#(which is probably why it took 2 days to draw just these two doodles)

[tblsomedoodles]

Disaster Twin Trainers

Kinda inspired by this ask but i went a little overboard lol. I will post Mikey and Raph's Trainer doodles when they are done (probably friday) (i was going to put all four in one post but they're taking forever and i don't really want to throw multiple days of work into one post.)

My thoughts on these two are that they're rival trainers with Leo being mainly Psychic type specifically to counter Donnie maining Poison types. Donnie's Shiny Zoroark is a fairly new addition (that Raph gave him as a tiny Zorua) to help counter Leo's team.

(i kinda have the thought that these two are battling each other like all the time, but as soon as someone else challenges one of them to a battle, they team up together and absolutely demolish them. most people have learned that you just leave these two to battle each other, otherwise you will wake up in the pokecenter with your entire wallet stolen and Dum-Dum written on your forehead in sharpie.)

[ikilledmyhamster]

Okay listen, what I love about BTD kid au is that Strade, rire, & sano were friends ever since childhood. I mean it's adorable if you actually think about it 😂

I do have a headcannon story that I would like to tell you all so feel free to read this!

I still don't know how the three met, it's kind of like that one trio where they don't even know how they met each other in the first place so let's just go with that. But I'd figured it would go something like this.

Story: Strade was an only child and had no friends due to his behavior. He met sano when he was around probably 6-7 who was stuck in a pond with ropes around his tail (Sano). Strade upon seeing a young boy with a snake tail, was curious and decided to help him...but the two ended up in the rope and it took 2 hours for them to get themselves free. Strade and sano became friends after that and strade didn't even bother asking about why sano had a tail.

The next part is where the two met rire which is kind of in a weird way. Strade got home from his kindergarten and decided to play with sano as the two were close, sano has an idea to summon a demon, which wasn't normal for a child to say that but hey, he's a naga demon so what do you expect? Anyway, they summoned a demon and you might be asking how and why they did it. Well one; They were pretty dumb kids and also just curious, two; Sano found rire's 'symbol' online for odd reasons and decided to try it. They successfully summoned kid rire but...they interrupted his tea time which made the demon prince angry (Btw he's a prince because his family is still alive, so he ain't the demon king yet). After a full on rampage that goes on for about a few hours, they were able to come into an agreement to become friends.

Childhood Moments: Strade, Rire, & Sano would build their own treehouse in their old neighborhood where they used to live, and they would make the treehouse pretty big. Of course the three had their own rooms and storage for their own stuff, by this time strade had an old camcorder, so he used it to create videos and/or memories of their childhood.

The three would go on adventures and weird places or even terrifying ones. Strades parents never really paid any attention to him so they didn't care if he left the house. Strade likes to draw or doodle in his free time, so he draws a lot of art of him, rire and sano. Sano and strade likes to pull pranks on rire. For example one time, they did a water bucket challenge but instead of it being normal cold water, it was holy water which burned poor kid rire skin. Of course he was not happy, but don't worry...he got his revenge.

Another childhood memory is that the three would occasionally watch horror films like slasher films. Especially paranormal activity, every time there is a demon or spirit that is possessing a person, sano and strade were pretty much scared while rire happily watches the scene. BUTTTT, when it comes to the exorcist scenes...Rire would immediately hold his friends with his tentacles while hiding behind them😂😂 (inspo from the photo above)

Another time, sano and strade did a research and they read that in old Russian ancient times, there used to be a saying that brownies could scare off evil spirits or demons. And so...they tried it on rire, the results did not disappoint them. The moment they bought a brownie cake and placed it on the table in front of rire...the poor boy disappeared. Which confused the two at first, but then they realized it actually works! Rire would stay in hell until he knows for sure, that the brownies were gone.

Treehouse: The treehouse that they built in the forest is still there standing stable till this day, and that treehouse holds a lot of childhood memory. Strade Sano & Rire would often sleep in that treehouse as their comfort zone and also since it's the place they mostly hang out in. They carved their names on the treehouse door, something like this; "LR+SK+S" Which obviously means in order; "Lucien Rire+Sano Kojima+Strade". Of course soon strade had to move out of his old town and so did sano and rire. They left their old treehouse but kept their stuff there.

Present: Whenever Y/N is free they sometimes go to the Kojima brothers house just to hangout or sleep over. One day they stumbled upon an old photo of the main trio. Rire in the center, strade on his left side and sano on his right side. The photo looked like it was taken a few years back and Y/N was able to open the frame and found a note attached to the back of the photo which had coordinates, which if your guessing correctly; Leads to their old treehouse. Akira & Y/N visited that place and found the treehouse with all of their stuff still there in the same places where they left it. And if they went all the way to the back, they would find a wooden box container which is filled with many cassette tapes and writing of dates. Strade would record those childhood videos and put them on cassette tapes so there was a lot of them. Of course, Y/N & Akira ended up watching some of the videos in the end and didn't bother telling sano, strade, or rire.

Anyway that's pretty much my version of the BTD main trio kid AU. Let me now which one should I do next down below here ⬇️⬇️⬇️

(Btw, credits to the art above belongs to @darqx)

[ailashiro]

Hi! ✨

My Youtube channel recently reached 100k subscribers and even though it seems cliché or something unimportant to most people, it's quite special to me, so I wrote this text to at least express part of what I feel... I know it is extremely tedious to read a huge text, I won't judge you if you want to skip this and continue with what you were doing, but I'm immensely grateful to those who are going to read this (I don't know where you got the patience from) well, let's go…

I created the channel in 2017, two years after my first contact with Animation Memes, I was quite naive, I was still studying at school and all I wanted was to show my stories to people, even if my drawings were full of errors and the videos had a simple and amateur editing, I had a lot of fun and was really amazed to see a community growing and being inspired by the videos I made.

One thing I observed is that each animation meme YouTuber at the time was part of a group that interacted and did several collabs with each other, I wanted to be part of one, I don't deny that, especially Brazilian youtubers like DaianeBR, but I was happy to be just me and my subscribers, I remember when for the first time a video reached more than 1 million views (Fantasize Meme), I simply didn't know what to do with the huge audience that out of nowhere subscribed to my channel at the time kkkkkk

I grew and developed a lot over the years, both in art and as a person, my life changed and I went through difficulties and pain that almost took away the shine and desire to create that I had at the beginning of the channel (That's why my persona changed to a more apathetic character and little by little she regained some of her color and personality) I was close to reaching that 100k subscriber mark before, in 2019, however... Due to the problems in my personal life, I had difficulty finding the desire to draw from before and that's why the channel was stopped for a long time, losing many subscribers, which is normal, YouTube demands frequency, if it doesn't receive this, you are forgotten by the algorithm. From then on, the channel became something more secondary in my life, almost forgetting its existence at times. These were difficult times and in the next few years I focused on recovering what I lost.

In 2020 I joined the Ordem Paranormal fandom, it was there that I managed to get back on my feet and met friends who are like family to me today: Insaniam Inter Chao, my found family. That's why I changed my persona once again, little by little recovering the colors and shine of the past. With them with me to this day I managed to continue on this journey, they are very important to me, capable of unlocking feelings that one day in the past I myself locked them deep inside.

I ended up being in 2 other fandoms in which I made related videos for, including QSMP focusing mainly on the Hideduo ship kkkkk, I met wonderful people in this community and together with some of them I managed a doodles account on Twitter, even though I'm not in that fandom anymore, I don’t want to forget them, I will show support in each one's journey as much as I can.

And here I am in 2024, many things this year also almost took me to the ground, I still don't have the same shine as I used to and my emotional state is still not 100%, but I have dreams and the desire to continue creating, showing the stories that I create and make people inspired. Is it stupid and cliché or even too idealistic? Yes. I'm not intelligent and I'm probably just one of the crowd of artists on the internet, but knowing that to this day, whether I'm an old or new subscriber, following what I do makes me very happy... You know, I'm an extremely insecure person and I often don't I feel worthy of nothing, I don't even know how I interact with a certain number of audiences, that's why on my social medias i post a drawing/video and just disappear kkkkk, I may seem extremely responsible and admirable in the eyes of others who see my art, but I'm a person full of problems and I'm very afraid of the future, but despite everything I'm grateful for everyone who likes my content, even if it takes a long time to be posted.

I'm not famous for having 100k, I don't have a good frequency of videos, I'm terrible at interacting with the public, I don't do well with self-promotion, my videos don't get many views and I practically don't know how to follow any algorithm kkkkk, a complete mess, but I really thank everyone who participates in my journey, whether from the beginning or those who have just subscribed...

Everyone has a world inside them, everyone has their own story, you are more complex than you think and you are much more than just numbers. If I am able to inspire someone as diverse and deep as you, that would be my greatest happiness.

Thank you, really thank you.

Especialmente obrigado a todos os brasileiros que me seguem, não, eu não sou gringa kkkkkk, já me perguntaram várias vezes isso.

Until the next video or drawing! 🔷🌸

[theonethatyaks93]

Sketch Showcase Time!!!

Sooooooooo, these are days two and three of my "Learning How-To Draw Pinky and Brain Phase." And, y'all, I think I found my groove! This is attempt 2 of drawing Pinky:

Already, I'm very pleased with this. I mean, this was my attempt to re-create Pinky's design by @goosieboosie. I'm not a digital artist, so I couldn't capture all the majesty of this design perfectly, but I did a decent job. This style allows me to draw Pinky's face a lot easier, and I can get more creative with facial features. I was really happy when I finished this, I kinda freaked out because, he looks great!! I even drew my gender/sexuality headcanons for Pinky beside him, as well as his signature because, why not? I tried to re-draw this picture a few hours later and I made a new discovery:

Sorry for the blurry pic! But yeah, I think I invented my own unique style!! This is the first version of this; there a few changes from my first re-draw. The main changes are Pinky's eyes being rounder, and his ears a little bit larger. I think the base shape of his head is also a little different. I think he looks so derpy!! I was instantly in LOVE with this updated design, so I decided to draw it again and:

The design is a little different again! And also, my first expression!!!! (Ignore the weird as hell erased Pinky head you see; it was a massive failure and I couldn't erase it all :( ) I really think the Pinky on the left turned out better than I thought!! I love his cute little face and his extra floofy head. The second pic is another kind of model pic, but I added a little tongue because it looked cute. I also added the mind bubble and the little blurb just for added effect. I think he looks cute, what do you guys think?

On day three/attempt 3, I actually doodled a Pinky without looking at a reference in one of my books because I was in school. Here's how it turned out:

I LOVE IT!!!! I was so shocked when I finished with this because I think Pinky looks amazing!! It's not perfect, but when compared to day one, it's like night and day. This is my favorite Pinky I've done so far, and it only took my like 25 minutes; what an improvement when compared to over an hour just for one drawing lol! I've made some small changes here, and I will continue to make changes for the time being. I'm still finalizing my style.

Later on, I did something I'm very proud of:

My first full-body Pinky!! I drew the body first and then added a head in later. I also marked certain areas that I might improve upon later, and little personal touches that I added for fun. Yeah, I think his head is a little too tall, but I'll fix that. I implemented some unique elements such as his muzzle area being based on the OG show, the tufts of fur on his head being longer, the chest fur, his feet being stuffed-animal like, his short legs (which will probably be longer in the future), and his tail being from the reboot. I am currently working on hands; they're just not ready yet. I'm very excited to see my own personal style being formed. I like all the touches I added and I'm excited to maybe work on some screenshot re-draws and other things like that.

Here are some hand sketches. Hand are EXTREMELY HARD for me so I'm trying to get an idea of what I want to do. I was either thinking of the one on the left (larger fingers, rounder shapes) or the one on the right (more angular, slimmer fingers). Idk, which hand style do yo guys think would work better?

I'm very proud of the progression I made on these designs. I'm currently planning on drawing Brain very soon and I will be doing screenshot re-draws, experimenting with changes to eye shape, and more expressions. I'm also writing still (new fic currently a wip), and I'm very excited to be contributing more to the fandom!! Let me know where I can improve and some tips on how to draw their hands. Also, special thanks to @cosmicangel139 for the drawing tips for Brain!! You are amazing and I will definitely keep those tips in mind!!!!

[agent-felix]

[ooc: Agent Felix LORE >:3]

Agent Felix joined Zoraxis's team when he was just a little kid, probably about third grade. If he went to school, lol, which he didn't.

He just wandered around a town all day, doing whatever he could to learn. Zor found him- Zor was about mid-thirties at the time- and just straight up adopted Felix. Zor gave Felix lessons on basic stuff like reading, math, etc., basically just all the elementary school stuff- except it only took 2 years. Zor, obviously, was surprised so he gave Felix some options and Felix chose technology.

Zor gave him everything he could to Felix on the subject, and by age 12, Felix had the technology expertise as a mad scientist. Felix started doodling after Zor adopted him, the doodles being very happy in general. Over time, they got.. concerning.. and Zor didn't know what to do about that.

Eventually, as more people joined Zoraxis, the more Felix was left alone with his little inventions. Occasionally, Zor, Hivemind and Charlie visited him (and were the only ones that celebrated his birthday), rarely Solaris for business. Felix loved Hivemind and Charlie like family.

The death engine was built when Felix was thirteen years old, him being oblivious to what he and Solaris were building. Agent Pheonix had seen him during Operation: Seat of Power, and recognized him as a kid.

When the death engine fired for the first time, Felix was devastated. Maybe a bit traumatized. He hated himself for being so oblivious to what he built. He didn't talk, eat or anything for days, even after he heard that Agent Pheonix had stopped the Death Engine. In fact, Felix felt worse becuase people had died.

Pheonix came back after a day or two of recovery and brought Felix to the agency. The agency convinced Felix to join (hesitantly) and almost gave up after ten minutes until Felix finally said one word: "okay". His mental recovery lasted 2 weeks, his fourteenth birthday two days after. His drawings started returning to a happier-looking state during the time. Felix waited a month and a half for agent training to begin, and when it did, it was too slow to match his learning pace. Regardless, he did what he was told without complaint. ...until they gave him a bomb to diffuse.

They knew perfectly well he couldn't diffuse bombs. They gave him one anyways. He had to run to other agents to find someone who could diffuse bombs. Felix was trying to figure out for days why they gave him a bomb. No clear answer was found.

Felix often has regrets leaving Zoraxis, since he misses everyone and he misses being useful. Usually he just looks at his shirt and he no longer has regrets, but recently it hasn't been working. He has a lot of conflicting emotions. He tries to stop the regrets by telling him stuff like "it feels great to be good" (as you know) and stuff like that. They've been working, but not much. The agency is constantly worried he'll switch sides again, but they don't know what to do about it since they don't want to get near him.

