#anyway....this art exhibit was tight

[iammyowngodandmartyr]

TELL ME IM ALIVE

[sunnie-angel]

Part 3: The Invitation

part 2 | part 4 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: an invitation to jason doesn’t go as planned, but you find other ways to spend time together

tags: mostly fluff, some minor angst

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.3k

a/n: this update is still fairly fluffy for this fic, but fair warning it is going to get darker in tone and content as the story continues. my chapter count just keeps increasing from my original outline (💀) so it’s taking longer to reach the darker elements but they will be coming.

The first week of term passes, and life resolves into a series of patterns. Jason slots neatly into your social circles with the confused grace of a man that’s not quite sure how he managed to find himself in his position but is grateful for it anyway. Walking to classes together turns into hanging out with your friends after. Invitations to grab a meal with the group get accepted more often than not. He’s only gone out with the group once, a Friday night that had started out in Danika’s apartment and ended with takeout shawarma from your favourite shop on Gilman Avenue. Snapshots of the evening remain in your memory, the casualties of letting Rei make the drinks.

Between your classes and internship picking up, there hasn’t been any time for going out since. Your days revolve around campus and promises to yourself to visit art exhibitions, to pick up groceries from the farmers’ market, to take advantage of the public library’s programs dissipate unfulfilled. It’s easier somehow, to let those promises to yourself slip away than it is to break a promise to your friends. Monday lunches and Wednesday study afternoons, the occasional movie night organized spontaneously. These commitments are easier to keep because they’re with someone else.

It becomes a weekly thing, then, sharing Jason’s lunch on Mondays. Went a bit overboard meal prepping on the weekends, he always offers, a sheepish hand running through his curls. You notice you’re the only recipient of his overzealousness though, and quietly you wonder. There’s a kind of warmth under your skin every time he pulls out a too large Tupperware container and turns to you, asking for your assistance. You’re not totally altruistic — the food’s too good for you to turn down — but the kind gesture makes you chafe a little bit after a while. All that kindness directed at you, nothing asked for in return, it doesn’t sit right, not with the way you were raised. Kindness was a commodity in the Alley, respected and well-received, but always returned. So you start returning the gesture. Snacks between classes and during study sessions appear out of your bag, pressed into Jason’s hands but never mentioned outright. Your grocery list gets the slightest bit longer but it’s worth it. The gesture soothes that itch in the back of your brain and every time you discover what makes the corners of his eyes crinkle up with pleasure you take careful note of it.

You’d thought, first, about returning his gesture in kind. A first text message with a pasta recipe you’ve never been able to replicate quite so perfectly never really materializes into the connection you’d hoped it would.

You: Dr Okafor said the quiz’s only on week 1-3 right?

You: sidenote I can’t quite get the pasta sauce right, you sure there’s nothing missing from the recipe you sent me?

Jason: weeks 1-4

Jason: shouldn’t be

Jason: you’re only adding the fresh herbs after you deglaze the pan right?

You: Yeah every time

Biting your bottom lip, you hesitate before finally pressing send. The cold light of your screen stares back up at you, unfeeling.

You: You could show me?

You: I’ve been meaning to host more at my place, maybe you can teach me and then I could feed you for once?

A typing bubble pops up on his end, then disappears just as abruptly. Nerves have you still chewing at your lip, the pit of your stomach tight with anticipation as it reappears.

Jason: maybe not this time, yeah?

Jason: my bad, it’s on weeks 1-3, week 4’s the next quiz

Taking a deep breath, you scrunch your eyes up. You want to kick yourself for getting your hopes up. The invitation was too personal, too much. It’s one thing to hangout in an apartment in the nicer side of town with friends and a completely different thing to invite him over to your apartment in the notorious Crime Alley to spend time alone. Even if the area is seeing better days under its new management, reputations don’t get shed as easily as snake skin.

You: Sure! No worries :)

You: oh you had me so stressed for a minute there

And it’s true, though you weren’t so much worried about the quiz as you were his response. But he’ll take what he wants from your answer, and you’ll get away with the truth. The truth is, you’ve become unreasonably greedy when it comes to Jason.

Spending time with Jason is easy. He’s got a sharp sense of humour, one that matches your own enough that you joke it’s the only gift Crime Alley gives to all her former residents. He doesn’t laugh often but when he does, you’re the cause of it more often than not.

“I can’t believe you think Nightwing’s best look was Discowing.��

“Wait— so hear me out Jason. Assuming Nightwing’s not, you know, immortal, he’s gonna get old. And when he’s old and in a nursing home he’s gonna tell his grandkids, “well back in my day” and then he’s gonna be able to whip out the Discowing photos. I’m talking intergenerational trauma when the kids realize “Oh no, grandad was hot AND insane.” It’s probably not your best work, but it turns his snorts into full belly laughter. Quite possibly it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve seen.

So it might not be the immediate close connection you were hoping for on that first day of class, but it’s a friendship. One that’s all the more precious for the ways it's been unexpected. The anticipation of seeing him next carries you through the knowing looks you get from your friends. You’re a little more careful now, extending invitations only to places you’re sure won’t make him uncomfortable.

It’s a little hard to describe what exactly it is about Jason that draws you in, besides the obvious. He’s a deeply attractive person, all broad shoulders and sharp angles, though most of the time he seems uncomfortable with the effect his looks have on others. No matter how many times Lina calls him ‘pretty’, the answering red tinge of his ear tips never goes away. Probably, you decide, it has something to do with the enigma of him. The air of loneliness you’d noticed about him on that first day never quite dissipates. Even in the midst of a crowd there’s a sense that he’s still separate somehow. Despite the distance wrapped around him like his leather jacket, he never stops being kind.

Being around Jason is different than being around your other friends. You’ve known Danika since high school and her first cheerful insistence that we’re going to be best friends, I just know it. Lina, Rei, and Will had followed over the span of university, over long hours in the library and pulling out your hair over last minute assignments. They were good friends, good people, but you never lose the feeling that they expect a specific version of you. The version that got out of the Alley and made something of herself, with the uncertainties of where her next meal would come from or if the lights would still be on next week far behind her. Jason doesn’t have that same weight of expectation built on experience. There’s a sense that he’ll accept whatever version you present to him, even the one that still has a complicated relationship to the past and present. It’s been a scarce handful of weeks and yet he’s already seen you at your highs and lows.

The first time you’d shown up to one of your hangouts, just the two of you, bags the size of coins under your eyes hastily covered with concealer and caffeine jitters making your hands twitch like a marionette’s, he’d gently uncurled your fingers from where they’d clutched at your travel mug and simply listened.

“Sorry, sorry,” you’d tried to explain. “I didn’t mean to be late but I slept through my first two alarms and missed the bus I was going to take. Duvall’s midterm is later this week and that class has been killing me. It’s like he’s forgotten what it’s like being a student, and, you know, having more than one class to worry about.”

“D’you need to be off studying then?” He offers the out mildly, like he doesn’t know just how badly your sanity has been hanging on to the thin hope of seeing him before your exam. He doesn’t, so you can’t really fault him for it.

“No! No, it’s fine. I probably need a break from studying before my brain starts melting out of my ears. Or at least that’s what Will tells me.” You purse your lips together in remembered frustration at your friend’s thoughtless comment.

“But you don’t think so?” He prods.

“No, well— I don’t exactly disagree? Just that everyone else already finished their midterms and they don’t exactly have the same pressure of maintaining a scholarship like I do.”

“‘Kay then, let’s study. What’s Duvall got you doing?”

And you’re torn, really you are. This wasn’t supposed to be how your morning went. There was supposed to be coffee, maybe a shared lunch out on the quad in the last of the good (for Gotham) weather and some shared bitching about how truly terrible midterms are. Maybe a meandering discussion of how the pop culture status of the Justice League was diluting their mission, a point of contention you’d found Jason had surprisingly articulate opinions on. But you really need to do well on this exam, the lurking pressures of tight finances and the fear of failure of proving them right a constant soundtrack to your thoughts.

“I— are you sure? This was supposed to be us celebrating you finishing your exams, not studying for mine.”

“Look, you go grab a refill — something not caffeinated — and I’ll find us a spot to sit. We’ll do some practice questions, you’ll feel better about it, and then I won’t have to be mad at Will for bein’ an unthinkin’ ass. Really, you’d be helpin’ me out.” He grins, then stands up from the bench and dusts specks of imaginary dirt off his pants. “Go get your drink, I’ll be waitin’ on you.”

Jason’s pulled a blanket out of some infinite pocket of the universe and settled it right at the base of the big oak in the middle of the quad by the time you return, apple cider in hand. He looks over your course materials as you lean against the tree and sip on your drink, the stress that’s consumed you for the last two weeks starting to ebb. He’s got one knee propped up so he can balance a book on it and the other stretched out, the full length of it only a hair’s breadth from yours. You could swear you could feel the phantom heat of it anyway even through the morning chill. He nudges you with an elbow to get your attention, shows you the cover of the one short story that you’d struggled with the most but Duvall seemed to have the biggest love affair with. You groan, then start trying to break down the text.

“—so if we aren’t meant to be interpreting the main theme as ‘love of beauty’ then it’s got to be ‘love of life’ right?” You think out loud, frustrated with how the meaning of this text has eluded you.

“I don’t think it’s gotta be that specific. If we just assume the narrator’s motivations all start with love, the big capital L kind, then even all the crazy shit at the end makes sense too. Subject doesn’t matter ‘cause it's just there as the object of love.” And Jason’s good, really good at this. Breaking things down and seeing things from just left of centre. Makes you revisit your own ideas, trying to see that grey area where both of your ideas intersect.

“No but she clearly doesn’t love the woman in the first chapter. The narrator admires her and calls her beautiful, but she never interacts with the woman like she does with anyone or anything else in the rest of the text. If she doesn’t love the first woman doesn’t it disprove the idea of generalized love?”

“Maybe,” he breathes out consideringly. “Maybe it's not a generalized love, but I think the narrator does love the first woman. The narrator knows she’s descending into madness — maybe for her, the love was in the absence. ‘Cause if the narrator didn’t let on, then her most loved one wouldn’t be infected with the same rot. And all the other people an’ things were collateral damage, the scales balancin’ themselves with the narrator’s most unselfish act.”

“Okay, but isn’t that the most selfish part though? The narrator makes sure that there’s no one else around to hold her accountable for her own mistakes. And part of it’s madness, I’ll buy that, but I don’t think it’s really love if the narrator can bear to force the woman to a distance. The narrator is fully aware as she gives in to her paranoia and forces the woman into the distance between them. ”

Jason hums thoughtfully, but you can tell by the tone that he doesn’t fully agree with you. “I don’t think we’re gonna agree on this, but if you lay out all your thoughts just like that on paper you’ll ace the exam. Why don’t we do this one too?” He pulls out another short story from the pile on the blanket, and you grin, because this one, this one you could talk about for hours.

Being with Jason is easy. When you’re close enough to reach out and run your fingers through his curls if only you were brave enough. When you’re close enough to get a whisper of his cologne as he reaches past you for something and you can hear the creak of leather as it stretches over his bicep. Yes, being with Jason is easy. Just as long as it’s on his terms and by his invitation.

