#based loosely on the daydream hour cover with everyone dancing....

[treasureplcnet]

lots of kabru's party content in the latest ep so i felt compelled to draw my favorite little guys in all of dunmeshi

[sunlightheidi]

I was buzzed in Waikiki a couple of weeks ago – giggling and dancing and spewing wise words to a handsome surfing dude I’d just met (Masaru, if you’re reading this; I fell in love with you just a little bit). Aaanyway, this is loosely based on that paradise. Enjoy ~

[I am the queen of uploading at ungodly hours. Sorry.]

Jihyun Kim "V" x MC/Reader

The sun is setting far in the horizon and the ocean water is sparkling.

Jihyun delights in learning new things about you; today, he’s discovered how your very soul seems to come alive near water. You glow – tanned by the sunlight, kissed and softened by the ocean breeze. Your hair falls down your back in messy waves and your legs are covered in sand, but your smile is radiant.

Your bikini strap slips right off your shoulder and the sun seems to shine right out from your skin.

He’s a man transfixed by the way you move; can’t contain the urge to brush your hair away from your shoulder and kiss your salty skin. His lips trail up your neck and he sucks softly at your pulse point; smirks against you when you sigh and recline further against his chest.

“I wish we could stay here forever,” you mumble, your bottom lip pouting – he wants to lean forward and take it between his teeth.

“On the beach drinking soju, you mean?”

“Yes, it’s wonderful!” you giggle wildly, wiggling around from your spot between his legs. After the three green bottles that you have finished, he imagines everything is funny.

He has hasn’t had any soju besides a sip from your bottle because he’s driving later; not that he has much of a taste for it anyway.

Oh, but seeing you under these open skies – silly and without a care in the world – it makes him feel a little dizzy too.

The beach is a little busy with people coming out to celebrate Green Day under the sun, but there’s a group of couples that has caught his attention. They’ve made a bonfire on the sand, have brought logs to sit around its warmth as they drink their own soju; have chosen to not only spend the day with their own partner, but with friends as well.

They are together and they are laughing – at each other, with each other – celebrating and enjoying each other’s love and friendship.

For the first time that day, he feels a deep sorrow in his chest; grief over friendships still unrecovered and precious memories never made.

“Do you think our friends are also celebrating?”

You push yourself off his legs and twist around so fast it gives him whiplash. You crawl into his lap, straddle his waist, and his breath hitches at your closeness.

Your eyes are sad as you brush away his bangs from his face, comb out the salty mess of his hair – he leans into your touch, basking in your attention.

“I’m sure they are. Everyone has someone to spend the day with,” you assure him, caress his cheek with a tenderness he’s discovered is completely unique to you. “I am sorry that you can’t be with them today.”

“They are not ready to forgive me yet, I understand.” He takes your hand in his, grips it tightly.

And if they choose to never speak to him again, he would understand that too.

“Give them time,” you smile softly and bring his hand to your lips, kiss his knuckles. “You have atoned for the things you’ve done, but everyone heals differently.”

He hums in acknowledgement, knows that you are right. The hurt he caused is still there, it can’t be forgotten and forgiveness is never owed. He only hopes that one day, he’ll be able to celebrate with them – to sit around a bonfire and laugh the night away.

“I have all that I need, right here” he smirks, surprises you when he wraps his arms around your waist and lets himself fall backwards into the softness of the white sand. His heart clenches in joy as you laugh yourself against his chest.

“Jihyun, I have a confession.” You are still laughing; eyes sparkling. “I think I’m a little drunk.”

He chuckles at your declaration, pretends to be surprised by it as he brushes away the hair hanging in your face. He smells vanilla, salted caramel. “You think so, love?”

You nod your head but stop just as quickly; blink once, twice – disoriented. “Yes, the ground is spinning.”

“Do you wish to go home, now?” He asks. Selfishly, he doesn’t want the day to end, but you haven’t had enough food to balance all the soju you’ve finished, and the sky is beginning to darken anyway.

You look at him confused, almost disappointed. “No, I want to go in the water.”

You push up from his lap, don’t give him a second to reply or pull you back. His surprise turns into amusement as he watches the way your feet sink into the sand and you stumble.

There are people watching; some in amusement, some in concern, but finds he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks. For once in his life, he wants to feel like he is living in the moment and not staring at it from behind a lens or a wishful dream.

He wants to be here, with you – in this daydream you have made into his reality.

But you are also drunk, and he needs to go get you regardless.

Without a second thought, he stands up and follows you to the line where the sand meets the ocean. You shriek in delight when you look over your shoulder and see him chasing after you; and he laughs like he never has before when you run straight into the water, open your arms wide like a bird and spin.

He figures this is what freedom feels like.

You are a graceful storm – mischief and joyful charm – full of ringing laughter as he reaches you and you tug him by the waistband of his swim shorts and into the waves. You mutter something soft and sweet right before you crush your mouth to his.