Felix doesn't know it, but Zor, Hivemind and Charlie miss him. Zor has had his eyes on Felix since he left and has been hoping he'd come back. The whole John Juniper thing was half-planned in hopes Felix would be sent on a mission. (I'm listening to This Is What Autumn Feels Like right now and it's throwing ideas like this at me ashgdhwhdhend)

Then Felix gets kidnapped, he runs away, you know the drill if you were reading/involved in it. He came back worse than before, almost back to his old state after the death engine. His memory was a little more messed up and he has major trust issues.

The end :]

[lizbotw]

it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

The Problem with Magic Markers

Soooo Critical Role campaign 2 just ended, I've got major brain rot over it and my wonderful gf gave me a wonderful idea for a fic so! This happened! A gift to @spiky-lesbian who came up with this adorable concept and is just generally an all round wonderful person who deserves the world. Also huge thanks to my ever patient, ever helpful beta reader @minky-for-short

If you liked it too, please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

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Mollymauk is so proud of Caleb in so many ways and, now they have their lovely lives with their wonderful children, he finds more reasons to be every day.

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Mollymauk Tealeaf had learned many things since he’d become a parent, now five years ago. A short amount of time, he’d used to think, but plenty of time to obtain a lot of knowledge you never thought you were ever going to need in your life.

Like how sandwiches cut into triangles were disgusting but sandwiches cut into squares could be eaten by the hundreds. Like how to make a bath appealing to a toddler with the liberal addition of bubble bath and a willingness to get absolutely soaked playing Sharks with them. Like how a scraped knee and bumped forehead could be cured with his cuddles and kisses alone, like how a promise from him that everything was going to be okay was enough to make it so.

And how silence was very, very worrying.

So when Mollymauk walked past his son and daughter’s room and heard only silence, when he knew for a fact they were in there, he stopped dead. He put any thoughts of getting to go and spend some time with his sewing kit out of his mind. Because he’d been a parent long enough to know that something was up, two five year olds weren’t that silent unless some game was afoot, something they didn’t want their parents to know about. Which meant he should probably at least poke his nose in.

So he knocked lightly on their door, the one covered in whichever drawings they were most proud of that week and a hand painted sign Jester had made for them the day they were born, prettily proclaiming ‘Trinket and Una’s Room!’ amongst a flock of miniature unicorns.

“Sweetlings?” he called gently, “Mind if I come in?”

There was a sudden scrabbling from behind the door and he heard a muffled grunt from Una before Trinket answered hurriedly, “Um...yes! Okay daddy!”

Raising a curious eyebrow, Molly pushed the door back, disturbing the usual scattering of toys left on the floor like the aftermath of a felt based battle. Although it did seem like there was more mess than usual…

Trinket stood in the middle of the room between their two little beds, his backpack at his feet and an expression of perfect innocence on his face that was just a little too polished to be anything but an act. Molly had to admit he’d probably learned that from him.

“Well hello there, little man,” he leaned in the doorway, smiling crookedly, “What game are we playing today?”

Trinket shuffled his feet, “Um...packing?”

“That sounds like a fun game,” Molly’s gentle concern upgraded to full blown wariness, “And where’s your sister?”

Trinket turned a deeper shade of purple, looking down at his fidgety feet that were poking more holes in his innocence by the second, “Um...she...um…”

Which was the point Una helpfully chose to poke her little head out of the backpack, dark eyes blinking curiously and ears flapping, trilling, “Here daddy!”

Trinket flushed guiltily, frowning at her, “Una! I said you had to stay shh!”

Molly took a breath, wandering over to sit down on Trinket’s bed. As his eyes swept around the room, he noted a great deal more chaos in the room. Almost like someone had been going through the toy box and the drawers and bookshelves, hurriedly pulling things out, making quick decisions about what to abandon and what to stuff into a little blue, dinosaur patterned backpack. Molly supposed he should at least be grateful that Trinket saw his sister as worth taking.

“Why don’t you talk to me, babies?” he offered gently.

Trinket swallowed, eyes darting around nervously before the last of the fight went out of his narrow little shoulders and he mumbled, “Daddy...can I tell you a secret?”

Molly had to smile. This was almost a running joke between the three of them, his kids running up excitedly to tell him they had a secret for him before whispering into his ear about some apparently very cool bug they’d seen or that Uncle Caddy had snuck them an extra cookie or that he was the best daddy ever. He loved being brought into their world where everything was brighter and more exciting and there was fun to be found in the smallest things. And where everything was felt so much more keenly.

“Of course you can, sweetling,” he murmured gently, patting the bed beside him, “You can always tell me secrets. Whatever it is, I promise we can make it better together.”

As Una rolled out of the backpack, apparently unconcerned and rather enjoying herself, Trinket clambered up beside him and stood so he could whisper into his ear. Molly tucked his purple curls behind one ear, smiling encouragingly.

Voice already trembling, Trinket leaned in and murmured, “I messed up Papa’s coat.”

Molly absorbed that in silence, feeling his son’s anxious red eyes on him. He leaned back, keeping his face carefully neutral before taking a long, deep breath through his nose, marshalling his thoughts.

“Trinket, I’m not going to lie to you here. We might be in trouble.”

His opinion didn’t change when he actually saw the coat. The coat his husband had been wearing as long as he’d known him and refused to be regularly seen without, no matter how many attempts Molly had made to buy him a newer, less ragged, less musty smelling version. It was more a comfort blanket than just clothing, stained and scorched from numerous spells and spills, old leather worn shiny from overuse. He hadn’t said so in so many words but it didn’t take a genius to guess that Caleb had worn it since before he came to the city. Which meant it had probably come from his parents. And though it was old and faded and stained today, it must have been new when he got it, a costly garment for people like the Ermendruds. The sort of gift that would only be given if your only son was leaving home to join the Academy and wanted to show him how proud you were.

A lot of Caleb’s life was like that. Even as his husband, Molly found himself having to piece things together from passing comments and turns of phrase, things that dulled his love’s eyes and tightened his jaw. Molly had about a quilt and a half’s worth of assumptions and semi-finished anecdotes by this point, telling of a sad and fractured timeline.

But he knew enough to see what the coat meant to Caleb and the place it held in his husband’s black and white, yes or no, yours and mine way of thinking.

The coat that now had a minor gallery’s worth of doodles and drawings scribbled in magic marker across the sleeves and all the way down the back. And if he wasn’t comfortable with Molly washing the thing, he wasn’t going to be okay with this.

Trinket had been fretfully watching his daddy since he’d first pulled the coat out from where he’d guiltily stashed it under his bed. As Molly’s mutely horrified silence dragged on, he only became more and more anguished until he was barely in tears, wringing his tail between his pudgy fists.

“I only wanted to make it pretty,” he whimpered, “Papa will hate me. I won’t be his special boy any more.”

Molly looked up at him, reaching out and putting his hand on Trinket’s shoulder, “Oh sweetling, your papa loves you a lot, you know this isn’t going to change that.”

But he couldn’t stop thinking about the times he’d picked up a pen from Caleb’s desk without thinking much of it, doodling with it until he’d looked up to see his husband gaping at him in scandalised horror. Or the times he’d stolen sips from Caleb’s drink when they were at the cafe, the same way he’d do to any of his friends, but Caleb would frown if he caught him, unable to understand why Molly was taking his coffee?

It was just part of the way his brain functioned, the rules it spat out after absorbing years of poverty and trauma, along with some different wiring that had simply occurred naturally. Mollymauk had learned a long time ago how to fondly work with these Caleb-isms, making concessions where it was best to and encouraging his wizard to gentle the restrictions his brain built when he needed to. It was like tending some kind of creeping vine in a garden, the way he saw it. Sometimes things needed moving aside so it could flourish and sometimes it needed pruning so it didn’t strangle the flowers around it. Caleb had been as brave as Mollymauk could have wished in managing his idiosyncrasies and sometimes he just had to sit back and admire how different the Caleb he lived with today was from the anxious, mumbling wizard he’d first met.

But how much patience he’d be able to muster when it was one of his favourite things in the world, Molly couldn’t say. But he wasn’t looking forward to telling him about it.

“Should I go?” Trinket’s lower lip wobbled, glancing back at his half packed bag, which Una was back inside, the front half this time as she munched away on some snack he must have stashed in there.

“Absolutely not, your papa would never want that,” Molly squeezed his shoulder gently, “We’re going to put the coat in to soak so we can get all this ink out and then we’re going to find him and I’ll tell him what’s happened. But you need to be the one who says sorry, okay?”

Trinket nodded frantically, still clinging onto his tail for comfort, “I am sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

“I know, buddy,” Molly drew him close and hugged him tight, hating to see him so upset, “But we’ll be laughing about this before long, you’ll see.”

Maybe if he said it confidently enough, he’d start to believe it too.

Caleb wasn’t hard to find for a number of reasons. For one, their apartment was very small and there were only a handful of rooms to look in. But more importantly, it was late afternoon on a day where Caleb didn’t have any reason to go down to the Academy and fulfill his duties as an adjunct professor and when his bookshop was closed, as it was once a week. Which meant there was only one place he would be, in his half of their spare room, either playing one of his video games or reading.

Molly wasn’t quite sure what they’d do when one of their kids decided they wanted their own room and were tired of sharing, meaning Caleb would have to store his books and he’d have to store his sewing somewhere else. Or if they had another kid. He’d been toying with that idea in the back of his mind lately.

Maybe best not to float that idea with Caleb right after this.

Mollymauk could feel Trinket in his arms, his offer to pick him up and carry him having been immediately, breathlessly accepted. He could sense him getting more tense, more anxious, growing heavier against him as Molly knocked lightly on the door.

“Ja, come in,” Caleb’s response was immediate, not even needing to ask who it was or having to pause over whether he wanted to see them.

When Molly went in, Caleb was in the old, ratty wingback chair they’d liberated from some sidewalk when they’d first moved in, Molly announcing teasingly that a future professor needed some grand leather throne from which to smoke a pipe and pontificate. Caleb had blushed and rolled his eyes, not even believing back then that one day he would get the job he’d always dreamed of having, thinking trauma and past hurts had stolen it from him.

So now Molly always got a small flush of pride when he saw his Caleb sitting in that chair.

His hair was getting a little longer these days, it’s auburn tangles pulled into a small knot at the crown of his head so it wouldn’t fall in his eyes. His beard was growing a little thicker too, more than the usual rusty shadow that dusted his jawline. Molly absolutely was not going to be complaining about any of that, he liked his husband looking a little more rough around the edges like when they’d first met.

As soon as he saw them, Molly with Trinket balanced on one hip, Caleb’s face lit up with a smile. His smiles had been rare once upon a time but now just the sight of his family was enough.

“Hello,” he set the book he’d been reading to one side, already expecting Trinket to want to sit on his lap like always, “How are my loves?”

Near Molly’s ear, Trinket whimpered mournfully and pressed his face against his daddy’s neck. It was more than an ache to listen to, Trinket idolised his papa, following him around whenever he could, listening devotedly as he explained his work even when it wandered far off the track that his little mind could understand. Molly had no doubt the attempt to brighten up his coat had been a genuine attempt to make him smile and he couldn’t imagine how much it was hurting his little boy, to think he’d upset the man he looked up to more than anyone.

Caleb’s smile dulled a little, seeing Trinket hesitate, immediately realising they weren’t here for playtime, “What’s wrong?”

Molly exhaled slowly, carefully keeping his voice calm and level, “It’s okay babe, Trinket just...did something he wants to apologise for.”

“Oh?” Caleb frowned a little, eyes still fixed on Trinket, arms still open.

Molly opened his mouth, ready to do the hard part but before he could, Trinket bolted upright and tearfully burst out, “I wanted to make your coat pretty because you always like my pictures and I thought you could take them everywhere not just in your pockets but I made a mess and I’m so sorry papa! I’m really sorry!”

For a moment both of his parents were a little stunned, not quite sure what to say as his rambles tapered off into spluttery sobs. Molly warily glanced at Caleb, looking for any change in his blank, closed off expression, any flicker of discomfort, even anger.

After a few beats, ones that felt longer than usual, Caleb only nodded, getting to his feet. Gently, he reached over and put a gentle hand on his son’s face, catching some of the tears dribbling down his cheek on his thumb.

“Little Kätzchen, it’s alright,” he murmured softly, “Please don’t cry.”

Trinket sniffled, blinking blearily, “You’re not angry? Don’t want me to go away?”

Caleb’s eyebrows shot up in alarm, “No! Oh, Trinkie, absolutely not. I’d never want that.”

“But…” Trinket’s eyes were wide, hopeful, wanting to take this relief being offered but hesitant to, “It’s your favourite thing in the whole wide world…”

Caleb chuckled quietly, his smile back with all it’s warmth as he leaned in and kissed his forehead.

“Kätzchen, you and your sister are my favourite thing in the whole wide world.”

Molly nearly yelped in panic as he felt the weight of Trinket suddenly leave his arms before realising his son had thrown himself at Caleb, locking his arms around him tightly. He didn’t doubt for a moment that his husband would catch him, only smiling fondly as he gathered Trinket close and buried his face in his hair.

“It’s all okay,” Caleb whispered against the rust red curls he’d given their son, “It’s okay, little one.”

Molly let them have their moment, letting Trinket cry the last of his tears out happily against his papa’s chest, hanging back and feeling his heart thudding warmly against his ribs. Eventually he was their beaming, bright little boy again, if a little damp, wriggling down from Caleb’s arms determinedly after one last little kiss against his papa’s cheek.

“I’m gonna make you a sorry card. The best sorry card ever,” he promised Caleb, already toddling towards the door, “It’s gonna have glitter.”

“Wow, that kid is definitely my son,” Molly observed wryly once his little lavender tail had disappeared around the corner.

“Then you can clean up the mess he’s definitely about to make,” Caleb chuckled, moving into his husband’s arms.

“Hey,” Molly kissed the crown of his head gently, “Well done. I know that must have been hard for you and...I’m really proud of you.”

He couldn’t see it but he could hear the coy smile in his voice, “Well...I meant what I said. Some coat is never going to be more important to me than my kids.”

Molly smiled knowingly, “I know baby….but you know, if you want to scream into that cushion for a little while, that’s okay too?”

There was a short pause before he felt Caleb’s shoulders drop in relief.

“Thank you, Katze…”

“Is it done yet?”

Molly had to fight a smile. He’d explained to Caleb that soaking his coat would take exactly thirty minutes, knowing his husband fixated on time easily, but still he asked every five minutes on the dot. He’d expected nothing less.

“Not just yet, babe,” he repeated, as he had all of those other times, looking up from the laundry they’d been folding so Caleb would have an excuse to hover anxiously in the laundry room, over the tub of hot soapy water and a little rubbing alcohol his coat was submerged in, “Soon though.”

Caleb gave a small grunt, poking a finger into the water curiously like it was some potion he was working over. After a moment, before Molly could turn back to folding the clothes, he frowned.

“This sleeve isn’t in the water…”

Molly’s smile turned crooked, coming over and putting a hand on Caleb’s before he could move the one sleeve into the tub, “I thought maybe you’d want to look at it...decide if you want to keep that one.”