Part 4

[piftamere]

one - don't change the subject (wc : 800)

she was ordering herself her last drink when she received the text, the sweaty crowd pushing her against the bar. she’s now staring into space, the sounds around blurring into an incomprehensible mess.

the bartender hands over the drink, snapping her out of her daze. she downs it in one go, and orders another one. and another. until she can’t tell what she’s feeling.

when she wakes up, blurry memories from the night before come back to her. her head hurts, she feels heavy, she rubs her eyes, trying to make sense of everything.

except, she’s not in her bed, and that’s not her room. clothes are littered on the ground and giving where she is, it’s unlikely she took them off alone.

she groans and gets up, the room spins and she feels nauseous, reminding her of how much she drank last night. quickly she fumbles through the mess on the floor to find her clothes. they smell of sweat and alcohol. she grimaces, but she slips it over her head anyway. the damp fabric sticking to her skin. her makeup from yesterday is smudged around her eyes, her hair is a mess. she finds her phone half-buried in a pile of clothes that clearly aren’t hers.

slowly, she opens the door, she hears a shower running and takes it as a sign that the coast is clear. she’s not in the mood to face anyone in her current state, especially not her mistake from last night. tip toeing down the hallway to the door, she closes it behind her as quietly as possible. the sun is high in the sky already as she does her walk of shame, not sure where she’s going. she checks her phone, it’s dead. she’s not ready to tell anyone about what happened last night anyway.

when she looks up it hits her that she's wandered to her art studio, well her school’s art studio. her feet seemingly moving on their own, driven by routine rather than choice. she pockets her phone and pushes through the door. the studio is unusually empty, quiet. it should make her feel at peace, but it doesn’t. she hasn’t cried yet and she’s not sure she will.

she moves mechanically, out of habit, she takes out paint and brushes. she stands in front of a blank canvas and stares for a while. the emptiness inside her stretches, threatening to swallow her whole. she knows she should feel something, anger, betrayal, heartbreak even, but there’s nothing. a dull, oppressing nothing.

she hates everything she makes lately, never satisfied with the end result. she doesn’t know why. and she doesn’t know why she even bothers trying anymore. but she knows that if she doesn’t make enough pieces for the exhibition, she will fail. the knowledge looms over her head, and the more the deadline approaches, the more she feels it weighing down on her.

so, she picks up a brush. her grip is tight, too tight, her knuckles whitening as her fingers curl around the wooden handle. her strokes are harsh, slashing across the white surface, trying to force something out of herself, something she doesn’t have.

bristles bend and split under the pressure, damaged by the force of her hand, she doesn’t care. she paints because she has to, because she has nothing better to do.

after a while she stops, she’s not finished but she can’t find it in herself to keep going any longer. her eyes trace the lines on the canvas, neither satisfied nor dissatisfied with what she made, just a heavy indifference. without thinking, she wipes her hands on her pants, leaving streaks of paint behind.

she picks up a half empty paint bucket from a shelf nearby and walks out the door.

sounds of balls hitting the floor lead her to her next destination. she drags her feet to the entrance of the gym, paint bucket swinging as she walks up the steps. confusion and curiosity can be read on the faces of the people she passes by, and she stops in front of what will soon be her ex boyfriend. he’s stretching below her and before he gets the chance to speak, she dumps the entirety of the red paint in her hands over his head. gasps and laughter echo in the background but she doesn’t pay attention to them, instead focusing on (and savoring) the bewildered expression he’s now wearing.

with paint seeping down his face and pooling around him, he stays still, blinking up at her in shock, mouth agape. she doesn’t smile or laugh, her expression cold and distant. the sight of his face triggering a surge of anger, boiling under her skin. the first emotion she’s felt since she heard the news.

and she walks away.

fun facts!!

the girl sent proof to yn about the cheating (pictures, stuff like that)

they spent an hour looking for yn before kageyama told them they could stop, but without explaining why (because he was really drunk but also because he didn't want them to annoy him about him talking to hinata)

hinata and kageyama were in high school together (along with everyone else from karasuno) but ever since they graduated they grew apart a little

yn is a woman of very few words

when she came home she locked herself in her room

author's note

setting up 👀👀

play dumb! - next

taglist : open!

@alpha-mommy69 @bakugouswh0r3 @giocriedpower @itsdragonius @haechansbbg @wondipity @iaminyourfloors @na0koz @from-mae @eusaevi @jtaimeurmom @kr1nqu

if you're name is crossed out i couldn't tag you, if it's not fixed in a week i'll remove you sorry :(

[desiresiwant]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦-𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

word count: 4.5k~

warnings: strong language, eventual violence, classic Niklaus resorting to violence and drinking away his problems

a/n: this is the 3rd chapter of my au longfic based off the The Originals (what if the child was a teenager/YA throughout the show duration and not at season 5?). This chapter features Klaus’s pov, an insider to his struggles accepting his role as a father. Rebekah and Elijah makes their return. Davina as well. If there’s a warning I skipped let me know.

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𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗧𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 | 𝗡𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲’𝘀 𝗟𝗼𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗲

       𝐊𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃. From her thick curly roots, to the smeared blood currently being wiped clean from her delicate features, to the soft beatings of her heart indicating she was calmly resting. In his hand, he held an old photo of him sitting next to Vanessa. Who was clearly the girl's mother given the identical features they shared, alongside a letter explaining the situation of his existence with clear instructions to NOT come to New Orleans.

        Yet the girl—Deena, as stated in the letter—came anyway. Hard-headed.

        Klaus remembered Vanessa almost as if it was yesterday. He met the young aspiring witch at a local art exhibit held in The French Quarter where she first struck his interest, besides being the only who wore silly socks with a tight-fitting dress. She was not only well-spoken in art, but she had a way with words in which Klaus wouldn't notice the smile he wore until she told him, and she was her own person with a peculiar taste in fashion. And he liked it. In fact, he loved it. They hit it off quickly and spent every chance they had with each other, until one day she disappeared without a word. Klaus assumed it was because of him and didn't blame her since she was too good for his world and she deserved more than what he could provide for her.

        "Impossible," Were the first words Klaus said. He tossed the photo to the floor and faced his back to Deena to slip her from his memory, to Elijah who spoke not one word until Klaus spoke first.

        Elijah picked the photo from the floor and placed it on the table beside the written letter before Klaus seized a chance to rip it. "Whether it's true or not, the child needed our help and we gave that to her. Nik—"

       "You expect me to believe this child is mine from a silly photo with a woman I dallied with years ago and some loveless letter of lies?" Growled Klaus. His mouth suddenly felt dry and though he did his best to put up a front, the fear in his eyes was evident and by the end of his words, panic had entered. "I am a vampire. I cannot procreate!"

        Rebekah rinsed the cloth of blood in the warm water of dark red ready to be refilled and continued to clean the child's face and arms the best she could. The scent of her blood was alluring, preying them to feed into their cravings with just a taste, a single drop of her blood until there was no restraint to stop. But they have lived long enough to control their thirst, and the blood lust wasn't as appealing when the victim's a child and presumed to be a Mikaelson.

        "Magic made you a vampire as us all, Nik." Rebekah pointed out. "But you were born a werewolf; it courses in your blood given by your father, so it is possible. Ludicrous but possible. And we can confirm it with your blood and hers. And a witch."

        That shut Klaus up.

        "The child has already been through enough, and we can't be sure of which witch we can trust until we figure out the origin of this madness. Let's not bother her anymore and hope she wakes soon." As Elijah spoke, he watched Deena intensively under his black lashes and compared her physical similarities to his little brother. Her lips. Her ears. Even her nose with a slight readjustment, accurately portrayed Klaus but there was no way to be sure without that spell Rebekah mentioned.

        Rebekah rolled her eyes. "She will be fine. With my blood in her system, she's healing a lot faster than before. And I know a witch we can use; she was just here not too long ago banging on our doors to hear her out. And by the looks of it, she cares enough to do anything for her," Rinsing the last of Deena's blood into the bowl, Rebekah placed the rag on the dresser and carried the bowl into her arms to be refilled. She caught sight of Klaus's quietness, his eyes never leaving the child and added, "And if we hold this off any longer, we might as well shave our heads bald and pay ourselves a visit to the loony bin, and I don't rock a bald look. I would rather stab myself with the white oak before I plug in a bloody razor."

        Rebekah left for the bathroom.

        They knew exactly who Rebekah spoke of—Davina Claire, the teenage witch who wanted but nothing to do with the Mikaelsons. More specifically Klaus. After Elijah thought about the decision, he began to view Rebekah's point and agreed. However, the decision wasn't up to him.

         Klaus could feel his brother's heated stare as he looked to him for answers he didn't have nor wished to answer. He stood quietly acquainted with fear more than anyone has witnessed since Mikael's invasion back in 1919. He does want the answer, but he's too prideful to ask for help and he was too afraid of the outcome.

        Elijah then understood he would have to make the decision for them both and found Rebekah's gaze as she exited the bathroom with a clean bowl of warm water. "Let's do the spell."

━━━━━━ ━━━━━━

        𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐀 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒. Her eyes never left Klaus as she made her way down the hallway and into the spacious room, waiting for a reason to use her magic against him, until she found Deena lying unconscious on the freshly made bed in the room she had once lived in back when Marcel was around and things were a bit hectic because of her. Or at least similar. She rushed to Deena's side with a gasp.

        "She will be alright," Elijah answered her panicked thoughts as she pulled back at the blood staining her hands when she reached out for her. She sent him a soft glare and carefully took Deena's hand into hers. "Will you be able to perform the spell?"

        Klaus, remain quiet. The quietest he's ever been.

        Davina noticed her friend appeared a lot brighter in her complexion despite her blood-stained clothes. Even noticing her cuts vividly healing before her eyes which meant she was given vampire blood, and she felt guilty. Like it was her fault for not protecting her or keeping her away from Klaus as she intended to do. And by keeping the supernatural world a secret to protect her, she felt she had done more harm than good.

        "I can try but since her blood is tainted, I'll have to—"

        "The blood on her clothes is pure. Can you use that instead?" Asked Rebekah.

        Davina narrowed her gaze from Deena's stained clothes. It was easy magic she's done before and responded, "I'm only doing this for Deena and no one else, so don't call me here again. I don't wanna be mixed up in your family drama." Her gaze found Deena's. "And she shouldn't have to either."

        "You have my word," Elijah promised.

        If Klaus was in his right mind, he would've had something to say about this but for the first time in a while, he had no energy to feed into petty drama.

        Because Davina knew she could trust Elijah out of all the original siblings, she began the spell. She emptied the bowl of marbles she found on the dresser and began to remove Deena's blood into the bowl leaving her shirt spotless as if it had been recently washed. She then faced Klaus. "I need your blood." She demanded.

        One by one, they looked to Klaus who was currently in his own world. He didn't hear Davina but he soon felt their stares and allowed Elijah's voice to be heard as he called his name softly. Of course, he was worried for his brother. He's never failed to hide his worrisome in times like this. Klaus followed his gesture towards Davina waiting for something he had. What was it she asked for? My blood? Without wasting another second, he bit into his wrist and held it over the bowl as his blood began to mix in with Deena's. He pulled back his arm as he began to heal and waited in the far corner.

        Rebekah practically hovered over Davina as she continued on with the spell and Elijah stood in the center of everyone, his eyes never leaving Klaus. About five minutes later, Davina stood from her seat indicating she was finished with the spell.

        Rebekah peeled herself from the wall. "Well, is it true? Has my brother officially knocked some poor woman up against her will?"

        Klaus saw the way Davina looked at Deena, the look was enough to give him the answers they longed for, but he needed to hear it from her lips. He was desperate as they all were for the answer. She sighed finally meeting Klaus's anxious gaze. "She's a hundred percent Klaus's child." Davina announced.

