider-Verse and are getting a dose of Soul for Christmas, but it is nowhere near enough! Adult Swim cannot revive Tucca and Bertie back fast enough. The only example of what could be good and right with an animated sitcom. Sure, there’s The Boondocks, which is returning at some point hopefully in the near future, but it’s still not enough. There is clearly a need for an animated sitcom created by someone that has not been aboard the Lolita Express, that is the bare minimum. Dan Harmon attends a board room meeting with a lifelike premise that wows the world, but he’s got great friends and runs in circles of comedic voices that should also be given a shot. 

Acting freely and organically face to face is going to be an uphill battle for years to come. Animation is difficult and the labor practices are vile and exploitative against the artists that make the silly apparitions break our hearts. I am a coddled millennial that wants ever so badly to shotgun the phrases “raised by a Gameboy, raised by ROMs, raised by reruns, raised by blowup mattresses floating inside guests bedrooms, raised by horny postmodernism, raised by otaku teardrops, raised by candy coated make believe economic theory,” and someone I avoid blacking out. 

Watching the recent offerings of BOB’s BURGERS and the simpsons I also stirred deep wells of black out desire. Yet I am not going to convince you of why the episode Worms of In-Rear-Ment was a subpar offering of some sort of essential viewing Golden Age of Television (I’m sorry tv critic brigade but actual human beings usually have no idea what I’m saying whenever I bring up the Golden Age of Television, but I will become one of you and devour the pop cultural rhetoric that best suits the occasion). At least the opening store gag for the episode was A Hedwig And the Angry Inch related pun, which is probably the highlight of the whole episode. In a recent list posted by Vulture: (https://www.vulture.com/news/100-sequences-that-shaped-animation/) and article I spent the entire day reading. That is where my level of cognition is at right now. Some of you may have coded your way to the next big American Way, others are already fluent in every language and are now stumbling through Navi, whereas I am transcribing and slobbering all over a fairly comprehensive of history of animation? These sort of self deprecating digs are so last Quarantine. 

There were no such moments to be found in “In-Rear-Men,” but it’s ridiculous to hold a farting rub your butts together kind of show to the same standards as something more refined like South Park (X_X I> I surrender).A bottle episode around butt worms is a rough premise and without any sort of B-narrative to speak, and this is coming from a show who can dedicate a whole side plot into meaningless charades with ease and charm in every episode. Linda’s as a whole  feels Flanderized or at least a far inferior flimsier version of Linda that we’re accustomed to in this episode. Primarily regarding Linda’s insecurities around motherhood which check out, but that she is concerned about the kids’ Cs and D saturated report card does not read as an authentically Linda moment. Then there’s also the unnerving factor of making the Belchers unabashed super spreaders besides Louise, which certainly reads, but Tina is usually a safety stickler and in this episode she is literally rendered useless for the entire episode. When did I suddenly tune over into an Oblongs rerun (spot the reference! Don’t make me sick)? Personally grossness for grossness sake is a major turn off and I’m too much of a prude to accept front row tickets to the filth symphony. This episode would not be complete without an imagination fueled  musical number with Linda and a symphony of rectal worms. Somewhere along the line the show’s use of musical numbers stopped feeling fresh and fun and more like a safety valve deployed to distract and assuage viewers from the broken seams. And where was Teddy?!  Is Teddy’s role going to be greatly reduced because of the distant recordings? Here’s hoping its only onwards from here and I don’t care if its upwards or downwards I just don’t want to focus too much on farts and shit, and that’s my scoop. 

TWO HAMSTERS THAT WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS EPISODE OUT OF 5

——

The Simpsons’ “I, Carumbus” the second episode of season 32, strangely, also completely sidelines its daughter/sister character  completely disregarding Lisa, because, of course, this being (a)historical drag piece. This is also an episode where one of the remaining Monty Python members’ Micael Palin is relegated to nothing but exposition reading. Rome is burning. California is on fire. I’m just not feeling this. My nose is too delicate and these Simpsonian brutes want to plow and smack me in my nose with the Trump and the Roman emperor parallels and we’re just having a good time making slave jokes. The episode is still fairly watchable but surprisingly gross in its violence, which is to be expected with gladiatorial antics, but this is not fun violence done with rhythm or panache it’s mostly there to make sure you as a viewer still have a pulse and test that you are paying attention.  A joyless joke machine puttering along its own vibrant pastel cushy budgets that allow the visuals to allow for more ambitious episodes, but at least the Simpsons has the nerve the start and episode with the family out and about somewhere whereas the Belchers are rooted in place. Starting to see why other bigger paid corporate publications don’t bother themselves with this tired and worn down clunker of a series, but hey Carl has a new voice actor, Alex Desert, who also gets to be a slave version of Carl this season as well, oh fun. 

Skip. 

Trudging on. 

[bubmyg]

dinner and a photo booth - ksj

pairing: seokjin x reader

genre: strangers to lovers, non idol!au

word count: 3,227

summary: you’re volunteering at a children’s carnival and no one is using the photo booth despite the man overseeing it’s best efforts so now you’re crammed in this tiny area with said man or why do all these little kids think I’m dating “Mr. Jinnie”?

a/n: part 6 of to lovers! the rest of the series is linked on my masterlist :-) only one part to go ladies jlajsdlfj

The photo booth was, well, a photo booth, a tiny grey box with a black curtain to enter and a tiny slot that printed the pictures afterwards. Someone had plastered heart stickers to every inch, ones that looked straight from a children’s coloring book and would likely have to be peeled individually by an unlucky staff member before the device was sent back to it’s company. A woven basket sat outside the entrance, loaded with feather boas, over sized sunglasses, glittering heart and mustache decals hot glued to dowel rods. There was a makeshift sign, much like the one in front of your card table, that advertised the price of two tickets for a roll of four pictures of their liking.