Caleb blinked, not understanding until he turned it a little and saw the drawing his Trinket had chosen to adorn the sleeve with. It was done in bright red, standing clearly against the dark fabric, unmistakable a child’s drawing. There were four figures there, two taller and two smaller. The first had a set of horns drawn a little too large for it’s head, as well as a tail. The second had a long scarf and a scrawled head of shoulder length hair. The next was much smaller, with another set of horns and a tail but the same scribbled hair. And the last was tiny, with voluminous ears and spikes on the end of it’s fingers. All of them had immense smiles and held hands, a lopsided love heart hovering above them.

As the other scribbles and swirls turned into formless ink in the water, Caleb held this one like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“Yeah,” he murmured, smiling softly, “I think this one can stay.”

[imissjoongsmullet]

Something Better (1/2)

Pairing: Bang Chan x reader

Genre: fluff/angst (will lead to smut eventually because hi hello it’s me writing about Chan)

Summary: You and Chan have been best friends since before you can remember but now that you’re in college, things start to feel strange, especially with the way he acts when it comes to your boyfriend.

Read part 2

Warnings: part 1 of 2 (probably), cutesy friendship stuff, lots of stupid banter, bit of suggestive conversations, a good dash of angst, Changbin as your boyfriend (do you need a warning for that lol), oh and though this one is pretty clean, there will be smut in later chapters.

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: Ok so I’m going to try to keep this to 2 chapters but I can’t promise anything. Anyone who follows me knows I tend to get carried away it’s a thing... Also, yes, this is such a cliché trope but BOY DO I LOVE IT! Thanks again for the request. I had a great time writing this!

► 

Five minutes to four. Almost there. The old man at the front of the auditorium had been droning on about the history of bleebidiblah wherever for the past two hours and you were very much ready for it all to end and for the weekend to begin. You heard a pencil drop beside you and turned to see your friend pick it back up and place it between his upper lip and nose.

“Looking great,” you whispered, fighting back a smile.

“I know,” he snickered, making the thing drop into his lap for the dozenth time that class.

Chan was kind of an idiot. But he was also kind of your best friend. You’d grown up in the same neighborhood and had been inseparable since kindergarten. He was the first person you’d went to when you’d found out Santa wasn’t real, the first person you’d ever sneaked out of the house to go to a party with and the first person you’d ever gotten blackout drunk with; not to mention he was the only one who knew about your irrational fear of oven toasters. He knew everything about you and you knew everything about him. You were a team, tied together so much so, that you’d even decided to follow each other to the same college.

“Hey,” he nudged your shoulder, “how about we go downtown tonight and celebrate the weekend? I heard it’s prolonged happy hour at GB’s.”

The twinkle in his eyes made you want to say yes; it was a very tempting offer. “Can’t,” you replied eventually, scrunching up your nose at him.

“Come on, why not?” said Chan, leaning in and shaking your thigh, “we can go to karaoke after and you can crash at my place. I bought so many Doritos and they’re not gonna eat themselves.”

You bit your lip. “I kind of promised Changbin I’d go over tonight.” You already knew what was coming.

“Again?” he exclaimed a bit too loudly, drawing the attention of some of the other students, “you stayed over like three times this week already.” He sagged in his chair, rolling his eyes at you.

“Don’t be a child,” you retorted shoving him lightly.

That put some of his smile back in place. “You know, I think this Changbin guy isn’t the one for you,” said Chan, pretending to look pensive, “he’s got shifty looking eyes… and his nose is too big.”

You couldn’t keep from chuckling. Dipping down in your chair out of sight of your teacher, you turned to your friend. “You’re so full of shit, what does that even mean?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “maybe he’s having evil, shifty, big-nosed plans and you don’t even know it.”

“Your nose is big too, you know?” you said, pinching his nose.

He slapped your hand away and pinched you back, which made you cry out so loud the teacher went silent, eyes in your direction. Your cheeks flushed hot but just as you were about to apologize to the entire auditorium, the bell rang, pushing everyone around you into motion.

“Oops,” said Chan, eyes full of mischief as he rose from his chair along with everyone else.

You packed your things and followed him, kicking at his heels pettily.

“Seriously though, all the staying over,” Chan went on once you were out in the packed hallway, “sure he isn’t tiring you out?” The wicked grin on his face told you exactly what he meant.

“Chan, I swear if you don’t shut up,” you started but he interrupted fast.

“I just mean, you’re a studious girl,” he explained, grabbing your shoulders and rubbing them, “you can’t have a shifty-eyed boy like him distract you from your super important studies with sexy times.”

“And you taking me out to GB’s is helping me with my studies how exactly?”

“At least I’m not trying to put my dick in you every single night.”

“Chan!” you yelled out, looking around frantically at all the other students within earshot of your conversation.

“Aww,” Chan chuckled, hugging you closer, putting his lips near your ear, “you’re so cute when you’re all flustered.”

You were extremely happy he was behind you and couldn’t see the look on your face because you were even redder than before, staring eyes-wide into space. For as close and you and Chan were, you couldn’t help but feel shy whenever he mentioned sexual stuff around you. Not that you weren’t a sexual person; you just didn’t really know how to act around him when it came to those things. It didn’t help that you felt him all over you now, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand right up.

“Listen,” you said, shrugging out of his grip and trying to compose yourself, “how about we hang out tomorrow night? I’m sure the drinks will be just as toxic and delicious then.”

He came up next to you. “Fine, but you’re buying,” he said, “you’ve been leaving me lonely far too much. I demand compensation.”

You smiled and shook your head. “Fine.”

[I’ll be there in 10]

You hurriedly typed as you left Changbin’s place. You were meeting Chan for coffee. You were supposed to work on an assignment together that afternoon but you felt more than a little distracted after the previous night hadn’t ended up as fun as you’d hoped. You didn’t even really remember how it had started but you and Changbin had gotten into an argument that had lasted for most of the night. It wasn’t anything heartbreaking; it was just frustrating that your relationship wasn’t going the way you’d imagined it. And now you’d have to face Chan and pretend everything was okay because you were far too prideful to give him the satisfaction of saying ‘I told you so’.

He was waiting at your typical spot in the back of the café, his notebook ready on the table. You were happily surprised to find him jotting things down as you walked up. When you sat down, however, you realized he’d just been doodling obscenities in the margins of his book.

“Good afternoon,” you said, closing his book and grabbing the coffee he’d ordered for you.

You felt his eyes on you as you sipped the burning hot drink. You were just waiting for it at this point.

“So,” he started, amusement dripping down his face, “how was last night?”

“Shut up,” you countered, opening up your own book and looking anywhere but at him.

You and Chan were used to working together. Chan always had problems focusing and you were always there to give him the kick in the ass he needed to get the work done. On the other hand, Chan was the one coming up with the most creative ideas for your projects so, despite your differences, you worked quite well off of each other. 

For a while, things were fine: Chan was on his second coffee and the ideas flowed generously; you just had to write them down and turn them into usable content. Things were nice and light as they should be. You took a break and ordered waffles, enjoying them without any mention of Changbin; it was great. You talked about concerts you were excited to go to together in the coming months, showed each other movie trailers of stuff you really wanted to watch together and you laughed at the absolute dumbest things. You thought perhaps it was the caffeine that was making you both so silly.

Unfortunately, after that initial boost of energy, came the inevitable crash.

By the time Chan was picking at the ice at the bottom of his empty third coffee, things were started to shift. You were trying to finish up the assignment but it was clear Chan was starting to get burnt out. Gradually, conversation trickled away from the project at hand and into less productive territory.

“What is it you like about him?” he asked, staring zombie-like into his cup.

“Not now, Chan,” you sighed, eyes on your laptop screen. You felt his fingers at your side, poking lazily.

“No, come on,” he said, voice sleepy, ��I wanna know.”

You stopped typing and took a deep breath.

“He’s—” you started, trying to think of something while your head replayed how you’d argued the night before.

Chan let out a chuckle. “Yeah, he sounds great.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you groaned, a little harsher than you’d meant it, “let’s just get this done.”

But Chan didn’t let up. Your inability to define your love for Changbin had apparently made him very eager to tease you and it was getting harder and harder to ignore him.

“I bet he sleeps with his socks on,” he said, sipping his empty drink loudly, “weirdo.”

“Chan please.”

“Tell me he doesn’t.”

“Chan.”

“He totally does, doesn’t he!”

“Chan I swear if you don’t shut up I’m gonna kick you where it really hurts!”

“Fine,” he said, still laughing, putting up his hands in defense, “jeez, I was just having fun.” Then he came closer and, entirely oblivious, wrapped his arms around you tight. “No more coffee for you, it makes you mean.” He gave your temple a quick kiss and, chuckling, got up from his seat.

“Gotta pee, this coffee is going right through me, be right back.” 

It occurred to you, as you watched him walk off, how odd your relationship with Chan was. Or maybe Chan was just an odd person? Or maybe he was simply acting oddly recently? You tried to shrug off the confusing thoughts and instead opened up your phone. The last text from Changbin was right at the top. You clicked it and smiled, rereading the sweet message he’d sent you the day before. You should probably make up with him soon, you decided.

After another half hour of half-assed adjustments, you and Chan finally called it a day.

“If you could input your slides right after mine, I’ll do the touch ups and bring it all to class,” you said, staring at your laptop screen, “we should probably go over it together the day before though.”

Chan’s face was in his arms on the table, looking drowsy. “Yeah, sounds good,” he mumbled, “I’ll type them out by Monday, we’ve got most of the stuff down already, it shouldn’t be hard.”

“Good,” you nodded, finally letting yourself sit back and relax. You closed your eyes in a long yawn as you stretched out your arms. When you opened them again Chan was looking at you.

“Tired huh?” he said, his lips curling up into a knowing smirk.

You stared back at your friend blankly. “You know what? Yes, I am actually. I stayed up most of the night.”

His eyebrows rose up in surprise but he didn’t speak.

“And that’s all I’m gonna say on the matter so can we please wrap this up now?” you added, “I think I should go see Changbin later tonight cause— well, we just have some things to discuss.”

“Wait, hold up,” said Chan, straightening up beside you and, finally, all laughter was wiped from his face, “I thought we were going out tonight.”

The memory of your promise hit you, throwing a small dose of guilt over your head. “I’m sorry, Chan, really. I just got some things to do—”

“Some things to do?” he interrupted, now definitely irritated, “you’re gonna ditch your best friend for some mediocre sex?”

“Chan that’s not what this is,” you started but you knew you’d set him off and there was no going back.

“Whatever,” he snapped, “it’s fine I’ll call some people who actually wanna hang out—”

“Chan—” you tried, shocked at the rapidity with which his mood had switched.

“—instead of someone who’ll leave me for the first boy to give her the least bit of attention—”

“Hey!” you said, getting up from your seat, heating up from the sting of his words.

Chan got up as well, the look in his eyes pained. “I said it’s fine,” he repeated, placing some money on the table and walking out.

(part 2)

[basicallywhiterice]

moonlight (xu minghao)

Genre: Fluff, one scene with angst, college!au, graduation!au, established relationship, moving in together

Summary: Your relationship with Minghao, told through phone calls

Word count: 2k

Warnings: One cuss word I think

a/n: This is lowkey the foil to sunny but the plots are completely unrelated. Happy Minghao day y’all

D-17.

You wake up to a phone call from Minghao.

“Good morning!” he chirps. You respond with a noncommittal grunt. “Aw, baby. Rise and shine!”

“Five more minutes,” you yawn, turning over in your bed.

“C’mon, chop-chop. Get your exams over with! Get that bread, get that head, then leave.”

You still want to go back to sleep, but Minghao’s ridiculousness makes you open your eyes. “You want me to get that head? When you’re a hundred miles away?�� Static. “That’s what I thought,” you grin, closing your eyes as another yawn escapes your mouth.

“Hey hey hey, don’t fall asleep on me again. You got this. Turn your camera on!”

“Why?”

“So I can see your beautiful face,” he sing-songs. A grin spreads across your face almost involuntarily—after three years of dating Minghao, simple statements like these never fail to make you happy. It’s because of how genuine he is, you think. He means it from the bottom of his heart. “Plus, you’ll have a harder time falling asleep again.”

“If you insist.” You sit up, turn your camera on, and prop your phone up on your blankets. Minghao pops up on screen a few moments later. “Hey.”

The call freezes for a second, displaying a pixelated jumble of his smiling face, before it resumes to show him blowing a kiss at you. “Hey.”

You blow one back, feeling the sleepiness leave your body. “Mm. Last day of exams. Can’t wait to get this shit over with.”

“That’s the spirit!” His grin is contagious, and you can’t help but break into a smile yourself.

“Thank you for cheering me up, Minghao. You just helped me start my day right.” Minghao’s the more laid-back person in your relationship, but he has no problem being your personal hypeman. He’s good at it, too—he never fails to brighten your day.

“Thank you for overcoming your sleepiness for me, baby.”

“Mhm, just for you. I think I’m gonna take a quick shower before I finish my exams.”

“Can I join?”

“Minghao!” You burst out laughing. Minghao grins.

“Hey, at least you’re fully awake now, right?”

“Oh my god, you dork. Anyways, what are you doing today?”

He explains some of his new designs and marvels at the amount of creative freedom his upcoming project has. Before you know it, it’s 8:28 and Minghao has to leave to catch the metro. You say your goodbyes like normal.

“I love you, Minghao.”

“I love you, y/n.”

You pause before you hit the ‘end call’ button. “I’ll see you soon.”

D-13.

Sometimes, you wonder if suffering through two years of graduate school was worth it.

Then, you remember the job offer you landed a few months ago, and the long hours seem like a small price to pay. Getting a job in New York City is no small task, and your learning through your graduate program certainly helped.

Plus, listening to Minghao get excited about how you’re finally moving in makes the process sound more than worth it, no matter how long it took.

���—so I asked my boss for the afternoon off to pick you up, and she said yes! And I was super happy, and she was super happy that I was happy, you know? She also suggested getting flowers—do you want flowers? I told her you don’t like flowers because they’re impractical, but I can get you a bouquet if you want, if you’ve changed your mind. Or I could get a flowerpot for our apartment. Or do you want a succulent for our apartment? They’re cute—”

“Minghao, calm down. Take a deep breath.” You wait until you hear his exaggerated huffing and puffing, and you smile. Minghao talks a mile a minute when he gets excited, but you love it. “Great. I’d love to get a plant for our apartment. I’m bringing my cactus with me, so we could draw cute faces on the flowerpots and have them be friends.”

“Didn’t you already draw something on your cactus’ pot, though?”

“Yeah, but there’s plenty of space to add on. Wait, let me show you.” You stand, padding toward your window and throwing open the curtains. Outside, the faint streaks of sunset paint the sky, illuminated by the fading glow of daylight. You grab your cactus from the window sill and walk back to your desk, holding it up to your phone.

