#and if my whole blog must be orange to match. then so be it

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝔾𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕖 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @superstar-ethereal request: REQUESTS ARE OPEN LETS GOOOOOO

anywayss can i perhaps have wxs with an orange cat-like reader? (or to give a clearer descriptor: orange cats are stereotypically perceived as being energetic, airheaded, very friendly to everyone they meet, etc etc.) it's fine if not though! :D

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ YAYAYAYAS I love cats hehehehe

I also added some more characteristic hope you don't mind ^^ Just my own little experience with those damn ginger bastards cats~

Anyway! Hope you like it!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

✧ there are times when Tsukasa has absolutely enough of your crazy ideas...

✧ in fact, he learned to yell "no" so loud your eardrums are ringing and you can't think straight anymore for next few seconds

"Hey what if I-"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!"

"I'm deaf I think..."

✧ he still loves you tho. He just can't believe one person can store so many crazy ideas...

✧ sometimes this boy still has hopes that whenever he sees you waking up from daydreaming, you'll say something sweet and not something that'll make him question your sanity

✧ if he ever sees his locker, shoes, clothes or anything messed up, he'll immidietly call you, knowing damn well who's guilty for that

"... Y/N!!! WE NEED TO TALK!! Where is my- of course you're wearing it... C'mon, it's uniform. I need it or else I'll get detention..."

✧ despite you causing troubles constantly, he'll still get you out of those by either giving rational arguments to teacher or annoying them untill they have enough and let you out. Whatever happens, he still thinks it was the first one

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @wholesaleboi @yulikesminori @alicewinterway18 @hakulivesformusic @sucodelaranja86 - come get your future star!

✧ you get along with Emu pretty well~ She's most likely about to agree to your idea as long as you interpret it as a fun game

✧ you can literally offer most random thing and as long as you say it's "part of the game" she'll be excited to join you!

"Omg YES!!! It sounds so fun!! I'll be sure to win! Hehe~ Game... ON!" RUUUUN!!!"

✧ you two usually take the consequences together... if you won't talk your way out, she most likely won't succeed either...

✧ despite her whole family telling her you're "bad influence for her" she still won't stop hanging out with you and getting into some fun troubles!

✧ she's very social as well so she won't mind jumping around random people just to ask them few questions or even randomly adopt someone into your friend group you may be creating

"Target found!"

"Oh? That introvert? Let's go~"

"HaHaHa! Let's make a good and loud impression! Ready? WONDERHOY!!!"

✧ your dynamic is certainly one to be cherished~ You're definitely matching quite well!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @hayillaaaaaaa @miguelito-maruti-blog @ravenmoon903 - come get your smiley girl!

✧ Nene sometimes wonders if she's more of a girlfriend or babysitter for you...

✧ whenever you wake up with sudden urge to cause chaos, she must be there to stop you before you ruin too many lives

"Don't do it! Leave the poor child alone!"

✧ she learned to just hold your hand so you wouldn't randomly run off without her noticing

✧ you also definitely made her socialize a bit more... since she usually comes with you on any hangouts just to make sure you'll come back home in one piece

✧ despite her trying to keep you away from troubles, she won't help you if you actually got yourself into ones... or so that's what she says...

✧ if you plead long enough, she may help you clean up but she's definitely NOT talking you out of consequences

"Nene!! Can you clean the floor at corridor for me?"

"Why?"

"I... ACCIDENTALLY spilled some chemicals..."

"You WHAT?!"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @bl4cktourmaline @ravenmoon903 - come get your shy gamer~

✧ Rui would absolutely love how bratty you are! It all just adds onto the playfulness and he's up for all of it!

✧ he loves how you're "all against world" and wouldn't mind honestly joining you

"Us against the world! Isn't that right, darling?"

✧ if you actually like to knock down things randomly tho, it's gonna make his heart jump MANY times tho...

✧ he keeps an eye on you all the time since he never knows what idea you may get the next second

✧ he also is biggest fan of your random ideas! Whenever he sees you drifting off, he stays quiet just waiting for you to wake up and tell him what you thought of

"... What if you we made jetpacks for penguins?"

"Fufu~ We can try~"

✧ you both are biggest troublemaker duo and kamiyama high definitely fears your next move...

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @yulikesminori @toyaswif3y @bl4cktourmaline @superstar-ethereal @stellas-starry-stories13 @alicewinterway18 @hakulivesformusic @sucodelaranja86 - come get your crazy inventor~

[tentacledwizard]

Tumblr User tentacledwizard Reviews: National Treasure

[absolutely INEXCUSABLE longpost ahead. Im sorry for being a Nick Cage fan. Not really, though. Also, SPOILERS for the first National Treasure movie.

    Hey, everyone, it’s your favorite reviewer t-wiz. Back at it again, posting like 5 days after seeing the actual movie. I know everyone must have been dying of anticipation. Well, so was I. We’re all in the same boat. And that boat is called the Charlotte, which is where the secret lies. That’s right: the movie was National Treasure. So I may get a little overexcited in this review.

Let me set the scene. @cgtg hosted another moviy nite on Friday. This time, the movie was Ghost Town starring Ricky Gervais. …Nobody really enjoyed it. I was only there for the last 20 minutes, and it sure wasn’t as fun as Employee of the Month. So I suggested National Treasure, starring the inimitable Nicolas Cage. The fact that I have a “nick cage” tag on my blog should probably tell you some things. I find his current status fascinating, as his thespian commitment is oft-regarded with snickering. He was fairly restrained in this movie, but still did a good job. I have a bit of a history with this movie. I first put it on as payback for having to see 50 First Dates, and was pleasantly surprised (by, among other things, Riley Poole). So I’m happy I got to see it again for like the third time in one month.

PLOT:

National Treasure is the kid-friendly saga of Benjamin “Ben” Franklin Gates (Nicolas Cage), whose family has been consistently wrapped up in a quest for a stash of treasure. This treasure is a big deal. Pharaohs longed for it. This whole group called the Knights Templar were big Treasure Stash stans. A secret society called the Freemasons are also closely involved. Turns out many of the founding fathers were also Freemasons (I’m pretty sure this is actually true). So of course Kid Ben learns this from his grandpa in a spooky attic, but his dad (Jon Voight) is all “heck nah son, treasure is NOT where it’s at.” And he has a point! The search for the “National Treasure” has clue after clue after clue, and it requires Cage to make some truly insane leaps in logic (especially in the sequel. Yes I have seen both films). But it is consistently entertaining. Don’t worry, I won’t go through the entire plot because that would just be a synopsis. 

Okay. So we’ve set up a MacGuffin (the treasure) and Grandpa Gates has given us a clue (“the secret lies with Charlotte”). Time to fast-forward to the frozen North, where Nick Cage’s adult face appears in all its shining glory. So does his hairline. I’m a bit concerned- shouldn’t his face be covered up better? It must be freezing. Oh well. A Bri’ish chap named Ian (Sean Bean = oddly pleasing name) and a former cubicle worker named Riley (Justin Bartha) are also members of the expedition. They unearth a ship called the Charlotte, and inside is a clue that leads to the Declaration of Independence. Ian offers to “borrow” the Declaration. Ben, being a historian, is all “heck nah Ian, stealing important documents is NOT where it’s at.” Ian is all “A fair point, however, consider the following: Gun.” We get some tasty blue and orange color contrasts, the stunning revelation that the Brit was NOT to be trusted, and a badass explosion. 

After this, shit gets real. Well, it was real from the start. It simply snowballs in realness throughout the movie. Benjamin and the non-evil expedition member, Riley, take this issue to the FBI, among others. The FBI will also get involved later on in the movie. Ben meets Abigail Chase (Diane Kruger), who is the love interest by way of being blonde and also knowing stuff about American history. Truly a match made in the National Archives. She tries not to laugh at their outrageous story. He patronizes her coin collection. They part ways, sure to meet again.

After failing to convince anyone the Declaration is in danger, Nick, I mean Ben, decides to steal it before Ian’s team can. Turns out stealing important documents is where it’s at.

Resident smartguy Riley tries and fails to talk Ben out of it.

Hey, it’s an important clue, and it has some serious historical value, and Ian has to pay for his perfidy. It’s nice to see/hear Ben and Riley when they’re not obscured by a haze of ice, because Riley is amazing. More at ten. Thus begins DECLARATIONTHEFT 2004, aka Awesome Heist Sequence. I love this scene. We get to see the early-2000’s CGI in all its glory. We get to see Riley and Ben do their thing. (Ben’s thing is history and secret clues. Riley’s is techy stuff.) Also the scene transitions? If I knew a thing about camerawork, I probably wouldn’t even mention this. But hey.

Then the actual theft happens, and it’s pretty neat. Nick must go from National Archives employee to nerdy guy at a gala to, well, Declaration thief. Meanwhile, the British have weapons and they’re not afraid to use them. Kudos to Riley for being the guy in the chair. Double kudos to Abigail for having to put up with the thieves. Triple kudos to the giftshop lady for taking Visa.

Wow, this got long! This is what I get for summarizing the first part of the movie instead of ACTUALLY REVIEWING. Okay, here goes.

REVIEW:

National Treasure, as I’ve said, is important to me. Sure, it seems pretty formulaic, but it’s fun. I got this inexplicable glee out of seeing Nick Cage work out each impossible clue. He is operating on a level we cannot understand. Every little plot-relevant thing about American history I could remember was like a major win for me.

This is an action movie, not a rom-com, so it’s certainly less character-driven than, say, Employee of the Month. The characters tend to be more developed stock characters, so it’s pretty hit-or-miss. For instance, Abigail and Ian are the mandatory Blond Love Interest and British Bad Guy. There’s not much to say about either. However, the Disapproving Parent, FBI Man, and Guy in the Chair were unexpectedly great. Especially that last one. 

There are plenty of great scenes: heists, dungeon crawling, tomb raiding, Nick Cage talking. The soundtrack is also good: they’ll have the usual action-adventure track and then give us a sudden drum lick like it’s no big deal. Okay, I admit that this is a very silly movie. And I am probably very silly for writing so much about it. But so what, it’s entertaining. Certainly not as homoerotic as Employee of the Month, but after all this is kid-friendly. As long as you don’t really tear into whether the “treasure” stuff is plausible, this is great to watch! 

Not only that, but Nicolas Cage was great to watch. His performance was oddly hypnotic, just as in every other movie he’s ever been in. My father was roasting his appearance for the entire movie, but I won’t get into that whole can of whales. On to the characters part.

CHARACTERS:

Benjamin Franklin Gates (Nicolas Cage). Ben Gates is a dedicated treasure hunter and historian. He supplies a considerable amount of the movie’s intense autism vibes (perhaps I am projecting, considering how much I vibe with this). However, I don’t like how condescending he acts towards Abigail. If I hadn’t seen the sequel, I’d probably still be annoyed by this. Like she’s unwillingly in your getaway van, show her a little courtesy and stop telling her to shut up. I wish he didn’t have so much casual misogyny. :| As I’ve said, Nick Cage was oddly mesmerizing as he did things like splonk off bridges and steal sacred American documents. I cannot think of him as “kinda cute actually” the way I did of Dane Cook, but that’s definitely for the best. Everyone thinks I have a celebrity crush on Cage. They don’t UNDERSTAND. 

Uh. Sorry, got off track. So Ben’s character kind of captures the crux of Cageness, in a way. Nobody understands how important this quest is to him, and he has to go by “Paul Brown” to avoid being a laughingstock. Do I see parallels with how Nick Cage changed his name from Coppola to Cage? I mean, they are there, but I’m probably looking into it too much. Side note, I enjoyed Ben’s one brief display of raw hopelessness. It’s the sort of thing you chuckle at when it’s taken out of context, but so are many of Cage’s big movie moments.

Not much else to say about his role in this movie? Nick Cage certainly does “adventure hero” well. His most “Cagey” moment in both movies is absolutely when he faked a drunk argument with Abigail and then screamed “HAGGIS” at a Buckingham Palace guard. But here I am getting ahead of myself. The entire moviy nite group was surely gazing at Nicolas Cage’s hairline and aquiline nose for the entirety of the film. We basked in the sound of his soft ‘s’s and ‘t’s. We tried to parse his historical theories. Truly, his mind contains galaxies. Ben/Nick Cage operates on a whole other level than what we would believe.

(aaa look at him ok im done now)

And with that said, let’s move on to the other man of the hour. That’s right, Riley Poole (Justin Bartha). Man, I love this guy. What can I say, I’m a sucker for sarcastic guys in chairs. Bonus points for nerd glasses. Riley gets all of the points. He is a gem. I’m pretty sure there was a whole article on Medium about his character, so maybe check that out if you are genuinely interested in this thing I’m typing here? 

So yeah, Riley is very much the guy in the chair. He provides comic relief, but is also a genius in his own right. Unlike Ben, he never seems to act self-righteous about this. Riley has this great mix of sarcasm and sincerity, and he’s a good foil to Ben/Abigail’s historical ramblings. Autism king tbh. I enjoyed his occasional infodumps.

Riley is also 10/10 in the sequel. We see more of his self-sacrificial side and low self-worth. He’s intelligent and funny, but in the end he just doesn’t see himself as that important. Except he is! He makes things happen! Without him, Ben would never have gotten the Declaration. 

And that’s what makes Riley compelling to me. Yes, he is a silly nerd from a silly 2000’s action movie. But you just kind of want to let him know that he deserves better from Ben and everyone who dismisses him. Probably by shaking his shoulders and yelling in his face, since I’m not sure how else one would get it across.

All in all, Riley is our king. And that’s not all there is to say on the matter, but I think I covered most of it. Riley should consume some jams and jellies. He’s earned it.

Dr. Abigail Chase (Diane Kruger): The holy trio of autism is complete? She fills in the “blonde love interest” void, but she does have interests and a personality of her own. Abigail is an archivist at the National Archives, so she’s probably the most qualified to handle the Declaration of Independence.

 I, on the other hand, am not qualified to talk about Abigail. I don’t remember much about her, other than the fact I just stated. She’s pretty smart and helps on Ben’s insane treasure quest. She… collects campaign buttons as a hobby? She has an alleged German accent? Yeah, so she’s not a bad character but I don’t have much to say about her. At least not in this movie. A shame. I am glad that she recognizes Ben’s sense of entitlement for what it is, and their relationship over the two movies is reasonably entertaining. Her sibling relationship with Riley is 10/10 as well. So that’s Abigail. We love to see ladies who understand what’s going on!

Ian Howe (Sean Bean): Ah yes, Mandatory British Bad Guy. Now, Ian is a treacherous piece of shit. He has many allies, and is just as obsessed with the treasure as Ben. But where Ben, Riley, and Abigail solve clues based on historical facts, Ian just keeps tags on them and then uses brute force to get what he wants. This is shown particularly well in the Declarationtheft scene- Ben and Riley have this whole heist planned out, whereas Ian’s guys are like “GUN.” As I’ve said, Ian is treacherous. He gets antsy at even the most temporary alliance. He seems to know Ben pretty well, as they played poker in the past. I imagine the movie would have been more yaoiful if they’d had more scenes together.

Patrick Gates (Jon Voight): The dad. Like Riley, he is a foil to Ben’s treasure hunting stuff. Like pretty much everyone, he is also very competent and knows what’s going on. I liked his father-son relationship with Ben, and the way both of them make dubious bluffs in times of crisis. I have some stuff to say about his relationship with his ex-wife in the sequel, but this is a review of the first movie. So anyways, Patrick sees the search for what it probably is: a goose chase. He keeps it real!

Agent Peter Sadusky (Harvey Keitel): Now this is another wise guy. Sadusky is an FBI agent who’s seen it all. He wants to get the Declaration back, and he knows someone has to go to jail for stealing it. And who stole the Declaration??

(Epic scenes ensue.) 

Dead Guy: A casualty. Yeah, he DIES. It is so sad. We hardly knew him. Oh wait, we didn’t know him at all. Ever. Welp.

Money-Driven Child: I have no idea where Riley found or hired this kid but he is hilarious. I don’t even know who plays him. Whoever his actor is, I hope he is doing well and avoiding nefarious Brits.

Cashier: She takes Visa. It makes a pretty funny scene. 

 And that’s a wrap on National Treasure. This film is a national treasure. Great camera work and scene transitions, great action scenes, and an all-around awesome (and very 2000’s) film. I eagerly anticipate the next moviy nite, as it may feature the actor for Jorge (EOTM.) If you made it this far, thank you for reading and I’ll see you approximately Friday. Long live Nicolas Cage.

[viofitz]

Hasbro Marvel Legends Custom: Rex Charger and Electro-Charger (Review)

Introduction:

Rex Charger is the alternative energy specialist of the team. Along with John Thunder, he's one of the two new Centurions featured on the episode "Firecracker". He is a playboy man of wealth, a millionaire who earned his reputation as the best Alternative Energy scientist of Iceland, while Electro-Charger is Rex Charger's basic Assault Weapon System (AWS). Its major feature is a missile-launching backpack that can fire a Nighthawk missile in any direction. Its also includes a photon laser blaster, two quantum thrusters. They're one of the unreleased toys from the second year of the Centurions toy line by Kenner but, it was featured in later episodes of the TV series. In this review, the toy is a custom from a random figure of Hasbro Marvel Legends toyline. Using Mr. Fantastic (Skrull wave) head sculpt (HS) and DeadPool X-Force body. The figure was customized by Ruby Farisyi so, this figure is not an official release. The boxart is merely a photoshop work, I used to do this in all of my Centurions reviews in my wordpress blog.

Contents:

Rex Charger comes with his main figure along with his basic AWS called Electro-Charger. It has backpack with missile launcher, nighthawk missile, photon laser blaster, 2 quantum thrusters and a helmet.

Rex Charger is depicted to be a American man with a fine and slight muscular body proportions. He dons red and pale green exoframe suit but, in this figure he was painted lemon yellow. His exoframe suit is capable to combine with 2 Assault Weapon Systems called Electro Charger and Gattling Guard. His body was originally from ML Deadpool X-Force version, Deadpool body appeared to be muscular just a typical fictional American super heroes. I've always not fond with this kind of body proportions... I'm just glad the custom exoframe suit hides those steroids....

His HS was originally came from Mr. Fantastic which was customized and repainted to have Rex's facial features such as classic mullet haircut, contented goatee beard and blue eyes. Comparing to the cartoon counterpart, Rex Charger has dark blonde colored hair while Ruby painted his hair into redhead but, other than that Mr. Fantastic HS actually quite spot on for Rex. Rex Charger's face is seemingly based from Chuck Norris back in 1980s.

Rex's helmet was also added with clear colored visor like my custom Jake Rockwell's Fire Force, the color Ruby did for the helmet follows the Kenner toyline color which the helmet appears to be dominantly light color while the red mostly on the trims. Coming from Kenner, this is a bit inconsistent because in the cartoon, his helmet is dominantly red.

His articulations works like ML and Lightning Collection (LC) figures but, due to his full armor exoframe epoclay material several articulations were limited. He got movable head. He can still stretch and bend his waist a little from his ab-crunch but, in his exoframe clay almost blocking the whole mobility. His elbow articulations are very limited due to his armoric exoframe suit. He got rotatable 360 degrees lower torso but, limited due to his rear lower armor. Leg articulations works the same and originally there’s cut on his lower leg but, it was completely blocked from his exoframe suit. Although, I'm also thankful Ruby made the exoframe suit hides most of the visible pins on his original deadpool body.

Electro-Charger consisted 5 parts that must be combined to Rex's body but, in total it has 7 parts including the helmet. Despite, the large backpack Rex can still stands well without the need of base display. Like the helmet, this AWS design as well as the color follows the Kenner toy line. In the cartoon counterpart, aside the helmet color Electro-Charger has it's own design and color such as his backpack is orange while his photon laser blasters 2 quantum thrusters are blue and also, Rex's gloves are red. Frankly, I prefer the Kenner toy line color better since it matches better to his exoframe suit.

I can also make my own combination (minus helmet) without Rex's body to recreate the offline mode like but, since the actual Kenner toyline remains unreleased; what's worse the offline mode was almost never seen in the cartoon so, no one really knows how Electro-Charger offline mode looks. However, in episode 55 (To Dare Dominion), there’s a scene where the Centurions AWS turned into somekind of robotic creatures due to the alternate reality that Doc Terror created, during this scene Rex's basic AWS is transformed into somekind of robotic anglerfish like.

Thoughts:

This custom is a perfect conversion compared to my 3 Centurions figures that I reviewed from my old blogs, Rex Charger came out to be perfect made and plays solid. Although, the paintapp is still one of the main problem which they still chipped in certain articulation demonstration but, it's much improved compared to the previous 3. Ruby really done his best on this, and you can check the trio reviews in here.

Thank youu for reading😁🙏🏻

[paluimbel]

I posted 117 times in 2022

That's 117 more posts than 2021!

20 posts created (17%)

97 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sophieinwonderland

@orange-orchard-system

@dhiibvulk

@psychuan

I tagged 35 of my posts in 2022

#plurality - 19 posts

#endo safe - 16 posts

#anti endos dni - 14 posts

#🐠 - 8 posts

#actually plural - 4 posts

#simplyplural - 3 posts

#hermitcraft - 3 posts

#osdd - 2 posts

#🗝 - 2 posts

#fictives - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#it’s not usually that awkward bc he (the introject) has next to no connection to his source and they (the friend) don’t know we’re a system

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Is there a term for not technically quite polyfragmented, but close enough that you share some experiences?

11 notes - Posted September 15, 2022

#4

ANTI-ENDOS DNI, feel free to block us if you don't like this post, we've heard all your arguments before and this is more of a personal vent than a syscourse discussion.

Recently I've been questioning whether or not we have osdd-1, and it's really frustrating because I want to be able to go into osdd spaces and ask questions, try to see if our experiences match up. But I can't do so without worry of getting fakeclaimed if we don't match up or getting made fun of for identifying as endogenic in the first place.

I know we're a system (even if some other members are in denial), and most advice i can find without specifically asking questions is geared towards figuring out if you're a system, not figuring out if you're an osdd system, and I'm afraid if we ask questions, we'll get more of the same, with people just telling us either we must have osdd (since low amnesia barriers rules out did) or we must not be a system.

We know there are inclusive osdd systems out there, we just don't know how to find inclusive osdd spaces.

11 notes - Posted July 17, 2022

#3

Plural!Rendog Headcanons

- The whole system, at least initially, collectively goes by Rendog or the Rendog System.

- Ren is the host and Renbob is the second most frequent fronter

- They're median and tend to have very low amnesia barriers

-They didn't know that they were a system when they first joined hermitcraft

-They have ADHD, and so most of them tended to chalk up what emotional amnesia they did experience to that (this part is largely me projecting)

-The Logfather only managed to mind control Ren, not the other system members, which ended up causing both Ren and Renbob a lot of confusion

-The Logfather couldn't take complete control of Ren either, mostly exerting passive influence unless there was some serious Logfellas business that needed to be taken care of

-They figured out they were a system right after the Logfather died and the Logfellas got arrested

-Basically, they're very much used to the sensation of having Someone Else There, so Ren (who was fronting at the time) was very confused by Xisuma talking about how much of relief it was to have the Logfather out of his head

-So he ends up asking X about it and doing some self reflection and Figuring Shit Out

-Well, actually, Renbob shows up in co con and Figures Shit Out

-For a fairly long time after that, X is the only one outside the system who Knows

-More to come as our binge watching of Ren's hermitcraft videos progresses!

(We're posting this in fandom tags because to a certain extent it is a fandom thing, but we recognize that that probably means some people who don't know anything about system stuff are gonna see this.

Hi! This post is about plurality, or the state of being more than one person in one body. It's mostly intended as a by-systems-for-systems sort of thing, but singlets (non-plural people) are also more than welcome to interact as long as you're respectful!

If you have any questions about plurality in general or the terms we use to describe it, our ask box should be open!)

12 notes - Posted June 19, 2022

#2

Considering coming out as a system to some online friends. Does anyone have any tips/advice/ideas on how to go about it?

14 notes - Posted July 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Saw this on r/systemscringe. Needless to say this is, at the very least, somewhat horrifying. Make sure to stay safe and be careful joining any new plural discord servers.

449 notes - Posted July 31, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[themarquesman]

Movie Posters. Are we looking at inspiration, iteration, or plagiarism?

My intention for this blog post was initially to explore typographic, colour, and composition trends by genre in movie poster design. I then wanted to cross-reference my findings with academic research on poster design from the University library to compare and contrast areas of alignment, and areas of difference.

The more I researched, the more I realized that the deeper story here is that there seems to me to be an unacceptable level of what appears to be completely deliberate design robbery happening in the world of movie poster design.

(A quick note on methodology - I have pulled inspiration from discussions on Reddit, posts on Twitter, as well as a range of websites from the sources listed at the end of this post. They all have different types of movie poster montages making different points. I would like to highlight that all the montages/collections of movie posters in this post have been sourced and put together by me by finding the individual posters one at a time, and then collating them into the various montages to ensure that they focus on the points I’m making. So, you’ll see similar montages in discussion forums, but none that are identical to mine. Where I have sourced a specific piece from Twitter, I have left the Twitter handles visible to show their source).

Back to the story…

We Graphic Designers are strange creatures. We’re constantly learning; constantly absorbing; constantly optimizing; testing which graphic variables work best in any given situation and carrying those learnings forward into the next project.

It’s inevitable that we get inspired by the world around us. Some of that process operates on a conscious, deliberate level. And some of how we get inspired happens on a subconscious level.

But what’s happening here has to be operating on a completely conscious, deliberate level.

This can’t be by chance…

It’s as if the one was taken into PhotoShop, and the other was meticulously built over the top of it to match it identically. Nor can this be by chance…

Look at how even the hues, color levels, and saturation curves are pretty much identical.

I wonder where this area of the industry is headed.

Liao, S., Arakawa, K. (2021) reiterates that the movie poster is a vital piece of the marketing puzzle. They say, ‘[The] Movie poster is the initial image of the film. People can intuitively predict the movie genre simply through the poster, and it plays an important role during the whole movie promotion period’. It’s the calling card of the project. It has to intrigue, hook and nudge towards a decision.

Liao, S., Arakawa, K. (2021) give us a look at potentially where this area of the graphic design industry is headed with with advent of Artificial intelligence. They explain, that the Artificial Intelligence StyleGAN (Style Generative Adversarial Network) is educated by being fed 10,000 executions of film key art. The AI randomizer then produces a range of designs for the human operator to choose from. Interactive Evolutionary Computation is then blended into the process to further refine the preferred options.

Below are 10 lessons that I believe we need to be briefing StyleGAN on…

1. Blue + Orange = Action!

Nothing says you’re in for 90 minutes of adrenaline like this ice-and-fire colour palette. Pairs strongly with serif, sans serif and decorative fonts alike.

2. Actually, Black & White + Flames = Action Too

Looking to ‘up the grit’ of your poster? Get into that Images Adjustment drop-down and pull the saturation out of that shot. Now, just add fire. And your poster is box office ready.

3. Add a 2nd layer to the visual story with reflections in glasses

This trick effortlessly crosses from one genre to another; from funny to scary and everywhere in between. Two pairs of glasses reflections feels like a lot for one poster, but sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do.

4. Legs In Foreground Must Always Be Slightly More Than Shoulder Width Apart, And must ALWAYS Be In High Heels.

As soon as you have legs in the foreground, you are instantly allowed to go more illustrative, and even cartoon-like with your typography. Though classic treatments work well too.

5. Nothing Says ‘Scary’ Quite Like A Giant Eye

There pretty much isn’t a single horror film out there that this wouldn’t work for.

6. Your Movie Is Set Near The Sea? Okay, You’re Gonna want a Silhouette in the Foreground, Coupled With Giant Ghost-like Heads Above The Horizon

Trust me. Works like a gem. It can stretch from drama into comedy; provided that the comedy is suitably soppy.

7. Romantic Comedy? Back-To-Back Has your Back

Extra points for cutouts on a white background. 8. Nothing Says “This Movie Is Intense” Like An Actor Who Doesn’t Even Need To Look Into The Camera To Make The Poster Work

Be sure to note, though – this ALWAYS has to be paired with dark, moody lighting.

9. Sunny Movie, Sunny Poster

Okay, Kill Bill isn’t exactly fun, but if you have a fun movie, you aren’t gonna go far wrong with a yellow poster and black graphics.

10. There’s Literally Only One Solution For Holiday Movies. This Is It!

Whatever you do, don’t mess with this formula. It’s a predominantly red and green color palette, with trimmings of gold – much like tinsel on a tree. Go for a two-font headline (one must be cursive or feel handwritten). Make sure the models are holding something – a snow globe, a candy cane, a little gift, a tree topper star, just SOMETHING. If they don’t have anything to hold, just get the couple to hold each other. That’ll work too. Oh! One last thing – it’s essential that the title has the word “Christmas” or “Holiday” in it.

With that, StyleGAN should be good to go!   All jokes aside, as Kadhim, A.(2021) says, the poster doesn’t have to tell the whole story. It just has to capture the essence of what the movie is about.

I will say, it’s a very hard-working design framework. I challenged myself to imagine that I had been set the brief to create the movie poster for ‘Sonic 2’. I looked at the various approach chapters outlined above to sketch some design thoughts against any that I thought would fit. Below are the results…

A) Back-To-Back Pose

B) Black & White X Orange Color Flames

C) Back Facing Camera

Sources:

Curtois, C (2019) Les affiches de Christophe Courtois https://afficheschristophecourtois.blogspot.com/

Liao, S., Arakawa, K. (2021) Interactive Poster Design System for Movies with StyleGAN. International Symposium on Intelligent Signal Processing and Communication Systems.

