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moonit3 · 8 months

Note

HIHIHIHI may i request yandere loser x avoidant/introvert reader or yandere asylum psychiatrist who everyone adores? fem or gn reader pls thx! <3

LOVE UR POSTS!! ෆ。

I went with the asylum physician, okay? i found the concept of it so appealing (o^^o) and you will soon find out why of it! thank for your kind words anons, it’s make me feel better whatever i read that you and my followers enjoy my work!

A HELPING HAND

➥ warnings/notices: yandere, unprofessional behvaior from a professional, wrong use of drugs, set in a mental asylum, gn! reader, mentioned depression, reader is tried unalive themselves before the main story but isn’t explicitly, manipulation, unwanted touches from the yandere.

➥ yandere! asylum physician x gn! reader

➥ synopsis: doctor kyle isn’t most friendly person around, but with you he is the best person you can count with

a/n: enjoy this one guys, probably it’s not my favorite one as i felt too struck to give it an end :( but i swear it’s good, okay? i tried.

➥ doctor kyle is an enigma to everyone at the asylum. none one knows much about the man who uses gloves all the time and holds his clipboard like it’s a part of him. he is a mysterious to everyone who has a connection to the asylum, yet there is a thing that everyone who pays more attention knows, he has a favorite patient.

➥ a young adult who arrived at the facility just a week ago after a failed attempt is the favorite subject patient of doctor kyle. you are his best and most interested person to ever exist, that’s why you have a lot of benefits that no other patient has.

➥ you can explore the gardens after eight pm (only if you are with him), eat sweetie and food that isn’t from the facility (all prepared by doctor himself!) and of course, stay around his office to spend more time with (but only if you sit on his lap). he is a good guy, even giving you remedies that help you getting better! isn’t he the sweetest guy? always taking care of you when nobody did.

➥ his fingers always holding your chin whatever he is inspecting your face for bruises (did you get in a lot of trouble with the other patients or are you just clumsy?). the way he looks at your eyes always feel so personal, doctor kyle is someone that you can count with. as long you don’t mind one his hand getting closer to your thigh, doctor kyle says he only does this to those he enjoy have around, so you must be quite special for him as he kisses you when the two of you are by yourself at his office.

➥ his lips are so soft, yet cold when he presses against your, not letting you go away til he is satisfied. it’s your way to pay me for taking care of you for so long, that what he always replied when you ask him why he kisses you. people consider doctor kyle as someone too far from doing friends or apathetic to others, but they are wrong. he is the most clingy person when you are alone with him, it’s almost overbearing feeling his cold hands over you body when you are sitting in his lap, unable to move away from him.

➥ however you don’t complain much about it, not saying a single word of his behavior to anyone as you feel guilty about it. doctor kyle is doing his best to help you with the greatest medicines and therapy, and you were planning to report him? that horrible and if you even tried it, who would believe it? doctor kyle is a remarkable member of the facility while you are a mere patient that often gets bruises, but don’t remember how. so you keep it to yourself, trying to avoid his touches when possible and he didn’t like that.

➥ seeing you refuse his affection and often raising your voice at him is enough to show that you aren’t ready for rehabilitation, to leave the asylum, to leave him. that’s why he assigned you to another place of the facility, a private one where the only people will be you and him, there none can help you getting away from his touches.

➥ a room with no windows to admire the garden nor colorful walls like the one you had before, now it’s just the blanket boring wall with cameras in each corner and all of them can give doctor kyle a great view of you, his favorite patient. it’s horrible to be watch by the cameras all the time (unless the bathroom, at least there is some decency) and it’s impossible to cover the cameras as they are too high up in the walls. most photos that he finds cute, kyle print and keep it safe inside an album of photos just of you.

➥ with him being the responsible to give you the correct medication, there will be times where you will get sleepy (despite the medication don’t have that side effect) and you will fall into his arms. and doctor kyle thinks you are quite adorable when you are hugging his body when you are sleeping. too precious, too fragile and too naive to think the world outside won’t hurt you when you leave this place. that’s why you won’t leave.

➥ doctor kyle told many lies to your parents, saying that you aren’t getting progress and you managed to lose your life during a terrible accident between another patient. mother and father were devastated, crying till there wasn’t nothing. they asked if would be okay to bring your body to be bury somewhere else, but he told about the policy of the asylum. every patient or doctor who dies in the asylum, shall be bury here. of course, it’s another lie of him, but who cares? your parents aren’t coming back here anyway.

➥ now it’s just you and him, forever.

@moonit3 writings

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dira333 · 8 months

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Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part I

When the war ended, Midoriya Izuku had proven one thing: That Villains did not need to be killed to be defeated. That you could make friends from enemies.

Touya Todoroki, formerly known as Dabi, had been one of those taken into the rehabilitation program. After one year of intense physical and psychological therapy, he's got the chance to prove himself. To prove that he can be a part of this world.

Complete fic length: 30.600 words - Masterlist

Warnings: poor mental health and resentment against past actions is mentioned, burn scars etc. as well. There is angst but this is mostly soft Touya coming back to his family...

Part 1: (1,9k)

Questioning his own sanity isn’t something he likes doing but standing in front of the tiny flower shop, Touya Todoroki can’t help but do so.

One year might have passed since the war, a year filled with intense therapy both on his body and mind, but still only a year and not a lifetime.

“Do you want to skip it?” Shouto asks behind him, eyes trailing over the display of flowers outside the shop, the amount of it almost blocking the sidewalk.

Had it been Fuyumi or Natsuo with him today, they’d already marched right inside, the two of them more annoyed with the lack of positive responses than he was.

But it’s Shouto who asked to accompany him today and Shouto like to ask for his opinion on every single thing first, whether it was which seat he preferred to sit in the car - the back seat - or how he liked his morning coffee - black, two pieces of sugar.

The flower shop is tiny, crammed into the small space between a coffee shop and a drugstore, with wooden chairs and tables covered in plants right outside the too-small windows.

He imagines the owner to be a little old lady, back arched under years of hard work. She’d throw him out the moment she realizes who he is. Or maybe it’s some uptight dick of a man, who thinks selling flowers is the hip thing to do. Which would end in a similar scenario, just maybe with more obscenities.

He’d been cleared to start work in the rehabilitation program, given a list of employers who offered a part-time job for ex-criminals for a small amount of financial assistance. But even if they offer part-time jobs, he still has to apply for them and pass. So far he’s only collected rejections.

A bell chimes as Touya opens the door and he can’t help but snort at the interior.

It feels like stepping into a tiny jungle, barely contained by the four walls of the building.

Cut flowers of all colors, sizes, and kinds are creatively dispersed between plants that grow up the walls or droop from the ceilings.

The smell is intoxicating and he can hear Shouto take a deep breath behind him.

“Hello?” He calls out when he can’t spot the owner. “I’m here for the interview?”

“Oh, of course.” A sweet, almost timid voice, calls out from the back, “Touya Todoroki, was it?”

He can hear the clicking of heels, a plant is pulled back and a smiling face appears.

That’s the first sign. This is his sixth interview this week and none of the others have been smiling at his sight.

The smile does not leave your lips when you step closer and he wonders for a second if you are visually impaired, until you offer him your hand to shake. Telling him your name, your eyes lock onto him and for only a heartbeat, he forgets to breathe.

That’s the second sign.

There is no anger in your eyes, no thinly veiled hatred for what he has done. But there is a kind of recognition in them that he knows well.

He shakes your hand as gently as he can, too aware of how small your hand feels in his.

“I brought my brother with me.” He stumbles over the words, stepping to the side as well as he can in the cramped space.

That’s the third sign. Your eyes widen at the sight of Shouto, and he spots a little shiver that you try to hide as you offer Shouto your hand as well.

Oh, well. You are cute, sure, but if you are into his brother, he won’t stand in the way.

Two hours later he steps out of the flower shop with a folder and a brand new job, starting tomorrow.

“Do you want to go for Soba?” Shouta asks next to him, seemingly unaffected by the news but phone already in hand, typing away.

Touya’s sure the family group chat is getting all the important information right now.

He looks down at the folder, his name on the official document.

He’s got a job.

Is this how it feels to be normal? To lead a normal life?

It feels a little weird.

“Sure.” He says instead. “Soba sounds good.”

🌺.

You’re humming a tune when he arrives, smiling when the bell signals his arrival.

“I hope you don’t mind that it’s second-hand.” You tell him, holding out a bundle of green fabric. “But good aprons aren’t cheap and this one’s your size. If you feel uncomfortable with it, I will order a new one.”

“It’s fine.” He slips it on, fighting with the strings in the back.

“Can I help?” You ask and he nods, teeth clamped together against the uncomfortable feeling of being useless.

“I’ll go over everything again. If you remember something, feel free to chip in. I know it’s a lot of stuff to remember, especially when you’ve never worked in this field before, so we’ll go over it every morning until you feel comfortable with it.”

The days pass like this.

You’re here before him, helping him tie that stupid little knot at the back so his apron stays on, leading him through the shop to go over the flowers.

On Friday he can name almost all of them, only mixing up the gerbera and Coneflower Daisy. He helps you carry out the flowers you choose for the display that day and mans the till the rest of the day where you teach him how to tie ribbons and how to cut stems so that they last longer.

The shop doesn’t get many customers, a few old ladies that are too blind or too polite to recognize him, always choosing the cheapest flowers for the bouquets, cooing when you add a surprise flower without charging for it.

A few students pass by who buy single-cut flowers or look at the prizes of the bigger plants and skiddle out awkwardly.

And of course, there are some guys who come in, obviously in the quest of flirting with you, but you’re either too oblivious to get the hints or too polite to act on it. Whatever the case, he throws them menacing looks until they leave.

