#I have painted all this background just so I can blur it and its not visible in the first version ♥

[arkarti]

Happy New years! ✨

Version with all charas and bonus SeriRei

Twitter: x

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

The Telling Truth: When 'Show, Don't Tell' Doesn't Apply (You Don't Always Have To Show, Don't Tell.)

Hey there, fellow writers and beloved members of the writeblr community! 📝✨

Today, I want to talk about something that's been on my mind lately, and I have a feeling it might resonate with many of you too. It's about that age-old writing advice we've all heard a million times: "Show, don't tell." Now, don't get me wrong – it's great advice, and it has its place in our writing toolbox. But here's the thing: it's not the be-all and end-all of good writing. In fact, I'd argue that sometimes, it's perfectly okay – even necessary – to tell rather than show.

First things first, let's address the elephant in the room. The "show, don't tell" rule has been drilled into our heads since we first picked up a pen (or opened a Word document) with the intention of writing creatively. It's been repeated in writing workshops, creative writing classes, and countless craft books. And for good reason! Showing can create vivid, immersive experiences for readers, allowing them to feel like they're right there in the story.

But here's where things get a bit tricky: like any rule in writing (or in life, for that matter), it's not absolute. There are times when telling is not just acceptable, but actually preferable. And that's what you all will explore today in this hopefully understandable blog post.

Let's start by breaking down why "show, don't tell" is so popular. When we show instead of tell, we're engaging the reader's senses and emotions. We're painting a picture with words, allowing the reader to draw their own conclusions based on the details we provide. It's a powerful technique that can make our writing more engaging and memorable.

For example, instead of saying "Sarah was angry," we might write, "Sarah's fists clenched at her sides, her jaw tight as she glared at the broken vase." This gives the reader a clearer image and allows them to infer Sarah's emotional state.

But here's the thing: sometimes, we don't need or want that level of detail. Sometimes, efficiency in storytelling is more important than painting an elaborate picture. And that's where telling comes in handy.

Imagine if every single emotion, action, or piece of information in your story was shown rather than told. Your novel would probably be thousands of pages long, and your readers might get lost in the sea of details, losing sight of the main plot or character arcs.

So, when might telling be more appropriate? Let's explore some scenarios:

Summarizing less important events: If you're writing a story that spans a long period, you don't need to show every single day or event. Telling can help you summarize periods of time or less crucial events quickly, allowing you to focus on the more important parts of your story.

For instance: "The next few weeks passed in a blur of exams and late-night study sessions." This sentence tells us what happened without going into unnecessary detail about each day.

Providing necessary background information: Sometimes, you need to give your readers some context or backstory. While you can certainly weave this information into scenes, there are times when a straightforward telling of facts is more efficient.

Example: "The war had been raging for three years before Sarah's village was attacked." This quickly gives us important context without needing to show the entire history of the war.

Establishing pace and rhythm: Alternating between showing and telling can help you control the pace of your story. Showing tends to slow things down, allowing readers to immerse themselves in a moment. Telling can speed things up, moving the story along more quickly when needed.

Clarifying complex ideas or emotions: Some concepts or feelings are abstract or complex enough that showing alone might not suffice. In these cases, a bit of telling can help ensure your readers understand what's happening.

For example: "The quantum entanglement theory had always fascinated John, but explaining it to others often left him feeling frustrated and misunderstood." Here, we're telling the reader about John's relationship with this complex scientific concept, which might be difficult to show effectively.

Maintaining your narrative voice: Sometimes, telling is simply more in line with your narrative voice or the tone of your story. This is especially true if you're writing in a more direct or conversational style.

Now, I can almost hear some of you saying, "But wait! I've always been told that showing is always better!" And I completely get it. I'm a writer myself and prioritize "Show, Don't tell." in my writing all the time. We've been conditioned to believe that showing is superior in all cases. But we can take a moment to challenge that notion.

Think about some of your favorite books. Chances are, they use a mix of showing and telling. Even the most critically acclaimed authors don't adhere strictly to "show, don't tell" all the time. They understand that good writing is about balance and knowing when to use each technique effectively.

Take, for instance, the opening line of George Orwell's "1984": "It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen." This is a perfect blend of showing and telling. Orwell shows us it's a bright, cold day (we can imagine the crisp air and clear sky), but he tells us about the clocks striking thirteen. This immediate telling gives us crucial information about the world we're entering – it's not quite like our own.

Or consider this passage from Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice": "Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character." Here, Austen is clearly telling us about Mr. Bennet's character rather than showing it through his actions. And yet, it works beautifully, giving us a quick, clear insight into both Mr. Bennet and his wife.

The key is to use both techniques strategically. So, how can you decide when to show and when to tell? Here are some tips:

Consider the importance of the information: Is this a crucial moment in your story, a pivotal emotion, or a key piece of character development? If so, it might be worth showing. If it's more of a transitional moment or background information, telling might be more appropriate.

Think about pacing: If you want to slow down and really immerse your reader in a moment, show it. If you need to move things along more quickly, tell it.

Evaluate the complexity: If you're dealing with a complex emotion or concept, consider whether showing alone will be enough to convey it clearly. Sometimes, a combination of showing and telling works best for complex ideas.

Consider your word count: If you're working with strict word count limitations (like in short stories or flash fiction), telling can help you convey necessary information more concisely.

Trust your instincts (Important): As you write more, you'll develop a feel for when showing or telling works better. Trust your gut, and don't be afraid to experiment.

Now, let's talk about how to tell effectively when you do choose to use it. Because here's the thing: telling doesn't have to be boring or flat. It can be just as engaging and stylish as showing when done well. Here are some tips for effective telling:

Use strong, specific language: Instead of using vague or generic words, opt for more specific, evocative language. For example, instead of "She was sad," you might write, "A profound melancholy settled over her."

Incorporate sensory details: Even when telling, you can include sensory information to make it more vivid. "The room was cold" becomes more engaging as "A bone-chilling cold permeated the room."

Use metaphors and similes: These can help make your telling more colorful and memorable. "His anger was like a volcano ready to erupt" paints a vivid picture without showing the anger in action.

Keep it concise: One of the advantages of telling is its efficiency. Don't negate that by being overly wordy. Get to the point, but do it with style.

Vary your sentence structure: Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, more flowing ones to create rhythm and maintain interest.

Remember, the goal is to create a seamless narrative that engages your reader. Sometimes that means showing, sometimes it means telling, and often it means a artful blend of both.

It's also worth noting that different genres and styles of writing may lean more heavily on one technique or the other. Literary fiction often employs more showing, delving deep into characters' psyches and painting elaborate scenes. Genre fiction, on the other hand, might use more telling to keep the plot moving at a brisker pace. Neither approach is inherently better – it all depends on what works best for your story and your style.

Now, I want to address something that I think many of us struggle with: the guilt or anxiety we might feel when we catch ourselves telling instead of showing. It's easy to fall into the trap of second-guessing every sentence, wondering if we should be showing more. But here's the truth: that kind of constant self-doubt can be paralyzing and ultimately detrimental to your writing process.

So, I want you to understand and think: It's okay to tell sometimes. You're not a bad writer for using telling in your work. In fact, knowing when and how to use telling effectively is a sign of a skilled writer.

Here's some practical ways to incorporate this mindset into your writing process:

First Draft Freedom: When you're writing your first draft, give yourself permission to write however it comes out. If that means more telling than showing, that's absolutely fine. The important thing is to get the story down. You can always revise and add more "showing" elements later if needed.

Revision with Purpose: When you're revising, don't automatically change every instance of telling to showing. Instead, ask yourself: Does this serve the story better as telling or showing? Consider the pacing, the importance of the information, and how it fits into the overall narrative.

Beta Readers and Feedback: When you're getting feedback on your work, pay attention to how readers respond to different sections. If they're engaged and understanding the story, then your balance of showing and telling is probably working well, regardless of which technique you're using more.

Study Your Favorite Authors: Take some time to analyze how your favorite writers use showing and telling. You might be surprised to find more instances of effective telling than you expected.

Practice Both Techniques (Important): Set aside some time to practice both showing and telling. Write the same scene twice, once focusing on showing and once on telling. This can help you develop a feel for when each technique is most effective.

Now, let's address another important point: the evolution of writing styles and reader preferences. The "show, don't tell" rule gained popularity in the early 20th century with the rise of modernist literature. But writing styles and reader tastes have continued to evolve since then.

In our current fast-paced world, where people are often reading on devices and in shorter bursts, there's sometimes a preference for more direct, efficient storytelling. This doesn't mean that showing is out of style, but it does mean that there's often room for more telling than strict adherence to "show, don't tell" would allow.

Moreover, diverse voices in literature are challenging traditional Western writing norms, including the emphasis on showing over telling. Some cultures have strong storytelling traditions that lean more heavily on telling, and as the literary world becomes more inclusive, we're seeing a beautiful variety of styles that blend showing and telling in new and exciting ways.

This brings me to an important point: your voice matters. Your unique way of telling stories is valuable. Don't let rigid adherence to any writing rule, including "show, don't tell," stifle your natural voice or the story you want to tell.

Remember, rules in writing are more like guidelines. They're tools to help us improve our craft, not unbreakable laws. The most important rule is to engage your reader and tell your story effectively. If that means more telling than the conventional wisdom suggests, then so be it.

As I wrap up this discussion, I want to leave you with a challenge: In your next writing session, consciously use both showing and telling. Pay attention to how each technique feels, how it serves your story, and how it affects the rhythm of your writing. You might discover new ways to blend these techniques that work perfectly for your unique style.

Writing is an art, not a science. There's no perfect formula, no one-size-fits-all approach. It's about finding what works for you, your story, and your readers. So embrace both showing and telling. Use them as the powerful tools they are, and don't be afraid to break the "rules" when your instincts tell you to.

Remember, every great writer started where you are now, learning the rules and then figuring out when and how to break them effectively. You're part of a long, proud tradition of storytellers, each finding their own path through the winding forest of words.

Keep writing, keep growing, and keep believing in yourself. You've got this!

Happy writing! 💖✍️ - Rin T.

Before you go, why not join us at The Write Right Society? We're a supportive Tumblr community where writers lift each other up. Whether you're a newbie or a pro, we'd love to have you! Share your work, get feedback, and connect with fellow wordsmiths, writers and aspiring authors. 

[zntauri]

Love your art! What's your shading process / any tips? I really like how vibrant it is

Thank you!! also sorry this is a long post

I usually start painting the character after I already have a background, super sketchy or with a placeholder (a photo usually), just so i know what colors to use

I fill the character with a color from the BG or a similar color and use the multiply blending mode

then i paint the lights on another layer with the "add glow" blending mode (i also pick the color depending on the bg).

I add another multiply layer for anything that needs to be darker, like stuff under the characters clothes

I paint a line with a saturated color between the lights and shadows, for example i added a bright red for the cape and light purple for their skin (? this is subsurface scattering, it doesnt happen on every surface but i like how it looks so i use it on everything lol.

Then i paint the lineart a similar color to each part of the character or you can paint it all red and use multiply

that's basically it

some tips (these are just things that work for me)

I think is better to paint the lights, not the shadows. it helps to see the shapes of the thing/character you're drawing better (its what i did with lambert ⬆️)

Draw backgrounds, i think it makes every drawing look more interesting and its easier to decide the lighting for the character, if you dont want to draw anything detailed you can paint something simple and blur it

i really recommend to start with a thumbnail, experiment with colors, perspective, composition, etc. before actually starting the drawing thumbnails of this post

this tip is something that everyone has heard before but use references, real life references like photographs for perspective and lighting, 3d models for anatomy and perspective, paintings to see how other artists stylize objects, bgs or characters. use references for everything

this tip is super important for me: check the values of your drawing, (lower the saturation, with the lineart hidden) if it isnt readable/ doesnt look good in black and white it most likely wont look good with colors (this depends on artstyle and personal preference tho)

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Sympathy for the Devil ♡

♡ Pairings: mobster!boyfriend!jimin x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: mafia au/angst/smut

♡ Summary: After an arguement with your boyfriend, you set out to get back at him by bringing a date to the restaurant he frequents on a night you know he'll be there. It's a dangerous game, toying with another human life to get your way, but you do love danger, don't you? You wouldn't be looking to make a killer jealous if you didn't.

♡ Word Count: 3.2k

♡ Warnings: appearance of other members (non romantic), dom Jimin w/ switch vibes sprinkled in, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, rough sex, clit teasing, marking (hickeys), pet names (baby), you're feral for each other, fingering (f receiving), spanking, you give him a lil slap, choking, bathroom sex, possessiveness, jealousy, you're both kinda psychotic, implied murder, & that's it for the list of wholesome things in this fic.

♡ A/N: I'm such a sucker for mafia movies so I have the biggest soft spot for mafia fics. I want to thank @anyamaris for reading this first and encouraging me along the way when I was struggling with writer's block. Idk what I'd do without my #1 cheerleader for my dom Jimin agenda ❤️

Some of the prettiest animals in nature are simultaneously the deadliest. Park Jimin is no exception...

It’s impossible not to be enchanted by him. His face is a heavenly mixture of handsomeness and beauty. The cadence of his voice is like a song you can’t quite get out of your head and just when you think you have it’s back again. It’s all enough to make a girl blind to the blood on his hands.

Falling in love with him made the rest of the world all fuzzy. It blurred out everything. Not just the money laundering or the drug trafficking. To love him, to be loved by him, makes everything else feel like background noise. You've never touched a hard drug in your life but, the way he makes you feel, he must qualify as one. 

That’s why you’re here doing the dumbest shit you’ve ever done in your life.

Arguments are inevitable in relationships. But arguments when you’re dating a mob guy? They’re different beasts entirely and it’s a bitch to tame them. Your last argument with Jimin led to you packing a bag and running off to your best friend’s place. In the beginning you never had to question if you came before everything else. You were special to him—at least you thought you were—and he’d stop anything to be with you.

But lately that hasn’t been the case. He’s been replacing his presence in your life with gifts, thinking he can make up for missed dates and lonely nights with designer bags. Maybe the other girlfriends are content with cuddling up to some ugly mink coat in place of their man but you aren’t one of them. 

He just can’t seem to get that through his thick skull so you’ve set out to make him. If the death stare he’s giving you across this bustling restaurant is any indication of how your plan’s going, it’s working like a charm. You spent hours styling your hair just the way he likes it. Elegant and sleek, marrying beautifully with the softness of your face.

Your manicured nails are painted a translucent blue that deepens the slightest bit when the light hits it a certain way. The dress you’re wearing accentuates your curves in all the places he loves which, let’s be honest, is everywhere. And your heels, the heels, somehow makes your ass look more perfect than it already is. All of this and you’re sitting at a table having dinner with another man. 

You spot Namjoon throwing an arm around Jimin’s shoulder, no doubt leaning in to give him one of his infamous pep talks. "Don’t worry about her” he’s surely saying, “It’s not worth it, man. See, sometimes love is just…” Joon goes on, doing his best to keep his younger brother from doing something stupid but Jimin’s hardly listening. How can he when his blood’s boiling hot enough to eat its way through his flesh?

Every Sunday night the brothers and their girlfriends come here for dinner. The owners, a sweet elderly couple, love them as if they were their own and give them the biggest table no matter how packed it is. This is the one night they get to pretend they’re a normal family. It’s tradition and you don’t fuck with tradition. Everyone knows that. You know that. 

“The thing a lot of women don’t understand is that men by nature aren’t monogamous” your date rambles between messy bites of dinner. The man’s not ugly by any means but god is he a pig, in more ways than one. Not that you’re complaining. It’s why you had your best friend set you up with him. Whoever you bought here was no doubt being led to slaughter. Who better than a pig?

A chill runs through you at the ruthlessness of your own thoughts, wiping the smile from your face. Looking up, Jimin captures you in his gaze, the death glare replaced with a look of childlike amusement. It’s as if the smile had fled from your face to find its new home on his, taunting you from afar. What’s he smiling for? You’re not foolish enough to think it’s for anything good. 

“I was thinking, it’s kinda loud in here. Wanna go to my place?” your date asks, his poor attempt at getting laid tonight falling on deaf ears.

Jimin stands up, slipping out of his suit jacket as he does so. Rolling up the sleeves of his pressed dress shirt, he leans to whisper something in Yoongi’s ear. Yoongi pours him a shot and he knocks it back like it’s nothing. The rest of the table watches on, concerned but doing their best to carry on dinner as usual. Their collective heart rate increases but none more than yours.

Maybe you hadn’t really thought this one out. Noticing the color drain from your face, your date reaches out to touch your hand. “Don’t!” you snap, jumping up from your seat. “I’m sorry. I just need a second.”  Jimin’s halfway across the dining room when you flee toward the bathroom, nearly knocking into some poor innocent waiter in the process. 

Navigating your way through the halls, you scramble to find a way out. You’ll tell the guy you’re sick. That’s it. Say you’re not feeling too well, must be the food or something, and send him on his way. Pretend this never happened.

“Beautiful dress, darling” an older woman smiles as she leaves the bathroom. You dash in before the door closes behind her, peeking your head back out to avoid being rude. “Thank you!” you shout after her, quickly shutting the door and hurrying to the sink to splash some water on your face.