Kadhim, A.(2021) Science Fiction between Virtual Space Opera's Adventure and the Alienation of Future Cities in Movie Poster Design. Kufa University, Department of Art Education. Volume 20, No. 3: pp. 118-127

North, L., Tymulis, D. (2020) BoredPanda.com Twitter Thread Shows There’s 20 Types Of Movie Posters And Now We Can’t Unsee Them https://www.boredpanda.com/types-of-movie-posters/

@leesteffen on Twitter

@LudyChyntia on Twitter

North, L., Tymulis, D. (2020) BoredPanda.com Twitter Thread Shows There’s 20 Types Of Movie Posters And Now We Can’t Unsee Them https://www.boredpanda.com/types-of-movie-posters/

ScreenRant.com (2020) Movie Poster Trends that Need To Stop https://screenrant.com/movie-poster-trends-stop-more/

TheWrap.com (2022) Why Movie Posters All Look The Same https://www.thewrap.com/why-movie-posters-all-look-same-75846/

[morethanwonderful]

This may be a multifandom blog in theory, but yes, I absolutely did make my entire icon/header/mobile color scheme match my original morethanwonderful mxtx blog, because I am way too attached to that one russian tgcf piece (and I need everything else to be matchy).

[aomine-ryo]

Please do a scenario for the GOM reacting to their figure skater gf. Thank you 💜 I love your blog btw, its nice to see that the knb fandom is still alive. My heart is patiently waiting for a season 4 huhuhu 😭

Omg i will die if there’s ever a season 4. Also this was such a cute idea and I made Kise’s one so long and tbh it’s a concept for a wholeass fic lmao. Anyways, hope you like it xx

Scenario: GOM with a figure skater s/o

Kise

You and Kise had only been dating for a few weeks so there was still so much to learn about each other. Everyday there was something new that he learned about you that made him fall in love with you more and more. Even the smallest little things about you sparked his interest. Just the other day, he had a whole moment when he found out you liked the same cereal as he did.

Of course, him finding out you did figure skating elicited a bigger reaction from him than just liking the same cereal. It was just another Tuesday for you when your school day finally approached it’s end. Just you were heading out the school gates, you spotted your boyfriend standing and waving with a big smile on his face.

“Ryouta!” you squealed as you ran into his arms. “What are you doing here?” you questioned, not used to seeing him here since he was in a different school.

“I came to surprise my lovely girlfriend and invite her on a date of course,” he replied sweetly.

“Oh,” you said, your smile faltering as your shoulders dropped in evident disappointment. “I appreciate it, but I actually have practice today.”

“Practice?” Kise furrowed his brows. “Practice for what?”

“I have figure skating practice today. I usually head to the rink after sch—“

“You figure skate?” Kise exclaimed rather loudly; you were quite sure the whole street heard him.

“Yeah I do,” you giggled at his excitement.

“Y/N-cchi, how come you never told me? Can I watch your practice?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“You really want to watch? It can get a bit boring,” you asked.

“Of course I want to watch!” he beamed as he took your hand in his. “Lead the way.”

Grabbing a snack from a grocery store on the way, the two of you headed to the rink, where your coach was waiting for you.

“Woah, you get this while place to yourself?” Kise said breathlessly when you entered the chilly arena with skates in one hand and Kise’s palm in the other.

“Sometimes other people train here too, but today seems like it’s just me,” you shrugged.

You and Kise moved to the stands so you could get your skates on before you got onto the ice. After warming up for a bit, your coach went over your usual drills before you began to rehearse your routine that you were practicing for an upcoming competition.

Meanwhile, Kise was watching you wait nothing but intrigue in his amber eyes. Even while you were just doing your exercises, he found you absolutely graceful. Needless to say, when he finally saw the routine, he was over the moon. He had to hold himself back from hooting and cheering during it in case that threw you off. He was so excited in fact, that he had moved from his seat in the stands to the area right by the rink so he could get a closer look. His eyes never left you for even a moment.

Once your practice was over, you skated over to the edge where Kise was bent over the rails. “Well, boring isn’t it?” You said to him.

“Are you kidding me? You’re mesmerising! My Y/N-cchi is so talented,” he said, stealing a quick kiss from your lips.

Caught up in the moment, you didn’t notice your coach make his way over to you two. “You must be Kise,” he said, holding his hand out for the blonde to shake.

“Yes I am. Y/N-cchi’s been talking about me, haven’t you?” Kise inferred, throwing you a cheeky grin.

“Y/N’s mentioned you a fair few times,” your coach chuckled. “It’s your first time here isn’t it?”

“Yeah it is,” Kise nodded.

“Well, Y/N seems to do much better when you’re here. You should visit more often,” your coach said, making you want to crawl in a hole out of embarrassment.

“Is that so? I’ll do that for sure,” Kise laughed. “I was thinking that I should pick up ice skating too— just casually though.”

“Really?” you asked, eyes lighting up.

“Yeah, we could do a routine together if you’re up for it. Let me get the basics down first though,” Kise suggested.

“I can give you a few pointers if you need any. If I think your routine is good enough, maybe I’ll enter you two in a competition,” your coach said.

You were excited now; Kise was a quick learner so there was no doubt that you’d be practicing with him in no time.

A few months went by and Kise was attending almost all of your practices with you. He’d gotten quite good at it too— there were still a few falls that were absolutely hilarious because he’d whine every time, but for the most part he was much better than most amateurs.

Your coach was very amused by his progress too. “A basketball player and a figure skater in one— you don’t see that often,” he’d chuckle.

Figure skating was never something Kise saw himself doing. But looking at how beautiful you looked when you skated, an eagerness was lit up in him. No matter how hard he’d practice, he knew he’d never match up to you. There was something about the way you moved so gracefully that made him feel like whatever he attempted was inferior. He wasn’t complaining though— he was doing this for fun after all. Plus getting to see you move like that was a privilege enough.

Moreover, skating with you allowed him to spend even more time with you, and that time only increased when you two got serious about your routine as partners. Neither of you were expecting to win the competition, but you were certainly having fun in the process.

Eventually the day came where you were in an official arena with Kise. Sliding onto the ice with someone was a strange feeling as someone who was used to competing individually. In a way, it was reassuring. Kise held your hand tight as you got into position in the centre of the rink.

“Ryouta, I’m actually kinda nervous,” you muttered to him.

Honey eyes looked at you softly as your hand was squeezed even tighter. “Don’t be— I’m here with you, every step of the way,” he whispered. “Besides, you can’t possibly look worse than me.”

You felt the tension ease a little as you let out a giggle. “If we go down we go down together, I guess,” you shrugged, the idea bringing you a strange comfort.

“Exactly,” Kise smiled. He looked to the side and spotted the technician giving you two a thumbs up. “You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied.

Kise nodded in confirmation before letting go of your hand and getting into position. “We got this.”

Midorima

Midorima loves you; he loves everything you do. Even if you murdered someone, he’d probably still love you (though he’d probably scold you while he helps you hide the body— but let’s not get into the specifics of that). Needless to say, he absolutely adored watching you skate.

Midorima is a busy person though, so it’s hard for him to find time to watch you as much as he’d like. Every time he did get the chance though, he was absolutely mesmerised, as though he was experiencing it for the first time all over again.

He’d never forget the first time he saw you skate though. You’d just begun dating and you had a competition that you invited him to. He wanted to meet up with you before it started, but his basketball practice ran on for longer than he expected. For a moment, he thought he’d miss it all together, but after a quick train ride and a lot of running, he made it just in time for your slot.

Admittedly, Midorima was really unfamiliar with figure skating. He told himself that he’d read into it since you were a skater yourself, but he never got the chance to. He made his way into the crowded stands and found himself a seat, feeling rather out of place considering he was still in his bright orange tracksuit. He didn’t dwell on it for too long though because his attention was quickly drawn to the ice that you were gliding onto.

For a fleeting moment, his jaw dropped. You looked gorgeous. The confidence you seemed to have as you got into position was a side of you he’d never seen before. It was like a different person altogether. Your name was announced in the speakers, eliciting a cheer from the crowd following by a small chatter that snapped him out of his trance for a moment. The music began to play and the crowd died down as all eyes were on you.

Right off the bat, you moved with purpose. Blades gliding on the sleek ice with such grace as your body swayed to the music. The moment you landed your first triple axel, Midorima was sure of it— this was your element. Completely lost in your routine, Midorima’s breath was taken away. And when it finally ended with a loud cheer from the crowd, he was left amazed. When his horoscope placed Cancer in first that day, he didn’t think he’d be so lucky to see something this gorgeous, but here he was.

He quickly rushed down the stands to meet up with you the moment he pulled himself together. As you were taking your skates off, you spotted him approaching you almost immediately— I mean, how can you not notice the 6 foot tall, green-haired man?

Your face lit up in an instant as you ran over to him barefooted and leaped into his arms. “Shin! You made it!” you exclaimed in glee.

“Well, I couldn’t miss a performance that good, now could I?” he said with a soft smile as he hugged you tight.

“You liked it? It wasn’t really my best score, but it’s up there,” you said, composing yourself and pulling away from him.

“I don’t really understand the scoring system, but you were phenomenal— really. I could watch you do that all day if I could,” he said genuinely.

“I don’t think I have the stamina to be skating like that all day,” you giggled. “But thank you, it means a lot.”

After that day, Midorima did his best to free up some space in his schedule to watch you practice. Seriously, he was addicted to watching you skate. It blew his mind every time. Of course, he’d be there for every single competition, cheering you on because he was now without a doubt, your biggest fan.

Aomine

“Competition? What competition?” Aomine questioned one day as the two of you walked to school together.

“Have I not told you before? I figure skate,” you said simply.

Aomine stopped in his tracks for a moment, catching you off guard as you stopped too to see what had happened. He just stared at you with a baffled expression. “You figure skate?! That’s fucking hot! Why haven’t you told me before?” Aomine exclaimed.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Well I’m telling you now. I’m guessing you’ll be there tonight then?”

“That shouldn’t even be a question,” Aomine shook his head as he took your hand in his and continued walking. “Are you any good?” He asked.

“Well, I’m good enough to be in a competition, aren’t I?”

“True. I bet you’re great at it; you’re great at everything,” Aomine said.

“That’s not true,” you replied.

“It is.”

“So you’re saying I’m great at basketball too?”

Aomine visibly hesitated as he thought back to all the times he tried to teach you how to play. “Uh, yeah sure, let’s say that,” he lied.

“Shut up,” you laughed, playfully punching his arm.

For some reason, Aomine would not shut up about you being a figure skater for the rest of the day. You were trying to have a conversation with Momoi when he intervened, “Did you know Y/N’s a figure skater? How cool is that?”

“Yes I did know, Dai-chan. I’m guessing you told him about the competition today?” Momoi said returning her attention to you.

You nodded in response but Aomine stood there, slightly offended. “You told her but not me?”

“I just assumed you knew,” you shrugged, finding it quite cute how he was so invested in your sport.

“You shouldn’t assume I know anything,” Aomine said, making both you and Momoi roll your eyes and laugh at him.

Eventually, evening came and you were in the waiting room with your coach, with your eyes glued on the screen that broadcasted the current participant as you mentally prepared yourself for your turn, which was creeping up upon you. Meanwhile, Aomine was seated in the audience with Momoi, being as impatient as ever. “When is Y/N coming?” he yawned.

“Y/N should be up next,” Momoi informed as the song slowly reached its end.

The crowd cheered and a chatter started once again as everyone waited for the next person to take the ice. It took a few more minutes, but you finally entered the rink, skating to the center to get into position.

Almost immediately, Aomine’s jaw dropped. You looked stunning. The way your suit dazzled and clung onto your body was pure art. He swore that he fell in love with you all over again just at the sight.

The music began after a nod of confirmation from you and your skates began to roam the ice ever so smoothly. Aomine was blown away. You were nothing like the previous participants. The way you moved was so clean and purposeful. With each spin and leap, Aomine’s heart skipped a beat— you had his complete attention.

He was quite sure Momoi was talking to him, but he didn’t hear a word. For some reason, everything else around him seemed to fade out as he watched you skate, almost like he was stuck in a trance.

He was finally snapped out of it when the routine came to an end, leaving him at a loss for words as he joined the crowd in their applause.

You made your way off the ice and headed back inside towards the changing rooms, where you ran into Aomine and Momoi in the hallways. “Oh hey guys, what did you think?” You asked as you rotated your ankles nonchalantly to relieve them from the slight soreness you felt.

“You were so so good, Y/N. Dai-chan was so silent during the entire thing, I think you hypnotised him or something,” Momoi joked as she nudged Aomine’s arm playfully.

You turned your attention to your boyfriend, who was rolling his eyes at Momoi’s comment. “Well, was that performance worth all the hype you seemed to have?” you asked him.

“Of course it did. You did so well out there— not to mention the fact that you look incredible in that suit,” Aomine said, still unable to take his eyes off of you.

“Aw really?” You smiled.

“Yeah, you look fucking hot,” Aomine responded confidently.

You couldn’t help but giggle before you got on your toes to place a kiss of gratitude on his cheek, making him flustered. “Well, thank you Daiki— it means a lot.”

Murasakibara

You won’t be able to find someone that loves you more than Murasakibara does. Really, you won’t. He loves everything about you. Your smile, your looks, your mind, and even your hobbies. As someone who doesn’t really take much interest in other people, it was a brand new feeling to be absolutely smitten over you. But he was dedicated.

The two of you were still getting to know more about each other in the first few weeks of dating and the topic of sports came up. “Do you play any sports, Y/N-chin?” Murasakibara asked you during one of your video calls at night that he liked to have when he had nothing else to do.

“Yeah, I’m actually a figure skater,” you replied.

Murasakibara’s eyes lit up. “Really? That’s so cool. Do you go for practice and stuff?”

“Yeah, duh. I practice almost everyday.”

“No way. Can I come watch your next practice?” he asked.

“Sure, but I feel like you might find it boring,” you said hesitantly, knowing that you wouldn’t want to sit there for hours doing absolutely nothing but watch.

“Well, I guess I’ll find out,” Murasakibara said surely. “Do you have any videos of you skating?”

“Yeah but they’re not on my phone.”

“Send them to me, I wanna see you skate.”

You giggled. “Atsushi, you’ll see me skate at practice, can’t you wait until then?”

“No, I can’t wait. I bet you look really cute when you skate,” he said as brought another potato chip to his mouth.

“Well, you’re going to have to wait because I’m not sending you anything,” you said dismissively.

“How mean,” he pouted.

Luckily, you managed to change the topic of the conversation before he could beg of you any more. The day for your next practice came and Murasakibara was brimming with excitement as you two entered the arena.

After instructing him to sit at the stands, you took to the ice where you started with the warmups that your coach told you to do. Practice went on and Murasakibara gave you his full attention— which is an incredibly rare sight.

As he watched you stretch and leap and fall, he couldn’t help but be impressed. He certainly could never be able to do any of the things you were doing— it looked exhausting. Something about the way you moved had him captivated though. You looked like you were having fun. No matter how many times you’d fall or mess up, you always seemed passionate about it and that was something he envied ever so slightly, but at the same time he found it such a lovely sight.

You truly loved the sport, he could see it so clearly. And automatically, he had a newfound interest in it too. It wasn’t that he wanted to try figure skating himself, it was just the fact that he loved seeing you so happy that he began to enjoy the sport too.

“I’m surprised you haven’t fallen asleep yet,” you said to him jokingly once your practice came to an end.

“Well, you were just that good— you had my full interest,” Murasakibara shrugged.

“Really? I didn’t expect you’d enjoy it that much,” you said.

“I did. I might just watch all your practices from now on.”

“Sure you will,” you said sarcastically.

Little did you know, that he would actually do just that. At almost every practice, he’d be seated in the stands, eyes full of admiration as he watched you. He would often bring you little snacks that you liked so that you’d have something to eat after practice. There were times where he’d be extra tired, but he’d still make it to the rink, even though you’d tell him countless times not to feel obligated to watch. It usually ended with him falling asleep halfway through, but he never regretted it. It was always nice waking up to the happy face of the person he admired.

Akashi

Akashi was well aware that you were a figure skater before he began dating you. Of course, he’d never seen you actually figure skate, but he knew random things about almost everyone around him and being interested in you only made him want to get to know you more.

Akashi is a very supportive boyfriend to you, especially when it comes to your passions. Figure skating was a very beautiful sport in his eyes and the fact that the person he was dating was a figure skater was something he’d never get over.

Being the calculating person he is, he decided to take you ice skating on one of your first dates with him. It wasn’t a particularly busy day at the public ice rink so Akashi got quite lucky when the two of you got there and realised that the place was practically empty.

“Looks like we got the whole place to ourselves,” Akashi said as the two of you slid onto the ice, hand in hand.

“Yeah, it’s quite nice actually,” you smiled, appreciating the serenity of the place. “It’s kind of making me want to do a routine or something,” you thought out loud.

“Then do it.”

“No, we’re on a date, we should just skate together,” you shook your head.

“No, I insist. I’ve been wanting to watch you skate for a while now, and the opportunity finally came,” he said. “Besides, it’s just one routine, shouldn’t take too long, right?”

You let out a sigh as a soft smile spread across your face. “Yeah, I suppose,” you shrugged. “But don’t expect too much— I’m not in the most comfortable of clothes right now.”

Akashi chuckled. “No judgement from me. I just want to watch you skate.”

“Alright,” you smiled as you skated over to the centre of the rink.

Akashi stepped out and leaned against the rails to watch you from the sidelines, barely able to contain his excitement. There wasn’t any music playing so all you could hear was the sound of your blades against the ice, echoing throughout the arena. However, that didn’t stop Akashi from being fully immersed in your skating.

He was blown away by the way you skated, especially considering that he sprung this on you out of the blue. Every movement was precise and refined; he could tell that you’ve practiced to perfection and he was impressed. In fact, seeing you move so flawlessly had him swooning over you more than you could possibly imagine.

Eventually, you came to a halt, your breathing heavy after the spins and jumps, though you were quite satisfied now that you got it out of your system. Akashi returned to the ice with a smile on his face. “That was outstanding, Y/N,” he complimented.

“Really? You liked it?”

“Of course I did. It all seemed so professional— you really practice a lot, don’t you?” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I have been for years,” you nodded.

“Well, you’re absolutely stunning on the ice,” he said genuinely as he placed a kiss on your forehead and took your hand in his. “Shall we get back to our date now?”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

As much as Akashi would have adored to watch you practice everyday, the times often overlapped with his basketball training— though he did make it a habit to meet up with you afterwards so that he could walk you home (like the gentleman he his). Even though he was a busy person, he always attended your competitions without fail. He’d always send you a bouquet of flowers before your competitions as well, with little notes wishing you good luck and it would melt your heart every single time.

[petri808]

Nalu Yakuza Au *cover art by @jmoart214 💜

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |

The tit for tat game was well known to both of their top confidants and lieutenants because it had been going on ever since Natsu and Lucy broke up. Plus, it was hard to get around such knowledge considering most of them came from the same neighborhoods. These intrigues ebbed and flowed like waves. Months could pass by without any interactions between the two, at other times they’d go back and forth continuously until one of them finally gave up, and on the odd occasion ended in a huge fight that led to another round of ignoring each other. Up until now, it had been kind of amusing to watch them torture each other because it was better than a drama shows on television. But that didn’t mean Natsu, and Lucy’s friends didn’t worry about one or both being truly hurt one day because of it.

“It’s fine,” Natsu rolled his eyes as Gray chastised him after the soapland incident. The two men were at Natsu’s home after work hours and supposed to be relaxing. But clearly his friend didn’t want to drop the subject. “What’s the big deal?”

“Dude, you let yourself be blindfolded in a public space! Have you forgotten what kind of business we’re in? What if it had been an assassin instead?”

“Oh, that’s just ridiculous. We’re talking about Lucy’s company, and I trust their security measures because she has just as much to lose if a hit took place there.”

“Still, you should be more careful, at least take a bodyguard with you…”

Natsu’s eyebrow twitched in irritation. “And what, so they can watch the show? We got any voyeurs on the payroll? Cause I can’t think of anyone here who’d wanna see another guy getting his balls fondled!”

Gray ran a hand down his face. “So not the mental image I wanted. You’re missing the point.” He sighed. “Natsu you are the head of this clan, and your safety is my top priority.”

“I get it, I get it,” Natsu drawled.

“And frankly,” Gray continued, “you’ve become distracted by her lately.”

“Tch! No, I haven’t!”

“Yeah, you are. You think I haven’t noticed? I know you drive by her place sometimes. I know you’ve followed her to that coffee shop she likes to frequent. But ever since her employee was robbed, things have escalated again.”

“You’re imagining things and apparently spying on me. I’m just keeping an eye on the competition.”

“Watching over you is my job! That’s not spying.” Gray crossed his arms. “And oh, it’s no doubt that you’re keeping an eye on her. That’s why you went to Katsunuma’s party and to soapland too. The problem is you’re getting sloppy and sloppy gets people killed.”

Natsu groaned. “Are you done yet? We’re supposed to be enjoying the baseball game, not psychoanalyzing my life.”

“Almost.” Gray placed a hand on his friends’ knee and leaned in. “Natsu, you’ve been chasing that tail since high school, just lock her down and convince her to work together already.”

Natsu snorted a laugh. “Gray we all grew up together, so what in all these years makes you think that’s a possibility? You know damn well Lucy’s not a woman you can control without her consent.” Natsu knew that, and frankly he loved that part of her. In fact, it made him even more fired up whenever he thought about it, just like a treasure you don’t just find but must win at the end of a game. “I’ll find a way, some day.”

“Well until that day arrives, could you promise me you’ll be more cautious?”

“Fine, fine,” Natsu waved his hand. “I’ll back off of Lucy for now.”

“Good.” Gray relaxed back onto his recliner thinking the drama was over.

“However, there is a new guy I want surveillance placed on.”

“Who?”

“The bartender from the party.”

Gray groaned. “Seriously? Why? He’s just a bartender!”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Was he spiking the drinks or something? Dealing drugs at the party?”

“Maybe.”

Gray huffed. “You really gonna try that? Do I look like an idiot? This is just straight jealousy talking.”

“I don’t care! I want someone to dig up what they can on the guy!”

“No, what you wanna know is if he fucked Lucy that night!”

Natsu jumped up with his fists clenched. “Fuck you!”

“Fuck you too!” Gray stood up and matched his boss’s energy. “Unless you give me a damn good reason to check into him, I’m not wasting my guy’s time! You might be the boss, but don’t you fucking forget who you’re talking to! I’m not some punk off the streets!”

Realizing he was taking things too far, Natsu sat back down. “Sorry.”

Gray sighed and plopped back down too. “I only joined because you asked me to and you’re my best friend, then I helped you build this new empire, so I’m just as invested in protecting it as you are. But Natsu, personal emotions have led to the downfall of many in this business, and as a friend, I’ll check you any time I think you’re going to far.”

“You’re right…” Natsu sighed too. “She just gets me so worked up.”

“Don’t I know it,” Gray laughed, but stopped when Natsu glared at him. “Sorry, it slipped out.”

“But I swear, there’s something suspicious about him. When he saw me, I thought he just reacted because he thought I was Lucy’s boyfriend or something, but the more I think about it, he might have recognized me.”

“Well, that wouldn’t necessarily be suspicious either.”

“True. But the look in his eyes just made me wonder.”

“Alright…” Gray groaned, “if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll have someone do some digging. So, you said he has orange hair and glasses, and the name on his tag was Loke?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s an unusual name, shouldn’t be too hard to check on.”

Over the course of a couple of weeks, Gray sent out feelers for any information on this Loke guy. Katsunuma junior gave them their first small lead that the bartender had worked the party through a local food catering company. That catering company was a legitimate business who had both full-time staff as well as independent contractors brought in per event as needed. Loke had been one of the latter. From there Gray obtained a last name, de Lioncourt.

According to his sources at the local precinct, Loke de Lioncourt had no rap sheet, no prior dealings with police, and for all they knew was an average citizen. The man’s Line blog profile listed him as a 28-year-old, Japanese/French American, model and bartender, and it was filled with pictures from events, parties, as well as many gorgeous women— none of which contained Lucy. But as Gray trolled through the man’s feed, he did come across one person he recognized and passed the information along to Natsu.

“Wow, she’s in a bunch of photos,” Natsu mumbled as he scrolled through the blog.

“Well, considering Cana’s reputation are you surprised. Parties and alcohol are the two things that woman lives for.” Gray laughed. “Now see, this makes sense to me. Lucy and him, not so much.”

“Tch… still pisses me off he even tried.”

“Lucy’s a free woman, she can go out with whoever she wants to.”

“We’ll see about that,” Natsu mumbled low.

“What was that?” Gray asked with a raised brow.

“Nothing.”

“Better be nothing, cause this is a dead end. He’s just a flirty bartender. It’s how they make tips.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” Natsu sat back in his chair. “So, back to business. What this I heard about some missing stock?”

“Oh, right. One of the warehouse clerks noticed a shortage, but when I checked with Yura, he said the books were fine. I had him show it to me, and it appears the numbers were just inverted by accident. So, instead of 185 kilos, it’s supposed to be 158 kilos.”

“Did you talk to the clerk again? Does he have any history of messing up like this?”

“Nah, he’s one of our better clerks.”

“Just keep an eye on it.”

“Sure thing, boss. By the way, have you seen Gajeel today?” Gray questioned. “I haven’t seen him.”

“He called me this morning said he wasn’t feeling well, thinks he ate something bad for dinner last night.”

“Tch, seriously? Thought he had an iron stomach?”

Natsu shrugged. “Must’a been some bad sushi or something. We ain’t got much happening today, so it’s fine. Anything else? I got some stuff I need to finish.”

Gray tapped his chin. “Just a reminder you have an appointment with our tech guy dropping by later this week to go over some upgrades on the system.”

“Like I’m supposed to know anything about that stuff, it’s what I pay him for.”

“You still gotta approve it,” Gray shrugged and took his leave.

Once the man was completely out of the office, Natsu opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a nondescript box he’d hidden inside. He grinned to himself. It was time to make another special delivery. Even though he’d told Gray he was backing off the whole Lucy and Loke subject, there was no way he was gonna let it slide. Natsu didn’t care if the man seemed legit, and he wasn’t the first nor would probably be the last that he’d eventually scared away. And besides, being a Yakuza boss had a lot of down times too, easily filled with having a little fun.

Today’s little care package was being sent to Lucy by a courier service and Natsu just had to drop it off to the delivery company. Just a normal company like Kuroneko Yamato so it wouldn’t rouse too many suspicions. It was turning into a fun game for him just coming up with ideas of what he could do to rile Lucy up or irritate this Loke guy. Natsu chuckled to himself. So far, his favorite prank was a box of small sized condoms and a bottle of enhancement pills that he’d had delivered to Loke while on the job at another party. He’d even snuck in to watch it delivered, gaining a good laugh when the man took a peek in the box and frowned at its contents.

It was childish, but Natsu didn’t care. Every day for two weeks now, something new was sent to Loke. Random gifts like children’s candy to a toy gun, a big bottle of lubricant wrapped in a bow, a week’s worth of meals sent for lunch one day, even an empty box with rocks inside it just to drive the man crazy wondering who in the world was sending them. Lucy too wasn’t immune to his pranks, though hers had a different feel to them. Flowers with no note attached. Tickets to a canceled show he made up. A supposed dinner invite from Loke that wasn’t real— okay that was to test her, but she didn’t fall for it. And today’s little care package fit right into his prank scheme.

Natsu dropped off the package at a Kuroneko Yamato office with the address instructions already filled out and paid the company’s employee extra to keep their mouths shut. ‘She’s gonna kill me one day,’ he laughed to himself as he rode back to his office. ‘If it’s suffocation by her boobs it wouldn’t be a bad way to go!’

“Anymore stops sir?” The driver asked Natsu.

“Nope. Back to the office.”

He looked at his watch. The package should be arriving at Lucy’s office within the hour. Give or take another to open it, and by 4pm he would be receiving another phone call. Maybe he won’t answer it. Oh, that would piss her off even more! ‘Well, if she’d just take the hint...’

The afternoon was supposed to be mellow at headquarters that day. No shipments, and no appointments. But when Natsu got back, another general in the organization named Jellal Fernandez came to his office to inform him of a problem. One of the new local restaurants in their territory was refusing to cooperate and he wanted to know how Natsu wanted it handled. They were right in the middle of discussing it, when Natsu’s office door flew open with a loud bang!

In stomped Lucy who immediately threw a box at his head, causing Natsu to duck and Jellal to pull his gun.

“Don’t!” Natsu screamed at his general and motioned for him to stand down, to which the man complied. “Do you have a death wish Lucy!”

“Get. Out.” She snapped at the general. “Get out! This is between me and your boss!”

Jellal looked to Natsu, who nodded his head to scram. “I got this, don’t worry.” The man holstered his gun and left, but Natsu could see he’d stayed right outside of the now closed door.

“I take it you didn’t like the gift,” Natsu pretended to stay calm.

“Gee, me throwing it at you give you that impression? I know it’s you sending all these damn deliveries to me and Loke. That needs to stop now!”

He crossed his arms and scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Play dumb all you want. Just stop! Why are you even doing this?!”

“Take a guess,” he sneered back.

“I could’ve sworn we were adults now, but apparently I’m the only one who grew up. Stay out of my love life Natsu!”

“So, you admit you’re sleeping with the guy!”

“That’s none of your damn business! I can fuck whoever I want!”

“Not as long as I’m alive,” Natsu growled back.

Lucy crossed her arms. “That could be arranged.”

“Is that a threat?!”

“Yes! If you don’t stay out of my love life!”

“A woman shouldn’t be sleepi—”

“Don’t you finish that sentence!” Lucy grabbed a stapler that was within reach and chucked it at Natsu’s head. “Stop trying to control me!”

“Are you crazy?!”