So far, no one has made a fuss about him being there and he wonders if his new skin grafts are really that good or if people have gotten more polite since he went into therapy.

🌺.

Right now you’re walking up and down the shop, looking over the cut flowers and mumbling to yourself.

He guesses that whatever you’re coming up with at the end of your mumbling session will involve more learning for him so he leaves you to it and enjoys the chance of getting to look at you.

You don’t dress overly cutesy, not like Toga who loved making herself look younger than she was. The white shirt you’re wearing under your own green apron accentuates your curves even more than the outfit you’d worn on Monday. If only Shouto would come by like he had asked him to, even offering to buy him lunch, but his younger brother’s swamped with work.

You turn to look at him, catching him in the act of wondering how you managed to make your ponytail look so fluffy.

“Are you with your family this weekend, Toya-kun?”

“Uh… yes.” Where’s this going?

“That’s great. How many members does your family have? Including you?”

“Uh, five. My parents, my three siblings, and me.”

“Five? That’s perfect.”

“How so?”

“Oh. There’s something about uneven numbers that feels more comfortable to the human eye. There’s something about unevenness and imperfection that’s comforting.”

Something heavy settles in his gut, but not like the negative feelings he knows. This one feels new and yet familiar, like when you’ve finished a bowl of your favorite food.

“What would you have done if we’d been six people?”

“That’s a lecture for another day.” You tell him, beckoning him over to the cut flowers.

“I allow all my employees to make one free bouquet per week. This will be your first. Pick one flower for each of your family members. Don’t think too much about if they’ll match or not, just go with your gut.”

He huffs and looks at the buckets of flowers.

There are white lilies and flowers as red as his father’s hair. There are roses and tulips that are a wild mix of red and white. But wouldn’t that be too easy?

He looks again and his eye catches on a deep purple China Aster. Purple used to be the color of royalty, he remembers, and his mother had always felt regal to him.

“This one for my mother.” He says quietly and you take the flower from him.

Next is a bright yellow Gerbera for his father, just because of the dichotomy of it. The flower had always felt passive-aggressive to him, but also cheerful, like someone trying to overcome past aggression by being extra positive.

A blue silk flower for Fuyumi because blue is her favorite color no matter how much she likes to deny that and lavender for Natsuo because it’s the only medicinal plant he recognizes. Finally, he hands a light pink tulip over, the flower always reminding him of innocence and naivety, something he still connects to his youngest brother.

“You’re missing one flower.” You remind him softly.

“Oh.” He looks down at them in your hands and laughs awkwardly. “I guess I forgot myself.”

But when he takes in all the flowers, none of them speak to him and he feels himself becoming increasingly frustrated.

“Alright. I’ll allow it this time.” You say softly next to him and he turns, a little confused by your words.

“Hold out your hand, Toya-kun.” He does and you hold your own hand above it, not touching him but the space between is so small he can feel your presence.

Something heavy drops into his hand and he pulls it down to reveal a thick green bulb with a stem rapidly growing from its end.

“What’s that?”

“A peony. Sadly they’re not in season right now and this little one doesn’t want to show its face yet. You might have better luck in a day or two.” You hand him the other flowers and point at the greenery to the side.

“Now we need all the side characters to complete the picture.” You pull out different things, like Aspidistra and Bear Grass and some Israeli Ruscus Green, calling them the house they lived in, the rooms that housed them, the beds that carried them.

He’s still a little stunned by you showing your quirk like that when you hand him the greenery and point to the table next to the till.

“Now, make your first Bouquet. You know how to do it but I’ll be there to help if you need me.”

🌺.

“Oh, what a lovely bouquet.” His mother claps a hand to her mouth at the sight of the flowers. “Did you make that yourself?”

“I did, actually.” He feels immensely proud of it and just a little bit awkward about the words that follow, repeating them after you.

“Every flower resembles one of you but you have to guess who’s who.”

Rei studies the bouquet that so obviously lacks white or red and blinks in confusion.

Toya can feel a satisfied smirk growing. You were right. This is kinda fun.

taglist: @misfit-megumi

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #Passing Peonies #Touya Todoroki #Dabi #Touya x reader #Dabi x reader #Happy Todoroki #Todoroki family #Touya fluff #Dabi fluff #Angst to happy end

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arcielee · 1 year

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Freedom Song

modern Aegon Targaryen x FemaleReader Summary: Your boyfriend impresses his family when you all go out for karaoke. Warnings: Mentions of rehab, but this is purely fluff. Word Count: 1284 Author’s Note: This story is dedicated to my muse @f4ll-for-you ♥ A huge thank you to her and @aspen-carter for beta reading this story. This idea was inspired by the lovely @foxee-writes who was gracious to let me write this drabble. I just wanted to continue to add to my not-really-a-series series about modern Aegon. I write him as more of a golden retriever bf after he has successfully completely the rehabilitation and therapy that poor bb desperately needed.

For you, Aegon was an open book; he was animated when he talked, but with his silence, his mannerisms were flags to indicate what brewed behind his beautiful lavender eyes.

You watched his hands and their blatant tics of agitation, from drumming his fingers against the inside of your thighs and how it evolved into the rapid bounce of his leg; he scratched the underside of his jaw, a seemingly ceaseless itch that came with the beard he was allowing to come in.

He hated to be halted, so you did not rest your hand on his knee but moved to take his palm into your own, your touch gentle and it allowed his attention to return to the little lobby the two of you waited in. Aegon turned his head and you watched as his lilac eyes refocused onto you.

“Hey,” you said with a smile.

His relief was visceral and he reached his other hand, interlacing his fingers with your own.

We fit so perfectly together, he had said to you when he first held your hand, the memory of his words brought a rose color to your cheeks.

His own smile spread across and with his exhale, you watched some of the tension lift from his shoulders. “Hey,” he said back to you, the low crack of his voice.

“We do not have to do this,” you offered him an escape. “We can always go home…”

He pursed his lips into a line and shook his head so that his silver waves moved with. “I have already missed too many birthdays and I need to make amends. Besides,” his eyes flit over the karaoke lounge, sparsely filled and drawing in the colors of the RGB lights overhead. “This is something Daeron really wants to do, so I will do this,” and he squeezed your hand, his other hand reaching into his pocket. “Besides, I want to show them this.”

It was his sobriety chip to celebrate his eleventh month mark and you could not have been more proud.

It was little larger than a half dollar and was the reminder of the dark times that were, but also how it too shall pass. He held onto it, something he could fidget with when his anxiety flared up, but it also was a medal of honor, a token of proof to show that he had persevered and would continue just that.

The peace continued when he saw it was only his mother and siblings who showed up; his father was not in the best of health and had little energy to much of anything these days, and his grandfather was too wrapped up in maintaining what his father could not do.

You felt relieved. His mother, Alicent as she asked you to call her, obviously loved her son, but her father would get into her head about how it was best to raise them, and his siblings were aware of his shortcomings, but loved Aegon still in their very unique way.

Daeron bubbled with excitement, in part because he loved to sing but you also imagined he took pleasure in the discomfort of his older brothers, Aemond and Aegon. Aemond was a silent force, with a severe expression and dark clothes, his eye looking over their surroundings as they were led into the rented booth. And Helaena was rosy, her excitement glittered in her eyes with the prospect to sing her heart out, also aware of the discomfort for her brothers and wilfully ignoring it.

They took their seats and Daeron bounded to the stage, choosing some pop song and singing along. Aemond, long and lean, sank into a corner part of the couch, legs stanced wide and his gaze solemn, as always. Alicent and Helaena were seated together and you leaned back into the couch, watching Aegon pour over the log of songs available on the tablet; his brow furrowed and his lips moved wordless as he read through the titles, the light from the screen highlighting his handsome features.

He was aglow when he handed you the tablet. “This one?” You confirmed, your finger resting on the song.

Aegon nodded, wiping his palms against his jeans before clapping along with his mother and sister when Daeron finished. “You next?” He asked and Aegon nodded, wetting his lips with his tongue and moving to take the microphone.

Part of his rehabilitation was relearning himself, but sober. With this, he had a newfound passion for music that he had never touched before. You remembered the first time you heard him singing in the shower; you were flushed by his voice, your mouth agape when he exited the bathroom. You always encouraged him to sing, well aware of the brief reprieve it allowed him with every song he disappeared into.

And now, you leaned back to watch the reactions of his family as Aegon cleared his throat.

Daeron’s skittish giggled stopped the moment the timbre of his voice poured into the speakers, though the sound quality was what would be considered for a karaoke bar, it did not take away from the fact that Aegon could fucking sing.

His younger brother’s eyes were wide and he sank back into the sofa to watch him. Alicent’s eyes were just as wide and glassy as she took in her son, as if she was truly seeing him for the first time; Helaena just closed her eyes and swayed her head in rhythm to the music.

You dared to glance at Aemond and even his stoic nature cracked slightly, as his brow arched while he listened.

Aegon was beautiful when he sang, of course; his eyes were closed and there was color to his cheeks from the natural smile that accompanied the lyrics. He moved along with the music, his passion for this habit did not allow him to hold still.

When he finished, he slowly opened his eyes and looked at you, smiling still.

His mother and Helaena bound to their feet, clapping and singing praises, while Daeron was flabbergasted. “Holy shit, you can sing,” he managed.

Alicent flipped on her mom-mode, her dark eyes locked onto him. “Daeron. Language.”

He grinned sheepishly and even Aemond hummed a compliment, “Well sung, brother.” He had the hint of a smile to his lips.

Daeron clasped his hand on his shoulder, bright eyed with a newfound respect for his brother. “What else are you keeping from us?”