“Snap out of it” you whisper, flicking specks of icy water at the makeup you worked tirelessly to apply. “Maybe…maybe he won’t do anything, right? We’re in public. He wouldn’t—” You force a weak, pained smile at the girl staring back at you in the mirror. “Who are you kidding?” you groan, burying your face in your hands, “He’s gonna kill him.”

“But you knew that already, didn’t you?” sighs a voice that is distinctively not yours. Your hands drop from your face and there Jimin is, standing in the doorway with that same smile on. The one he’d so brutally ripped from your face. And here you are, shivering like a child too afraid of the monster under the bed to make a run for it. 

In all your panic you could’ve sworn you locked the door when, in fact, you’d done no such thing. If he’d knocked you would’ve had to open it anyway—you’ve never been great at saying no to him—but at least you would’ve given yourself a fighting chance. Nothing to stress your pretty little head about. Jimin steps in, easing the door closed, and you hear a sharp click. It’s locked now.

The heels of his black Louboutin shoes tap against the polished tile as he approaches the sink. Your heart jumps with each tap, the sound growing unbearably louder the closer he gets. Jimin brings his arms around your waist, holding you as only lovers do, “You want me to hurt him, don’t you? Want me to break every bone in his body to show you how much I love you?” His full lips brush against your neck, soft tongue running along the surface of your skin like the head of a match ready to light up with dazzling flames.

Your eyes are glued to the mirror, watching helplessly as his hands skate up and down your body, fingertips ghosting your most sensitive areas. His touch is a truth serum, forcing you to betray yourself and lay your motives bare. “You protect the things you love, Jimin. I only wanted to know if I was still one of them. Even if that meant…” you shudder at the thought. “We get what we want by any means. That’s what you taught me, isn’t it?” 

Jimin grins, locking eyes with your reflection as he inches your dress up to reveal your pillowy thighs. “Aah but you already have me. I let you throw your little tantrum but I’ll never let you go. You know that.” His fingers dip between the warmth of your thighs, teasing your clit through your panties.

“So why?” he whispers, his other hand coming up to lovingly stroke your neck, “Why would you try to embarrass me?”

You part your lips to speak but your words are forced back down by the sudden pressure applied to your windpipe by his hand. All that escapes are broken words and hushed gasps for air. The light abandons his eyes, that boyish charm he so effortlessly wields burning to ash as you squirm in his grip. You kick your legs to get free but it only serves to give him the room he needs to tear your panties to the side, the pads of his fingertips dripping with your arousal as they glide through your folds.

He loosens his grip on your neck and you manage to rasp out “Mmm…sorry…didn’t mean” before you’re plunged back into silence. Curling his fingers against your entrance, he sinks one into your core. A single digit pumping into needy walls that are already clenching in anticipation of the next one. Snatching your head back, he kisses you like he hates you. Hates you so much that he loves you. Loves you so much that he hates you. A cycle, endless and all consuming, that neither of you can break from.

“Prove it to me” he demands between your lips, plunging another finger into you, “Bend over and show me how sorry you are.” Your back arches, bringing your soft ass flush against his bulge. You press back into him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass each time his fingers slam into your core. Jimin sneaks a glimpse at the mirror to watch the way your body jiggles from the motion. Thighs trembling, tits rocking in sync with the harsh movements of his wrist.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.” Jimin slips his hand away from your neck, drenched fingers abandoning your pussy to apply sharp, wet slaps to your ass.

Spinning around to face him, you land an equally sharp slap across his face, “Choke me like that again and I’ll rip your head off.”

If the burning of your palm is any indication, you know you hit him hard but he’s unphased. He's actually smiling, licking his lips at you like you’re the most delicious thing in this restaurant. He sweeps you off of your feet, setting you down on the sink, “So. Fucking. Pretty.”

The marble’s even colder against your bottom than it was your hands but you don’t give a shit. Jimin’s tongue’s down your throat as he pushes your dress up, ripping away what was left of your panties. That’s the only thing you give a shit about. 

“Jimin!” you giggle, tugging at the zipper on his pants, “You’re gonna make me fall.”

Hooking his arms behind your knees, he spreads your legs, pushing them to your chest. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let you fall.”

“Promise?” you pout, fingertips tracing the veins along his length.

They pulse and twitch as he raises his hips, dragging the underside of his cock between your folds. “I promise. I won’t—aah, shit, baby” he moans, his cock glazed in your arousal without having even been inside of you yet. “I didn’t know you missed me that much.” 

You grab onto his shirt, the cotton knotted in your fists as you bask in the feeling of the head brushing your clit. “I did. Missed you so much” you mewl, guiding him to your entrance. Jimin peppers your cheeks with kisses, pushing into you. Filling you. Claiming you.  “I, mmphh, missed, fuck, missed you too” he confesses, each word emphasized by thrusts that have you wanting to climb every wall in this bathroom.

When it comes to women Jimin’s told more lies than he can remember but never with you. He misses you and he means it, misses you so much that it hurts. Not just because you take his cock so well, somehow managing to look majestic when you’re being fucked up against this mirror. But because he feels incomplete without you.

Before you all he knew was violence and greed, constantly chasing power that would never be enough. Always needing more. He often wondered how much money it would take, how many buried enemies, to fill the emptiness that’s haunted him for as long as he can remember. And then you came along—the girl whose eyes twinkle as she stares up at him, your entire body calling out his name—and he had his answer.

All he needed to cure that emptiness, rid him of the nagging feeling that something’s missing, was you. But men like him have an image to maintain. In this world people come to know you for things, fear you for them, and you can’t let them think you’re soft. Not for a second. Not if you want to get what you want. “We get what we want by any means”. That is what he told you but nothing’s worth having if it’s by way of losing you. 

Dragging you to the edge of the sink, heart thumping out of his chest from how tightly you’re clenching, he whispers into your open mouth, “Come home. I’m in hell without you. Everything’s so…so empty. Just say you’ll come back to me. Say it.”

“I-I’ll come back home. Fuck, I’ll go the moon if you want me to” you pant, watery eyes sending mascara streaming down your cheeks. You tug harder at his shirt, sending a button or two clinking into the mirror. He’s in you so deep, hitting every spot like only he knows how, that you’re ready to explode. Implode? One or the other. Maybe both.

Jimin laughs, his tongue grazing yours, “You wanna go to the moon, baby? Hold onto me. I’ll take you.”

Knowing better than to doubt him, you throw your arms over his shoulders and hold on like your life depends on it. The sink creaks beneath you as he fucks harder into a pussy that just won’t stop leaking for him. You lose control of your body. All of it belongs to him, as it should. You make no attempts at denying yourself the ultimate satisfaction when it hits. Your lips crash together as you climax, your moans, bordering on screams, pouring onto his tongue.

He eagerly devours them, returning some of his own as your walls spasm wildly, milking the cum from his swollen tip. Your cunt wants every drop of it and he’s determined to give it to you. Fill you up until it’s dripping out of you, making your thighs warm and sticky with his seed. Your body gives out and he tucks an arm behind you, sticking to his promise not to let you fall.

Staring up at the ceiling, you’re sure you see space, stars twinkling before your eyes as you float there, completely weightless. Jimin’s lips meet your heaving chest, suckling at your silky skin to leave hickeys along your collarbone.

“Mine. All mine” he repeats, “Love you so much.” 

You run your fingers through his hair as he marks you, letting yourself get lost in the moment. “I love you too.” 

“Excuse me, sir. You’re holding up the bathroom” a comically high pitched voice says, tapping at the bathroom door. Jimin drags himself upright, knowing the voice too well. “You okay?” he asks, shuffling to make you both look presentable. He tries to fix your dress but there’s no use, he’s stretched it out more than he has you.

“Baby, it’s fine” you giggle, shooing him away, “I got it.” 

Jimin unlocks the door, snatching it open to reveal precisely who you both expected. “Thank god!” Jungkook cheers, rushing into the bathroom and over to the toilet. “Whose idea was it to have one bathroom here, man? I’ve had to piss for like—” Reading the look on Jimin’s face, he follows his gaze over to the sink where you sit buzzed off of the afterglow with your tattered panties at your feet.

Jungkook grins, looking you both up and down, “Safe to say you two are having a good night, huh?”

Jimin hits Jungkook in the back of the head, walking over to help you down from the sink. He holds you close to him, kissing you as he steers you towards the door. “Is it done?” Jimin asks over his shoulder but you don’t hear Jungkook’s response. It’s drowned out by the symphony of sounds that assault you as you venture back out into the restaurant, Jimin’s arms still holding you tight. Scanning the restaurant you spot the table you were at with your date but now there’s another couple there. 

“Long time no see!” Jin says, jumping up to hug you. His girlfriend follows behind, hugging you like she hasn’t seen you in years. “Come sit with me” she insists, noticing your disheveled appearance, “I’ll fix you right up. I have everything in my purse.” You settle into the chair beside her and she goes straight to work cleaning the mascara from your face.

Jimin sits beside you, an arm draped over the back of your chair, and watches attentively as you get your makeup done. “Nice to have you back” Taehyung smiles, pulling something from under the table and passing it to you. Jimin sets them down before you—your jacket and your purse. You’d forgotten them at the table when you fled to the bathroom.

“Uh, thanks, I—” you stutter, cut off by Hoseok’s sudden reappearance at the end of the table. You’d seen him earlier but hadn’t noticed his seat was empty when you returned. He tries to play it off, hide it behind a smile, but he’s out of breath, utterly exhausted from something. The men glance around the table at each other. It’s a silent conversation you know you shouldn’t be in on. 

“Jimin” you whisper, when you’re sure you aren’t interrupting, “Where’s…” 

Jimin casually pours you both a drink, presenting you with a glass of wine. “Where’s who?” 

“The guy that I was…”

“The guy that you were what, baby?” he asks, brow crinkling as he feigns ignorance. “You’ve been here with me all night, haven’t you?” He turns to the rest of the table who all seem to share his collective memory loss. “Hasn’t she?” 

“Absolutely.”

“Yeah.”

“Been here all night.”

“See? Now enjoy your drink and finish getting your makeup done” he coos, kissing you on the cheek.

Just like that, everyone resumes their conversations like it’s any other Sunday night dinner. You take a sip of your wine, the post-orgasm haze finally lifts from your brain, and all of the pieces come together in your mind. You shake the truth away, opting instead for the constructed reality necessary to pretend you just didn’t get a man killed.

What date? What guy? You’ve been here all night with Jimin. The man you came here with. The man you’ll leave here with. The man you love too much to ever run away from again. Unless, of course, you want to raise the homicide rate.

[baekhyunsbestie]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🎃 do you like scary movies? 🔪 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

a lil disclaimer before you dive in: this goes pretty dark. we���re talking obsession, stalking, breaking and entering, some seriously pervy vibes, and even murder. i just want to say that i absolutely do not condone any of this behavior in real life— this is all purely fictional and should stay that way, okay? if this typa story isn't your vibe, no worries!!!!! protect your peace and scroll on. take care of yourselves😚💞‼️

 ੈ✩‧₊ content: 18+/MDNI. 5.3k+ words. smut, language, baekhyun x f!reader--baekhyun is a psychologist and reader is a bakery owner, no ages specified, but i was thinking mid-late twenties!! they're also next-door neighbors 🙂‍↕️ hehe

baekhyun sits on the edge of his desk in his dimly lit home office, the dissertation on his computer screen long forgotten. his eyes drift to the sheer curtains, gently moving with the breeze from his open window. hours pass quietly, and his patience grows thin, stretched to its limit. hidden behind the ghostface mask, his deep brown eyes stay locked on you, his alluring neighbor next door.

outside, the world blurs into the background as he tunes out the laughter of the children in your care, his gaze completely captured by your captivating presence. earlier, he had seen the parents wave goodbye, their silly costumes hinting at a halloween party awaiting them. it was no surprise they chose you to babysit tonight; you were the life of the party, casting a spell on the kids in a way that even sabrina spellman would envy.

every movement of yours is etched into the chaotic corners of his mind. you embody perfection as you effortlessly play dress-up with the kids, sharing sweet treats and settling in for another tim burton film. that beautiful smile adorns your lips—a smile that, while it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, is enough. enough to delight the children, enough to maintain appearances. but baekhyun sees beyond the surface; he can read the subtle nuances that betray your true feelings. he knows that if these were your children—his and yours—you would shine with a warmth and devotion that’s unmistakable. the mere thought triggers a fire within him, sending a rush of desire coursing through his veins, and a low groan escapes his lips. but how could he ever convince you to have his kids when you don’t see him that way?

he knows he needs a plan—a way to draw you in and make you see the real him. in his mind, he's a catch, someone truly special. he tells himself he's a good guy, a smart one, too, with a promising career as a psychologist and a hefty retirement plan waiting for him. he believes he’s perfect for you, convinced that he could take care of you in ways no one else could. little does he realize, he’s always watching from the shadows, convinced that his intentions are pure, even as his obsession grows deeper.

and after all, he knows so much about you. he’s aware that you’ve recently moved here from a few towns over, stepping into a new life as a single woman with no kids. he would never forget seeing you for the first time. it was a sunny spring day, the weather was perfect, the moving truck parked in the drive way out front, while watching your family and friends help unload and organize the furniture in your new house. 

you’ve opened a small, cozy bakery, every pastry crafted with love and care. the warm, inviting space reflects your personality—painted in shades of your favorite color. scattered horror movie posters, especially scream, show your love for slasher films.

from his office window, he watches. he can see straight into your living room, where your tv bathes the room in a soft light. you’re always lounging on the couch in those tiny shorts that make his mind race. weekends are your time, dedicated to marathons of horror films, with scream playing over and over, clearly your favorite.

you’re all alone in that big house, and he can’t shake the feeling that you need him. he’d be the missing puzzle piece—fitting you perfectly. he imagines himself slipping into your life, the one who helps you at the bakery and shares your love for horror. he envisions nights where your screams of pleasure would align perfectly with the shrieks on the screen as he brings you to your climax, down on his knees before you, his head between your legs. 

baekhyun fondly recalls the day, just after your move-in, when the mailman mistakenly dropped your letters into his mailbox. a wicked grin spread on his face at the memory; finally, he could introduce himself. after thirty minutes of rehearsing his lines in front of the mirror, he stands at your door, donning his friendliest smile, excitement bubbling just beneath the surface. 

when the door swings open, he’s struck breathless by your presence—so devastatingly beautiful, you. he notices the broom in your hand, hinting that you’ve been tidying up. you wore denim overalls over a simple tank top. your hair is swept up in a claw clip, with a few loose strands gently framing your face. sweat glistens on your forehead, clinging to the sides of your cheeks, accentuating your expression of confusion.

“oh. um, hi? can i help you?” you ask politely, a hint of an awkward smile gracing your lips.

baekhyun snaps out of his daze, realizing he’s been standing there in silence. he clears his throat, shaking off the momentary haze before speaking, “hi, i’m your next-door neighbor, baekhyun. welcome to the neighborhood. um, i believe this is yours; it was in my mailbox.” he offers you the mail, his nervousness evident in his slightly trembling hands.

you invite him inside for a glass of lemonade, gratitude dancing in your eyes as you thank him for the mix-up. with a playful tone, you mention how you’re still getting used to the kindness of people in smaller towns. as you lead him to the kitchen, you apologize for the clutter of boxes and bubble wrap scattered around. he takes a seat at the table, casually glancing around while you fetch the drinks. his eyes wander to the living room bookshelf, where a few self-help books catch his attention. baekhyun, not missing a beat, shares that he’s a psychologist, mainly focusing on writing dissertations to bring fresh perspectives to cognitive psychology. you find his work captivating—so much so that you tell him, with genuine admiration, that people like him make the world a better place.

oh, if only you knew.

as you talk, you weave together the threads of your life—how you left everything behind after a painful breakup with the man you once believed would be you’d grow old and gray with. the memory stings, recalling how he would betray your trust with your best friend while you were away on business trips. you share how that heartbreak changed everything, ultimately guiding you to this charming old house that now feels like home. 

you explain how you quit your old job, a role that never truly fulfilled you. then, your eyes light up as you reveal your childhood dream of opening a bakery—a dream you’re finally chasing. you’ve even signed the lease for a cute little space right in the heart of downtown, a step closer to making that dream a reality. 

unbeknownst to you, as you sit beneath the soft glow of your kitchen light, baekhyun feels an overwhelming wave of desire wash over him. he’s rock hard beneath the kitchen table, ever since you opened the door and welcoming him in. he’s utterly entranced by the way your hands unconsciously glide over your bare thigh as you speak, igniting a fire within him. the light in your eyes sparkles with passion, your voice a melodic cadence as you share your visions for your bakery—the delicate pastries and savory sandwiches that will soon fill your charming shop. it’s all too much for him; you seem perfect—too perfect for this world.

then, as you lick the last drop of lemonade from the rim of your glass, the sinful thought of those same lips and tongue and how they’d feel on his aching dick pushes him to reach his climax. a shudder runs through him, and he bites back a groan, hiding it behind an exaggerated yawn. he blames it on the sleepless nights spent in research. thankful for the baggy black sweats he wears, he quickly excuses himself, a rush of embarrassment flooding his cheeks as he retreats, relieved that the fabric conceals the mess he’s made underneath.

after that, the interactions blend into casual small talk and fleeting waves of hellos and goodbyes, leaving him longing for more of those stolen moments with you.