At that moment, Gray barged into the room. He’d heard the screaming from the other side of the office, and when he got close enough to see Jellal standing outside the door, he became alarmed. Why would a general leave Natsu vulnerable! The man told him their boss told him to leave, but as the sounds inside escalated, Gray couldn’t wait anymore.

“Stop it!!” Gray got between them. “What are you two doing! Lucy you shouldn’t be here!”

“Then tell your damn boss to leave me the fuck alone!” Lucy spat back. “Ask him how he’s been harassing Loke and me!”

Gray turned to his boss with a groan. “Natsu, we talked about this!”

“Tell Gray what you been doing!” Lucy pressed. “Show him the stupid packages you send!”

“What packages?” Gray looked to Lucy, then repeated the question as he stared at his boss. “What packages?”

“Tch,” Natsu crossed his arms, “it’s not even that bad.”

Lucy stomped over to where the box fell and picked it up, pulling the contents out. “Bullshit!” She snapped as she held up a very racy, red nightie with flame prints, a pair of fluffy handcuffs, and a large dildo. “See this shit?!” Lucy shook the floppy latex toy at Gray before chucking it to the ground again. “He includes messages too,” then handed the man a folded piece of paper.

Gray read it aloud, “to make up for what playboy lacks. Had it custom made to my size wink wink. Ugh, seriously man,” he tossed the letter.

Natsu shrugged. “I was just having fun.”

“This is the yakuza, not a daycare!” Gray snaps. “I’m not here to babysit the boss so he stops harassing the competition! There’s more important business to worry about!”

“That’s right listen to Gray,” Lucy sneered.

Gray turned to her. “Oh, you ain’t innocent either, so don’t even try it. You both do things to purposely rile the other up and get mad when there’s consequences. Stop it!” He looked back and forth between the two. “Just stop it already!”

Natsu and Lucy looked away from the man with scowls on their faces. Neither wanted to admit he was right.

“Jellal,” Gray called out. When the man entered, he instructed him to escort Lucy out of there. “Next time, just call me instead. It’s best you two just stay away from each other. Got it?!”

“Yeah,” Lucy grumped.

“Got it?!” Gray questioned his boss.

“Yeah,” Natsu mumbled.

“Fucking like high school,” Gray ran a hand down his face in irritation. “You two need therapy.”

[writeblrfantasy]

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pax said he liked my clothing descriptions and i haven't been able stop thinking about that so i put together this compilation!! from acogs, brenin, oots, a short from gkbk i'm working on, and the farlingverse. i hope you love all of these because i'm super proud of all of them <3<3

taglists and ts under the cut

Katya is dressed in a brilliant red velvet gown whose floor length skirt trails behind her. Gold is embroidered onto the hem of the skirt and the bodice, supported by a thin red strap that curves around her neck. Her orange hair covers her shoulders in loose curls, two parts on either side pulled back from her face and secured with a ribbon on her head like always. She wears no jewelry on her pale, freckled skin, and the neckline of the gown teases her breasts.

In a few minutes, one huge golden ring will sit on her right middle finger. Nikolai pictures it now.

Beautiful and mighty, she’s sitting on the old throne of the temple, from when this was the palace and Aspiania was the capital. The fingers of her left hand curl over the white armrests, and she leans her head back onto the red cushion there. Green eyes dulled behind the wire frames of her spectacles have the power to freeze an empire, a whole world.

Nikolai is more interested in the drawn golden sword in her right hand.

~

Esme is wearing custom made robes in a beautiful mix of red, dark blue, and purple, with a sash and hems of shimmering gold. Embroidery of the sun and moon decorate patches in tiny patterns, stars covering every inch of them.

In traditional Tan style, they wrap around his shoulders and tie at his waist with the knot in the back, the sleeves loose and flared out at the wrists. They go down to his feet, covered in polished black boots. His black hair is sparkled with gold dust, but it’s forever too long and strands fall into his eyes.

He grins when he sees Laurent across the temple for the first time, dopey eyed, as Laurent’s soul evaporates from his body. It’s a remarkable testament to his self-restraint that he doesn’t cross the temple in three strides and tackle Esme to the ground.

~

Feryn looks truly like an angel, or a god, or grace incarnate. No veil covers her head, but her white hair hangs loose round her face. Cygnus was expecting curls, or a braid with flowers, or an updo with a diamond circlet wrapping her hair. But the reality is plain. And it’s beautiful.

She’s wearing cosmetics, he’s sure, but he can’t see them well. Her brown eyes just look a little brighter than normal, her lashes a little longer, her cheeks a little fuller. She smiles at him with warm eyes and pink lips.

Her gown is something he’s been looking forward to seeing and endlessly imagining ever since she and Lian got engaged. Like her hair, it’s much simpler than expected. The fabric is shiny like satin, the straps thin and the bodice plain like the gown Evan wore to her bridal shower.

Unlike Evan’s, the neckline dips, and the skirt of Feryn’s dress is slim. Feryn must be wearing shoes with tall heels, because Cygnus knows she isn’t naturally this tall. Or perhaps it’s just her posture, the straight back, the easy, content way she holds herself.

~

Feryn, who asked Cygnus to trust her when he asked what he would be wearing at the play, dresses him in bright red silk robes with drapes over the shoulders that blow out behind him. She says she had them made especially for tonight. Cygnus is rendered speechless, reminded of the luxury he lives as king. Feryn seems only pleased.

The shoulders and collar are decorated in sapphires and embroidered in gold. The robes don’t allow trousers to show that much, so he wears plain black. Feryn chooses polished black shoes with gold trim, and a red and gold clip for his hair.

When he looks in the mirror, he thinks he’s dressed for the most pristine play in the whole country, not Cherie’s little central company.

~

“Valerie—” Ruby begins, words dying in her throat as Cygnus holds up a hand. A rich sapphire ring adorns on his hand, and that’s not the only finery he’s wearing. His silk jacket of dark green is bejeweled with glittering gems and delicate piping. His boots are shinier than she’s ever seen them, and with his purple cloak and combed hair, he’s obviously going to meet someone important.

~

Like every other lady in the castle, Ruby allows Feryn to force her into nice clothes. She refuses the robes Feryn brought out, heavy red velvet, and chooses instead black breeches, a fine shirt, and an ornate jacket. The jacket is dull green, trimmed in gold and fastened with gleaming buttons. Ruby pulls on a new pair of black boots and actually gives some thought to her hair, after a moment permitting Feryn to braid it down her back. It’s all tedious to her, but she’ll endure it to keep poor Cygnus company.

~

“Come in,” came Alea’s voice at my first knock. I opened the door, watching Moureen muttering and fussing over Alea’s dress. The mix of sea greens and blues complimented her beautiful hair, some curls braided into a crown around her head, the rest lying around her shoulders. I couldn’t hold back a grin.

“What?” she asked.

“You look beautiful. I have something for you,” I said, bringing forth the box from behind my back and thrusting it into her hands. I motioned for her to open it.

“Oh, Bren, you didn’t have to—” She opened it, her mouth falling open. “Oh, my—” Alea turned and set the box down, picking up the jade and sapphire teardrop earrings that I’d bought her in the shop. It must’ve been the gods’ will for the dress and earrings to match perfectly, making her green eyes stand out. She looked every bit the duchess, every bit a queen.

~

Alea was in a stunning gold ballgown that glittered and shone when she moved. The skirt was embellished with pearls and diamonds, dripping and glittering. Her hair was up, a white flower hairpin keeping it out of her eyes. She smiled, and her green eyes looked even more beautiful than ever. I told her so. She laughed like she didn’t believe me.

~

More footsteps came to the door. I glanced up at Moureen, who was coming in with my freshly shined shoes. Thales hovered in the doorway in front of Lakus. I looked him over, taking in his bright blue jacket, adorned with gold trim and beading. The finished jacket looked much better now than it had during yesterday’s boring afternoon in the store. I found myself catching my breath.

He gave me a small smile. “You look good. The green, uh, looks good.”

I did something with my hands. “Thanks, I guess.” My jacket was well done. Light green and silver, pearl buttons and dark stitching. I chose the silver just to get on Lakus’s nerves, since I knew Danda couldn’t care less about whether people wore gold or not.

Lakus, by contrast, had bright, gaudy orange on. There was so much gold on him I could feel the money, and I grimaced, looking away from him after a glance.

~

Cerrick doesn’t recognize anyone else in the purples, reds, yellows, but he sees his man in the center of the pack in bright blue and green armor, cloak fluttering out behind him. his horse is gray, mottled with black spots, shorter than the rest. His sword is gleaming in his right hand, black gloves clutching the hilt like one born to it. His braid sticks out of his polished blue helmet, shining in the sun. Cerrick doesn’t care if Olin laughs at him for his reaction, he still curses softly under his breath.

Njord is beautiful.

The knights run a few casual circles around the stadium, waving to the crowd. Cerrick watches the crowd hand their knight of choice bracelets, charms, wreaths with fresh flowers braided into them.

acogs taglist (lmk to be added/removed) @magic-is-something-we-create @inkflight @spencer-nyx @writing-is-a-martial-art @ashen-crest @wisteria-eventide @nikkywrites @denkis-phone-charger @myhusbandsasemni @lynolord @ettawritesnstudies @golden-apple-s-blog @chazzawrites @pen-of-roses @47crayons @wickerring @sleepy-night-child @florraisons @faithfire @croctears @inkovert @kait-writes

fv taglist (lmk to be added/removed): @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @magic-is-something-we-create @47crayons @idk-bout-tonight

oots taglist (lmk to be added/removed) @willowiswriting @ninazeniks @magic-is-something-we-create @myhusbandsasemni @ren-c-leyn @justwriteyoudummy @47crayons @yejidoesthings @ettawritesnstudies @faithfire @a-forgotten-dusk @talesfromaurea @ashen-crest

general taglist: @magic-is-something-we-create @myhusbandsasemni @wickerring @directionoftime @47crayons @familiarvillain

gkbk taglist: (lmk to be added/removed) @magic-is-something-we-create @idk-bout-tonight @ren-c-leyn @crystallized-ink @hysteriwah @denkis-boyfriend @ashen-crest @aconfusedomni @myhusbandsasemni​ @oshaaru​ @metanoiamorii @47crayons

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

k.taehyung/reader 

genre: arist!taehyung, painting!reader, parallel/horror universe

warning(s): violence, mannequins+paintings coming to life (bc ppl are scared of that), blood- but like red paint instead, horror/dread/action elements (i tried okay), bittersweet 

words: 20.3k 

One-shot | Two-shot | Series | Drabble | [Rated: Pg:15] 

Loosely based on Ib, an RPG Horror/Adventure game + Leia (Vocaloid)

synopsis: Taehyung, a freelance, abstract artist is in the middle of one of the worst art blocks known to mankind.  In an act of possible inspiration, he drags his best friend, Namjoon, to a new art gallery just opened.  Only, he didn’t know that his visit would result in him getting separated from his friend and thrust into a new gallery.  One he wasn’t familiar with in the slightest. Along with this mysterious new gallery, a collection of strange creatures lurking around every corner came with the unsettling territory. 

a/n: i literally started this in March of 2019.... I have no excuse for the wait other than my bad.  Regardless, Colorblind is FINALLY done and out! It’s obvs waayyy longer than I intended it to be back in 2019 when I could only pump out like 9k at max- it’s over double that now LOL. But that hopefully aint gonna stop y’all (pls, lmk what you thought/thnk, i’m so anxious about this one alsdjf)

“Here you are, gentlemen.  Enjoy your visit to the gallery,” the receptionist at the counter smiled as she would to anyone.  Handing over two pamphlets to the two men who stood in front of her.  One was dressed in white track pants, two stripes running down the legs.  A white, collared, button-up shirt with a tie exceptionally loose around his neck with a blue, track jacket with red and white stripes down the sleeve, matching his track pants.

The other man wore loose black pants around his hips.  A black and white vertical striped, sleeveless jersey with three buttons on the collar with a red cap placed backward on his faded orange-haired head.  

These two men were two Kim’s. Taehyung and Namjoon.  Taehyung works as a self-employed, freelance artist; throwing and brushing paint over a canvas in random ways and creating objects and places for his mind to be free in abstract ways.  Namjoon is a humbled journalist for a local news blog for his exceptional wording and phrasing on all sorts of topics.  

Taehyung had come to the new gallery opening not too far from his home in search of inspiration.  He had been in a bit of a slump lately, and with nothing to do and nothing worthwhile happening, he was desperate.  Namjoon tagged along because he was tasked with the job of writing a review of the new establishment and creating a small article to include in the next online publication.

“Welcome to the grand opening of The Gallery of Leia!”

Taehyung mumbled to himself as he read the title of the pamphlet given to him.  “Why Gallery of Leia?” He questioned the name as the receptionist answered promptly.

“Leia is the one surviving piece of an artist from way back when that survived a brutal fire.  In honor of its survival, the gallery was named as such.”  She said with a smile as Taehyung nodded and nudged Namjoon’s arm, who stood next to him.

“Let’s go,” he said as he walked inside, not trying to stick around for more conversation and holding up the line of people also trying to gain entry inside. Namjoon following him as he quickly scanned a the front of the pamphlet.  

The gallery was two stories in a decent squared size building.  It was quite the exercise trip in Taehyung’s opinion.  Sculptures were placed against walls or out in the open for rotational viewing pleasure.  Paintings and sketches were hanging, littering the walls for guests to see clearly.  All the different pieces from all sort of artists featured here was amazing, such a wide variety as Taehyung’s eyes scanned the names.  Some familiar, some not.

“Wow, this place is pretty busy,” Namjoon said as he looked around. Namjoon had pulled out a tablet from his side bag, turning on the large touch screen as he took the pen attached to the side of it and opened up a program for taking notes as he started scribbling.  Taehyung peeked over his shoulder.  

“You haven’t even seen any art yet.  Why are you already jotting stuff down?”  

“It’s always good to start an article with how packed or how empty a place is.  The more people there, the more popular or interesting to the masses it is, which normally leads to more pros than cons.  It’s like a first look into how interesting it may or may not be.”  He rambled off like he’s answered the question a million times.  Taehyung nodded with pouted lips.

“You’re such a workaholic.”  Namjoon rolled his eyes at the remark, placing the pen between his fingers as he held his tablet and lowered it to his side.

“Let’s go look around.” The gallery itself, aside from the art pieces inside it, was stark white.  White ceilings to match the white walls and tiled flooring in yet more, polished white.  The lights weren’t as strong as one would think for a gallery, but if they were any brighter the receptionist would need to hand out complimentary sunglasses along with pamphlets because of all the lights bouncing off and around from the white  interior.

Namjoon was busy looking at a large-scale sculpture of a red rose as Taehyung wandered around not too far from him.  He turned down a hall that was surprisingly void of any warm bodies. He was surprised to find an area that hadn’t been cluttered with people yet.  Though, he assumed it wasn’t all that odd considering the early morning hour.  

Along the left wall was a large, long canvas, easily engulfing a vast majority of the wall itself.  It also happened to be the only piece in this dead-end corridor.

Taehyung stood in front of the painting as he looked over it.  Trying to see each and every detail.  He was in awe of the detail and how much time it must have taken to even complete such a large painting.  The dedication and time served to it was admirable.

The painting gave off an eerie vibe.  A dark background with what seemed to be the space of a studio, a spacey and wide studio with canvas’s on walls, frames hanging, paints and easels littering the space leaking into a greater mass of a space with even more dark, distorted art. As he continued to look at it, he stopped to blink, reset his eyes and rub at them so he didn’t go crosseyed and get dizzy.

As Taehyung gazed at the whole of the masterpiece, Namjoon strode up to him.  He whistled lowly in an impressed awe.

“Damn. That's one dedicated, dead painter.”  He walked to the plaque underneath the frame, kneeling so he could read the title of the particular piece aloud.  “Parallel Reality. Painted in 1996 by-” he couldn’t finish because the hall suddenly darkened.  Namjoon and Taehyung both looked at the ceiling and the flickering lights before they blacked out completely. Leaving the room dark and quiet.

“A blackout?” Taehyung questioned. Namjoon stood up, walking back over to his friend.  

“We should go back to the front desk.”  Taehyung nodded as the two of them began the journey back, stepping carefully and squinting to make sure they wouldn’t run into any sculptures or walls.  All the while, never once running into another person.  In fact, the entire gallery was completely silent besides their footsteps.

“Where is everyone?”  Taehyung asked, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness.  

“I’m sure they’ve all gathered outside.  No point in staying in a dark gallery.”  The two made it to the front glass doors.  “It’s… dark outside?”  Taehyung looked out through the glass doors.  “It was just noon?”  Namjoon shook his head, pulling on the door, but the door refused to open.  “It’s locked!”  He grunted, yanking again, pushing and pulling on the door.  Nothing.  Namjoon sighed as he turned to Taehyung.  “Go look around, maybe someone is still here.  In the meantime, I’m going to try and get this door open.”

Taehyung nodded before he turned and walked back into the gallery.  The halls still dark, every window showing nothing but a dark, deep navy outside.  He walked to a window to look outside, maybe get a glimpse of what was going on.  But, nothing.  

He turned and walked away, but jumped when he heard someone banging on the glass of the window he had just left.  Running back, he could just barely make out the imprint of a wide handprint on the outside of the glass.  It made a chill run up Taehyung’s back. 

For a moment, he assumed it was Namjoon who had gotten out and was getting his attention to run to the front and get out.  So, he did, dashing to the entrance and when he didn’t see Namjon around any longer, he tried the door.  Still locked.  

He hissed as he whipped back around and went back to the window before he shook his head. As he walked around the gallery further, his eyes began adjusting to the darkness and eventually he was even able to make out some of the art pieces again.  

A painting of a black cat.  One of a man hanging upside down by his ankles.  A basket of fruit that he swore use to have an apple included in the basket.  The back of a woman dressed in nothing but red.  

He felt like he was walking in circles. More than ready to head back to just sit at the front until someone came- since someone had to at some point, he heard another set of footsteps.  At first he thought it may be Namjoon coming back to find him; however, the footsteps were too light to be his friends- he always was a bit of a heavy stomper. Taehyung turned and headed towards the steps as they seemed to move further from him instead of towards him.  

“Hey!”  He called into the echoey halls of the dark gallery. The steps halting momentarily before they started running.  So, Taehyung sprinted after them.  “Where are you going?!”  He yelled as he ran into an open, large venue.  He looked around as he ran, seeing no one around.  “Where are you?!”  He shouted before he stepped in a puddle.  No, not a puddle.  A puddle would only be an inch or two deep.  It surely wouldn’t be enough to engulf him entirely.  

Now, Taehyung was sinking.  Drowning slowly into the Abyss of the Deep before the lights flicked back on and the murmurs of people resumed.

-x-x-x-

When Taehyung woke up, his head was throbbing, his mind was fuzzy and his conscience more than a little confused.  Laying on his chest on the floor like a jersey-dressed starfish, he groaned as he pushed himself up to support his torso on his elbows.  His hair was messier than before as his bangs threatened to poke his eyes.  Looking back and forth, he was in a hallway.  The corridor was dark, a hint of purple and indigo surrounding the entire room.  Walls, carpet, ceiling everything was the same shade of purple.

Obviously, the polar opposite than the pure white of everything previously.

Rolling onto his back and pushing himself to stand, he wobbled as he held his head and tried to will away the headache that was beginning to slowly lessen.  

Going backward before trying to even round the corner down the way, he found a single wooden door at the dead-end of the hall.  Twisting the knob, he entered the small room.  The room was square, red and on the back wall was a single large painting of a woman.  Her eyes were closed and her face was blank.  Her hair was somehow painted off the canvas, down past the frame and onto the wall like it was real hair falling out of the portrait.  

In front of that portrait was a single small wooden table with a vase.  In that vase was a single, blue rose.  A rose with 10 large, vibrant petals and a vine that lacked thorns.  Taehyung had never seen a blue rose before- well, not a real, authentic one anyways. Everyone’s seen the fake, painted blue, red, pink, yellow, purple and whatever other color roses in dollar stores before. Thinking it was manmade, he examined it further, putting his hands on the table to close inspect.  He became far more interested in the flower the more he looked at it.  

It drew him in.  The color captivated him and the aura around it seemed almost important and he felt the slightest urge to pick it up.  Maybe he should, maybe it would be fine.  Reaching out slowly, he drew the rose from the vase and something akin to a jolt of electricity ignited his fingertips. It felt like he had somehow forged an instant connection with this flower as soon as the end of the vine left the crystal clear water of the vase.

Call him crazy, but he almost felt fearful of putting it back and leaving it behind.

The vase on the table cracked as Taehyung’s attention shifted to it from the rose.  Crack after crack spread on the vase before it burst into pieces.  Taehyung hunched backward to shield his face with his arms from the exploded glass.  Shards of glass sat on the table and fell to the floor as the water pooled around the wooden surface and continued to spread as it began to drip off the table’s edge onto the carpet.

“I guess, I’ll take it along.”  He muttered to himself as he turned his back.  As he exited the room, he failed to notice the woman’s portrait shift.  Her eyes opened wide- almost insane- as she smiled.  PItch black paint writing appearing under her frame in smeared text.  

WHEN THE ROSE WILTS, SO TOO WILL YOU WILT AWAY

Taehyung left the room and the hallway he returned to had changed from what he last remembered. There were random letters on the ceiling and floor, spelling something that Taehyung couldn’t make out in the dark hall.  At his feet, he felt himself kick at something when he moved to step forward.  Picking it up, he held a small blue key in his palm.  

Going further down the hall, he came to a forked path.  He could continue going down the hall or take the staircase he that presented itself to him.  The stairs lead up higher than he could see with two paintings on either side of the entrance. Two landscapes of a mountain range; one normal and the other an identical copy, only negative scaled.  Coming to a decision, he took the hall just to cover the ground floor.  Coming to just another dead end, he returned and took to the stairs up.  

At the top of the stairs was a door.  Trying it, it was locked. 

“Naturally,” he huffed.  Trying the key he had kicked with his shoe and picked up not too long ago, it fit perfectly and unlocked the door as he stepped through it.  The door slammed shut and locked on it’s own behind him.  The key becoming useless since their was no keyhole on this side of the door.  He dropped it, leaving it behind. 

He was in a library now.  It was a small room, maybe not even considered a library.  Just a room with bookshelves and books.  Like a compact study without a desk.

He didn’t recognize a lot of the books- which was surprising considering he did have a liking for reading.  He stopped scanning his fingers over the spines of books when among all the thick, sophisticated books was a tiny, thin spine of a bright red children's book.

Pulling it out from it’s snug place on the shelf, he held it in his hands.  It was a short, wide book with a picture colored very messily in what he could only assume was crayon on the cover of it.  Sitting on the ground, his back against the bookcase, he opened it’s thick, card-stock, wobbly pages.

The book was about a painter.  He had been painting his whole life, so long in fact that he started to blend his world with reality.  He would give his paintings ‘life’ and he’d treat them like they were truly alive.  In his mind, they were his friends.  

A painting of a lion toy no bigger than the size of a book, stills of sentient objects like a fan, and even paint brushes contained souls with a conscience and mind to this painter. Even a can of pressurized air that would ‘bully’ or tease the others when they least expected it was ‘alive’, leaving the painter to rip that painting of air up for it’s rotten behavior.

It ends with the painter creating a portrait of someone, something he wasn’t familiar with painting.  People weren’t his strong suit and as such, he was left in isolation for most of his life. His devotion to painting left him alone in reality because he ‘saw’ nothing else.  Thus, he created his own friend in a painting of a woman that didn't exist.  When she ‘came alive’ he even grew to fall in love with her.  The last few pages of the story were torn out, so Taehyung would never know the ending.  

“Who would fall in love with something they knew was fake?  Something painted would never come alive,” he muttered.  Considering the painter in the story to be an utter fool.

Taehyung suddenly jumped, children’s book sliding off his legs and snapping shut as the door to his left unlocked with a loud clack.  He slowly got up, picking the book back up taking it with him as he put it back on the shelf.  The door that unlocked started to whine.  The handle was rusty sounding as something from the outside started turning it.  

In a very logical fit of panic, Taehyung rushed and grabbed the thickest book he could find and held it at the ready.  Absolutely ready to whack whatever weirdo came into this room, knock them out (with luck), restrain them and then question where the hell he was. That, or a hit and run would work too.  He’d figure out which suggestion when the time came in a few moments.

The turning of the knob halted.  Stopped for so long that Taehyung thought whatever it was had gone away.  Lowering his book, he squinted his eyes at the door.  It was quiet, all he could hear was his breathing with the occasional nervous gulp of his.  

There was only but another beat of silence before chaos erupted.  

The door busted open, nearly ripping off it’s handles.  Taehyung, with a short, shocked scream, stumbled back as two things threw themselves into the room.  One was a woman, or rather half a woman.  Long brown hair cascaded down her head and her torso was decked in a red turtleneck.  Her face had a twisted demeanor etched into what would probably be a beautiful face otherwise.  From her waist down was nothing but a picture frame.  Her lower half didn’t exist and was replaced with a black void background and frame with gold edges.  It was like some horror effect that dragged around behind her everywhere she crawled. 

The second was an actual woman.  Legs, arms, chest and all.  Dressed in ruined overalls, a long sleeved white shirt with yellow stripes up the arms.  Tacky, torn brown boots on her feet as she stomped and kicked away at the woman in the frame.  She was wielding... a stick?  Or what looked like what may be part of what was once another picture frame.  End jagged and just asking for someone to get a nasty splinter.

The woman in the frame hissed at her like a dog as her clawed hands moved to drag her across the floor towards the actual woman’s legs.  The framed lady moved faster than Taehyung imagined was possible.  Dragging her half body across the floor and slithering with an absurd amount of grace like a snake.

The lady in the frame latched onto the woman’s leg causing her to in turn repeatedly kick at the frame’s head with her opposite foot.  The frame screamed as she was kicked against a bookshelf.  Books fell, toppling onto the frame as she screeched.  However, her insistent screeching silenced when the real woman took the jagged end of the broken frame she wielded and thrust it into the frames exposed and vulnerable head.

Red ‘paint’ erupted from the frame like a fountain before it became completely limp.  The woman shook the frame piece around, whipping it like a sword after a battle to remove the blood of the slain.  Then, the woman looked over her shoulder at Taehyung. He froze in place, his shoulders jumping at him finally being noticed.

Your eyes widened as they locked onto Taehyung’s. Shocked to see him there.  Your eyes were an unusually bright colored abyss with such a dull contrasting look in them.  He wasn’t sure if he could even see his reflection if he were standing right in front of you.  

You gasped lightly as if being hit with some sort of realization before turning to face him fully. Even if you were a good 10 feet from him he flinched. More than a little bit intimidated with you still holding your broken frame piece and witnessing you pretty much kill what he would label a Feminine Frame Monster.

“You’re the one everyone is looking for…” You muttered to herself.  There was a commotion beyond the door that was hanging pathetically onto its frame.  From down the hall, scraping and screeching were heard in a humming echo. You looked over your shoulder before you moved towards Taehyung, looking at him and grabbing his bicep with little hesitation. You yanked his arm to signal that you were clearly going to be ordering him around.

Taehyung felt like a doll being pulled around by a child.  You were shorter than he expected for someone who just took out a monster as he peered over your head, like a child standing as high as possible to peek out a window. Your grasp on him loosened as you moved to grab his wrist instead.  You pulled him slightly again, snapping him out of whatever daze he was in as he finally looked at you again.

“We need to go.  More of them are coming, and unless you want to end up painting fodder, you’ll follow me.”  He looked down at you as you finally noticed the rose peeking out of his jacket pocket.  You gasped, pointing at it with your other hand that whipped around the red stained frame piece.  “Hide that!” You seethed as Taehyung’s hand immediately shoved itself into his pocket to cover the rose before she began to run out of the room, Taehyung in tow; against his will, might he add.

The halls he was being dragged through were inconsistent and almost gave him a headache. First running through purple halls, then red filled with empty black picture frames.  Zooming through green halls that had arms shooting out of them, claws skimming over Taehyung’s jacket and reaching for his rose.  He pulled it from his pocket and held it to his chest to keep it safe from anyone- thing- trying to grab it.  Finally, your running came to a stop as you swung open a door before shoving him by his shoulder. You slammed the door securely shut before locked it.  

When the door was shut, Taehyung took a moment or two to look around as he tried to regain his breath.  

He was in a blue room now.  Two bookshelves with almost nothing on them and a small table next to a violet couch.  The table held a cerulean vase on it with water filled inside almost to the point it overflowed.  On the back wall was only one giant frame with a pure white puzzle glued one the inside of it.

“A milk puzzle?” He questioned more to himself than anything else. You sighed when it was quiet and then collapsed onto the blue carpeted floor.  Catching Taehyung’s attention, he panicked as he ran to your side, kneeling beside you and debating on whether or not he should put his hand on your shoulder. You panted and pushed your forehead against the door. Hair hiding your face as it hung, falling off your heaving shoulders. “Are you.. Alright?” Taehyung asked slowly- cautiously.

You only nodded as you finally caught your breath.  Sitting up straighter, taking one last breath to even your breathing before you finally looked up at Taehyung.  He knelt higher than your head level as he confirmed that he indeed couldn’t find his reflection in your eyes he stared into.

“You’re the intruder that everyone is looking for in the Gallery, aren’t you?” She questioned.  He blinked in confusion.  

“Intruder?”

“You don’t belong here and you need to get out of here as soon as you can.  This isn’t a place for someone like you.” Taehyung wasn’t understanding anything.  You held your hand out towards him, almost asking for something.  “Your rose. You still have it right?” He nodded as he showed the rose he still held cradled to his chest. He was thankful the vine was thornless, or else his palm would have been riddled with small, painful punctures. 

For some reason, he felt like his rose would be safe with you, so he easily handed it over. You took it and looked over it’s petals.  Admiring the shade of blue, you shifted her gaze to look from beautiful azure petals and into Taehyung’s eyes.  “What’s your name?” You asked.