Aegon shifted his weight and glanced at you; you nod reassuringly, subtle with your smile. He reached into his pocket and presented the token.

You saw that Aemond recognized it, as he had also been present with the prior attempts of his sobriety, but his expression softened when he saw the color, a forest green, a color he had not seen in his brother’s palm before.

For Aegon, it is a wordless gesture and it is met with the support he deserved. Daeron and Helaena both threw their arms around him, smiles and congratulations on their lips, while Aemond only reached to touch his shoulder, the curl of his mouth enough to let him know he was proud of Aegon.

You enjoyed this moment, content to be a spectator, until you felt the gentle touch of Alicent as she wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you into her side. “Thank you,” she whispered in your ear.

But it was not necessary. You, like Aemond, had always been around and presented him with the opportunity, time and time again. You also knew that Aegon had to want it, or it would never work.

Most importantly, you would always be grateful for the day he had taken the help offered.

Arcie’s Masterlist

#modern aegon #modern hotd au #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfiction

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year

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hey everyone! sorry in advance for how long this is but ive just been stuck worrying i was the asshole in this situation. heres one for the jury.

i (23f) had this friend (20m) that id known since we were both kids. we were so close that we called each other siblings for like, 5 or 6 years of our lives. we didnt always see eye to eye but most disagreements were resolved somewhat easily i thought.

one thing that my friend would do, though, was try to rehabilitate people. im a woman of color, and my friend was a white man. the two of us would meet people, who would become his friends, but would treat me like a rabid dog. id show him proof and talk to these people about it pretty often, but the treatment continued. id tell my friend that i feel unsafe, and i was scared, esp with my paranoia issues.

every single time, though, my friend would say we should stay friends with these people. he believed that if we (he) earned their respect or influenced them through our friendship with them, theyd stop being racist. the only flaw in this, i saw, was that theyd never listen to me in the first place, and he would never give me a foot in the door or speak up to defend me.

this all culminated when my ex and i broke up. he had been acquaintances at best with them, and told me he didnt like them pretty frequently. id triggered myself into a meltdown one night on him, telling him the full uncensored details of what my ex had done to me during our relationship (still in therapy for it! woo!), and hed listened. he said it sounded awful, and that he had no interest in talking to them ever again. it made me feel the safest and most cared for that id felt in a while.

...you can see where this is going. a few months later, i see that hes replied to a comment from a familiar username on one of his posts. i felt guilty for even noticing, and i didnt want to ask him, but i figured it was someone else and i was just paranoid. i sent him a DM just for confirmation that it wasnt my ex.

he spent 5 minutes typing something before just saying 'yes'. i tried to pretend it was cool but it triggered not only a ptsd attack but a huge paranoia episode. i blocked him on impulse everywhere and cut contact. it was so bad i stopped talking to people for a solid 3 months or so other than my boss and therapist.

since then, hes posted some deeply hateful stuff about me, and told our mutual friends embarrassing information which convinced them to stop talking to me too. i lost my entire friend group that id had for about 5 years over this.

ive been thinking about his philosophy lately though, and i guess i can see the logic in it. im wondering if i really was as overly sensitive as he said i was about this stuff, and that i just needed to endure it more to 'fix' these people or change their minds or whatever.

so... AITA???

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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mamuzzy-creates-stuff · 5 months

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Collection of my TCW art. I mostly draw Commander Fox and Coruscant Guard, 501st boys, and through those lovely asks you sent me, other characters too. :))))

JUNE 2023

「501 shenanigans」 [ART]

「POV: Fives approaches you in 79's」 [ART]

「Anakin Needs therapy」 [ART]

AUGUST 2023

「Dar'Ad」 [AO3] + [FIC]

「Foxhunt」 [ART]

02/08/2023| Commander Fox | Blood | I drew this picture first and then and then I wanted to write a description and Dar’Ad happened. The picture takes place after some time of the snippet.

SEPTEMBER 2023

「Comfort a character: Deadshot」[ART]

03/09/2023 | OC: Deadshot, ARC Trooper Fives | Comfort a character prompt | Umbaran darkness hide the tears of the grief-weary troopers |

「Comfort a character: Cadet!Fox」 [ART & Snippet]

03/09/2023 | Cadet Fox, Alpha-17, Captain Fordo | Comfort a character prompt | Alpha is TRYING OKAY??? |

「Comfort a character: Rex」 [ART]

07/09/2023| Captain Rex, Commander Cody | Comfort a Character prompt | Hurt & comfort |

「Comfort a character: Cadet!Rex」 [ART]

10/09/2023 | Cadet Rex, and Cadet Fox aka Tintin (by Kilt) | Comfort a character prompt | Omg, this was such a lovely request from my friend, I still think about it a lot~ I really enjoyed trying out a different coloring technique |

「Comfort a character: Dogma」 [ART & FIC] + [AO3]

「Comfort a character: Fox」 [ART]

29/09/2023 | Commander Fox, OC: Headshot | Comfort a character prompt| We have a shared custody on Headshot with ithillia <3 |

OCTOBER 2023

「Red is a color of...」 [ART]

03/10/2023 | Commander Fox, Commander Thorn | …LOVE | No context, just unhinged Fox | I have many Commander Fox in my head, but this one is actually crazy like a fox.

「Bullet-time Fox」 [ART]

05/10/2023| Commander Fox, Commander Thorn, Commander Thire, Commander Stone, Sergeant Hound, Grizzer | The corrie commanders are major dorks when no one is looking |

「Fives」 [ART]

10/10/2023 | Gift for Mary <3 | ARC Trooper Fives |

「Mal」 [ART]

| Gift for Corey | Corey's OC | Precious scarred babu <3

「Happy Dogma」 [ART]

14/10 | Clone Trooper Dogma | Character reaction to post | DOGMA IS THE SWEETEST GOODEST BOY MUST PROTECC |

「Fives x Shots」 [ART]

CLONESHIP 23/10/2023 | OC: Deadshot, ARC Trooper Fives | They are in love, you honour |

「TCW x Lucky Star」 [ART]

25/10/2023 | Commander Fox | Incorrect Quote | Redrawing Kogami Akira as Fox |

NOVEMBER 2023

「Mlem.」 [COMIC]

09/11/2023| OC: Deadshot, Clone Trooper Hardcase, Clone Trooper Tup, Clone Trooper Dogma, ARC Trooper Fives, ARC Trooper Jesse | Torrent barrack shenanigans | Boys being boys | Hardcase is a kind of friend who randomly licks your face |

「I've got a birthday gift from Corey! 」 [Gift] <3

「Received a gift on my birthday <;3」 [Comic]

「Thoughts about natborn cadets」 [Photo]

18/11/2023|Commander Fox, ARC Trooper Fives | Toy Photo |

「It’s called nature, Fox!」 [Photo]

19/11/2023| Commander Fox, Arc Trooper Fives | Toy Photo | Commander Fox doesn’t like nature |

「The Captain isn't entirely satisfied with the new ARC trooper」 [Comic]

「Fox loves caf」 [Photo]

30/11/2023| Commander Fox | Toy Photo | Don’t tell him it’s chai latte |

DECEMBER 2023

「I don’t deserve you」 [ART & FIC]

「I don’t deserve you」 [FIC]

「Deadshot has one of those days」 [ART]

12/12/2023| OC: Deadshot, Clone Trooper Tup | Sketchbook | Breaking down in 3…2…1… |

「I do deserve better」 - [ART & FIC] + [AO3]

JANUARY 2024

「Commander Wolffe portrait」 [ART]

16/01/2024 |Commander Wolffe | 104th follower celebration thingy |

「Fives portrait」 [ART]

16/01/2024 |Arc Trooper Fives | Art Request |

「Deadshot reacts to Fives portrait」 [ART]

Fives x Deadshot (OC) CLONESHIP 16/01/2024 | Arc Trooper Fives, OC: Deadshot | Fives exists and Shots is melting |

「Sergeant Sinker portrait」 [ART]

17/01/2024 | Clone Trooper Sinker | Art request | I love how this little shit turned out <3

「Warthog & Tracer portrait」 [ART]

17/01/2024| Clone Trooper Warthog, Clone Trooper Tracer | Art Request | How dare you make me invest in cloneboys again just to get my heart broken!!! >:(((( |

「Big Bad Wolffe」 [ART]

21/01/2024 | Cadet Rex, Cadet Wolffe | Art request | Soft babybabus <3 |

[Rex with a lightsaber] [ART]

24/01/2024 | Captain Rex | Art request | Let me see what you have! - A lasersword. - NO! |

FEBRUARY 2024

「Dar’ad part II」 [ART] + [AO3]

「Sketchdump」 [ART]

FIVES x DEADSHOT ECHO x TECH MAZE x BOOKS CLONESHIP 02/02/2024| ARC Trooper Fives, OC: Deadshot, ARC Trooper Echo, TBB Tech, Alpha-26 Maze | sketchbook | Various sketches about cloneboys + JungleSkirmish!AU lore |

「Obedience/Devotion」 [ART] + [AO3]

「I love you」 [ART]

「IT’S COFFE TIME!」 [ART]

08/02/2024 | Commander Fox | ASDF movie parody | It’s Muffin time! song parody |

「Clones in the closet」 [ART]

15/02/2024 | Captain Rex, ARC Trooper Fives, ARC Trooper Echo, ARC Trooper Jesse, Clone Trooper Tup, Clone Trooper Hardcase | Characters react to post | My brain hurts :DDD |

「City boy gets intimidated by war veteran’s huge equipment」 [ART]

Not a cloneship, but I’m a very mature person and the dialogue is purposefully written as cockmeasuring 18/02/2024 | Clone Trooper Kix, OC: Headshot | Kix tries to befriend the corrie medic |

「Life after O66」[ART]

19/02/2024 | OC: Lily, OC: Blaze, OC: Vorn, OC: Headshot, OC: Pons, OC: Angel, Commander Fox, Commander Thorn, Commander Thire | ARTs and rambling about OC’s and how they life will be after Order 66 | WARNING: Mentions of canon character's deaths, mentions of suicide, actual suicide and visual depiction of it, nudity but genitals are not visible. Coruscant Guard has cultish vibes.