        Klaus was shocked into silence.

        Not one word has been spoken as they struggled to process nature's loophole. A child, a true Mikaelson, here in flesh by the blood and DNA of Klaus, the Original Hybrid unable to create any lifeform of the living. It was difficult to create a logical answer in their heads how any of this was possible. Klaus has slept with countless women throughout the centuries, so why is it now that it's possible for his seed to create a mortal being? What made Vanessa so special out of all?

        Rebekah felt bitterness towards the situation. Though she was happy her brother has a child he could watch grow old and she has become an aunty, she knew that kind of possibility wasn't possible for her. And she desired what Klaus had—a family. From her own DNA, conceived naturally from her body, children of her own. But she was a vampire. Unlike Klaus, she could not procreate. There was no loophole for her.

        However, Elijah failed to hide his glee. After years of cleaning up after his brother's retaliation, years of watching his demons mold his anger to fear that has built a wall between his misery and his own happiness; wanting nothing but the best for him and for him to let go of his grudges against the world and start letting people in, he believed this could be a chance for Klaus to start over fresh. For not only Klaus, but for himself and for Rebekah. Maybe with the child's presence, could diminish their negative ways and bring back empathy. Something they haven't felt in a while.

        Klaus shuffled into the desk behind him, his tear-filled eyes never left the unconscious girl. He didn't look at her with hate or displeasure; it was a softer look that couldn't be explained in words. There was too much roaming around in his head and in his heart and in his actions, it was too much for him to process.

        Davina suddenly lifted the blood-filled bowl from off the bed and placed it on the smaller dresser near the bed in case Deena moved in her slumber. She clapped her hands together, gathering their destruct attention. The awkward silence was too much for her to stand in. "If that's all, I'm leaving." She sent Deena an apologetic stare before she was already out the door.

        In a flash, Davina's backside was pressed against the opened door with a hard thud. Klaus held her by the neck, seizing to scare her by his threatening presence. "What kind of trick are you playing, Davina? Do you think I can be easily fooled? Do you not fear your worthless life?" He tightened his hand as she fought out his hold. She even sank her fingers between so that she could breathe.

       "I did the spell like you asked!" Davina cried out.

        Elijah sped towards the abrupt commotion while Rebekah took a hesitant step forward, in an attempt to pull Klaus from off Davina before he did anything he'd regret, but his grip loosened from her neck as an enormous amount of pain surged his brain. He fell to his knees while gripping his head like a maniac. His groans of pain and her lifted hand allowed them to put together the pieces.

        Davina stumbled back as she caught her breath, rubbing her now red neck, eyes frantic on the other siblings in case they were going to try her. They held their ground. "Look, Deena's my friend. And as much as I wish I had sabotaged the spell and made your lives miserable, it wouldn't be fair to her and I wouldn't be able to live with the guilt. She is your daughter whether you like it or not. And if you don't believe me, fine! Find another witch who's willing to do the spell. Not that you have many to call. I'm outta here."

        The pain stopped as soon as Davina left the room. Klaus fell to the floor relieved of his torment. He will have his chance to murder that witch with his own bare hands someday. For now, he was focused on regaining his consciousness.

         Elijah was already at his side to help him up. "Niklaus—"

        "I don't need your help!" He pushed away his brother's helping hand and stood on his own. Everyone stood in silence. Klaus took one last look at Deena and fled the room within seconds.

        Elijah sighed.

        "How is this possible, Elijah?" Rebekah asked, staring at the child trying to find the similarities. There were a few, the same Elijah pointed out earlier, but it was hard to believe the child was real. "Despite him being a hybrid...is—is this natural? Is she truly his offspring? And If so, can he produce more?"

        "This is all new to me as it is for you, but spells cannot lie. And I trust Davina. She is a hundred percent Klaus's offspring. Now for the lather, I will have to look into that."

        She stopped at his side. "But—"

        "I said I will look into it," Rebekah recognized that tone and held off from asking any more questions that couldn't be easily answered. "Why don't you find the child something she can wear when she awakens? I will go find our brother and talk some sense into him."

        Without a word, Rebekah sped over to where Deena's luggage sat to look for come clean clothes.

        "And Rebekah?"

        She glanced up with a hum.

        He motioned his finger around the room. "Make sure the house is empty before she awakens. We don't need an incident to occur or a hungry vampire's blood on our hands."

        She rolled her eyes. "I'm always stuck with babysitting when I can do more than that," She whined. "The child I can do, but a house of pre-war vampires? They are already a pain in the ass."

        "Just get it done."

        She rolled her eyes and continued to search through Deena's clothes.

━━━━━━ ━━━━━━

       𝐊𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 entering the bar he sat at to drain his sorrows in. It was only a matter of time before Elijah tracked him down. He never ventured out of his usual locations and his secretive spots were a work in process. Bringing up his empire took up the majority of his time having to fight through an army of vampires loyal to his dear Marcel. Of course, he couldn't bring himself to kill the boy he raised to make an example out of him, so he let him flee.

        But none of that seemed to matter now that he found out he's a father.

        Father.

        A strange title he couldn't force himself to withhold. And instead of believing his forced reality, he decided to drink forth to a past he lived before the child was a thing. His glorious days he might call it.

        "You learn of the existence of your child and yet you sit here to drink it away?" Elijah swiftly made his way toward Klaus.

        Klaus placed down his 5th empty glass of whiskey and released a stressful sigh upon Elijah's disturbing question. "I do not wish to hear your nagging, brother unless you have come to join me?" With his head dangled over the glass-stained counters, he signal the waiter to pour him another glass.

        Elijah then unbuttoned his jacket and ordered the waiter to serve him another round of whiskey as he took his seat next to him. They sat in silence. But knowing Elijah, he couldn't hold off the conversation any longer.

        "What are you thinking, Niklaus?"

        "I think of nothing. But I do think I need a stronger drink, don't you agree?" Klaus was clearly bothered by the question and ordered stronger liquor he could drown in, which meant there was something on his mind. Elijah knew what it was, but understood his tough-hearted brother needed a little push.

        "Your expression tells me otherwise." He thanked the waiter who placed down his drink, and took a small sip before he continued. "Are you afraid you will become a bad father?"

        "And so she has gotten to you with her puny lies? Oh, the Noble Elijah." Klaus mocked his title with a scoff. "The Elijah I knew would not be easily swayed by an amenable spell performed by the very witch who has tried to kill me more than twice and more to come in the future. A spell so that she can forge a weakness to catch me off guard when I have no weaknesses to be used!"

        "And the brother I know would never be troubled with such matter if you truly believe her spell was purged." Klaus's heart thudded faster than its usual speedy pace, which Elijah heard or else he wouldn't have continued his boring speech. "No matter how you feel or what Davina's true intentions are, I do trust her and I trust she would not lie about something as great as this. Think about it, Niklaus, the girl's mother disappeared without a trace and when you asked of her to be located, the witch could not find her on any map which meant she was either cloaked or dead. A cloaking spell is only used when you want to hide from someone or you have something to hide."

        "Yes, thank you, Elijah, for explaining to me the usage of a cloaking spell. Care to explain how to have a quiet drink without your brother pestering him with bogus ideas next?"

        Elijah sighed. "I wish you would not joke for once."

        Elijah wasn't phased when Klaus slammed his glass against the counter and faced his brother with an irritated look on his face. "Well, how else should I process this kind of information, brother? Shall we light a candle in a dark room, stare each other in the eyes, drink from goats' blood, then share our darkest fears and insecurities with one another?" He offered, humor on his tongue.

        Elijah wore no smile on his face at his brother's silly offer. "I wish you would be honest with me for once and not hold up such a wall as if I am here to shame you of the very thing I want you to have—a family."

        He faced the counter with the glass already at his lips. It was beginning to taste like water. "I already have a family." He boasted.

        "And now you have a daughter, who is family."

        The glass pressed heavily on his bottom lip when he suddenly froze. His eyes grew big hearing the D-word and family placed into the same sentence, no longer able to hold up his glass or Elijah would see his hand was shaking. Turning his head to control himself or Elijah would catch the glossy glint filling his vision. Forcing his heartbeat to slow or Elijah would detect his anxiety. A new weakness. One he kept struggling to deny.

        Elijah made a good point about Vanessa because anyone who knew her knew she would never run from anything not even Klaus himself, but of course because of his nature, the thought never crossed his mind. He only assumed it was because of him, not the result of an action they both consented to.

        Klaus could still feel his brother's stare. He knew that if he didn't say something now—the absolute truth behind the wall he kept gluing up—Elijah would get it out of him one way or another. And frankly, he just needed an ear to hear him out. And since Cami was not in viewpoint, he had no choice but to open up to his brother.

        "Fine, you win. You want to know how I feel about becoming a father? I am petrified."

       He finally faced Elijah who had been waiting all day for this exact moment to unfold, only to feel guilty for pressing the matter. But it was what he wanted, and Klaus would give him just that.

        "Given the lack of fatherliness I received, I don't believe the subject is far-fetched. I mean, the girl is practically a young adult, what do I have in common with her? I have lived a self-ruled life of volition and a deep crave for violence as I rain hell upon my enemies, to suddenly become a father of a teenager in less than an hour?" He scoffed. His eyes suddenly black with anger while gulping down his drink in one sip and slammed the glass (almost breaking it) against the counter which caught a little attention. "Her mother knew of this knowledge yet she decided to keep it from me. Just wait until I track her down, she will never hear the last of me."

        Elijah was finally able to understand a piece of Klaus's mind. There is potential and he was already showing it despite his crave for harming the child's mother. "You have missed her childhood; her first word, her first steps, her early years of growth and you feel guilty for that. But now you have a chance to miss no more of her development. This can be a new beginning for us all, for you, Niklaus. Maybe this isn't a bad thing."

        "What if..." He swallowed hard. "What if I'm not ready? What if I'm not...good at this? Good enough? I have no experience of this sort and I don't always have the best interest of whomever I come across."

        Elijah is taken back at his vulnerability and placed his hand on his shoulder as a form of comfort. "No one is ever ready for fatherhood, it just happens. But you are not alone in this, you have me and Rebekah at your side. Together we shall find a way. Always and forever." He smiled warmly.

         For a moment, both brothers shared the weight of Klaus's fears. Hope sparked in his eyes and with comfort he knew his brother would always be at his side no matter the gravity of the situation and it made him feel a little less lonely. Almost happy even, until he remembered Zoeè and the silly prophecy she spoke of conjured out of ignorance, and the witches who seek to fulfill it by sacrificing Deena.

        He stood to his feet with a mission written on his face. "Enough milking my sorrows, brother, I have Camille for that. Because we," While placing down his bill, "have a long list of witches to kill."

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

If you like what you read and wish to read more of this fic, you can read HERE

[peachybeom]

Illicit ♡

Beomgyu x reader. tiny bit of angst, slight suggestive!

Your head was throbbing, the tight Versace dress you were dawning squeezed the living hell out of you. If it weren't for the third glass of champagne in your hand, you'd probably be on the verge of losing your sanity.

In the distance, on the other side of the large banquet you could see people mingling and pretending to be having the time of their lives. This was an yearly occurance for you but somehow you still haven't gotten used to it and dreaded it with all your soul and body.