“Taehyung,” he answered instinctively. You nodded at the sound of it, committing it to memory. “Yours?” 

“I’m Y/n,” you curtly told him as you lifted the rose back into the conversation.  “Do you know how important this rose is?” He shook his head.  You sighed as you moved to face him fully, sat relaxed on the floor. Lifting your arm to bring you opposite hand to touch one of the petals your fingertips dusted around a single soft petal.  You held it with delicacy before your grip changed and your nails gripped and plucked it off the stem.  

Taehyung gasped, a pain shooting through his chest as his hand flew up to grip his shirt. His one-knee kneeling position changed as both knees hit the carpet. 

It felt like his heart just skipped a beat and almost seemed to stall for a moment.  Shaken up, he wasn’t sure why, but it felt almost harder to breathe?  Air came more difficult to take and his energy felt zapped.  The one petal you had pulled off fluttering to the ground at his knees.

You plucked another one, the second petal fluttering to the floor to join the first.  More pain shot through him again as he found himself bracing himself forward, the hand that wasn’t clenching around the front of his shirt, falling in front of him to join his knees on the carpet.  It felt like someone was wrapping a rope around his chest and squeezing the life out of him.  Crushing his ribs and lungs suffocating him.

“What,”  he gasped, “are you doing... to me?” He sputtered as he coughed.  He heard you move before you were at his back, picking him up and bringing him weakly to his feet.  You practically dragged him to the couch, his feet dragging on the carpet the whole way before he fell into the cushions.  

As you stood over him, you pluck another two petals off and he let out small, silent coughs of protest. Whatever you were doing, he was ready for you to stop. He really thought he was dying. 

“Watch,” you told him as the dark bags under his eyes materialized.  You walked to the crystal water-filled vase.  Taking his rose that had lost four petals already, you placed the stem over top of the vase and dropped it inside.  The stem hit the water and immediately Taehyung’s eyes widened as he watched the petals regrow right before his eyes.  

The rose seemed to glow with a calming, almost reassuring, blue hue for but a moment before the pain in his body stopped.  The pangs of hurt disappeared from within his eyes as he let go of his chest and the pain faded.  It was like the pain was just a hallucination.  You slowly withdrew the rose from the vase and handed it back to him as you move to stand in front of him. He had moved from laying in pain on the couch to sitting himself up properly.

Taehyung gently took the rose from you.  “When the rose wilts,” you start.

“So too will I…” Taehyung finishes, unsure on how he knew how to finish the phrase. It was like it was just engraved on his tongue as he said it. The dawning realization that this flower was tied to his life grew into his mind as he spun it between his thumb and forefinger.  “But, I-I don’t understand.”  He shook his head.  You moved to sit beside him, ready to answer whatever questions he has.  “What’s going on? Where the hell am I?”

“You’re in the gallery.”

“No,” he denied curtly, lifting his hand in denial.  “I was in the gallery.  Now, I’m here.”

“You were in the real gallery.  Somehow, you got sucked into this one.  The gallery you were in isn’t where you are now and frankly I don’t know how you got here.  This is a fabricated reality created from a man’s paintbrush.  A human shouldn’t be able to come here.” You got up and grabbed a small, face down picture frame from the top one of the small, dusty, bookshelves.  Bringing it back with you to the couch, you handed it to him.  

Taehyung recognized the man in the photo. “I know this artist. He died a long time ago.” Though his name escaped the young artist.  

“Guena. That’s the pen name he used in his profession.” You looked around at the small room.  “This room, and all the other rooms too.  Every painting and creature here was created by him and his desire to create souls for his non-living creations,” you told him. “But, things are different now. Everything is distorted,” you scowled.  

Just like the picture book he found.  The creations were given life by the hands of the creator then the creator died, leaving all of his ‘lives’ behind.  If that were so, then it would be no wonder why everything would begin to fall apart. It was akin to a circus without a Ring Master. Taehyung furrowed his brows before he placed the photo beside him on the cushions.

He looked up to you, into your dull eyes that somehow held the most breathtaking color.  

“How long have you been here?” He asked.

“I’ve been here since the beginning and I will remain here until the end.”  

“Do you have a rose, like I do?” He felt like he knew the answer, but nonetheless less you shook your head.  He knew what he wanted to really ask, but he didn’t know how to ask it- what words should he use?  To you, who he had just met in the most fictional turn of events that he still can’t wrap his head around.  You were nothing like him and he knew that.

“I’m a painting, Taehyung.”

When you told him the truth he was already beginning to suspect, it wouldn’t be too far fetched to say he still internally panicked.  Something that looks so human, yet wasn’t at all.  You were nothing but brush strokes and shapes somehow given life.  You probably crawled straight out of a frame too.

You saw the emotion flash through his eyes and you were almost jealous of how his eyes could change.  Unlike yours that were stuck, his could tell you a whole story without the use of words.  Anyone in this place could tell immediately he was human because of those eyes. 

In respect to him and his unease, you made sure to keep your distance.  You truly weren’t a threat.  All you wanted was for him to get out, and to get out safely.  You’ve been watching your world fall apart since Guena died.  Every creature that was alive was losing their ‘mind’ and it was only a matter of time before it started to infect you too.  It was a disease that humans didn’t need to get involved in.

“I’m going to be your escort out of here.  With your lack of reaction when in the face of danger, you’d probably get yourself killed in an instant.”  You moved back to the door where you sat on the floor, you're back against the wood as you looked at him across the room on the couch.  “You rest for now and make sure to keep your rose safe with you.  This room is safe, so you don’t need to worry about something happening.”

Then, you stopped talking.  Taehyung almost felt guilty.  You were a painting, and you couldn’t show all the emotions that the could.  You weren’t actually real after all, so it was normal to assume you had a expressional limit.  He watched as you sat against the door completely silent and still with closed eyes.  He was unsure if you were really sleeping or if you even could.  

He looked at the rose in his hands.  This rose is so important and he didn’t know how to fathom what the hell was going on. It all happened too fast and he couldn’t begin to process it all. 

He missed Namjoon as he knew that he was probably still wandering around the real gallery looking for him. He wondered if Namjoon managed to get out since he wasn’t at the front or if the lights kicked back on and he was alright.  He lifted and looked at the photo of Guena beside him again.  

It was odd.  That was the man who somehow created this world and he was also the same painter who created Leia. The painting that gave the real gallery it’s name.  Taehyung never got to see that painting in the gallery- not that he was able too see much to begin with, and he’s not so sure he wanted to at the moment.  

Taehyung was a sympathetic and empathetic person- always had been and probably always will be.  The line between the two blurred in his case.  So, when he looked at you, he felt a sense of guilt as you kept away from him.  You spoke curtly, yet kindly.  You didn’t seem to have an ulterior motive and you seemed trustworthy enough; especially compared to that framed lady from before.  

You brought him here after all. A secluded room and you didn’t attack him or take his rose.  You plucked four petals off his rose, but then turned around and healed him. You even returned it, he knew it was all to prove the point of its importance.  You weren’t going to hurt him and he believed that with his whole heavy-beating heart.  

“Y/n? Are you sleeping?”

Your eyes remained closed, but you answered. “No. I can’t.  I’m a painting, remember?”

“Okay. Then, I have a question,” he said as you slid your eyes open.  Looking at him from your place by the door.  “That thing you killed?” Did you kill it? Could paintings die?  “What was it?”

“They’re called, The Ladies.”

“They? There’s more?” Taehyung’s voice slightly quivered at the idea of more hissing, hacking, floor-crawling, psycho half ladies being out there.  

You nodded.  “What you saw was only one of many Ladies.  She was a Lady in Red.  There are also Ladies in Green and Ladies in Blue.  They’re more common than most.  About as common as mannequins.”

“Excuse me? Mannequins?” You looked at him as a shiver ran up his body.  Goosebumps littered his covered skin.  “I fucking hate mannquins,” he seethed unconsciously to himself.  The look he put on his face was that of disgust and pure anguish and yet somehow twisted into an almost comical look.  You almost smirked at his foul language and facial cues.

Your smirk twisted and soon you burst out into laughter at his face that just seemed so comical to you.  A face someone like you couldn’t pull off because you were fake.  He looked at you as you laughed at him.  The tension that was in the air seemed to be shattered like a nail being driven into a pane of glass.  Soon, Taehyung was laughing at you laughing at him.  Your fit ended as you smiled and shook your head, calming down.  

Taehyung was more than happy to try and get a small nap in now that he knew that you weren’t completely devoid of emotion.  Someone, fake or not, who can laugh and smile like that surely wasn’t a bad person.  

-x-x-x-

Taehyung was startled from his small rest when a tremor shook the room.  Panicking as he sat straight, rim-rod up, you were already on your feet and looking at the door.  You half expected something to charge inside, even when this place was supposed to be somewhere to rest up and be away from any sort of harm. Taehyung flung his legs off the sofa and stood up so quickly he had a wave of dizziness hit him as he held his head and staggered.  Shaking it off, he was at your side, standing just a step behind you.

“What the hell is that?” He lightly asked, like if he was too loud something would hear him.  You just flexed your arm, the hand around the hardened piece of art frame you kept continuing to wield tightening.  “It feels like the ground is moving,” he looked down at his feet.  Like the carpet beneath him was beating in microbursts.

“It’s a distortion wave.  This happens the weaker this world gets and that means it’s only going to get that much worse outside.” You looked at him. “I hope you have some strength in those arms of yours, because you might have to use it.” Taehyung hated the thought of violence, even if it was against figuratively inanimate objects that weren’t supposed to exist . They weren’t alive, but they were still able to die.  His toes curled at the thought of it. You saw the unease in his eyes before looked back at the door, rotating your wrist and twisting around your weapon. “Just stick close to me and run like your life depends on it.”

The lack of an additional ‘because it will’ was an approved choice on Taehyung’s ears.

You opened the door and outside it was a madhouse.  Even more paintings coming alive.  Some stuck in their frames as they clawed at the air and hissed.  Distorted in sharp and blurred strokes as they swiped.  Ghastly hands and objects plunged from walls and hung from the ceiling.  Mannequins moved far faster than previously and he could hear the hissing and scraping of frames on the floor from the Ladies as they drug themselves across the floor like lethal roaches.

You bolted out of the safe room, Taehyung hot on your heels as he stayed immediately behind you.  You dashed down halls, staying in the center away from the walls and anything reaching for you.  You kept Taehyung at your side, pulling him to and fro away from anything that could harm him if he got too close.  You rounded corners in rushed steps or slides as Taehyung occasionally grabbed the back of your overalls to keep you from skidding into the walls from your unstoppable momentum. You swung and hacked at anything that came close and kept them at bay the best you could with your frame.

Taehyung pointed ahead of you, a set of doors ahead.  

“Go into one of those!” He wasn’t sure where he got off telling you where to go. Especially since he was literally the worse qualified person to do so. You didn’t seem to argue back though, so he continued. “The, uh, the yellow one!” He yelled over the chaos.  You just looked back at him slightly over your shoulder, brows creased.

“Which one is the yellow one?!”  You shouted as he slightly stumbled before he grabbed your wrist and took off, running faster and ahead of you before he stopped at a door of brilliant yellow, pulled it open and pushed you inside, slamming it closed. The room was empty save for a single mirror on the back wall.  Thankfully, yellow seemed to be a pretty safe choice.

Taehyung could always trust yellow. 

“Y/n,” he called as he still held your wrist in his hand and you were hunched over.  You weren’t alive, but you seemed unwell.  “What’s wrong?” He looked at the skin under his hand that showed with the fabric of your long sleeve pushed up your wrist.  He gasped silently when he saw it’s complexion shift into a distortion of ugly, muddle colors before vanishing as quickly as it came.  “What was that?” He shook his head. “No, hold on.  Different question.  Can you not see color?”

“No, I can’t.” You stood back up, yanking your wrist out of his grip.  You looked at your skin as you hissed.  The distortion was starting to hit you and the stages would eventually progress into a problem- but he didn’t need to know that.  “I was painted as portrait by a lonely, selfish painters.  He didn’t think to give me the ability to see color so, I can’t see colors or tell them apart.” You shook your wrist out. “Is that a problem?” 

Taehyung jolted. You were clearly touchy on the topic. He cleared his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Uh, well not really . I guess if you have me, I can point out colors for the both of us.  Why didn’t you tell me you were colorblind though?  It would’ve been pretty useful to know before we started running for our lives through some fucked-up haunted house reality check.”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.” You sighed.  You had made it this far without relying on the colors you couldn’t tell apart.  Why would now be any different?  You couldn’t even see the color your body or clothes were- if they had color to them at all. For all you knew, you were all black and white and grey. You walked to the back wall and stood in front of the mirror there, frowning as Taehyung came up behind you.  He was as black and white as you were in your eyes.  

“So, you can’t see any color?” He touched his shirt, opened his jacket and pulled his headband.  He pulled your hair up dramatically and motioned to yourself as a whole in the mirrors reflection. “Nothing at all?”

“Nothing at all,” you confirmed.  “I can conceive the idea of colors, but I’ve never had a proper need to see or tell them apart.  I know when something is a threat and I know when something is not. That’s all that really matters here.” Your indifference was something Taehyung- a painter- couldn’t comprehend.  What kind of painting can’t see their own colors? Wouldn’t that be painful or frustrating at the very least?

“Your shirt is yellow and white,” Taehyung spoke. You looked at his reflection with raised brows.  “Your overalls are faded and nearly ruined, but they’re dark blue and your boots are brown.  Your hair is really pretty and your eyes are too.” He described your outfit to you like you were a child, but he meant well. 

Just saying the color of your clothes didn’t help you grasp the concept of what it really looked like aside from the range of grey and white and black you saw through your eyes. “Maybe that doesn’t matter, but I thought you’d like to at least now,” he muttered.

“Thanks,” you told him quickly as you pulled at your sleeves, fixing and adjusting them to cover your arms properly again.  So, that light shade of grey- nearly white- was yellow? “I've never actually learned what color is what to my eyes,” you told him.  “It’s nice knowing at least one color,” you whispered more to yourself than anything.

So, it did bother you. Taehyung felt something swell like pride in his chest as he was acting the role of teacher.

If it were any other situation and if you were a person instead of a painting, he’d be glad to teach you all the colors he could. He felt it was his duty as an artist- freelance or not- to educate those about all the corners of art.  However, you weren’t real and he wasn’t at home in his studio, but in a haunted gallery of danger.  

Taehyung stepped away from you as he made his way back to the front of the room and the yellow door. He put his ear to the door, not hearing much of anything outside anymore. He hoped that you and he were able to give them the slip- as obvious as a tactic as that was. When he tried the doorknob, however, it didn not twist.  Jammed or locked, he knocked his forehead against the yellow wood in frustration.

“Of course,” he groaned before he turned to see you still standing in front of the mirror in the back of the room.  “Y/n, the door is locked. Unless we have another way out, we’re stuck in here.” He announced, making his way back to you as you seemed to finally break out of your own reflection and look around.  

“There’s got to be something we can trigger to open the door or another way out.  Just look around,” you told him.  You started wandering the room, but Taehyung only stood still, crippling his chin in thought and tapping his toes.  The room was completely empty, what could he possibly miss if nothing was in the room except a single, wall mounted mirror?

He thought of all the cheesy cliches like a floor tile trigger or a secret compartment in one of the four walls of ht boxed room.  However, he wasn’t sure if he had the patience to test out those ideas. 

Taehyung stood in front of the mirror, looking at his own reflection that scowled back towards him in thought.  He scurried away from the mirror in a haste as he yelped when the glass cracked.  Splitting down the center in crooked, ugly cracks and small splinters of glass falling from the mirror.  Your ear picked up on the continuous cracking of the mirror’s glass, unlike Taehyung and before he knew what was happening, you were yanking on his shirt and jacket collar. He choked slightly at you pulling him away from it completely as it shattered.

Bursting from the inside out, glass shot forward before raining down to the hard tile of the room.  What was left behind wasn’t the wall behind the mirror, but a matte black door with a sign hanging on the center of it. 

‘PASSAGE’

“Is that our way out?” He asked skeptically as he stood back up and brushed off his clothes of any stray shards that clung to him.  Looking back, the yellow door you both had rushed through had disappeared.  Nothing, but this black door and the walls remained.  He huffed. “Guess that answers that, huh. Wha- hey!” He called as you had already started opening the black door to enter it.  “What if it’s dangerous in there?!”

“There’s no other option,” you told him, pushing the door open before stepping into the same, thick blackness the door represented.  “Stay here if you’re so scared,” you sarcastically teased as you stepped inside. Unsurprisingly, the artist was hot on your tail inside.

The two of you walked through the black hall that stretched from the door you both entered, Taehyung behind you as he grew in more in nerves.  There were no lights and the light front he doorway was long gone behind his back.  He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face and he felt like he was losing his mind.

He could only hear your footsteps, his footsteps and the sound of your sharpened frame weapon dragging across the ground that you had taken from your belt loop as soon as the darkness became thick enough to warrant a twinge worry.

The air in the ever stretching corridor became so thick it was hard to catch his breath as he moved to grab your wrist for guidance.  Then, giggling began echoing from every direction.  Bouncing off what might be a nearby walls and drilling directly into his head. Giggling that mimicked creepy doll sound effects in horror movies, only so much worse. You, unsurprisingly, weren’t phased by the verbal taunts- Taehyung, however, was.

You could feel the trembles in his fingers around the wrist of yours he held so tightly.  You twisted your wrist, freeing it from his grasp for a moment and you could physically feel his panic the moment his fingertips left your skin. He was quick to calm down when you shot your arm back and grabbed around his hand instead.

Taehyung only grew more and more nervous as the darkness didn’t seem to end.  There was nothing in front of him or behind him to act as a beacon of any sort of hope that it would eventually come to a brightly lit finish.  Not even your presence he knew was there was any comfort to him.  It felt like the darkness was ebbing away at his sanity and choking him. 

In the midst of his silent anxiety, he thought he felt something whisper along the back of his neck.  He let out a small, strangled noise of startled protest as he unconsciously ripped his hand away and out of yours.  His panic set in tenfold now that he had no idea where you were anymore.  

He reached out in front of him in a frenzied panic as he waved his arms around in front of himself like a crazy person. He was sure if he was in light or if someone could see him, they’d think him completely bat-shit insane.  No matter where he reached or how hard he searched, he couldn’t find you. He couldn’t even hear you anymore.

Your footsteps were gone along with the frame dragging and he couldn’t hear anything aside from his own hiccuped gasps of air.  A horrible humming filled his ears and he quickly brought his palms up to the sides of his head, covering his ears to try and block out the noise.  It only seemed to intensify though, as if he had cupped around the humming and shoved it directly against his eardrums.

His knees wobbled and his footing staggered before his knees finally hit the ground.  The hard ground that was below his feet changed the moment his knees collided with it.  

Water was running along the hard ground that now felt like tile. If he ran his fingers along the floor, he would be able to trace the groves of cement and glue holding the pieces of breakable flooring together. He wasn’t able to properly process it in the overwhelming state of mind he was currently becoming more and more trapped in.  

The water that seeped into his pants drew higher and higher before engulfing his knees, thighs and eventually coming to reach his waist. His hands stayed covered over his ears as he shuttered and shook his head back and forth- trying to chalk it all up as another nightmare.  He’d wake up on another couch any moment in a room that you had taken him too.  This was just his mind playing trick on him- wasn’t it? 

The humming grew louder and louder before it went completely silent. The shift in noise to nothing was too sudden; uncomfortably sudden.  He should be relieved that the horrible, horrible sound that drilled into his head had stopped, but he was only accompanied by the newfound silence with a chill running up his spine and staying in the base of his neck .

Taehyung couldn’t move.  He shook and trembled, waist deep in cold water.

Was this what insanity felt like? Was he really losing his mind?

Then he remembered.  He was finally able to move again when he remembered his rose.  The flower that was somehow keeping him up and kicking. He moved his hands from his ears and began to frantically pat around his body.  His chest, his hips and thighs. In and out of pockets. He couldn’t find it.  He thought he had already reached his maximum panic level, but he was oh so wrong.  

He lost his rose and he felt like he was near his breaking point.  He hated that it affected him so much in both a mental and physical sense. Taehyung had normally defined himself as a more or less tough person to break down in more cases. 

He hardly had time to adjust to the life threatening new world he found himself in with art coming to life to kill him. Not to mention that his life was tied to a blue flower and he was dependent on a painting for safety.  

Taehyung was literally walking through his own personal nightmare. Who wouldn’t start losing their marbles after all that? 

His ducked down head shot up when he thought he heard something drop into the flooded flooring. He swore he heard the water ripple as it sounded like someone was walking, or dragging their feet through the water.  The sound of moving water echoed and he couldn’t pinpoint from which direction whatever was around him was moving.  Then the water pushed up his legs like something pushed the water towards him and he froze again.

He felt a breath blow against his forehead, his hair blowing in small, annoying strands that tickled his eyebrows and forehead. Whatever was wading in the water beforehand, was now right in front of him.

His mouth opened like he was going to scream, but nothing came out before the room erupted in bright lights.  He flinched under the extreme difference, the humming coming back to drill into his skull as fluorescent lights lined the ceiling above him.

When he was able to pry his eyes open, they glued themselves open at the sight of the creature in front of him.  It was… he couldn’t even begin to explain what it was.  

It looked like it had the basic shape of a person, but the limbs were far too long and lanky and it was engulfed in a thick looking, black tar that oozed and dripped from it’s appendages.  It’s head was also shaped like a humans, but turned completely sideways. The side of it’s head parallel with the floor as that same, thick blackness dripped from it’s chin that pointed directly to the left.  The mouth was nothing but a white circle in the middle of its face with black dripping between it’s ‘lips’ like jail bars.  

Whatever it was, it was horribly ugly and Taehyung thought his mind was distorting. The space around the creature seemed crackly- like tv static.  

The artist couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t flee.  He couldn’t even scream.  But it could. It could move, it could groan and moan, it could scream.  And it did.  

The mouth opened further into an elongated oval and a set of eyes showed themselves in small, crescents with the ends pointing to the left towards their chin on their crooked head.  The shrill shriek it let out made Taehyung’s bones rattle under his skin, like someone had just run a xylophone stick across his ribs.

It had brought it’s long, thin, dripping arms up as it seemed to ready lunge at the young, fear-stricken artist.  It screeched once more before it began to lunge, but it was immediately stopped in it’s tracks before it could do any sort of physical harm.  

The screech was cut short, as the head- in fact- the entire torso of the creature was pushed down by something.  It fell face first into the water at Taehyung’s knees as a long, golden strip of a picture frame stuck out of the back of it’s head.  

Red paint leaked out of the creatures head as it lay still and motionless in the water, dying the flooded area a shade of crystal pink. The smell wasn’t what he expected- what he expected to smell like iron, blood and death instead smelt of a flower shop, honey and lemonade.  The monster with a frame in the back of it’s head smelt like summer. 

Was it… dead?

Then he heard more footsteps, however with the lights on and eyes properly adjusted now, he could see exactly where they were coming from and who.  It turns out that somehow he had made it into a room- a small cube area that had no windows and only one door that was now thrown open.  Through that door, your body was slouched against the frame out of breath- once again ironic since you weren’t alive- and dripping blue drops of paint from your chin.

He was speechless- no longer from fear, but from shock.  

You wadded through the pink water to stand in front of him.  You turned to the creature you had just taken down by hurling your frame piece at it and quickly pulled the frame out.  Red spurt from the wound like a pathetic, paint-filled fountain. Before long, it was simply oozing and rolling off the skull of the creature into the water before it started to completely fade away like ash.

You looked back to Taehyung who had disappeared previously from your grasp and you knelt in front of him. Waving your hand in front of his face, he didn’t respond.  You looked down and around him to see his hand stuck on the inside of his jacket- like he had stopped looking for something mid-search.  

“Tae-”

“Rose,” he whispered urgently, interrupting you.  You gently dug into the small pouch you had on your side- where you got that, he wasn’t sure- and before a moment longer passed, blue petals were shown in his line of sight.  That seemed to finally start to snap him out of it.  “That’s my,” he whispered, the rest of his words dying on his tongue.

“You dropped it earlier when you let go of my hand,” you told him.  You gently took his hand from the inside of his jacket and placed the flower delicately inside his palm.  “You need to take better care of that if you want to get out of here.”

One, small tear fell from his eye before he was throwing his arms around your shoulders and pulling you towards him.  Your face fell into his shoulder as you felt him shake around you. You raised your arms tentatively and started to pat at his back awkwardly.  

“Don’t worry,” you shushed, as you stared at the back wall. You could hear the ashy pieces of the creature disengerate behind your back as his tremors quelled to shivers and soon he was still and his breath wasn’t ragged anymore.  He had calmed himself down as he squeezed you against his chest.

“Thank you,” he breathed.

-x-x-x-

Once Taehyung was able to move again without shaking or fearing for his safety and he had properly calmed down, you led him out of the room he had been trapped in.  Going down another long hall with nothing but lights lining the walls, he briefly stopped at a plaque on the wall next to another door.  This door wasn’t colorful or odd- it looked so ordinary it stood out among the bright purple hall he stood in.

“Gallery ahead,” he muttered, reading aloud as the sighed at the plaque that had an arrow pointing ahead beyond the door.  

Opening the door, there was no noise and all was quiet.  Taehyung followed you as he looked around.  

True to the plaque, it really was just another portion of the gallery.  Proper paintings on the walls with names below it, statues sectioned off with rope and dividers, mantles with busts- it too looked like an authentic, ordinary gallery.  The door you both passed through shut with a soft click as he looked behind at it still jumpy from earlier on. He was thankful it didn’t slam at least.

The floors were tile and shining like they had just been cleaned and waxed.  The walls were covered in a boring, but oddly suiting wallpaper fit for an aged art gallery while chandeliers hung along the ceiling lighting the place in a soft, glowing light.

“This is a nice break from the rest of the place,” Taehyung told you, catching up to your back as you were making your way through the place.  He came to walk beside you, looking at your eyes that couldn’t see any color.

“It is a section of the world that hasn’t been touched too badly by the distortion. If anything is alive here, it shouldn’t be a threat,” you assured him.  The fact you had put away your makeshift weapon put him further at ease.  He looked back and forth at the walls lined with art.  

This was what he was hoping to experience coming into the real gallery today.

Just browsing around to try and spark something in him to create something new.  To inspire him- not threatening his very life after sucking him into an actual nightmare world. He briefly jumped when a painting of a black cat blinked before it stretched and jumped right out of it’s canvas. He meowed up at him as he rubbed against his leg before scampering off somewhere else.  His padding paw steps disappearing down the hall.

Taehyung almost smiled at that.

The two of you walked in silence, the only sound in the gallery was the sound of both of your footsteps and the occasional sound of harmless art brought to life.  Taehyung stared at your back as you walked ahead of him and he began to wonder.  He wondered about a lot.

He wondered what would happen to you when he managed to get out of this place.  What would happen if he tried to maybe take you with him? Could you survive outside this place since you weren’t really born?  Would this gallery even exist when he leaves it or would it cease to be?

He stopped in his tracks he he caught himself. Why was he even thinking about taking you with him? 

The young artist was ripped from his thoughts when he saw your body jerk forward before you were staggering on your feet then falling to your knees on the tiled floors of the peaceful part of the gallery.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath as he jogged up behind you.  He placed his hand on the middle of your back as he knelt beside you and dipped his head down to try and catch a glimpse of your face. “Y/n, hey!” He called as your body shook and heaved like you were a living breathing person in the midst of a breathing fit.  You were a painting with a soul, but not really alive so did you breathe? He found himself asking that to himself way too often.  

He shook his head- that wasn’t the thought he needed to overthink right now. “What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he tried coaxing you.

You just shook your hand towards him; whether to shut him up or shoo him away he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t move from your side regardless.  When your arm raised, he saw beneath your sleeve a sort of discoloration. It was just like what he saw earlier in the mirror room.  

He took your wrist in his hand as he pushed your sleeve up when you suddenly fell into him. He jolted as he rolled you to lay on your side- your head lolling off in a way that looked uncomfortable with your shoulder pushing into the ground. He lifted your head, putting it on his leg to try and help you at least a bit.  

You twitched as he examined your skin. It looked like your arm was covered in a horrific bruise.  Ugly splotches of black, blue, purples, greens and yellows engulfed your arm like a tattoo sleeve gone horribly wrong. His brows dipped as he looked at the rest of your arm before he looked at the other.  It was the same thing, but not nearly as severe in terms of color and blotches.  It was like it was spreading.  

“What the hell?” He murmured as you seemed to be calming down.  You pushed yourself of his leg to lay on your back on the ground as your chest stopped heaving and you stopped twitching.  You closed your eyes, focusing on coming back down from whatever attack had ailed you and before too much longer, you were forcing yourself to sit up again. 

Taehyung sat beside you, slowly drawing his hand back and away from you as you pushed your sleeve back down to cover your ruined skin.  He narrowed his eyes at you as you looked back at him.  For someone who wasn’t really alive, you seemed to have bags under your eyes.  Something was straining you and you weren’t telling him about it.

“So?” He asked with a sharp tone as you just returned his word with a sigh as an answer.  He wanted an explanation and he wanted it sooner rather than later.

“It’s not-”

“Tell me or I’m gonna annoy you continuously until you give in. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

You ticked your eyebrow up at him. “You’re threatening me? You realized I’m the one who’s been taking down everything that has attacked us so far, right?”

“It’s not a threat,” he promised as he crossed his arms sitting on the floor. He looked like a child.  In the end you let out another defeated sigh. There would be no point in arguing with him.  He’d probably run you in verbal circles until he got his way anyway.