APRIL 2024

「Finger-sketches」 [ART]

25/04/2024 | OC: Deadshot, Clone Trooper Tup, Clone Trooper Dogma | Sketchbook app | Quick finger-sketches drawn during empty hours |

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thaisibir · 1 year

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the Phantom Thieves as medical specialties

disclaimer: I’m in the medical field, specifically anesthesiology, and I’ve worked in the ER/emergency medicine before pursuing anesthesia

Ren: emergency medicine -jack of all trades -the Swiss Army knife of medicine -can do everything from suturing cuts to reviving people from cardiac arrest -bikes to work -hits up the batting cages to decompress -has seen some real gnarly shit -can keep a cool head when someone comes in actively dying

Ann: dermatologist -has the bougie lifestyle that everyone in the medical field wants -no calls, no weekends, always living her best life -perpetual glowing complexion -knows a billion clinical terms to describe skin -knows the perfect skin care regimen for all her friends

Ryuji: PM&R (physical medicine and rehabilitation) -helps patients literally get back on their feet -knows all the therapies to correct gait and posture but his own posture is shit -always reminds his friends to stretch -knows every conceivable way the human body can break (mostly from personal experience) -almost went into orthopedic surgery but didn't want to do more school than he could take

Morgana: anesthesiologist (my field!) -makes you go to sleep -won't shut up about patient safety/advocacy ("watch your health!") -would sedate a combative uncooperative kid with a ketamine dart -expert at glaring at surgeons over the sterile drapes -would complain out loud if the medical student is chosen to close skin -more than happy to cancel cases and make surgeons throw a fit -crossword puzzles

Yusuke: pathologist -attention to detail, visually oriented -studies pretty slides all day -constantly mesmerized by the patterns in microscopic cells and tissues -always in search of the perfect beautiful specimen

Makoto: neurosurgeon -been in school/training forever -lives in the operating room -the queen of said operating room -in a profession that demands both physical stamina and immaculate precision -would stand for 10 hours straight correcting someone's spine with screws and rods -would make anesthesia stick an IV in her arm and hydrate her with an IV bag so she can keep operating (yes I've done this for a neurosurgeon once. She was pregnant too. Neurosurgeons don't fuck around.) -appointed as chief of surgery and regrets it sometimes

Futaba: radiologist -rich in the dark -never sees sunlight -stares at the computer all the time -has to be dragged outside by her friends so she can get her daily vitamin D -knows her patients inside and out without speaking a word to them -goes ham on trying out the latest medical tech -hangs up (generic) CT scans and X-ray images in her room for the aesthetic

Haru: pediatrician -wears cute cartoon badge holders -also wears cheery pastel-colored scrubs -keeps calm and polite even before the most anal unreasonable parents -can soothe any crying baby in seconds -very sharp eye for catching signs of child abuse -would rather take the lower salary working with kids than dealing with adults

#persona 5 #persona 5 headcanons #ren amamiya #ryuji sakamoto #ann takamaki #yusuke kitagawa #makoto niijima #futaba sakura #haru okumura #p5 morgana #p5r #some of these are exaggerated stereotypes just for fun #morgana is basically anesthesia i love that for him

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destinygoldenstar · 5 months

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I Drew My Not So Berry Mint Heir

I love her design to bits. And yes I’ll be doing more drawings of some of my favorite stuff with her gen.

In case you’re wondering of why I named and designed her the way I did:

Pepper Nosobirrie. Pepper as in peppermint, which, well, mint gen. And Nosobirrie is pronounced ‘No-saw-burr-ee’, but it’s a play on the challenge name ‘Not So Berry’. It’s just lettered differently so it sounds like a legitimate last name someone could have.

Yeah, I mostly tried to NOT copy other people. So instead I played more into the mischief aspect of the personality rather than the logic. And she ended up becoming a bad girl. Which, well, unique approach.

As of the time I’d this post, she got two additional traits along with the required ones: Neat, and Evil. So yeah, bad girl scientist. This character is pure chaos.

I KNOW the pink fringe is not mint. I know there’s hairstyles that don’t have the pink fringe. But I love it on her and adds some dynamic look to her. While she’s still obviously representing her gen color: Mint.

My backstory for her is that she was an aspiring scientist ever since she was a kid, dreaming about making inventions and getting aliens attention. But her inventions never worked properly, because she was a naturally chaotic person, and they would always blow up in her face and lead to disaster. One invention failure even got her sent to PRISON. At 18. (I headcanon shes 21 at the time the game starts)

From there, her parents were quick to disown her. Which is why they aren’t in her family tree. (I wanted to make an in story reason for it besides ‘the game is like that cause she’s a CAS made character’) So Pepper got to reinvent herself in prison, make some friends who are like her and like her chaotic side (I also designed some of them as characters), and decided to fully embrace herself as ‘the bad girl scientist’, with mint as a staple to make herself known.

She also has a cat (that I made in CAS with her). A mint cat named Bubbles. She’s a rehabilitation cat that was in prison with her, and was assigned to her for therapy. They let her keep Bubbles cause she was so good with her. Bubbles is a cat that loves to think she’s tough and feared, but humans just find her cute and cuddly and don’t believe the tough act at all. Bubbles is Pepper’s partner in crime and her best friend.

So now, (when the game starts), Pepper and Bubbles are let out of prison and on their own. She moves to the city and gets an apartment in the Spice Market, ready to make her new life and pursue her new identity.

I also headcanon, due to the required traits:

Vegetarian: She has food allergies. She hates eating unless she has to. (Legit, at the time of this post, she’s a week till age up to adult, and is still as scrawny as when I made her. And she only worked out twice so far.)

Jealous: She’s demi-romantic. She’s allosexual, definitely, don’t question that, but while she is many chaotic things with her bad girl image, a player is NOT one of them. She needs to find the right person, the perfect person in her mind, for her to get that crush. When she does, she pines for that HARD. You may even find her heart or gold, cause she’s so bad at having the rizz to communicate.

Materialistic: She LOVES her crystals. She has a massive crystal collection in her inventory all the time and decorates her house with crystals all the time. Shiny rock? She loves it. She doesn’t part with it at all. She can tell you all about gemstones like a little geek.

She’s also actually pretty weak. Despite being in prison, she doesn’t have a lot of muscle. (She’s enemies with her apartment neighbor ; lost all the fights) She more so wins her fights with her brains. She’s more brain than brawn. Being a scientist, she’s intelligent like that.

I’ll draw more, as well as Bubbles, and some of the other outfits I made her, and some of my favorite moments in her gen of the challenge.

#not so berry #nsb mint #sims community #the sims 4 #sims #sims 4 #my sims #the sims #sims not so berry #not so berry challenge #not so berry mint #my art #character designs #nsb challenge #peppermint #Pepper Nosobirrie

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decolonize-the-left · 2 years

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For disability awareness month I'm gonna give y'all a run down of Cummings v Premier Rehab Keller

""The high court ruled {April 28, 2022} 6-3 against Jane Cummings, who is deaf and legally blind, determining that emotional distress from discrimination is insufficient harm to warrant a lawsuit under four federal civil rights laws.

Cummings sued after Premier Rehab Keller in Texas declined to provide her a sign language interpreter at her physical therapy appointments. The therapy provider said that Cummings could use notes, lip reading and gestures to communicate instead.

Cummings argued that Premier Rehab Keller discriminated against her on the basis of disability, violating the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 and the Affordable Care Act, which apply to facilities that receive federal funds like the therapy provider does."

In addition to the Rehabilitation Act and the Affordable Care Act, the ruling applies to the Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972.

In dissent, Justice Stephen G. Breyer noted that discrimination often harms in ways that are purely emotional.

However, a federal judge determined that Cummings’ only injuries were “humiliation, frustration and emotional distress” and indicated that the laws in question did not allow for the recovery of damages in such cases. A federal appeals court affirmed the ruling and a majority of the Supreme Court agreed."

source

What are the rights affected, exactly?

Rehabilitation Act of 1973:

requires affirmative action in employment by the federal government and by government contractors and prohibits discrimination on the basis of disability in programs conducted by federal agencies, in programs receiving federal financial assistance, in federal employment, and in the employment practices of federal contractors

The Affordable Care Act:

To provide essential health benefits as ambulatory patient services; emergency services; hospitalization; maternity and newborn care; mental health and substance use disorder services, including behavioral health treatment; prescription drugs; rehabilitative and habilitative services and devices; laboratory services; preventive and wellness services and chronic disease management; and pediatric services, including oral and vision care

Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972:

requires that no person be excluded from participation in, denied the benefits of, or subjected to discrimination on the basis of sex under “any education program or activity receiving Federal financial assistance.”

Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964:

prohibits discrimination on the basis of race, color, or national origin in any program or activity that receives Federal funds or other Federal financial assistance.

What does that mean?