You’d been busy prying pipe cleaner hearts off the red and pink painted soda bottles of your ring toss game, dishing out handfuls of candy in between, to really notice the patronship of the photo booth adjacent to your stand. Yet, every time you got a breath in the line of starry eyed children to survey the gymnasium, the volunteer assigned to that particular activity seemed to be begging for someone to hand him two flimsy pieces of paper.

“It’s so much fun, I promise,” He was telling a tiny girl with two, dark pigtails. To prove his point, he smacked one of the mustache decals over his upper lip, letting the glittering red shift with his tilting head, “See?”

She giggled but she didn’t take the bait, letting her friend drag her off by means of clasped chubby fingers.

You couldn’t help but do the same as the student, covering your mouth with the back of your wrist as you watched pure, unadulterated outrage meet the disappearance of his eyebrows into black fringe, the comical widen of his irises, the perfect circle his plump lips made.

You watched his outrage morph into delight before your stuttering gaze and you only realized he was staring directly at you when he called loudly, “Do you want to take a picture?—” His laughter wheezed when you startled, shoulders shrugging, palms open, “—Only two tickets. Might make an exception for a staff member though.”

“Not right now,” You recovered, soft laughter shaking your shoulders, “Maybe later though!”

He continued to grin at you, dropping his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, “Just tell them you need to see Seokjin at the photo booth when you’re ready.”

You offered a thumbs up, “Y/N from the ring toss booth might take you up on that offer.”

“Uhm, miss…” You jumped at the innocent pat of a hand on your wrist, finding the innocent eyes of two young boys looking at you. “...could we have our prize? Please?”

Your frantic dish of heart shaped, chocolate candies was only heightened by what you quickly realized to be Seokjin’s hearty laughter in the distance, entirely endeared by you.

The second hour of your shift picked up in traffic and your lapses in time between groups of doe eyed children dwindled to none until you were left helping a constant line of students. There’d been minimal panic moments, just a gentle apology at the awaiting girl and her mother when you needed to refill your treat jar and a dash away to a supply closet in the far corner of the gym to retrieve new pipe cleaners to replace a broken heart ring.

You stole glances at the photo booth keeper, Seokjin, while groups of children took turns at your game. He’d added accessories to his paste on mustache, a velvet top hat with a purple and red feather sticking out from it jammed over black pleats of hair, a pink boa dramatically draped into the crook of his elbows, a giant heart taped to the center of his chest.

He seemed to have a singular taker through the entire an hour, a couple, parents, the man taking the hat off of Seokjin’s head with a wink as his wife buried her face into a red boa. Disappointment etched his features as he took their tickets, ones to get their children out of the gym quicker rather than later, nose wrinkled at the bridge as he explained the process to deaf ears of two middle aged adults already clambering inside the photo booth.

Seokjin caught you staring at him when he turned to deposit the tickets into a clear plastic tub, mouth joining the bridge of his nose in annoyance. You just shook your head, pouting your bottom lip in faux sympathy.  

If you weren’t pressing candy into an awaiting palm, you would have offered the melody of the world’s smallest violin.

The third hour brought another broken heart ring but it didn’t matter much as the bulk of the children had wandered over to the inflatable obstacle courses that now occupied an entire half of the gymnasium. You sent a little girl, the same one who Seokjin had tried to coax into wearing a sequins covered mustache, away with extra candy, only to observe the empty walkway in front of you with a sigh.

You absently twirled at the wires of purple pipe cleaners, braiding three wires together to make one, superior ring that surely wouldn’t break for the remaining hour of your four hour shift. Your hip shifted until you were half perched on top of the plastic wrap that coated the tables, pastel pink and coated in hearts, three dollars a roll from the grocery store down the street.

The purple fur curled together but was harder to bend into shape, thus the ricochet of the material off the crook of your index finger to scrape the pointed ends of metal directly underneath your fingernail. You cursed at the feeling, thigh sliding off the table as you instead used your palms to crunch at the thin material.

A deep tut startled you, the pipe cleaners in your grasp bending directly in half as you turned for the source. Seokjin only clicked his tongue again, palms gripping the far end of the table as he leaned closer.

“Swearing and slacking off on the job?” His lips smacked together in a soft C shape, shaking his head dramatically, “Can’t believe you, miss.”

“You didn’t hear anything,” You countered, pointing the bouncing end of the pipe cleaners in hand at Seokjin, “Did I miss a child or something?”

“No—” His palm came down a top the table, two pink pieces of paper fanning out from the tips of his fingers, “—you’re ignoring me, a waiting customer.”

You regarded him under raised eyebrows as you wordlessly tossed the tickets aside into a basket, handing over the singular, not mangled heart. “Well then I’m very sorry sir. Please proceed.”

Seokjin rolled the heart in his grasp, running a pinched index finger and thumb up and down the soft surface, “How do I win and what do I win?”

“One piece of candy—” You gestured vaguely to the front of the pyramid of bottles, “—two—” the middle, ones painted a different color, “—and three. Or…” You trailed off, waving a flat palm around the rest of your work station, “...one piece of candy. If I’m feeling generous. Five tries at it.”

He hummed, crossing tight arms across his chest, the heart in his fingers spinning circles as he fiddled with it, “Can I propose an alternate prize?”

“Go for it.”

He stretched a long index finger until it prodded at the neck of the far bottle in the right corner. “If I can get it on that one on the first try, you have to come join me in the photo booth for a round of pictures.”

“I’ll take those odds.”

A smug wiggle met Seokjin’s eyebrows as he shoved himself off of the table. He coughed once into a curled fist, shaking out his wide wingspan, crouching as if on the blocks before a track meet in front of you. Shuffle steps were taken, adjusting his position, wrist taking a few practice flicks at the table just beyond the point of his oddly shaped ring.

The toss landed just as you assumed it would, sadly and short, barely catching the edge of the table before the weight of the two humps of the height sent it toppling to the wooden floor below.