“You know how the rest of the gallery is corrupted, you’ve seen it. Everything in this world that is art is affected.” You grabbed the sleeve of your arm as you sat more comfortably.  “Just because I’m fighting against it now, doesn’t mean I’m uneffected.  It’s a distortion that affects the arts- good or bad- and we can’t do anything about it. I’m just stubborn.”

Taehyung sat for a moment before opening his mouth again.

“So, you’re going to turn bad too?” He asked timidly.

“It’s unfortunate, but inevitable.”

“That’s crazy,��� he whispered to the floors when his chin dipped down.  He groaned as he brought his hand up to ruffle his lightly colored hair.  You had been protecting him ever since you found him and now there’s a chance you could turn against him too? That was just crazy. You wouldn’t just turn on him like that, right? It’d be gradual and not just flipping a switch from sane to insane, right?

He was pulled from his thoughts again when you moved to stand and he quickly mirrored your actions to stand in front of you.  His arms hovered around your waist and back in order to catch you if you happened to fall again.

“Whatever happens, we just need to get you out of here as soon as possible.  If we find the exit quickly, we can get you out before I completely lose it.” You turned, ready to start walking off again to explore further when Taehyung shot his hand out and caught your arm.

“Wait!” He shouted, the echoes of his voice bouncing off the white walls adorned with art that wasn’t malicious.  “Will you be okay?” He asked even though he really knew the answer.  You had just told him that you were going to eventually turn from who you are now to someone else- one way or the other.

You smiled at him, trying your best to reassure him but didn’t offer him a verbal answer.  You slowly pulled his hand off you before you were telling him to follow you.  His arm dropped back to his side slowly as he looked at your back with sad eyes.  

He didn't know what hurt worse; the fact that you basically just told him ‘no’ or the fact that you didn’t say anything for him to understand because even if your eyes are just strokes of paint, they held so much in them and it twisted his gut.  

Taehyung wasn’t very fond of the idea that he had to leave the peaceful atmosphere of the white gallery and go back out into the one that actively tried to kill him.  His rose was safe in the zipped pocket inside his jacket as opposed to the outside pockets at his sides. He watched before he began to follow you once again.  

The drastic difference between the white, bright gallery and the dark, dim, purple backlight one just from passing through a door still through him for a loop each time he went through another passageway.  He stopped trying to guess what kind of room he’d be going into, because he’d probably guess wrong every time if he did. 

You stayed on guard with your picture frame piece and he stood beside you-more ready to throw down with a sculpture than before- even if he still didn’t want to. He’d tell you what colors were where and lead you in directions if you asked if a certain color was around.  

He briefly wondered how you managed to get around before he got there with your inability to see color, but then he stopped thinking about it because if you just went into a room that was filled with a problem- you probably just got rid of it.  You were more than capable, you’ve proved that more than enough by this point.

“Taehyung,” you called from ahead of him. He had been so lost in thought his steps had slowed down and he was further back away from you than he knew.  “Don’t lag behind.”

“Oh, right,” he called before he was jogging back to your side.  Following you through a doorway, he wasn’t as shocked as he should have been to see a room that was dark with only a trunk inside of it.  Walking in, you stepped up to it before you tapped it with your frame piece to see if something was inside.  

There was only silence before the lid of it burst open.  

You jolted, stepping in front of Taehyung as he raised his hand instinctively to maybe try and throw a punch at whatever might leap out of it, but nothing came out.  The lid bounced against the back of the trunks frame. The inside of it looked like a pink cloud- it wasn’t empty, just unsettlingly pink.  It was like cotton candy or maybe something thicker like thread that could trap you if you touched it.

“What-,” you started before you were yelping into direct fight or flight.  The still pinkness in the trunk jolted before it shot out like sentient strings and separated into long, thick arms of darkened red that wrapped around you and Taehyung’s bodies.  

Your backs were forced together and to your misfortune, your frame was knocked from your hand and clattered to the ground.  The thick strands of red wrapped tightly around your midsections and squeezed as it entangled around your legs and arms and even around your forehead to keep you completely still. Immobilizing the two of you, it then started to slowly reel you in.  

Your feet dragged across the ground and your toes lifted up and off the ground at some point as Taehyung was left to keep fumbling over his own feet.  He wouldn’t fall no matter how tangled his feet got since he was bound and tied so tightly.

The pair of you were stopped in front of the trunk that seemed to bulge in size- like it was taking into account the size of two people before you were swallowed into the cloud of pink turned red.  The sound of the trunks lid slammed above you both boomed like thunder before you were falling.  

It felt weightless, but you could feel the wind rushing past you as you were sure you were coming closer to hitting the ground.  

It was pitch black all around, but you felt Taehyung reach for you- now freed from the strands of red thread that had encased you both. You felt him wrap his arms around your shoulders from in front of you.  His chest pushed against yours before his weight overcame your own and he was falling first in front of you.

The fall wasn’t long and it didn’t feel like enough to particularly kill a person, but when the two of you hit the ground with Taehyung bracing the fall you were quick to shoot up from his chest as he groaned laying on his back.  

“Are you stupid?!” You scolded as he winced both from your shrieks and the pain of the fall. He sat up, rubbing his back as he just weakly laughed.  

“Yeah, so?” Your eye twitched at his lame excuse for a joke at a time like this. As he recovered from his fall and came back to his senses that weren’t cloaked in sensitive fall-stricken shock, you looked around to where exactly you two fell.  

It looked like you were pulled into a child’s coloring book.  Scratchy, uneven lines of what looked to be crayon or oil chalks were used to make up houses, roads and not too far from you both was a mass of uneven, patchy blue chalk that you assumed was a lake of sorts from its size.  It was dark, but it was lit with small patchy lights lining walls or suspending overhead like floating light bulbs.

You made it to your feet after you helped Taehyung, grabbing his hand and offering your shoulder for him to lean on.  He graciously took it and you were quick to ask if his rose was alright.  He dug it out of the inside pocket of his jacket and showed it to you.  A petal or two were missing, but you assumed it was caused from the fall.  

No wonder he hurt so much, you mentally noted with an eye roll; his rose was damaged.  

You looked around and peered over the chalked created houses.  Maybe if you investigated inside one of them, you’d find a vase for him to use to restore his rose petals.  You hiked his arm over your shoulder for a more firm grasp on his body's weight on you.

“Alright, first things first,” you started as you got his attention. “We need to find a vase with water to get your rose to grow.  That should take the pain away.” He muttered in agreement before both of you walked- ambled- off.  

Walking with a body hanging off you was a lot harder than you initially though it would be.  He would walk the best he could, but the injury and loss of his petals were obviously affecting him more than he was willing to let on. 

The first house you both entered was a small one outlined in pink chalk and inside was just one big open room with a drawn, blue couch, a table and a coat rack.  On the table was a vase, but it was empty.  If it wasn’t all black and white to you, maybe you would have found the place almost charming in it’s own way- but it was just dull.

You quickly moved Taehyung to the couch and told him to stay put.  Taking the vase you left the house and quickly moved down the chalked, dirt road down the lake you saw.  Maybe you could put some of the fake water into the vase and just somehow make it work, who knows.

Making it to the lake, you knelt and dipped the vase into the mass of blue as it filled the vase.  Your arm twitched before it was jerked and convulsed with it’s own corruption again and the vase slipped from your fingers for just a moment- but that moment was enough to lose it in the chalky blue mass of scribbles.  

Without much thought, you dove into the water, quickly snatched it back and as fast as possible swam and pulled yourself out of the mass before anything that could possibly be in the lake even thought about grabbing you.  

You huffed in annoyance as your clothes were dusted with chalk and even though it wasn’t real water- you felt damp.  You shook out your sleeves before you got to your feet and went back to Taehyung who was waiting in the house you left him laying on the couch with heavy breaths.

When he saw you, his eyebrow quirked.

“What’re you covered in? Dust?” He asked as you just shook your head, kneeling at the couch side and replacing the vase filled with vibrant blue on the table again.  

“Forget about it. Give me your rose, please.” your hand was outstretched and waiting as he quickly pulled it out and handed it to you. You hesitantly placed the stem into the water and let it sink as the blooms of the petals rested against the rim of the vase.  You heard Taehyung sigh as if his pain was floating away and to your relief, two petals grew once again. “Thank goodness that actually worked,” you sighed.

Taehyung chuckled beside you. “Yeah, no kidding.  That was all assumption- if that had taken more petals off, I think I would’ve passed out or something.”

“You mangled to take four petals of damager before,” you told him. “Besides, you weren’t that injured,” you told him as you took the rose back out of the vase and handed it to him to replace in his jacket. “You just don’t know how to take a fall.”

“Excuse me,” he scoffed in disbelief. “Who was the one who took the brunt of that fall, huh?” He sat up and crossed his arms like a child pouting. “A thank you would be nice to hear, you know.”

Your lips tilted in a smile as you moved to stand up and stretched your arms across your chest.  You felt helpless without your frame piece that you had lost before you wound up here with the young, human artist.  Looking at him like this, you wouldn’t think he’d be in as much danger as he is.  He was in a whole different dimension with enemies at his back almost constantly, but here he was pouting for a ‘thank you’.  You chuckled.

“Thank you, Taehyung,” you told him. You weren’t sure if it was the dim lights or maybe your vision going because of your own distorting body, but you thought you saw the blank shade of his skin to your eyes darken.  Like color had possibly bloomed over his cheeks.

He cleared his throat before you could ask and he was getting up off the couch, walking to the door of the house. He was ready to leave, but stopped short.  You came up behind him and opened your mouth to ask him what the problem was when he spun around and shushed you.  He pushed you back and led you behind the couch, crouching down and covering you with himself as you both hid.

You had no idea what he thought he heard, but you kept quiet before you heard the door of the house you both were in squeak open.  You looked at Taehyung as he looked up, focusing on listening for any indication of someone coming closer to your hiding place.  

You racked your brain trying to think of what or who could be following you both.  Had someone been inside the trunk before you and had seen you at the lake? You weren’t sure.  You heard them pad into the house before they stopped and then a crash sounded through the walls of the room. The footsteps then walked back out of the room and the door slammed shut.  

Taehyung and you stared at each other, still remaining silent for a few more moments before determining you were safe. He let out a breath as he peeked over the couch first and scanned the room.  There was no one.  

“It’s clear,” he whispered as he stood up and moved away from you as you stood up next to him.  Your brows dipped as you saw the vase you had just used to heal Taehyung’s rose shattered into pieces with splashes of blue- grey to your eyes- dusted around the table top and blew onto the floor.  

You looked at the door with a narrowed gaze.  Just what was that? Could something you didn’t know about be wandering around? Then again, even you didn’t know everything there is to know about this gallery. 

“I think we need to hurry,” you muttered, Taehyung quickly agreed as you both scurried out of the house.  The two of you walked along the dusty, chalk paths before you were stepping up a set of stairs back into a proper gallery. It led to a section that you recognized. You started walking with ease, knowing what was where in this section and Taehyung took notice of that.  

“Do you know where we are? I mean, you’ve known a good part of where we’ve been, but I mean-”

“This is my section of the gallery. My frame is hanging around here, so yes I know it.” You told him, interrupting his rambling for an answer to his question.

“Your frame?”

“Yes. You know I’m just a painting. The frame I was placed in and the frame I came out of is around here.”

“Can I see it?” He asked without much thinking before you stopped and turned to him.  He almost slapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from saying anything else without a filter before you turned on your heel and started off around a corner. “Y/n! Wait!”

“You wanted to see my frame, didn’t you?” You popped your head back around the corner to motion him to follow after you and he did so.  He trailed you- just as he had been- and eventually you took him to a deadend hall.  At the end of it, on the wall facing the rest of the narrow corridor, was an empty frame. “This is it,” you told him, motioning to it with as little care as you would as if you were showing off a bag of dog food.

The frame was silver and engraved with all sorts of weaves across it.  It was sturdy and not undamaged.  The glass of the frame was broken; however it must’ve been broken from the inside if the evidence of the glass at his feet was anything to go by. You must have burst from the inside out and created the glass mess in front of it.  The plaque under the frame read ‘Leia’ as the young artist looked back to you with wide eyes.

“You’re Leia?” He asked. At the discovery he had a pang of small guilt in his stomach from thinking earlier on that he didn’t even want to see the painting since the rest of the gallery was out for his blood. You blinked at him as you nodded simply.

“That was my title when I was created, but I was given a new name because I was granted a soul and free will within this dimension.” You crossed your arms. “Why does it matter what my art piece name is?”

“It's just that the gallery I came from was named after you,” he told you. “I guess I just never expected you to be the last piece of art from someone- not that it’s a bad thing!” He defended at the unimpressed look in your painted eyes. “It was the discovery of that painting that gave my gallery the name it has. You’re like the main centerpiece of everything.”

You looked blankly at your empty frame.  

“I doubt that the ‘Leia’ in the real gallery is like me. I may be ‘Leia’, but I’m more Y/n. It sounds ridiculous, but that painting isn’t me.” You softly traced the silver frame with your fingers before you were turning around again. “Come on, we’ve wasted enough time. No more detours.”

Taehyung was quick to chase after you but he couldn’t think of a thing to say to you.  He wanted to talk to fill the silence that gaped between the two of you.  Taehyung kept telling himself that he had no reason to try and figure you out, you were a painting for God’s sake.  What could he possibly want to know?

Other than everything.

He wondered about a great many things and couldn’t help but overthink what you may or may not have been through.  How did you feel about this world? Did you consider it home or maybe a sort of prison you were unfortunately born into. How did this world look to your colorless eyes? Just how did it feel being a painting exactly? 

When you were ‘born’ and thrust into a world that was already starting to collapse, how did you survive? Did you fight from the beginning, or not? He wanted to ask all these questions, but he knew that he wouldn’t. It wasn’t his place to ask anyway- this world isn’t his and you weren’t even human.

Taehyung followed behind you as a feeling in his gut started to bloom. He raised his hand to his stomach and palmed it through his shirt as his steps slowed and he watched you ever so slowly get further ahead of him.  He felt like he couldn’t do this without answers.  So, he acted idiotically and moronically and selfishly.  

Without you realizing, you got separated from Taehyung once again- only this time on purpose.  The next time you turned around to check on why he was so silent, you stopped in your tracks not seeing him around you.  

“Dammit,” you seethed.

-x-x-x-

Taehyung had back tracked all the way to your empty portrait frame.  He stood in front of it once more as his fingers traced the letters of your plaque. The letters spelling out ‘Leia’ in fine script before he was tracing the frame itself.

He felt selfish for wanting to know about you- a painting- and keeping himself here in a world that actively tried to kill him longer than he needed to be. He scoffed at himself, his mind remembering how he had judged the artist in the book he had read before and how the artist got attached to something like a painting. 

“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black,” he chided to himself.  

He needed to go home and although he understood that, he wanted to know more about the living painting that had been protecting him up until this point.  The same painting who was slowly getting infected with some weird, paint disease that could turn you against him at the drop of a pen.

He knew he was pressed for time. Time was precious, but he couldn’t help but feel like you were too.

Taehyung inspected the black emptiness of the frame that you had come from and reached his hand out.  His hand jerked back when the pads of his fingers weren’t met with the sturdy wall that the frame hung on.  Instead, the blackness encased by the silver frame rippled like murky water.  It was like a pool of ink as he reached out to it again and started to sink his hand into it further.

He wondered how deep that ink went, how far could he reach inside before it stopped him.  Could he be able to submerge himself fully into it, or maybe crawl into the frame like a painting himself.  

“But then, what would that accomplish?” He questioned himself with a half-sarcastic attitude. However, even if he knew it was more than likely fruitless, he started to climb inside anyways.  The frame was big, so he had no problem with grabbing the edges of the frame, lifting his leg over the bottom ledge of it and heaving himself inside the blackness.  

He braced himself, feeling like it would feel like that monster from before that encased him in terror as it threatened his very life.  However, this blackness wasn’t like before.  It was dark and felt endless, but it lacked the deep pit of dread that the monster had.  It felt like something- but he couldn’t place exactly what.

Loneliness maybe? Or perhaps a bittersweet sort of feeling; like being free, yet not being as free as a true human being.  He walked around aimlessly in the blackness, feeling less and less like he was walking on the floor.  He started feeling weightless, like he was walking on air.

There was clearly no end where he was, and he wasn’t so sure if he really wanted there to be.  A light at the end of the tunnel? That wouldn’t apply in this situation and he knew that perfectly well. Or, he thought that would be the case.  From behind him, he started to feel something close by, like the feeling of someone standing directly behind your back.

Whirling around, he saw nothing, felt no one and squinted his eyes as his ears started to pick up on some noise around. It sounded like it was echoing around from every direction, but he was still able to follow it- maybe it was because wherever he was in your frame was a directionless void.

It was nowhere and everywhere all at once.  

As he walked, the blackness started to slowly light up from a greyscale and before long he was standing in a room.  Like, a real room, but in this room he couldn’t touch anything.  He was in a studio- covered in easels, paints, canvases, stains and tarps and cloth and everything in between.  

However, if he even tried to touch something, his hand would just phase right through the object he wanted to grasp. He walked around the studio before the door to the room opened and hobbled in was an older man whose face he couldn’t see.  His face wasn’t even that, it was just black scribbles where the features should have been.  Static echoed around the room as he assumed that the old man was trying to speak, but the words didn’t reach Taehyung’s ears.  

He walked to an easel that was covered with a white cloth before he set up his area and sat on a stool.  He cleaned up some brushes, cleaned his palette and rearranged his paints to suit his needs and wants.

Taehyung watched in silence as the old man began to paint and even though there was clearly a passing of some sort of warped time, in the moment it all felt timeless.  The end result was none other than your own portrait.  He shouldn’t have been shocked to see your spitting image in your portrait, but he couldn’t help it.  

Then the old man just turned his back, his fake face seemingly looking right at the young artist before he pointed at you.  More specifically, he pointed to the white space of your canvas and Taehyung could have sworn he saw it ripple like water.  

The setting of the studio began to suddenly fade out as he started hearing murmuring in the distance echoing around him.  It sounded unbearably loud as he covered his ears and the studio brushed away in flakes like eraser debris.  

“-yung! -hyung!” He felt like his head was about to burst as he felt something grab the back of his jacket and yank him backward.  He was then tumbling out of your frame, out of the void and onto the floor of the demented gallery. “Taehyung!” Someone shouted his name above him as his eyes were blurry and he rubbed at them to try and get them to regain their focus.  He blinked as his brows shot up when his eyes shot open wide.

“Namjoon?” There, above him, hovered his best friend. Taehyung quickly whipped around to his stomach before pushing off the ground and looking up to the blog journalist.  “What? What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that.”

Taehyung was sure he was the only one who happened to fall into this sketched out dangerous gallery. Namjoon wasn’t even where he was left when Taehyung looked for him. He looked his friend over.

“How have you made it this far?” Taehyung was impressed. Aside from the disheveled state of his clothes with wrinkles and small beads of sweat on his brow and temple, he seemed fine.  

“It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that.” Namjoon groaned as he pulled the artist off the floor and straightened out his jacket, brushing him off. “I’ve been running around like crazy for hours looking for you.”

Taehyung was shocked and honestly glad to see a familiar face.  Then you came to mind.  He wondered if you were looking for him after he just decided to pull that disappearing act on you.  He felt guilty about it now that his actions settled in. For all he knew, you thought he got himself caught in another dangerous situation when he was really as safe as he could be in the moment. 

“Did you happen to pass by a girl? Like, our age but wearing outdated clothing.”

“Someone else? No, I didn’t. Is someone else here?”

Taehyung shook his head.  “No, she’s not a person, she’s a painting and- argh forget it!  It’s a long story and from the look you’re giving me, you don’t believe me in the first place.”

“How hard did you hit your head when I pulled you out of that thing?” Namjoon asked as he used his thumb to lazily point to your empty frame.  Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut as he rubbed at his temples.  He remembered the way his head spun when Namjoon started calling him before he was dragged out by the man.  His head had pounded just like how it did when he was in the room with the tar monster from earlier. 

He tried thinking back to the man in the studio he witness and tried putting together anything that could be used as a clue on how to get home. He seemed to obviously be pointing to something, something Taehyung couldn’t help but feel was important.  “Whatever you saw,” Namjoon called his attention, “forget it.  It’s probably a trap or something.  You can’t trust the things here.”

“Not everything is dangerous,” Taehyung countered with you in mind.  “Y/n isn’t.”

Namjoon sighed annoyed. “You don’t know that. You said ‘she’ was a painting, right? You can’t trust something like that thing.”

“Don’t call her a thing,” Taehyung growled.  “She’s kept me safe up until this point. Like it or not, I trust her. We need to find her before we get attacked by something.”

“Taehyung-”

“I’m not arguing about this.  Finding Y/n takes first priority.” Normally, Taehyung was more than obedient when it came to Namjoon.  Not only was he older, but the sense of leadership the older held made it easy to listen.  However, Taehyung didn’t feel that air of ‘need to follow’ right now around him.  

“What about leaving? What about that priority?”

“She can help us. Y/n comes first,” he finalized before he was turning on his heel and going off into the direction he had fled from your side.  Namjoon clicked his tongue as he reluctantly followed behind.

Logically, even Taehyung knew that you’d probably be agitated for prioritizing your location over his freedom and escape out of this place.  But, the nagging in his head didn’t let him argue the topic, even with himself.  He wasn’t going to just find a way to escape and not tell you goodbye at the very least.  

You had done nothing but help and protect him, the least he could do was tell you thank you properly before he left.  It was the right thing to do, even if a little bit foolish.  He knew that.

To his luck, it didn’t take nearly all that long for him to catch a glimpse of you rushing around a corner.  You were jogging around, looking to and fro for something- he knew it was him- and he was quick to start shouting at you with his arm raised in the dark halls.  Namjoon stood behind his shoulder, still unhappy.

“Y/n!” He watched your head whip around as you started running towards him.  As you didn’t slow down in your approach, the closer you got the more nervous he became before you skit to an abrupt halt at his toes and got up into his face, grabbing his jacket collar.

“Stop going off on your own! Are you stupid or do you want to get attacked again that badly, huh?!” You shouted in rightful anger as he felt sweat gather on his neck.  He raised his hands in defense as he slightly pushed your shoulders down to gain some distance away from your rage.  

“I know, I shouldn’t have run off.” You slowly released his jacket. “That was my bad and I apologize, but,” he stepped away from you and twisted to show Namjoon. “I managed to find my friend.  He was in the gallery with me before I got here. This is Namjoon.”

Taehyung introduced the two of you as you just stared at the man and he stared back in a silent competition that Taehyung definitely picked up on.  Clearly, there wasn’t much hope of friendship on the horizon- but he figured you’d cooperate with him so that they could get out safely.  You were that kind of person- cooperative if not a bit on the stubborn side.

“You found him, huh? Where?”

“Oh, I went back to your frame and he was there.” Taehyung easily answered, deciding to keep the fact that he crawled into the frame and saw what looked like memories to himself.  What if it stirred something up with you? Your mood was already foul enough, he didn’t want to risk it.

He wasn’t one to stir the pot, so to speak. 

Your brow twitched at his seemingly carefree manner at his ditching stunt.  You groaned as you whacked him on the arm before pointing your finger at his face in a warning manner, making him go cross eyed momentarily.  

“You run off like that again, and I’ll tie your wrist to mine. Got it?”

“Promise?” He teased as you just threw your hands in the air in defeat and started walking off.  He wasn’t planning on running when your back was turned again.  Just that one time was enough.  Now that he was with Namjoon too, he couldn’t risk being as careless.  “We’re going. Come on.”

“At your beck and call, Leader,” Taehyung chided, still trying to get your spirits higher from the mood he put you in.  Namjoon followed behind silently with skeptical eyes as Taehyung chatted with you like he’d known you all his life.  

-x-x-x-

Taehyung had since stopped his yammering as you lead the charge of three through halls and told them when to be silent and when to be cautious. You kept a close eye on Namjoon, something about the friend of Taehyung’s rubbing you the wrong way.  You couldn’t say whether or not you were a good judge of character since Taehyung was the first human you ever met, but you still felt something off.  His cold glare made your artificial skin crawl.

You had just walked through an archway before Taehyung made a noise of recognition as you turned to him.  He looked around with wide eyes.  

“What is it?”

“I feel like I’ve been in this area before.”

“Really?” You questioned.  You’d never really gone into this portion of the gallery.  It was always too dark to see and you were always put off by how quiet it was.  It was like there was something on the other side of the walls that irked you.  “Maybe you passed by here before I found you. I’ve never been in this part before.”

“You haven’t been here? I thought you had been everywhere.” Taehyung wasn’t accusing you, he was just curious.  He wanted to know why you hadn’t been here.  

“I had no reason to be,” you told him.  “Besides, I don’t think a creature like me who’s slowly corrupting belongs in a tranquil part of this place.”

“So,” Namjoon finally intervened from behind the two of you.  You both turned to look at his cross-armed figure, still glaring and fuming with some odd sense of presence you hated.  “You admit you’re dangerous?”

Your brows furrowed.  “Excuse me?”

“You said you’re corrupting.  So? That sounds like a red-flag if I’ve ever heard one.”

“I’m sorry,” you scoff in disbelief, “has it been you getting Taehyung through this place in one piece? Or maybe it was you who has been taking down threats left and right and going on wild goose chases when things go south. No?”

“Guys-” Taehyung tried dispersing the stifling air, but Namjoon’s ire interrupted him.  You both went back and forth and before long you were at Namjoon’s toes, arguing with him face to face- quite literally.  Taehyung watched as he tried to think of a way to calm you both down.  The last thing he wanted was to both waste time and have the two sides of his trust arguing against each other.  

Taehyung was going to open his mouth and shout or something, just to break the string of tension, but his jaw had just dropped when you had stopped mid-sentence.  Your hand was raised, an accusatory finger pointed at his best friend’s chin when it started to drop just a fraction to his chest.

“Y/n?” Taehyung called.  He shrieked when your hand came to grip his chin, squeezing his jaw as you yanked Namjoon’s face down to look into his eyes.  “Woah! Y/n, c-calm down!” You narrowed your eyes before you shoved him away, making his feet stumble back a handful of steps to keep himself upright.  Taehyung came to your side as you shook your hand as if it was contaminated. He looked you over and noticed the uneasy look on your face. “What’s-”

“Why are you sticking to that painting like glue?” Namjoon called to Taehyung as he rubbed his jaw.  “I’m your friend here, not that.” Taehyung looked up and towards the journalist with confliction.  

“T-that’s true, but-”

“But nothing.  That thing just grabbed and shoved me, but you’re at it’s side like I did something wrong.  You should be checking on me, not fawning over that.” He pointed at you, his eyes grew small in anger as you just shot back at him a silent glare.  

Taehyung was less than pleased to keep hearing Namjoon refer to you as ‘it’ or a ‘thing’.  Painting or not, you were still alive and, dammit, Namjoon needed to accept that already. He was ready to tell him off, defend you when you spoke first in a low tone.

“Do you trust me?” You asked. You were looking dead at Namjoon, but the artist knew you were addressing him.  You repeat the question when you’re met with only silence.  Taehyung immedately nodded when the question was repeated.

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“WHY?!” He jumped from Namjoon’s shriek across from the two of you. Your shoulders squared and the action didn’t go unnoticed. “Why trust something you just met?! Who is admitting to killing things and slowing losing its mind?!” His brought his hands to his chest, gesturing to himself. “You should be trusting me!”

“What is wrong with you,” Taehyung whispered in concern, wondering what happened to his best friend.  He was normally the type to roll with anything, even in stressful situations he always tried to take it with a grain of salt.  He was an optimist, or at least he always tried to be.  No matter the dark tunnel, there’s always a light; it was basically Namjoon’s life motto. “Did something happen? Stop accusing Y/n and just talk to-” he gasped when he felt your hand grasp his.  Your face was downcast as you squeezed his palm. “Y/n?”

You whipped your head up and looked at him dead in the eyes.  “We have to run.” Taehyung jolted back.  Run? From what? You looked back at Namjoon, your colorblind eyes slowly unveiling just who and what that best friend of Taehyung’s was.  “We need to get away from him as soon as possible.  He’s dangerous.”

“What?” Taehyung was in instant denial.  Namjoon? Dangerous?  The same Namjoon who would cry if one of his plants died or would lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling if someone asked him what his favorite brand of pen is for the hundredth time? “That’s not true, he’s-” Taehyung looked at his best friend to defend him, but stopped short.

Something about him was off. Taehyung had noticed it since the beginning, but dismissed it all. Now, it looked like some veil of black was hovering around his friend’s body as he glared at you. Namjoon didn’t look like himself.  He looked fake and at that, Taehyung’s eyes widened.  

He looked artificial- just like how you did to his human eyes.  

You must have seen it in his eyes, that’s why you grabbed his chin to inspect him further.  That’s why you shoved him away and that’s why you wanted Taehyung to flee.  

Your hand dropped his as you caught sight of the thing disguised as Taehyung’s friend moving just slightly.  You stepped in front of the artist before you took off before ‘it’ could.  It lunged and you were quick to react.  You lifted your foot and slammed it into it’s stomach as it leaned forward- not at the lack of air, but the force you put into your stomping.  You locked your arm around the back of its neck as you tucked it’s head under your arm and held it in place in a lock.  

You groaned as you felt your arms burn with contamination again and your grip almost loosened at the paintings thrashing because of it.  You planted your feet as firmly as you could, even if the thrashing made you teeterd from your heels to your toes and skid an inch back or forward here and there.  

You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to keep the thing under your arm contained and although you had just told Taehyung not to leave your side again, you were ready to tell him to run off and hide somewhere until you could find him.  

The moment you turned your head on your shoulders to shout for him to do so, you halted to see him literally at your back already.  His large hands had planted themselves one on your back to steady you and the only ensnared in the fake Namjoon’s clothed back, gripping it’s clothes firmly. Even the fabric felt like paint under his nails as he started to rip the thing away from you.  

