Might I just say @mortemistrata that I was a little unsure about this prompt at first, but I had so much fun writing this!
“Good morning, Keith.”
Keith froze with one eyebrow arched. He slowly studied the brunet in front of him. “No ‘mullet’ this morning?”
“That would be rude,” Lance said, lips curled into a frown.
Keith’s face fell until he was matching the brunet’s expression. “Are you okay?” He zeroed in on small details, like the way Lance’s normally tan skin looked slightly washed out or the dark, bruised circles under Lance’s almost lifeless eyes.
“Of course.” Lance replied, tone even. “We should go before we are late to breakfast.”
Keith absently nodded, brows furrowed deeply, as he followed the brunet into the dining hall.
The only thing that you needed right now was a hug. But could you get one? No. You had an endless list of places you would rather be. You did not like this forensic conference. Normally, you enjoyed your job but the last few months had been hard. Firstly, you had received a promotion that everyone was dying to get so it was understandable that people would be jealous. However, people gave you dirty looks constantly and you was sure that people were speaking about you behind your back. Some gave you horrible comments to your face. You often worked closely with Molly Hooper however she wasn’t in the meeting. She was on holiday. You had massive amounts of paperwork or just work in general and you often found yourself doing other people’s. You were sick of it.
You were all gathered round a table while your boss was at the front giving the presentation. You longed to be in Sherlock’s arms however you knew that would not happen. He was always to engrossed in his work and often felt like he didn’t need any company. You knew that dating Sherlock would mean that there wasn’t a lot of physical affection but you did want it occasionally. You knew he wouldn’t understand though so you didn’t mention it. He probably wouldn’t listen anyway. Your boss was droning on about work ethic, the new technology that would be used, etcetera. You felt isolated. Apart from your boss, no one else liked you in that room. You missed Molly. She was normally sat next to you keeping you sane. It was killing you.
Time seemed to have slowed down and you found yourself staring at the clock more frequently as you began to become desperate to leave. It appeared that everyone else became bored as well as they brought their attention to you. Like per usual, you began to get glares from them and you could hear whispers when your boss was not paying attention. Normally, you could deal with it but some days it just really hurt. Today was one of those days. You’d bottled it up all day so when the meeting finally ended, you excused yourself from a conversation with your boss and ran to the bathroom where you balled your eyes out. Luckily, no one else was in there to hear you cry. After wiping your tears away, you left. The bad day didn’t end there. Some of the tube lines were closed for maintenance so you got the bus as you knew the Underground would be packed. You waited for the bus but your oyster card had no money on once you finally got on the bus so you ended up walking a long way back to Baker Street. It began to rain and you didn’t bring a coat considering it had been a warm summer day. You hadn’t brought an umbrella either because you’d been so busy that you didn’t see the recent weather warnings. It was rush hour so the streets were jam packed. You shoes were not fit for walking longer distances so your feet were killing you. You just wanted to be home.
Sherlock just glanced over at you before returning to his violin when you walked in. This really annoyed you but you knew it was best not to argue. You dried off and changed in your pyjamas. You walked back into the living room.
You opened your mouth to speak but Sherlock spoke before you did. “No,” He said. “I won’t hug you. I’m too busy.”
You predicted he’d say something like that. “Well it would be nice if you cared for once.”
“I do. I’m just busy.”
“Well you don’t look like it.”
“I am. I don’t always have to hug you when you ask.”
“I never ask!” You exploded. You were letting all of your anger out as rage built up inside you. “It’s just a cuddle and you hardly ever show physical affection! I know you don’t like it much but it would be nice for once. You never take my feelings into consideration anyway! You’re always stuck up your own arse and your work always comes first. My day has been shit but you don’t care! You’ve probably noticed that I’ve come home from work upset for the last three months, because you are Sherlock fucking Holmes, but have you asked me about it? No. Would you listen if I told you? No! But do I listen to all your rants over petty things like John occasionally not listening to you? Yes! I never ask for anything off of you so just a hug would be nice!” You stormed into your shared bedroom before he could reply. You threw yourself down onto the bed and laid on your side. After the events of the today, you needed a rest.
Around ten minutes later, you felt a weight next to you on the bed and arms wrapping around you. The body then pressed itself close to you.
“I’m sorry,” Sherlock mumbled.
You sighed. “Just because I yelled at you-”
“No I’m not hugging you out of sympathy. I want to. I genuinely am sorry.”
“I can’t believe that the famous Sherlock Holmes is apologising.” You smiled.
“Don’t take it for granted.” He sighed. “I do listen to you and I definitely noticed you had been upset. I deduced that your co-workers (with the exception of Molly) had upset you so I went and spoke to them about it. They obviously ignored me. I was going to ask again however I did not want to pry into your business as you scolded me about that beforehand.”
“I’m sorry for yelling.”
“I don’t mind." You fell asleep in his arms peacefully and he fell asleep soon after. You may not be the most perfect couple but who cares about perfection?
As the girlfriend of a famous mafia leader, you couldn’t really do anything, except for sitting at the home you both shared.
Wonho was always scared that something would happened to you. You were fixed to the apartement you both shared.
Which was okay for the first months.
Wonho ensured hat you had everything you wished for so you wouldn’t feel sad or bored during his absence.
Usually you were sleeping when he came home after work.
But this particular evening you weren’t.
You had just watched the last episode fo your favorite show. Now you were sitting on the sofa with your thoughts still on the death of your favorite character.
Suddenly you heard the front door open.
A little startled you got up to see Wonho standing there, struggling to get off his shoes. At first you wanted to laugh at his poor attempts.