“Oh, I like all the doodles,” Minghao remarks as you turn your plant this way and that. When you show him the back, where you’ve painted a crescent moon, his eyes soften. “You painted a moon on there.”

When Minghao graduated and left for New York, he promised that he’d always be there for you in spirit. After all, he had said, when you could look up to the same moon he saw, it was almost like he was there with you. “Whenever it’s cloudy at night or when there’s a new moon and I can’t see the moon, I just look at this instead,” you admit, running your finger over the paint.

“God, I’m so in love with you.”

“I know,” you smile softly, looking back up at your phone screen. “That’s exactly how I feel about you.”

“I know.”

Minghao stays on the phone with you for ten more minutes before he hangs up to go grocery shopping.

“I’ll see you soon, Minghao,” you say before you end the call.

Outside, the moon hasn’t risen yet, the sky an inky black. Tonight, though, you don’t need to watch the moon to deal with missing Minghao. Tonight, you sit back, content with waiting thirteen more days to see him.

D-10.

“I’m always so worried that this might be the last time I see my friends,” you whisper into the silence. It’s nearing midnight, but your mind is racing. You just got back from a long dinner with your friends and classmates, which was a fun affair, but now existential dread is creeping up on you.

“I felt the same way when I first graduated,” Minghao admits. You’re Facetiming him again, but your phone lays flat on your bed as you shuffle around, trying to drink in all the details of your room before you have to leave. “I still worry that I’ll never see some of them again. But they’re always one text away, and I make time to see everyone important to me.”

“Yeah. True.” You sigh. “Still, though. I’m gonna miss everyone. I miss you too, you know, even though I’ll be in New York soon.”

“I know. I miss you every day.”

You fall back onto your bed, grabbing your phone and holding it above your face. “I don’t… I don’t want to suffer through missing my friends while knowing that we probably won’t live in the same city again, you know? Missing you is slightly more bearable because I know we’ll end up in the same place, but there’s no guarantee for everyone else.”

“Yeah, and it sucks. But you’ll still be in touch with them, and you’ll make new friends.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

In the middle of the night, after you hang up and you’re all alone, you gaze up at the moon for strength.

D-5.

After walking across the stage and throwing your graduation cap in the air, you’re finally free from school. You don’t have much time to talk to Minghao—your day is packed with ceremonies and parties—but he’s just as excited as you are.

“Two years and I’m done!” you half-shout over the chattering in the background.

“I’m so proud of you, baby. Show me your graduation cap!”

You pluck it off your head and hold it in front of you with one hand, rotating it this way and that like a steering wheel. “It’s about the same as the undergraduate cap. I did get this hood, though. It almost feels like a cape.”

“You could be a superhero that has caffeine for blood, or something, and your kryptonite could be history tests.”

“God, don’t remind me of those. I’m free now, remember?”

You talk for a few more minutes before your friends remind you of the graduation party at 4 pm, and you have to hang up to get ready. Before you hang up, Minghao bombards you with reminders of how proud he is, before you finally have to go.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says.

D-1.

“Really? You’re still doing last-minute packing?” Minghao asks as you throw some shoes into your suitcase.

“Shh, I blame you for distracting me with late-night calls.”

“You find me to be distracting?”

You roll your eyes, ducking down to grab your folded towels and plop them on your bed. “Mhm, always have. Don’t get cocky, though.”

He’s smirking when you look back to the phone screen.

“Minghao! I just said not to get cocky.”

“C’mon, let me have this moment.”

You sigh dramatically, glancing around your nearly-empty room and making a mental checklist of things to pack in the morning. “You’ll get to the airport at 2 tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. Terminal C, right?”

“Right. Can’t wait to C you then.” He groans, and you can’t help but prolong the joke. “Get it? C you?”

“I feel so bad for your roommates. I bet you tortured them with constant bad puns during exam season.”

“No comment.”

At 8:21, your roommate Jieqiong starts the last movie night you’ll share together, and you bid Minghao goodbye. Still, you find comfort in the fact that this is the last goodnight you’ll send over Facetime for a long time.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Minghao,” you say, blowing him a kiss.

“See you tomorrow.”

D-Day.

“I just got done picking up my suitcases,” you say, slipping an earbud into your right ear as you drop your phone in your pocket. As you grab the handles of your luggage, you scan the baggage claim area for an exit and start walking toward the sliding doors at the end of the row of conveyors.

“Awesome, I just saw some people walk out,” Minghao says. “I’m here waiting.”

Suddenly, you feel very small as the gravity of the situation weighs on you. Minghao is behind those doors, waiting. You’re about to start a new life together, staying in the same city for the first time in two years. “What if I can’t find you?” you all but whisper, halting your footsteps.

“Then we’ll just keep looking for each other. Take your time, baby.”

“I—yeah, okay.” You will your legs to move again. “Will you stay on the call with me?”

“Of course.”

“Okay.” A comfortable silence falls as you pass the exit checkpoint, stepping out of the sliding doors to the pickup area. “Okay, I just walked outside and—”

And then your gaze falls on a certain young man wearing a top in your favorite shade of light blue. What catches your attention is the poster he’s holding, with ‘my moon’ written on it in loopy handwriting and a cartoon moon doodled next to it.

Your face nearly splits open from how wide your smile is.

“I see you.”

Day 1.

You wake up with your face pressed into Minghao’s chest.

“Good morning,” you whisper. “Are you awake?”

Minghao groans. “Five more minutes,” he mutters. “What time is it?”

You glance around the room until you find his clock on his bedside table. “9:45. We have lots of time before we have to meet my parents for lunch.”

“Mm. Good.” He wraps an arm around your waist. “I’m glad you’re here, sleepyhead.”

You scoot closer. “You’re the one asking for more sleep, mister.”

“You’re the one who’s warm and soft and cuddly. I love you, y/n.”

Closing your eyes, you nuzzle your head into his chest and relax into his embrace. “I love you, Minghao.”

[lovelivingmydreams]

A story by heroes and villains

Book 2: secrets revealed Virgil Anker: trust and caution

Masterlist book 1

It's not easy to know who to trust and who to be wary off. But Virgil better learn soon.