Taehyung caught sight of the fake’s face and what used to be identical to Namjoon had muddled away to show a white tar surface with no sense of expression. He sneered as he took your place of taking it on before he was shoving it backward.  

Although he wasn’t a fighter, Taehyung was no push over.  He could hold his own if he really ended up needing to and at the moment, he did.  He pushed the fake as it stumbled on it’s own clumsy feet before it started to go after him again.  Taehyung swung his elbow out, cathing the fake in the whiteness of it’s face before it hit the ground.  

He backed up away from the thing he just put on the ground, turning to you and snatching your hand in his again.

Taehyung’s hand squeezed yours and when he did, you spun on your heels and took off, fleeing with the young artist beside you.  You both heard ‘Namjoon’ scream behind your backs as Taehyung looked back to see it still laying on the floor, skriming.  

Taehyung was terrified, more terrified than he was before.  He was terrified on how it gained his trust so easily- a thought that almost made him angry.  He felt stupid as he held onto your hand like a linelife as you weaved through the halls and soon came to a staircase.  

You stopped as you looked over your shoulder as Taehyung buckled to his knees and heaved after sprinting for so long.  He used the wall to support himself as you looked at him trying to gather his breath.  

You looked at your hand in his and attempted to pull it away from him, but he just squeezed tighter onto you and tugged it back.

“A little longer,” he whispered.  After a few minutes of him gathering himself and you making sure you both weren't followed, he stood back to his height and continued to hold you hand.  “Hey,” he called with a tight throat. “If we run into anyone else, if you don’t trust them, tell me and I won’t either.” You didn’t say a word to try and deter him from using your judgement as his own, you simply nodded in agreement.  

If all worked out, he wouldn’t need to use your opinions for much longer.  You were going to get him out.

The two of you ascended the staircase before you and when you reached the top, Taehyung looked around to see the spitting image of the original gallery.  

The white walls and matching floors and ceilings. The chandeliers that weren’t on with the power out and the windows all greyed out as if they were blocked by cement.  The front doors were locked as if there was no escape.  Trying a switch, he wasn’t shocked to see the lights not working.  

“Can you lead from here,” you asked him, just trying to get him to talk again.  “I don’t know my way around.” He only nodded before he was walking off, tugging you in tow as you thought of ways to make his voice come out again.  You felt oddly uneasy when he was silent.  The previous incident with the fake friend of his obviously taking a mental toll on him.  It was to be expected, but it still hurt your chest.

If you had a beating heart, you’d call this feeling heartache.

It was when you passed by a rather mundane looking couch that was suclupted in a strange, wavey shape when you figured out a way to get him to talk. You stopped and your hand in his anchored him when he looked over his shoulder.  When he looked at you, you pointed to the sofa surrounded in rope dividers.

“What colors is that?” You asked when you looked back at him.  Your actions and unspoken desire to get his voice to come out didn’t go unnoticed-  

He smiled. “It’s red,” he told you.

-Nor did it go unappreciated.  

From that, he would tell you the colors of whatever you pointed at that you passed and before he knew it he had come to a deadend with only one, giant painting on the wall- taking up the entire space of it.  His mouth opened as his hand dropped from yours as he looked at it.  

“That’s,” he looked at it as his eyes ran over every edge. “That looks like the gallery. The real one,” he smiled as he gazed at it.  This was it, his way out. He felt in his bones that this was his exit.  His hand reached to touch the canvas, but gasped when his hand just phased right through.  It was just like how your frame was.  He could climb into this and be somewhere else.  

Then he felt a chill run down his spine and a heavy feeling fall in his gut.  He pulled his hand back as he turned around and looked at you.  You were well behind him against the back wall, your hands behind your back as you watched him.  

“What?” You asked.  This was his way out and you both knew it.  You expected him to jump on through and finally be free of this hellscape, but instead he made his way back to you and away from his exit door disguised as a painting. He stood in front of you, toe to toe as he looked at you.

Taehyung gazed at you, his eyes began to sting as they felt misty.  This was ridiculous, he felt ridiculous. How could he cry about leaving you behind when he just met you?  You didn’t belong in his world and he knew that just as much as you.  Yet, the feeling of parting ways with you made his throat tight.

“I’m leaving,” he told you. “And I won’t ever see you again,” he choked.  You were shocked to see the first tear run down his face.  You wondered if tears were blue. You brushed it away with the back of your hand as more just kept coming.  He could see the distortion on your skin under your sleeve from the angle of you wiping his tears and he just wanted to cry more.

His mind started becoming delusional.  

If he chose not to leave and stayed put with you, would you hurt him? Would you hunt him down in time and kill him like the others had before?  Would he lose his humanity even? Turn into a painting and spend the rest of his time with you. You wouldn’t be alone if he did. What if he tried to take you back with him? Would you just disintegrate into paint splotches because you had no physical body to speak of?

So many hypotheticals and you wouldn’t allow any of them to come to fruition.

“Go home, Taehyung,” you told him softly with a smile, the hand you placed on his cheek rubbed his skin before letting it softly fall.  You urged him, not commanded him and he knew he had to go.  He sniffled as he grabbed your hands and held them again. “What, you want a hug goodbye or something?” You teased but when he didn’t reply, you rolled your eyes.  “You do, don't you?”

“And? What about it,” he sniffed as he pouted. You pulled your hands away from his, even if he chased after them when you did.  You swatted at his hands that tried grabbing yours once more.

“Do you want me to hug you or not?” You asked in impatience while he nodded like a child. “Then let my hands go.” He immediately abandoned your hands and wrapped his arms under your own and pulled you to your toes against his chest.  You felt your chest hit his with a dull thud as he held you like you were dying.  

Well, you sort of were, but he didn’t need the finer details repeated on your unavoidable fate.  

He started swaying you on your toes as he found a home on your shoulder. One of your hands was on his head, shushing him and the other pat his back between his shoulders.  He really was like a giant child.  Was this what a goodbye hug felt like? It felt nothing like the hug he gave you when he was attacked previously and reunited with him.  This one felt much more sad- desperate even.

“Teahyung,” you whispered as you felt him hum against your shoulder. “You need to go.”

“I know,” he admitted before he started to pull away from you when your hands moved to land on his shoulders to push him softly.  His eyes looked swollen and wondered what color the skin around his eyes were. It looked darker to your black and white vision. “I think- I think I’m going to miss you.  A lot.”  

You brought a hand to his cheek again, stroking it as you smiled at him.  

“You’ll forget a painting like me in no time,” you eased.  He frowned at that, wanting to hug you again, but you just pushed him away. Turning him by his shoulders, you started to push him from behind to the frame before you came to his side.  You gestured towards it. “Home is waiting for you.”

He swallowed another large lump in his throat.  He curled his lips over his teeth to keep from crying anymore.  He was so overly emotional and he was annoying himself because of it. He could only imagine how you felt watching his waterworks.  

“What’s going to happen to you?”

“I’m going back to my frame,” you told him.  “I’ll go back to my home too,” you smiled.  He felt a small sliver of relief at your answer.  “We’ll both go back to where we belong, just as he should. It’ll be okay.” You pat his back. “I promise.” You felt bad, lying straight to his face like that.  

He nodded before he grabbed the inside of the frame, and began to hull himself over.  He had one knee resting on the frame edge and the other still hanging out when he turned and looked down at you hovering above you on the wall.  He reached in his jacket and pulled out his rose before he handed it to you.  It was a silent agreement as he passed it onto you- he knew he wouldn’t need it anymore. You’d keep it safe even if he wasn’t there anymore and he knew you would.

He put on his brightest smile, “see you around, Y/n,” before he jumped completely through.

As his body faded into the stretched, painted fabric of the canvas and the frame seemed to close like a locked portal that you couldn’t ever even think about passing through, you fell to the ground, screaming as your body felt like it was on fire.

You laughed bitterly as you were just relieved that the one precious person you managed to meet in your miserable existence as a painting without a future was someone as kind and warm as Taehyung.

-x-x-x-

Taehyung felt dazed.  

He was staring at a plaque as his eyes were bleary like he had just woken up from a long nap.  He felt like yawning before he felt a shake on his shoulder.  He lifted his head, rubbing his eyes.  

“Hey,” Namjoon called with concern written on his face, “what’s with you? You zoned out for like two minutes.”

“I dunno,” he replied.  He moved to look at the giant painting of a black location with messy brushes of what looked like some haunted locations.  “I feel like I just woke up from a really nap.” He yawned as he read the name of the painting loud to himself.  “Parallel Reality,” the words read and they sounded familiar to him.  “I feel like I'm forgetting something,” he frowned. “Didn’t the lights go out a little while ago or something?”

“Dude,” Namjoon’s hand fell from his friend’s shoulder. “You really need to get some proper sleep if you’re taking micro-naps, standing up, around this many people and dreaming about power-outages.” It was only then that the artist was aware of all the sounds around him- buzzing from every corner of the building.

“I don’t wanna hear that from the reigning champ of disarranged sleep schedules.”

The journalist and young, free-lance artist continued walking around the blinding white gallery.  People crowded the place and the murmur of them all talking in whispers comforted Taehyung for a reason he couldn’t exactly explain.  

He and Namjoon had started down the final hall they had left to view. The sme hall that happened to contain the naming right to the gallery in the first place.  At the end of the hall, hanging on the dead-end wall was the one painting called ‘Leia’. The piece Taehyung came to see specifically to see if he could be sprung out of his art-block.

As he stood in front of the painting, he inspected it.

It was a young woman dressed in dated clothes with her eyes looking off to almost mimic looking off the canvas.  Her legs were coiled in thorns and she looked like she was running from something, but with a protective sense and not a fearful one.  She held a blue rose in her hand as the silver, engraved frame encased the painting.  

The piece wasn’t what he was expecting, but somehow looking at the piece, he felt calm despite the action set formed in brush strokes.  As the tour guide in charge of 'Leia’ began to explain how it was the artist’s last piece, Taehyung began to zone out again, while Namjoon scribbled down notes beside him.  

As she yammered on and on, Namjoon soon caught sight of his friend’s face. He stopped his writing as he lifted his pen up and lowered his arm to tuck it away in his pocket,. When his hand was free of any writing utensil, he placed it on Taehyung’s back.

“Hey,” he whispered softly to not gain attention from the other’s standing around them. “Why are you crying?”

Taehyung jolted as he quickly brought his hands to his face.  

He was crying.  

When did he start and why? He wiped them away only for more to follow through.  He was soon silently hunched over sobbing.  Why did he feel this way by looking at a painting? Art had always given him a sense of emotion- but he hadn’t felt such sorrow before.  

“I don’t know,” he whimpered as Namjoon took him to some place less crowded. As Taehyung calmed down, he felt oddly refreshed.  

“You okay now? I’ve got enough notes for an entry if you want to leave.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I want to go home and paint,” he announced as Namjoon smiled, happy to see a spark behind Taehyung’s eyes return.  The spark of an artist that had finally overcome his art-block. 

“Alright, then let’s get going.” As the two men walked out, reception bidding them farewell, Namjoon started making conversation. “So, what do you want to paint?”

“I’m not sure, but maybe a blue rose garden or something. Paired with something old fashioned, like outdated clothing or old picture books. I’ll figure it out when I get to my studio.”

He didn’t voice it, but he knew he’d be back to view ‘Leia’ again, and this time he wouldn’t cry. The calmness he felt from the painting- regardless of his tears- was like being reunited with an old friend. 

What kind of man would Taehyung be if he cried in front of a friend?  

-END-

[undertaker1827]

Hello if you're still taking requests would I be able to request 1 and 5 of your Halloween prompt list for our lovely Undertaker, thank you!! Your blog honestly gives me something to look forward too right now, keep up the good work and stay safe my dear <3

Yes of course you can!! And thank you so much, that’s really nice to hear. You stay safe too ❤️

1] Going trick or treating

5] Walking at midnight

Masterlist

-

It was still fairly early in the evening when you and Undertaker headed out. You were both in full costume, him (ironically) as a reaper and you as a vampire, armed with giant bags you intended to fill with Halloween candy. You had discussed this endeavour early in the day and come to the conclusion that trick or treating was an absolute must. You started making your way down the road outside the parlour, slowly walking further into the city and towards various outside decorations and orange and purple lights. Everything was in full swing by the time you got into a more festive area, children in costume running around excitedly and some of their parents standing around to chat.

You grinned at the mortician as you approached your first house, shoulders brushing and fingers entwined. It didn’t bother you in the slightest that you were probably far too old to be doing this, you got in line just like the children who were bouncing on their toes and waiting for treats. For the most part, nobody gave you two a second glance so you had full bags in no time at all, having perfected the timing for a simultaneous “Trick or treat!” with matching cheesy grins and a hopeful look in your eyes. Your act made literally everyone laugh, much to your delight. You started heading back to the parlour once your bags were full, joking and trying to work out what you had been given the whole way.

You sat down together as soon as you arrived, emptying both bags out on top of a coffin and swapping sweets over so you both got the ones you liked. The rest of the evening seemed to go by quite quickly, just with the two of you talking about nothing and everything. You made your way through plenty of the candy you had been given and the pumpkin carving was finished hours before you went out. The Nightmare Before Christmas was playing quietly in the background and you were curled up together on the sofa. You lightly mentioned the time when a notification lit up your home screen, which then loudly proclaimed 23.47. Undertaker playfully raised his eyebrows at you, elaborating when all you offered was a blank expression.

“Almost the bewitching hour, you know,” he teased, wiggling his fingertips in a way that was meant to suggest mystery. You snorted unceremoniously then burst into proper laughter, the reaper soon joining you. He stood up a few moments later, a hand reached down to you and head tilted so that you could see one eyes through his bangs. “Come with me?”

You took the proffered hand and jumped as you were hauled to your feet. The mortician started making his way to the front door so you grabbed a coat on the way out, linking your arm with his after you put it on. You waited for him to lock the parlour up, breath forming frozen white clouds and collars pulled up your neck against the cold.

“Where are we going?” You questioned as he slipped the keys into his pocket and drew you close to his side, walking in the opposite direction to where you had gone earlier.

“It’s a surprise, love,” he commented idly, “think you’ll enjoy it though.”

“Ooo, a surprise,” you repeated back, eyes glinting with humour. You were more than intrigued and the reaper knew it, though he gave away nothing further. Once you got a decent way down the road and away from the centre of the city, Undertaker pulled you to one side and held his arms out, gaze locked on yours.

“Trust me?” He asked, smiling when you said ‘of course’. He scooped you up in his arms immediately and the next thing you knew, London had fallen away from around you both. You glanced around to find the pair of you were standing in the middle of a beautiful, dark woodland. You found there were plenty of leaves underfoot when the mortician let you down, and you were certain they would have all been a brilliant array of red and orange, but the light was too low to see.

Undertaker took your arm once again and you set off at a leisurely pace, not feeling the need for words. The air was different in here somehow, clear and cold and nothing like the pollution you had become used to by living in a city. There was something of a damp hint too, like it had rained recently, but the cloud had cleared now and you could see astonishing detail in the constellations arching above your head, the full moon providing just enough light to see by. You risked a glance at your companion and felt your chest warm at his expression. He was happy, genuinely happy and utterly relaxed in this safe wilderness. In fact you didn’t think you had ever seen him look this calm. You weren’t sure where exactly he had taken you, but you knew this walk would stay in both of your minds for a very long time to come.

[angrymongol01-archived]

A/N: Am reposting two of my shelved discontinued fem!Hinata fics from my old blog here (for exposure ig? Also I didn't delete them completely there, they're just posted privately lol); for those who've read the original post before and wondering why this blog repost another blog's work, supplies~!! OP here, filling this blog with some Haikyuu content from last October. Enjoy ^^;; ALSO DO NOT SEND HATE ORZ smh

My Masterlist

Prologue | 01 | Omake 01

01 - The Restroom is Indeed a Scary Place

wc: 2.5k words

warning: slightly suggestive (thigh touching), some kidnapping ig?, but nothing else aside from the other warnings above; and a crying Hinata also btw

also inspired by this cute doujinshi

*NOTE: since purple/violet is unavailable via PC (using desktop beta lol), I'll use yellow for Ushijima instead.

Hinata Shouyou just came out of the girls’ restroom, singing her bathroom song (but discreetly lol) and turned left, when she bumped into something hard, face first.

“Ah, s-sumimase—“

“Are you okay?” a low and deep manly voice spoke to her, while large hands still gripped her shoulders after saving Karasuno’s Number 10 from tumbling backwards.

Brown eyes looked up to meet olive ones, as she faced Ushijima Wakatoshi, Shiratorizawa Academy’s Captain and Ace.

Ushiwaka. Japan.

“U-ushijima…-san,” Hinata gasped.

“Hinata Shouyou,” he replied, his face stoic as ever while staring at her face.

Which made the female decoy flustered.

Realizing the narrow space between them.

Also hands pulled off from touching gripping Ushiwaka’s chest shirt for support earlier.

Prompting him to release his grip on the chibi’s shoulders.

“I-i-i’m sorry!” Hinata stammered, apologizing at Ushijima and bowing multiple times. “I… I didn’t mean to—“

Staring at the girl, he was amused at how panicky one half of Karasuno’s freak quick combo is right now.

Which is cute.

And he fought the urge to pinch out her round cheeks right this moment.

The olive-haired guy slightly nodded in her direction.

“I’m also sorry—” he said laconically, which made Hinata surprised at his statement, “—for bumping into you a while ago.”

The female crow just shook her head and beamed. “It’s okay! I’m alright, Ushijima-san. You shouldn’t apolog—kya!”

Hinata’s sentence was cut off when both hands cupped her pink-tinged cheeks.

Ushijima’s hands, though large and calloused due to spiking balls since childhood, were warm and soft to the touch.

“A-a-ano—! W-wha… Ushijima-san…?!”

The chibi stuttered, trying to look at him but failed to do so.

Her heart thumping as loud as Saeko-neesan’s wadaiko beats.

Lol.

She squirmed, face now a full-blown blush, under the Shiratorizawa captain’s touch.

He raised his eyebrows, his voice a bit amazed.

“Hmm… so it’s true! Touching your cheeks can calm the nerves. Relaxing and therapeutic.”

WHAT IS SHE—SOME GENERIC FOOD SUPPLEMENT OR SOMETHING—

Hinata tilted her head on the side, looking a bit lost to what Ushiwaka said. “Pardon?”

Before he answered his reply, another male voice joined in from the back of the big guy. “Wakatoshi-kun, Coach and the others are waiting for you inside the gym… what are you doing—eh?”

Shiratorizawa’s Player No.5, the Guess Monster itself. Tendou Satori.

The redhead middle blocker peeked at his teammate’s shoulder to see both of his hands were connected—no, caressing—both of Hinata’s flushing cheeks.

“Aha! Karasuno’s little Number 10~!!”, he exclaimed, pointing his long index finger at the orange-head middle blocker.

RIP Ushiwaka’s eardrum.

She frowned, glaring at the tall redhead.

“HOW DARE YOU CALL ME ‘LITTLE’!?” she pouted.

Wanted to karate chop Tendou in the face for making fun of her height.

Meanwhile, the female decoy’s talking sent faint vibrations onto Ushijima’s palms still latching on both her cheeks.

He hummed in delight.

He was entertained by the different facial expressions Karasuno’s Hinata Shouyou made today.

And his heart swooned.

Noticing his friend’s faint blush, Tendou commented, “Ah! You must be trying out the theory about touching Chibi-chan No.10’s fluffy cheeks?”

“Hmm,” he nodded in reply.

Hinata stared both at the Shiratorizawa players, face a bit red. “What ‘theory’ is it that involves t-touching my cheeks…?”

The redhead draped one arm around Ushijima while his other arm left hanging upward, index finger pointed above.

Like an “Aha!” pose.

He explained, “There’s this rumor circulating around here earlier that we kind of heard about after coming out of our bus upon arrival. They said that (either) ruffling your hair, touching your cheeks and/or your hands can calm down uneasy nerves and relaxes the body.”

“Eh!? R-really? Who said th—ugyaa!”

The left-handed volleyball cannon started to squish both the female baby crow’s cheeks in a gentle manner.

Her hands tried to pry his hands away from her cheeks but to no avail—he’s strong he won’t budge.

Ushiwaka’s olive eyes locked in with Hinata’s brown ones.

“It is very relaxing.” “U-u-ushijima-san… s-stop… my c-cheeks…—“

…really, the restroom—whether it is the girls’ or the boys’—is indeed a scary place.

——— ☀️ ———

Meanwhile, inside another nearby gym, the rest of the crows were having their morning warm ups.

The team’s vice-captain, Sugawara Koushi, noticed their female member’s absence.

“Say, has anybody known where Hinata-chan went to?”

“She went to the girls’ restroom to freshen up,” said their third-year club manager, Shimizu Kiyoko, pushing forward a volleyball cart full of balls on the other side of the net.

Beside her, holding a bunch of clean towels and sports bibs, her fellow manager Yachi Hitoka added on with a somewhat worried look etched in her face.

“But, Shimizu-senpai, that was ten minutes ago! I wonder why Hina-chan hasn’t come back yet…? And our first practice match for today will start soon.”

“I’ll go look for that boke, Sugawara-san,” his fellow setter, first-year Kageyama Tobio, offered to help.

The silver-haired guy smiled softly at Kageyama and patted his back.

“Thank you! Please find and bring our dear Hinata-chan back to safety—and don’t start another ‘lovers’ quarrel’ with her, got it, Kageyama?”

Kags suddenly choked at his senpai’s request, his face a whole mess of red.

“S-SUGAWARA-SAN, I—WE’RE NOT…!” he stammered while glaring at the third-year.

“Oho~ a ‘lovers’ quarrel’ between the King and his idiotic subject? Really though…”

“S-shut up, four-eyes!” Kageyama then sneered at the smirking tall middle blocker, fellow first-year Tsukishima Kei. Beside him, his classmate Yamaguchi Tadashi, snickered.

“Hai, hai~! That’s enough,” Suga singsonged while pushing the fuming and embarrassed raven-haired kid out of the gym. “Come on, you still need to fetch Hinata…”

A jolt ran down the third-year setter’s bones, his ahoge twitched like an antenna.

SugamamaRadar™️

Fear shown on Sugawara’s face.

Oh no, my poor baby crow…—

He jogged towards Kageyama. “Wait up! I’ll come with you—“

——— ☀️ ———

“…s-stop squishing my face, d-dammit…!”

Hinata’s cheeks—now a bit sore from constant pressing—were still being held ‘hostage’ by Ushijima’s large hands.

Behind his shoulder, the Guess Monster amused himself with what was in front of him.

“Ah, I wanna take a picture of her right now~!” Tendou decided, fishing out his phone from the pocket of his jersey shorts.

“N-no, no… Tendou-sa…! No—Please…! D-don’t… my cheeks are h-hurting—USHIJIMA-SENPAI STOP!!!” the female decoy yelped, tears starting to leak out of her brown eyes.

Senpai? Chibi-chan calls Wakatoshi-kun ‘senpai’ now?? WHAT!?!!! the redhead thought, flabbergasted. Unfair… so unfair~

The olive-head stopped what he was doing after he felt wetness seeping through his fingers, but hands remained stuck to Hinata’s face.

Hinata Shouyou, with her sore and pinkish cheeks, teary-eyed and sniffling.

Tendou then whispered to his team captain. “Oh my, this is bad, Wakatoshi-kun~ You’ve made the cute girl cry…”

Ushijima kept his gaze at her, his olive eyes laced with concern. “Did I?” he asked monotonously, his hands now placed on his sides.

The ‘cute girl’ in question started to wipe away her tears with the back of her hand while rubbing her abused right cheek with the other.

“I did tell you to stop squishing my cheeks, Ushijima-san!” Hinata scowled at the two men. “But you won’t listen!”

The Shiratorizawa ace felt a pang of guilt and sadness at the same time.

But Ushijima Wakatoshi made up a plan to keep her sunny disposition from fading.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, body slightly bent towards Hinata so she’s at eye level with him. “I really am.”

His usual expressionless facial structures softened and… is he smiling? At her?

Her face flushed again at the sudden closeness between them, heart beat picking up speed.

Not to mention the warmth of his left hand the chibi felt at the crown of her head.

Ushijima began to wipe away streaks of tears on her eyes and cheeks with his right.

“Stop crying now, or your cute face will become like Yoda,” Tendou jokingly said to Hinata, playful red eyes looking at her.

“S-shut it, Tendou-san,” Karasuno’s Number 10 whined, lips pouting, her face scowling with embarrassment.

Ah, be it a crying face or a pissed one, she really looks cute either way, both guys thought the same, with faint blushes adorning their cheeks.

“What~? Tendou-‘san’?! You called Wakatoshi-kun ‘Ushijima-senpai!’”—the Guess Monster then imitated Hinata’s voice from earlier.

Which further embarrassed the scowling girl more.

“—then me a merely ‘Tendou-SAN’?! Hey, we’re of the same year level—“

“Tendou—“

The said redhead fake-sneered at the orange-haired decoy, pointing shakily. *shrugs*

“—I’m your upperclassman also, Chibi-chan! Show some respect by calling me ‘senpai’!!” fumed Tendou.

Hinata flinched a bit at their rival school’s middle blocker’s litany. And looked down.

Then silence.

Ushijima turned to face his friend, his brows slightly knitted.

“That is absurd coming from you, Tendou,” he scolded him. “I think you made her angry now. What if she cries again?” Not to mention her teammates—

“Maa, maa~ don’t you worry, my dear Wakatoshi-kun! She won’t~ I’m sure of that!”

Did she buy the charade? the redhead thought as he waited expectantly at her next course of action.

Eyebrows raised in anticipation. “Well…?”

She mumbled. “…pai…”

“Come again?”

Hinata then raised her head and looked shyly at them.

Flustered. Lips quivering. Hands fiddling the hem of her white shirt. Feet shifting from one side to another.

She took a deep breath.

“T-tendou-senpai! U-u-ushijima-senpai…!” she stuttered yet said in a clearly loud voice.

That does it.

They’ve been struck with the arrow of sunshine deep in their very soul.

The olive-haired guy’s body felt tense for a second.

The Guess Monster suddenly fell dramatically on both knees, clutching his shirt-clad chest as if in a wheezing position.

The female middle blocker panicked, hands waving in front of them.

“A-a-ano…!?!! You two–are you two okay???”

“You… you nearly killed us with your moe-moe attack, you know!?” Tendou exclaimed, quickly bouncing back from his kneeling moments ago.

Hinata tilted her head (again) in puzzlement. “Huh? ‘Moe-moe attack’? What’s that?”

Which caused him to facepalm and shake his head in reply. “Seriously!? What are you… are you even a human being??”

“HEY!”

After a long time lol, Ushijima spoke to her in a blunt manner.

“I did not know that you’re as dense as a rock when it comes to… these kinds of things, Hinata Shouyou.”

You’re one to talk though, Ushiwaka lololol

She scowled again at them. “I’m not!!! Quit teasing me, damn you Ushiwaka~!”

Cute!!!

The redhead then whispered again at the captain’s ear, acting like his bad conscience.

“Let’s take her back with us to the team, Wakatoshi-kun. Let’s keep her and her radiating presence to ourselves.”

He agreed with Tendou’s scheming idea, which is the same thought as his. “Yes, let’s keep her to ourselves.”

Forget about facing the wrath of Karasuno–screw this!

Hinata sensed something suspicious going on between them.

“W-what are you two whispering about? Hey, what do you think you’re doin—hyaah!!! U-ushijima-san…!!!”

She was hoisted up by Ushijima and placed on his shoulder, her flushing face facing towards his broad back and Tendou (who wiggled his long fingers as if doing a little wave of hello), as they walked away from the girls’ restroom.

Both his large and beefy arms holding her tiny waist and slim, lightly-toned milky-white legs to secure her in place.

Hinata Shouyou was being carried by the ace of Shiratorizawa like a sack of rice.

“Put me down! Ushijima-san, please!” she yelped, her fists started banging her captor’s back.

“Where are you two taking me to—ah!!”

His hand is touching my thigh…!

Gripping her legs tighter, Ushijima turned his head around, olive-colored eyes staring sternly against her honey-brown ones.

“I would appreciate it if you stop punching my back. Lest you really want to fall yourself down on the concrete face first?” he hissed.

That stopped Hinata from bruising his back more.

S-scary… Ushiwaka’s really scary! she thought, a faint wave of nausea forming on her stomach.

Silence.

“S-sorry…,” she mumbled guiltily, her hands now touching his back, rubbing small circles to where she had hit him a while ago.

Ah… her hands… she’s comforting me…?

She held out a wry smile. “Does it still hurt, senpai…?”

“…yes, it still hurts. A bit.”

The orange-haired girl panicked again.

“EHHH!? I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m so so—hiii!!!”

Ushijima gently stroked a finger on the back of her thighs. “Stop flailing yourself or I will really drop you on the ground. Hard.”

Hinata then gulped at the consequence.

“Y-yes, sir…,” she mumbled, her pouty face laced with a deeper shade of red.

Tendou laughed heartily. “You really, really made him mad there, aren’t’cha, dear Chibi-chan~,” he said, ruffling her orange hair.

“And, to answer your question earlier: we’re taking you back to our team!”

“What!?” she exclaimed.

RIP Ushiwaka’s eardrum, part 2.

The decoy shook her head in a disapproving way.

“No, no, no, NO! I don’t wanna! Please let me down, Ushijima-san—I need to go back to my team! I bet they’re waiting for me! We have a practice match today… I want to go back… please?”

“No. You’re coming with us, Hinata Shouyou.”

Sweat drops started to form on Hinata’s face.

“B-but… if I don’t return back soon, K-kageyama-kun will kill me!”

“THE HELL I WILL YOU IDIOT!!!”