His voice dropped as he crouched to retrieve the ring, “Best two out of three?”

“You can if you like or—” You wiggled your fingers for Seokjin to place the ring into, “—I’ll just give you the prize.”

His disappointment went through three stages of grief before it morphed into shining happiness again, teeth appearing as the tiniest of endearing wheezes left his throat, “Oh. Okay. Yeah?”

“I told you I was going to come over there, anyway,” You teased.

“I know but…” Seokjin shrugged, “You hadn’t came over yet.”

“Yes because some of us have been busy.”

As if on cue, a tiny boy wielding a heart shaped lollipop bounded up to the edge of the table, eyes smiling at you before his lips did and positively melting your actual heart. You reached across the table, a gentle hand on Seokjin’s waist as you pushed him to the side to greet the child, handing him his materials and explaining the point system with a tender tone.

Seokjin watched on in silence through the fourth toss the little boy took, leaning close enough only to question, “Would you like to take some pictures in the photo booth? We have some really wacky props. I might even let you keep one of the hats…”

You opened your mouth to scold the man but the little boy beat you to it, turning with two hands on his hips, sticky lollipop brushing bright red across the side of his white t-shirt but the tiny individual took no mind to it.

“Mr. Jinnie, no one wants to come to your photo booth because it’s not cool.”

The little boy turned, tossing the ring faithfully and retrieving his prize with little thought as he scampered off into the depths of the gymnasium. Your smiling eyes met Seokjin’s sulking ones.

“Mr. Jinnie isn’t as cool as he thinks, huh?”

“I volunteer at this elementary school during the week,” He mumbled it so lowly, you had to crane your neck to even catch the last set of syllables he uttered for sure, “I told everyone I’d have the best, coolest booth but instead I got assigned to the photo booth.”

“What’s not cool about the photo booth?”

Seokjin was, essentially, whining, “Me, apparently.”

You rolled your eyes, ushering him away with a flick of your wrist. “If it’s any consolation, I think it’s pretty cool. Go over there and try to collect some last minute tickets and I’ll be over once my relief gets here.”

He ignored the flapping of your palm, complaining, “You mean you won’t be here all night? You signed up for a shift?”

“Yes? That’s all my class said we needed—”

“I didn’t even get a choice!”

“Seokjin,” You rounded the side of your table to press on the small of his back, laughing, “Mr. Jinnie. Go back to work. I’ll be over in like a half hour. Promise.”

“Jin,” He took lumbering, waddling steps back across the aisle toward his, still desolate, post even as you cocked a questioning eyebrow at the back of his head. He turned with a half crooked smile, “Call me Jin!”

It was instead another fifteen minutes when you abandoned your post, your relief showing up in the form of Min Yoongi and his pastel pink sweater, a senior in your university class that had offered the volunteer opportunity to you in the first place. He’d dismissed you with a gentle, “I know how ring toss works”, an adorable smile pressing into fluffy cheeks as he unwrapped and plopped one of the chocolate hearts onto his tongue.

He didn’t appear as giddy as you assumed when you approached him, instead stopping you with a flat palm directly in front of your nose before that same thing cupped underneath your chin.

“Tickets, please, miss.”

“I’m your prize,” You stated bluntly, swatting at his wrist, “I am the tickets.”

“Oh,” Seokjin laughed again, high pitched and cute, “Right.”

You placed your hands on your hips, “Are you going to offer me any props? Come on now, I know your numbers have been pretty low but—”

The basket smacked against your chest with a soft thump, feathers and glitter spilling out onto the floor below and effectively staining your shoes for months to come as Seokjin’s dimpled cheeks continued to beam from above you.

“Take your pick miss—” A loud noise of disapproval clucked in his throat when your fingers secured around the top hat with feathers, “—except for the hat. The hat is mine.”

You settled on a heart sticker that you pasted to your cheek, one you kept in place with gentle pressure as you peeled back the curtain to the photo booth and clambered inside the tiny space.

Seokjin was big, all high pitched noises and uncoordinated limbs as he trailed after you, effectively squishing you to the far corner of the tiny bench while his hat dislodged on the roof and tumbled sideways into your lap. You caught it, pivoting to squash it back over his hair with a soft laugh.

“I think I know why no one has wanted to do this,” Seokjin grumbled, “It’s made for an ant.”

“Or we’re just bigger than the target audience which in comparison to us are ants.”

“Okay miss practical—” He nudged you with his elbow, adjusting the brim of the hat over his head, “—are you ready or not?”

You glanced at yourself in the monitor in front of you, the comical aspect not the feathers poking out of the hat much too small for Seokjin’s head or the giant heart half dangling off your skin but the sheer sight of you crunched in the corner while his shoulders seemed to swallow all the available volume left.  

“Born ready, Mr. Jinnie.”

He huffed dramatically, reaching forward to press a button on the screen, eliciting a short countdown across the screen, “It’s Jin.”

The series of four photos were terrible, to put it lightly. Seokjin was still scowling in the first frame from your improper teasing of his name from the students, the second frame his hat had fallen again and thus your mouth was open as you tried to catch it, the third frame captured the aftermath of his shock and your triumphant catch. The fourth and last was the only one you deemed acceptable, catching both of your delighted laughter in each other.

“Another round?” He nudged your shoulder with his, casting the strip of photos aside in his ticket bin, “You’re not quite...in frame.”

You didn’t have the heart to tease the massive width of his stature for being the cause of your shrinking, instead suggesting, “You go in first this time.”

Your plan to squeeze his legs together by sprawling your stature out in the remaining space failed when you ducked inside the curtain to find his arm outstretched, ready to accept the press of your torso against his side. His hand was warm as it skirted across the small of your back, steadying your stumble onto the tiny bench by wrapping around your far hip and squeezing.

Seokjin’s lips were unintentionally at your temple when he turned to address you but it only fueled the warmth that curled into the hammer of your heart.