The Gala you were attending tonight was one of the most prestigious and renowned event for any multi national company in the world. It was basically a hunting ground for power hungry business moguls and their families. Stocks were discussed, positions were conspired and million dollar deals were struck over some expensive wine and steak.

Being the daughter of one of the most sort out and respected man of the industry, you were practically obliged to go to these every year or else the media will have a field day making assumptions and conspiracies.

You let out a sigh and closed your eyes. Only a few more hours.

Eyes slightly droopy, you relaxed slightly in the corner until you felt a shuffle around you.

"I didn't think you would show up, princess. Fancy seeing you here." You heard a deep masculine voice speak up next to you. However you didn't need to open your eyes to figure out who it belongs to.

"How do you manage to find me everytime?" You replied with genuine curiosity, eyes still closed.

You had made sure to observe and then pick a perfect dark corner of the hall where you could hide and no one could forcibly engage you in a conversation about things like luxury cars and real estate.

"It's not that hard, just got to look for a timid yet sexy presence lurking in the corners I guess," The man replied smoothly as he took a sip of his own whiskey neat.

"I see... trying to seduce the rival's daughter. Classic." You said and opened your eyes to give him a look but froze in place as soon as you saw the man standing next to you.

Beomgyu was handsome you already knew this. The whole world knew this. but tonight as he stood facing you in his expensive tailored black suit, hair parted neatly and face carved to perfection, you realised he was a meal waiting to be devoured.

"That's the most fun part though," Beomgyu replied teasingly. Fully aware of his effect on you.

You coughed and quickly changed the topic,

"But I assume you have better things to do than charming the wallflower though?"

Unlike you, Beomgyu thrived in the corporate world. Deals, negotiations, contracts- they were his forté so naturally he was a busy man, not to mention he was announced only a few months ago, the new CEO for Choi Corporations.

The same Choi Corporation that your father had tried so hard to get rid off as they were his strongest competitor.

"That dress... You look breathtaking, didn't believe you'd come," He replied, ignoring your question.

"Oh quit the pleasantries Mr. Choi," You said in a sarcastic tone and attempted to wave off the compliment however the blush creeping under your cheeks didn't go unnoticed by Beomgyu.

"It's Gyu for you my love. And what did he blackmail you with this time anyway?" He asked, coming closer towards you.

"Threatened to get them to prepone the exhibition schedule way before due date" You admitted to him without putting up a fight. A tone of sadness evident in your voice.

It was common knowledge that you and your father did not get along. His only daughter choosing art over a well established family business did not sit well with him at all.

But in the end you won the battle-well kind of, as he still had a big influence on whichever person you worked for.

"That's more like your dad," Beomgyu chuckled but then in a serious voice he said, "You know I would never do that to you right?"

Your breath hitched at his words.

The relationship you had with him was a strange one. It had only started a few years back at a night just like this. You were bored out of your mind, finding ways to piss off your dad and Beomgyu was dazzled by your extraordinary presence. One thing led to another and since then you found youself waking up next to him a few hundred times.

"Follow me." You replied after a pregnant pause. The alcohol in your system definitely taking over your right to reason.

"That was surprisingly fast, we may have a new record here" Beomgyu joked before giving his assistant a discreet look to tell him to manage things while he was gone as he obeyed and followed your lead.

Beomgyu was known to be one of the most collected and strategic man in the business, trained to be the best in the game ever since he was announced the heir of his father's empire but when it came to you, it felt like he lost his senses just by your one single touch. Following your lead like a lost puppy.

Passing the reception you made a beeline towards the end of the hall, not bothering to stop and turn around to ask for directions. The hotel was frequently used to host these kind of parties and this was one place where you ended up during most of them.

Heels clicking on the posh marble floor, you passed gentle smiles to the few staff members as they passed by, in return all they could do was bow to you in haste, very much aware of the intimidating aura walking right behind you.

Once inside you practically pounced on him, wrapping you arms around his neck and capturing his lips inbetween yours.

"Easy there, Princess." Beomgyu chuckled, as took a few steps backwards to balance himself.

The first time you kissed him, it was out of spite. You had run into him at the bar after getting an earful from your father about tarnishing the family reputation. Beomgyu recognised you and jokingly mentioned if you wanted to plot against your father and make him more mad.

To his suprise, you agreed by pulling him to the side and kissed him, hard.

It felt so good.

But it was recently you realised you weren't getting the high by defying your father anymore, but because of the man who held you in his arms. And that's when you felt you were in deep deep trouble

Even in anonymity Beomgyu treasured you, he always made sure to make you forget whatever it was that got your mood sour in the first place.

Then it clicked you. This wasn't the reason why you had brought him in here tonight.

"We shouldn't be doing this," You murmured quietly against Beomgyu's lips, your voice and body both betraying you.

"I know." He replied, one hand dangerously close to the hem of your dress while the other gripped your side tightly.

His touch was fire and you were melting underneath it.

"Gyu...." You tried again but only breathy moans left your mouth as he started leaving wet kisses down your neck.

"Beomgyu." This time you said raising your voice and pushing him back a little.

He pulled apart from you with a confused look.

'This is wrong'

'It's too risky'

'One of us will end up getting hurt'

Thoughts were circling your mind like a hurricane, there were so many things you could have said at that moment but it was like you're mind went blank as you started at his face, looking back at you with concern but his gaze still held so much adoration in it.

"I like your eyes" Words left your mouth even before you could make sense of them.

Beomgyu laughed at your words, and then placed a hand on your cheek.

"Yeah? Well I like you." The loving look in his eyes was something you never expected from the otherwise stone faced Beomgyu.

"And I want to show you off to all those people outside." He continued, leaning in so close that your noses touched.

Your lips twisted up in a sad smile.

That was complicated, you both were aware that too much was at stake for you two to come out and publically announce any sort of relationship.

But tonight you prefered to live in oblivion.

You realised it was time to change the topic as soon as you felt tears forming in your eyes.

"Mmm, maybe one day. but till then this could be our dirty little secret," You said circling your arms around Beomgyu's neck.

"Yeah it can be dirty, scandalous and illicit," Beomgyu whispered, voice deeper with every syllable.

"Illicit?" You laughed at the dramatic word. Shifting the tone of the room.

"Hey don't ruin the moment and my fantasy!" He whined before successfully sliding down your satin dress from your body, making it pool between between your feet.

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ivy's note: reblogs and comments would really be appreciated cause i spent way too much time contemplating whether to post this or not ><

[huenation]

c’est la vie

word count: 1,763

genre: fluff !

synopsis: my thoughts on what txt would be like with an art student s/o ★ request

note: my roommate is an art student but they work on illustration and design and have art commissions for anime sooooo this is clearly not accurate :’0 sorry in advance !

soundtrack: when ur around by takayoshi

♥︎ SOOBIN

you don’t share the same major so when he learns about one of your assignments through a damn near masterpiece you’re creating he gets curious and is like “hold up… my partner’s an actual artist and they didn’t tell me?!?”

he knows you’re not very proud or loud of your work so he starts asking about your major but very gradually since he realizes he feels guilty for not having known enough before

soobin doesn’t want to make anything very sudden when it comes to showing u support and praise but u bet he’s always there when it comes to having ur art up at exhibits or at conventions to sell ur stuff, but gradually he brings you bouquets of flowers that get bigger and bigger and at some point u use up the flowers he gives u to make a display to show him the love he gives you but in a visual that makes him straight up BAWL but anyway

you always end ur explanations with “yeah but it’s nothing exciting” even to this day when he catches you in the middle of doing an assignment or anything on your ipad or on a canvas or in your sketch book

he never pries but he admires you so so so much he feels like he could explode 

when the conversation or time of day doesn’t revolve around school or work soobin never fails to quietly but tenderly let you know that while you may doubt your own work for its value he adores every single thing your mind and hands create and that your passion is so beautiful and he loves you

walks away casually or dozes off on your shoulder every single time like he didn’t drop such a confession

he loves water colors and painting and asks if you could teach him any skills which you do

your passion and skills have brought the two of you closer even if you’re from different worlds (majors) and soobin feels so lucky to have you in his life

♥︎ YEONJUN

makes a big deal about you and your passion and skills (but in his own “tamed” way since he used to be even more louder about his praise for you but he had to tone it down since you just get so shy) 

yeonjun makes it a point to kiss your hands and fingers, stretching them while your fingers are intertwined, he’ll massage them so casually while you’re having a conversation with each other or with the others

you’ve only mentioned your hands being sore ONCE but it seems he’s never forgotten

acts like you’re pregnant with the way he doesn’t let you use your fingers or hands too much when he’s around

“they’re too valuable, they should only be used for your masterpieces, can’t you see the infinite value you have?!” 

he gives you a kiss on the cheek and reminds you you’re doing a great job as much as he can because you’re your worst critic

if you’re feeling overwhelmed by the grading or how it looks like to you, he knows the tell tale signs and knows words won’t fix everything so he holds you very tight, rubbing ur tired shoulders, letting u cry to him, and even if it won’t do anything he’ll still try his best to whisper sweet reassurances and encouragements and tells u what he sees and his voice alone soothes u :( 

tells you that he wants to get a tattoo of one of your sketches or doodles and you’re like NO WTF and he doesn’t see why he wouldn’t or shouldn’t and ur like pls seriously ur going to regret it and hes like ugh fine and kisses you and just when you think he forgets about it…

one day you find one of your silly little doodles on his wrist and a smirk on his face…… 

♥︎ BEOMGYU

supports you like crazy, is so proud of you, he thinks so highly of your own major like you brought meaning to it

in his head he’s always like “god i wonder what my y/n must be up to, such a hard worker” in his internal monologues 

talks about you all the time when you’re not around, or to his friends, like everything reminds him of youuuuuu

you can see it in his eyes that he adores you and your passion and all the art you produce

but when he’s with you… you know half the time you’re going to get teased, every now and then joking about he has to turn in his simple coding and you have to turn in something that levels monet or renoir or vermeer 

or he’ll flip the roles and start joking about how you have to turn in a van gogh painting before a night out and he just finds it so funny (he knows what you do and that his jokes are so inaccurate but you let him have his fun)

“can you paint my face and make it look like i got in a bad fight but make it look like i won the fight”

he tells you he wants you to draw him or paint him and you’re shy about it because you’re worried you’ll make him look bad but he tells you he wishes to see how you see him and it could never be anything but beautiful 

beomgyu screams with joy and shows it the painting off to literally EVERYONE even to his family and if it makes you shy he REVELS IN IT — he enjoys making u flustered but besides all the pomp and frills, he kisses ur hands and quietly tells u how he feels about you and he’s got some strong feelings….

despite all the jokes, beomgyu always wants to show you his full support and love he feels for you because of how you show him your own

♥︎ TAEHYUN

“within reason” he is very very very proud of you and every single thing you do and create and when he says within reason he means he supports you a very normal amount (ironically bc he could literally talk about you and everything you do for DAYS straight)

you work tirelessly out of your ipad making art not only for your classes but for your commissions and art that you sell and of course taehyun is ALL over it

he appoints himself as ur manager, looking for platforms to place ur art on so more people can see it

he even wants to buy a cricut to put ur art on clothes and as stickers etc but one thing at a time, tyun, one thing at a time… 

he tried to even call local museums and universities that hold exhibits of art but ur like “babe pls :(“ and he lets up, deep apology with “i just want everyone to see u the way i see u and ur art” <3……

taehyun likes to watch you paint or draw and if you get shy from being watched, he’ll apologize for being so blatant about it and go back to his own readings and homework only to steal glances from afar (he is head over heels for you)

he brings his books and laptop to ur studio (after making sure he knows that u want him there with u) — brings u ur favorite food and drinks and dessert every time he comes over bc he knows u deserve it

taehyun learns ur body language so he knows when ur getting frustrated or when ur about to finish and he always opens his arms bc thats what you search for once u lift ur tired eyes from ur canvas or iPad

he plays with ur fingers and kisses ur head and tells you you’re doing so well and he apologizes bc his opinion may not be important since he isn’t ur professor or one of the greats but u reassure him that his opinion is just as important and that ur eternally grateful to have him in ur life and

he gets teary eyed and kisses you and tells you the same — he’ll never stop supporting you