When Virgil got back to the new house, he took a shower and sat himself on the couch in his pj’s. He was listening to his ‘winding down’ playlist. He was grinning to himself. Someone else was wearing his design. Sure he’d made Janus a shirt way back in freshmen year, but he barely wore it outside the house. This would be seen by tons of people. And it looked so good! He couldn’t wait till Monday. He could imagine Roman’s reaction. Would there be pictures in the papers? On the news? He just might buy a paper so he could keep a clipping to look back on later. Thinking about gushing over the costume with Roman at school made him think about seeing Janus again. J had skipped school after what happened in the hallway, leading to him having detention all of last week. He hadn’t even so much as looked at Virgil since. Not in a, “I am mad and ignoring you way,”. He looked ashamed. Scared. That was what made it so hard for Virgil to stick to his plan. Janus looked so hurt and lost and ashamed. And during lunch, he was nowhere to be found. Virgil needed to talk to Picani about this tomorrow. It would be a busy session. He contemplated where things had gone wrong for the millionth time for a while until he heard the door and looked up to see his fathers enter the room. “You’re back!” he greeted as he sat up. “So I gotta know, who’s your fourth guy?” he wondered casually. His dad just looked at him confused. “What do you mean?” “For your poker nights,” he clarified with a chuckle. Imagining Patton or uncle Thomas playing poker was kind of funny. It seemed so out of character for them. Still he couldn’t imagine what else would take all three of them getting together like this. Thomas had taught musical theatre classes, back when he was still a professor, and now he was the dean. Then again, Virgil wasn’t certain his uncle was always present. Tonight might just have been one time he happened to be there. But Patton definitely had been part of this project as much as Logan was. The past six months at the very least, but most likely from the start. “No cardgames I’m afraid kiddo. We’ll tell you about the project once it’s finished. It’s all confidential for now I’m afraid,” Patton told him gently. Virgil looked long and hard at Patton. He wasn’t lying. And confidential stuff made a lot of sense. He shrugged, letting it go. Even if his first guess was right after all and his dad was doing some kind of superhero stuff as BrainStorm, if Patton was there to help him Virgil felt assured that they’d be safe. Though he wouldn’t know how Patton, or Thomas, got wrapped up with anything involving a former super villain. “Okay, keep your secrets,” he sighed as he stretched. “Night Pat, night Lo,” he bid before heading upstairs. “Goodnight Virgil, I love you.” Virgil looked back at his dad when he heard that. “Love you to dad,” he replied with a smile. “Love you three kiddo!” Patton added, making Virgil laugh. “Love ya Pat.” And with that he went upstairs to his room. His new room was bigger than the one in his old house. But he didn’t care much about that. His old room had memories. He missed it honestly. He started to worry that he’d been too quick to say that he wanted to move out. No matter how nice the new house was, and how conveniently it was positioned, it would never quite be like the one he’d known most of his life. He let himself drop on his bed. It was pointless to think about that now. At this point, another family had probably moved into their old home. They’d brought their own furniture. Probably painted over the walls. Erasing the little doodles he’d made when he was little and bored. Before his mind could go any farther down that path, he heard a buzzing. Roman sent him a text. “Greetings! I just got back. Sorry for not checking in earlier. Could not be helped. Did you get home alright?” Virgil chuckled and texted back. “LOL. You worry too much. Hope you had a fun night.” Virgil certainly did. Just thinking about it made him impatient. Oh why not? Before he could second guess himself, he pressed call. “Virgil?” Roman sounded surprised, but Virgil was already way to giddy about his news. “I had to tell you now. I saw him!” he whispered. “Who? And why are we whispering?” Roman asked, mimicking his volume. “I’m supposed to be asleep,” he admitted, earning himself a chuckle. “Ok… Who did you see?” Roman asked. “Dream Prince!” expecting the logical next question he edited his story a little. “I went for a walk and I guess he was doing patrol in my neighborhood, I caught a glimpse of him,” well, that was an understatement. But he couldn’t tell Roman everything. Not yet. He’d lectured Prince about being cautious just today. He trusted Roman. But anyone could overhear them at any time. “He was wearing my costume! You were right! I can’t wait to get a good look at it in action!” Again. “You think someone got a picture? I didn’t have a chance. God I should’ve taken a picture so I could show you!” Though he wasn’t sure if he could’ve managed to get a believable citizens picture of him. He doubted Prince could be photographed if he didn’t want to be. “I’m sure I’ll see your work plastered around the front pages Monday. Pretty sure you missed out on the Saturday edition. But the news stations might talk about it.” Virgil’s cheeks hurt from smiling. “You sure you don’t want your name attached to it?” Virgil considered that for a moment. It would be kind of cool, he supposed. But he was trying not to draw any attention to his civilian self so long as he did the vigilante gig. Asides from that, he didn’t want anyone to be able to claim any of his future successes were due to his connection to a superhero, or have expectations based on this one work. “Yeah… I just… I know I should want the credit. But, just in case he becomes like this big time hero,” which seemed very likely to Virgil. His powers were pretty amazing and he had the personality to make it big. “I don’t want my possible career to be defined before it starts, you know what I mean?” He hoped he did, because he was starting to get confused by his own phrasing. “Maybe I’ll come forth with the original sketch when I’m like, 30, to prove it was me if it still matters by then,” he concluded. “Sounds like a smart plan. I’m going to let you go. I do need my beauty sleep after all.” Oh, he made it too easy. “You said it, not me,” he chuckled. “Night Princey.” “Buenas noches. Mi querido amigo,” Roman replied dramatically. Virgil rolled his eyes. Though he smiled as he realized Roman just called him ‘dear friend’. Trying to hide the way that warmed his chest he let out a groan. “Bon nuit,” he huffed in retaliation before hanging up. Janus had taught him a bit of French over the years. And just like that his thoughts returned to his old friend. Janus had been well behaved the past week. He hadn’t gotten in a single fight. Maybe he should try and show that he noticed. Just saying ‘hi’ wouldn’t be that bad right? Show that he meant it when he said he wanted to get back to being friends, real friends, at some point. With thoughts of a happy ending for everyone, Virgil fell asleep. The next morning he woke up early. He made sure to be quiet as he got ready for the day. Once downstairs he turned on the tv. And sure enough, the local station was talking about Dream Prince. A professional picture of him leaping across the street from one rooftop to another serving as background. The anchors were talking about his heroic deeds of last night, ranging from walking a girl home to taking down those criminals ‘single handedly’. “No one can deny it. This young hero finds no feat too great or too small, and he does it with style. Looks like he’s settled on a look.” They thought his costume had style! Virgil was vibrating with excitement. He couldn’t sit still. He had to do something with all this energy. He started on breakfast. Bacon, eggs… It had been a while since he’d felt up to making a big breakfast and been the first to wake up. Patton was as much of an early riser as he and Logan. Which meant he hadn’t had Virgil’s secret omelet recipe yet. He was bouncing on his feet as the two anchors were analyzing the costume in as much detail as they could. They found the heels a bold choice and the mask an elegant way to incorporate a crown. When Virgil heard his dads move about upstairs he turned the news off and set the table. Patton really liked the eggs. That or he really wanted Virgil to think so. Three servings made him think that it wasn’t pretend though. After breakfast, uncle Thomas picked him up for their trip to the zoo. Virgil had been looking forward to it. It felt forever ago since he last spent some one on one time with his honorary uncle. “That’s a nice one. You really got the eyes down well,” he complemented as Virgil finished a sketch of a koala. “Thanks,” Virgil said, pretty happy with the result as well. “You are really talented. Guess it runs in the family. I remember your dad scribbling away in his poetry notebook all the time.” Virgil looked at his uncle with wide eyes. “You knew my father?” he asked perplexed. Thomas frowned down at him for a moment before his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, no. I never personally met your birthfather. I meant Logan,” he clarified. Virgil was a little disappointed. For a second he’d hoped to learn a little more about his birthparents. But if Thomas had been talking about Logan… “My dad wrote poetry?” Thomas chuckled. “Yeah. He was pretty good. Though he’d disagree. He felt more comfortable using his sharp tongue on the debate team. He won us some prizes,” he recalled. Virgil took this in. He had wondered what his dad was like at his age before. Now was a good time to ask more. “So poetry and debate team… Guess that is why you two became friends, huh?” he asked. Thomas shook his head a little awkwardly. “Not exactly. With my social anxiety I probably wouldn’t have approached him if my mom hadn’t told me about his mom losing custody…” “What!?” Virgil gasped. He never knew that. Thomas cringed realizing he had maybe said to much. He looked down at Virgil. “Your grandparents weren’t parents of the year. Not abusive, but… neglectful I suppose. Logan never talked about it, so I don’t know the details. Just what little ” “He was in the system?” Virgil asked with a shiver. He’d heard about the system. He was glad he never had to experience it. “No, like for you there was someone ready to take him in right away,” Thomas told him. Virgil wanted to ask who had adopted his dad. But he had an idea… And he kind of didn’t want to hear he was wrong. He wanted it to be his parents. It would explain why Logan had such a hard time talking about them, but had so much love and respect for them when he did. “What was it like rooming with him? Was he secretly a slob in college?” he asked hopefully. Thomas relaxed and started talking about a few college stories, though he quickly veered into high school and early parenthood stories. At the end of the day Virgil had a good handful of animal sketches, an idea for his art project for the semester and Thomas dropped him off at Picani’s office. “Hello Virgil. How are you today? I heard you had a good scare earlier this week.” Virgil let out a deep sigh, sat down and started his story. Leaving Picani’s office a little bit later than planned, he felt a lot better. Or, well ‘better’ never had been the right word. He’d realized that sometime during the camp. After talking about Picani about what bothered him, he was still bothered by it. But he understood things more clearly. He felt less confused and had an idea of what to do about it. Picani never told him everything would be okay. He helped him understand what was wrong and how to either steer it in a better direction, or learn to live with it. He now felt less uncertain about wanting to give Janus a sign that there was still hope for them, even after what happened last week. He felt less guilty over indulging the people asking him out even though Roman was still very much on his mind. He even felt better about getting more information than he should’ve from uncle Thomas. It had been a relief talking about his theory that his dad had been in his parent’s custody for at least four years and that that was, maybe, the reason why he took him in when they passed. And the fact that he had at least one set of grandparents that might be still alive. He wasn’t going to ask about them though. If they held bad memories for his dad, he didn’t think he wanted to know them. It was very low on his list of priorities. The fact that his dad never mentioned them told him enough. The whole scare with the ceiling lamp was discussed and Picani left it alone when Virgil said that he didn’t want to waste too much time on it. “I’m home!” he announced as he came through the door. He heard Patton call a greeting from the kitchen and saw his dad come from the living room to meet him in the doorway. “Dad!” he called out eagerly as he gave his father a hug. “Virgil? Not that I do not appreciate you seem excited to see me. But is there a particular reason?” There were a few honestly. Knowing a bit more about how he ended up being raised by the smartest, most patient man he’d ever met had him excited. On top of that knowing what his dad was like at his age made him feel closer to him. He decided to focus on the latter. He’d turn sixteen soon. If Logan hadn’t initiated the conversation by then, he would. He could be patient for another month. “Uncle Thomas told me about your teen years. I didn’t know you were on the debate team!” he told him. He could imagine his dad thriving in that environment though. Maybe they should check out the debate team this year in between Roman’s play and Virgil’s art exhibit. Logan gave Virgil a small smile, a bit of pride in his eyes. It was rare for Virgil to see his dad proud of himself. He liked it. “Well, yes. It was a bit of a hobby of mine, as well as an attempt to get better at socializing,” Logan said modestly. Virgil picked up on the operative word in that sentence. ‘Attempt’. “You were a socially awkward nerd,” he concluded with a chuckle. He was so used to being nothing like his dad. Finding flaws and similarities to himself in the man he’d idolized as long as he could remember, it was strangely exhilarating. Logan, however seemed to misunderstand what had Virgil so thrilled. “Hey, that’s a complement! I’m a socially awkward artsy kid. Sounds like I’m your son after all!” he clarified. That reminded him though. “Speaking off. Uncle Thomas told me you wrote poetry back in the day.” “Really!?” Patton exclaimed from the kitchen. Logan was blushing. Scrambling for a way out of the conversation it seemed. “I… Experimenting with different forms of self-expression is a natural part of discovering one’s identity as a teenager. It was a phase. I would like to forget about it.” Virgil was about to argue against it, but Patton beat him to it. “Aw, but poetry is so romantic,” he pouted. And Virgil could see the way that affected his dad. Well, their date nights were about to get ten times more sappy. Hopefully going for the heart, and his ego, would work out just as well for Virgil. “That’s too bad. I thought I could make a project around your old work for art class,” he sighed disappointedly. And just like that his dad’s firm posture melted away. “I’ll see if I can find some of my old notebooks. Just ask my consent before you pick one.” Virgil couldn’t resist hugging him again. “Thanks dad. You won’t regret it. I promise.” He felt his father put his arms around him gently. A wordless “you’re welcome”. Virgil was feeling very chatty during dinner and so told his parents all about his day. They had to go to the university again tonight. Since Virgil was planning on meeting up with Prince and not sure if he’d be out all night or just long enough to talk to the guy, he bid them both a good night now. Just in case he’d be too tired to wait for them to get home once he got back. As soon as they were out the door Virgil dug in his closet for his face mask, something he wore when he was feeling sick and didn’t want to infect others. And his shades. He was going to take a chance on Prince today. He made sure he had his evidence at the ready. He’d updated it earlier that week and last night he hadn’t learned anything new. He decided to go with the same look as yesterday so Prince would recognize him more easily. He made his way to the street and vanished in the alleys. After a few minutes he found the rooftop they’d used as their rendezvous point last night. Hopefully Prince wouldn’t make him wait too long. He lowered the intensity of his cloak to be more easily spotted should someone be looking for him. Suddenly he heard a sound behind him. “Good evening my shadowy friend,” the grand voice of Dream Prince drifted through the air. Virgil turned around, his coat flaring out with the movement. “Hey there highness,” he greeted as he tossed him the evidence bag. Clear of any fingerprints or DNA as far as he could manage it, as usual. Prince studied it for a moment. “Is this…?” he sounded surprised. “A show of good will. I thought about it…” not enough. Maybe he was biased because he reminded him of Roman. Or because he’d seen him during his training wheel days. Maybe he didn’t want to be alone anymore. “You seem alright. I’ll… I’ll have your back. If you have mine.” They could help each other. Grow stronger together. Weren’t heroes always at their strongest once they learned to work together? “You do know that if I hand this in, they’ll know I made contact?” This guy. Virgil chuckled, finding this strangely endearing. “You mean you haven’t told them yet?” Prince’s posture straightened almost defiantly. “You didn’t say you were alright with that!” Was he actually insulted by the idea of reporting back to his people without Virgil’s permission? Guess he’d read him right. Good to know. “Okay. Well, consider this my permission. If I don’t want to be found, I’ll disappear Prince.” He’d find a way to avoid Prince if it was necessary. “Tell the chief all communication with me goes through you. If you don’t mind.” Because Virgil didn’t trust the chief enough to go anywhere near her. Prince nodded as he reached for his ear. “I am currently debriefing Phantom. I’ll let you know when I’m done here. Tell chief I’ll stop by with a package. Radio silence until further notice.” Virgil couldn’t stop himself from letting out a chuckle. This guy. He really needed to be more careful. “You ever thought I might be a bad guy? You shouldn’t cut off your back up like that in front of me.” Had they taught him nothing at the GTH? “You’ve had plenty chances to take me out,” Prince pointed out, much to Virgil’s surprise. “You could have let those goons get me the first time you saw me. You could have attacked me while I was busy with those guys yesterday. And who knows how many times over the summer. And on top of that. Who says my communicator is my only way of contacting back up?” Okay, so maybe Prince knew what he was doing after all. “Fair enough. So what now?” He had no idea what would come after this. He just knew that Prince reached out, and he’d accepted. The ball was back in Prince’s court. “Now… I warn you about the collector.” That sounded very serious. He almost wanted to get out before he could get involved, but a gut feeling told him that this was important. He eyed the edge of the roof. Well might as well get comfortable. “I feel like this is a sitting down kind of conversation.” Once they both sat down, Virgil put on his sunglasses and dropped his cloak completely. It was symbolic or whatever. Letting his guard down in a visible way. He turned to the prince expectantly, a little annoyed at how the dark glasses limited his vision. Prince took in a deep breath and started his story. “The collector is an old enemy of Manifestor. He recruits Gifted, and those he thinks deserve to be gifted for some kind of revolution. You and I are probably his kind of people. Young, full of potential. All that stuff creeps like that love to go on about.” Virgil’s eyes widened. That did sound bad. He was suddenly very glad he had not confided in anyone about his powers so far. Who knew if the Chief was on the Collector’s payroll? Or maybe Picani was being spied on. “So we should be careful, you and I. I want to help you out,” Prince told him as he offered him two small objects. A stone and lip balm? “These can help you hide your identity without having to use your… Do you have a name for it?” Prince wondered. Virgil wasn’t sure if he could disguise his voice. But if he did, he was not going to risk Prince being someone from school who might recognize his voice. “Cloak,” he replied before dropping his guard again. “Cloak… Cool,” Prince nodded as he showed the black stone. “So this, is a voice modulator. I adjusted it to fit your tempest voice as best as I could.” Virgil couldn’t help laughing. Tempest voice? That sounded so cool honestly. But man was it dramatic. “You clearly have not heard it,” Prince pointed out and he had a point. He sounded normal to himself. “What’s with the lipstick?” he asked. “This will paint your hair black faster than any hair dye. It’s also a very good hair gel and it washes out right away,” Virgil bit his lip as Prince offered him the items. He was not used to being helped. Not as ‘Phantom’ at least. He still struggled with it as Virgil. Letting Roman help him with his English assignment yesterday had been hard. But he had to let people help him. He had to take a leap of faith here. So he took the items and got up to try them out. “No peeking!” he warned, though he would keep his cloak up. It was more to test if Prince would be tempted to go against his wishes. He didn’t. Virgil placed the modulator on his throat where Prince had his red stone and applied the balm to his hair. He spread it out and took a moment to decide on the style he wanted to go with. He tried for windblown, though he wasn’t sure if he did it right without a mirror. “Okay, let’s try this,” he said testing out his new voice. Wow, if that was what he really sounded like then Tempest voice might just have been the most accurate description. He looked back at Prince who was getting up and waling over to him. “Okay. So… what’s the plan?” he asked, curious what Prince was expecting out of this collaboration. “Well… We could try and meet up here regularly. We might not always patrol at the same time, and you might be busy. But I could… If you are okay with it… I could help you coordinate with the cops. Like you kinda suggested earlier. Or we could like, do some patrolling together? Keep each other company…” Oh, that was cute. Prince could be insecure. Virgil was starting to think he was unshakable. “It might be nice talking someone who gets it you know? You’re my age right?” he wondered. Nice try. Very subtle. “I mean… I guess, but I’m not sure how old you are exactly,” he shrugged casually. He wasn’t going to give anything away that easily. “Fair point.” Or maybe there hadn’t been an ulterior motive. He was getting paranoid. “Anyway… What do you want?” Virgil thought about that for a moment. He hadn’t expected to be asked for his opinion. “I mean… Debriefings sound cool,” he said casually. “I’d like to patrol with you, but my parkour is no match to that walking on air trick you got…” He was kind of jealous of that one if he was honest. “I was thinking of hanging around the clubbing district at the end of the night and making sure some party goers get home safe. I’ll see you around there when you’re done?” This talk was fun and all, but Prince should probably check in with his team soon. And Virgil needed to think about things for a minute. “That sounds like a good idea,” Prince agreed as he gave him a bow. “Until then. Know that the GTA’s resources are now at your disposal through me. So if you want to get a proper suit or other fun toys, you need only ask.” And with that Virgil’s new ally sprinted of into the night. A real suit huh? Virgil shook his head. He’d have to think on that some more. For now, he had work to do.

Hero au

@cirishere @hestianerd1 @moonlightshow00​ @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043​ @angelic-cali​ @selenechris​ @theblackveilinreverse

[obeyme-kaidii-writes]

Beginnings (3/9)

Mammon x ace gn!MC x ace!Leviathan

NOTE - read the content warnings listed in Part 1

[ AO3 | Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 ]

Levi almost dropped his DDD in shock. IT WAS TRUE. ITWASTRUEITWASTRUEITWASTRUE.

But wait. Now what was he supposed to do? He needed to confess! He needed to tell you how he felt! But how? Should he do some big romantic gesture? Make you a bento box and write “I love you” in ketchup on your omelette? No, that would take too long. He needed to tell you now, before you changed your mind.

A LETTER. That’s it. He could write a letter. That was still romantic, right? It would be more personal than a text message, that’s for sure. But would still let him make sure he got out everything he wanted to say, unlike a phone call or talking to you in person. And he wouldn’t need to be around while you read it either. A letter would be perfect.

After picking out the perfect stationary, Levi immediately set to work. It surprised him how easily the words flowed. But, if he thought about it, he had kinda imagined telling you all these things before, countless times really. How much he loved hanging out with you, how your smile always made him feel better, how he wished you’d hug him all the time, how one day he hopes he can just hold your hand while out on a date, how he wanted to cuddle with you in his tub…

Levi’s pen stilled, mid sentence, as a thought suddenly occurred to him.

He had never really talked to you much about relationships before, had he? He had no idea what your views were on those sorts of things. What were your expectations? Were you going to want him to spend the night in your room? How did you feel about kissing? How did you feel about…?

He felt his throat tighten. Right. That. You were with Mammon, so it was only logical that you both felt the same way about it. He couldn’t imagine his horny, clingy brother settling for anything else, really.

And then there was Levi. Levi who had known for a few centuries now that sex just didn’t appeal to him. He still found you plenty attractive, that wasn’t the issue. He wanted to touch you, and hold you close, and feel you touch him too. But that’s where his fantasies typically ended - the two of you cuddled up in his tub, a warm blanket tucked around you both, as you whispered sweet nothings to each other, like a scene ripped straight out of a shojo manga.

Once that small doubt started to creep in, so too did Levi’s other insecurities. He wouldn’t be a very good boyfriend after all. He’d probably forget important dates. Or neglect to pay attention to you when he hyper fixated on something. What did he even have to offer you anyways? He wasn’t particularly skilled, or attractive. Sure he could sew a bit and was somewhat decent at drawing, but those weren’t exactly the sorts of things you could build a relationship on.

Suddenly, writing a letter seemed like a very tall order indeed.

His initial reaction was of course to crumple it up and throw it away. But...he still loved you, even if he didn’t think he’d make for a very good boyfriend. And you had already told him how you felt. So shouldn’t he, as your friend, at least give you a response?

And shouldn’t he also, as your friend, encourage you to do what was best for you?

Even if “what was best” happened to be make up with his scumbag of a brother?

The thought made him feel sick. He couldn’t believe he was actually jealous of Mammon. He was fine to hang out with and all, but jeez. Having to admit that you were probably better off with him really stung. He knew it was true, though. He knew how well the two of you got along. He obviously made you happy. And even if Levi desperately wanted to be the one that was by your side instead, he knew he was no match for Mammon and all his charisma and charm.

——————

Ever since Levi had stopped replying to your text messages, you had been laying in your bed trying to go to sleep. But your over active imagination had other ideas, and your anxiety kept you awake. Maybe in the morning you could go apologize to Levi? Though you weren’t even sure what it was that you would be apologizing for.

You let out a sigh as you rolled onto your side, just as a slip of paper slid underneath the bottom of your door. You stared at it for awhile, wondering what it could be, before deciding to get up and check.