Suddenly, a raging Karasuno Number 9 appears—

The three of them flinched, with the girl slowly glancing upward to see Kageyama running towards, glaring.

Oh, crap! Hinata felt shivers down her spine.

“Hinata boke, we’ve been looking for you for almost half a hour!! Why’re you taking so long to take a shit in the bathroom—“

“—BAKAYAMA I DID NOT—AND IT’S ‘POOP’, NOT ‘SHIT’, STUPID!!—”

Tendou snickered at the conversation. “Pfft. He said ‘shit’ to a girl…”

“—we were so worried about you—huh?” He suddenly stopped his bickering when the setter noticed the awkward position his orange-haired partner was in.

Together with two of the members of the Shiratorizawa Academy Men’s Volleyball Club.

Together with the Ushiwaka.

Why is she on his shoulder? he thought, a vein popping on his forehead.

What the hell.

Kageyama walked near them, scowling. “Hey, why are you with Ushijima? Tell me!”

Panic rose across her face.

Sweat began to form on her forehead.

Brown eyes averting his cold blue-eyed stare.

Hinata started to sputter out some words, nearly stuttering in the process.

“K-k-ka-Kageyama-kun! It’s not what you think—“

Ushijima answered him back for her. “We’re bringing Hinata Shouyou back to our team. We’re keeping her.”

“USHIJIMA-SA—hyaah!” He made another stroke at the back of her thigh, making her flushed and gripping the back of his shirt in the process. “P-please… stop—“

He replied with his usual stoic demeanor, but a pink tinge sporting his cheekbones said otherwise.

“No, I won’t stop. I want to see more of that cute expression of yours, …Shouyou-chan.”

Homerun, straight to the kokoro—

Is he smirking at her???

“A-ano… s-s-senpai, please…—“ My heart… beating faster… if this continues… I might—

“What the hell are you two doing with my precious child?”

Sugawara stood in front of them, donning a creepy-like smile.

Dark aura emitted behind the crows’ vice-captain. Now, it’s the two Shiratorizawa players’ turn to shiver.

“S-sugawara-san… please… h-help me…,” his precious kouhai muttered dizzily. “I think I might… fai—“

And her mind went blank.

DO NOT REPOST/EDIT WITHOUT PERMISSION. PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME, KIDS. LIKES ESPECIALLY REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED. ALL WORKS © angrymongol01 - 2021.

[artificialqueens]

Envious (Branjie) - Ortega

a/n: hello ya big lovely bastards it’s ya gal ortega back on the scene with this wee bit of filth i promised was coming over on my blog about a month ago! thank u very much to everyone that’s waited patiently! without further ado i wish all of my readers a very pleasant jealous exes makeup sex fic xo

(this fic is sponsored by envious // aluna, go listen to it it’s is the exact vibe)

fic summary:

yeah, you got some nerve

standing over there with her just to make me mad

(or- Brooke and Vanessa are ex girlfriends at a party both missing each other and wanting to make the other jealous so Brooke spends all night flirting with Priyanka and Vanessa spends all night flirting with Kameron until neither of them can keep up the charade anymore and they go and have jealous makeup sex in the bathroom)

***

The room is dark, the music is loud, and she’s over there.

Brooke wonders if she knew she’d be here tonight. She probably did if the outfit she’s wearing is anything to go by; black lace bodysuit that’s see-through everywhere but where Brooke wants it to be, vinyl red snake print skirt that’s too short and too tight and is going to make Brooke have a heart attack. She’s not chosen heels tonight. Instead she’s in a pair of scuffed black Superstars with three gold stripes which are stained with the spilt alcohol of parties gone by. Brooke always thought it was adorable when she accepted her short stature, always used to love the way she’d have to go on her toes if she wanted to kiss her.

Which used to be all the time. And now it’s not.

Instead she’s leaning against the counter in the kitchen and talking to some tall Amazonian goddess with tumbling blonde ombré hair, long legs and intimidating-looking muscles which tell Brooke she wouldn’t win against her in a fight. Not that Brooke’s going to fight her, of course. Even if the way she tucks her hair behind her ears and laughs softly as her conversational partner screeches out a story makes Brooke want to tip the entire contents of the punch bowl they’re standing beside over her head.

“Anyone sitting here?”

Brooke blinks, a little caught out, and follows the voice to make sure it’s actually talking to her. She is pleasantly surprised when her gaze falls on a tall girl with a shock of long, straight, bright orange hair, with long eyelashes and dark eyes and full lips. She’s wearing a denim skirt with a set of metal buttons down the front and a safety pin masquerading as one at the bottom. She also appears to be part of the bodysuit club (was there a dress code? Did Brooke miss a memo?) except hers is white, long-sleeved, tight and ribbed.

Brooke might still be hung up on her ex but she knows a pretty girl when she sees one, and she runs her tongue over her teeth before she smiles. “Nope, you’re good.”

The girl grins gratefully and flips some of her hair over her shoulder before sitting down next to Brooke on the battered leather sofa. She’s close and Brooke can smell her perfume, the overpowering cloying-ness of it rendering it instantly recognisable as some Thierry Mugler invention. It’s only then that Brooke registers she’s got two drinks in her hand, and she’s holding one out for her to take.

“You want this?” she asks cheerfully. “It was meant for my friend but I think she went off to get high or something, I don’t know. Anyway, it’s yours now.”

The outgoing nature of this girl is only serving to take Brooke’s mind off of the one on the other side of the house. That’s good. She doesn’t want to think about her, or the way that she’s almost pressed up against that other bodybuilder girl, or the way that that used to be them.

Brooke blinks slowly in an attempt to hit refresh on her mind, not to dignify those thoughts with any more time. She thanks the girl and sips at the curious red liquid in the cup, narrowing her eyes a little. “What’s in this?”

“Fuck knows. It’s the punch from the kitchen,” the girl shrugs, then raises an eyebrow at Brooke. “I mean there’s no roofies, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, I wasn’t…God, sorry-”

“Chill. I’m kidding,” the girl quirks a smile, and Brooke relaxes a little. Fuck, this is hard. She’s out of practise more than she’d care to admit. Luckily though the girl takes the lead again, flicking her hair once more and exposing a huge gold hoop hanging from her earlobe. “I’m Priyanka.”

“I’m Brooke,” Brooke follows suit. How can it possibly feel weird to introduce herself to someone else? “So, uh. How do you know Yvie?”

“We do netball together,” Priyanka explains, fishing something out of her drink with a long acrylic nail. “I mean, just for fun. Neither of us are actually on the team. I’m pretty much still at the stage where the ball comes towards me and I scream so loud all the insects in a five mile radius pass away.”

Brooke can’t control the way she snorts out a laugh at Priyanka’s unexpected turn of phrase. She’s funny, and that’s always been attractive to Brooke. She remembers the way someone else used to make her laugh like that, the absolutely off-the-wall observations she’d hit out with. Brooke’s thinking about her again, and she finds her gaze shifting through to the kitchen.

When Brooke’s eyes land on her, she finds she’s already staring her way. Staring at her and Priyanka sitting close together on the sofa, and Brooke having just laughed the way she used to laugh with her. And her face is like a storm cloud brought to life.

Brooke feels a little spark go off in her gut a bit like she’s won something, so she casts Priyanka a big smile, one that she attempts to make literally sparkle. Brooke reaches out and touches Priyanka’s knee lightly, can practically hear the girl on the other side of the room hiss.

“You’re funny,” Brooke simpers, and Priyanka tries to suppress a smile but fails.

“You’re cute,” she replies, and a firework goes off in Brooke’s brain.

***

“Son of a bitch,” Vanessa finds herself muttering under her breath.

“What?”

Her gaze snaps back to the girl in front of her. Kameron, the girl that works at the gym with muscles that make Vanessa wonder if she could pick her up and hold her against the wall if they made out. The girl who’s tall and blonde and who, if Vanessa squints a little, looks just like her ex.

Her ex who’s currently sat in the living room dressed in the tightest pair of blue jeans imaginable (Vanessa knows the ones- they make her butt look way too good) and an illegally tiny pink crop top, practically in some other girl’s lap, laughing and flirting and touching and doing entirely too much.

But Vanessa’s not thinking about her right now. She’s moving on. She’s talking to a hot girl with tattoos and ripped jeans and a flannel shirt tied around her waist and short nails on her middle and index fingers.

Or at least she’s trying to. If her ex wasn’t distracting her by laughing so loud the whole party is practically deafened.

“Sorry,” Vanessa smiles apologetically, bats her lashes a little. “What were we talkin’ about?”

“You were telling me about your course,” Kameron raises an eyebrow at her. “And then you got distracted by that girl over on the sofa.”

Fuck. Vanessa needs to save the situation. Kameron is incredibly gorgeous and Vanessa’s goal is to go home with her tonight, be underneath her between the hours of 1 and 4am and all the while run the risk of accidentally yelling out the wrong name. She decides to come clean. “God, yeah, sorry. It’s just…that’s my ex. An’ I forgot she’d be here tonight. Sucks when you got mutual friends after you break up so then you still gotta see each other.”

Kameron nods understandingly. “Jeez, sorry. That’s rough. And that’s totally insensitive of her to be doing all that in front of you. You think she’s doing it on purpose?”

Vanessa narrows her eyes as she flicks her gaze to the sofa again. She’s tracing the henna on the other girl’s hand. Vanessa feels the blood in her veins turn to fire. “Yep.”

As she flicks her gaze back to Kameron, Vanessa watches as a little scheming smile appears on her face. “Well, you should get to have some fun of your own, right?”

Vanessa feels little butterflies in her stomach as Kameron steps a little closer to her and lets out a laugh that’s entirely too loud but makes Vanessa smile at the sheer unexpectedness of it all regardless. “What the hell was that for?”

Kameron jerks her head to the living room and sure enough, her ex is looking over at the pair of them with a face like a burst balloon and body language to match.

“Now,” Kameron says lightly as she brings a hand up to touch Vanessa’s arm gently. “Are you going to tell me what the hell sociology is?”

***

Brooke doesn’t really know what her plan is anymore. She’s not sure if she’s trying to make her ex jealous or if she actually really wants to kiss Priyanka until she can no longer think straight. Priyanka is confident, and funny, and very attractive, and the way she smiles all excitedly at practically everything Brooke says is entirely too endearing. But Brooke is vaguely- scratch that, acutely- aware of the two girls in the kitchen who are standing too close and smiling too much and fuck, she’s giving the other girl those eyes and Brooke knows exactly what that look means.

She needs to up her game somehow.

“So wait, you must have so many crazy stories about Yvie from high school,” Priyanka distracts her. She’s curled her fingers around Brooke’s at some point during their conversation, and Brooke’s not adverse to that at all.

Brooke pauses for dramatic effect and leans close to Priyanka as she imparts her new information. “She had a full Myspace emo fringe which she used to straighten as soon as she got out the shower.”

“NO!” Priyanka yells, throwing her head back in a laugh. Score. That’s going to have attracted the right amount of attention from the girl in the kitchen, and Brooke feels like she’s been lit up inside.

“Fried her hair. Fried it! I can’t even describe the sizzling sound it made on the irons. Like twelve thousand rashers of bacon on the hottest pan alive. I heard it so many times at sleepovers, I swear I can’t eat fried food any more.”

Priyanka’s laughing again, gripping Brooke’s hand tighter and sending shockwaves down her spine. As her laughter dies down, Brooke notices she’s got her hand in her lap and it’s giving her entirely too many ideas.

She checks on the situation in the kitchen. Her ex isn’t looking at her. Instead, she’s got her eyes on the girl in front of her and a hand on her waist, and Brooke feels a little like she’s going to be sick.

“It was 2012, though, I mean we all made questionable choices back then,” Priyanka shrugs, her gaze dark and wicked as she fixes Brooke with her brown eyes. “I bet you were, like, totally on the neon trend.”

Brooke is distracted from her ex by the horrific accusation she’s just had pointed at her, and she lets out a small screech as Priyanka laughs. “Oh my God! That’s the most offensive thing anyone’s ever said to me. Fucking…neon, Jesus. So wait, you think I was one of those girls that rocked up to house parties in a bright green tutu and those Stargazer pink feather eyelashes?!”

“Exactly that! And twelve layers of fake tan!” Priyanka laughs with glee. Brooke finds the nausea dissipating. She really is very cute.

“Oh my God, fuck all the way off. No, I was more…trying incredibly hard to be the fifth member of Little Mix.”

Priyanka’s mouth drops open in shock and recognition. “No way. Your entire personality was moustache-themed accessories, wasn’t it. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Brooke bites back a smile. “If I told you I had a t-shirt with the words ‘I moustache you a question’ on it…would you judge me?”

Priyanka drops Brooke’s hand in aid of flailing and squealing entirely too much, but Brooke’s only disappointed for a moment because as she speaks Priyanka rests both of her palms on Brooke’s knees. “YES! Heavily! Jesus, at least you glowed up, though.”

Brooke feels like she’s blushing. Maybe she is. She tucks a little lock of hair behind her ear and she’s not too sure whose benefit it’s for. “Stop it.”

“I mean, I don’t know what you looked like in high school, but you’re super hot now, so,” Priyanka shrugs, gives her a little wink. The girl is a massive flirt and Brooke doesn’t mind it one single bit.

She takes Priyanka’s hand before looking back through to the kitchen.

That got her attention.

***

“So he’s obviously booked himself onto the expert level class to try and impress me, and I’m like, baby…you are so not even close to my type. Because number one, you’re a guy. And that’s…that’s numbers two and three as well, actually.”

Vanessa giggles, leans in a little closer for good measure.

“So anyway, I think I maybe killed him that day. If you’re going to call yourself an expert, have the balls to back it up,” Kameron finishes her story, and Vanessa is smiling, simpering, tucking her hair behind her ears, laying it all on thick because the girl in the living room she’s attempting to stop thinking about has got her fingers curled around that other girl’s hand and she’s stroking a little strip of skin with her thumb the way she used to do to Vanessa’s hand across the table if they were out having dinner somewhere nice.

“So how much can you lift?” Vanessa asks, and if she’s leaning against the counter and pushing her chest out just a little then it’s nobody’s business but her own.

Kameron smirks at her and Vanessa finds herself blushing, the other girl obviously wise to what she’s trying to do. “Well I can squat 80 kilos?”

Vanessa frowns. “Much is that?”

“You know those bags of flour you get from the shop?” Kameron tilts her head, and Vanessa nods. “Eighty of those.”

Vanessa’s eyes fly wide open. She gives a little laugh of disbelief. “Stop lyin’, there’s no way that’s possible!”

Kameron is laughing at her reaction, and it gives Vanessa a little feeling of triumph. Suddenly she forms an idea. “Bet you couldn’t squat me.”

Vanessa feels something curl low in her gut as Kameron raises an eyebrow at her. “Is that a challenge?”

“Might be.”

There’s a little glint in Kameron’s eyes as she suddenly picks Vanessa up, ignores the way she squeals and laughs and goes a little over the top as she fires off some squats whilst cradling Vanessa in her arms as if she weighs nothing at all. Vanessa takes advantage of the situation to throw her arms around Kameron’s neck, and as Kameron deposits her back on the kitchen tiles Vanessa makes a big show of trailing her hands down past her collarbones and smiling up at her a little.

It occurs to Vanessa that she’s not looked over to the sofa in a little while and sure enough, her ex flicks her gaze quickly back to the girl in front of her as if she’s been caught staring.

Vanessa smiles triumphantly at Kameron before hopping up to sit on the countertop. If it gives whoever’s in the living room a better view of her thighs, then that’s just a happy coincidence.

***

Brooke doesn’t know how long she’s been talking to Priyanka. Could’ve been an hour, could’ve been three, but all she knows is that she needs another drink. Preferably some of the red concoction that Priyanka managed to procure from the punch bowl.

The problem is, all of the alcohol is in the kitchen. Where she is. With the fucking lesbian bodybuilder she’s chatting up. But then said lesbian bodybuilder leaves the room- not before giving her a kiss on the cheek that sends Brooke’s blood pressure skyrocketing, but it means that she’s alone.

Without knowing what possesses her, Brooke turns to Priyanka and motions to her empty cup. “You want another?”

“Yes please,” she replies politely, and Brooke’s heart melts a little bit. Priyanka is nice, and she’s sweet.

But she’s not her.

So Brooke stands up, tugs down her top a little bit before walking tall through to the kitchen. She’s sat on the countertop with her legs crossed and her thighs look entirely too good. Brooke is consumed by the sudden need to kiss all the way up them like she used to and she still hasn’t forgotten how soft her skin is or the way it smells like cocoa butter.

She’s on her phone as Brooke approaches but her eyes flick up to look at her as Brooke walks in, stands right up close beside her as she reaches for two plastic cups and then the punch ladle. She wishes she’d picked a skirt or something that exposes her legs because the outside of her ex’s thigh is touching hers and the spark that’s just sent about thirty volts of electricity through Brooke’s nerve endings is delicious.

They don’t speak. Brooke wants to say something, but her ex hasn’t broken the stalemate and therefore neither will she. She’s consumed with longing. She misses her. She misses her so much. But this isn’t the kind of place for that conversation, not that she’d deign Brooke with any of her time anyway. As she tips the red liquid into the plastic cup, Brooke becomes acutely aware of the fact that her ex has uncrossed her legs, and that she’s deliberately pressing her thigh against her. She knows what she’s doing. So much of Brooke wants to grab her jaw and smash their lips together, press her body right up against hers and rip her clothes off in the middle of the kitchen at her best friend’s house party, but she doesn’t. Instead, Brooke flips her long, blonde hair over one shoulder, exposing a strip of her neck that her ex used to love kissing all the way up and marking with red and purple hickies.

From the way her gaze darkens as Brooke sneaks a look at her, she’s thinking about the same thing right this second.

Brooke’s filled up her cups so she’s ready to go back through to the living room, back through to Priyanka and the prospect of taking her home that night and pretending she’s the girl on the countertop beside her. But all of that, all of those prospects aren’t as good as the reaction she gets as Brooke reaches out and touches her ex’s knee, lets her fingers skate up the exposed strip of inner thigh as she leans in close and whispers quickly into her ear.

“She looks a little bit like me.”

Before Brooke turns and walks back into the living room, she catches the look on her face: shocked, infuriated, and her gaze absolutely filled with lust.

Brooke ignores the heavy throb between her thighs as she makes her way back to her position on the couch.

***

Vanessa scrolls. Scrolls through her camera roll, back to all the ridiculous selfies they took together- silly ones lying on the grass at the park, glam ones before they went off to Scarlet’s fancy 21st, cute ones buried under the duvet after sex where they pulled horrific faces and laughed and laughed and still found the other the most beautiful person in the world. She scrolls through their texts, all the way back to when they first met at Jackie’s flat party and started messaging each other all tentative and shy and flirty.

She misses her. She doesn’t even remember what they had that stupid fight about now, and she should, it should have been something important because it’s the reason everything came crashing down around her. Vanessa misses the way she’d always be the first one to wake up and bring her cups of coffee, she misses the way they’d both get all excited if they went for a walk and saw a neighbourhood cat, she misses that Snow Fairy body spray she would wear at Christmas time that smelt of candyfloss and jelly beans and made Vanessa want to cuddle her and never let go.

She wishes she hadn’t let go. And now she’s over there, laughing like a dumb blonde airhead with that girl she just got punch for. Vanessa narrows her gaze. If anything, that girl looks more like her than Kameron looks like her ex. They both have dark skin (although they’re completely different shades), and dark eyes (Vanessa’s guessing), and…

Yeah, that’s probably where their similarities end.  

“Hey! Sorry. I bumped into this girl I knew from class last year, hadn’t seen her in ages,” Kameron breezes back in. She clearly registers Vanessa’s radiating the same vibes as a cat that’s been taunted too many times with a laser pointer, and she cocks an eyebrow at her suspiciously. “Who pissed in your cereal?”

Vanessa pauses. She’s loath to bring her ex up again with Kameron. She’s trying hard to forget about her, and Kameron is beautiful and would probably treat her right and might end up being the one she’s never realised she’s been looking for.

And then she hears that laugh ricochet through the house again, and she visibly winces.

“Right. The ex,” Kameron grimaces. Vanessa feels herself cringe a little bit. Kameron’s clearly realised that she’s going to get nowhere with a girl who’s still hung up on somebody else, and to be honest Vanessa doesn’t blame her.

“I’m sorry,” Vanessa says, embarrassed. “You’re real sweet. But I think I’ll prolly just end up goin’ home by myself. Might cry so hard into a tub of Chew Chew that the caramel turns salted. Who knows.”

Kameron lets out a warm, genuine laugh, touches her arm in a way that makes Vanessa wish she wasn’t so hung up on her ex still. “Well, I hope your night doesn’t end up as sad as all that.”

With that, Kameron pulls her into a hug. She’s warm and soft and Vanessa finds herself sighing a little, not realising how tight her chest had become until now. Suddenly, she feels Kameron’s chest judder in a laugh.

“What?”

Kameron murmurs against Vanessa’s ear. “Your girl’s looking over.”

Vanessa isn’t bothered. “She prolly don’t give a fuck.”

Kameron pulls away a little, a smirk on her lips. “Well. Kiss me so she does.”

So Vanessa doesn’t think and instead she simply follows orders, pulls Kameron in so that her glossy lips press against her own and kisses her deeply, presses her body against hers if only so she can add to the illusion that she’s kissing someone else. The kiss is fine- the kiss is good- but it’s not what she wants, and selfishly Vanessa opens her eyes, lets her gaze travel through to the living room and the girl on the sofa, and-

Mother fucker.

Vanessa locks eyes with her while she’s got her own tongue down that other girl’s throat and a hand in her orange hair. She can’t believe it. Can’t fucking believe it. Her ex has seen her kissing Kameron and she’s tried to beat her at her own game. Vanessa keeps her eyes on her as she brings a hand up to Kameron’s jaw, pulling her closer to her. When her ex’s eyes snap shut like she’s seen something she doesn’t like, Vanessa calls that a win.

Satisfied, Vanessa pulls away and Kameron follows her lead. They share a goodbye and Vanessa is left on her own. She can’t stop looking at the scene in the living room that isn’t yet over. She thinks about fingers on her thigh and a whisper in her ear and the way that they both so clearly want each other Vanessa’s amazed the house hasn’t burnt down with the tension of it all yet.

So, as the two girls on the sofa break away, Vanessa does what any self-confessed bad bitch would do- smooths her skirt down, tosses her hair over her shoulder, and walks through to the next room. Vanessa watches her ex react- she’s still talking to that girl but her eyes keep darting right, right, right, falling on her with every step she takes. Her body language is becoming jittery, nervous, as if Vanessa’s about to spoil this little cosy setup she’s got going with fucking Lavagirl on the sofa.

And when Vanessa makes and then holds eye contact with her before sharply turning in the direction of the bathroom, she doesn’t look back. Even when she hears her telling the girl that she’ll be back in a second, and feels the presence of someone following behind her.

Vanessa skips past the queue of people that has accumulated outside the small bathroom, jumps in front of a girl with bad extensions who’s about to go in and who yells at her in outrage. She’s silenced, however, by the way the girl following her closes the door and slides the lock in place, turning around with pure rage on her face. Vanessa smirks.

“Wow. Didn’t know watching girls pee was one of your kinks.”

“Shut the hell up,” she bites back, taking two steps towards her and setting Vanessa’s heart off like a flare. “It’s pretty fucking obvious you wanted me to follow you.”

“See, Brooke, the only way I’m viewing this situation is that you’re the one who wants me,” Vanessa replies, already feeling that flirtatious sense of excitement as she casts a slow gaze up and down Brooke’s body. It’s the way she knows exactly how this is going to end that sends a tingle down her spine and between her legs, and the way Brooke’s looking at her with her eyes all dark is doing nothing to dissipate that feeling.

“Why are you so pressed? I wasn’t the one standing flirting all night with the fucking…lesbian final boss in the kitchen,” Brooke rolls her eyes, and the knowledge that she’s been riled enough to reference Kameron is a win in Vanessa’s book.

“Says the girl who had Ginger Spice in her lap?” Vanessa raises an eyebrow questioningly. They’re both close now, and the cracked white tiles are pressing against Vanessa’s back but she doesn’t mind the cold because every single inch of her body is on fire.

“What was your plan for tonight? Go home with a girl who looks like me and then spend the whole night pretending she fucks you like I do? That it?” Brooke leans in and murmurs. Vanessa knows it’s meant to mock her but she can’t shake the feeling that Brooke’s only giving her what she wants. She’s brought it up now, and images of nights spent in Brooke’s bed are burning through Vanessa’s mind like a wildfire.

Christ, she misses her so much. And if Brooke’s playing a game here, then Vanessa decides she’s going to play one of her own.

“You couldn’t make me scream if your life depended on it,” she smirks at her, deliberately making her voice all low and sultry, and Vanessa’s heart gives a leap at the way Brooke’s pupils visibly dilate in response. She’s close now; bodies not separated by much, lips within kissing distance. God, Vanessa wants to kiss her so badly. Get the pink lipstick she’s wearing smudged all over her lips, pressed against her neck, marked onto her collarbones.

“So…leading me into a toilet and hitting me with playground-level goading. Classy. Good to see you’re still as childish as you were when we broke up,” Brooke mutters in response. Her words are harsh but her touch is gentle as she rests her hands on Vanessa’s hips and in turn sends her pulse through the ceiling.

“You were the one that followed me,” Vanessa cocks an eyebrow, challenging her. Vanessa knows Brooke, she knows she’s proud and takes herself entirely too seriously and she knows it won’t be long until she cracks, she just needs to taunt her enough. So Vanessa rests her palms against the tiles, looks down at where Brooke’s thumbs are swiping against the lace of her bodysuit at her waist, and smiles a little. “Because you still want me.”

Brooke’s face screws up, clearly battling some inner turmoil. She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head, but she leans in a little so that their bodies become pressed together. Vanessa lets out a little sigh of satisfaction, the contact between them delicious and satisfying. Brooke’s eyes are still shut as she hisses out a response.

“Fuck…don’t want you…”

“Seemed like you wanted me in the kitchen earlier,” Vanessa whispers a reply. Brooke’s rested her forehead on the wall beside her, seemingly in a bid to avoid eye contact, but one of her hands has dropped down to trace patterns along the outside of Vanessa’s thigh and it’s giving away what she wants. Brooke’s neck is exposed like this so Vanessa leans in a little, lets her lips skate over her skin as she pushes things a little further. “Seems like you want me now. You want me so bad.”

“Swear to God if you don’t fucking shut up…” Brooke hisses out against Vanessa’s own neck, sending shockwaves all the way from the top of her spine right down to the base and ending with a sting of heat striking between her legs and making her throb.

“What, baby? What are you gonna do?”

Brooke nuzzles her head into the crook of her neck, so close to kissing it that Vanessa hears herself letting out a whine into the tiny bathroom.

“Well, I’m not going to give you what you want.”

“Even if it’s what you want too?”

“We broke up…we didn’t work,” Brooke insists, even though she’s pushing her knee in between Vanessa’s legs so that her thigh is right up against her. Vanessa thinks this is a dangerous game considering how wet she can feel herself becoming and the fact that Brooke’s jeans are light blue denim, but she shifts against her anyway and shivers a little in delight.

“We worked in some aspects,” Vanessa teases her, relenting a little and bringing her hands up to paw at the exposed skin at Brooke’s waist. She’s got a theory that there’s no bra under that crop top and she wants to build some evidence around it, so she traces her fingers up Brooke’s spine.

When she doesn’t feel the bump of a clasp, her brain hotwires.

Brooke breathes out heavily against her neck in response to her touches, takes her knee away which makes Vanessa’s heart plummet in disappointment and a whine leap out of her mouth. As Brooke transfers the hand that’s on her hip to the inside of her thigh, Vanessa is stunned into silence as she realises what she’s trying to do. Brooke is having some difficulty, though, getting Vanessa’s legs spread any wider because of her skirt.

“This is impossible, fuck,” Brooke hisses in frustration, before scrabbling both hands up to the silver zip that runs from the waistband all the way to the hem and tugging it down.

Vanessa’s skirt is on the floor and her heart rate is through the roof and the pulse between her legs is fast becoming too much to handle. So when Brooke presses her fingers against the satin of her underwear and finally, mercifully gives her some contact, Vanessa can’t help but let out a tiny giggle of relief. All the big talk and games are gone now that Brooke’s giving Vanessa exactly what she’s wanted all night, exactly what they’ve both wanted all night, and now all Vanessa wants to do is worship her, remind her of what Brooke knows already- that she can’t pretend anyone knows her body like she does, knows exactly how to push her to the edge and hold her there before finally offering her the most blissful kind of release.  

“Knew it.”

“I’m drunk, this means nothing,” Brooke mouths against her neck. Vanessa’s eyes snap open only for her to roll them.

“You’re drunk off two glasses of punch?”

“Oh what, you’re monitoring my drinks now? Psycho,” Brooke shakes her head against Vanessa’s neck, eliciting a gasp out of her as she bites down gently on her collarbone then instantly kisses it better. Vanessa knows Brooke’s only embarrassed because she’s called her out- that they can’t blame this on the alcohol, that there’s only so much damage that fruit juice and lemonade and a couple of swigs of vodka are going to do, and the fact they’re doing all of this while they’re at the most mildly tipsy means something that neither of them want to address.

But Vanessa doesn’t focus on all this for long, because Brooke’s fingers are too light against her and her hips are raised up off the tiles trying to grind down against them. She decides to tease Brooke herself- dances her fingers up to push them into Brooke’s hair and tug at it gently the way she used to like. The action makes her moan against her neck, and Vanessa is rewarded by Brooke pressing her fingers against her ever-so-slightly harder, leaning against her so that Vanessa is now effectively pinned against the wall. Even with all of this, she wants more. She wants Brooke’s fingers curling inside her and her thumb on her clit. Most of all, though, she wants to kiss her and to be kissed back, because Brooke’s still not met her lips yet and the fact she hasn’t is becoming more heightened and tense than anything physical they’re caught up in now.