Lack to provide equal accessibility is no longer ableism under federal law and

Intentional inaccessibility discrimination is okay so long as there is no material or physical affect

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autisticaradiamegido · 1 year

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day 140

so apologies in advance, this one's a bit of a bummer. under a readmore because it is both sad and lengthy.

my grandmother passed away today. she was an artist in her younger years, and she loved her dog more than anything. so i felt like i should draw something that she would have appreciated, which is how we got to this portrait of her miniature poodle, teddy.

she had been living intermittently between the hospital and a rehabilitation facility for a few weeks already, so rest assured teddy is already settling comfortably into his new home with my aunt, uncle, and cousins.

he also has therapy dog training, because my grandmother had initially planned to take him around to local hospitals to visit and comfort the patients. but alas, despite passing nearly all of his training with flying colors, he was simply too full of love, and could not stop jumping up into peoples' laps. which is not great when you are visiting people who may be a bit too fragile to handle the sudden weight of a medium sized dog. so while that career never got off the ground for him, he remembers his training and is helping everyone a lot, even in his own old age.

this, i think, is the most fitting way to remember my yiayia. she was a person characterized largely by her immense love of and compassion for the people around her. to the point that she instilled this value in her DOG!

it is for this reason, among others, that she was one of the coolest people i've ever known.

#day 140 #year 4 #death cw

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blastedoffagain · 2 months

Note

The trainer holds her hand out for the everstone securing in a side pouch saying sincerely, "Thank you," before quickly adding, "oh no, can't be stopped now the ball is rolling as they say," a glance to the pokemon looking up at her as she looks away, "your concern is heard," she looks at Ama, "what resources do you have then, what help care and" she waves a hand, "general enrichment and engagement can you confidently offer in this situation"

Perhaps a bit incredulously, Ama makes a quick glance back to the sprawling clinic behind her. The wide-open main room is fitted with human seating and a variety Pokémon beds, plant pots occupied by content spotted mushroom Oddish and leaved Shroomish, scratch-towers to be climbed, and clear bins full of toys despite the several already out for play. A Rowlet perched up high watches curiously as a cluster of five or so young Yamper engage in a tug-of-war with two Rockruff, one fox-like and the other grey in color, another Rockruff, a pink and white Yamper, and a Growlithe all barking encouragement to both sides. Through a glass door labeled "Quiet Room," a large, horned Jolteon with odd mint-green markings can be somewhat seen napping with a pair of blue and brown Eevee, all completely undisturbed by the ruckus and clamor that rises when the elated Yamper clutch celebrates a win. A window to the trainer's right frames a standard-sized battlefield, where a bat-winged Swablu spars with a blue-ish Floragato for a small audience of various other Pokémon, a tall and rather intimidating human carefully watching over the match.

Our clinic is well-equipped to care for Pokémon, including those with disabilities or who otherwise fall outside the standards for their given species. We structure diet and nutrition based on individual needs, including using foods specialized by elemental type. We possess multiple rooms and large outdoor areas to ensure no one is overstimulated or forced to share space with someone they don't get along with, and we--of course--do work with socialization to combat these issues as they arise. In addition to our charges, we keep a staff comprised of both human and Pokémon, including therapy and service 'mons of varying specialty. We even have a Professor on-site more often than not, and another memeber of staff is training to become one. Your little one would be able to battle to their heart's content in a safe and controlled environment. Their evolution would be allowed to take place if at all still possible; which, there is the chance they are permanently stunted. We have a Riolu caught mid-evolution under different circumstances, so we have experience monitoring such a case.

Ama seems to think for a moment before speaking again.

This centre was started for the rescue and rehabilitation of abused and abandoned Pokémon, as you seem to already know. We are backed by more than sufficient funding to maintain our staff of trained carers, needed supplies, and site upkeep, in addition to behind-the-scenes administrative and legal departments. Surely, you've seen our interventions in the news now and again. They never are fun or pretty, which is why we appreciate people like you who choose to do the right thing before a situation goes badly.

#trrc #pkmn irl #pokeblog #rotomblr

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dira333 · 8 months

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Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part III

When the war ended, Midoriya Izuku had proven one thing: That Villains did not need to be killed to be defeated. That you could make friends from enemies.

Complete fic length: 30.600 words - Masterlist

Warnings: poor mental health and resentment against past actions is mentioned, burn scars etc. as well. There is angst but this is mostly soft Touya coming back to his family...

Part 3: (2,6k)

They’re halfway through planning a bouquet when you appear, the rhythm of your pulse still thrumming through his fingertips.

“Hello.” Your smile is tired and you’re holding a half-emptied coffee cup in your hand. “I apologize for drinking coffee while we talk but Touya-kun mentioned you’re a friend. I hope you can excuse this behavior, I overused my quirk a little.”

“No worries.” Hawks grins and winks and Touya all but wants to throw him out of the shop.

“I’ll let you finish the bouquet.” You step back behind the till, taking the smell of coffee with you.

Touya clears his throat to gather his thoughts again.

“Anyway, as I was saying. We did a baby pink bouquet this week, that worked pretty well with the white office if you want some lighter colors for the entryway.”

“Ugh, I’m not that into pink. How about some light blue?”

“Yeah, that works well. Or some lighter purple or red colors mixed with white or cream-colored flowers. How about yellow?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. So three bouquets for the three open offices and one larger one for the entryway. And I think we should get three bigger plants. The secretaries downstairs complained the most about the lack of plants so we should get them one and then one for our two top assistants each.” Hawks leans around him to smile and wave at you.

“Which is where we need your expertise.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” You set down your coffee and walk back out, pushing the sleeves of your cardigan back to your elbows. “What were you thinking?”

“Uh. Plants?” Hawks points towards them.

You laugh softly and Touya swallows thickly at the sound, wishing you’d pull your sleeves back down. He’s feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

“What kind of mood do you want to portray? What kind of character are you giving these to?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Horikoshi-kun is a very uptight guy and he’s lamented so much about how fake plans do nothing for the air quality. Oda-san is our oldest secretary and she’s always grumbling about something, but she said she loves plants, claiming she got every single one of her cacti to flower, whatever that means. Our two secretaries downstairs are twins who like to play pranks on newbies.”

You nod and turn to Touya. “What do you think?”

“Maybe Cacti for Oda-san? But other than that I’m not sure which plants are low-maintenance.”

“A plant can be a life-long commitment. You don’t pick your commitments by how low-maintenance they are but grow with the challenge.”

Another heavy thing settles in his gut, but this time he welcomes it, knowing he won’t forget what you said for weeks to come, stewing over its meaning.

But in this moment he stretches out his hand past Hawks open jaw and picks up a plant from the display, its perfectly round leaves bobbing with the movement.

“This one for downstairs. It looks a little silly.”

You nod. “It’s a pancake plant. Good choice. You can also ask how much light these rooms will get because we don’t want to send them to a place where they will not feel welcome. The darker the green the less direct light they usually need.”

After Hawks has left, the trunk of his car filled with three indoor plants, an order for four bouquets signed on the table, Touya’s left staring at the indoor plants.

“Everything okay?” You ask softly and he nods before shaking his head.

“Do you ever feel like you were sent to a place where you did not feel welcome?”

You don’t answer and he wants to take back his question. Before he can, however, you turn the little key on the old till and point towards the door.

“Can you turn the key?”

“We’re not closing for an hour?”

“We can close a little earlier today.” You say. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

He turns the key, too confused to argue against it. “Not really. Going home and seeing who’s home.”

“Come on then.” You beckon him to follow you, walk through the backroom and up the stairs that lead away from the backroom into the apartment block above. Your key fits into the door right above the shop and when you open it, he can’t say he’s surprised to find plant after plant blinking back at him with leaves reflecting the light of the hallway.

He follows you inside, the cheap rug tickling his feet, the air just as heavy as downstairs.

Your apartment’s small, the interior obviously cheap, but everything feels warm and comforting, like a hug from a mother or a warm blanket on a cold day.

You point to the table that’s littered with books and catalogs.

“Take a seat.” He folds his legs under the table, too aware of his surroundings. Too aware of you.

There’s another door, half open, revealing a light purple cardigan draped over a chair.

He starts organizing the catalogs and books on the table so as not to look at your back or the length of your feet as you move around the kitchen.

When the smell of melting cheese hits his nose, he speaks up.

“What are you doing?”

“Offering you a place you’re welcome in.”

You put a cup of tea in front of him. The ceramic is chipped, most likely from overuse.

It’s followed by a plate with grilled cheese sandwiches, the cheese dripping like sunshine that’s spilling out. When you take a seat on the other side of the table, you’re holding a little bowl of miso soup and put it in the middle of it all.

“It’s not much. But if you don’t mind sharing, you’re welcome to feast on it.”

He’s staring, he knows he is, but how can he not when you’re smiling at him like you’ve waited all your life for him to appear?

You bow your head and break a piece of sandwich off with your chopsticks, dipping it into the soup before you plop it into your mouth with a satisfied hum that thrums through his body.

He follows your example, a new kind of happiness singing in his bones when he chews, warmth filling his stomach when he swallows.

You don’t ask any questions, just smile whenever he looks up at you, until the plate and bowl are empty and the tea is gone.

“Why did you open a flower shop?” He asks even though the question is kinda stupid.

“I used to work as a gardener at an estate. On my way home there was a convenience store that offered plants at half price if they weren’t doing so good anymore. I bought them and nursed them back to health until I had no space left and asked the coffee shop if they wanted to buy them from me. They were so happy about it, not like the owners of the estate who seemed to not even realize sometimes that they had plants and a huge garden.”

“Yeah but didn’t you make more money as a gardener?” He asks and you laugh in a way he hasn’t heard before, your head falling back with the sound as if it’s force had been too great.

“Yeah.” You’re still giggling. “I did make more money. But it made me a little bit miserable working there. And if I want, I can still go back. But I can’t take part in the rehabilitation program without my shop and I like doing that.”