♥︎ KAI

like soob, hyuka loves animation 

kai is a very soft person :( so when he notices you get stressed about a certain brush or detail or anything, he wants to fix it for you

he likes to take your mind off things by incorporating what you love to do (painting) with a much more relaxed environment 

that can go with distraction of snacks and sour candies and cuddles and cartoons or when you paint his face and he paints yours and its so unserious too

one time he brought one of his shirts to ur studio and ur like: ? and he shyly explains that he wants u to wear it to paint aka get it messy so he can always have a piece of u in this way.,f.,.emgkmrmbkmbm

he’ll let you play with his switch that’s covered with stickers of your art btw

you and kai will take turns using the coloring book for stress relief that’s on your ipad, whenever you do it, kai has his head perched on your shoulder and when you watch him do it, your cheek is on his bicep and sometimes he’ll choose to do a long one so you can nap off the stress

gives u a quick kiss but sometimes he presses too hard and it jolts u up and knocks u awake which startles him and his cheekies get red 

“what are we drawing today” he asks with his head on ur shoulder and you turn to give him a kissie 

“you, actually” you tease just to get a rise out of him but in actuality, you decide to abandon your project and draw him and he’s very hesitant about it but he still lets u, he’s just red

bc of his shyness, you vouch for a rough doodle with exaggerated hearts and cartoonish vibes that make him exhale when he sees it — he can’t help but smile very hard and there’s tears in his eyes 

he just hugs you when you give it to him and you will find that picture hung up in his room next time u go in there :’)

[male-reader-haven]

~That Horrible,, Wonderful Feeling~

Author note:

Chapter 2 wholesomeness ahead!! Idk if any of you caught it in my last upload before I edited it but I left my name in place of one of the Y/N placeholders... Oops. Needless to say I write these with myself in mind first lmao. Anyways, enjoy a relaxing date with Namjoon!!!

Chapter 2: New is Scary

Namjoon's POV as Y/N takes him to a museum. They share tons of moments, learn some more, and get closer to each other. A bit closer than intended... While his mind should be focused on the artwork and history on display, Namjoon can't help but find himself distracted by Y/N's adorable charm. What's happening to him?

ALSO INCLUDING: Y/N's perspective as his best friend helps him through gay panic

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x male idol Y/N (who has the same birthday as Jimin)

TW: Internalized homophobia, awkward moments, guilt, 18+

Word count: 3,648

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After another 15 minutes Y/N and Namjoon arrive at the museum and park. They had called ahead to let the museum know they were coming so they could bring their own security, but when they arrived they realized they wouldn't need it since the museum is basically empty, save for an elderly couple walking in together from off the bus. Y/N parks the car and looks at Namjoon excitedly.

“We got the place to ourselves! Let's go!” He hops out of the car, Namjoon smiles and puts up his black mask and gets out of the passenger side. Y/N slips up his own mask and locks the car with a short “beep.” He goes over to Namjoon and grabs his hand.

“C’mon, let's go!” Namjoon smiles under his mask as Y/N practically drags him into the museum.

They walk in the building together and check in at the front desk. The lady is very polite and shows them a small sign.

“If you scan this QR code with your phone it sends you to the audio guide for our exhibits so you can listen along.”

“That’s new.” Namjoon remarks. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his airpods and phone. He frowns slightly and turns to Y/N. “I usually bring these to listen to music as I look, but I also want to listen to the guide.”

“Here, I have an idea!” Y/N reaches into his own pocket and pulls out his own airpods. “Here, you play your music with your airpods and I will play the audio guide and we can each share one earbud.” He scans the sign and holds out an earbud in his hand towards Namjoon. 

“Perfect!” Namjoon smiles and trades earbuds with Y/N. They walk away from admission and put their earbuds in. 

“Now it’s my turn to judge your music taste!” Y/N laughs. Namjoon smiles, somewhat nervously. After a second too long of scrolling through his playlists Namjoon finally decides to play “Gymnopedie No. 1,” looking up to see if Y/N approves. Y/N smiles.

“Perfect.” He then turns to his phone and taps the play icon for the audio guide, only to make both of them jump with a blast of sound.

“Ah! Sorry, volume.” After he frantically lowers the volume to a good level, they both chuckle.

“Listen to loud music, huh?” Namjoon laughs. 

“On occasion…” Y/N looks away, slightly shy from embarrassment. They begin walking and observing pieces in the national designated culture assets collection. The audio guide’s soft voice and the lull of the music provide a great combination of background noise as they admire the art. Namjoon notices that Y/N tends to walk and sway along with the music subconsciously, his head rocking back and forth gently as he bends down to read captions. He walks gracefully, nearly dancing as he makes his way to the next piece. Namjoon has a tight feeling in his stomach. They stop to admire “Sin-gubeop cheonmundo,” an old astronomical chart. Namjoon looks at Y/N, who is staring wide-eyed at the constellations and markings. His lips are slightly parted as his eyes graze over the parchment, slightly sparkling. Namjoon is enamored by Y/N’s thoughtful expressions, and the soothing music in the back of his mind doesn’t help how fluttery he feels looking at him. 

He is beautiful.

Y/N turns and meets Namjoon’s eyes for a split second and Namjoon snaps his head back to the chart as if nothing happened. Out of the corner of his eye Namjoon sees Y/N turn his head also. They move on in comfortable silence and spend an hour looking at more historical pieces. Namjoon stays at the rear, watching as Y/N explores in adorable wonder. His mind is drifting away from the audio guide and he gets lost in watching him move from piece to piece. Y/N himself looks like he should be a work of art, put behind protective glass to shield him from the cruel outside world. He dances around the empty hallways and by dimly lit artworks. As far as Namjoon is concerned, the whole museum was built just for him. Y/N turns around and meets Namjoon’s gaze. Namjoon doesn’t look away this time, enamored by Y/N’s warm smile.

“Hungry?” Y/N asks after a moment. As if on cue, Namjoon’s stomach makes a gurgling sound.

“Guess so.” They laugh and head to the museum cafe. 

Y/N orders a hot chai tea latte with oat milk and a rice cake and Namjoon orders an iced americano with egg bread. They sit down on bar stools next to the glass wall that shows the outside garden. 

“I need to go to museums more often, I really love it here!” Y/N remarks, taking a sip of his tea. “It’s so peaceful compared to the rest of the city.”

“Yeah, whenever I have even just 30 minutes of free time from working I try to go to museums. They calm me down and help me clear my mind. It’s part of why I love art so much.” He looks at Y/N. “What do you like about art?”

“Wow, loaded question.” Y/N laughs. “Well, I like thinking about what made the artist create their pieces. What time period it was, what was going on at the time, how they felt, what prompted them to create, etcetera. I like the personality behind it.” He looks out the window, resting his head in his hand. “It’s like taking a glimpse into a stranger’s mind and seeing what it’s like. It's intimate.” Namjoon nods. He takes note of how the setting sun’s golden glow shines on Y/N’s hair, making it a warm color. There’s that funny feeling in his chest again.

This is new…  Since when do I notice things like that about him?...

Namjoon fidgets in his seat and looks down at his coffee. 

“I missed hanging out with you, Joon. It’s been forever since you've been working so hard for the last few months. It’s like we never see you.” Namjoon feels a twinge of guilt after hearing him say that. 

“I’m sorry, I get stuck up in my head sometimes. Yoongi too. When we start the process, it's hard to stop.” He sips his coffee. “I need to remember to take more breaks before I burn out.”

“Seriously. You know if you ever need to wind down or want to go to a museum, I'd be happy to come with. We don’t even really have to talk if it takes too much energy.” He crosses his arms. “Plus, somebody’s gotta make sure you don’t break down completely.”

Namjoon chuckles.

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.” 

After some time chatting at the cafe, Namjoon and Y/N decide to head back home and chill with takeout and movies until the rest of the band gets back. Y/N orders chinese (sesame chicken, orange chicken, wontons and crab rangoons) while Namjoon flips through Netflix.

“Any recommendations?” Namjoon says over his shoulder.

“Shhh, on the phone, one sec.” Y/N responds. Namjoon just nods and continues flipping, making note of all 8 member’s profile images on Netflix. Taehyung has a strange cartoon slug, Jimin is Queen Elizabeth from “The Crown,” Jungkook is the chicken from “Lost in Space,” Yoongi is a leopard from some nature documentary, J-hope is a default orange smiley icon, Jin is Aggretsuko, Y/N is a penguin and Namjoon’s is a koala. He wonders to himself if everyone chose their own or if somebody assigned all their icons. He scrolls down his account and realizes there is so much that he hasn’t seen, let alone heard of. Y/N hangs up his phone and joins Namjoon on the sofa.

“Should be around 30 minutes.” He gets comfortable and grabs a large blanket to settle under. He offers Namjoon the blanket as well, and he accepts, getting comfortable.

“What do you want to watch?” He asks Y/N. He pauses a second. “What genres do you like?”

“Ooh, I love horror and comedy. I’m always down for a classic supernatural horror or a rom com. OH, but I have a huge soft spot for action movies with huge robots or monsters.” Y/N turns to Namjoon. “What about you?” 

“I like dramas and science fiction. That's interesting, I never knew you were a horror fan. Wouldn’t quite peg you for someone who likes that stuff.” He tilts his head. Y/N laughs.

“Yeah? Well surprise, this pretty boy listens to heavy metal and screamo, likes horror, and listens to true crime podcasts.” He winks. “I’m not as innocent as I look, you know.” 

The two of them end up finding a science fiction/horror movie about astronauts going into space with a dangerous alien on board. About 20 minutes into the movie, Namjoon notices how quiet it has gotten and looks over to find Y/N falling asleep. 

Geez, must still be feeling the effects of yesterday.  

He smiles as he watches him slowly nod his head, repeatedly catching himself just to nod off again. He leans forward and gently grabs Y/N’s shoulders, helping him lean back into the sofa rather than leaning forward and nearly falling off. Y/N lets him and ends up leaning back on Namjoon’s shoulder, making himself comfortable. Namjoon can feel his breaths as Y/N basically falls into his lap asleep. Namjoon is startled but doesn't want to move him, so he just puts his left arm around him and tries to focus on the movie. He can’t stop his eyes from being drawn to Y/N’s head in his lap, however, and he finds himself subconsciously bringing his right hand to Y/N’s head and stroking his hair. The funny feeling is in his chest again.

Suddenly, the movie has a jumpscare, and Y/N jolts up from his slumber, looking at the screen. He is still on his side, but now has his arms on Namjoon’s lap and is turned over. He stays like this for a moment before realizing that he is indeed on Namjoon’s lap. He turns to Namjoon and quickly sits up. 