So Vanessa decides to taunt her a little more. Because it’s fun, and it gets a reaction out of her, and if she’s trying to get a rise out of Brooke it means she’s not saying the things she wants to say but are far too risky to even consider.

“This all you got? You scared to fuck me in case I realise you ain’t that special?” she turns her head so that her lips skate across Brooke’s neck. “…or has it been so long that you forgot how to?”

“Fucking look at yourself,” Brooke hisses into her ear in a way that makes Vanessa want to squeal. “Begging for it against the wall in the bathroom at a house party. Desperate little bitch.”

“But you love it, don’t you, baby?” Vanessa bites back, cutting herself off with a moan as Brooke pulls her thong to one side, teases her slit with two fingers and avoids her clit completely, and Vanessa is so tense and frustrated that she feels as if she’ll explode.

Brooke’s breath is shallow against her neck, and there’s a note of awe to her voice as she speaks. “Fuck, V’nessa, you’re so wet…I’m-”

BANG BANG BANG. The slam against the door and the irritated yelling of some drunk girl outside makes them both jump, Vanessa taking one of Brooke’s arms and Brooke’s head lurching up from Vanessa’s neck sharply. They’re locked in an almost protective kind of embrace and it makes her heart hurt only a tiny bit. There’s a pause in which neither of them move but Brooke’s still got two of her fingers dangerously close to being inside her, and Vanessa’s fucked if she’s got this far and she’s not even going to get what she wants out of the situation.

So she locks eyes with Brooke, whose lipstick is all smudged and whose chest is heaving and whose pupils are still wide like a full moon, and she plays her ace.

“You gonna make me come or not? ‘Cuz I can always get that girl I was talking to in the kitchen to come an’ finish what you started.”

“Son of a bitch-” Brooke growls, before she all but slams both fingers inside her and cuts off Vanessa’s resulting moan with her mouth, kissing her deeply and sliding her tongue over hers. It’s exactly what Vanessa was hoping for and Brooke’s fingers feel even better than she remembers as she sinks down to meet her knuckles, her whining muffled by Brooke’s tongue as she pulses her fingers inside her the way she always used to, the way that used to drive Vanessa absolutely wild and still does.

Their kiss breaks apart, leaving them both with their foreheads pressed against each other. Vanessa feels her eyes flutter closed in ecstasy as she rides Brooke’s fingers, Brooke matching her pace and the pair of them falling into a rhythm that only serves to draw Vanessa closer and closer to the edge.

Vanessa knows Brooke can do more, though. So she twists her head to reach her neck, kisses up it and then puts her lips to her ear.

“Fuck…what would that girl you were talking to say if she knew you were fucking your ex in the bathroom right now…if she knew the only reason you were even entertaining her was just to get my attention…she’d be so heartbroken…you’re so mean- ah!”

Brooke sucks a hickey into her neck then murmurs against it. “You love it when I’m mean, don’t you?”

“Love it so much,” Vanessa replies, gasping as Brooke gently flicks her thumb against her clit and sends a tidal wave of pleasure crashing into her.

“You like that, babe?”

“Mmm, so much, so much,” Vanessa bites down hard on her lip as Brooke kisses her neck, sucks on a sensitive spot that makes Vanessa frown in concentration because she’s close now, and she’s not going to last much longer with the way that Brooke’s rubbing her clit in little circles. She doesn’t want her to stop so she begins some sort of sacreligious incoherent prayer, sighing out into the bathroom and not even caring who’s on the other side of the door. “Fuck, Brooke, so good…so fuckin’ amazing…fuck yes, right there…”

“You sound so pretty when you want to come,” Brooke breathes out all at once, the validation pushing Vanessa ever so close to the edge.

“Want to…want to so bad…”

“You wanna come?” Brooke taunts her, and Vanessa is tantalisinglyclose now so she confirms Brooke’s question with a whine. Her eyes snap open when Brooke brings her head up off her shoulder again, fixes her with searing hot eye contact. “Say you miss me.”

Vanessa is so wound up that she thinks she’s misheard her. “What?”

“Say you miss me and I’ll let you come,” Brooke repeats, as if she’s just made a comment about the weather.

Part of Vanessa freezes up because oh- Brooke misses her too. This isn’t just some pathetic, one-sided thing. This isn’t just about Vanessa riding Brooke’s fingers in a run-down bathroom, this is about feelings and regret and a second chance. So Vanessa takes her hands that’ve been anchored around Brooke’s neck so far and cups her jaw, pulls her close so their noses touch.

“Miss you…miss you so fucking much.”

Vanessa crashes her lips against Brooke’s and their kiss is messier this time but it’s still hot and wet and entirely too much for Vanessa to cope with. She’s completely on the precipice now so she breaks away to murmur against Brooke’s lips.

“Miss you…miss this…”

“Miss you too,” Brooke says quietly, kissing her frantically as she teases Vanessa’s clit with her thumb and crooks her fingers inside her and leaves her so close she’s almost crumbling. “You’re so perfect, fuck…perfect fucking princess, Jesus, Vanessa, fucking look at you…God, want you so much…”

“All yours, baby, all yours, nobody else’s,” Vanessa mouths against her lips. Her hair’s all in her face and her legs are aching but it’s happening, Vanessa can feel it, and so she can only squeak out a Brooke, I’m- before her orgasm hits her like a tsunami and she cries out into the bathroom, high-pitched and loud as she feels herself throb relentlessly against Brooke’s fingers, completely overwhelmed.

There’s an almost-silence as Vanessa’s breathing levels out and Brooke slides her fingers out from inside her. Vanessa watches her, flushed and sheepish, try to figure out what to do with them until eventually she remembers what room of the house they’re in and washes her hands. The running water gives Vanessa some time to think. Brooke misses her. She misses Brooke. They’re on the same page, and Vanessa’s just had the best sex she’s had in months (the only sex she’s had in months).

So when Brooke turns around and can’t quite meet her eyes, Vanessa takes a deep breath and collects herself.

“Hey,” she says, soft and quiet. “Why don’t we go back to mine? I can, uh…help you out. An’ then we can get pizza and talk?”

Brooke’s face washes over with relief, and it makes Vanessa’s heart pole vault into the air. She crosses over to her from the sink, takes both of her hands in hers.

“That’s assuming…” she begins, a wicked smile appearing on her face. “…we can wait that long to finish what we started.”

And when Vanessa pulls her back in again and she feels Brooke smile against her lips, it makes her think maybe everything will be okay after all.

***

Priyanka has been standing outside the bathroom in the seven-person queue for what could be twenty minutes but could also equally be half an hour. She grips her plastic cup tighter in her hand and puffs out a sigh. Rumours have filtered through the grapevine that there’s two people banging in there. Priyanka’s happy for them. Except she’s not. She’s wound up and frustrated. Brooke’s clearly ghosted her and Lemon’s nowhere to be found and now she’s stuck alone at a party with an ever-growing need to pee.

She’s jolted out of her moping by a tall blonde with black sweeps of eyeliner on her brown eyes and muscles that make Priyanka’s mouth dry up. She’s joined the queue and she’s said something to her but Priyanka can only look at her with a slack jaw and wide eyes because Jesus Fucking Christ she’s hot as hell and she’s appeared right in front of her. It’s definitely a sign.

“Are you…okay?” the girl asks, her face turning concerned. Priyanka snaps out of her daze, instantly turns the charm up to one hundred. Or attempts to, at least.

“No, shit, sorry, yeah. I’m good. I just got distracted by…” Priyanka gestures wildly at the girl in front of her. “…you. This. All of this.”

She’s a few glasses of punch down but she knows it’s not that that’s rendering her incapable of stringing a sentence together. Nevertheless, the girl in front of her is laughing and her body language is warming up.

“I just asked if this was the queue,” she repeats, a smirk on her face.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been here ages. Think some people have actually started going out to the garden to pee. Yvie’s gonna wake up tomorrow with her flowers growing the size of a fucking double-decker bus.”

The girl bursts out laughing and shows a row of shiny white teeth. She’s cute. Very cute. She steps forward a little to touch Priyanka’s arm, fixes her with a smile.

“You’re funny.”

She’s flirting. This is flirting. Priyanka’s into it.

“No, I’m Priyanka,” she fires back, winking at her cheekily. The girl’s laughing again, and as she tails off she cocks her head to look at her.

“I’m Kameron,” she says. Her voice is smooth like melted butter and her eyes are dark and twinkly and Priyanka thinks fuck it, might as well try. She shrugs before stepping closer, lessening the gap between them.

“Nice to meet you, Kameron. Wanna make out?”

[random-mha-thoughts]

Skater Boy (Kirishima x Reader)

Pairing: Kirishima x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: College!AU; You’re going to get pizza and you run into a group of skaters from your university

Word count: 2,640

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

a/n: I was talking to my cousin one day and the thought just suddenly hit me, What if the Bakusquad were skateboarders?  And so this idea was born!  Not the best but I think it’s cute, and he deserves fluff after I just wrote angst for him.

"I think I might actually fail that class," I deflate, hunched over.  "I study until I'm blue in the face and I still do bad on the exams.  And he doesn't even curve the grades!"

Tzuyu raises an eyebrow at me.  "(Y/n), you have a B in that class, why are you so worried?"

"Because I want an A!" I burst out as we walk up the parking lot of the pizza shop.  "It's still only the middle of the semester, I need a good enough cushion just in case I slip up on the last few exams.  I can't get another C!"

My dark haired friend grabs my shoulders and looks me in the eye.  "You're freaking out for nothing, just chill.  Do something fun for a change."

I sigh exasperatedly.  "I don't have time for fun.  I need enough time to study and do my homework, and I need time to procrastinate because of how stressed I am."  She doesn't understand since she's not a science major, she's a lucky Communications major.

She rolls her eyes.  "If you keep going like this, you'll start having premature grays hairs.  And you'll look older than you already do."

I shove her playfully.  "Are you saying I look older than my age?"

"Yup.  And it doesn't help that you have resting bitch face either."

I jump in front of her to jokingly insult her too.  "You're-"

"Incoming!"

Stepping backwards, the ground underneath my foot is slightly higher and shaky, making my leg jerk to the side instinctively and I land square on my ass, almost knocking into the shop's glass doors.  My head follows the sound of wheels rolling to see a skateboard gliding away from us.

"Hey, stupid."  A shadow casts over me and I meet the eyes of a pretty annoyed ash-blond boy, his hands in his forest green cargo pants pockets.  He looks down his nose at me with a grimace.  "That was my board you tripped on."

I blink, not knowing what he expects me to say.  "Um.  Sorry?"

Tzuyu helps me off the floor.  "Why would you let it roll away if you didn't want anyone touching it?"

He grabs it from the small distance it traveled, kicking the edge and gripping it by the metal between the wheels.  His board is almost all black with a giant white skull in the middle surrounded by orange and yellow flames.  "We warned you, not our fault you stepped on it like an amateur."

My gaze flicks briefly to the group of other people hanging around the side of the building before returning back to him.  "All you said was 'Incoming,' how were we supposed to know what to watch out for?"

The boy rolls his eyes and swaggers up to me.  Being almost an entire head taller, he slouches over me.  "You should've know to just freeze up," he growls.

The combination of his height towering over me and his murderous crimson eyes makes me gulp, but stand my ground.  I cross my arms over my chest.  "M-Maybe if you weren't so bad at skateboarding, you wouldn't have messed up for it to roll away from you."

The boy growls and bares his teeth at me.  "You wanna say that again?!"

"Okay, calm down, dude, it was just an accident."  A red-headed friend of the boy runs up and pushes him away when I flinch into Tzuyu's arms behind me.  "You don't have to pick a fight with everyone you meet, just chill."

The porcupine-haired boy grumbles under his breath and walks back to the rest of his group.

I turn to the saintly friend.  "Thank you-"

As soon as he turns around, the words get jumbled in my throat.  The front of his hair is so cutely tucked over his face under his black beanie.  His features give off a boyish charm with sharp features like his eyes and his jawline.  His beaming smile puts blindingly white sharp teeth on display as his eyes crinkle up.  "Sorry about him, he's a bit of a hothead."

"It's okay!" I say quickly, waving my hands in front of me and looking down.  My eyes meet with his board, the pattern a scarlet matching his hair color with black lettering outlining the initials RR.  "You have a pretty cool board.  Matches your hair."  It's a dumb compliment and I know it is, I'm just trying to make conversation.

He picks it up by the sides and admires it himself.  "You like it?  Painted it myself!  I bought the wheels, but I sprayed the trucks black because I thought it looked cooler."

"Seems like a personification of you."  You sound so lame and boring, why would you say that?

"It's new, I'm trying to get it scratched up and everything."  He holds it with one hand at his side and holds his hand out to me, flashing another brilliant smile.  "I'm Eijirou Kirishima by the way!"

Tzuyu and I introduce ourselves.  "Do you go to the university here?" my friend asks.

"Yeah, we all do," he motions to the rest of them.  "We just like to come out and chill every once in a while, usually we're at the park though."

I know which one he's talking about.  About a block away, opposite the direction of our university, is a skate park that I've seen whenever we pass by here to get food.

Tzuyu clears her throat and nudges me from behind and I shoot her a look to stop.

"Yo, Kiri!  We're goin' back to the park, you comin'?"  One of the boys with bright blond hair and a black hoodie calls out.

Kirishima's head flits back and forth between us and his friends.  "I'll meet up with you guys later!" he answers before turning his attention back to us.  "I can treat you guys to lunch since Bakugou was being an ass if you want?"

My eyes widen.  "You don't have-"

"Sure, why not?" Tzu talks over me and grabs my arm.  "Let's go grab a table!"

I will kill everything you love.

.

Tzuyu does most of the talking while I eat my pizza like a silent bunny.  We find out he's an Exercise Science major with an average GPA.  The most surprising thin is that his loudmouth friend who almost jumped us is a pretty bright student.

"You really can't tell, he's such a hothead," Tzu comments.

"Yeah, he's been trying to work on it," Kirishima laughs and rubs the back of his head.  "But he's a really smart guy, I usually ask him to explain stuff I don't understand."

I stare at the board he's laid down on the seat next to him.  We're spread out inside a semicircle booth near the window, so it's right next to me.  I stealthily reach out to spin one of the white and red wheels.  Some part of me feels like a child because I get easily amused by these things.

"You must really like my board."

My heart lurches when I realize I've been caught, my face turning red when I meet his beaming face.  "I'm sorry for touching it."  I scoot away from it a little bit.

"No need to apologize, I don't mind."  He pushes it towards me and leans his arms on the back of the cushioned seats.  "Do you skate?"

I fiddle with the wheels again.  "I have a board, actually, but I can't really skate."  It's at my house, under my bed where I can't see it.

"That's cool, do you have a picture?" his scarlet eyes light up in excitement."

"No, I don't."  I deleted it.  "I, uh, dated someone who bought it for me and was supposed to teach me how to skate."

"And you broke up?" Kirishima finishes, his expression neutralized to a blank slate.

Damnit, look what you did, you've made everyone uncomfortable now.  I take a last bite of my pizza, leaving the crust.  Usually Tzuyu eats it for me.

Kirishima eyes it and his face turns a bit red, darting away from me.  "Would it be weird to ask if I can eat your crust?"

I feel my own face get hot at his suggestion.  Tzuyu coughs to hide her giggle and nods slightly.  "Sure, go ahead," I manage to get out shakily.

He doesn't even hesitate to grab it once he has permission, happily chewing at it.  Tzuyu bites her lip to keep herself at my obviously red face.  Don't think about it, that's so childish, I chant to myself.

He licks his lips when he's finished.  "So, (Y/n), do you still wanna learn?"

My entire body erupts in a strange combination of warmth and cold.  I never really thought about skating after I broke up with the previous guy.  It's just been sitting under my bed because  I unconsciously can't bring myself to remind myself of anything about him.  It wouldn't be a bad idea, but I also don't really want to embarrass myself in front of another cute guy.

Noticing my hesitation, Kirishima offers a warm smile.  "You don't have to worry about falling in front of me!  I couldn't stay on the board at first either!"

I can't imagine it, but something about his affable, trusting demeanor draws me to him.  "I guess it wouldn't hurt to try."

"Awesome!"  His entire face lights up and his eyes crinkle up again.

"You guys can go ahead, I'm going back to the dorms to study," Tzuyu gets up to throw her plate away.  When Kirishima isn't looking, she wiggles her eyebrows and mouths, "Have fun."

"That's too bad.  It was nice meeting you!"

I shake my head quickly at her, but she just sticks her tongue out at me and leaves.

The redhead grabs his board and stands up.  "Shall we?"

Lord, I'm gonna die today.

.

Kirishima had already got me to feel out my balance standing on the grass and was now planing on moving me to the concrete.  Cue all my fears of falling off and busting my head open.

"Do you know which stance you're more comfortable standing with?" he asks, placing the board in front of me near a pole in the parking lot.

"I think so?"  I'm not familiar with it, but I can switch it up later.

"Alright, hold onto the pole and step up.  I'll stand in front of you just in case you fall forward, just be careful falling backwards."  He's been extra patient with me this whole time, it's endearing.

"Can you clone yourself so you can be in both places?" I ask feebly, clasping my hands in front of me, staring at the little board.

He chuckles, "I wish I could.  You'll do fine, I'll try to catch you either way."

I take a breath, holding onto the pole and placing my foot on the board.  I don't want to look like a coward in front of Kirishima, so I grasp the metal tightly and plant my other foot, wobbling a little in place and whining.

"You're doing good!  Are you cool so far?"  He moves to stand on the side where my body faces forward.

"I think so?"  My blood pumps with adrenaline and all I want to do is leap off and go back to the dorms.  Damnit Tzu, why did you leave me here?

"Okay, whenever you're ready, just push off and roll!"

My front fist clenches in front of me, every instinct telling me not to let go of the pole.  "You'll catch me, right?" I confirm, my legs shaking in anticipation.

"Yup!"  He holds his hands out, palms up and ready.  "Ready when you are!"

Don't be a coward, just do it.  I push off weakly and start rolling only slightly faster than a snail's pace before I shake and spasm, putting a hand on Kirishima's arm instinctively.  "Shit, sorry-" I take my hand off only to windmill my arms and lean backward.

He grabs both of my hands.  "Lean on me, it's okay."

His warm smile and gentle voice makes me feel stupid for being an imbalanced fool.  "I'm sorry, I'm such a klutz, I'm really bad at this," I burst out quickly.

"You're fine, take your time."  The warmth from his hands flusters me even more and I want to let go, but if I do I'll fall over.  "Do you want me to push you so you can try again?  Is it okay?"  I nod, my body still shaking.  I shift to balance with one of his hands as he frees the other.  "I'm gonna let go after I push you, plant yourself."

He pushes at the small of my back gingerly, sending me rolling a little faster than before.  Despite being wobbly, somehow I manage to keep my balance for a few more seconds, the board wavering back and forth under my feet.

"You've got it, good job!" Kirishima praises, keeping a brisk walking pace to keep up.

The board slows to a crawl and I waver, stopping when I grab his arm again and letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding.  "That's not too bad I guess," I exhale.

He chuckles.  "Do you wanna try riding towards me alone this time?"

Please no.  "Okay," I squeak out.

Kirishima stands a good 10 meters away from me.  Starting from the pole, I push off towards him and balance myself across.  When I approach him, he raises his hands up for me to hold onto and walks backwards to match my speed.  "Just step off now."

As soon as I take my back foot off, the front tips forward into the ground.  The mini sensation of falling makes me yelp and lean into him reflexively.

A snicker leaves his lips.  "Not really a successful stop, but at least you did it."

I look up, about to say something snarky, but I realize how close we are to each other.  His eyes bore into mine, and I notice he has a small vertical scar on his right eye.  I'm about to reel back for staring before he grips my hands tighter and brings them down to get closer.  My heart thumps in my ears, body still shaking with adrenaline.

"You know, it won't take just a single day to skate well, you need to practice at it."  His eyes relax into a half-lidded state, one side of his lips lazily turned up slightly.

"Yeah..." I want to curse myself for such a dumb response.  The smell of his wooded cologne wafts from his hoodie.

He bites his lip and glances down at mine briefly and his voice drops an octave.  "Would you like it if we kept this up?  Maybe tomorrow?"

Without thinking, I nod slowly.

"Maybe we can grab something to eat together?" he tips his head, "Like a...date?"

My face flushes.  Oh, this is happening.  I nod again, not trusting my voice to do anything but scream.

A low chuckle resounds from him throat and he quickly brushes a finger to my cheek.  "You're cute.  I'm glad you wanna see me again too."

My chest throbs at the compliment, eyes dropping to the ground.

Another melodious laugh and he lets go of me, grabbing his board that rolled a few feet away.  "Come on, I'll walk you back to your dorm."

I hang back, dazed after what just happened.  The adrenaline is slowly emptying out of my system and my heart is trying to normalize, but replaying how close we were a few moments ago kicks everything back into gear.

"You coming?" he calls from behind.  Seeing my disorientation, he smiles teasingly.  "Have you lost your balance to walk too?  Here," he clasps his free hand with mine gently, "I'll help you."

A new tremor of warmth flows through me.  Oh.

[hanguk-berry]

Hey I have a question about the use of 봐, -In BTS's Zero o' Clock there is a line: 어지러운 밤 문득 시곌 봐, which means "look at the spinning night", right? -In 20cm by TXT the line "발을 맞춰 자라났나 봐" means must have grown in sync. so here 봐 doesn't mean look. I'm a bit confused about the use of 봐 now...

Hello Anon :) first of all, thank you for asking. I'll try my best to explain! [Update May 12:... I kind of forgot this was in my drafts, so that's why I answering your question this late...I deeply apologise :( ]

Your first example was the lyrics from BTS' Zero o'clock.

"어지러운 밤 문득 시곌 봐."

Let's break this sentence down first:

어지럽다 = dizzy (of [complex] emotions)

-> something is not solved and makes you 'tired'

밤 = night

문득 = suddenly

-> happens impulsively; unexpectedly

시곌 = 시계 + ~(르)ㄹ [object marker] = the clock

-> It is very common in Korean to contract words with the particles. An easy example would be 나는 changing to 난.

봐 = 보다 + ~아/어/여 [present tense] = to look at (sth.)

The entire lyric translated would be something along the lines of:

"In the dizzy/spinning night I suddenly glanced at the clock."

As you can see, 봐 means 'to see/lok/...' in this case :)

Now on to the second lyric by TXT's song:

"발을 맞춰 자라났나 봐"

The whole lyrics during this part goes

"커진 키와 널 향한 맘 / 발을 맞춰 자라났나 봐"

I won't explain the first part since it wasn't part of your question and we want to focus on the meaning of 보다 in the second sentence. But I think it's important to mention it nonetheless, since there is no subject in the second sentence: "발을 맞춰 자라났나 봐"

blue = idiomatic expression

orange = predicate/verb

pink = grammar pattern/sentence ending

See? No subject to be found. But you can find it in the first part, which translates to:

"My height and my feelings towards you that have grown"

There's the subject(s) :)

Now, let's get to the breaking-down part:

발을 맞춰 = 발(을) 맞추다 = "the feet match"

-> This sounds silly, doesn't it? That's because it's an expression used to say 'to be in sync' or 'to be synchronized'

자라났~ = 자라나다 + ~ 았다 [past tense] = to grow (up)

~나 봐 = ~나 보다 = to assume sth./ '(it) seems to...'/'(I) think that...'

The whole sentence reads:

"They (my height and my feelings) must have grown in sync." / "It seems that they have grown in sync."

-> In this case 보다 is part of a grammar pattern which is quite frequently used in Korean to indicate the speakers assumption! So you were totally right: 보다 doesn't always mean "to see", but has several other meanings as well. 보다 almost acts like an auxiliary verb :)

This is the end of this blog >< I am so sorry that it turned out to be sooooo long, but I wanted to provide you a full explanation, a vocabulary list and some help with understanding sentence structure better 🥰🌱💌 I hope this was helpful!

Sources:

@/tearsbypast on IG (a huge thanks goes out 🥺 I was so confused at first lmao) | Naver Dictionary | HiNative | Korean.Go | iTalki | azlyrics

Question: Would you like me to potentially cover grammar patterns with 보다 in a collective, special post? (I don't really know how much there are, so I'll have to make some research, but if it's a few and ya'll want me to, I will definitely try to cover this topic on my blog in the future! 🥺

[royalrumormonger]

RoyalRumormonger’s 10 Most Liked Wedding Gowns

Let me preface this by saying this is based on my own personal style and taste.

10)  Mette Marit Tjessem Høiby, Crown Princess of Norway: Ove Harder Finseth

The clean lines and unusual visual texture create such a dreamy cloud-like gown. I like the homage to Queen Maud. This kind of square neckline and silhouette is so flattering on Mette Marit. I oddly like the quirky bouquet that echos the vertical folds of the skirt. The only thing I would change is to add a simple pair of earrings to round out the look.

9) Alessandra de Osmo, Princess of Hanover: Jorge Vázquez

This gown checks all the boxes for a perfect “Royal wedding gown”. Its got lace, its got a high neckline, its got 3/4 length sleeves. What more could you want? The tiara is stunning too. The only thing that keeps it from being placed higher on my list is the mini sweetheart neckline under the lace. It looks like it’s too tight and is a slightly awkward shape.

8) Meghan Markle, the Duchess of Sussex: Clare Waight Keller for Givenchy

This gown is simple, but elegant, and is the kind of look I had hoped she would wear. I love the clean lines of the neckline and silhouette. Is the tailoring kind of messed up? Yes, but it doesn’t bother me that much. The floral veil embroidery and stunning tiara are the main reasons why it is one of my favorite wedding looks. 

Catherine Middleton, the Duchess of Cambridge: Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen

The construction of this gown is hard to beat. I mean lining underneath the train with heavy canvas to prevent it from bunching while the bride is walking? So genius! That’s why I question the need for someone to carry the train while entering the church. Other than that (and the fit around the bust), it is perfect. I love the lace, I love the design of the skirt, I love the bustle. The veil and tiara are beautifully understated. Looking back, I would definitely soften up the look of her makeup, but that’s me being picky.

7) Katharine Worsley, the Duchess of Kent: John Cavanagh

This is such a classic gown, but with a little twist. The fabric has an unusual pearlescent pattern to it. There is something about the combination of her hair, the veil, and this bandeau tiara that I absolutely adore.

6) Queen Margrethe of Denmark: Jørgen Bender

I know some people don’t like this gown, but it’s not as hated as my next pick. The simplicity of this gown is what makes it work. I love the square neckline and the pleated skirt. The heirloom lace panel in the middle adds interest without taking attention away from the rest of the look. I love the daisy brooch pinned to the middle as a tribute to her mother and grandmother. (Once again I must mention my love of the Danish royal family tradition of wearing this tiara and lace veil!)

5) Letizia Ortiz Rocasolano, the Queen of Spain: Manuel Pertegaz

I really don’t understand why so many people dislike the collar of this gown. To me it adds such a regal air to the look. The silhouette is also very flattering. The gown was made of silk fabric that was woven with silver thread to give it a special sheen which is beautiful. I think the silver and gold embroidery is done sparingly, so it doesn’t overwhelm the rest of the look. The veil, tiara, and the matching fan are just the icing on the cake.

4) Beatrice Borromeo: Armani Privé

I would include all of her wedding looks, but that would make this already long list even longer. The ones that stand out in my mind are her religious ceremony gown shown above, and her reception gown shown below. The lace gown for the ceremony is just perfect. There is nothing bad I can say about this gown. I love the delicate lace and simple shape. The long train and veil are stunning. Her whole look is one that I would wear for my own wedding.

The reception gown look is what dreams are made of.  The angel wing brooches pinned to the back is such a wonderful detail. The long train just tops off the perfection that is this look.

3) Claire Lademacher, Princess of Luxembourg: Elie Saab

It’s Elie Saab, what else needs to be said? Claire looked stunning. I adore this kind of scroll motif pattern and the silhouette is so flattering. The slight difference in color between the fabric and the embroidery/applique makes the details photograph well. The veil is gorgeous and I especially love her choice of tiara.

Stephanie de Lannoy, Hereditary Grand Duchess of Luxembourg: Elie Saab

Once again, it’s Elie Saab. The silver leaf appliques and dreamy lace are to die for. Stephanie looked ethereal! The way the train draped down the stairs inside the cathedral made my heart stop. Just stunning! The only thing I can be picky about is the placement of the tiara, but that’s no big deal.

2) Princess Sofia of Greece and Denmark, Queen of Spain: Jean Dessès

This gown is how you do over the top without looking like a cake topper. I really wish there were better photographs of this gown because it is a work of art. Using silver lamé to back that antique lace is genius! I love the gentle shimmer peaking through. The cape/train adds some interest to the back and the veil with the tiara is stunning.

1) Jane McNeill, Duchess of Buccleuch: ???

I love lace, what can I say? This is my ultimate wedding gown and I would wear this look in a heartbeat. That silhouette is breathtaking! I adore the way the lace mimics the Mayflower tiara and how the simple veil doesn’t distract from the gown. I also like the thin belt that highlights her waist. 10/10!

***Honorable Mention: 

Mary of Teck, Queen of the United Kingdom: Arthur Silk

I have a soft spot for wedding gowns from this era and a soft spot for Queen Mary (the literal icon of this blog!). The materials are to die for! The silk used was patterned with the emblems of shamrock, thistles, and roses. The trimmings were silver thread, Honiton lace, and orange blossoms. Swoon! She also wore her mother’s veil and wore the wedding gift tiara from Queen Victoria tucked behind a spray of orange blossom.