he remembers spending hours diving into your social media after your first meeting, each scroll revealing new pieces of your story. in just a few hours, he learned so much about you. he knows your favorite foods, cocktails, and music, and he can name all the concerts and festivals you’ve attended, along with the places, dates, and people you went with. he’s familiar with all the vacations you’ve taken and the hobbies that make you smile. every like and dislike, every old post of you and your ex-boyfriend, painted a picture of who you are—one that captivated him completely.

thoughts of that past lover linger like shadows in his mind, the one you left behind in search of solace. the idea that someone could wound you so deeply, sending you fleeing to a new town, sets off a fierce rage within him. he clenches his fist around the knife resting against his thigh, its cold steel spinning slowly between his fingers, a dark reminder of the lengths he might go to. 

he could kill him. both of them—your douchebag ex and slut of a best friend. the thought excited him, a twisted thrill coursing through his veins. he imagined taking his time, savoring every moment as their lives faded away. a laugh might escape him as he’d watch the light leave their eyes, knowing he was doing it all for you—the love of his life. just the thought of your smile and the melody of your laughter quickened his heartbeat. he would go to any lengths to ensure your happiness, willing to pay any price to keep you safe. all you’d have to do is say the word.

just then, snapping out of his thoughts, the parents return, their footsteps echoing on the driveway before a knock sounds at the door. the children, who’ve been squealing with laughter all night, race to the entryway, eager to greet their parents, still decked out in their poorly chosen costumes. and finally—finally—they shuffle out one by one, leaving the house to fall into a peaceful, almost eerie silence, with only you left to occupy the night. 

this is it. the moment has arrived, the one he’s been anticipating all night.

baekhyun fished a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, the hastily scrawled digits smudged and jumbled—a chaotic reflection of his flustered thoughts. these were the personal details he had picked up while lounging on his porch, book in hand and coffee in the other, absorbed in the quiet of the morning. he could still hear the rhythm of your breath from your daily jog as you approached your house, your voice lilting with familiarity as you chatted on your phone, casually reciting your number to the person on the other end. with a decisive flick of his wrist, he pulled out his phone, his fingers dancing across the screen with a fluidity born from habit, dialing your number with a sense of anticipation thrumming in his chest.

his gaze remained locked on the window, watching intently as you casually tossed a bag of popcorn into the microwave, the scent of buttery goodness soon filling the air. you moved effortlessly, rifling through netflix’s horror category, your face illuminated by the screen's eerie glow. the flickering light danced across your features, highlighting your concentration as you searched for the perfect scare to accompany your night.

his anticipation tightens the air, but you don’t even glance at your phone when it buzzes. the silence on your end feels louder than it should, and baekhyun’s jaw clenches. a low, guttural frustration threatens to escape his throat, his grip on the knife at his side growing dangerously tense. he draws in a deep breath, the cool metal pressing against his palm. stay calm, he tells himself. his pulse thrums in his ears as he gives you one more chance.

the microwave chimes, a cheerful reminder that your popcorn is ready. you open the door, the warm, buttery aroma spilling out like a cozy embrace, wrapping around you as you pour the fluffy kernels into a bowl. your gaze shifts to the phone screen—an unknown number flashes, irritation simmering just beneath the surface. "oh, fuck me," you mutter under your breath, barely loud enough to be heard. one of the kids must have left a toy behind again, refusing to sleep without it. you sigh at the thought, exasperation bubbling up as you reach for the phone, its persistent ringing cutting through the quiet.

"hello?" you answer, forcing a brighter tone, only to be met with silence—except for the faint, unsettling sound of heavy breathing on the other end. you have no idea that the caller is watching you through his window, eyes locked on your every move, his breath ragged as his hand strokes himself, utterly fixated on the sight of you.

you don’t let them get a word in. “go bother someone else, you freak,” you snap, cutting them off as you toss your phone onto the kitchen island with a frustrated clatter. leaning over the counter, you absentmindedly crunch popcorn between your teeth, your thoughts drifting. after hours of looking after a group of loud, sugar-fueled brats—who were mostly well-behaved—the last thing you need is some creep making prank calls.

when the phone rings again, a surge of frustration rises. you snatch it up, already preparing to unload a string of curses. but the words die on your lips the moment you hear the low, menacing voice on the other end. it snakes through the receiver, making your stomach drop. 

"you’ll be fucking sorry if ya do that again, sweetheart."

a sharp thud strikes the side of your house, the sound unsettling in the stillness of the night. your breath hitches, pulse racing. just a cat, you tell yourself, forcing down the panic that claws at your chest. you pull the phone from your ear, fingers trembling as you hover over the screen, daring yourself to hang up. you could call 911 in seconds. so fast. 

"don't test me." the voice on the other end, deep and edged with malice, seeps into your veins, freezing you in place. "or i'll have to come in there... and make you regret it." 

your throat tightens. compliance feels like your only option.

your mind is spinning with confusion, thoughts crashing into each other. are you really thinking about provoking this mystery guy, just out of curiosity? you've seen enough horror movies to know the warning: get too close, and you could end up cut to pieces the second he walks through your door.

“what do you want?” you manage to ask, your voice quivering like a fragile leaf in the wind, much to baekhyun’s delight. a smirk dances on his lips as he leans closer, tempted to retract his earlier words. the urge to break in and claim you overwhelms him, a primal instinct igniting within. the way you nervously bite your bottom lip and toy with the hem of your shirt suggests a part of you wouldn’t entirely mind if he did. he can sense it—the shiver in your breath, the heat rising in your cheeks—as if his voice alone is enchanting, stirring an undeniable desire deep within you.

the quiver in your voice sends a thrill through him, a captivating note of fear he savors like fine wine. “no need to be frightened, princess. don’t let those tears spill just yet,” baekhyun teases, his gaze piercing and calculating as he studies your every reaction. “just follow my lead, and i promise, nothing terrible will happen to you.” 

before you can form the words to question his intentions, he leans closer, a predatory glint in his eyes. “now, i want you to put on a little show for me. undress.” 

the thought of performing a sultry striptease for a mysterious, menacing stranger sends a thrilling jolt through you, awakening a passionate fire deep within. yet, it’s the image of your nosy neighbors catching even the slightest glimpse of the entire spectacle that truly makes your heart race, heat pooling low in your core. especially your irresistibly handsome psychologist neighbor—the one who sent your heart into a flurry the day he delivered your mail. the one who makes you blush every time you exchange a casual wave while jogging through the neighborhood, your pulse quickening at the mere sight of him. the one who occupies your thoughts late at night, a persistent whisper in your mind as you find yourself lost in fantasies, touching yourself in the shower, on the bed, and even on the couch. 

baekhyun, oblivious to this electric twist of your fantasy, doesn’t realize he wouldn’t need to intimidate you to stir this desire. just the thought of it has you growing increasingly wet, a delicious tension building with every pulse of anticipation. with a breathless flutter in your chest, you pull the phone away from your face, switching it to speaker mode to free your hands, your mind swirling with the provocative images dancing just beneath the surface.

“if you hang up on me again, i’m coming in, baby,” baekhyun purred, a playful smirk dancing on his lips as his gaze roamed hungrily over you. your heart raced as you slowly grabbed the bottom of your shirt and puling it over your head, revealing the smooth skin beneath, the absence of a bra heightening the tension in the air. the soft fabric slipped from your fingers, pooling on the hardwood floor like a forgotten memory.

“that’s right, angel. show me how soft those beautiful tits are,” you eagerly comply with his instructions, surrendering to the bewitching demands of the distorted voice on the line. your fingers find the hardened buds, pinching and teasing them, drawing out a moan that escapes your lips like a whispered secret. every touch is a spark of pleasure, a sweet indulgence for the faceless stranger lurking at the other end of the call.

baekhyun hums, the sound low and approving, sending a shiver straight through you. your mind races, painting vivid scenes of him pleasuring himself, every motion playing out in your head. "are you getting wet?" he asks, his voice thick with confidence and desire, completely unashamed.

“mhm,” you moan, the sound spilling from your mouth before you even realize it, your fingers swirling around the sensitive buds, lost in a haze of pleasure and anticipation.

“show me.” his voice drips with urgency, each demand more fervent than the last. your breaths come in shallow gasps, the heat of the moment thickening the air around you. you can almost envision him behind the glass, furiously pleasuring himself, absorbed by your every movement. a pang of desire surges within you as you long for him to emerge from the shadows, to reveal the beautiful mess he’s making of himself—flesh against flesh, desire laid bare.

“what's on your mind, princess?” baekhyun’s voice pierces the intoxicating silence, and you realize you’ve been lost in your thoughts, eyes tightly shut against the overwhelming sensation coursing through you. you feel a tingle ripple across your body, heat blooming in various spots as you instinctively begin to explore the terrain of your own desire, your fingers tracing the curves and dips that make you ache for him even more.

"how i love being bossed around like this." the words slip from your lips, dripping with a shameless allure, and the thrill of your own audacity leaves you breathless, too intoxicated to feel regret. a lush moan escapes as your fingers wander, seeking the neglected warmth between your legs, the rough fabric of your denim teasingly obstructing your touch. 

baekhyun’s eyes widen, a quiet laugh almost slipping out at how bold you’ve become. aren’t you an easy little thing? how fast did he get this unfiltered side of you to show—five, maybe six minutes? you moan softly in his ear as you find the perfect angle to touch yourself, waves of pleasure rippling through you. “oh, god,” you gasp, your voice shaky and soft. his breathing picks up, more frantic now, as he watches your every move.

“show me,” he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing whisper that cuts through the stillness of the night. “spread your legs in front of the window, let me watch you.” 

to his surprise, your anticipation matches his own. you lean back, pressing your spine against the side of the couch, ensuring your silhouette is perfectly framed for his hungry gaze. 

he watches closely, his breath catching as you slip out of your shorts, the fabric gliding down your legs. you obey his command eagerly, spreading your legs the moment you're free, revealing yourself to him. the air feels electric, every move adding to the tension between you, pulling him in like a magnetic force of pure desire.

baekhyun’s tongue glides over his lips, drawn to the enticing glimmer that dances on your most intimate folds. “touch yourself,” he commands, urging you to imitate him. you find yourself in the cozy confines of your living room, curtains drawn wide open, exposing you to the well-lit street where the remnants of the halloween night linger. it's well past midnight; the trick-or-treaters have long retreated to their homes. the thought of being caught sends a thrill through both your bodies, a delicious shiver that only heightens the atmosphere.

your fingers glide over your throbbing nub, a sense of urgency building within you as you quicken your pace. baekhyun’s voice breaks through the haze, showering you with praise that excites your desire even further, pushing you to explore your body with passion under his lustful gaze.

“that’s right, baby,” baekhyun murmurs, his voice a sultry whisper that sparks a flame deep within you, sending shivers straight to your throbbing core. his pet names wrap around you like a velvet ribbon and you can’t get enough of it. “ya look so sexy, playing with your pretty pussy for me, princess. she’s drenched for me—so fucking soaked, just from the sound of my voice. you’re leaking onto those floors, all for me, aren’t you?”

he huffs into the phone, the breathless sound thick with need, feeling himself teetering on the edge of bliss. baekhyun fights the urge to shut his eyes, longing to immerse himself in the sensations you’re creating, but he can’t bear to miss a single moment of your tantalizing display. instead, he leans into his words, weaving a web of longing to stave off the impending climax, each syllable dripping with desire.

you’re caught in a fit of sobs and whimpers, completely unable to rein in your emotions. unconsciously, you part your legs as wide as they can go, igniting a delicious burn in your thighs that only heightens your desperation. “you don’t feel embarrassed? hah. playing with yourself like this for a stranger?” his words, juvenile and taunting, only fuel your growing need. you swallow back a sharp retort, wary of the consequences of your attitude. instead, your fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, a forbidden pleasure that leaves you breathless and craving more.

“i-i wouldn’t usually—hnnnghh” your words falter, swallowed by a breathy moan that escapes your lips, the rest of your sentence fading into oblivion. desire surges through you as you feel yourself teetering on the precipice of pleasure, mirroring his own urgency. in that moment, the conversation drifts away, leaving only the sweet sound of your shared, exasperated moans hanging in the air, a testament to the intoxicating connection between you. “but how could i resist? i like you telling me what to do. mmm, and i bet your real voice sounds even sexier.”

baekhyun grunts, his breath hitching as he grips himself, thumb gliding over the sensitive slit and spreading precum across the flushed tip. “don’t worry. you’ll find out soon enough, i promise,” he rasps, his voice low and rough like gravel. you can feel the urgency in his movements, hear the slick sound of his hand moving faster, and even though you haven’t seen his face, the vivid image of his throbbing cock, his eyes fixed on your trembling, bare body, consumes you. your vision fades to white, a wave of ecstasy crashing over you as you give in to the pleasure, squirting onto the window and leaving shiny streaks behind.

baekhyuns groans in your ear, his voice dripping with reckless abandon, echoing through the stillness of the night. he’s completely devoid of class, his primal instincts overpowering any sense of decorum. as he reaches his peak, he releases himself with a fervor that sends a cascade of warmth spilling across the window of his office, just as you did. 

breathless, he watches you through a haze of lust, his eyes heavy-lidded yet filled with a playful intensity. you bite your lip, a gesture that betrays your yearning for more, your body aching for repeated waves of ecstasy. is it possible you don't want this night to slip away into oblivion? 

“huh. i didn’t think i could do that,” you think outloud watching your juices slowly drip down the window.

“i bet ya could do it again. how ‘bout we use my fingers this time? if you’re a good girl maybe i’ll use my mouth, too.” he teases, a mischievous smirk dancing on his lips. you can't help but shake your head and roll your eyes at the audacity of this mystery man on your phone.

“awwww, why not?” he whines, his tone dripping with mock disappointment. “don’t ya trust me?” his teasing banter lingers in the air, crackling with unspoken desires, making you feel breathless with anticipation.

you can’t quite wrap your mind around how he can ask you a question like that, as if the two of you aren’t complete strangers. it’s as if the memory of his earlier threats has been wiped clean, leaving only the enticing edge of his voice in its place. some twisted part of you takes the reins, shoving your common sense aside. “i’ll treat ya right,” he promises, his tone smooth like velvet. 

your eyes drop, embarrassment flooding through you as you notice the wetness he's drawn out of you with nothing more than his voice. a tightness forms in your chest, the fear of feeling foolish creeping in, but your arousal only grows, pushing aside any doubt. the tingling in your clit fades, shifting into a steady, throbbing rhythm—an unspoken invitation.

baekhyun watches with a teasing spark in his eyes as your shaky legs carry you toward the front door. in no time, he’s outside, making his way to you. he hears the soft clatter of you fumbling with the lock, and when it clicks open, it feels like an unspoken invitation for him to step inside. the tension between you hums, daring him to close the gap and take control, face to face. the air crackles with the thrill of giving in, charged with a magnetic pull that’s impossible to resist.

you fling the door open, and there he is—a tall figure standing silently in a ghostface costume. your eyes trail over him in confusion, pausing when they land on his shoes. you know those sneakers. the kind hypebeasts chase after, selling for a fortune after retail. only one person on this block would own them. only one.

and you’re sure you saw him earlier today through that very window your orgasm stains, wearing those exact shoes, hauling bags of groceries into his house.

“baekhyun?” you breathe, suddenly feeling small. a flutter of butterflies coursing through your stomach as your gaze lands on his right hand, gripping his phone. your number is glaringly lit on the screen.

“trick or treat?” his voice dances like a playful tune behind the mask, a teasing reminder of the pleasure he just gave you. he slowly lifts the mask from his face, letting it rest atop his head, revealing a smile so radiant it could light up the empire state building. the smile feels oddly out of place, totally clashing with the filthy phone call you just shared—a side you'd never expect from a psychologist.

and then it hits you—you don’t truly know him. you have no idea that, when you're not around, he slips the spare key hidden under the rock in your front yard and lets himself into your home. you’re oblivious to him wandering through your space, climbing the stairs to your bedroom, rifling through your drawers, trying to piece together the mystery of who you are. he’s desperate to learn you in ways your belongings might reveal.

you’d never guess that while you’re out early in the morning, heading to the bakery before dawn, he’s inside, using that same key. one hand is wrapped fisting himself while the other clutches your worn underwear, pressed against his nose, inhaling your scent like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

you remain completely unaware of it all. as his eyes lock onto yours, heat rushes to your cheeks, creeping up the back of your neck. 

you end the call, watching his screen fade to black, the sudden silence feeling heavier than it should.

wait, when did you give him your number? 

a shiver runs down your spine, an uneasy tension settling in. you try to push it away, but the feeling lingers like a whisper in your mind, urging you to stay on guard. you shake your head, convincing yourself you’re overreacting. it’s a small town; everyone knows each other. he must have gotten your number from someone else. or did you give it to him when you first met? maybe he found it on your bakery's instagram. yup, that has to be it.

feeling a surge of reassurance, you smile back at him. “i didn’t know psychologists enjoyed dressing up for halloween and playing pranks. i always thought doctors were above that,” you tease, your heart racing as he gazes down at you, a predatory glint in his eyes, as if he’s about to destroy you in the most tempting way imaginable.