“Is this okay?”

You quirked an eyebrow, “Depends. Is this okay with you?”

Dimples pressed into his cheeks again, “Absolutely it is.”

“Well—” You settled into his embrace, relaxing into his side and the crook of his arm around the small of your back, “—then yes. This is perfect.”

The four frames caught your embarrassed surprise from Seokjin’s petaled lips at your cheek, first frame the rise of your eyebrows, second from the curl of your palm across your lips while his seemed to spread into a soft smile, third the crinkle of your eyes in a shy grin, and fourth the press of his nose into your cheekbone while your gaze dropped to your fiddling fingers in your lap.

You’d gathered a small crowd when you clambered from the photo booth this time, Seokjin’s fingers swiping the glossy prints after your stature before a pair of tiny, prying eyes could catch on to the contents of the photos. It didn’t matter that he tried to hide it because the shy roll of your shoulders and his flushed cheeks caused one of the little girls to inquire innocently.

“Mr. Jinnie, is that your girlfriend?” She drew out the term in looping syllables of only a childlike playfulness.

“Guys, no, I don’t—”

“But Mr. Jinnie, you’re blushing,” One of the little boys pointed out with a delighted clap of his hands.

“I’m not,” He turned to you with a cocked eyebrow, affirming, “I’m not?”

You shrugged, offering a quiet you are to the tune of the soft giggles of the children that heard you.

“Mr. Jinnie! Mr. Jinnie!” Pigtails was jumping up and down from the behind someone taller than her, a wicked smile on her lips as she cooed, “Did you kiss her?”

“Okay, guys, that’s enough. C’mon, disperse,” His hand was gentle on the small of your back, “Miss Y/N is off her shift and I have uh, to walk her to her car and nevercomebackso—”

“But…” One of the children in the front full on pouted, tears welling in his bright eyes, “We want to take pictures too!”

“Yeah!” Another declared, pointing at the strip still clutched protectively in Seokjin’s hand, “Like you and Miss Y/N did!”

“You guys have to form a nice neat line before we can do that,” Seokjin watched after you with wide eyes as you went about corralling the handful of children into something that vaguely represented a line, “Take turns with each other! You don’t have to go in with someone else if you don’t want to…”

“You’ll stay?” He affirmed when you scampered back to him, glancing over your shoulder as more curious children began to fill into the rapidly growing line, “They seem to think you’re cooler than me.”

You snorted, patting his shoulder, “They should think it because they’re right—” You laughed when his mouth rounded in outrage and he nearly dropped the curtain on pigtails as she dove into the photo booth after her friend, “—yes, I’ll stay, but…”

Seokjin cocked an eyebrow, “But?”

“You owe me dinner after.”

His expression went through another three stages, something like shock mixed with relief and delight, “Absolutely I’ll buy you dinner. Was going to ask you to anyway—”

“Ask Miss Y/N what Mr. Jinnie?” The next child in line beamed up at the two of you, the end of a purple mustache clutched in his palm, “Ask her to be your Valentine?”

The endeared lines of Seokjin’s expression dulled smug in seconds as he cocked his chin at you, “Actually, yes. Will you do me the honor of being my Valentine?”

A few of the children giggled as you rolled your eyes at him, playfully shoving at his stomach.

“Yes, Mr. Jinnie. I’ll be your Valentine.”

[writings-of-a-narwhal]

Tag Games!

thanks to @abalonetea for tagging me!!! :D

i’ll tag @dogwrites and @yetmorestories!! (no pressure!!)

this is going to be under a readmore because there’s 20 questions and i have  a lot of characters oops

1. Describe the plot in one sentence.

A former queen is out to take her kingdom, Issera, back from her son, but two groups are against her; her son, his retainers, and his allies, and then in the neighboring country, a group of young people, all working to stop her.

2. Pick one sight, smell, sound, feel, and taste to describe the aesthetic for your WIP.

sight - glitter in the air. it shines harshly. lights shining in a dim room, reflecting off the air. magic that hangs like a chandelier. it’s heavy, weighs you down, fills you lungs like water. 

smell - the coppery smell of blood. blood on your hands, on your sword. you try to scrape it off but it lingers. the vaguely metallic scent follows you wherever you go, telling of suffering and death

sound - metal on metal-- swords clashing on the battlefield, knights training, armor being put on and adjusted, 

feel - burning. the burning on your skin as sand scrapes it. the burning of the sun blazing down on you. the burning of fire as it scalds your hands. the burning of rage as it races through your veins. the freezing burn of fear as it paralyzes you. 

taste - once again, blood. a split lip, a bloody nose, biting your cheek so hard it bleeds. licking your wounds after a battle.

3.  Which 3+ songs would make a playlist for your novel?

This is War - 30 Seconds to Mars

Skyfall - Adele

Meet Me On The Battlefield - SVRCINA

4.  What’s the time period and location in which your novel takes place?

heck if i know dude. it’s a fantasy world and i have like, no idea what year it is. however, people have said it gives off a renaissance vibe? there’s no cars or anything like that, and there’s no computers or telephones at this pint in time. there’s little contraptions here and there, made of gears and the like.

the two countries are Feria and Issera. 

Feria is a country of shadowy forests and babbling brooks. don’t go wander into the forest, especially not at night. there are valleys of flowers and tall grasses. the buildings are made of cold gray stones and high walls border the castle. a few giant trees sit in the center of the forest, holding secrets that no one remembers.

Issera is a desert country. the sands are gold and shining and they make your eyes hurt if you stare out for too long. the air shimmers with magic, but not the good kind of magic. and somewhere out there, there are dragon graveyards. the buildings are made of mud and sand and sometimes stone and wood. the insides are as colorful as a rainbow.