“How many did you have before me?”

He wonders how you felt about them. It’s not that he wants to feel special even though he clearly recognizes needing to hear just that.

“Miyoshi-chan was my first. She struggled a lot with needing everything to be perfect and taking care of the Bonsai was very important to her. She’s currently in medical school. Suto-kun absolutely hated doing bouquets but he liked the heavy lifting. Back then we used to go to flower markets to make more money. He’s a fitness instructor now. Toyama-chan started dancing halfway through our time here. She made very nice bouquets but they were always pink.” You laugh softly at the memory. “Murai-kun was my last employee. He quit halfway through.”

“Where is he now?”

“Jail.” You tell him softly and pick up the plates.

He gets up as well, following you to the kitchen.

“Let me wash up.” He asks. “Please.”

“Very well.”

You don’t ask him to leave.

Instead, you brew more tea and pull a half-eaten bag of cookies from a cupboard, putting them on the plate he’d just dried and on the table.

You leave for the bedroom for a second, coming back with two thick throw blankets that have seen better days, the fabric pilling in some places, the color washed out in others.

Wrapped in one blanket you circle the room, humming along as you inspect every plant, ever so often lifting it from it’s place and putting it in front of him, asking him to water it with a tiny watering can.

He wonders what you think of his family.

Do you think he’s not welcome home? You hadn’t minded Natsuo, had only been shy around his father and his youngest brother.

He feels like he should explain himself, but the words are stuck in his throat.

How should he start anyway?

He lets the silence fill the room instead, accepting another plant, this time recognizing the shape.

“Why is it called pancake plant?” He asks.

Your finger traces the shape of a leaf in front of him, the perfect circle.

“It’s shaped like a pancake. It’s also called the Chinese Money Plant but its actual name is Pilea Peperomioides. I like that it has so many names. It’s like having your given name and also nicknames given to you by friends.”

“‘S not a friend if they call you pancake just because you look like it.” He huffs and revels in your laughter.

“Alright, what would you call it then?” You ask.

“Bob.”

You snort. “Bob?”

“Bob. It’s bobbing its heads all the time so it gets the name Bob.”

“Alright. Bob, it is then.”

He watches you put Bob back in its place, watches as you have to get up on your tiptoes to peek into a pot, and how you crouch down to inspect how much water is in another.

He quite likes the form of your thighs and the curve of your knees, how your hair falls when you lean forward, how your fingers delicately trace leafs as if you’re afraid to hurt them.

Something in him unfurls, not unlike his peony had done.

He doesn’t realize his words are out until they’re surrounding him and by that he just keeps talking, filling your apartment with his voice if only to leave something of him behind when he has to go home eventually..

“I called myself Dabi. For years I was Dabi and not Touya, like one had died for the other to come in his place. Sometimes I think it’s the same but in reverse now. That Dabi died and Touya got another chance at life. But I can see it in their eyes still, that for them I was always both. I wish I could have a new name, a new identity, but I don’t know if it would be a mix of both or something new.”

He keeps on talking, even when you put another plant in front of him, even when all plants are watered and you sit down on the other side of the table, placing one sad-looking plant on the table and showing him how to free it from its pot while you listen, your eyes warm and welcoming.

He tells you about Shouto, Fuyumi, Natsuo, his mother, his father, Hawks, and even Toga. The words keep spilling out of him like they’re molten cheese and no matter how many times he closes his mouth after a sentence, it’s molten into strings so long and chewy, he can’t bite through them.

At one point a snarky comment drips from his lips and he can see that spark of laughter in your eyes, telling him that behind all that sweetness you’re not immune to some snarky humor.

When his voice runs out, the sound now rough, the words scratching his throat, the plant in front of him has found a new pot and you’re snipping off the last dried parts.

“I gift this to you.” You tell him. “This is a Zamioculas or a ZZ plant. In some languages they’re called a “lucky feather”, but that’s a pretty rough translation. I trust you to take great care of it. If you sense that something’s wrong with it, its your responsibility to make sure it gets what it needs.”

He looks down at the unassuming plant.

“Why?”

“Because I trust you that you’re able to do that. After all, you’ve been able to make sure you get what you need, didn’t you?”

Touya’s not sure how to answer that, he only knows that he’s exhausted. If only he could just close his eyes and fall asleep but he fears he’s taken too much advantage of your hospitality already.

“I should go home.” He rasps and you start cleaning up the table without a comment.

Shouto responds immediately to his request and promises to pick him up within twenty minutes.

“I’ll go downstairs.” He offers. “We still need to take the display back in.”

“I’ll come with you.”

You finish the work in silence, the ZZ plant next to the till a reminder of the past hours whenever he walks past it, carrying the display inside.

You press it back into his hands when Shouto presses his car horn outside, looking deep into his eyes.

“I’m not saying this lightly.” You tell him with a serious undertone. “But you are my most talented employee so far. Please take great care of this plant.”

“I will.” He says, glad that his voice had been rough before.

“See you tomorrow.”

You’re watching him leave, something he only knows because he turns to take one last look himself..

He puts the ZZ plant on the kitchen table.

He wanted to keep it in his room, all to himself, but he’d poured over his books all Saturday afternoon to make absolutely sure the little guy would get exactly what he needed, and after checking every corner of the house, he’d concluded that the kitchen table was the perfect spot in terms of light, humidity, and temperature.

The only task left was to make sure that every member of the family knew not to mess with his new plant.

“Alright, alright, I won’t water it.” Fuyumi’s throwing her hands up. “It’s all yours.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you to take care of it.” He points at the dying cacti on her desk while he speaks and she sticks her tongue out at him.

His mother is a bit less cooperative.

“Wouldn’t the kitchen counter be better?” She asks. “I like to keep a bouquet in the middle of the table.”

“The kitchen counter has too much direct sunlight.” He argues back. “The ZZ plant doesn’t like direct sunlight.”

“But I could lift it from the table at night when there is no direct sunlight.”

He ponders that for a moment, giving in when she brings up her next argument.

“Besides, wouldn’t the heat of our meals raise the temperature if we leave it on the table while we eat?”

“Agreed. It can go up on the counter while we eat. But we have to put it back down after our meal because I cannot allow it to be in direct sunlight for too long.”

taglist: @misfit-megumi @shoulmate

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #Passing Peonies #Touya Todoroki #Dabi #Touya x reader #Dabi x reader #Happy Todoroki #Todoroki Family #Touya fluff #Soft Touya #Dabi fluff #Soft Dabi #angst to happy end

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0perfectimperfections0 · 1 year

Text

Silence: Part 3

I have a favor to ask of you.

Nolan checked his phone when it lit up. LuckyBat responded. Of course! What do you need?

The brunette turned his brightness down and kept the phone angled away from Lou's sight. The TV was playing. Lou sat beside him on the couch, arms and legs crossed and perhaps not really paying attention to the show. It took half of his effort to get Lou across town without anyone asking questions. The other half was exhausted into getting Lou to switch out of that disgusting suit and into comfortable clothes. Nolan had insisted on a shower, but Lou was adamant about not having one. Stubborn, hard-headed doll. He could tell Lou was still uncomfortable with the current situation.

There was one thing Nolan had learned so far about Lou.

He absolutely despised being dependent.

Which would make Nolan's next step into rehabilitation much more difficult. Do you have any free time tomorrow? For a therapy session?

The bubbles from Lucky's text appeared and disappeared quite a few times before he finally settled on: Is everything okay? I can come over now if something's wrong.

No, everything's fine with me. It's...it's for Lou.

Lucky didn't respond back for a good minute or two. Nolan took that time to scrutinize the blond beside him. His eyelids were drooping in a way that showed how much Lou was fighting the exhaustion. It would be a vain fight. At least Lou's face was clean again. Nolan had settled for wiping it with a warm, wet rag since Lou refused to accept the shower. The hair was still messy and discolored. They'd work on that tomorrow before going to Lucky's. At least the stitching was finished. Nolan had given him a set of plaid pajamas to wear. Long-sleeved. Neither of them wanted to see the scars. The thread used was as close to Lou's felt color as he could get, but it surely wasn't invisible by any means.

The phone lit up again. How about 1:30 tomorrow?

Nolan smiled. Good. Lucky was a good doll. Sounds great. See you tomorrow. Thank you so much.

Alas, the battle had been lost and Lou was slowly leaning to the side. Nolan turned off the TV and put one arm behind Lou's back and the other under his knees. The only reason he'd forced Lou to sit here the whole time was because there had been another debate about giving him the guest room. The sofa wasn't an option, but Lou had tried to make it one. Plus, Nolan didn't want him by himself. Not after earlier that day.

Out like a light. There was only a small hum when he was lifted.

In the bed. Tucked in. Sound asleep. Nolan felt like he could breathe now. Gosh. Stubborn, stubborn doll. One of the sleeves fell down to Lou's elbow. The clothes were big on him. It practically swallowed him, which Nolan found strange because they fit well on himself. The faint lines of the stitches glinted in what little light filtered into the room through the window.

A thumb brushed over them lightly before the sleeve was pulled back down. "Sleep good, Lou," he whispered and pulled the covers up and over Lou's shoulder before retiring to his own room.

<><><>

Breakfast had already been made. Lucky was still good for a session today. Now he just needed Lou. Nolan checked the clock on the wall. 9:27. They went to bed at ten. Maybe Lou was just really tired.

Still, Nolan spared no assumptions. Not when it came to his new charge. He stood by Lou's door for a moment and listened. He was awake if the muffled hisses and quiet exclamations were anything to go by. Only a few could be heard clearly.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

Alright, well that didn't sound good. Nolan knocked, pretending as if he hadn't stood there for a whole minute. "Breakfast is ready when you are."