“there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he replies, stepping confidently into your home and locking the door behind him. his voice is low and inviting. “why don’t i show you?”

he slides the ghostface mask back on, the sinister smile of the mask contrasting with the anticipation in the air. he steps closer, backing you into the living room, his hands slide to your waist, his thumbs drawing soft circles on your sides, sending a rush through your body. you can feel your heart pounding, the air between you buzzing with tension. you bite your lower lip, trying to hide a smile, but the excitement overflows, slipping out as a playful grin.

"you can do whatever you want with me," your voice low and dripping with promise as you guide him toward the couch. the low hum of tension crackles in the air as you straddle him, sinking onto his lap. the air is thick with tension as you settle onto his lap, straddling him. the moment your thighs meet his, you feel his hardened length pressing against your skin, lighting a surge of heat that races straight to your core. his hands glide up the smooth skin of your thighs until they reach your ass, where he cups you firmly, squeezing gently. your breath hitches, the sensation flooding you with anticipation as your body responds to the undeniable pull between you two. the sensation stirs something deep within, wetness pooling between your legs.

"but please, don’t kill me, mr. ghostface..." you whisper softly, your warm breath brushing against his neck, your lips almost touching his skin. you glide them upward, the gentle, teasing contact sending shivers of excitement between you. when you reach the curve of his ear, you linger just long enough to spark an irresistible shiver through him. “i wanna be in the sequel.”

 ੈ✩‧₊ a/n: thank u to this anon for the idea!!! i didn't think i would ever write something like this, but here we are. #neversaynever i guess. oh, and a happy halloweenie to those who celebrate!!!!! <3 what are you dressing up as? stay safe my precious babies love u lotz mwah

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 . 

[netflix]

Spotlight: Adam Stockhausen

Production Designer, The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar

Oscar winning production designer Adam Stockhausen (not pictured above, that’s Benedict Cumberbatch), whose work you may know from Wes Anderson films like The Grand Budapest Hotel, Asteroid City, The French Dispatch, Isle of Dogs, and Moonrise Kingdom, as well as titles like Bridge of Spies, and West Side Story (2021), took the time to answer some questions.

Which details from or aspects of The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar did you focus the most on while adapting it to the screen? How did you meld Roald Dahl and Wes’s worlds?

The details on this one started with Dahl’s writing hut! We matched the details pretty carefully and exactly. As soon as we step outside of the hut though we start to move through the world of the story and the world of the stage at the same time. Wes had the idea of how he wanted to do this from the very beginning. My main challenge was trying to figure out how to pull it off—making the parts move and getting each to have the right detail.

What’s a small change you made on a project that ended up having an unexpectedly significant impact? 

Lots of times this happens—where what seems like a small thing at the time becomes a very significant turning point. I’m in Berlin now writing this and remembering being here scouting for East Berlin for Bridge of Spies. We were struggling to find a section of town that still felt old enough to show the early 60s, and decided to take a chance on a quick search in Poland. That quick search changed the whole production plan and ultimately gave us the look of our East Berlin.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work? 

Technology has definitely changed the way we plan the work. We used to model everything in cardboard or sometimes just plan in two dimensions with pencil and paper. We can now plan in 3-dimensional space using modeling programs and see what real lenses will do.  This allows for more accurate planning and makes scenery moves like the casino set in Henry Sugar possible.

Do you have any signature easter eggs you like to leave? Any small details that you are particularly fond of? 

I wouldn’t say there are easter eggs in this one. But there are loads of special details! I think my favorite might be the levitation boxes where we painted a perspective view of the background onto a prop box. The actor sitting on the box appears to be floating in a very special and theatrical way.

Did you talk about reflecting the iconic Quentin Blake illustrations in production design? How would you go about doing that? 

Not really. They are such incredible drawings and I’d say they’ve been inspiring me since I saw them as a child! But for this the starting point was really the machine Wes devised to move us through the story—and pairing that to specific references scene by scene.

There is such an intentionality to the aesthetics of a Wes world. Is there a set or frame that took you a long time to get perfectly right? 

All of them! It’s a very labor-intensive process getting these frames right. Occasionally one will click right away, but usually it’s a process of refining and refining. The jungle for instance went from sketches to models to samples and back again several times before the final look settled.

If you had to present one frame that showcases the best of your work, what would it be? 

Oh my. Maybe the jungle? I really enjoyed making the jungle!

With all the moving sets in the trailer for The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar, it feels reminiscent of a theatre production. Are there distinct differences in approach between film and theatre and how much do you blur the lines between them in your work? 

I think the lines are blurred completely! Or maybe they aren’t even there. I love that Henry Sugar is so incredibly theatrical in its storytelling.  It allows us to show the artifice of the sets all the time which somehow makes them even more satisfying when they finally do line up and create a complete picture. I think the casino set is a perfect example—the pauses where it all lines up for a second are even more enjoyable because we get to see it broken apart and sliding away.

Thanks, Adam!

[dsknsk]

Limbus Company and its visual portrayal of female characters, an essay

Limbus Company, and by extent, Project Moon has been a great example of how female characters are visually portrayed. In this article, I’ll try to dissect why and how, focusing on Limbus Company as it has by far the largest amount of images I can talk about. Let’s dive in.

Disclaimer: I'm by no means a professional so please, PLEASE don't clown on this i.e mention the summer controversy. I have a personal trauma on that and do not wish to revisit it. I know it's practically impossible to ask from tumblr, but still.

Visually portraying a subject

Where to start? At the very beginning, of course. Portraying a subject visually (not talking about female characters in specific yet) has a number of things attached to it. Perhaps the first question one can ask themselves is this:

Where do I want the focus to be?

Now, you can be short and say ‘the subject, of course’, but even then, that won’t often be precise enough. Let’s say you have a butterfly as your subject. Do you want the focus to be on its beautiful wings? Or its curious multi-faceted eyes, or its roll-up tongue? What do you want the viewer to notice immediately? 

Arguably, even photos of landscapes have at least one point of focus. The pretty waterfall, the vast mountains, the green pastures or the starry sky. Some have the focus split up in two, where both the lake and the mountains are to be spotted immediately.

How focus can be created

There are multiple ways focus can be drawn to a specific part or to a specific subject. 

One way is to simply make everything but your point of focus uninteresting. A common effect used is the Bokeh, which blurs out the background so that it will automatically appear as less interesting and more as a faded bunch of colors that contrasts with the point of focus which is sharply shot in HD. You can also make the background to be a flat color, like black or white. Some pieces of art additionally add colored shapes or lines behind the subject as to accentuate it further.

(an example of Bokeh. In addition, the direction in which another character looks shows what our main subject is, who is actually positioned off-center.)

You can also just…fill the space with the subject, as in a close-up of the thing in question. Following the previous butterfly example, it’s like only showing a small part of its wings, enlarged to comparatively huge proportions. This is also seen in portraits and to a lesser extent, similar art like waist-ups.

The eye is immediately drawn to what we should look at, which is the character who’s front and center in the image. Secondarily the blood. Her hair also uses the next point below: color.

If you’re working with color, then color is an excellent way to bring the focus to a subject. Bright colors and contrasts can be used, like what’s done here:

The bright red forms a direct contrast to the green that dominates the color pallette. It thus leads the eye to the red areas - aka the blood the character is spilling as well as her face, which is technically a tint of red. The red returning in her eyes which have a small trail, and on her bloodied face, as well as the yellow of her tie, further help to bring focus to her face and her expression. (Other than that, this image also has classic cartoon speed lines, which are minor but do help).

Light is also something I should mention. Using the image from above, the character is actually rushing towards the darker areas of the image. The light is coming from where she seemed to come from, judging by the speed lines and the trail of red we just saw in all its glory. The light forms a line around the subject which keeps said subject’s green uniform from blending into the darkness and the green of the image.

There is a specific technique called chiaroscuro (lit. ‘light-dark’) which is totally a real thing that even old masters like Rembrandt have used to bring focus. The gist of it is that the painting has very bright areas which is the subject, surrounded by dark areas, with not much in between. This technique is often used to make scenes more dramatic, and to immediately show us what the artist wants us to see, without any possible doubt. It’s like putting a spotlight on your head in a dark room. Chiaroscuro is also seen in Limbus:

You can’t actually see much of the room our subject is in. The only light is coming from the candles, illuminating the top part of our subject. The other, darker half is much harder to see the details of. This makes it so that the eye is led from either the character towards the source of the light (the candles) or in reverse, both of which are possible and valid because in both cases, we ignore the pitch black part of the artwork.

How to create focus with characters (in specific)

Now, humans and humanoids are fascinating subjects to focus on, because there are so many situations a person can be in, and so much stuff a person can be. Are they the commander of a spaceship? A medieval ruler? An overworked office clerk? There are specific things that more or less pertain to humanoid characters more. I’m going into two aspects, clothing and posing - I’m aware there’s more, but for the sake of making this not longer than it is I’m going into only those two.

1. Clothing

What someone wears makes up a considerable part of how they’re seen and what they are presumed to be. This is also a large part of stereotyping. If you're wearing a t-shirt with pants, sunglasses, and have a camera around your neck, chances are people think you’re a tourist. To them, it likely won’t matter if you are, they will perceive you as one anyway. This is also important here: you might want to pretend you don’t know anything about the portrayed character or show their image to an unknowing friend and see what they think that the character is.

And that brings me to this point that I have seen so many times with female characters: their description/role not directly matching with how they are supposed to look if that were true. I’m talking about the battle-hardened veteran without muscles or scars of both kinds (even if adequate healing/scar removal is available in the setting). I’m talking about the scientist with a leotard under their lab coat. However, I’m not saying they should look a certain way or be the same - that’d be boring - I’m saying that…hey, it might make the viewer not take the character as serious as you want them to be.

The way clothing is built up can also serve as a way to bring focus to a specific aspect. Which will most often be either the boobs or the butt (or both) in the case of female characters. Look at this (non-Project Moon) example.

The woman in the front (obviously the focus due to the place she is standing in being squarely in the middle, and her red hair standing out) is the leader of that squad…as well as the strongest in battle. Without any protection of vital organs. With a shape under her boobs that would stab her fatally in the liver if she does as little as bend over.

The way her clothing is built up also brings the focus to her boobs - not only with how they’re prominently on display, but also with the shape the top and the fabric covering her shoulders makes. In a similar vein, her ‘pants’ and the belt all lead the eye downwards to her crotch as well. Furthermore, her thigh highs look skin-tight, bringing secondary focus to her legs, of course.

And last but not least. The guys behind her are actually properly armored from the neck down, making them somewhat more of a homogenous whole… in theory. The different body types, hair, and colors of the armor of the right and left dude make them stand out slightly more, which in turn only accentuates this ridiculous difference. 

I don’t really have many Project Moon-originating images on hand that are similar to this. Every time we’ve had an ID with a female character being the leader of their group (of which we’ve had surprisingly many, actually - Don has two Section Director IDs to boot) they have usually been posing alone, or well, posing…their full uptie art normally shows a moment when they’re beating their enemy into a pulp instead of posing for the camera like in the above image. This is really consistent with the other half of the playable characters, who are male.

I want to give a special mention to two characters despite that. Faust and Rodion are both known as the more well-endowed characters, but from their IDs and E.G.O it is treated as something that’s there rather than something to be exploited.

The blue glint is the highlight here, illuminating her blood-stained clothing but also finding its equal in her small, blue eyes. I have found eyes like this and expressions like this to be quite rare on female characters. Just look at her and her face. She’s completely lost it, wrapped in twisted and warped euphoria of the moment of ‘purging’ another ‘heretic’ - and from the looks of it, the last one on the scene. She’s not even trying to clean her own clothing or face, or expose her boobs. That’s not what matters to her image, showing any kind of skin doesn’t add to her character. She’s caught in this violent moment, having her victim completely in her literal grip - not even her eyes are looking at the camera. This image showcases the violent and sadistic nature of the character.

I find this art to be a curious thing. The background is actually rather bright, making the inverse true: the character is dressed in dark clothing, so that’s what the focus is on instead. Her coat flared out in such a way it can almost be mistaken for the underside of her long hair, making her seem even larger (something certain animals use when threatened to scare others into leaving). Her actual figure is thus more obscured, it only being a few tones darker. The thing that keeps her from being a dark blob in the foreground is her sword, large enough to be an odachi. Because she’s unsheathing it, the glint that comes from the blade immediately draws attention - arguably away from her partially unbuttoned top. The animation of this in the game supports this: no boob jiggle, just her standing calmly in the moment she’s just about to unsheathe her sword.

Because I’m going to use this example further in this thing, keep this one on hand.

An image that’s again in the middle of the action. Rosespanner Workshop Director Rodion is right now turning an enemy into an unrecognizable stain on the pavement with her huge weapon. The highlight is her weapon again, but this time it actually serves as a secondary source of light, illuminating her face. The yellow coloration of this secondary light source also makes the whole thing more interesting than if it just had the background light that serves a similar purpose as it did in the first image of this post. Even though the image has a heavy pinkish tint, the red that splatters all over the scene is still very much present and they draw the eye back to the yellow light. While her pose is ambiguous, it keeps things vague by not putting any sort of focus on her lower body. In any other piece of media this pose would be viewed from another angle, as to profit from as much of her body’s curves. Not here. Her killing an enemy with visible ease is important. Not her pose. This sounds logical, doesn’t it?

2. Posing

Which brings me to this. The way a character is posed also plays a part in their portrayal. It is possible to accentuate certain body parts with this - like when a character brings their hand to their chin, or the way their legs are posed. No matter the actual scene that’s meant, the way the character is posed is a factor that decides how it’s viewed and where the focus lies. Most often I’ve found this to be when a character is shown wielding a weapon, but their ‘battle pose’ being rather something that accentuates their bare skin, or their little clothing that does the same thing.

Is your character actually showing that they’re dangerous through being shown fighting…or are they just sexily posing with a weapon in their hands to add a sense of ‘danger’? Some can be highly difficult to distinguish. Some CGs can show the middle of the action yet the way the character is posed still brings the focus away from the violence or brings a secondary focus to it. Unfortunately I don’t have examples of those on hand but I know they exist.

A character just posing with a weapon isn’t wrong - I draw that all the time - but when the focus is brought to a character’s boobs and/or butt with the pose the character is in, it will be kind of obvious (even if it isn’t true) that sexualizing those features of the character what the artist is really intending to do instead of showing how dangerous she is with the weapon.

I’m going to use this image from Echocalypse as an example. I regularly take poses like this as a reference point and then attempt to make them more realistic, or, funnily, point out their weirdness by putting a male character in it. Often I do this by using them for a different, more appropriately clothed character. This goes to show that clothing can already decide a lot in posing itself.

This character is posing with a weapon, a…particularly huge odachi in this case (I thought it was a staff at first until I saw the hilt). Which is exactly the same what Rodion is doing up there in the image we already handled. Yet, there are subtle differences between that image and this one, and it’s actually more minor than you think it is (disregarding the thematics of the pieces). Both characters…

are posing with an odachi of similar size (assuming that both characters are of similar height for ease of comparison) as opposed to being locked in battle; theoretically making the focus more on how pretty they look

have long hair (that, minus the bun and the bangs, have a similar cut) that makes their silhouette appear larger than it is

do have a relatively bright and sort-of detailed background going on

have large boobs

are unsheathing their weapon just slightly

However, to get to our first difference, we need to get back to point 1: clothing. Using the same two images, the largest difference is clothing. Kurokumo Rodion is wearing all-black clothing that covers her from the head down except for the unbuttoned top. If I had to describe what the other girl is wearing, I’d say she’s wearing a piece of armor on one of her arms, a flowered collar, thigh highs but no footwear otherwise, and something…obviously lingerie/bikini derived. I’m actually not sure if that’s a tail or part of the clothing.

But to return to our point: posing. The pose of Kurokumo Rodion is actually fairly neutral. She’s just standing there, menacingly! (I should note that their normal character talksprites are also just standing there neutrally) No, literally. Anyone with working legs and arms, can reproduce that. Just give them a sword prop and you’re done. Coat cape optional. The way she is standing does convey some sort of subtle confidence, however, just like the way she is actually looking down (at the viewer). It’s likely you’ll see the sword first for the reasons I mentioned when first discussing the piece above and then look at her from top to bottom as usual.

The way our other girl is posed…is a little harder to replicate in real life to say the least. Not only is this a floating pose (i.e you’d need support), the way her body is bent sharply brings the focus upon her boobs and butt. The human body is actually rather flexible, depending on how you’re built of course, but even so I do doubt whether anyone can do this pose even if they could somehow float in mid-air. Or do this lying down. I (someone with joints that are a little too flexible for my own good) haven’t tried and highkey don’t want to. The thigh and upper leg that is prominently on display, along with the way her body curves leads the eye to her butt or downwards towards her legs and feet.

Her facial expression is neutral, but I get some sort of… ‘dreamy’ vibe from it from the traditional anime-like proportions (huge eyes, tiny nose and mouth). Almost as if she’s doing puppy-eyes to beg for candy or something. It’s, well, what most people call to be a ‘babyface’. Kurokumo Rodion is also in ‘anime-style’ and her facial proportions are still a little bit unrealistic, but I do dare to say they’re more realistic than those of the other girl.