Then you saw the injuries all over his arms and face.
“Wonho!”, you said surprised.
He looked up when he hard his name.
“Why aren’t you sleeping yet?”, he hissed. His voice revealed that he was tired and stressed out.
“Who cares? You’re injured! Here, let me help you!”
“No, Y/N. Go to bed.”
His answer surprised you. Why wouldn’t he accept your help? You knew how to treat wounds right.
Wonho made his way over to the bathroom, without looking at you again.
“Go to bed.”
That would be the last thing you were thinking of right niw.
“No way!” You followed him into the bathroom, where he sat on the closed toilet seat.
His angry glare hit you as soon as you stood near him.
“I don’t need your help, Y/N!” He took off his shirt and thus revealed cuts and bruises all over his body.
“Wonho what happened to you?” In a hurry you quickly got everything you needed to treat his injuries ready, while waiting for his answer.
“We need to disinfect the cuts and put some ointment on them and some of this on your bruises.”
After you lined all tubes, bottles and bandages up, you wanted to start treating him, but he stopped your hand mid-air.
“Go. To. Bed. For the last time. I don’t need your help, really.”
As much as you wanted to help him, you also were hurt in your pride and you love for him. Since he came he only told you to go. As if you just could ignore the fact that he has been hurt. Your tries to help him were crushed by his harsh words. That was enough to make you angry.
“Fine. I’ll got to bed then. Good night, Wonho.”
You turned on your heel and went to your bedroom.
Sad, angry and hurt you crawled in your bed and under your sheets, the scent of Wonho lingering in them.
You heard Wonho’s faint cursing but tried to shut it out.
When he stepped into the bedroom and lied down next to you, you pretended to be sound asleep already.
As he put his arms around you you could feel, that he had treated his injuries just as you would have and you felt a little satisfaction.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t want you to see these wounds at all. I want you to live peacefully.”, he quitely said, with a light chuckle. “I can’t tell you anything about this, sorry. It would only bing you in danger.”
“Just don’t push me away, Wonho. I want to help you.”, you replied.
“I won’t. I’m sorry.”
____________________________ I dont know why but this took me exremly long. I had this idea for quite some time now. Mafia!AU’s are the best!!
Okay, guys. Here’s the deal. I have had too many fanfics and other stories just RUINED for me with terrible and painful inaccuracies having to do with basic medical processes and facts… and I just CAN’T anymore. Please, let me help you. PLEASE.
This is way too long, graphic at some points, and really, basically, please send me an ask if you want any basic info on what would happen in a certain situation.
Working desk job means exactly this: apartment, tube, workplace, tube, apartment. It’s hard to find sunlight anymore, but he doesn’t think he minds: maybe he’s already used to this. It’s been longer than he cares to remember.
He spends about two hours a day on the tube - not much compared to the amount of time he spends in his booth at work, but he doesn’t really register those eight hours. It’s like his mind switches itself off the moment he arrives to work and leaves him running on muscle memory alone. Time operates the same way when he’s at home, so by now maybe he’s only really conscious during the two hours on the tube.
Sometimes he stays back on the tube past his stop. Sometimes until it reaches the end of the line. Sometimes he takes the tube with the intention of going somewhere specific, but then just sits there as his destination flies past him into the dark tunnel he’s just passed. Sometimes he goes down into the stop, just to hear the quiet again.
Sometimes he sees maintenance doors somewhere in the tunnels, and for no reason he keeps their locations in mind.
Sometimes the tube takes a turn that he doesn’t recognize, and he feels his heart beating faster all of a sudden. He would stare at the railway through the window pane, counting the seconds, until the tube runs past a corner he knows, or until he reaches his destination. Those moments still happen to him after two years of taking the tube to go… anywhere, really. He thinks he has the whole map learned by heart by now, but the underground keeps proving him wrong.
There’s a community online for tube dwellers. He doesn’t know any of the dozen of members, online or offline, but he has come by some of them on other forums before. They don’t seem to be of any particular profile: there are men, there are women, ranged from 20 to maybe older than 50. The posts are few and far between, but some of them detail everything reachable by the tube. There are things even he doesn’t know.
He screenshots some of the posts and keeps the photos in a separate folder, for no particular reason.
The community hasn’t had a new activity for about three months by now. The members call themselves Rats. He checks through some of their personal pages on that site; the ones he checks have all been abandoned.
Maybe they’re tired of the lack of sunlight in the tube, he thinks on the way to work. The tube sways and trembles quietly, its hum fills the air. Humans aren’t made for the underground afterall.
concept of something vaguely formed in my head. I call it Rats of Spice City.
The rough animation I did for the Nike Children’s Day job. @tombunker wanted most of the animation to be done on 4s (normal animation is done on 2s, a single image held for 2 frames worth of time). Animating like that results in a choppy look, and it’s a pretty fine balance between looking intentional and looking amateur. Not that I didn’t cheat on some parts and have the animation be on 1s, 2s or 3s if the motion didn’t look right on 4s.
The characters themselves were also pretty challenging. I’d never animated characters with so much detail before. In some frames you can see the numbers written down so I could keep track of the number of twists in the girl’s braid or the lines in the cheetah’s tubes. The animation being on 4s was actually quite helpful with this, since there were fewer frames for me to potentially mess up on.
Research: Work done by Stephen Walter, another artist who work on London Map and also an inspiration because this piece of his work contains so much detail but yet still serve the purpose of able to guide people as the map.
Commissioned for the London Transport Museum’s 2012 Mind the Map exhibition, Stephen Walter’s map depicts the Tube lines, sewers, tunnels, and underground paths that make up London’s underground.