5.  Are there any former titles you’ve considered but discarded?

before it was Broken Thrones it was just ‘untitled wip’

6.  What’s the first line of your novel?

Amary scowls, head throbbing with the rhythm of her heartbeat

7.  What’s a line of dialogue you’re particularly proud of?

“The battlefield is where I feel a thrill. That area between life and death, that is my seductress, nothing and no one else.”

8.  Which line from the novel most represents it as a whole?

“This war, it’s done nothing but take.”

“That’s what war does, ala, that’s why we fight. We fight to keep ourselves from losing even more.”

9.  Who are your character(s) face claims?

i don’t have many faceclaims. i think my main one is Culraes’?? and this is that\

10.  Sort your characters into Hogwarts houses

disclaimer: i have never read/watched Harry Potter and i’m doing my best. i’m not sure about any of this. 

Amary: Gryffindor and a little bit of Slytherin

Eira: Hufflepuff

Rosar: Hufflepuff/Gryffindor

Lumi: Ravenclaw

Finlos: Gryffindor/Slytherin

Barrow: Ravenclaw? maybe with a little Hufflepuff?

Marigold: Slytherin

Athum: Hufflepuff

Culraes: Gryffindor

Warin: Slytherin/Ravenclaw

Jeris: Slytherin/Hufflepuff

Erihhn: Slytherin

Jayah: Slytherin

Jayi: Griffindor

11.  Which character’s name do you like the most?

I really love Athum’s name. something about it is just so pleasing to me???

12. Describe each character’s daily outfit

Amary - form fitting clothing. originally in dark colors but she switches them out for the looser fitting, lighter colored clothing of Issera and makes adjustments to them until they fit to her liking. thick and soft bottomed boots that strap up and secure her pants in place. a sash that has dozens of gold lines sewed into it. daggers tucked everywhere.

Eira - dresses. she wears more formal style dresses with corsets most days and most of the time they have beads or sequins decorating them, especially on the area on her torso. ballet flat style shoes when possible. her dresses always have pockets and she keeps shiny rocks in them. 

Rosar - (in Feria) dresses like Eira’s but with less sequins and beads. (in Issera) loose fitting pants that billow almost like a skirt. loose fitting shirt that is tucked into the pants. a scarf wrapped around her head when travelling. soft-bottomed boots. 

Lumi - think Belle from Beauty and the Beast before she goes to the palace. that type of dress, boots that tie up, and a paint splattered apron. bows in her hair that keep her braids tied. a simple necklace with a golden locket. 

Leaf - nothing. she’s a cat.

Finlos - (in Feria) his knight uniform, golden bronze armor and green underclothes. all engraved with leaves or trees. (in Issera) he wears pants similar to dress pants and a loose-fitting shirt with suspenders over it. the shirt is Isseran, the other things are not.

Barrow - a three piece suit, usually in the gray family, or maybe brown. dress shoes. that what he wears when he’s attending to business as a Marquess, when it comes to his secondary job, his outfits can vary by day.

Marigold - pastel and frilly dresses!! usually in pink, as that’s one of her favorite colors. she also has some rings she wears, a promise ring and an engagment ring. necklaces and earrings are also involved.

Athum - the traditional Isseran clothing; loose fitting pants and shirt, tan colored. over the shirt is a bunch of ‘wrapped’ clothing that is usually brown, but sometimes with turqoise and gold. a scarf that wraps around his head when travelling. 

Jeris - something very similar to Athum, but his ‘wrapped’ shirt is usually made of faded greens and cream. he also carries a satchel that is filled with herbs and other first-aid supplies. green scarf that wraps around his head when travelling. a dagger strapped to his side. 

Erihhn - once again, very similar to Athum’s outfit. except he keeps his things very meticulously perfect and not one thread is out of place. his colors are blue and gray, balanced evenly. he carries a leather bag, but you’ll never know what’s in it. 

Culraes - similar base clothing to Athum. his ‘wrapped’ overshirt is brown and dark red. helps hide the blood, he says. his sword is always strapped around his waist, his prosthetic arm is exposed, his face scowling. the scarf that goes around his head is usually hanging aronud his neck loosely rather than around his head.  

Jayi - well, she’s usually in her armor, which is dark blue/gray with dark chainmail underneath. a black eyepatch with dark blue embelishments. when she’s at home, she wears a shirt that follows the style of a kimono, with a little of her midrift exposed, and pants that are a little loose, all in more pastel colors or gray.

Warin - he wears something similar to a yukata in different designs, sometimes floral, sometimes repeating shape patterns, sometimes something with dragons. he wears the traditional loose pants underneath. 

Jayah - she always wears the most fabulous looking clothing. all made of silk. it’s a bit like what Jayi wears, but it’s more like a tradional kimono. it allows for a lot of movement, with the fabric flaring out at the bottom. she also wears a crown, the crown she used to wear when she was queen. and she has many necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and other things. 

13.  Do any characters have any distinctive birthmarks/scars?

so many of them do!

Amary has scars all over her body, after all she’s been hunting people down since she was 16. 

Rosar has silvery irises from cataracts. she also has vitiligo, which is just beginning to present itself.

Lumi has a giant scar on her back. it stretches from the top of her spine almost down to her tailbone. it’s like bear claw marks down it. she also has freckles on her face and shoulders

Finlos has a faint scar along his jaw. he also has a birthmark that’s on his right shoulder and it looks vaguely like a bird flying

Barrow has a birthmark that looks like a heart that’s placed over his actual heart. he has others that are like scattered islands across his shoulders. 

Athum has several scars, the most prominant is the one that goes across his chest.

Jeris has a scar over the left side of his face. it just barely missed his eye, and it stretches down to his lip. he also has numerous smaller scars from horse related accidents.

Erihhn has a few marks on his body from indicents related to his job. small burns here and there. nothing too serious. 

Culraes is missing his left arm from the elbow down, and there are a lot of scars on the end of what’s left. other than that, scars are scattered all over his body.