“Ah, sorry haha. I can’t believe I fell asleep.” Namjoon swears he can see him blushing.

“No worries. You looked adorable. Uh, comfortable! You looked comfortable.” Namjoon catches himself, hoping Y/N won’t think anything of it. Y/N just smiles. They sit in silence, just looking at each other. Namjoon doesn’t know if it is him or Y/N or both of them, but they seem to be a lot closer now than their faces were five minutes ago. They draw closer to each other in what feels like slow motion. Heat rises up in Namjoon’s chest.

They are interrupted by the ring of the doorbell. They both blink, seemingly snapping out of whatever trance they were just in.

“I uh, I'll go get that.” Y/N hurriedly stands up to get the door. 

What was just about to happen?? Namjoon’s thoughts raced. His stomach felt like butterflies had invaded and his head was a balloon. Did he and Y/N just, almost kiss? Did he want them to kiss? He shook his head, trying to clear his head as Y/N walks over with a brown paper bag. 

“Food has arrived! Almost 20 minutes late, that is.” He sighs and places the food on the table. “We might finish the movie before we finish our food.” He laughs. They silently agree to act like the situation previously never happened and dig into the food. The night goes on and they start another movie, and eventually the other boys arrive and everyone re-unites to talk about their days.

“Yoongi almost fell in the water. He fell asleep with the pole and got a huge bite, it almost pulled him in!” Jin laughs, retelling the scene.

“It ended up taking my bait.” Yoongi smiles. They obviously had fun.

“Taehyung and Jungkook had an argument and almost got us all lost hiking.” Jimin tattles on the two youngest members.

“I don’t want to start the argument all over again, but I’m just saying, I knew where I was going!” Jungkook whined.

“Yeah, that’s why you had to keep asking where we were on the map.” Taehyung gives him a playful punch on the shoulder.

“We got out safely though. We saw a lot of deer and wildlife.” Hoseok chimes in. 

“We had a good time too! The museum was practically empty, so we had the whole place to ourselves.” Y/N explains their time at the museum. “It was really great!”

“Hey, let’s all do something tomorrow. It’s been forever since all 8 of us hung out.” Hoseok chimes in. “We could go to a club and get drinks.” 

“I hope you’re thinking about the evening then, not the day.” Yoongi laughs. “Let’s not be day drinkers and end up smashed again.”

“We could all go to karaoke and dinner, then go to the club. That way we have food in our stomachs first.” Taehyung suggests.

“Sure. I’m always down to see rapper Jin show us up.” Namjoon laughs, referencing the last time they did group karaoke. 

“Better watch out, i’ll be in the rapline soon enough!” Jin widens his eyes at Namjoon. They all laugh.

“Cool, we will meet at the arcade around 4 then?” Y/N asks. The other 7 members all agree. 

Namjoon yawns. 

“I’m gonna turn in guys, still tired from yesterday.” He glances at Y/N. “You were practically sleeping through the movie, so I suggest you go to bed too.” He laughs, then suddenly remembers the strange moment that happened earlier between him and Y/N. He thinks he remembers too because he sees him turn away.

“Haha, yeah, I'm pretty tired too. I had fun today, and I’m glad we all have this weekend off to spend together. Get some rest y'all.” 

“Get out of here with your english slang.” Jungkook jokes with Y/N and stands up too. He gets up and makes his way to his room. The other members each respectively say their goodnights and head to their own rooms as well.

Namjoon lies in bed for a while, unable to sleep. The day keeps on replaying in his head like clips from a movie. Seeing Y/N walk around the museum and how pretty he was, him staring out the window at the cafe and his face so close to Namjoon’s on the couch. Namjoon brings his hands to his face. 

What is happening to me?

Never before has he had these feelings for another man, let alone someone he has known for most of his life already.

Is it really okay to think about him like that? 

He shakes his head, catching himself. It’s not like he was doing anything wrong. To be fair, if anyone looked at Y/N and tried to say he wasn’t a cute boy, they'd be lying. It’s only natural. Plus, it’s not like anything actually happened between them today. Namjoon feels a twinge of guilt.

Why do I feel guilty for having these feelings? 

Namjoon rolls over, head full of thoughts. Eventually, he drifts off to sleep, thinking of rays of sunshine reflecting off silky hair and sparkling eyes.

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

(Meanwhile, in Y/N's room...)

Y/N is lying down on his carpet floor when Jimin walks into his room and sits next to him.

“So, what’s up with you?” He pokes Y/N in the side. “You’re ‘tired,’ huh?”

Y/N frowns, not looking at Jimin yet. 

“Yes. I’m allowed to be tired.” He rolls over and pokes Jimin back. “Are you here to lecture me about something?”

Jimin sighs.

“Look, Y/N, we basically share one brain cell. I can tell when something is up with you. You always help me when I come to you. Now spill.”

Y/N groans and sits up reluctantly.

“Is Namjoon acting differently lately?” He poses the question that has been on his mind all day. “When we were hanging out he seemed off, lost in thought or something. I’m worried about what happened during that interview.”

Jimin tsks at Y/N.

“Of course, you aren’t worried about yourself, but someone else. Look, if you are that concerned, maybe you should go ask him. I’m sure he would appreciate it.” He pats Y/N’s knees. “He did seem off. I gotta admit, I’m a bit concerned too. I think it’s best you ask though, you’re good at these things.” Y/N nods, looking at the ground. Jimin tilts his head. “Aaaand you still have shit on your mind. What else is up?”

Y/N smiles. 

“You just can’t cut me a break, huh?”

“Absolutely not. Come on, lay it on me. I’m a secure secret keeper, I swear by our twinship.”

“More like we just happen to have the same birthday and year, not exactly twins.” Y/N laughs. “Plus, I'm older by like, 2 hours.”

“Ah, you're stalling! Hurry up and tell me what's wrong before I use twin telepathy on you.” They both laugh.

“I don’t know. It’s just…” Y/N looks at the wall for a moment, searching for the right words. “Hanging out with Namjoon today felt so different. I mean, we are around each other every day. We all are. But something changed.”

“Could it be you are finally realizing your super mega gay crush on him?” Jimin smirks.

“Whaaaaaaaat?” Y/N’s head snaps to meet Jimin’s with a taken aback look.

“Oh my fucking god Y/N, you have been crushing on him since we debuted, you CANNOT be this stupid.” He puts his hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “You wrote about him in all your letters home for crying out loud.”

Y/N blushes and stutters. 

“W-well, I wrote about all of you-��

“Yeah, but not like you wrote about Namjoon. And how about all the times you would fall after he did in practice so he didn’t feel bad? All the times you’d fix things right after he broke them so people don’t find out? Don’t act like you don’t!” Jimin is satisfied when Y/N cups his hands to his face.

“Oh god, was it always that obvious?” He says through his hands. 

“Not to Namjoon. The man has an IQ of 148 but is somehow thick as a brick.” He smiles at Y/N. “Honestly, I think he may not be as straight as you think he is.”

Y/N looks up, betraying his curious face.

“Huh? What makes you say that?”

“Well if you also weren’t so absolutely in your own head, you would notice how you make him smile so much. He thinks you are adorable.” Jimin teases Y/N, who blushes and hides into his hands again.

“You don’t know that, you are just making assumptions to tease me.”

“Somewhat, but I also believe that man is not straight.”

“Come ON, he is such a simp for Megan The Stallion.”

“Oh, so you’re promoting bi erasure now?” Jimin lightly punches Y/N in the side. “Plus, he basically worships Anderson Paak. And you have to admit, he treats you a bit differently. There could be something there, you never know.” 

“How would that even work? Two members of BTS getting together, the fans would lose their shit. Plus, I don’t think it's even allowed.”

“Who says? The company is literally ours. Plus, you wouldn't have to be public about it. Fans will make assumptions anyways. You yourself have seen the ao3 pages and wattpad fanfictions. At this point there is a fanfic for each and every one of us together.” He shudders as if recalling a memory. “I will never forget some of those… I should have left my curiosity to rot.”

Y/N laughs. 

“Holy fucking shit do they love putting you and JK in the omegaverse.”

“I still can’t believe Tae got us to read those. I have never been the same man since.” He laughs and then regains his train of thought. “Anyways my point is, don’t worry so much. Things will work out. Just keep being yourself and if something happens, great! If not, oh well. We will survive.” He opens his arms and beckons Y/N to hug him.

“Thanks Jimin. You always know how to help me organize my brain.”

“I know, I know, you can praise me later.” They hug for a second. “No matter what, we will always be a family. All eight of us.”

“I know. I’m so grateful.” 

“Even if one of us is fucking the leader.”

“Ugh, you perv!!” Y/N punches Jimin.

“Ouchh, don't take out your frustration on me, save that for Joon! Ack-” He is cut off when Y/N punches him again.

“And now you have overstayed your welcome. I don’t approve of perverts in my room, get out before I pepper spray you!” Y/N stands up and drags Jimin to his feet, pushing him to the door.

“Haha okay okay, i'll leave. You know you love me.” Jimin peeks his head from behind the door, trying to act cute.

“Less and less by the second. Now goodnight.” Y/N closes the door slowly, forcing Jimin to move his head.

“G’night hyung!!” He is heard jogging to his own room. 

“Night Jimin.” Y/N sighs and falls on his bed. He stares at the ceiling, thinking about the day and what to do next.

Nothing has changed, so I shouldn’t change. Just keep doing your thing.

Y/N reassures himself. He then thinks of Namjoon.

I should check on him tomorrow. I’ll keep an eye on him while we hang out, just to make sure he is all right.

He sighs and turns to his side. Eventually, he drifts to sleep.

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

Stay tuned, Jae loves you <3

[swordloss]

I went to the Visions of Magic event in brussels today!

If you plan on going, don't expect much. While it was really awesome, it was only 30 minutes long. Me and my mom had to walk for 35 minutes to and from for half an hour of an art exhibit that was barely interactive and super short. The gift shop was also extreemly overpriced in my opinion. The shirts were about 30 euros and were litteraly SHEIN quality. I did get the tote bag in the picture, which was pretty expensive but it's good quality. It was 20 euros. So, would I recomment it? If you live close to it, yeah. I would. While it's short it was also pretty fun and the "rooms" were really beautiful! But if you have to walk more than half an hour in a busy city, I wouldn't recomment. Especially if you make the stupid choice to wear very uncomfortable and tight shoes there. But what idiot would do that? (Me. I'm the idiot that did that. I wore converse. My feet hurt so bad I cried.)

Anyway, all the pictures in the collage are made by me :)

[kaitropoli]

The Rhinoceros

By Pietro Longhi

Oil Painting, 1751.

Ca' Rezzonico.

THERE are two slightly different versions of this painting, but for now (and because this will be quick for me), I will detail certain things that stand out to me in this piece.

=== BEFORE READING INFO BELOW: (POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS: ANIMAL ABUSE; POSSIBLE CUCKOLDRY) === TLDR TOPICS (With Skip Marks): Clara, a live exhibited rhinoceros...paragraphs 1-5; Possible cuckold messaging in this painting (going with the story of Clara)...paragraph 5; The Venice Carnival (masks)...paragraphs 6-7. ===

THE Rhinoceros--or known by two different names: (1) Clara the Rhinoceros; (2) Exhibition of a Rhinoceros at Venice--has the very obvious subject of Clara, a rhinoceros who was displayed in Venice during Carnival. Clara had been on tour throughout Europe, now finally making her debut in wonderful Serenissima, the floating city where women and men walk with their identities covered during the time of enlightenment, reformation, and new political thought while the Holy Roman Empire shines down their reign, and the Papal States are near their last century of control.