"J-Just a second," Lou mumbled.

Nolan leaned back against the wall. "Do you need help getting dressed?" If the pajamas were big, maybe the day clothes Nolan lent were as well.

"No. I'm fine. I-I've got it. Go ahead and eat. I'll be out in a second."

It was silent for a moment before Nolan finally answered. "Kay. Let me know if you need anything." He took about four steps away from the door and stopped, turned around, and walked quietly back to the door.

"Oh my gosh, you stupid idiot," Lou sounded frustrated. "What is wrong with me!?"

That last comment had Nolan concerned that it would head in the wrong direction. He opened the bedroom door, not giving any warning so Lou wouldn't have time to hide anything. "What the heck happened!?" Nolan stared with wide eyes at the stuffing littering the floor around the bed and on the covers. Lou had been frantically trying to patch himself up with whatever he could find. Tape. Socks. Anything. The silver duct tape he had found wasn't sticking properly and pieces were hanging off his arm.

"I told you to go eat!" Lou yelled, hiding his arms behind his back. He had changed into the jeans, but the shirt had been put on hold for the sake of covering up the evidence.

Nolan strode over and grabbed a wrist from behind his back to look at the damage. New marks had been made on top of the previous stitching being undone. "I told you not to do this anymore! You should've gotten me!"

"I don't know what happened!" Lou looked close to tears. "I woke up and it was like this! Th-There was stuffing everywhere a-and I didn't know what to do and I-I knew you'd be mad s-so I tried to fix it and n-nothing is working--"

"Okay, okay, hold on," Nolan put a hand on Lou's cheek. "Breathe. I believe you."

Lou let in and out shaky breaths, tears pooling in his eyes. "I-I'm sorry. I-I don't know--"

"Don't worry about it. It was an accident. You probably did it in your sleep without realizing." Which was more concerning. He held his other hand out. "Let me see your other arm." Sheepishly, Lou revealed it, letting Nolan inspect the damage on that one, too. "Let me get you stitched up. I'll clean this mess while you take a shower and then we'll have breakfast."

"I'm sorry," Lou whispered, eyes drifting to the floor.

"This," he held up the mauled appendages, "is why I'm here. But I can't do that if you don't let me. If this happens again, just tell me, okay?"

The stubborn doll turned his head away again. "Fine."

"Now go get in the shower. We're gonna leave after breakfast." He handed Lou the shirt that had been forgotten on the floor.

Lou swaddles it in his arms and looked at the brunette. "Where are we going?"

"LuckyBat's. We're gonna sit down with him and talk."

It didn't sound ideal. "About..."

Nolan took the blond by the chin. "About nothing if you don't get a shower and eat. Now go." Lou was gently pushed to the doorway. The pout on his face didn't go unnoticed. Nolan picked up the bits of stuffing everywhere. Skin-colored twine was draped across the covers from where it had been torn out. "Gosh, Lou." It was spoken in pity more than chastisement.

He needed help.

#writing #fanfiction #uglydolls #lou #nolan #short story #part 3 #series #silence part 3

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female-malice · 1 year

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One of the few times I’ve ever seen a man arrested for violating a restraining order and they PAID to LET HIM OUT. Jesus fucking Christ

Yeah

The worst part is the justice system is very broken. And the police serve ecocidal corporations above all else. And the police kill activists. And the police assault women. And the police ignore cases of women who are missing and murdered.

But the abolition movement doesn't put money towards tackling those problems. They put money towards releasing violent males. They say they have a restorative justice magical elixir that will fix everything. But they can't even name or acknowledge male violence for what it is. So they just do their restorative justice group therapy circles. They serve herbal tea and give out free mandala coloring books to violent men. And then the men they're "rehabilitating" go off and beat up and kill women.

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bittykimmy13 · 2 years

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Beneath the Surface (GT) - Chapter 1

Synopsis: After a freak accident leaves Galen injured, Leigh offers to help rehabilitate him through water therapy-- even if he's a grumpy giant who blames her for his injury.

This story was commissioned by @sizechuan!! She gave me the privilege of writing her super fun and cute idea, and I hope y’all enjoy it too!!

CHAPTER 1: ACCIDENT

The lack of early-morning traffic in Rockrest meant that Leigh had no excuse for being late. But that certainly never stopped her before. At least she could assuage her team’s annoyance with the box of donuts sitting in the passenger’s seat of her pick-up truck.

After a wide yawn, she took a sip of coffee and squinted at the first threads of warm color glinting over the morning tide. A salty breeze fluttered in and out of her open windows. She’d have to get down to the beach before heading to the Sealife Sanctuary. The coastal town may be sleepy at that hour, but the local sea turtles were plenty active. There were nests to monitor, plus the task of keeping an eye out for new ones.

And if that wasn’t enough, visitor season was in full swing and tours would be booked up for the day before lunchtime, which would give her almost no time to squeeze in animal rehab in the pavilion.

She blew a stop sign that she never paid any mind to this early in the morning and turned toward the nearest beach access.

If she could finish up with the turtle nests before the full sunrise, maybe she wouldn’t be so late after all. Still, the day ahead was jam-packed. And with tourists creating long lines at the local businesses, she’d have to help with late-night orders at the bakery when she got home—

“Watch it!”

Leigh slammed the brakes and jolted hard against the seatbelt. White knuckling the steering wheel, she peered through the windshield and looked up—and up, and up—until she saw the face of the person who had shouted.

It was one of the bigger folk. He was easily over fifteen feet tall. She gave him only a quick glimpse before looking down at her lap, but she saw more than enough to recognize him. Black-frame glasses. Ash-brown hair peeked out from under a beanie. And a few facial scars framing a menacing scowl.

Galen Kader.

Of the five giants who had graduated in Leigh’s senior class, Galen was the only one who hadn’t moved away to the city. He still lived in the lackluster giant neighborhood on the other side of town, but she so rarely saw him, part of her had assumed he’d finally left.

And in case their past interaction hadn’t been bad enough, now she’d nearly put her truck through his legs.

“I-I’m so sorry!” She turned her truck the other way, the tires desperately kicking up traction before she jolted to another stop and glanced up and back at him. He hadn’t moved, his eyes narrowed down at her. She made a vague gesture at the passenger seat. “I-I have donuts if you…” She trailed off as he rolled his eyes and continued walking in the opposite direction. “... Okay, gotcha! Have a good one!”

Easing the truck back into motion less chaotically, she gave an involuntary shudder, unable to shake the image of Galen’s expression. Not the friendliest face to meet in the morning—especially one so big.

She decided to head to a different beach access—one where she wouldn’t risk literally running into Galen again. As she made her way up a hill, she considered her options. But she wasn’t able to dwell on her indecisiveness for more than a second before she caught sight of something coming up in the middle of the street. Something much smaller than a two-story high person.

A mud turtle was making its leisurely way across the road as if it didn’t know that cars existed.

“Oh, hell no. Buddy, you’re gonna get yourself squashed.” Leigh stopped the truck, feeling the weight of the vehicle tug backward down the hill. She put on the parking brake—something that took her a second to figure out since she needed it so rarely, living at sea level.

There were no other cars around, but she still hurried out and jogged to reach the turtle.

“Do you know how lucky you are?” she told it as she gently grabbed its shell with both hands. “Sea turtles are usually my thing, but I’m making an exception for you.”

Leigh carried the turtle in the direction it had been scuttling and set it down safely on the other side. Before she could wish it a safe journey, a resounding THUNK echoed through the sleepy streets, followed by a booming shout of pain.

She whirled.

Her pick-up was gone.

Her wide eyes snapped further down the street, and she found where it had gone.

It had rolled backward down the hill. And it had crashed directly into Galen, who was laying on his side in the middle of the street, locked up in pain and cursing up a storm.

She whispered a few choice words herself as she sprinted to him.

Leigh stared at her untouched food. “I can’t believe I did that,” she muttered for the millionth time. She buried her face in her hands and groaned, her face growing hot as if she was living it all over again.

“Legally, you didn’t do anything.” Beth reached across the table and swiped a handful of Leigh’s fries. “And as your lawyer, I suggest you stop moping around like you did something wrong—and especially refrain from making any implication that this unfortunate incident was somehow your doing.”

“What would’ve happened if the parking brake wasn’t faulty?” Leigh shoved the rest of her meal over to Beth. “What if it had been my fault? Would I be in jail?”

“Mm.” Beth frowned, swirling a couple of fries through ketchup. “Probably not. But things would’ve been much messier. At least this way, you don’t have to pay a cent.”

No matter how much Beth assured her that she was in no legal trouble, Leigh couldn’t stop being jittery with guilt. If it wasn’t for Beth’s research, she probably wouldn’t have found out about the recall on her truck. It wasn’t her fault that the parking brake was lousy. The pick-up was already being worked on at the nearest dealership in Hastbury. Until then, Beth offered to give her rides when she could.

It had all happened so fast.

It was lucky that emergency services were able to contact a couple of local giants to help Galen walk after the accident. From then on, she hadn’t seen him in person. He’d managed to get to the single giant doctor in town, while Leigh sought Beth’s help. Now, two days later, they’d sorted things out over a video call with Galen. And Leigh felt as lousy as the parking brake.

Beth had done all the talking while Galen scowled and gave clipped responses through the camera. After everything, Beth insisted that Leigh could pay her by treating her to lunch—nothing more.

“Do you know how he’s gonna recover?” Leigh asked.

“I mean, that’s not our problem. But from what I could glean, he’ll just have to heal naturally.”