Also, small sidepath. What do you think the second girl is based off? One would judge from her tail that it must be some sort of water creature but whether she’s a shark or any other kind of sea creature isn’t really obvious. Would it surprise you if I told you she’s based on a bake-kujira, a SKELETON-whale (which sounds cool as all hell)? Without any kind of skeleton-parts worked into her design? To be fair, I wouldn’t have guessed it either if it were not for her canonical description.

Also, one last note about that latter image. I think that an odachi of that format would be extremely tricky to unsheathe in such a pose, because of the distance between your arms. Her arm that actually unsheathes the thing is also obviously reaching out, so she’d need more strength to do that than what the look of her arms suggest.

Speaking about arms…

On paper, our Limbus girls would have all the reason to have twig arms. After all, the City allows one to get stronger without visually changing their physique much. One can carry around huge weapons like chainsaws, lances and zweihanders without visible muscles. And yet. And yet.

One of the few times bare arms are seen (most art prefers to cover them up - for Limbus standards, this would be the ultimate fanservice thing), it becomes very clear that they at least have a basic tone. Like, the basicest of basic efforts is done to make them not look malnourished. Even if this girl above is not like, the strongest of the world (for as far as we know...) the muscles she does have are very lovingly shaded and detailed. 

To end this, I’ll showcase something one last time with a funny in-game example: Roseate Desire. Roseate Desire is an E.G.O which wraps the wearer in pink ribbons and is highly implied to especially speak to the sin of Lust (which is the affinity of the attack). In the game, this E.G.O is given to two characters, a girl and a guy. In any other gacha game, it would only be given to girls.

While bent over and with a happy expression, she’s still coming to get you. How can you tell? For one, the huge anchor she has with her is within her hand (i.e opposed to it being tied up next to her or something like that), and the shield that’s tied to her arm. Despite being wrapped up, she does still look as if a portion of her is still in control, and her attack suggests the same. 

Hong Lu wearing it always makes me grin. He does wear clawed gloves and his fingers are arched, that’s true, but the way he’s strung up like a puppet makes it so that he can’t even get you with those. The manner in which he is posed and his head is tilted is highly reminiscent of how one would pose a marionette. And ingame properly he doesn’t even use these claws in close combat! He wraps up the enemy in the pink ribbons with doll-like movement. Even the way he’s covered evokes a sense of powerlessness, like he’s led on by the ribbons instead of controlling them.

I think this example, along with the others, is implicative of how Project Moon’s visual portrayal of female characters is done so well. They’re equally portrayed as the male characters, if not arguably more powerful, and there’s an equal roster of 6 to 6. They’re not overtly sexualized by bare skin or impossible poses while the men are covered up in a sensible pose. These are characters designed for their personality and role first, not with fanservice or money in mind first. Even the female NPCs fit within this rule, even though they have less art to go from. When you have a game which had 97% completion on the story and a mere 64% on the systems (i.e monetization) it would kind of figure that character designs fall in line with the role the character fulfills, is it not?

[crushmeeren]

I have another request author

So, What if-

Hinata is having a big party to welcom eback his return from Brazil, and one of our friends confess bein a lil infatuated with Hinata-

And like Hinata and y/n have been secretly dating or sum for a while- or its just only a limited people know they are together-

But the friend is like "Erm I love you hinata!!111" And Hinata is like "Y/n is my type"

IDK

im going crazy

THANK YOU FOR MY OTHER REQUEST THAT WAS YUMMY

Ask and you shall receive, my friend.

(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ ⁀➷ Not me having an extreme amount of fun writing this. Did I make reader or Hinata too mean? Nah, it’s fine.

Master List Link

Note ࿐ྂ there is alcohol involved in this and I’m writing this more or less as [ ຊ FEM READER ຊ ]. This work is suggestive, but no sex or anything of that nature takes place on screen.

Bokuto’s boisterous laughter paints the background as the bitter aftertaste of vodka and orange juice burns the back of your throat, threatening to shoot up and out your nose. You cough harshly, thumping your chest with your fist and mildly avoid spewing the screwdriver every where in shock. You vaguely hear Sakusa scolding Miya Atsumu from the couch nearby.

“Sorry,” you rasp, voice scratchy from your impromptu choking session and meet your friend’s increasingly worried gaze. “What did you just say?”

Your friend, Maki, furrows her eyebrows at you, throwing you a pointed look as if to say your surprise at her confession was inconveniencing her.

“I said — I have a crush on Hinata.” She drags out the words as if you’re incapable of comprehending basic sentences. “Now that he’s back I can confess to him! Do you think he’s single? He never posted any pictures of girls on his Instagram while he was gone!”

And there it was, Maki’s answer filling you with a heavy, nasty dread in your stomach and driving the thundering of your pulse. Your fingers crinkle the plastic solo cup in your hand, threatening to spill the contents onto your shoes.

Whether your reaction is out of jealousy or panic, is unclear. The line blurs further the longer Maki rambles.

Only a few people are aware that you and Shouyou have been dating for the entirety of his absence, and for quite some time before. Your cheeks flush vehemently and you’re sure your skin may go up in smoke.

You can count on one hand the number of people who know your secret, and when you finally agreed to Bokuto’s incessant begging for you to come to this surprise welcome home party at their shared flat, this scenario was not on your bingo card.

“I — I’m not sure.” Your shoulders are up to your ears now and Maki raises an eyebrow in question before her entire expression lights up as she gazes behind you.

It’s all you can do not to attempt to waterboard her with your drink when she smiles slyly over your shoulder and twirls a lock of hair around her finger at whoever is approaching. You know who it is before you can turn around.

“Hey guys!!” A cheery voice rings out from directly behind you and you step to the side to open up the circle for the newcomer. “I’m so happy you came! Bokuto really can be sneaky when he wants to be.” Shouyou slings an arm over your shoulders and tugs you close, hand squeezing your shoulder affectionately.

You lean into his side automatically, the scent of his summer inspired cologne tickling your nose and making that familiar sweet warmth pool in your belly.

You don’t miss the discontent that flickers across Maki’s face at the close contact, but it’s gone before you can blink. You peak to your left and see Kageyama has appeared like a ghost flickering into existence as well.

“Of course Hinata! I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!” Maki giggles as the end of her sentence, fluttering her eyelashes a little at Shouyou.

Your spine stiffens, teeth grinding together. Shouyou must notice, because he squishes you tight against his side in reassurance. Kageyama dutifully takes the solo cup that’s rapidly getting crushed by you in order to prevent a mess, features revealing nothing as he silently watches the show unfold.

Shouyou smiles sincerely. “I appreciate that Maki. It’s so awesome to see all of my friend’s again! I really missed everyone.”

“I’m sure you did, you know, since you were so lonely over there in Brazil.”

Shouyou pauses briefly.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Well, you never did post any girls on your Instagram! I’m sure your bed was quite cold at night. Nobody to help heat you up under the covers,” she says as she pushes out her lower lip.

Your hands start to sweat as Maki continues speaking, boldly flirting with your boyfriend right in fucking front of you. You’re very close to punching her in the nose, yet you pause, sharing a tension filled look with Kageyama as Shouyou chuckles in good nature before you can step in.

“Nah, I managed fine.”

“Oh? How?” Maki’s grin is filled with self satisfaction as she thinks she’s got Shouyou right where she wants him.

“I had beautiful pictures of my girlfriend to stare at, duh.”

The base of the music thumps in the background, but you could hear a pin drop in the silence that engulfs the four of you.

“Girlfriend?” She squeaks, thoroughly confused.

Shouyou nods, twisting his neck to plant an exaggerated kiss on your still blush filled cheek.

“Yep!” He pops the p at the end. “This pretty girl here made sure to send me the most mouth watering pictures.” White hot embarrassment floods through your body, but you remain frozen in place as he barrels on. “Besides, now that I’m home, if she’s willing, she’ll be able to keep my bed warm tonight! I was going to ask her to ride me actually, ya know, to keep the blood flowing. My hips are still a bit sore after all,” he chatters happily, but there’s a finality in his tone that leaves no space for argument.

Humiliated? Yes. Unbelievably satisfied yet feeling guilty? Check. Wanting to rip your boyfriend’s clothes off in the middle of the living room? Fuck yes.

Nobody says anything as Maki’s face turns into a tomato, mouth opening and closing like a fish. She turns her irate pout towards you, ready to tell you off and that’s when Kageyama snorts, cracking up as he’s unable to hold in his laughter any longer as he covers his mouth with his hand.

Shouyou giggles next to you and all you can do is shrug weakly at Maki in a barely there apology. She spins on her heel and storms off and you sag in relief, you have half a mind to apologize properly later on for letting her embarrass herself like that.

“You’re an idiot Sho,” you snap suddenly, violently elbowing the ginger in the stomach and ignoring the resulting “oof” as you start to stomp away.

Kageyama laughs harder and Shouyou calls out sorry’s after you as you disappear into the kitchen.

“Baby wait! You’ll still warm my bed tonight right?” He shouts over the music at you, amused and entirely unbothered.

You flip him off over your shoulder, knowing he and Kageyama are laughing together like school girls.

Nevertheless, as you make yourself a brand new cocktail, you admit to defeat in your head, because you will still warm his bed tonight and every night after that.

[reikamasama]

𝙰 𝚂𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝙾𝚏 𝚆𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚖 ? II (DISCONTINUED)

Pairing ; Hazbin Hotel X G/N Teen!Reader

Warnings ; implications of Abuse/Manipulation

Word count ; 5.9K

Summary ; You and Rosie are on an outing together, purchasing clothing and eat a meal together! Little did you know you were about to start a new chapter in your life.

⁀➷Prologue, ꕥ chapter I, ꕥ Chapter II

The grass excels a beautiful green color as it gently flows with the breeze, allowing it to pass through with multiple leaves and petals that have fallen from the mixed trees. The different trees sway softly as they sunbathe underneath the tropical sun. There’s a soft smell of grass and flowers that beams through the air. 

The park is as empty as ever— not a sound can be heard. The flower gardens are overgrown and the benches are on their last leg, as vines have taken over the majority of them, painting them in the colors of nature; with the orange slowly but surely fading away. 

Your eyes stare at the photo of Minori, Yuki, Rinku and you.. standing in this park on its dock with big smiles on your faces. You look so happy.. 

They look so happy.. you were at peace when you were with them.

You can still remember the scent from the picture, even if your only looking at it. You smile sadly at your phone, you miss them, you really do but your mother has restricted you from seeing them under the exam-season. Yes, you may have not obeyed that rule as you’ve been meeting them in secret, but it still pained you that you weren’t allowed to be with them. 

According to your mother they were ‘bad influences’, due to them not being ‘study motivated’. 

You have tried explaining to her that you did help them by tutoring them, she got very angry — or maybe annoyed was the right word? Either way she told you that it would stunt your own development if you needed to assist others all of the time instead of focusing on my own studies. Her claims were ludicrous, but she is your mother after all, and they.. do know best. 

Your eyes scan the photo, it looks so cheerful, you were all doing silly little poses while smiling. The matching flowers you all decided to wear in your hair blends very well with the cherry blossom leaves falling in the background of the photo. The screen light is the only thing you can focus on right now, as the ends of your bittersweet smile can only grow. 

That day was one of the best days in your life. You were able to clear your head, be away from your studies and you were able to be with your friends. It was an actual dream come true and you wanna go back to that moment.. maybe if you just space out you can relive that moment..

“[Name] what are you looking at, dear?”

Her smile is sweet, offering you your false sense of security like she always does. Or maybe it is real..? 

You snap out of your day dreaming state, her voice fills the empty air as she speaks your name. Your vision blurs and you blink helping you regain your vision whilst putting your phone down — looking around. 

You are standing in a darkened room, it’s filled with quiet whispers as they look at the different exhibits. Wait.. weren’t you just at home? When did you go to the art exhibit. You can’t seem to remember anything as your eyes fixate of your mother remembering her question.

“Ah, i was just looking at the time”

You pause before you continue,

“I know you allowed me to have a study free day so i could join you at this art exhibit, and i am thankful that you wish for me to broaden my creative mind! So i was only checking the time making sure we didn’t have to go home anytime soon!”

Lies, lies and more lies drip through your teeth, it’s like your whole life is built up on lies. Lies to please her, lies to please your mother. You feel your own body enter a dull state, slowly draining all your emotions like a puppet on a string, your eyes feel more dull, you can barely remember if you have blinked at all.. you force a smile as your eye twitches, luckily your mother didn’t notice.

“I’m glad you are enjoying your time here, honey! How about we take a look at that painting over there?” 

She asks you; looking at you expectantly awaiting a response.

“Yes mother, let’s! It looks quite lovely from over here.”

Her face turned into a pleased expression clasping her hands together as she begins to make her way towards the painting. You follow — having your hands intertwined as they sit in front of you. You keep a steady pace as you follow her, hearing a tap with every step you take. You swiftly make your way to a small crowd of people admiring the displayed painting.

You squish yourself into the crowd surrounding the painting. It reeked of perfume, it made your nose scrunch up as you felt the different fragrances collide creating that horrid stench. You look to your right — eyeing your mother before you follow her gaze letting yours land on the painting. It is a very strange piece.? It has a few lines and circles drawn on it. It barely had any variation with shapes or colors, it was a simple painting only using different shades of greens and blues. How do people enjoy this so called ‘art’? It feels empty, there’s no thought or emotion put into that thing.. there’s no message the art is trying to forward, there’s no eye catching features, it’s a whole lot of nothing. At least from what you can tell. 

You grow restless.. the painting goes from boring to ugly, you don’t want to see it anymore, no. You want to leave.. standing in the crowd makes you feel nervous, it feels as if a pair of eyes are always on you, the feeling haunts you and sends a shiver down your spine. Despite this spacious room and the fact it’s not filled to the brim with people you still fear that you are being watched, making you feel a need to make no mistake. Make no mistake. You can’t make a mistake. Ever. Never ever. Why is the room so wide.. why is it so dark, why is it so cold..? 

You exhale quietly and you swore you were able to see a little cloud form in front of your face due to the chilly air. A voice snaps you out of your strange day dreaming state once again. 

“Dear this piece has such value doesn’t it?”

God, you really gotta stop doing this. Your neck snaps towards your mother’s direction, a forced smile stays plastered on your face. 

“Yes of course, i liked its creative aspects quite a lot.”

Lies, come on just speak the truth!

“Are you ready to move onto the next piece?”

Yes, you don’t want to be here: you wish for her to let you go home.

“Yes mother!”

You escape the rich scent making your way out of the crowd. 

Clack. That sound echoed though the venue as the picture perfect mother and child makes their way to another painting, this one only had a few people admiring it and you mentally relaxed ever so slightly — knowing it won’t have that rich people scent all over the place. Your mother and you finally reach the painting, your eyes land on the colorful canvas and it reminds you of something. 

The painting resembles a beautiful flower that’s placed inside of a vase, that is on a cozy wooden table. The flower in itself struck you with such a spesific feeling, like something you’ve seen before. It has such gradient colors and this is something that pulls you in. You could tell that the artist has put their heart and soul into this and there is definitely some kind of message that you might not be able to decipher — but you knew that this painting was something special.. Wait a minute.. 

It’s as if a puzzle has been solved inside of your brain, a certain piece of said puzzle that has been misplaced finally finds its place. This flower is recognizable due to it being the same flower you and your friends were wearing in the picture! You feel a strange wave of happiness sending throughout your body, you feel like you’re back in control it’s you now, it’s really you. Like the strings have been lifted but you lifted them on your own.

“Oh my god, [Name]? I never knew you were into art, what are you doing here!”

Arms wrap around your shoulders as you hear a chuckle, they spin you around only to lock you in a hug. Your eyes lay upon the figure who’s hugging you, it was the one and only Yuki. She normally isn’t this affectionate, but it’s probably due to the fact you haven’t been able to meet her a lot recently. 

“Oh, dear is this a friend of yours?”

You freeze in Yuki’s grip feeling her arms gently let go of you, freeing you from her warm embrace. You don’t want her to meet her, what if she.. disapproved.?

“Yes mother, this is Yuki!”

You pause before you stand in the middle of the two your eyes mostly staying on your mothers. 

Her snake eyes — eye Yuki up and down with a judgmental look before her face softens up and she smiles calmly.

“Hello there Yuki, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

⋇⊶⊰  n o  ⊱⊷⋇

Your body leans against the oddly comfortable mattress in your newfound room. You had been in Rosie’s care for a few weeks now and you have grown quite fond of her. Rosie has always been such a darling to you, prioritizing your needs over her own. She has helped guide you throughout hell and there’s quite a lot you had to learn. 

You made sure to jot down the most important parts in a notebook, just in case. Your fingers trace alongside the surface of the notebook, it had a black cover with a rose on it. Allowing your thumb to fall on the cover of the notebook, opening it. 

The first page has the headline ‘Important’ on it. The handwriting was a very readable one, something your mother had taught you from an early age

“Having a presentable writing style will make you stand out above the rest and bring you more job opportunities”

Gosh, you really need to stop thinking about her, she isn’t here anymore. She isn’t here. Is she? You are your own dependent person now, heck Rosie is more of a mother than she ever will be. Your strings have been cut and you are no longer her puppet. 

You’re grateful for having Rosie take care of you, really. But the freedom hell was able to provide you was an overwhelming sensation to say the least. 

Before you fell down to hell your mother controlled your whole life, from your clothes to the actions you made, it was all things she controlled on your never ending stage. 