The envelope itself was a pastel pink in color. You immediately recognized it as belonging to a special Ruri-chan stationary set you had bought for Levi on a whim. Carefully you tore open the envelope, pulling out the letter enclosed inside. The page was decorated with cute little doodles and Azuki-tan stickers; it was obvious how much thought and care Levi had put into writing this. Not wanting to wait a moment longer, you began reading right where you stood by your bedroom door.

Dear Henry,

I decided writing a letter would be the best way to tell you how I feel, since talking to you face to face would be way too embarrassing.

I love you. A whole lot. More than Ruri-chan, if you can believe it.

I am so glad I got to meet you. And I’m glad you took the time to get to know me. I know I’m weird and awkward, but you still spent time with me anyways, and that meant a lot!

I really like playing games with you. Maybe someday I can make a game just for you? It probably wouldn’t be that great, but it would make me really happy if you were to play it.

Every time I hear about a new anime, I always ask myself if you would be interested in it. I love getting to try new things with you. Even if the things turn out to be terrible, it’s still more fun when we can watch them together.

I’d really like to take you out on a date too. I know of a coffee shop nearby that has the best drinks. I’ve been too nervous to go on my own yet, but maybe I could go with you? We could also go to an aquarium together! You haven’t been to a Devildom aquarium before, right? They’re a million times better than the ones in the human world! We would even be able to hold hands, and no one could see.

But I know none of that really matters. I’m still me, and you deserve someone better. Someone who will make you happy, who can take you to exciting new places. Someone who won’t forget important dates or ignore you when you come to hang out. I wouldn’t be good at any of those things.

As much as I hate to admit it, you and Mammon are really good together. You should go talk to him and try to work things out. He might be a scumbag, but he obviously loves you.

I hope you will at least still be my friend after this, but I can understand if you wouldn’t want to be friends with someone like me. Or if you would feel uncomfortable around me now that you know how I feel. I really made things awkward, didn’t I?

Love,

Levi

Levi had spilled his heart out to you, in a way you didn’t even think possibly from the shy demon. He talked about how much he loved you, all the ways that you made his life better just by being there, and all the things he was looking forward to doing with you, specifically several cliche date ideas from his favorite manga, the thought of which had you smiling.

But then somewhere around the middle, the tone of the letter shifted dramatically. It was no longer the excited love confession you had started with. It was like someone had zapped Levi of all his confidence, and in a matter of moments he was back to his usual self deprecating ways.

When you finished, you flipped the letter over, hoping to find more on the back. But that was it. A single sheet of paper that started out as a heartfelt love confession, and then ended, ultimately, in a rejection.

You wanted to run to Levi’s room immediately, demanding an explanation. You also wanted to assure him that just because you were with Mammon, didn’t mean you were going to be giving up on him either.

But before you did any of that, you would have to talk to Mammon. You needed to figure out where things stood with him, and why he told Levi about how you felt. Was he intending to break up with you? Or maybe there was a slim chance that he’d changed his mind?

Determined to get some answers, you wrapped a light robe around you, tucking the letter from Levi into one of your pockets, before silently slipping out of your bedroom.

You had put this conversation off long enough. It was time for you to settle things with Mammon.

[erensnubs]

𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕

Oikawa x F! Reader

Chapter 3

Word count: 1.7k

Random posts:

"So… Sho how's school been?" You ask him as you're pinning up Natsu's hair into "fairy braids".

They were essentially little flowers braided into sections of her hair.

Sho looks occupied. You think its his volleyball team.

"School's okay I guess. But volleyball is SOOO COOL! I NEVER KNEW YOU AND DAICHI-SAN, AND ASAHI-SAN AND SUGAWARA-SENPAI WERE CLOSE?!"

You start laughing, "Sugawara senpai what?!?"

Shoyo looks at you quizzically, "What do you mean? That's what he said to call him."

You giggle. God that man is too funny, you think.

"Okay enough about my upcoming volleyball career," Shoyo says while you roll your eyes.

"How's your manager life?"

You shrug your shoulders as you delicately place a flower into Natsu's hair.

"Well, me and the captain are on good terms now. And I think I'm somewhat friends with people on the team," you say thoughtfully.

Yesterday, you and Oikawa studied over the weekend at the coffee shop. It was surprising for you to see the proud captain turn almost submissive when you studied with your project together and when you talked about volleyball. You knew in the back of his mind he still felt bad about the way he mistreated you, but now you were fine.

"Well guess what? Daichi-san and Asahi-san want you to go out with them sometime! They miss you," Shoyo adds.

When you first came to Karasuno, you quickly became friends with Fuki and Riki. You were your own separate group, the artsy bitches who liked editing and drawing random shit, making concept art and scribbling doodles on each other's papers.

Then one day you decided to sit next to the shy boy-man? Man-boy? The boy with the man bun? Whatever. You decided to sit next to him during lunch, because your regular seating area was taken.

Next to the man bun boy was, stoic boy and beauty mark boy.

You didn't know that these boys were going to be the next best friends of your lives.

There you formed a friendship with three of the sweetest men you've ever met in your life.

It started off with talking about how brown is actually a good ass color, then to how the school lunches could have better milk, to groaning about essays together.

To them supporting you with your family, and you with volleyball.

"You're so stupid Riki!! Its the answer B obviously!!" Sugawara says slamming his hand on the lunch table.

You and Daichi start giggling as Riki rolls her eyes.

"What if it's not B, huh Koushi? What if it's actually C?!?" Riki retorts.

You chuckle with the memories of lunch arguments, walking together, and trips to the city with each other.

Later, you helped Daichi find a manager for the volleyball team, Kiyoko Shimizu and later became a friend of yours.

You never wanted to admit it but all of them became a found family, a fantasy that you recreated in your head over and over when you spent time with them, just because of how fucked up yours was.

You loved Suga's laugh and the way he held you while you were boisterously laughing about something stupid, but you hated the way that you knew that it was something friends did. And not what family did.

You loved it when Riki, Fuki and Shimizu came over and did your face with makeup because it made you feel like you were being pampered by aunts and sisters you didn't have.

When Asahi and Daichi constantly checked on your wellbeing, even until now, when you moved schools for Christ's sake. It made your heart clench in pity, because you know this is the closest thing to parents checking up on you.

The sad thing is? Is while you're over here playing found family, the rest of them were just doing something that friends do.

That's why you distanced yourself from all 4 of them when you moved schools.

But Shoyo, he had to remind you about them.

"Yeah.. I.. Uh… I miss them too," you say slowly, braiding the rest of Natsu's hair.

Natsu leans back against you and hands you your phone.

"You don't wanna play minecraft anymore?" You ask.

She shakes your head, "No Kiyoko is calling you!"

She waves the phone in your hands and you feel the vibration of the call.

Oh god, did Kiyoko figure it out?

With shaky fingers you pull the phone from Natsu's grasp and answer the call.

"Hey Kiyoko-"

"I'm outside your house…"

You sputter your words out, "What?!?! Kiyoko?!"

"I'm waiting for you so we can finally go out together."

She pauses.

"Just you and me," her soft voice carried comfort to you.

"Okay… I'll go soon. I'm outside with Sho and Natsu," you say picking yourself up and turning off your phone.

You wave goodbye to them and gesture with your other hand to the phone.

Shoyo gives you a thumbs up and goes back to playing outside with Natsu smiling.

You run back inside and grab your shoes and jacket and throw them on. You flung the door open and see Kiyoko Shimizu in all her grace, beauty and splendor.

"Kiyoko-"

She grabbed your hand and pulled you close to her chest and squeezed you tight.

"Me and Daichi were scared, you know. We all were. Very worried about you," she starts off quietly.

"Tell us, [Name], when something's wrong. It hurts us when you don't."

You sink into Kiyoko's arms and relish the feeling of them.

"I will. I'm sorry for not doing that."

She pulls away and gives you a soft smile, her beauty mark perking up.

"It's fine [Name]... Now get in the car! We're gonna go eat out today!"

"I'll have meal 1 please," you tell the waiter.

"Meal 5 with a side of tofu as well," Kiyoko adds.

The waiter leaves and now it's just you two You were at the ramen shop near Seijoh.

Which just so happened to be the Ramen shop that was close to the convenience store near Seijoh.

The convenience shop that you and Oikawa went to.

You shake your head to get him out of it.

"Uh…You okay?" Kiyoko said questionably.

You wave her away, "Yeah I'm fine. Just remembering something weird."

She leans forward,"Hmm okay. But hey. Heard you became a manager at Seijoh.. You trying to one up me or something?"

She smirks and you scoff.

"Kiyoko please. I learned everything from you. I don't know how I would manage this great team without your prior knowledge I would have never survived," you say.

You sigh and look up, "They're one of the best in the whole prefecture and I'm in charge of them. The pressure is real."

Kiyoko pats your hand affectionately, "I bet. I mean Oikawa and this other dude from another school have been butting heads with each other ever since middle school. It's his last year so Oikawa is probably incredibly stressed."

You raise an eyebrow, "I mean Oikawa has been a little on the edge, but I didn't know it was from some dude since fucking middle school."

"Yeah. Ushi-Waka from Shiratorizawa. He's also from a powerhouse school. The best in the prefecture. They've gone to Nationals, multiple times. Ushi-Waka is in Japan's best under 18," Kiyoko says softly, like she was passing secret information to you.

You not, sipping your water as you let her continue.

"Oikawa has always been beaten by Shiratorizawa and has NEVER made it to nationals. Once! So this year is his last year, he gets 2 chances and then poof!" Kiyoko says.

Her hands are in a circle and they suddenly break.

"Bye bye volleyball career."

You were taken aback.

No, you were stunned.

You always knew Oikawa was determined but God, this puts it on a whole nother level of determination. You wonder how stressed the team was when Oikawa supervised. Or vice versa. You wonder how stressed Oikawa was when he supervised.

Is that why Iwaizumi encouraged you to book practices with college volleyball teams? Probably. The more practice the better, you remember him saying.

Oh and how could you forget the dark circles under his eyes.

You lean back and exhale, "Wow. I feel horrible for not knowing."

Kiyoko sighs, "You should know as a MANAGER, but didn't you have a rough start with him?"

You nod and recount the events that took place as the waiter sets down your food.

"But that was yesterday so I guess we just started our 'working relationship'", you finally say.

Kiyoko lets out a low whistle, "Looks like you got your work cut out for you sweetheart. Our team is in the works."

Her voice drops lower and she grins evilly,

"We'll beat you, [Name], I have hope for this team."

You grin back, "We'll see about that."

The two of you talk back and forth about other things for a while, laughing about the dumb shit Sugawara pulled and the new students.

You pause, "How's Hinata doing? I don't know if you remember him but he's a family friend."

Kiyoko smiles, "He's doing wonderful. Had a rocky start with another 1st year but they're friends now."

"Oh I remember him telling me that. Kageyama?"

"Yes. He was a middle school prodigy. Came from the same school as Oikawa and most of the Seijoh players actually," Kiyoko informs him.

"Huh," you say mentally noting that fact into your mind.

"Anyways, I'm glad we…you know. Got to talk. Hopefully we can go and hang out again with the others," you say as both of you clean up your table and walk out.

"Same. But Karasuno is gonna beat you at the practice game next week," Kiyoko says with a wink.

"Pfft Seijoh will wipe your asses over the gym floor," you say.

You're in your bed, covered in blankets and half asleep from your eventful day. When your eyes finally fluttered to sleep, your phone buzzed.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

You pick up your phone lazily and open up the messages.

Oikawa?

You groan. What is so goddamn urgent that he wants to meet with you so early in the morning?

You push the thoughts and the judgements out of your mind and go to bed early.

So much for a day out to relieve stress.

[Name] and Kiyoko both have a slight obsession with milk tea

IMPORTANT INFORMATION TO DISCLOSE

Kiyoko introduced [Name], to the more traditional Japanese food when she moved here rather than the trendy ones portrayed in the Media

Unbeknownst to [Name], Kiyoko keeps tabs on the Seijoh boys just in case something bad happens.

Prev/next

Taglist: @tanakasimpcorner @zukoslosthishonor ​@saladskittles​

A note from Chef Tina: ty for sticking with me everyone for this fic! I feel like my efforts on writing this are paid off! Pls like, reblog or comment! It would help a lot! 

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

Soulmate Shenanigans

So, lucky me, I found this list of prompts!

Unlucky me, it was for a September event. Surprise, surprise, this is not September

That isn’t going to stop me from doing this, though!

So, without further ado, prompt number one!

Your Soulmate’s name is written on your wrist or palm

Warnings for death mentions galore and drowning, as well as something that isn’t drug use, but if drug use is a triggering topic for you I wouldn’t recommend you read

Not as angsty as these warnings would suggest, but there is still Angst

I don’t know how it got angsty I just work here

World building

The first recorded instance of a palm mark was when Lady Natalia of Venice nearly drowned in a canal

She’d been on her way home from a party alongside her fiance when she “tripped” (the word “tripped” here means “Was pushed by her fiance for financial reasons”) into the river. Her husband-to-be quickly exited the scene, leaving her to be weighed down by her skirts and die.

Angela (forger of swords and mixer of poisons, just happened to be in the neighborhood when she heard a scream and a splash) had other plans. She dove into the water, saving Natalia and cutting her hand in the process.

The two women spent a good deal of time together after that, the scientific Natalia claiming that she only wanted to know why her name was on Angela’s hand.

Some historians claim that the two were platonic soulmates. While this is possible, and platonic soulmates have a long and wonderful history, no one with common sense believes this to be the case

They exchanged love letters that were quite clear that the attraction was a romantic one.

Some historians also claim that there isn’t enough evidence to suggest that they killed the fiance.

Those historians are wrong.

Anyway, in modern days 97% of the population has a palm mark with the name of their soulmate

The tattoo industry has never had so many illegal opportunities

When your soulmate dies, the name doesn’t scar. It doesn’t blister, burn, or black out. All that happens is a thin, impersonal line crossing their name out. Some people don’t notice who they lost for days.

There’s a process to remove palm marks. However, it’s illegal and possibly fatal for the soulmate being removed.

Our Characters

Roman: Roman was confused by the name of his soulmate.

Who names their kid “Janus”?

Am I soulmates with a roman deity? The heck?? SO MANY QUESTIONS AND SO LITTLE ANSWERS

Roman was so excited to have a soulmate. He kept entire journals filled with things he wanted to tell Janus, part diary, part scrapbook, and part love letter. He would doodle hearts around his palm mark.

One night, in April, Roman went to sleep. In the morning, there was a line across his palm.

His soulmate had died, and he hadn’t even seen the line drawn. He broke a little.

Enough said.

Roman took the passion that he’d had for his Janus and channeled it into his acting. If he couldn’t get love, he’d get a fucking Tony Award.

Remus: Remus had been annoyed by his brother’s complaining.