Jayi has scarring over her right eye, mostly covered by an eye patch when she’s out and about. next is the group of four scars on her left forearm that are dark and shiny. there are also some odd growths along her spine, though we don’t need to talk about those.

Warin has burn scars from dragonfire, but he uses his magic to hide them (think Thranduil). they mark his face, torso, and some of his left thigh.

14.  Which character most fits a character trope?

maybe uhhhhh 

15.  Which character is the best writer? Worst?

Barrow!! he writes poetry and writes the best stories!! i love him!!! Culraes is the worst. he has no idea how to tell a story. 

16.  Which character is the best liar? Worst?

Jayah is one of the best liars, though Barrow is right up there. Eira is the worst. 

17.  Which character swears the most? Least?

at this moment in time, Culraes is the only one that curses. Eira could never bring herself to curse ever.

18.  Which character has the best writing? Worst?

Warin has truly amazing handwriting. it’s so neat and fancy and pretty...

Eira’s handwriting is chicken scratch. it’s horrible

19.  Which character is the most like you? Least like you?

Lumi. I am so much like Lumi. her head is always in the clouds, she forgets things just as she goes to say them. she’s sweet but afraid. she loves cats. i am her. 

i like to think i’m nothing like Jayah. i don’t like hurting people irl and i don’t crave power the way she does. 

20.  Which character would you most like to be?

hmmm....Warin, maybe? he’s calm, collected, and thinks things through a lot. so maybe him??? idk. this is such a hard question to answer.

[nurseperriestyles-blog]

More of the Same

A/N: I do not take credit for this picture. But I did have my husband edit her hair and eye color to match Perrie. This is the closest I’ve found online, and it’s pretty close. 

This post probably had a lot of typos and issues, as per usual. I was fighting sleep when I wrote it

Template from:

https://theboson.deviantart.com/art/Blank-Character-Sheet-2-1-8-390-Questions-460031650

“I’d much rather save the heroes than be the hero.” --Perrie Styles

 General Information

Name: Perrie Styles

Pronunciation: Pear-ee

Name Meaning: Pear tree

Name Origin: French

Other Names: Pear

Gender: Female

Titles: Nurse Styles

Birth Name: Perrie Styles

Birth Date: October 17th

Birth Length: 16 inches

Birth Weight: 6 ½ lbs

Birth Place: Infirmary in Wall Rose

Manner of Birth: Natural

First Word(s): “Uh oh”

Dominant Hand: Right

Astrological Sign: Libra

Catchphrase: “Fuck.” (She says it way too much)

Autograph: Literally just a “P” with illegible scribbles after it

Handwriting: The messiest, most lazy chicken scratch ever. She has very pretty, neat cursive handwriting, though, when she tries.

ID Number/SSN: N/A

License Plate Number: N/A

Appearance

Picture: See above

Height: 5’4

Weight: 110 lbs

Species: Human

Race: Caucasian  

Blood Type: A-

Symbol: N/A

Skin Color: White

Birthmarks: N/A

Extra Anatomy: N/A

Hair Color: Pale, icy blonde

Hair Length: Just above her collar bones

Hair Type: Wavy

Hair Style: A long, messy bob

Widow's Peak: None

Eye Color: Dark blue/grey

Eyebrows: Full with a subtle arch

Nose Shape: Small and turns up at the end

Teeth: Straight and white

Face Shape: Heart shaped

Complexion: She has pretty clear skin, but around her hair line tends to get a few small bumps from sweating.  

Facial Hair: None

 Health and Image

Diet: Perrie doesn’t watch what she eats at all. It’s lucky that she finds time to eat at all.

Exercise: She walks to and from work, and is on her feel all day, but that’ all the exercise she gets

Fitness: That’s one of her least favorite words

Posture: She slouches a lot, but if she’s trying to impress someone, she’ll stand up straight

Dexterity: She isn’t very clumsy, unless she’s really tired

Reflexes: Her reflexes are better than average. She’s pretty good at dodging items thrown by hysterical patients

Abnormalities: None

Handicaps: None

Medication: None

Allergies: Cats

Diseases: None

Illnesses: None

Disorders: PTS from the fall of Wall Maria

Broken Bones: None

Wardrobe: She mostly wears cotton dresses and skirts, her nursing smocks, collared button ups

Accessories: None. She doesn’t wear any jewelry or anything because she loses it or it gets in the way

Equipment: N/A

Musical Instruments: None. She has no musical ability whatsoever

Piercings: None

Hygiene: She’s not a neat/clean freak, but she keeps herself and her hands very clean

Makeup: Nope. Perrie doesn’t have the time or skill to put on makeup

Perfume / Cologne: She keeps a bottle of her mother’s perfume that smells like roses, but she only wears it on special occasions

Scent: She washes in strawberry scented soap and shampoo. She really, really loves strawberries, ya’ll.

Scars: She has a thin, diagonal scar on her left thigh

Tattoos: None

Voice

Voice: She has a sweet, soft voice. When she’s mad or super serious about something, it’s more loud and firm

Pitch: On the higher side, but not obnoxious and squeaky  

Laughter: She has a rather loud laugh, and she snorts sometimes

Impediments: None

   Psychology

IQ: 148

Vocabulary: Perrie has a very extensive vocabulary, especially medical terms and such. She isn’t pretentious about it, however.

Memory: When she’s learning something, or needing to remember something important, she has an excellent memory. If it’s just everyday things, or when she’s really tired, she can’t remember anything

Temperament: Choleric

Learning Style: She starts by reading and studying something, then moves on to hands on learning

Emotional Stability: She is very emotionally stable. She can, however, become overwhelmed and freak out, but not very often

Mental Health: She’s healthy. She has slight PTS and can freak out in certain situations, but it isn’t debilitating.

Philosophy

Religion: None. She believes firmly in science and thinks religion is ridiculous, but she doesn’t slam it in people’s faces. She never talks about religion with others.