It was like you were acting in a one man show — creating the most pleasing stage performance to the person you were supposed to love and trust the most.

You were tired, really really tired and you had never taken a notice to this until you got an actual good nights rest your first few days here with Rosie. You were forced to be in bed rest by Rosie, and she was not taking no for an answer.  She has brought you meals, decorative items for your room and went to you just to chat about her emporium and other gossip. You listened to her rants, her voice had such emotion, emotion your mother never was able to give you. Rosie and you also had had conversations about the pain in your throat, she made sure to bring you all sorts of foods and drinks trying to help you get better, and within these few weeks it was like you were building up a kind of ‘talk tolerance’. You were now able to hold multiple conversations before your throat gives you the sensation of that sharp pain you felt once you first meet Rosie.

Speaking of Rosie, she wished for you to join her for an outing today. 

You weren’t quite sure what the outing was for but you knew she was going to bring you outside of cannibal town, that in itself is a rare occasion. You swing yourself off of the bed letting your feet land on the floor with a quiet ‘thud’. You stand up and stretch, raising your arms towards the ceiling as you let out a yawn, stretching your sore muscles. You let out a satisfied exhale as you walking over to your drawer hearing a creek sound coming from the creaky wooden floors with each step you take. 

You slip on some clothing that Rosie has been lending you over these past weeks, they might have been a tad big on you, you didn’t mind though. You took a glance at yourself in the mirror, admiring your demon features before you fix your hair making you look presentable. You slip on some shoes before you reach out for the golden knob on the vintage themed door. 

Your eyes look back to glance on the room once last time before you leave, making sure to hadn’t forgotten anything, not that you had much to leave anyway..

Once you confirm that there’s nothing you’re leaving behind you twist the doorknob and exit the room. 

You make your way though the darkened hallway, it’s only light being provided by a little lamp at the end of the hallway. Your fingers trace along the cold wall as you walk to the end of the hallway. You really liked the vintage theme to the whole town, it’s just like the history books you used to read and it makes you feel welcome, you used to have a modern home back on earth so this was a nice change of pace. Your feet clack whilst making contact with the wooden flooring, your footsteps are the only thing that can be heard down the echoey hallway, you steadily reach the wooden stairs. Your hand reaches to hold the un-even railing of the staircase as you begin walking down it, carefully letting your hand slide down the railing to make sure you don’t get any splinters. You stumble when you’re at the bottom step and clumsily make an entrance to the emporium. 

You quickly straighten your backs and brush of imaginary dust off of your clothing, wishing to the seven rings of hell Rosie did not see your little mishap. Your eyes scan the area landing on Rosie standing behind the emporiums counter, you feel warm upon seeing her little smile as she counts money, it seems that her shop has been doing very well today! You feel a smile grow on your face as your legs gravitate towards the counter, step after step you slowly get closer to Rosie with your quiet footsteps tapping on the stone like floor. Rosie seemingly was stuck in her own world as you reached the counter and stood behind it, not sure if she was able to sense your presence. You were about to clear your throat to catch her attention but her voice interrupted your actions;

“Ah, [Name] you have finally arrived, you know keeping a lady waiting is very rude now— oh I’m just kidding no need to break a sweat over this dear!” 

She chuckles at her own ranting before she places the money back in the register, her fingers fiddles with a stubborn lock and you decide it’s a good time to ask her what you are even going to do.

“So, Rosie. You have never taken the time to explain what exactly this outing is for?”

You say this wearing a normal expression, but your voice gives you away as it sounds more confused if anything. 

Rosie lights up ever so slightly at the mention of the outing as she clasps her hands together,

“Well my dear [Name], we both know that you have been borrowing a lot my stuff since you have arrived here,”

She pauses wich leaves room for you to input an apology.

“Yes about that I’m sorry Rosie—“

“No no! I do not mind at all, after all if i didn’t wish for you to borrow my things i wouldn’t have permitted you to use them.”

You knew arguing with Rosie about this wouldn’t lead anywhere, she was a stubborn lady who stood her ground, you respected that and honestly kind of envied it. It’s something you were never able to do, stand up to yourself. 

Rosie places a hand on her hip as she continues with a soft look on her face.

“Well the reason for this outing today is that we are going to purchase you new clothing! I believe you would like to wear other clothing than what you are borrowing from me at the moment, hm?”

You have never really thought of it before, you were used to your mother purchasing all of your clothes so getting to borrow some from Rosie was nothing too different. Rosie’s clothing may have been a bit too oversized on you but it was nothing that hindered you, from work or anything of the sorts but you have been a bit interested in the world of clothing, maybe this is a way you’ll be able to express yourself! Maybe a new start? You like the sound of that, the sound of you becoming your own person.

“While i don’t mind wearing this, they are quite comfy after all! It would be nice with something that’s a little more.. me.?”

The end of the sentence trails off feeling like you’re having a hard time choosing the right wording. 

She chuckles and lets one of her hands fall onto your shoulder, patting it before making her way to the front of the counter. Your hands fold as you let them rest in front of you.

“Shall we?”

Rosie says, offering you a toothy smile as you nod. The two of you make your way to exit the emporium.

⋇⊶⊰  s t u c k   ⊱⊷⋇

The sound of you and Rosie’s footsteps straddling along the sidewalk can barley be heard as demons outside of cannibal town seem to be more indecent, loud fights and conversations followed along with blasting TV’s follow trough out the streets of the pride ring. Your eyes dart around the overwhelming streets. You feel rather tense, staying on guard with each step you take. With every passing second your muscles become more sore as you feel uncomfortable. 

You never knew what to expect from hell.. but this was exactly like Rosie explained it — if not even worse.. 

You feel a slender hand find its way on the small of your back as it makes you stop in your tracks and urge you in a direction to a certain store. Your head swiftly turn only to see Rosie standing there with her normal grinning self looking down at you giving you a reassuring smile. Your head turns to the direction she is urging you in. It was a tailor store, and it was also the only eye catching store on the street as it was the only store that hadn’t been completely torn.. You hesitate before reaching your hand out to the handle. your fingers slowly grip around the oddly long handle.. huh its strangely cold for something that’s in hell. You inhale deeply trying to shake off the odd feeling you’ve got brewing inside of you.

The inside of the shop has a very cozy feeling, it has very fitting colors that reminds you of the Victorian era. There’s very over-the-top fancy decors on both furniture and clothing with golden accents. Your eyes dart around the store landing on different mannequins dressed in all sorts of clothing, from frilly to pointy, casual to formal — there’s a bit of everything in here. 

“Oh this shop has always had such a nice feeling to it, maybe i should ask them to be a part of cannibal town! Haha”

Rosie laughs at her little comment before her eyes dart to you,

“So dear, what do you think? Where would you like to start?”

Her question makes you stop in your tracks, she’s right, where should you start? You could start with shirts? Maybe pants? Maybe accessories — ugh.. this is gonna be harder than you expected.. you consider your options

“How about we take a stroll around the shop? And see if i find something eye catching along the way?” 

She agrees with you as she follows you around the store.

You have a hard time at first, it was difficult learning how to figure out your likes and dislikes. You feel different pieces have different textures and colors, you now have an understanding for your mother who took a long time in stores like these — it was a struggle picking out outfits that would look nice together. 

It takes you a second but you start warming up a little after Rosie points out a few articles of clothing here and there and not long after, you’ve managed to fill a bag of clothes. You feel proud of yourself, it’s your beginning to the new you. The clothing you’ve picked out is very different from what your mom used to choose for you. You were always told as a kid that you were dressing in such an ‘adult’ like-way, little did they know it was cause you never were allowed to choose clothing of your own. 

You take a quick look through the bag feeling that you’ve picked out enough clothing to fill out your wardrobe. Rosie was hesitating — feeling that you could pick out even more but she decided to sneak in a few more pieces just to help you out a little.

When you told Rosie you felt finished with your shopping the two of you went to the fitting rooms. 

You feel the soft fabric of the curtain against your fingers as you open it with a bit of force. Rosie hands you the bag she’s been carrying all of this time and you let out a quick ‘thank you’ before closing the velvet curtain allowing you to change. 

There’s multiple mirrors in the dressing room and it feels so strange being able to see yourself from different angles all at once. You gently place the bag on the floor with a little ‘plop’ before you bend down picking up different pairs of shirts and trousers gently placing them on the little black wooden stool inside of the dressing room. You undress yourself, starting with your shirt, then the rest. You get kind of distracted being able to see yourself in the mirror in such a state, yes you’ve seen your full demon form before but it still strikes you as odd no matter how many times you see yourself. Your hands hover over the shirts before you find one that sticks out amongst the rest as you pick it up. You raise your arms sliding your hands and head trough the holes of the shirts, and as its on you adjust the shirt smoothing out any wrinkles you can find. You smile to yourself, the shirt has a very soft color and it has a few frills adding some volume to it. Now all you needed were a pair of trousers, you find a pair that you see fit with the shirt and slide them on, you can feel the soft texture of the trousers and it is very comfortable. 

You admire the outfit you’ve put on in the mirror, it really suits you and you feel it brings out a whole new side from you. Huh i guess, ‘clothes makes the sinner’ really is true! 

“I’m done!”

You say in a louder tone, a tone audible enough for Rosie to hear but not close to make anybody else believe you’re an obnoxiously loud asshole. 

Your voice tells Rosie that you’re done and her face turns to the silky curtains you’re hiding behind, looking expectantly at it. Your hands grab onto the velvet curtains struggling once again to slide the curtain open, but as it slides open you take a step out of the dressing room, resting your hands clasped together in front of you like you usually do. You were expecting a reaction from Rosie but you were certainly never expecting her to start clapping to the outfit you’ve put together. 

“My, this is definitely better than i expected! It fits you so well, dear!” 

She coos followed along by a chuckle;

“Go on now, don’t just stand there! Give me a little spin!”

You do just that, lifting the weight off of your feet as you give Rosie a gentle spin showing her your whole outfit. 

She keeps on complimenting you and your outfit making you feel embarrassed as your cheeks grow warm. 

“Aha.. thank you Rosie, I’m glad you like it.”

Your words were short but your voice sounded sincere, you are not used to all this attention she’s giving you.. but you have got to admit that it feels nice. 

“Here dear, try this hat on I’m sure it will add  to your look quite a lot!~”

She gives you a playful wink, followed by her hands reaching out for your head, gently placing the hat on you. Your head turns to look into one of the mirrors in the dressing room. You felt a bubbly feeling inside of your chest, you just felt so happy.. you looked so pretty — and it’s all thanks to Rosie letting you be, well you! You smile feeling a little tear build up, but you softly rub your eye and turn back to Rosie with a smile, an authentic smile. 

“Thank you Rosie!”

You chuckle along side with her as she pats you on the back;

“Of course dear, you look lovely!”

Her hands move from your back to your shoulders before she urges you into the changing room once again, she lets go of your shoulders once you’re in the room and grabs onto the curtain.

“Try on those other outfits now! We don’t got all day i still have a few things planned for us!”

You felt very confident after the interaction. Rosie has been nothing but supportive and that doesn’t change as you try on the different outfits. She praises them one by one and it was strange.. you don’t remember placing some articles of clothing in the bag? Oh well, it worked out in any case so that’s fine. When you were done with the little ‘shopping spree’ you felt famished and Rosie suggested that the two of you headed to a restaurant that she had been eyeing for a while, you trusted in her style and the two of you made the way to a restaurants. It was a very classy restaurant and multiple sinners where there, sinners with more money and have a higher status in hell. You may not really be important to hell but you are in important company. You believe you recognize multiple of the sinners there. At one of the tables you believe that Carmilla sits there along side with her daughters, on another table across the restaurant your able to see the Vees— their loud and obnoxious well at least Vox and Valentino is Velvette couldn’t care less it seemed. A sinner came up to you and Rosie bringing the two of you to a table that’s placed far away from Carmilla and the Vees. 

The table presented in front of you seems to be in a more secluded area as multiple tables were empty. You thanked Lucifer for being in a less crowded space. You feel your tense shoulders soften up and only then you realized how truly tense you have been this whole outing. You exhale quietly before pulling out the chair that’s presented before you, it is a very.. normal chair, nothing special like you thought this place would be since Rosie seems to prefer class. You sit down onto the not-so-soft chair. 

“You seem to have finally relaxed dearie, did you not enjoy your free shopping spree?”

She says that with a smug expression on her face as she sits down and crosses her leg over the other.

You feel a bit panicked — swiftly trying to explain yourself,

“No that’s not it at all Rosie! I appreciate your help! Hell is just — hell you know..!”

You chuckle quietly at your own pun as Rosie chuckles alongside you.

“Well i certainly can’t blame you for that, in any case dear welcome to one of my favorite restaurants in hell! Now i do prefer.. meatier meats, i assumed you were not into trying that yet, am i right?”

You nod not really saying anything, and after a second or so a waiter comes up to the table in a strangely good timing. You look at the waiter and they look tired, like they hate their job — you expect to hear a tired annoyed voice as they speak;

“What would you like Miss Rosie and..?”

“Mx. [Name] is fine!”

Their voice was strangely happy as they handed out the menu’s,

“So, what would the two of you like? Or shall i circle back later to take your order?”

You pick up the menu to scroll trough it quickly, there was a lot of options with really fancy names that honestly were hard to read.. but you did regonize some of the desserts.. ‘cheesecake’ ‘Velvette cake’ ‘cupcake’ ‘angel food cake’ hmm.. there is a lot of cake in here— wait! Angel food cake? Sign me up! You softly place down the menu noticing how both Rosie and the waiter was starring at you rather intensely and it made you feel nervous, so you stutter as you speak;

“I..l have the angel food.. cake.” You pause;

“Please.” 

Rosie smiles and looks to the waiter, 

“well you heard the little darling, one angel food cake, and double it!”

The waiter scribbles in their little notebook with their tired face looking more lively now.

“And what would you like to drink”

You felt the day has been kind of tiering, so a simple water couldn’t do you any harm.

“Just some water..”

The waiter nods and glances at Rosie whom just nods quietly telling the waiter she was going to order the same as you. The waiter quickly scribbles on the notebook before taking their leave the two of you to chit-chat. 

Your eyes wander around the restaurant not specifically looking at anything in particular. Time feels — awfully slow for some reason, tick, tock ,tick ,tock.. the clock clouds your brain. 

Its ticking reminds you of the late study sessions, the smell of your room. The god awful smell of cleaning products.

Tick, tock, tick, tock. 

The day of you dying came back to you. The moments pretending to spare your mother only to murder her in cold blood. You remember her face, it was an expression you had never seen from her before - but you knew it all to well. 

It was an expression you had worn multiple times before, she had made you feel so small.. so little, she got what she deserved .. right? Right. Im sure you’re just being dramatic, she never did you any good! She only feed you, bought you clothes, gave you a roof over your head she even made you meals…. all you had to do was study… no, no that’s not true stop!

“[Name] dear, you’re spacing out again, what are you doing in that little brain of yours hm?”

Your eyes flutter in confusion, your nose has now been filled with the scent of angel food cake, your pupils darted to the plate of dessert in front of you, it looked just like it did back on earth. Your eyes darted to look at Rosie’s and her expression is difficult to read, that’s Strange your normally swell at reading emotions.

“Sorry,”

Your voice sounded quiet and you raised it to a normal speaking volume;

“What were you saying Rosie?”

The lady chuckled at you before lifting a little fork in her hand taking a bit of the angel foodcake before placing it in her mouth, quickly swallowing it as she answers your question.

“Well pay attention now, for what I’m about to say is important.”

You nod at her statement letting your eyes remain on the gray ladies pupils as you pick up the silverware in your hand, the fork is small and you slice off a bit from your dessert parting your lips as you try the delectable dessert. The flavor beams through your mouth, it’s a bit too sweet for your taste but it makes you happy. You happily listen to Rosie as you chew on the little treat.

“It has been a lovely time to have you around the emporium, and you have brought me a good business I’ll tell ya that! But i believe it’s time..”

She pauses — you presume it’s for dramatic effect as you keep eating pieces of the angel food cake.

“..for you to go to the hazbin hotel.”

You choke on your dessert a little, your hand reaches out for the water as you quickly pour the liquid down your throat, to wash the stuck piece away. What did she just say. The hazbin hotel? The one she has spoken about before? Redemption? you? — hah no way! 

You have stopped eating now and the little fork you used to hold in your hand has now fallen onto the plate, you don’t react through. Your expression is so confused, scared, surprised a whole package deal.

“Now dear, calm down you’ll be allowed to visit me anytime! I just believe you shouldn’t be stuck in hell for eternity, sure! You fucked up.. yeah you may be flawed, but i can tell that you’re a good kid, [Name]. 

“Even if i don’t believe in redemption, go prove me wrong with that strong will of yours!”

..does she actually mean that, does she believe you can be redeemed? You killed someone, but she still believes in you.. you take a deep breath — inhale, exhale.

“Are you.. are you sure.. i mean I’m not doubting you I’m just— what if they won’t accept me there..?”

Your voice struggles with the sentence you’re not sure what to say.. it all just feels like a big decision to make on a whim. Your hands fiddle with anything they can get their hands on and Rosie smiles sadly at you whilst your eyes dart down to look at your hands.

“I’m sure you will dear, and if anything and i mean anything bothers you, the emporium will always be open.”