“Oh, boo-hoo, my soulmate has a rare name. That means that as soon as I meet him, I’ll know exactly who he is! Roman, DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE NAMED LOGAN”

Remus was annoyed that his soulmate had the audacity to have a common name. In theory, he could date all of the 18,000 Logans in the country, but does he really have the time?

He and his brother bicker about this for a solid seven years, until the argument abruptly ends. Ever since then, he’s been on his brother’s side in everything he can.

Logan: It made total sense for Logan to not have a soulmate.

His soulmate would have been unlucky, being stuck with a know-it-all like him, at least according to most of the people he knew.

This was a simple solution to the puzzle.

It wasn’t helpful to waste time wishing for a different one.

Janus: Janus had a whole plan for when he met his soulmate.

He wrote it down in 10th grade

Step 1: Wear gloves

Step 2: Find Roman

Step 3: Say something witty

Step 4: Remove gloves, revealing palm

Step 5: This little mystery is over and done with, and hopefully my soulmate isn’t boring

This was how a lot of Janus’s plans would work. Solid ideas, but missing bits and important pieces. This includes his heist plan he scribbled out on a napkin on an April day.

Step 1: Find local con-artists

Step 2: Pretend to be a person with money (which I obviously do not have)

Step 3: Scam them

Step 4: Don’t get murdered on the way out

Step 5: Profit

He pulled off steps 1-3 with ease, but step 4 proved to be a sticking point.

As he escaped via the river, with money in his hands and a “so long, suckers!” on his lips for drama, he thought nothing could go wrong

Fun fact: It’s rather common for con artists to fatally give away their positions by yelling “so long, suckers!”. Just ask Odysseus as he sailed away from the Cyclops.

The con artists shot wildly at his boat, blowing it to pieces. As he went down with the ship, he barely had enough time to think this can’t be happening, and fuck this and I’m going to die at the same age as Philip fucking Hamilton and I really don’t want to go to hell before his lungs filled with water and his heart stopped.

And Janus died.

For a solid two minutes.

Technically, death is when your heart ceases to beat. Even though people have been revived after their hearts have stopped, it is death, and enough to draw a line across a sleeping Roman’s hand.

Janus, however, was saved by an old man, who dragged him out of the river and forced the water out of his lungs. The old man took one look at the teenager and decided that he needed better role models, which is how Patton took Janus under his wing and saved his life in more ways than one.

The Actual Plot

Roman is in a city production of Hamlet. His brother is in the audience, his friend is fixing the lighting, and he’s ready to go.

It’s a pretty good performance, by all accounts, but especially according to Janus.

He’d already been watching the main actor intently, smiling from the mezzanine, but he was even more intrigued when he read the playbill and realized his name was Roman. He could barely pay attention to act five as he planned out the lies he’d tell to get backstage.

Somehow, he didn’t get caught sneaking around, and managed to catch a glimpse of Roman’s hand in a mirror. Janus. He really is his soulmate!

Janus walks over to Roman, says something that isn’t as witty as he would have liked (but not as bad as it could have been), and removes his glove.

Now, he expected his soulmate could have a variety of reactions. He didn’t expect Roman to yell “Not today, ghost!”, throw a prop skull at him, and sprint out of the theater. Janus caught a glimpse of the line through his name.

He was reasonably sure that he wasn’t dead? He could see his reflection in mirrors, he could consume salt, people tended to notice his existence!

Jan didn’t have much time to mull over this, as he was about to be forcibly removed from the greenroom. Logan just wanted to fix the lighting and live his life, but when strangers break into the backstage and upset Roman...

Jan skedaddles as Logan chases him out of the building. The nerd has almost caught the intruder when he runs directly into a man in a green jacket holding a coffee cup full of ketchup

Why did he have a coffee cup full of ketchup?

Remus and Logan bicker as Janus escapes. When Remus realizes Logan’s name, he asks a few questions, but Logan quickly shows his two blank palms, and the matter is settled.

Everything seems over and done with.

Meanwhile, Roman is freaking out. His mind is essentially in a loop of The fuck? The fuck? The actual fuck? He’s completely unsure of what to do. Is he seeing ghosts? Does he only believe he’s seeing ghosts? Is he sane or not?

Remus checks up on his brother at around 3 am, only to find him, exhausted, and writing in his old soulmate journal. Roman tries to explain what just happened, but the narrative told isn’t exactly coherent. All Remus can gather is that

1. His brother thinks that his dead soulmate is alive

2. This is because some guy snuck backstage and told him that he was the dead soulmate in question

3. This was probably the guy Logan was chasing

Remus convinced Roman to go to sleep, and walked out of the apartment with blood on his mind. He was sure that his brother was being manipulated.

This guy might not be dead now, but he would be soon.

Meanwhile, Janus proves that he can, in fact, cross a salt circle, so he must be alive! Right?? He also can’t get a certain actor out of his head, and wonders what his next move should be.

Remus recruits Logan to help him do some investigation in case Shady Liar Dude shows up. They go on several stakeouts together, in equally improbable locations. Maybe the two of them got too far into the secret agent aesthetic. Logan had always wanted to be a detective as a kid.

They fall for each other, and fast

Roman is spiraling, and a chat with Remus has him convinced that he was wrong, and Janus really is dead. He curses himself for believing in the pretty fairy-tale. Yes, because love wins in the end and they all live happily ever after. He has a performance tomorrow.

And it’s really time he got rid of the old scar.

You don’t hang around Remus without knowing where the black market locations are. It’s relatively easy to find the cure for palm marks.

He paces around backstage, holding a journal in one hand and a small bottle in the other. The warning that destroying the palm mark destroys the soulmate causes terror to rise in his throat, even though he knows that Janus is dead and can never read his love letters no matter how many stars he wishes on.

He finally makes his choice when Remus and Logan visit him before the performance. They give him looks of pity. He doesn’t want to be pitied.

According to the label, effects should take place over the next several hours. So, he waits for Janus’s name to disappear from his hand.

Janus managed to hustle someone with orchestra seats for their tickets. Despite not getting off on the right foot with his soulmate, he isn’t going to let him go that easily. And Roman’s brilliant performance that night just reinforces that. If he was good weeks ago, he was a star now. Janus was transfixed.

When the curtain call came, Janus was the first on his feet for a standing ovation. Remus and Logan noticed him, and pushed their way through the applauding audience. Both of them almost hoped that he’d get away again so they could continue spending time together.

Roman notices him. They lock eyes. Janus waves as though to say Hi, I’m here, apologies for the awkwardness of our meet-cute, but coffee? Roman gives him a look of disdain, as if to say I can’t believe I thought you were my soulmate, you con artist. He intends to look away and bask in the applause, but before he can do that, Janus collapeses.

Roman is confused at first, and then it clicks. That’s his soulmate. That’s his Janus.

And he killed him.

Pandemonium breaks out. Roman leaps off the stage, Remus freezes in panicked comprehension, the crowd scatters, and several people try to reach the dying man.

Logan gets there first. His mind scans memories of hours spent in libraries, researching everything there is to know about palm marks. Why didn’t some people have them? How did you lose them? How could you get them back?

He instructs Remus and Roman to help carry Janus to the greenroom.

They race him there, everyone in a state of panic (including Logan, but more importantly he has a job to do). Logan tells Remus to run and get a few basic ingredients, and they wait. Time moves much too fast and much too slow, until he comes back.

Logan works chemical wonders, piecing together Roman’s hand until everything is stabilized.

A vicious scar, the type you’d except if your soulmate was really gone, forms on Roman’s palm, and it will stay there for the rest of his days.

Janus comes back from death’s door for the second time.

After The Drama

Logan and Remus eventually move past the “but I don’t have a soulmate” “and yet I still am in love with you” dithering and go on a date that isn’t for the purpose of stalking a supposed stalker.

They go to the aquarium.

Meanwhile, there’s a lot to work out between Roman and Janus. From “wow, you’re not dead” to “wow, I nearly murdered you”, we don’t have time to unpack all that.

But they do get coffee. And they talk.

Soulmate stuff! I really like soulmate aus, despite not liking to write straight up romance

It’s weird

Anyway, hope you enjoyed!

[creativeskullcreations]

Buddy’s Problem part 2

Okay! Part two is done! Part three probably isn't gonna be until after the New Year, though, but it should be the final part.

Enjoy the story, and have a Merry Christmas! :D

As it turned out, being a campaign manager was pretty difficult, especially when Buddy had to travel to a whole different town for it. Filbo lived in a small farming town called Kinsing. Several other members of the expedition lived there too, though Wiggle, Gramble, and Cromdo lived in Gippsenburg. Either way, apparently Filbo wasn't very well known, having moved to Kinsing recently.

That was useful, and Buddy could totally work with that.

First was getting him nominated, which was easy as anyone could throw their name in. Filbo actually did that himself, though he needed some coaxing from Buddy to actually put it into the box. They then went out for burgers(not Bungers, thankfully) afterwards. They were joined by Beffica, who was shocked that Filbo was running for a real political position.

"Like, seriously? That's awesome you squeeb!" She gave him a soft punch to the arm, which he winced at. She didn't notice, or maybe just ignored it. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"Well, I mean, I ended up doing pretty good back at Snax- on Snaktooth, so I figured I might as well try for the real thing." He told her, rubbing the soon-to-be-bruise. "Worst thing that could happen is I'll lose to Robbzoni."

"Ugh, Robbzoni. He's the worst." She helped herself to Buddy's fries, even as he tried to yank the plate away from her. "He's the real reason we don't have anymore flowers by the roads. He kept stealing them, so eventually the town stopped replacing them."

"How the grump did you find that out, Beff?" Buddy asked before shoving the whole handful of remaining fries into his mouth. She just shrugged and went for Filbo's plate instead.

"I snooped, Bestie. Just like I always do. Did." She corrected herself quickly, looking away. "I, uh, used to do that."

"So..." Buddy searched for a new topic. "What do you do now, anyways?"

"Oh, I got hired as a reporter at CGN. It's a bit of a commute, but not so bad." She shrugged. "And my coworkers aren't so bad, either."

Ah, the rival for GNN. Buddy remembered all the fights that had broken out between reporters at events. He also remembered the time he raided their office with some of his coworkers and stole all of their paperclips. It was in retaliation for them stealing all the rubber-bands at GNN. Which was to get back at them for stealing all of CGN's staples.

Good times.

"Here." He dug out a bottle of pepper-spray and handed it to the shorter Grumpus. "You'll need this."

"Uh." She looked between him and the large canister. "... Thanks. I think."

"No problem." He took a long drag on his soda as the conversation drifted away from him. Which was just fine, as he was busy brainstorming anyways, writing down plans and ideas into his journal. So far he didn't have a lot, but he'd talk to Filbo about it later and see what they could do.

Maybe a party? Filbo always seemed to like them, back on Snaktooth, so maybe that would be a good way to win him some votes.

The rest of the time passed by in a blur. Events were held, debates, parties, even a couple of bake sales that reminded Buddy of his school days. Speeches were made, each carefully crafted to have the best effect on the small populace of the town.

Wambus was actually a big help with that. As a farmer himself, he knew what to say to get and keep the farmers on Filbo's side. So they ended up conferring with him a lot, which meant going to his and Triffany's house a lot.

He was a surprisingly good cook, honestly. The meals they shared there were some of the best Buddy ever ate. He really would miss those nights when everything was done here, but that was no reason not to continue the "quest" for Filbo.

It was one such night, where Wambus had grilled some delicious steaks and corn on the cobs. He also had some homegrown sauces that he'd brought from Snaktooth, which made Buddy a little uneasy. But, the older farmer seemed to know what he was doing with that so he let it go for now.

"You seem to be getting pretty popular, dear." Triffany was saying to Filbo as Buddy doodled in his journal. He flipped it around to show Wambus his idea of a steak-based Bugsnax, only for the farmer to just grunt in acknowledgement. That was good enough for him though and he put the book aside to eat some more.

"Heh, yeah." Filbo rolled his corn on the cob in some butter. "It's all thanks to Buddy, though. He's doing great on the whole 'campaign manager' thing."

"It's not that hard." Buddy shrugged. "Not like you're running for Minister of the Public or something. It's just a few events to plan, and, like, two debates."

"True, but it still seems like a lot of work." Filbo actually looked kind of concerned, but Buddy waved it off.

"It's... it's really not." He told them, even though it kind of was. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a full night's sleep, but it was definitely before Snaktooth.

"It would be tiring to be around all those people all the time." Wambus agreed. "I could never do that."

"Of course not, dear." Triffany agreed. "That's why you're a farmer."

"Yep."

Buddy watched the exchange with a small smile as Filbo took over the conversation, asking after the sauce crops. Whatever problems the couple had, he was glad they were working them out. He didn't want to even think about what would've happened if their marriage had broken up like...

Well, it wasn't good to dwell on it.

Wambus was right though; it was tiring being a campaign manager. He was almost glad the elections were ending soon, if only so he could get some more sleep. And then focus on finding a real job, as his savings were starting to run a little dry.

Still, as he watched his three companions, he felt content with how it was shaping up. Filbo was excitedly explaining all his plans for being Mayor, from replanting the flowers around the walking paths to finally getting the pot holes fixed. He even started explaining his plans to renovate the park in detail before Wambus finally reminded him to actually eat his steak.

"Oh, heh. Right." He cut a piece off, then opened his mouth to keep talking. Buddy took the opportunity to grab his wrist and shove the fork into his mouth.

"Eat it." He told him firmly, to quiet giggling from Triffany. Filbo shot him a glare, but obeyed, chewing quietly. Buddy then grabbed a forkful of his own steak to chew on, ignoring Triffany's pointed look.

The rest of the night passed without incident. In Buddy's opinion, it ended too soon. But then, it always did. And soon enough Buddy was back at his table in his apartment, drawing up more plans for the campaign. Luckily, the people seemed to really like Filbo. Or maybe they just hated Robbzoni that much more. Either way, according to the mid election survey Filbo was looking to be the popular candidate.

Still, he couldn't relax yet, there was still too much to do. The election itself was tomorrow. People would vote in the morning and the results would be announced both that afternoon, and in the next morning's paper. There would be one last speech before the vote though, and Buddy wanted to make sure it was perfect.

However as the time got later, and he had started the speech pretty later anyways, he found himself unwillingly drawn into sleep. Even as he tried to fight it off with copious amounts of caffeine, he inevitably passed out.

When he woke up, it was to Filbo calling him. In a panic, he grabbed his papers and raced out the door, practically flying down the stairs and into his car. He broke several traffic laws, but he managed to get to Kinsing Town Hall just barely on time. As he ran inside, he tried desperately to sort through the garbled mess of a speech he'd written.

He made his way to the backstage area, where Filbo was talking to... someone. Buddy felt like he should know the other Grumpus, but his exhausted mind just refused to make the connection. In any case, as soon as the Grumpus had left he was rushing up to Filbo, rapidly spewing apologies all the way.