Superstitions: None

Spirit Animal: If she had to pick an animal, it would probably be an owl

Etiquette: Perrie is very polite and kind in social or professional situations, but she can be very vulgar in casual situations, or if she’s bothered

Alignment: Lawful good

Perception: Realist

Philosophy / Motto: “She believed she could, so she did.”

Taboos: Murder. No matter what, Perrie could never bring herself to take another’s life. It is against everything she stands for as a nurse

Vices: Cursing, spite

Virtues: Kindness, open-minded, hard-working

Character

Primary Objective: Become a doctor

Secondary Objectives: Enjoy life with her family and friends

Priorities: Her job and her loved ones

Motivation: Being the best she can be

Self Confidence: Very high

Self Control: High most of the time, but sometimes her temper can get the best of her

Self Esteem: High, though she can be self-conscious about some things

Quirks: Chewing her lip, snorts when laughing, dry hands, always has stained clothes, her hair is always a mess. 

Hobbies: Cooking, gardening, reading, sewing

Closet Hobbies: Drawing. She isn’t very good, but she likes to doodle and sketch. She would die if anyone knew

Guilty Pleasures:

Habits: Lip chewing, cursing, hand washing

Desires: Success in her job, safe family and friends

Wishes: Defeat of the Titans, to become a doctor

Traumas: Titan’s invading Wall Maria, being betrayed by close friends...

Worries: Her friends/family being hurt, failing at her job, Titans

Nervous Tics: Lip chewing

Soothers: Quiet places, her garden, cooking, sewing

Soft Spots: Kids, puppies, pretty flowers

Cruel Streaks: Perrie isn’t cruel at all, but she can be a little spiteful. She would never intentionally hurt anyone, though

Accomplishments: Finishing nursing school and becoming a nurse, saving many people, learning how to cook new things

Greatest Achievement: She will always say her greatest achievement is making her dad proud. She’s such a daddy’s girl.

Failures: Not being able to help people when the wall fell, losing patients, she feels like she fails Eren everytime he gets kidnapped. She also felt like a failure when Ty joined the Survey Corps despite her trying to convince him not to, not remembering her mother

Biggest Failure: She feels that Carla Yeager’s death was her fault. She feels that she should have gone and seen if she was okay before fleeing Shiganshina.

Favorite Dream: She dreamt that she had a giant garden beyond the Walls, and there were no Titans. She could hear her father whistling somewhere near by, and she could smell strawberries and tea leaves..

Worst Nightmare: Perrie had a nightmare that her father and Ty were Titans, and she watched them eat Mikasa and her mother. She woke up and felt like crying after it

Earliest Memory: She remembers a woman singing and a vase of roses on the kitchen table

Fondest Memory: There’s so many, but her favorite is her father teaching her how to plant a rose bush

Worst Memory: The day Shiganshina fell

Most Prized Possession: Her mother’s perfume

Most Valuable Possession: A rare cookbook Ty got her for her 19th birthday

Collections: Cookbooks

Embarrassments: She’s embarrassed anytime a guy flirts with her. She gets so flustered

Humor: Sarcastic and silly

Regrets:

Secrets: The fact that she draws, her secret savings stash,  

Darkest Secret: She doesn’t really have one

Pet Peeves: Weeds in the garden, when people can’t cook

Phobias: Germs

Greatest Fear: Losing her family/friends

Confidence: 8/10

Creativity: 8/10

Generosity: 10/10

Honesty: 9/10

Loyalty: 10/10

Insecurities: 4/10

Patience: 7/10

Predictability: 6/10

Reliability: 10/10

Responsibility: 10/10

Trustworthiness: 10/10

Common...

Compliments: “Cutie” “Healthy as a horse!” (She’s a damn medical nerd)

Insults: “Asshole”

Expletives: All of them. Every one of them.

Farewells: “See ya later” “Be safe”

Greetings: “Hi” “Hello, I’m Nurse Styles” (at work)

Mood: Tired and friendly

 Preferences

Likes: Flowers, books, working, new dresses

Dislikes: Losing things, arguments, not being right

Favorites: Strawberries, pastel colors, spring, naps

Least Favorites: Lettuce, cold weather, Military Police (Even Perrie thinks they’re assholes)

Home, Work, and Education

Sleep Patterns: Sporadic at best

Eating Habits: She eats whenever she remembers

Pets: None

Job Title: Nurse

Experience: 4 years

Work Ethic: She is diligent and hardworking

Transportation: She walks

Criminal Record: None

Dream Job: Doctor

Social

Mother: Moria Styles (deceased)

Father: Desmond Styles

Guardians: She’s of age, so none

Siblings: None

Children: None

Close Relatives: Ty Styles (cousin) Ansel Styles (Uncle) Lise Styles (Aunt)

Distant Relatives: None. She had a very small family. Her grandparents on her mother’s side only had one child, and her father’s parents had Desmond and Ansel. Both sets of grandparents were killed in the culling after the fall

Best Friend: Ty, Hanji, Eren

Close Friends: Mikasa, Armin, Petra, Levi, most of the Survey Corps

Confidantes: Hanji, Levi, Ty

Allies: The Survey Corps

Acquaintances: Her co-workers

Rivals: Hanji, but in a friendly way

Inspirations: Hanji, Levi, Erwin, the doctors she works with

Heroes: Ty, Desmond

Mentors: Grisha Yeager, Hanji

Romance

First Love: Levi

Love Interests: Levi

Marital Status: Single

Orientation: Straight

Flirtiness: She’s too awkward and shy, but she has her moments

Turn ons: Intelligence, dedication, loyalty

Turn offs: Cockiness, selfishness, “assholes” (as quoted by Perrie)

Fetishes: None

Virginity: Perrie hasn’t even been kissed. Poor kid.

Reactions

Angry: When she’s angry, she’ll have a stony expression and not speak unless spoken to. She will say spiteful things, but not very hurtful. She’ll roll her eyes and curse even more than usual.