CLARA has been the subject of a few art pieces throughout her touring days on Earth. She once came from India and spent her last days in Lambeth, England (imagine dying in Britain💀), witnessing history before her very eyes; though, she wouldn't know it, especially being the one making history as one of the first living rhinos to be exhibited in modern Europe since 1515 (and before 1515, it was the og Roman Empire... centuries before 1515!). She was an orphan who was adopted by a dude in Bengal by the name of Jan Albert Sichterman, who worked for the Dutch East India Company, and then, of course, he sold her to a man who would be a permanent father figure for the rest of her life, cpt. Douwe Mout van der Meer (wild ahh name, but he's Dutch, so what do you expect?). I guess it'd be wrong to call him a father figure, considering he also technically "sold" her, as in what you'd do back then if your child had a deformity and you're poor (market crash, dustbowl, Great Depression things) and the freak show was in town, but when you have daddy issues, being made an attraction is still love (and a good kind of attraction) in your eyes. I mean, I'd probably lose all respect for myself if that means I can travel (I'M KIDDING... probably. The opportunity hasn't come knocking at my door just yet).

THERE'S much history to our girl, Clara, like how she had her own personal 8HP-drawn wooden carriage (treated like the damn queen she is), or how she moisturized with fish oil (we don't use Drunk Elephant around these parts👹). They kept her in better, more secure care than Dürer's Rhino (1515, remember? Anyway, he drowned! They weren't gonna do that to our Clara-baby) when traveling to Italy... but this is where something did happen to her..................

UPON arrival in Rome, Clara was discovered to have lost her horn (evidently seen in the artwork above). It is debated how she lost it: either she rubbed it off (which apparently is a common trait among rhinoceroses who are kept in tight confinement), or somebody cut it off (Wikipedia claims for safety reasons, but does not provide a footnote, so keep a close eye on that). ** SIDE NOTE: I tagged this part specifically as animal abuse; though poaching is a serious topic, in a case like this, it can be compared to the *controversial* practice in which rhino workers dehorn to ensure nobody attempts to poach the animal (a way of justifying this is that the horns are made of keratin, which, if you don't know, is the same as our fingernails; rhinos will regrow their horns in ≤ two years; rhino horns are sought out for a good chunk of money due to them being used in medicines, typically that found in Asian cultures, so people will hunt these animals with tranquilizers (not the issue seen in Philly right now, but if you have time, check that out) and leave them to bleed to death due to negligently cutting the horn off).

AS I had briefly mentioned, horns can grow back, so try not to worry too much about our girl. After all, she lived quite longer than expected, so it couldn't be all that bad. Anyway, back to when she was hornless and staying in Venice during the time of Carnival, Italian painter Pietro Longhi, who was notorious for his Venetian everyday life paintings, decided it'd be nice to visit Clara and paint her. In this scene, we see a man in the crowd holding up a horn, which leads many to believe that this is a message. You know how you do those bunny ears when somebody's taking a photo--children to their grandmothers, sisters to their brothers, and so on and so forth? Well, believe it or not, the bunny ears were the original symbol for cuckoldry, besides the obvious metal hand (sad day for the metalheads... or maybe good day if you're a cuck, but that wouldn't make sense because you gotta have taste to be into metal). Horns are used to represent cuckolds because it uses the similarity of stags' mating rituals, compared to how it got the name due to cuckoo birds leaving their eggs in others' nests (kind of like those types of faeries that stole children and left their own to mimic... which this led to an ACTUAL murder... but that's not up for discussion today, sorry). Anyway, because this dude is holding a horn, which appears to seem like it belonged to Clara, and the unattended ladies in the back (we will discuss them in a hot minute), this man may as well be a cuckold, or, unlikely (because I think it's funnier and more apparent), signing somebody else off as one.

FOR the other patrons in the crowd, as I have mentioned a billion times already, this was Carnival time (Fat Thursday to Fat Tuesday, celebrating before Ash Wednesday and Lent; U.S. citizens know Mardi Gras, which is technically the last day of Carnival... if that's an easier explanation, I'm glad to help, because I don't feel like getting into the specifics of it all). Tradition is to wear masks (although this was the main cause for the abrupt ending of Carnival until it was revived in the 1970s), which was originally done to hide identities, which made it easier for social classes to clash. One of these ladies is wearing a mask (can you guess which one?), and it holds a provocative nature.

MORETTA, or also known as servetta muta, is a strapless mask that is usually crafted with black velvet. The wearer would bite down on a bead which keeps the mask in place, however disables them from speaking. Seems impractical, right? Well, women died for it as much as the men they were attracting did. The silence, and the contract of black to their skin, making the mask pop out, just like their breasts when wearing décolleté alla veneziana fashion (clothes which reveal the body; and don't get me started with the shear fabric and what they did to make their nipples more apparent). To take away from the face will bring more attention to other areas, which was the achieved goal. To bring silence is to be the mysterious dark beauty that people still talk about being today! Don't deny that this is feminism, because it is in the end... giving women the choice to keep playing a mysterious game where their intentions are anonymous, or to burrow in the advances of the potential suitor. Whichever they chose, it is ultimately up to the man if he wants to play a round of blind dating/hookup.

LINKS TO SOURCES:

| Wikipedia - Carnival of Venice

| Wikipedia - Clara (Rhinoceros)

| National Gallery - NG1101

| Historians of Netherlandish Art - Exhibition: Clara the Rhinoceros

| Mental Floss - Clara

| Science - Cutting Off Rhino Horns

| Save the Rhino - Poaching

| Italy Mask - History of the Venice Carnival

| Ca' Macana - The Moretta or Muta

YAPPING all done completely by me (@kaitropoli)

[poems-of-the-anentomologist]

I kinda wanna try getting revision work on this one poem I’ve written, obviously you don’t have to but anyways I’d like to share with the class (the end feels iffy to me)

Incomplete Fiber Project

I tug at ends of yarn

watching you unravel in

all your secret thoughts and doubts and passion

of every word you wrote me – pilling into clumps

sat atop you to make a gorgeous textured thread

i cannot wait to detangle – watch as the

tight outer parts unfurl to reveal a saggy tired center

of cold noodles

that hold no distinct shape

as it slithers and writhes and I consume it and you gag

drooping and whining,

scraping against the metal of my hook – cold from disuse

I work on this new project and let you nestle up inside me and inside

your brand new form.

the friction of my hook snags on your frayed edges

as I work, warming up my heart chambers

sparsely decorated – you notice as you wander around inside me

in this incomplete form i've now created for you

yarn ends trailing behind

still tangled and clumpy but at least you can walk around in

this exhibit I designed – hopefully

It distracts and entertains as you

locate my tapestry and

with your unfinished claws and loose jaw

rip apart my delicately placed seams.

you're not sure how to properly unravel me

in the same way I unraveled you

but you take the shreds of the form I wove inside myself

and construct yourself a nest upon which you can

rest inside,

your lumpy shape reveling in the warmth of my remains.

maybe when i fix the mess you made of me

I'll be able to finish you and sew all your parts together

to make you whole

and maybe then you will be free of me

crawl back up my esophagus and catch at my heart — escape me

so that I can repair my chambers and clean up

the yarn fuzz you shed and left behind.

you’re a work of art

in all your unpredictability and pain

my incomplete fiber project

I wouldn't really say I am qualified to give revision advice :(

I do like it though!

[obito76]

Shadows of the Heart

Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Arella Roth.

Part 1 of Azarath and Gotham

She always had a soft spot for gala’s, despite them being filled with pretty, rich, ignorant people, like talking to a waiter filled with ego in a cheap three star restaurant. Complete and utter boredom, the only thing entertaining was the champagne, or the genuine people trying to have fun with a smile without causing too much of a scene. Still she walked up the stairs in a tight white dress, off the shoulder and velvet going down to her feet. Silver jewelry with diamonds hanging from the earrings complimented her indigo eyes and light makeup, red lipstick blending with the dress. The jewelry by far was one of the good choices she made, simple and elegant at best like most but no one would ever notice, they never seemed to anyways.

“May I have your name ma’am?” The lady with a welcoming smile and a clipboard in her hand asked.

“Mrs. Roth.” Giving the same smile she saw on her face quirk, keeping her face calm and collected as she watched the woman scramble to find her name.

“Of course, Enjoy the evening ma’am.”

Arella knew she would never find someone with the Roth last name on her clipboard, perhaps it was the call she made, or something else but it sure made her say sorry a lot.

Taking a glass of champagne she turned to see the familiar and unfamiliar faces snickering to one another, their partners by their side with an annoyed look. Young audience, arms around one another and looking already buzzed while others sat on the sidelines talking. She walked past, not offering much of a hello but a polite smile on her face, they didn’t see her anyways. Instead she sat in the back, trying to find the reason, why she came here.

Before it was for him, or just to feel alive. That was when she was a kid, now she made enough to never step foot onto Gotham's streets again, she should be turning to home, not an old school apartment she used to live in when she was still young, a fool who ran away from her home, in search of something she shouldn't have. Now though, parties and galas still were all too boring but still held a soft spot within her. Maybe it was overtime suits or the midnight that grew too arousing for her body to get used to the same old things, or maybe she just wanted feel alive again.

“I see you got my invitation, Mrs. Roth” A deep voice made the hair on her neck stand up.

Turning around she saw him, standing tall and broad in an all black suit with his hair gelled as usual, holding a drink between his two fingers. “Yes, It is an honor to be included in such a prestigious event, Mr. Wayne,” She smiled, “and I was truly looking forward to attending.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Looking around he saw the guests now, more than ever, staring at them both. He grew used to the looks, the whispers and the talking, it wasn't uncommon for people to talk about him. Usually he would push them aside but tonight he wondered what to do, their voices mixing and nearly overcoming his own. “Do you?”

“Dance? While I am honored by your invitation, I still prefer to enjoy the evening in solitude.” Shaking her head she watched Bruce’s face twist and smiled at it, “But perhaps somewhere else?” Whispering she gently ran her thumb, over the edge of her champagne glass, before gently placing it down as her body passed his and she went to where no one would be.

The wind curled through her hair, body shivering slightly before she heard the very door she came from open again, and turned to see him emerging into the dark where she was. Walking up she met him halfway, middle of the rooftop where her high heels stopped clicking for a moment.

“Well, May I have this dance?” Bruce said, looking down and extending his hand with a gesture that bespoke both elegance and reverence.

“You may.” Grabbing his hand she put it on her waist, grabbing his other and slowly starting to cascade around the concrete.

“I’ve heard there's an exquisite art exhibition happening in the city. Have you had the pleasure of attending?” Spinning her he watched Arella’s body twirl before going back to flush against his, creating body heat.

“There is?” Pushing the question aside with her own she pretended to be intrigued, as if she hadn't already explored that very art exhibition he mentioned, smiling at the conversation before she laid her head on his chest for a moment.

“Then, with great pleasure, I shall accompany you to the very esteemed event.” Speaking for the hell of it he noticed the words that left a little too late. Blinking a few times he looked out past the woods, seeing the almost city with them. Did he mean it? It was always push and shove with women, tom and jerry for years even as he matured. He wouldn’t be an idiot to say it wasn’t thrilling. The chase, wanting it to end so badly but if it did, the only thing spoiled would be the fun of it all.