"Sorry, sorry! I think I still have some time to, uh, to-to fix this? Maybe?!" His voice rose an octave and he quickly cleared his throat and tried to laugh off the rising panic. "I was up too late I think. Working. On this." He gave another short laugh, internally wincing at how off it sounded.

"Hey hey, it's okay." Filbo had to grab his shoulders, forcing them down from where Buddy had unconsciously hunched into himself. "I've got this one." He told him. Buddy blinked in surprise, hands lowering and almost dropping his papers.

"... You... you 'got' this?" Just what did he mean by that? Was Buddy unneeded? Had he been unneeded this whole time?

"Yeah. Since you've been working so hard lately, I figured I'd just, y'know, handle my own speech for today. " He gave a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry, I probably should've told you sooner-Oh!" He jumped at something the Grumpus on stage was saying. "There's my cue! See ya later!" He gave a quick wave before rushing off to get on stage, oblivious to Buddy's aborted attempt to reach for him.

'He didn't need me...' Quietly, Buddy dropped his speech into the trash. He then went for the snack table they had set up to get some coffee. 'I don't know why I even tried.'

The speeches were said, and then the voting happened. The surprising part, at least to Buddy, was that as they each voted the other members of the expedition would come up to them. A couple offered a "Good luck" or two, but none of them really left afterwards. They all hung around, and talked.

It made Buddy feel even more like he shouldn't have come. Filbo had plenty of people to keep him company for this, he didn't need Buddy Nobody did anymore.

So he sat just a little bit outside of the group, speaking only when someone talked to him directly. Other than that, he just drank his coffee quietly and wondered when would be a good time for him to leave.

It turned out never. The others never forgot about him for long enough for him to be able to slip away. Floofty in particular seemed intent on watching him, and they weren't blinking. He knew this because he straight up had a staring contest with the mad scientist, and they didn't blink once.

Soon enough, voting had closed and the votes were being counted. Poor Filbo was anxious through the whole thing, but never said anything about regretting running for mayor. Buddy was actually kind of proud of him for that, if he was being honest. He knew how hard the light blue Grumpus could be on himself, and he was glad he had gained some confidence at least.

Even if it was just another sign that he wasn't a help to him anymore. That he wasn't a help to anyone here anymore.

But, when they announced that Filbo had won, that he'd done it and beat out longtime Mayor Robbzoni, everyone present cheered. And not just the ones from Snaxburg, either, but everyone else who was hanging around. As everyone congratulated the new Mayor, and the MC announced when the official swearing in ceremony would take place, Buddy gave a quiet sigh into his coffee. Mentally, he ticked this quest as complete, but no new objectives came to mind.

"Hey, Buddy!" He looked up to see Filbo waving at him, and gave a small wave back. "We'll all going to Gramble's place to celebrate. You coming?"

Would he go? No. There wasn't anything for him to do there and besides, he had to get started on job hunting.

"... You guys go on ahead. I'll... I'll catch up with you later." There. Now he could go home and the others could get started on whatever came next for them.

Filbo hesitated a moment, searching Buddy's face intently. Then he shrugged and turned to follow the others. "Well, okay. If you're sure."

And then he was gone, along with the rest. Buddy put down his still full cup and stood up, dusting his fur off. He went to his car, a tiny little red thing that really needed to be traded in, and drove down the road back to Gippsenburg. He had a stop to make before he went home to his apartment, and then maybe he could finally work on forgetting everything.

[cats-artbag]

.:From story to thumbnail (SwapOut):.

@eaudecrow​ @chatxkilluaxnoir​

I’m so sorry I’m getting to these so late, my brain wanted to organize the thoughts regarding to this topic first, but I decided to start typing it out and will try my best to explain my process to you!

------------------------

I had an idea one day which was something like “US!Pap dressing up as UT!Pap” that became “A skelebro impersonating the other”, which resulted in this phone doodle in April 2016 (and then later considered a sans version)

Then I wanted to make it into a story, so I began to think of some sort of a beginning, and an end, which are kinda easier to think of than the middle part. In fact I’m probably still thinking of how to make the middle better haha

I knew from the start that I wanted to do a crossover between Underswap and Undertale, and have a skelebro from one universe impersonate the other. And for trippy, inter-universal travel to happen, I had to think of a reason for Swap to activate his time machine, which is usually a last resort.

So here I figured out and established a setting that I wanted to start off in:

Starts in Genocide route in UnderSwap/Undertale where Frisk/Chara doesn’t return. US!Papyrus lost his US!Sans to Frisk. He killed them but now he's moping around, waiting for them to RESET... but nobody came. (Well... he did say if Frisk truly was their friend, they wouldn't come back.) There's no RESET. US!Sans never comes back home. No one does.

Which left me with this summary for the story:

“US!Papyrus snaps in his timeline and accidentally travels to UT where he ______.”

At this point I didn’t know how I’d end it, but I knew I’d loosely follow a route in Undertale where he’d end up [REDACTED], so it wasn’t like I was working completely from scratch in the first place for this story. I was never good at making things up from scratch, so working off of something that already exists i.e. doing fanart makes it easier. At the same time, I didn’t want to be unoriginal, which is hard haha ;;

Since he was going to the classic UT universe, I knew he’d have to interact with the characters there along the way before he finally reached the end.

So while keeping all that in mind, I finished typing a first draft of the entire story.

Yes, I typed the ENTIRE script for the comic before I started drawing anything.

Which, honestly? ...I think you’re supposed to do??

But when you’re young and just starting off comics, it’s easy to be impatient and to want to just work off the top of your head as you draw your comic...

I literally can’t do that though, as proven by my old comics that I never got around to drawing more than 2 pages of before I didn’t know where I was going. It’s also why I’m terrified of attempting the kinds of tumblr comics that swerve based on asks from people haha! I really admire the people who are able to do so.

I actually typed all these early thoughts here when I posted the first SwapOut page

Anyway after typing the first draft of the script, I finally let myself start the thumbnails. My script was divided into how much I thought would fit in a comic page as I typed, so I drew a thumbnail based on each divided section.

For example :

(these thumbnails are usually posted in the $2 tier on my patreon!)

The way I type my scripts is not standard at all, so if I know how I’ll draw them, I type their actions with their dialogue mashed together x’D But usually I’ll just type the dialogue by itself and keep going, spacing them out for each page. Also it’s good to arrange them so it helps the page flow naturally reading from left to right. (same with drawing as well!)

After that, I kinda use the thumbnail directly as a sketch nowadays (cos i’m a lazybones) and go straight into doing lines (or a more detailed sketch if the thumbnail is too rough/vague)

And that’s pretty much it! It took me a while to choose a page for an example haha but I think this is one of my favourites

As for Chapter 5, all the new pages were actually the scenes with Swap blasting his blaster! They weren’t originally planned in the script but I wanted to add more to the comic rather than him just enter the void and get out haha

I think a page probably takes me two days if I already have the thumbnail ready and I’m working on it straight without breaks, but I’ve been doing more of those which honestly makes my life on this a little easier (less grumpy and more relaxed yes please)

Again sorry this took so long to reply to! I’m also thinking of doing a more detailed tutorial thing for my Patreon but I feel like I already explained most of it here haha ;; Maybe more red flow line examples of my pages? idk

Asks are always welcome! I just suck at replying to them aha ;;

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

Bells

Part 2 of the Soulmate AU commission for @if-i-rise-with-yoongs​!

Warnings: None, this is literally so cute I almost died

Word Count: 1667

It's called tinnitus, Jungkook learns, when he hears this incessant ringing in his ears, like tinkling bells.

Tinnitus, the doctor said, and when Jungkook asked him what to do about it, he just kinda shrugged.

It had started after dance practice one day, when he'd bumped into you in the hallway, and he's red faced and apologetic when you smile and he hears it, this faint tinkling sound in the inner shell of his ear. 

He knows it's coming from inside his head, but at first he'd thought it was coming from you, maybe the jingle of the bracelets you always wore on your delicate wrists. Then you'd smiled at him and walked away, and the sound remained.

So anyway, now Jungkook is left with a big stupid crush on you (which isn't new) and an extremely annoying ringing in his ears (which is new), and it's a real bitch to focus on anything.

At first, he can ignore it with earbuds, soft music playing to drown it out. After a few days, it goes from annoying to almost unbearable, every time there's a drop in the music or a lull in conversation it seems almost deafening, a cacophony of sounds, as if someone were ringing several different sets of bells.

He's frustrated and angry when it makes him miss steps in choreo, miss his cues in the studio. Jungkook hates not being able to do his best, and this stupid fucking tinnitus was driving him crazy.

Then he sees you in the hall again when he's barrelling out of the studio, fighting tears because of how hard it was to record, and the second he locks eyes with you, the ringing just... stops.

He blinks, and then braces his hand against the doorjamb, almost dizzy from relief.

"Jeon Jungkook-ssi?" You call, your face concerned. 

You place a hand on his arm and he looks at it dumbly, your small fingers gentle on his bicep. 

"Are you okay?"

"Thank you," he blurts, and you look at him quizzically and he feels his face flushing, doesn't know how to take back the stupid thing he'd just said, so he just brushes past you, mumbling apologies.

Yoongi asks him why he's covering his face in the car and Jungkook just shakes his head in mortification.

Jungkook had never been good at talking to people, especially women, and his tongue seemed to swell in his mouth when you smiled at him.

He hadn't had the courage to even respond to you the first few times you'd brought coffee or lunch to them during meetings, just a nod and a smile back at you, trying not to blush when your hand brushed his.

He wasn't very good at talking, but he was good at watching. You had this habit of biting at the cuticle on your thumb while you worked, and sometimes you stuck your tongue out while you were concentrating hard on something. You doodled little stars while you took messages on the phone. You wore these bangle bracelets with star charms on them, too, and finally, Jungkook works up the nerve to talk to you.

He stands at your desk for a full minute before he can get his mouth to open.

"Do you like stars?" He blurts out, and he wants to fade from existence when you look up at him, startled.

You smile, possibly out of pity, but it makes his heart feel lighter all the same.

"Yeah. They're kind of my thing." 

You stretch out your leg from behind your desk, and Jungkook's mouth goes dry at the expanse of skin before he realizes you're showing him a star tattoo on your thigh.

"You're pretty," he squeaks, and then wants to die as he realizes his mistake, face burning. "It's pretty," he corrects, and hitches in a breath.

You smile again, and at this point it has to be out of pity, and he's so grateful for Namjoon walking by he could kiss him.

"Jeon Jungkook-ssi?" You call softly, and when he turns around, you smile again. "Have a good day."

He nods frantically and follows Namjoon, who's shaking his head and laughing a bit.

And that was before the tinnitus made everything worse.

After his embarrassing display in the hallway, the ringing stays gone, at least until he goes in to record the next morning.

You're standing in the hall, talking to Hoseok, who has got that mischievous glint in his eyes, and you're laughing a bit, holding your hand over your mouth.

That's when the bells come back, ugly and loud and discordant, making Jungkook wince.

Hoseok was good at talking to girls. He was so good at talking to them he often talked them into things, and before he knows it, Jungkook is walking up next to you.

"What's so funny?" He asks, forcing a smile.

You look up at him and for a moment the bells recede.

But then Hoseok says, "You wouldn't get it, Kookie. You had to be there," as if he's referencing some secret moment between the two of you, and suddenly there's a clanging in his ears again.

He starts to walk away and he feels your small hand on his arm again and the bells stop.

He lets out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"Feeling okay?"

Jungkook just nods shortly and heads to the studio.

It goes like that, they stop sometimes when you look at him or happen to touch him, or either recede and go all soft and melodic. But then they start clanging again, ratcheting up in volume until his head is throbbing and he can't think when he sees Hoseok wink at you when you hand him his coffee.

One day, he hears Hoseok's low chuckle and your voice coming from the studio and the bells are so loud he can't stand it, goes to tell Namjoon he has to go home with frustrated tears standing in his eyes.

Namjoon hums, concerned, putting a hand to his forehead to check for a fever. "You okay, Kookie?"

The tears come then, and Namjoon sits him down, makes him tell him everything.

"And it's just so loud, hyung, it makes my head hurt and I can't focus and I don't know what to do."

Namjoon is quiet for a moment, as if thinking, and then he leans forward.

"Jungkook, how much do you know about soulmates?"

Jungkook blinks. "Ah, that sometimes they happen, like Yoongi-hyung seeing music notes and your compass tattoo-" Jungkook stops, mouth dropping open.

Namjoon smiles. "I think this is one of those things, Kook."

Jungkook can't breathe, suddenly, and Namjoon sits next to him, rubbing circles on his back, until he remembers how to draw in air.

"It's okay. You could just talk to her," Namjoon says, and he's only trying to comfort him but Jungkook can't help snorting out a laugh.

Talk to her, Namjoon said. Like that was the easiest thing in the world. Like he didn't forget how to speak when you looked at him.

But when the bells get louder and louder every time he sees you and Hoseok even exchange words, lasting into the night when he's gritting his teeth and trying to sleep, he decides he has to do something or the noise will drive him mad.

He walks up behind you, his skin feeling tight, and calls your name softly.

When you start to turn your chair, he takes hold of the back of it so you can't.

"Just a moment, please," he says, and it comes out sounding prim and stupid and he thinks about walking away but the bells won't fucking stop.

"Um, I think you might be my soulmate? Because there's these bells ringing in my head and they used to be kind of nice but now they're just so loud and I know you probably like Hoseok-hyung and this is all very inconvenient but..."

He trails off because the more the thinks about how awkward it will be, Jungkook begging you to touch his arm before he goes to record while you're dating Hoseok, the louder the bells get and his head hurts and his chest aches and then you stand up.

"Jungkook," you say as you turn around, and the bells stop, after days, they just stop, when your eyes meet his.

"Hoseok is my friend. I told him about how it was driving me crazy, seeing literal stars anytime you talked to me, and he hasn't stopped teasing me about you being my soulmate."

Jungkook wonders if it's possible for a heart to stop beating. "Really?" He asks stupidly, one hand still on your desk chair. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think you liked me much. You barely ever talk to me and leave immediately when I try to make conversation."

"I'm bad at it. Conversation, I mean." He takes in a slow breath.

You laugh, and it's more melodic than the bells ever were. "Is it better now? The ringing?"

Jungkook nods, feels his body swaying toward yours.

"I don't see the stars anymore, either." You murmur, and you're swaying toward him too and then he's kissing you and the bells go off once more, tinkling and melodic, as if in celebration.

It turns out his bells are useful, since Jungkook kind of never gets any better at expressing himself to you. When he was feeling upset or insecure about your relationship, the bells got too loud and he'd point to his ear and you'd go right into his arms and they'd stop, just like that.

You did the same, pointing to your eye, and he'd grab you and throw you over his shoulder or kiss the tip of your nose and you'd laugh and everything would be all right again.

Everything calms down, in a few years, and then the bells stop entirely until the next bells he hears are at your wedding and he'd never been happier to hear them.