Anxious: She’ll tear into her lip big time, sometimes she makes it bleed. She will pace a little and talk rapidly and nonstop

Conflicted: She’ll go back and forth between her choices, being very adamant that she’s made her choice, but then the next second she’s switched.

Criticized: She can take criticism very well most of the time, especially when it is from superiors. But if someone is just being overly critical and mean, she’ll bristle and call them out

Depressed: She’ll bury herself in her work, and when she’s home, she’ll hide in her garden or bedroom and avoid people

Embarrassed: She’ll avoid eye contact, blush violently, and stammer a lot

Excited: Perrie’s eyes light up and she’ll smile and jitter around

Frightened: She’ll freeze up for a moment, but then slide her mask on and fight through the fear

Happy: She’ll smile and hum and compliment everyone

 Personality

MBTI Personality Type: INFJ-A

[satisfactuality]

If you don't mind me requesting something could you write a Stoncy soulmate au using that "my soulmate touched me and now my body has splotches of bright color all over it" au please? I'm sorry if you don't know what I'm talking about haha but if you did it would be super duper to see those three nerds all colored up

So I’ve never seen this with the color coming from touching,and I feel like there wasn’t really away to realistically have this work in the series (which is what I like to do) but I have seen where anytime your soulmate gets visibly injured (bruises/cuts/burns/etc.) you get color marks in the same spots, which I feel works super well for these three! So not exactly what you requested, but the same end result with all three of these dorks all colored up, so hopefully it’s okay!

(Inspiration for the colors from these wonderful mood boards by the ever amazing @hawkinsmostunwanted)

There’s a swath of yellow spread out over Nancy’s left cheek. Sitting this close to her, knee to knee as her clever hands carefully bandage the cut on his hand, it’s all Jonathan can look at. It’s somehow easier than thinking about the thin blue stripe that streaks up and then crosses into the cut on his hand. If he concentrates on that jagged field of yellow, he doesn’t have to think about how that blue stripe matches the cut he covered up on Nancy hand, the one overlapping a soft pink line that’s far too pastel to be anything other than a soulmark. That stretch of yellow means Nancy has another soulmate out there.

Maybe he should just stop staring all together, because now that he’s looking all he can see are the edges of the pink underneath all that yellow. All he can see is the shape of that yellow, the yellow that’s smeared across his own face, the yellow that he knows belongs to Steve because he caused it. It sort of feels right that Jonathan would find out who his soulmate is by the two of them trying to kill each other. One of his soulmates, anyway. Because the other is sitting in front of him while they wait to actually try and summon a monster.

“Nancy, I-” he starts, with no idea how he planned on finishing. ‘Nancy, I know we just started talking like a week ago and now we’re waiting to maybe die fighting this thing but looks like you’re my soulmate and I’d really like to kiss you even if it’s a bad time’ or maybe ‘Nancy, I know we have a plan but maybe we should talk about this whole colors thing and maybe find some way to tell your boyfriend in case both of us die tonight because I think we both know he’s our third’ both seem too wordy and too desperate somehow.

“Yeah?” She says, and when she meets his eyes, his breath feels knocked out of him at how intense and blue her eyes are highlighted by all that yellow.

Now that he’s not so angry or heart-broken or terrified, Steve mostly just feels empty. Maybe a little nauseous. Standing out in front of the Byers house, bat resting against his shoulder, nothing that just happened seems real. The whole day hasn’t seemed real. Nothing since seeing Jonathan Byers in Nancy’s room has felt real, and he mostly just wants to go to sleep and wake up and find out everything was a dream. Except, now he has soulmates, and if this is a dream then he never wants to wake up and lose them. 

He knew about Nancy before tonight. He might not be as academic as her, but he’s smart enough to remember where he left hickies on her and notice the little matching blue marks on his own skin. He doesn’t tell her, because the part of him that’s ecstatic about her being his soulmate is overshadowed by the part of him that’s afraid he’s going to end up mis-matched like his dad. It’s a fear that feels all too real when he sees them that night. 

Jonathan Byers comes as a surprise, though. A surprise that leaves him unsteady and completely out of his comfort zone, because he’s talked to Jonathan maybe five times in his entire life and one of those times ended in a fight that left blood running into his mouth and that obnoxious yellow glaring across Jonathan’s face. 

They load into his car, silent except for Nancy’s quiet voice directing him towards the school. Mostly he feels empty. Part of him, though, the part that isn’t exhausted and blank, can’t help feeling relieved. Because he looks at the gauze each of them has wrapped around their hand and the criss-crossing lines of pink and blue on his left hand, and that fear that’s existed for so long finally settles. 

Nancy likes watching them like this, when they think she isn’t looking. Her books are spread out on her desk, and she honestly is studying but the little make-up mirror on her desk just so happens to give her a great view of them without her having to turn and give it away. They just look so sweet like this, Jonathan sitting cross-legged on her bed and Steve laying back with his head on Jonathan’s lap. Both of them honest and hesitant in a way they aren’t when they know she’s watching. 

The lighting makes it a little hard, but she can just make out the blue that fades down over both of their arms, the result of her slowly fading sunburn from an afternoon by Steve’s pool. There’s a decently sized blotch of yellow on Jonathan’s neck, mirroring the bruise Jonathan had been embarrassed about leaving behind despite how delighted Steve had been. 

Steve catches her eye in the mirror, and the light catches enough that she can just make out the fading pink mark on his cheek (Jonathan had fallen asleep on his hand earlier and left the imprint of his knuckles against his skin). He smiles at her, still sleepy and soft, before closing his eyes and letting his head fall more into Jonathan’s hands. 

She turns back to her work, letting them have their moment. Besides, she thinks, looking at the little yellow scrapes on her knuckles as she copies down notes, she has a lifetime of moments left with them.