Her words were calm, comforting even — but now her words weight on you. You want to do your best for Rosie.. but can you?

..

..

..

..

..

—

Of course you can.

Your [Name] after all. 

⋇⊶⊰  y o u ?  ⊱⊷⋇

You wave a nervous hand to Rosie before you turn a 180, allowing you to get a good view at the hotel. It is huge but has a very.. strange appearance, also it’s located on the side of the town isolated from everything else— that’s one of the weirdest things ever! You can feel your heart raising as you being walking up to the hotel, one step after another. 

When you are stood at the door you take some deep breaths, come on! You have got this [Name]! You hesitantly reach your hand out to the handle before gently opening the door.

⋇⊶⊰ E N D  ⊱⊷⋇

Sheesh, this was a long one! The author apologizes for the delay on the chapter and would like to say that he will publish chapters around every 2 weeks! He tries his best and nitpicks a lot on his story wich can delay the writing! He would also like me to inform that there’s now a tag list, so if you are interested please go ahead and tell us in the comments!

That’s all I’ve got to say for now, so i hope everyone enjoyed this story-telling session and i hope to see everyone back for more next time! Bye-bye now!

(Thanks everyone for the support on the recent 2 parts of this series, it makes me so happy to see people enjoy reading it and the reblogs has brought big smiles to my face! Thank you everybody sm<3)

~ Tags for reach ~

[wilcze-kudly]

If worked for the team who made Avatar TloK. How would you rewrite TloK?

To be completely honest, rewriting tlok wouldn't fix all it's issues. Tlok just needed to have longer seasons, an actually established amount of seasons so they weren't pressured to make every single season a complete story for fear of not getting more time.

But let's say, hypothetically that I murdered mr Crabs or whoever is in charge of Nickelodeon and removed any studio meddling from the show.

My perfect world would include:

More filler episodes that focus on a singular character. Think Sokka's Master or the Painted Lady. The Krew are all fascinating characters with a lot of potential, however, due to the runtime of the show, their storylines are rushed... or completely nonexistent. Give me more details of Mako and Bolin's childhood. Show me emore of Asami struggling with her father's arrest.

I'd try to cut down on the westernisation of the show. I can see why these foreign aspects slipped in, since the closer the Avatarverse inches to our modern times, the more blurred the lines become. At least to my whiteass. I'd try to lean towards silkpunk, rather than the much more west based steampunk. It would be a fascinating endeavour to imagine what a world with mostly eastern influences would look like.

I'd make Vaatu the overarching villain/final boss of the story... it would require a bit of moving around of the timeline but I think I'd structure it as: Red Lotus> Kuvira> Amon> Vaatu. However I'd blur the timeline more. Make Amon a background threat in the eariler seasons, only for him to rise in popularity and power after people see what benders like Kuvira are capable of, for example.

This would also allow for certain villains to become redeemed or at least helpful in some way, later on. Mayhaps Amon and Kuvira team with the Krew to defeat Vaatu in some way.

Also, instead of destroying Vaatu completely, I'm leaning towards Korra absorbing him, in a way. Yes Vaatu is a dark spirit, but 'darker' urges are necessary for humans' survival and happiness. Korra embodies the duality of man very well. I think it would be a fascinating idea to see the Avatar become the embodiment of both light and darkness.

In general, making Vaatu and Raava more morally ambiguous, rather than the simple good spirit/bad spirit thing they had in the og show would be a fascinating concept.

I'd do my best to pull away from the show's original centerist narrative. Have Korra learn from the villains and make active changes to the world, showing her growth as an Avatar and person. Perhaps she's reluctant to see the Red Lotus' point of view at the beginning of the show, but sympathises with Amon at the tail end of the story.

Make the entire Krew queer. And talk about queerness more, in general. Have the characters have open conversations about queerness in their respective enviornments and cultures. Tlok already has a very queer undertone to it, even before korrasami became canon, but touching on this subject more overtly would provide great opportunity for characterisation and worldbuilding.

Have the story span several years. Watch the Krew grow up. Tlok works very well as a coming of age story even in its original form. Have Vaatu and his darkness and chaos symbolise the uncharted waters of maturity at the end of teenagedom. This especially works if Korra merges or accepts him like i suggested.

There... that's some basics. I think that most of my criticisms of the show could mostly be solved if the studio wasn't being a bitch but well. We can't have nice things, can we?

I took a while to answer this ask because it was genuinely such an interesting, but overwhelming question.

Also now I have wayy too many ideas about a potential tlok rewrite, so feel free to ask me about that if you want to hear me ramble.

[stackslip]

CAN YOU ELABORATE ON TLT BEING A HOMESTUCK FANFIC‽‽‽‽‽

i'm exaggerating a bit, but taz muir was a well known homestuck writer who wrote under the username urbanAnchorite. her fic the serendipity gospels is one of my fave fics ever, but was never finished and it's only by book 2 of tlt that i figured that the clear allusions to it in book 1 weren't just cute little nods but that she'd expanded on some of the ideas/concepts and worldbuilding of the serendipity gospels. to name a few:

the ninth house cult is heavily based on the juggalo church muir wrote/expanded upon in TSG, from face paint to the rituals and a lot of the accompanying prose

act 2 of TSG takes place mainly in a spaceship that serves as "cathedral" of the juggalo cult, and is described to be covered in bones that have been painted in many colors--which is close to the description of the mithraeum

act 2 also features the two main characters being much younger people mentored/manipulated into horrible acts by an old man who is thousands of years old and bickering with his other thousand year old friends/enemies, who seem to share knowledge and understanding that neither the two protagonists do but also deeply resent one another. hard to not read a parallel to john and the lyctors here!

to elaborate on this bc i just realized it: it is heavily implied in TSG that the dancestors (older people thousands of years old) went through a universe reset and built the empire in the image of their own trauma and anger, which would v much parallel what happens to john on earth and how he "reset" humanity

less of a homestuck thing and more of a taz muir thing: said old man is v much grooming the main female character and making her life miserable during the entirety of act 2

a lot of the story takes place in the background of the trolls' empire being a horrific imperialist force that the main characters were originally very excited to join and become a part of, with one of these characters in particular daydreaming about becoming ground troop for invasion while also holding a terrible secret that would have precluded him of doing so anyway. p neat parallel to gideon's own thing here

act 1 and act 2 of TSG are from two different pov characters, with a drastic shift in prose style and understanding of the situation/world when the pov shifts. which v much echoes how tlt has worked so far. part 3 was barely started before it went on hiatus, but it followed the same pattern.

speaking of, the prose of act 2 of TSG definitely feels very close to harrow the ninth's prose. you can just open the fic and check the first chapter of act 2 and how it's written, and you'll see what i mean. there are differences--the prose of TSG act 2 is more inflected with southern usamerican evangelical speak, i think? i'm not american so i can't quite 200% tell

there is an external armed resistance to the empire's violent imperialism and resistance that was supposed to be the focus in act 3 of TSG, which never happened. nona the ninth did, though, and it follows that structure.

there are also eldritch horrors that threaten the entire universe--homestuck's own horrorterrors--that are in the background of TSG and implied to be an important part of the future plot that we never saw. tlt has the ressurrection beasts

taz muir's worldbuilding around the blood castes in og homestuck that she elaborates on in TSG also somewhat parallels the way the houses function in tlt

iirc there's also worldbuilding around space travel in tlt (such as the obelisks? i think that's the name? and the use of necromancy to power them) that parallels taz muir's own take on how space travel works in the troll empire, using psionics and draining them dry in a similar way

i think the necro-cav relationship 'ideal' is based around how taz also interpreted moirallegiance in not just TSG but all her homestuck fics, down to how its legal implementation and the idealization of it vs its role in troll/houses imperialism and the reality of blurred lines in "expected" relationships. i'd love to hear taz's discourse on troll romance

i also think the necro-cav relationship parallels the other legal pairing explored in TSG--legislacerator and subjugglator.

there are probably more parallels i am missing--i need to reread TSG soon, as i haven't in a while. there are elements i'd say are more like, how taz herself elaborated on the bones of the worldbuilding of homestuck and then made it her own thing, which is rad as hell. other elements are more fun nods, such as gideon's aviator glasses being shamelessly stolen from dave homestuck, and a lot of gtn's prose feeling very homestuckey. it's def not like, just a little rewrite and boom, you get the locked tomb! imo it's more elements of plot and worldbuilding that were interesting enough to develop into something of its own and that taz made into something new, along with other elements of other stories (such as lolita and umineko) being woven into it. part of why i enjoy tlt so much is its "collage" aspect, taking elements taz thought interesting in other stories, or using these elements to purposefully evoke specific feelings/moods to construct or obsfucate certain ideas.

[mysteryanimator]

ANIMATION BREAKDOWN PROCESS OF THIS LETS GO (Sorry for any grammatical errors!)

SCRIPT/STORYBOARD: (you can watch here)

Now THIS. The script was very weak because I wanted to board immediately, so it started strong then fell off at the end (also generally I'm not a stronger writer, which haha fics my beloved). Now I know this, spending more time simmering with the script will genuinely only 1) stronger compositions for storyboards 2) it will be so much faster to board. Like I can board fast, but I can board fast AND well if I sit with the idea a bit longer. This will be a massive running theme how I like my shots earlier rather than further in.

side note I LIKE PANEL 11 A LOT, I just feeI didn't translate it well enough into animation which sucks because its a pretty panel and you get a softer moment from Olrox which I found was important to get across.

Also at some point, the 180 rule (which keeps characters on like one line behind the camera... not sure if I worded that right) gets broken and it bugged me for AGES but decided I had to just move on LOL.

These are my thumbnails b4 I go to animatic/cleaned storyboards which are SO MESSY (I'm a lot better at annotating my thumbs now LOL). The original prompt was top service blood bag x powerbottom vampire and i don't think i portrayed that well enough throughout BUT i think the intro did a good establishment. Which fun fact, this was scrapped but there was actually 20 seconds of Mizrak eyeing Olrox "What is it like? Blood?" Then Olrox leans down and commences the thigh glide.

These backgrounds are a mix of texture-bashing (walls/floors) along with some good ol' painting materials from scratch. Also, these are olddd and I can do a lot better yay, but was a good test to see how to make a consistent-ish scene.

ANIMATION: (You can watch the rough anim here)

I'll be super upfront how I don't like most of it AHHA. From starting this in July to posting this in September, I've improved a lot since then.

Since this was a bit ago, I don't remember too much but I remember going ham onto learning material from Dong Chang and animation servers. However in all honesty I think this was only really applied to the earlier shots. I got super frustrated with my "slow speed" so I tried to jump ship and do cleans super early on, which like lets be honest- pumping out two rough anims a day with uni on top is not slow idk what I was on about. This ended up giving me MORE work during the line/colour stage PFFT because I would end up correcting my mistakes in my roughs. Like Myst stop, this is for fun and you're learning, please take it easy LOLOL.

COMPOSITING:

Working on compositing this time around was slightly different, and I'll also admit it is not my favorite composite I've done (and again, I like my earlier shots then my later shots). My after-effects layers looked insane keeping track of the highlight glows on their clothes BUT it definitely paid off. Skin tones however were SO DIFFICULT (mostly in part to the fact I decided to experiment with how I approached it, so it definitely skewed how I worked with this)

I also definitely struggled between the dreamy look and keeping it clean and crisp, and while the dreamy blurred aesthetic does work in some cases, I opted out for the sake of clarity.

Beloved edge light my friend. It's making me learn SUPER late into it how I probably should have planned out a third shadow pass since edge light at the point is a crutch and I think planning it out ahead would get nicer more precise shadows LOL.

Because I brain rotted so hard for this animation I actually commissioned two people to help me work on this! I'll briefly talk about their stuff but please check out their work!

MUSIC: Astralbardkeep

Due the fact I don't have voiceactors, and I had a very specific vision in mind, I decided to go "you know what, let me be super self-indulgent". I had a lot of notes and inspirations for the music, BUT i wanted to have Olrox's theme from the original games peek through, which you will notice happens at the bite AND at the end.

TITLE CARD: Hataui0

This might've seemed overkill, but this friend of mine is very talented at making graphics/typography to suit the requirements of each individual project. (Also a secret ploy to make him make nocturne fanart /lh). So that entire end bit, he illustrated it along with that title, in which the themes I bestowed him were Mucha and Gothic art.

Thank you for reading if you got this far! Suffice to say this was supposed to be a compare and contrast between the animation I did in February, and while I may not quite find this body of work up to my normal standards, it substantial amount of improvement, which is the most important thing here! With the ten billion other things in my life going on, I can only be happy with the progress thus far :D

February on the left/September on the right

[tartrat]

Proving to myself that i can do digital art (Ft. Kapyy, again)

I'm posting this on tumblr first so if you see this pop on twitter that would be me reposting there. Wanted to practice art properly and take my time with it after finishing my a levels. Kapyy will forever be my test subject. also more general thoughts below the art

I started this whilst i was in Greece on a family holiday. I used myself as the pose reference and used a custom water colour brush i made and the turpentine brush to blend on procreate. I finished this on the flight back home from Greece with my mum sitting next to me and she thinks that he looks like me. All i can say on that is that i am a tall ginger guy and that's sorta where the similarities end. I think that the lighting looks awkward on the clothes. I couldn't think of what to have him sit on so he's sort of floating in the void. Background was made by just blurring the colours, making a new black layer and erasing with the procreate nebula brush

I actually really like how this one came out. The speed paint is 10 minutes long though.

I'm not too sure why i made him sad. I sorta headcanon that he bottles up a lot of things and masks his true emotions. This headcanon basically implies that he is putting up an act in I'm good (Blue) - Extreme Version. In this headcanon i think that he would eventually find peace so there would be a happy ending.

I've been thinking about him a lot recently. You can sort of create stories for the coaches that can contradict what's shown in game. Like when i was trying to sleep the other night i was like, what if Kapyy is the twin brother of Talia Sway and he was kidnapped at birth, and the giddy on up coach is their mother. Doesn't make sense but its fun to think about how they would interact. Also if i was in charge, everything has changed could work for a map for this headcanon but make it about family (this would also imply kapyy is ed sheeran so don't think about that). Talia is the next coach i want to do art of and i will probably be basing it off of better than revenge.

Also heres the quick sketch (Thumbnail sketch?) i did to get what i wanted this piece to look like. You can also see the water colour brush i made when it isn't blended by the turpentine brush.

I'm sorry if i typed a lot.

[cjgladback]

So this blocking thing! It's good for more than just nuisances. I haven't knit a lot of garments yet with fiber that responds to blocking, and what I have has been like...socks where it seems unnecessary because the whole thing will be in tension while worn. But also I just don't have large pinnable surfaces, as one typically needs when the point is to soak a piece of fabric and then stretch it out to pose in the shape you want it to be until next soaking. What do I have? The ability to stack waterproof objects on a small patch of flat counter space. And thank goodness because that definitely saved this hat.

Anyway! I am happy to have used my extremely inconsistent first skeins of support-spindled yarn (see the post with them all laid out here) for a project I'll probably actually use once it's chilly again. It is comfortable, even if I'm a bit disappointed in the colorwork legibility. This is how the chart looks:

But I didn't quite manage matching gauge yarns, I'm low on practice/experience keeping tension for stranded colorwork, and probably just aiming for too loose a fabric anyway (should've found a path to increasing stitches and using smaller needles on that section) so it's very blobby.

I do have some of that green and "matching" oyster skein left, as well as a little of the finest oyster yarn I used for the ribbing. So if I use them together again, I'll probably hold the two oyster threads as one. Speaking of, I had way too much of the underplied lace yarn and wasn't happy with my first run at an even more open lace panel, so ended up frogging that back and making these sections with the lace yarn held double. Worth it! Much happier with this result. And I can see why underplied yarn has been said to do lace well; was cool how open it already was before blocking.

Image descriptions below:

[ID: Four photos of a slouchy, off-white beanie with some green colorwork being knit, blocked, and worn. The hat is constructed with a solid top of thicker yarn, strip of lace, a strip of green colorwork (meant to be jumping frogs), a matching strip of lace, and finally a long section of ribbing, broken into four strips by inverting the knits and purls.

In the first photo, with a blurred background, the beanie is still in process with a green string holding the live stitches while it's tried on, partway through the first section of ribbed brim; it fits like a misshapen mushroom, the top lace panel collapsing over the relatively tight colorwork, all under the lumpy increases of the densely knit crown.

The second photo also has a blurred background but shows the hat being blocked, gently stretched over a tower of stacked containers, widest at the top around the curved base of an upside down plastic coffee canister from crown to colorwork, the gradual taper of a hair bleach tub easing the lower lace panel into the ribbing before the very end hangs free around a peanut butter jar pedestal.