“Seriously?” Leigh’s eyes widened, and she sat back in her seat. “A knee sprain like that needs therapy to heal properly. He’s lucky the ligament wasn’t completely torn. Then… then he would’ve needed surgery!”

“Hey, deep breath.” Beth reached across the table and clasped Leigh’s hand. “Repeat after me: Not.”

Leigh sighed. “Not.”

“Our.”

“Problem.”

Pouting, Leigh snatched her hand free. “But I could’ve stopped it from happening if I hadn’t—”

“Ugh!” Beth threw her hands up. “Why do you care so much? I mean, you saw the dirty looks he gave you during the video conference, right? Doesn’t he remember what you did for him back in high school? You were grounded for like a week after that!”

“That was years ago! I dunno, maybe he didn’t look so thrilled with me because I hit him with my truck, Elizabeth!”

“Ah-agh!” Beth reached across and put a finger to Leigh’s lips. “We don’t say that.”

Leigh rolled her eyes and pushed Beth’s hand away. “Besides, he probably doesn’t even remember about the cake thing. It’s been, what, over ten years? We were barely sophomores.”

Evidently, Beth was done talking circles about the situation. She went back to focusing on her food and ordering another victory mimosa, even though this hadn’t been an actual court case.

While she was distracted, Leigh drummed her fingers on the table. She thought about Galen. And the lack of medical care for him. And the Sealife Sanctuary. And the pavilion. Slowly, an idea formed, and it didn’t take long for Beth to catch on to her expression.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Beth said, “I advise you to stop thinking it.”

Leigh pushed her chair back and stood. “You got Galen’s address, right?”

There was no way around it. Galen’s shitty insurance wouldn’t cover the cost of physical therapy in Hastbury.

He was lucky enough to get a couple of weeks off from work without the danger of being fired. They wouldn’t dare get rid of him. The construction company would never say no to someone who could lift five times more than their best workers combined. They just didn’t have to pay him while he was on leave.

He found himself wishing he had gotten injured on the job instead. Then maybe he could’ve gotten multiple visits with a physical therapist instead of having to settle for a single appointment with the local doctor who was like a hundred years old.

And as he was so politely informed by Leigh Harvey’s lawyer, she wouldn’t have to cover the cost of anything—the doctor visit, emergency services, therapy, nothing. While he would love to blame her for being careless, the truck had been faulty—allegedly.

Couldn’t she have heard about the recall before she ruined my life? Galen thought bitterly.

She’d looked on the verge of tears during the whole video call. Her face hadn’t changed too drastically since high school. They had talked a few times back then, but he’d messed that up for good with the cake incident. He remembered her lawyer from school too, though she was a couple of years older. Beth had always been a loud-mouth; no wonder she’d chosen this career path.

While Galen was wallowing in his thoughts, a tiny knock came at the door.

He thought about ignoring it, but the knock came again insistently. Sighing heavily, she pushed himself off the couch and winced. He could still walk, but with an embarrassing limp. Each step sent a shockwave of pain through his knee, like he wanted to sit on the ground and never get up again. His bruises were nothing short of horrific, too.

“What?” he muttered, pulling the door open.

To his bewilderment, Leigh and Beth were standing on his front porch. Leigh was swirling her black ponytail between her fingers. Her dark eyes were trained on the ground. Beth was standing closer, blond hair in a perfect bun. She smiled up at him pleasantly, entirely unintimidated.

“Elizabeth Murphy, attorney at law and best friend to this gorgeous and woefully misguided creature,” she announced.

“I know who you are, Beth,” he said flatly. “What do you want?”

Beth tilted her chin higher. “My client is generously offering a proposal. For a low price, she can assist you with aquatic therapy, five evenings a week for the next two weeks. Are you in?”

He had no answer because what she was saying made no sense. The confusion must have been palpable on his face because Leigh shuffled forward a few steps. They made eye contact for a brief moment before she looked past him.

“I studied physical therapy for a few courses. With a sprain like yours, I should be able to help you best in the water. We’ve got an empty pool at the pavilion at Sealife Sanctuary. You know, where we keep the sea turtles and stuff.”

Involuntarily, Galen curled his lip at the mention of turtles. All he could think of was Leigh apologizing profusely while he was sprawled on the street in agony. She kept repeating that she was trying to save a turtle—that’s why she’d left her truck like that.

“I don’t need help,” Galen said, though he knew that was a lie. He clenched his jaw. “Besides, it doesn’t look like you want to be anywhere near me. What makes you think you could handle helping me through therapy, trapped in a pool with me?”

“Oh, my client would not be getting in the water with you,” Beth said. “She’d just guide you through what to do.”

He scoffed. “Pretty sure I could get as much help from videos online.”

“But where would you get the water for it?” Beth pointed out. “I don’t think you’d do so hot with the waves pummeling you in the ocean.”

Galen let out a sharp huff and leaned on the doorframe, knowing that only put his pain on his display. But there was no hiding that it hurt to stand there. Chances were, he wouldn’t get better in two weeks without help. He couldn’t afford to take off any more time than that.

If his insurance wouldn’t cover therapy, then he may as well get help from the one who caused this mess.

“Fine,” he sighed.

“Six PM, Monday,” Beth said, ushering Leigh off at once. “The pavilion behind Sealife Sanctuary. Don’t be late!”

((Author’s note: What do y’all think so far? I loooove grump/sunshine dynamics to bits, and throwing in a snarky supporting character is just *chef’s kiss* for me))

#giant tiny #g/t #giant/tiny #gt fluff #g/t fluff #g/t writing #gt writing #mywriting #beneath the surface #commission #writing commission #sosin #sizechaun #leigh #galen #beth

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arvandus · 1 year

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Hiii! Congrats on your 1k!! <3

For your event, could I please request "I Like You (A Happier Song)" by Post Malone ft. Doja Cat with Kazutora from Tokyo Revengers?

If not, I can change the character! Please let me know. Thank you!

😁

Sure! I'd never heard this song before, and the lyrics made me giggle (in a good way).

Here ya go!

Kazutora knew he wanted you as soon as he saw you working the counter of the little local coffee shop. He was newly released, and ten years locked away changed a person. He'd matured in his time behind bars, years of rehabilitation and long, lonely nights of contemplation allowing him to come to terms what what he'd done. He'd gotten used to the loneliness, letting it become a part of him like the color of his eyes.

But it also made his appreciation of the world around him that much greater. Going from his second round of incarceration to freedom made him look at the world with fresh eyes. Where he had seen an invisible cage before, now he saw possibilities. An sea of choices stretched out before him for him to paint the canvas of his life to his liking. But all the colors had been muted, his palette restrained by the things he'd done, a heavy shroud that would follow him for the rest of his life. His history of violence would always be on his record, following him through his employment, limiting where he could go and what he could do. And when it came to other people, to meeting strangers, he felt like a fish out of water, seeing an untouchable world from the outside. He'd only ever known the gangs of his youth, relationships forged in poverty, blood, and violence.

So when you made eye contact with him and flashed him a smile, it threw splash of bright color into his canvas that he had never expected to see. It captivated him, made the rest of the grey world fall away into nothingness. He felt seen, his heart pounding in his chest, his head feeling light at being the center of your attention for just the briefest of moments.

He basked in it, but it was shortlived as you began to take on the next customer in the line. You'd given him one last final quick glance, an apologetic small smile, and then that was it. Connection cut short.

As he stepped away, he felt the greyness of the world encroach on him again, suffocating. He desperately wanted to bask your gaze again, to feel that vibrancy of life.

So he began showing up daily, ordering his drink and returning your smile. Small greetings were exchanged, short and professional. It left him feeling unsatisfied, a small sip at the brim of who you were as a person. He wanted more, to indulge in you, engulf you, understand you.

Kazutora began taking note of all your little details. The earrings you wore, the way you styled your hair, the keyrings you carried, the tumbler that you drank out of. He would sit at one of the tables and watch you subtly as you chatted with your coworker and other customers, your laughter filling the space with warmth. And he saw, with a secret smile, how you seemed to watch him too, your eyes scanning the coffee shop every once in a while until they'd land on him and then quickly look away in embarrassment. That was when he realized you were interested too.

He wasn't brave enough yet to test how true that was, though. His self-confidence was still his greatest facade; he could feel the doubt in his veins. If he was wrong.. if he made a move and you turned him down...

He could feel the waters of emotion begin to roil and bubble. But he tamped it down as he'd learned to do in therapy, not allowing his fears to control him.

He'd wait a little longer. Just to be sure.

His patience paid off. You'd been the first one to expand on the typical coffee order exchange.

"Are you new here?" you commented. "I haven't seen you around until the past couple of weeks. Did you move here recently?"

Kazutora laughed. "Not exactly. I just got out of prison."

You eyes widened at his blunt honesty, and for a moment he froze, waiting for your reaction. He'd refused to hide his origins. Better to own them than to cower behind lies. He wondered if it would scare you away, make you think twice about forging any sort of connection with him.

Instead, your silent pause gave way to a small smile.

"I see," you replied. "Welcome back, then."

Kazutora felt himself release the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Thanks. Would you like to go out for coffee?" the question came out of his lips before he realized what he'd said.

You giggled and leaned towards him over the counter. "We're already in a coffee shop." you whispered playfully.

Kazutora could feel the flush creep across his cheeks.

"But," you continued as you straightened up, "my shift will be be done in thirty minutes. There's a cute little sandwich shop I've been wanting to try..."

Kazutora slowly smiled. "The one next to the flower shop?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"I've eaten there before."

"Is it any good?"

"It is."

You smiled at him knowingly.

"So," he continued. "30 minutes?"

"Yeah." you replied.

"I'll wait."

#Arv's 1K Event #Kazutora x reader #Kazutora x y/n

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