“Quite the commitment, isn’t it, Mr. Wayne?” Arella smiled, pulling away a little as she didn’t see his face falter. It was just as cold as her own, their own emotions flooding silently through like a dam bursting open. She once wanted someone, knowing enough the mere act of stay should have been the first sign but with how long it had been. As time passed, she couldn't help but marvel at his resilience, how much she pushed him and how much he bounced back, not taking no for an answer in the most extraordinary way. She remembered first meeting him, throwing it all aside, walking the line just for him. She had put her life in danger more than once and only got angry at the outcome, angry at herself, for letting him in without a second guess.

He could still hear the echo of the throat closed goodbye from someone he once really wanted more than anything, attempting to call it quits, on the rooftop with their eyes on beautiful horizon. It was unthinkable to throw her away, the truth he came back less than three months later, falling into her bed, into her embrace and never wanting to leave. He figured she longed for him as well even if they were together, but in the end they were all memories.

They were just young, fool and dumb kids, who were in love. One with a hero and one with hell.

Pushing her head back as if to conceal her expression Arella kept dancing, even when his feet stopped, she waited for it, waited for time to shift when she stared into his sapphire eyes. Feeling the adrenaline, the touch of his hand as he went down her dress, slowly making her chest turn to breathe heavier. It was torture, the more he moved, the more he touched, the more she felt teased, body hot, leaving her mouth ajar, lips grazing against the fabric unintentionally.

“Care for a tour of the manor?” Bruce whispered in her ear, taking nothing but a nod of agreement before he placed both hands on her waist and forced the woman’s body around, pushing her down the stairs and back into the manor.

She felt the dress fall way faster than the door closed. Talking, stumbling, still entered the room away from the whispers and murmurs, but his lips coating her neck made Arella care less to tell, her painted fingernails running through Bruce’s hair. She moaned softly, his name going over the people chatting below.

“Would you kindly maintain silence, Mrs. Roth? Solely for my sake, if you may.” Running his fingers between her thighs he got back up to face her, pushing her legs until they hit the bed and he could crawl on top, only thing left, his boxers. His muscles flexed, legs made from a sculpture in clay themselves pushed her soft thighs apart, abs running down her toned stomach as he laced their lips, tongues and every thing making their mind grow wild. “I never thought you would actually come, Mrs. Roth.” Kissing her neck he felt her body move, legs sliding before he forced his hand upon them once more.

“M-Mr. Wayne!” Gasping as his fingers entered her pussy and she arched her back, feeling his thumb rub her clit softly as she began to move more, growing wet and hot by the every passing moment. “M-Me neither!” Scrambling for words as his fingers moved faster, biting her lip to stay silent she opened her eyes to see his face, a small smile playing as her own hand cupped his growing arousal.

Stopping abruptly, Bruce got up and forced down the boxers, sliding his tip against her, feeling the wetness coat as he groaned, slipping in without halt to hear her whimper, fingernails now grabbing, leaving marks on his shoulders.

“You’re so beautiful.” Thrusting in and out he looked down, watching her breasts move with every thrust, nipples hard as his tongue lapped over them while her head was thrown back in pleasure, eyes blown up like his. “God Mrs. Roth..”

His deep voice only turned her on even more, trying to move her hips as well but he had gotten faster, making her moan at every thrust and little movement, wanting it to never stop. “P-Please! I.. ah- Mr. Wayne please.” Moaning out she ran her nails down his back, in an attempt to urge him go harder.

Without word he ran a hand down, gently rubbing her clit as she jumped, scoffing darkly he began to fuck her harder, his cock making slapping sounds through the room before he lost himself and roughly moved his thumb, not bothering to stop ever after he heard his name in a loud moan, after her body grew limb and he had still not finished. Instead he felt her body jerk and quiver every time, not stopping one moment of euphoria until he jerked and emptied himself inside her.

“Shit!” Forcing his cock deeper he stopped, huffing out a sigh as he stopped and fell back onto her.

“It appears that I am granted the opportunity to spend the night, am I not?” Taking his weight on her, Arella smiled, fingers running through her damp hair before she saw him look up and smile softly, pecking her lips, until she chased his lips again. It was never a question she would take his offer to take her to the exibition, everyone from guests to security knew, the question was do they really have a future? Between the fights and work, the confusing emotions and scary past,

Do they really want a future?

[pinkiepiebones]

One thing I want to know: I'd love to hear about your art that's currently on exhibit!

Eeee okay so there was an open call for people in my profession to submit things, you could submit three things max and it was up to the gallery to determine what if anything got in. I submitted three small baskets I wove (one during Lockdown, two last summer). I've dabbled in almost every art medium but find myself going back to fibers... Anyway, yeah, they displayed all three. And of the people who submitted work, only myself and one other person did fiber arts!! Which is not to discount the work of everyone else of course, but when a show is like 80% paintings and 15% ceramics, three little woven baskets kinda stand out :3

And here they are! For size ref, I use the tall one to hold pens. :3 They are small but I weave TIGHT- if you were to pick one up and hold it to your eye, you would see only darkness, no stray dots of light can penetrate that weaving. It's kinda hypnotic, weaving. I've never woven traditionally (that is, with reeds), but I've done baskets like this and loom stuff (several members of Ghost own bags I've made). Baskets are less stressful than loom work imho...

[thegeminisage]

ASK MEME

i got tagged by @runawaymarbles, tyvm i lov doing these

What book are you currently reading?

no books atm but i'm actually getting through the entire tag of a rarepair from ff13...only 41 fics :(

What’s your favorite movie you saw in theatres this year?

did i go to a theater this year...? surely at least once. OH YEAH i went to see sonic 2. since that's the only movie i saw in theaters this year that'll be my favorite one

What do you usually wear?

comfy-at-home clothes: tank top, shorts, no-show socks, hair fork, & bandana. out & about clothes: bandana & hair fork if i'm working or my hair needs washing, otherwise i keep it loose. a lot of black pants/shorts and bright glittery monochrome or tye-dye tank tops w/ black or rainbow choker, rainbow earrings, pride bracelet, smiley face ring, rainbow ring, ace ring, and sometimes my triforce necklace. if it's cold i will also wear rainbow arm warmers/socks and fingerless gloves with the pink peace symbols on them. if i'm REALLY dressing up i will wear rainbow tights under a long shirt or short dress. wow sorry this is the longest answer so far i just really love bright fashion!!! i can't believe god nerfed me by making plus sized clothes fucking suck so bad

How tall are you?

5’1 :/

What’s your Star Sign? Do you share a birthday with a celebrity or a historical event?

i think i'm actually a cancer LMFAO. and stuck with this username...idk about any celebrities but my birthday IS on the summer solstice which is absolutely bitchin' in my professional opinion. i could not possibly have asked for a better date although i do wish it didn't have to fall on father's day sometimes

Do you go by your name or a nick-name?

i go by liz which is not my legal first name. technically my legal middle name isn't liz either it's like elizabeth obviously but my first name is cringefail and nobody can spell it OR say it so i just don't tell most people what it is lol. i started going by liz when i was in 8th grade and sometimes my mom STILL messes it up...

Did you grow up to become what you wanted to be when you were a child?

no BUT as a kid i really really really really REALLY wanted pink hair. as an adult no one can stop me. kid me would be so jealous of adult me's look in EVERY way

What’s something you’re good at vs. something you’re bad at?

good at: dreaming. you know how in the 40s-60s most people dreamed in black and white because that was how tv looked? apparently if you play enough video games you'll get so good at controlling a simulated environment you can simply wake up on command. i never completely mastered lucid dreaming but it's a neat trick anyway. bad at: sleeping. exhibit a: i am answering this meme at 2:30 in the fucking morning, and i have not had 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep since december 10. that's like 28 days!

Dogs or cats?

CATS!!!!!!! i like dogs too tho

What’s something you would like to create stuff for?

i would love to draw some zelda art. i just need a new tablet sadly none of the old ones work with my pc

If you draw/write, or create in any way, what’s your favourite picture/favourite line/favourite etc. from something you created this year?

UGH i can't post it, it's in the undisclosed project

What’s something you’re currently obsessed with?

so a very long time ago when we were teenagers my brother showed me minecraft. i played half an hour of it and then gave the controller back and told him i couldn't keep going because i would quite literally never put it down if i did. unfortunately i did NOT show that same level of foresight and self-restraint when downloading the demo of SLIME RANCHER. in my defense i was utterly unprepared for its sheer potency. i played exactly four minutes of the demo before i caved and bought it - $5 was a steal - without realizing how absolutely lethal it is to combine adhd with a farming sim especially during seasonal depression months. this thing has been churning out dopamine so fast my stupid little rat brain can't keep up. i'm frying every last pleasure receptor i ever had as thoroughly as i possibly can. i am begging one of you to physically come to my house and uninstall it from my pc.

What’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?

andor 🙏 sorry to all andor enjoyers but it fucking sucked (except for the prison break)

What’s a hidden talent of yours?

i'm freakishly good at packing things. items into boxes, boxes into vehicles, organizing drawers and closets, etc. at my house we call it "tetrising" since i guess that's a pro gamer move that translates to the real world..................

Are you religious?

no i am disqualified for being gay <3

What’s something you wish to have at this moment?

a completed copy of this photo album i'm supposed to be making. i got behind bc i was playing slime rancher :(

ok im tagging @slaygentford @maulthots @brownbicon @machidielontheway @paty-ofarrell @ozymandiasdirge @moogleterra @marcelgerard @elsa12tmnt @smellslikebot @youngbenkenobi and anyone else who wants to do it, do it & say i tagged you!!

[sinelanguage]

ok, museum thoughts blogging time:

Tate Britain:

echo lake peter doig: probably my favorite painting of the gallery. mysterious figures! eerie atmosphere! it’s such a good contrast of the dark greenery and dark blood red lake. and the lime-green leaves been completely absent in the reflection. the dude without a discernible face.

i’m desperate gillian wearing cbe hahahaha this is just a photo of a business man in a tight smile with dead eyes and a paper saying “im desperate” i hate that my life is just relating to fucking business men but here i am LMAO

peace - burial at sea JMW Turner ok so this guy was also obsessed with sea wrecks lmao. this one hit the most because it’s Such a sunny perfect day but it’s contrasted with the bleak black sails of a burning ship. anyway good shit. i see online that there’s corners of the painting I didn’t see because it was in an ostentatious frame im furious

ophelia sir john everett millais ok it’s Ophelia it was expected lol. but the vibe of this was actually great, personally, since i got there early and was like the only person there. the floorboards were also super creaky. the specific gallery was filled with a bunch of sad victorian women paintings. good atmosphere for me, personally, to experience this

morris tapestries and rossettis exhibit were also good, though i don’t have much to say specifically. only so much to write about sad beautiful victorian women looking sad and beautiful. sorry i am not an artist lol

i went to three other museums lmao most not art. (science, nat history) i have less intelligent things to say about those

but victoria and Albert museum did have art

main thing is this museum is overwhelming lmao. of all the museums i went to this is the one that was the absolute most “look at all the shit we plundered” there’s such little intent behind some of the displays other than getting as much of riches in the room as possible

torn quilt with effects of sunlight Scott this photo was nice though

[jolibet8]

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Resorts and Spa’s in Karnataka

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Emanation Lower regions

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MangoMist Resort

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Guhantara Resort

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Taj Madikeri Resort and Spa

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Homestay Chikmagalur

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