The third and fourth photos show the finished hat from the side and front, being worn by a pale-skinned brunette woman with a braid and orange t-shirt in front of painted wood paneling on an overcast day. The hat is slouched but not bulbous, blocking having stretched the colorwork horizontally and the lace vertically; a twice-rolled brim covers the lower lace panel but leaves the still not very legible frog colorwork visible. End ID]

[ID: Chart of green on white colorwork made in the Google Sheets spreadsheet software; a section in the middle is selected, though there are repeated motifs on either side. Every cell with an X in it is colored green and makes slightly horizontally stretched pixel art of a frog hopping from the right to the left; the rightmost frog is crouched under a flower or star made of four dots, to its left is a frog pushing off the ground and to its left a frog leaping horizontally through the air. The repeat is 39 stitches wide, 10 rows tall. End ID]

[raynavan]

heavy spoilers for chapter 23 of Always by your side by @ingo-ingoing-ingone!! this chapter was so fantastic i. didnt have words for it. ended up doing 6 (nearly 7) drawings for it instead. i think this is my record- it took me roughly 7 hours. a fair warning! this is both art and a comment to the fic in one. so its rather long!

ok i had an Unreasonable amount of fun doing the background on this one. ended up looking up a lot of the celestial bodies mentioned in the fic, man are they cool! it was implied that Emmet didn't really have a body so! stars instead. the colors were fun- i dont often let myself just. color like this haha! this one was... reall amazing. a fantastic opener! i immediately latched onto the visuals and painted a picture in my mind. it was just so... astronomical?

i actually struggled with how i was going to position these two for a while. at first it was just them coloring in a clearing- then i made them watching pokemon, and then. this! idk- there just something sweet in how Ingo turns around to look at Emmet and... lighting was funky for this one- how a forest shades the things beneath it will always hold a special place in my heart. these two interacting is always so wonderful to read. the gentle ribbing and teasing and... just them chilling and talking was so nice. the fact that it was dragons was even better! dragons are the best. i felt a very sweet and gentle moment needed an equally sweet and gentle drawing. if i could, i might have gone for line less on Ingo and Emmet here as well.

right- this was the last one i did. i think its the only one that i didn't get specifically from what was written. i just... wanted to give Emmet cuddles alright? /lh i had another sketch exploring exactly what Emmet might look, but i think ill revisit that when i... haven't been drawing for 7 hours straight hgfireohgope. the one in this is more simplified. the horror of having your face show one emotion- not even the one your most known for... your voice is toneless and the only was you can show even a fraction of what you feel is by copying what you (supposedly) dead brother used to do. there is a quiet horror in that- and yet Emmet still goes on. he cant feel texture and yet... he deserves many nice things.

this one!!! was originally going to be an Entire piece with a more "realistic" drawing of Ingo sitting behind a fire just like this. when i sketched this out (in the middle of reading it) that was the plan. Jedi saved me by making Emmet draw it like this. you saved me probably an hour ghirepoghpeirh. i... still might draw it how i wanted at some point. also the lighting was added last minute! i thought it would look... more messy with the light of the fire shining on it. i think it looks nice. the scene was sweet and, like Emmet mentioned he did, i put emphasis (or uh... thicker more defined lines) around peoples faces to better define their happiness. it made me happy to read them being happy and then draw them being happy <3

them!!!!!! i do not think it is a secret at All how much i love this au. i was More than happy to draw them again. and!!! being happy!!! perfect. i remembered this was a dream, and decided to blur the background quite a bit of this one- lopsided like its not really being thought about. adored this one. them!! teasing each other!! just!! going through a day!! perfect. amazing. it was really fun the way the small details of their routine was captured. from Ingo just. turning to goop so he doesn't have to pick up his clothes to Emmet just. accepting everything that happened from the mental connection to the shared feelings.

DRAMATIC FORESHORTENING!!!! i almost wanted to play it up More but then i might lose Ingo's expression. the background for this was fun to do- emphasis! strong colors!! looks like something broke. like something was torn away. this whole bit is just. exactly what Emmet fears and its just. ough. Ingo would never do this- we know this, Emmet knows this two- he knows how ridiculous Ingo was being here. and then the climax with Emmet just... falling off... amazing. Ingo's horrified expression is what caught my attention here, though i had a few more ideas depicting Ingo leaning over Emmet. i figured a dramatic drawing here would fit.

so! there ya go. i had. so much fun doing this and! thank you so much for writing this and sharing with us Jedi. if you keep this up, ill just have to keep making more drawings!! i don't think words are enough- not even sure if these can properly express how i felt reading it all (i actual had to get up and pace around bc i got so excited) but! i think that your art inspired my own art is a very beautiful thing.

lets all keep making art with one another forever.

[souglias]

TWILIGHT - [Kaveh]

Both you and Kaveh work on your respective creative projects into the night. However, things don't go as smoothly as both of you wish.

Kaveh x gn!reader. Fluff.

Word count: 2.9k

c/w: alcohol consumption (on Kaveh's part), may be slightly self-indulgent

note: inspired by with my hand in yours (Kaveh's part) by @monocaelia , please go support her!!! Also, thank you sm to @dinoshimaaa for the beta mwah mwah

Dusk, Dawn, Twilight Masterlist

--

TWILIGHT in the wee hours speaks of a magical liminality that many miss. You are awake even before then, but you do not get to enjoy the serenity that such a quiet hour is supposed to bring. Instead, you are hunched over your easel with your final art assignment. It’s three in the morning, and the assignment is due at noon. You’ve barely slept the night before. Your third cup of coffee for the night is placed on the table beside you. An incomplete painting sits haphazardly on an easel by the table. Various paintbrushes sprawl all over the table. 

On the other side of the table, Kaveh pores over his architecture project, due for discussion with the client at the same hour as yours. His writing materials and tools are dumped atop one another on his side of the table. Instead of a cup of coffee on the table, he has a small cup of alcohol on the empty stool beside him. 

You tell him that it is counterproductive to drink alcohol for all-nighters because it makes him sleepy, especially since he’s a lightweight. But he protests that a small cup helps keep him loose. You don’t try to refute that, knowing that some classmates of yours do that.

Upbeat music plays in the background. Absent-mindedly, you tap your foot according to its beat. You wish you could turn the volume up higher. The higher the volume, the more sane it’ll keep you. However, that would lead to angry neighbours and you have no time to deal with such trouble.

As for Kaveh, he pays no mind to the music. His eyes are kept trained on his workspace, not even minding the beetle that crawls past his wine cup. His hands move as if they have minds of their own, moving his feathered pen gracefully. 

You’re kind of envious of him.

Kaveh knows what he’s doing. He knows what he wants. All the steps are already laid out in his head and they only need to be materialised on paper. You think he’s just a little careless, failing to set aside sufficient time to work on his project at a comfortable pace. 

With his eyebrows furrowed, he reaches out to his wine cup and takes a gulp. You’re pretty sure his cup isn’t gonna last the night and he’s going to head to the kitchen for a refill. It’s going to become multiple ‘small cups’. But seeing how focused he is, you don’t wish to break his concentration with any brief teasing.

The world around Kaveh is blurred out, his focus only zeroes in on the project in front of him. He stays this way for a long time until you let out an exasperated shout. Thank the Archons that both of you decided against working in Al Haitham’s home. 

His home would have been ideal with its proximity to the Akademiya. However, Al Haitham would go ballistic with the music. The last straw would probably be one of your (or possibly even Kaveh’s) eventual exasperated yells. 

Your head abruptly turns and you find Kaveh looking at you. “Oh shit, I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

Kaveh shakes his head and smiles instead. “Hit a roadblock? You can talk to me about it.”

“You sure?”

Kaveh nods. “I’d listen to you any day.”

Your eyes dart around your workspace, unsure where to start, as you turn your body towards him. After mulling over the question for a while, you start, “First off, my references don’t seem to be working very well? I took photographs for my references, but I only realised not long ago that the angles are all off. So I don’t know if this-” you pause to gesture at your painting, “is accurate.”

“Then, we have the issue of the paint. I can’t seem to get the colour I want! I spend so much time mixing the paint. If I could figure out the portion of colours I need to mix right off the bat, I could have saved so much time. Archons, I don’t know if I can finish.”

After throwing a glance at your painting, you start swearing. “Archons, what the fuck is this? What the fuck am I doing?”

Kaveh scrutinises your painting. Some parts of the canvas have been covered with paint while the parts unpainted only have draft lines. However, he still manages to discern two people near a window. One in the house with their back facing the viewer, the other on the other side of the window. Outside the window, the subject situated there has his body facing the one inside. However, Kaveh notices that his body is slightly turned away as if the subject is going away eventually. He guesses that a beautiful sea of stars expands out behind them, but there is still a large focus on the two people looking at each other. 

“Want to share what your assignment is about? Talking about it might help.”

You start fiddling with your paintbrush. 

“Our assignment was to create a painting and use it to convey a message to someone. It could be any message to anyone. Some wanted to make paintings to tell the upper echelons of the Akademiya about how insane the workload was. A few others wanted to advocate to just about everyone about our ever-warming climate…”

Your voice trails off and your eyes dart away from Kaveh. He raises an eyebrow at you and asks. “So, what’s the message you want to send and who are you sending it to?”

“It’s about the distance between… someone and I.”

Kaveh slightly leans towards you without realising. “Who might that be…?”

When you make eye contact with him again, you catch the intensity in his gaze and try not to flinch in your stool. The air becomes slightly charged and you hurriedly scoff to dissipate the tension, “Well, that’s not for you to know.”

You stick your tongue out at him and you turn away from him to face your canvas again. 

The urge to ask you who in the world this person consumes Kaveh. Who is it that has troubled you so much, that you have to make a painting for them to express yourself? 

He plays with the thought of this person being him. It feels slightly dangerous as if he’s walking a tightrope. Even this mere thought feels forbidden.

However, Kaveh cannot seem to disregard the little things that occurred between the two of you. The times both of you shared a drink with the same cup. The moments of accidental grazes of his skin on yours that cause him to flinch. The way you always listened to him talk about his designs, even if there were things you were not too familiar with. Kaveh cannot forget how his heart soars whenever you praise his design. 

On top of that, you always pick him up from the Tavern whenever he is too drunk to go home by himself. Without fail or complaint, you always come if Lambad sends someone looking for you.

Though, Kaveh would say that the two of you have been long-time good friends. There are some things that no longer matter when the two of you have been such good friends. 

Watching your back, he suppresses his desire to know. Kaveh isn’t ready to hear the name of the person you’ve been looking at. If he does, he thinks he’ll lose all the rights to relish the moments solely between the two of you. And what if he ruins the friendship between the two of you?

Kaveh takes a deep breath. He reaches out for his cup to take a sip of wine, but he realises that he’s empty. After making a quick refill, he dives back into his project. 

He’s not sure how much time has passed before he hears a sudden thud from your side. You’re standing up in front of your canvas with your stool toppled over behind you. Without turning to him, you say, “I’m going out.”

Kaveh’s grip on his pen loosens. He glances at your unfinished painting. In that one glance, he sees that you’ve added details, but he can tell it’s not done yet. Then, he checks the time. A little over 5.30 am. You’re already halfway out of the door. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll just be outside. I… need a breather.”

Kaveh watches you close the door without waiting for his reply. It is pretty normal for designers and artists like both of you to get overwhelmed. Space is a common need for creative minds. Perhaps that is all that you need, so he should let you be. However, Kaveh doesn’t feel at ease leaving you alone. It takes a few moments for Kaveh to navigate through his dilemma for him to decide to follow you.

When Kaveh finds you sitting on the porch, he heaves a silent sigh of relief. You’re gazing up at the navy blue sky. His eyes follow your gaze and he makes out a few blinking stars. 

Kaveh sits down beside you, not uttering a word. There’s only the sound of animals in the distant forest in the space between both of you until you break the silence.

“You know, I’ve never understood why people cry when they see art they admire so much. Maybe everyone has their reasons, but I think I finally found mine. Some of my classmates were sharing their mostly completed artworks. One of theirs made me want to cry.”

Kaveh keeps his eyes on you, noticing your lip quivering. You turn away from him when you continue speaking.

“It was so beautiful. So beautiful and I found myself fighting against tears. That artwork encapsulated everything I wanted to make. How? How does he make it so mesmerising? And why… Why can’t I do that? Why do I always have to come to despise my own work?”

Such feelings were not foreign to Kaveh. As a fellow creative, he knew you would feel this inevitable pain. Yet it makes his heart throb when he sees you doubt yourself.

“[name], look at me.”

You don’t move, keeping your body turned away from him. Oh, how you vex him.

Kaveh cups your cheeks with both his hands and he gently turns your head towards him. He watches a few tears roll down your cheeks and this sight claws at his chest.

“[name], I haven’t seen any of your friends’ works and I know you won’t believe me if I say your work is good. But from the bottom of my heart, the idea of making your painting a message for your… certain someone is wonderfully romantic.”

His voice becomes louder. His hands have started squishing your cheeks, yet his touch remains tender. “In the end, even if you feel like your painting hasn’t gone the way you wanted it to, I know your feelings will reach them. Sometimes my designs don’t turn out the ideal way I want them, but that’s okay. We’ll always nitpick on our work because we care about our craft. Your ideas are already amazing, so even if you hate the final product, take this as a step towards making better art.”

He inhales, not registering what he’s about to say. “And I like you! I don’t just like anyone out there, they should be artistic and creative! They should be brave to try new things too. So, you’re creative and artistic! And yes, you are brave to try new things too. You’ve never seriously dabbled in the arts before, and this is the first time the Akademiya is running classes for art. Enrolling into the Akademiya again for art is a huge leap of faith you’re taking!”

At this point, Kaveh’s ruby eyes are shining against the now violet sky. You see the stars you were looking at earlier in his eyes. “You’re not just anyone. You’re [name], the person I like! Do you understand?”

Kaveh watches as your face slowly turns red. You recall the countless moments he’s helped you to tide through your art assignments. The times the both of you spent together as a result of these art assignments and his client work. Of course, you caught feelings for him at some point, but you always thought you’d have to give him up someday and learn to cope on your own. The thought of having to go on without him haunts you like a ghost for countless days. Its presence looms heavily behind you on the long nights you have to finish your work alone. 

But with his slender and soft hands that hold your face, it’s as if he’s protectively encapsulating your weary soul within those two hands. The grasp of this presence on you loosens. Leaning into his touch, you mumble, “Kaveh, what will I do without you?”

When he notices you tear up again, the first thing he thinks is that he might have said something wrong. He tries to recall what he said, navigating through his hazy mind. When he realises that he’s confessed to you, all the lethargy leaves his body and more heat rushes into his face. He also becomes hyper-aware of the distance between your faces and his hands on your cheeks. 

Apologies come tumbling off his lips as he pulls himself back, “Oh no Archons, [name]. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to say that while you’re in a stressful-”

Kaveh notices the ink smudges he left on your cheek and more apologies come your way. “The smudges on your cheek! Oh shit, I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s alright,” a tender smile plays on your lips and a giggle escapes your lips, despite a tear that falls from your eyes. Your heart flutters thinking about your next words for the flustered architect. You take a deep breath to calm your hammering heart.

You confess, “The painting is meant as a message for you. I’m sorry I couldn’t give it to you properly after it was completed.”

Kaveh’s jaw drops, your words replaying in his mind. 

“Me…?”

A chuckle, music to his ears, escapes from your lips, “Yes, you. Renowned architect, Light of the Kshahrewar, Kaveh.”

“Holy Archons, I-”

Kaveh clasps his hand over his mouth and abruptly turns away from you. He recalls your painting in its most recent state earlier. There was one minute detail that didn’t escape him. The person in the house had been reaching onto the windowsill. 

You have been trying to reach him all along, and you didn’t know if he’d leave for a faraway glorious place.

Kaveh feels a lump in his throat, but he suppresses it and he faces you again. “It’s- I’m honoured to be the recipient of your message. I hope that you’ll be happy with me- No, I will make you happy, [name]. I won’t leave you.”

You reach out and brush a stray tear on his cheek away. The dried acrylic paint on your fingers does not stain his cheek, but you selfishly wished it did. It would have been your mark on him. Just like how he has left his mark on you.

An idea hits you, and you rub your finger against the spots where Kaveh’s fingertips touched your cheek earlier. You find some ink on your fingertips and you smear them on his cheek.

Smiling at your work, you say, “And I will make you happy too, my muse.” 

A soft smile appears on Kaveh’s lips and you wish you could capture him in this moment with the coming sunrise behind him. However, realising what time it may be, you straighten the feather in his hair and suggest, “Okay… I think we should finish our work and we will talk more after.”

Heading back into the house, both of you press on to finish up your respective tasks till this twilight passes and after. It’s not until after you’ve submitted your work that you feel fatigue kick in. 

You meet Kaveh near the location where he’s meeting his client. The meeting goes smoothly and quickly, it’s not long before you find his hands intertwined with yours. The sunlight feels unbearably harsh after the restless nights, so the two of you can’t wait to head into your cool homes to rest.

However, an immeasurable pull between the two of you makes the thought of going home without each other unbearable. 

“Say, could I crash at your place instead, since it’s nearer…? Would Al Haitham mind?”

Kaveh could care less about Al Haitham. Plus, he thinks the both of you will awaken before Al Haitham returns. Hooking his arm around yours, he proclaims, “Of course! Who cares about Al Haitham?” 

Both of you head to his house and settle on the sofa. With a heart filled with love, you drift off to sleep and you dream. You have not dreamt for a long time, but now, you dream of a confession that both morning and night have witnessed.

(When Al Haitham returns, he finds the both of you asleep on the sofa. Your head rests on Kaveh’s shoulder and his head leans on yours. His hands rest protectively atop yours. Al Haitham lets out an inaudible chuckle, finding relief in no longer needing to listen to Kaveh complain about his hopeless situation with you.)

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