“Happy Green Day, lover.”

[98prilla]

Absorbing Anxiety

Based on @loveceit ‘s concept of Virgil being able to absorb the worries of the other sides! It was such a great concept and I loved it, so here’s my little take on it. Please let me know what you think!

They were all in the kitchen of the mindscape. Usually, they each grabbed food individually or just conjured up stuff when they wanted to eat, but Patton insisted once a week they all cook and hang out and eat with each other. A family supper, you could say.

Currently, Patton was looking over Roman's shoulder, trying to instruct him in making spaghetti sauce. Virgil was sitting at the kitchen island, watching them bicker, absolutely sure they were going to start the stove on fire. Then it would spread to the rest of the kitchen, the table, their rooms, it would be nothing but searing heat and dancing flames. He could taste the ash in his mouth, feel the smoke choking his lungs, his skin burning and blistering as he fought through the fire, trying to escape, but it was everywhere, there was no way out.

“Yo, edge lord!” He jerked at Roman's voice, cutting through his daydream. Or day mare? Whatever.

“what, prince of annoying me?” he asked, glaring slightly up at him from under his bangs.

“Honestly Roman, did you even bother to read over the recipe for this dish before you began cooking?” Logan asked, entering, distracting Roman. Virgil breathed out a slight sigh, glad to feel the attention shift away from him.

“Please, I’m a master chef! I can improvise with the best of them!” He replied, spucking spaghetti sauce against the wall as he gestured with the spoon he’d been using for stirring. Virgil snorted and Logan sighed, adjusting his glasses.

“He’s doing great, Logan! He just needs some more practice.” Patton countered, gently taking away the spoon from Roman anyway.

“So did Undyne” Virgil muttered to himself. He didn’t notice Logan’s attention shift his way, or the hint of puzzlement that slipped into his gaze. Virgil had seemed more, well, anxious of late, and he was going to solve this mystery.

They were at the table, Virgil having set the places while Logan monitored the kitchen, which helped put his mind at ease about the whole fire thing. Despite Roman’s best attempts, the pasta was quite good, and Virgil could practically live off garlic bread, which always accompanied this meal. It was relatively quiet as they all ate. Usually Patton would finish first, and then quiz everyone else about their day.

They all had their own schedules, though obviously they worked together quite a bit. Logan got them all up by 9am usually. They would all scrounge for breakfast, or Patton would make pancakes. Usually Roman would grumble and moan for twenty minutes before actually getting up, while Virgil was one of the first in the kitchen, making coffee. They’d socialize a bit, then split off, Logan trying to make sure Thomas followed his schedule, usually having to reign in Patton, who wanted to chase after every dog they passed on the street. Roman was usually brain storming or questing through the imagination for new and interesting ideas, sometimes bringing the rest of them along. Virgil hated to admit it, but he actually kind of liked these excursions. It was a bit like playing live d&d. He was a rogue type, obviously. And other than that, Virgil kept Thomas aware of his surroundings, of any dangers, of impending deadlines, of things that needed to be worked on urgently and things that could wait. Usually they all had some down time in the evening they spent together, or with Thomas as well, then it was off to bed. Virgil usually was up the latest, going down rabbit holes of conspiracy theories or loose ends from the day, trying not to keep Thomas awake.

“Could you pass the bread, kiddo?” Patton asked. Virgil smiled, coming out of his thoughts.

“anything for you, Pat.” He replied, passing the plate across the table to Patton. For a moment as the plate passed from one hand to another, their fingers touched.

Insecurities. About being too silly, not being taken seriously, not being listened to, being dismissed. He only wanted to help, but it seemed nothing he did was ever good enough, or just caused more harm. All his nostalgia and daydreaming just distracted from what was important, what was real and there and now, but he couldn’t let go of the past, even when it hurt. So he clung to it like a lifeline even when he knew it was better to let go, and it hurt…

Virgil bit his lip as he pulled his hand away, making sure no one else saw the slight flicker of shadow that vanished into his skin, absorbed by his being. He noticed with satisfaction that Patton chartered away the rest of the meal, eyes bright and filled with excitement, all the clouds gone from his mind. He didn’t notice Logan’s appraising eyes on him. Virgil went to bed early that night.

                 Roman was pacing the living room. Virgil was sitting on the couch, headphones on, playing some podcast he was only really half listening to as he watched Roman endlessly walking back and forth, wearing holes in the carpet. He was muttering to himself too, which was never a good sign. With a sigh he pulled the headphones down around his neck.

         “Having trouble, Romeo?” He asked, smirking despite himself. It was always fun to see Roman in a bit of a pickle, it didn’t happen too often that creativity couldn’t think of anything creative.

         “I’ve been brainstorming for hours, and I’ve got nothing, nada, zero! It’s hopeless. I’ll never have another idea.” He plopped dramatically onto the couch, arm splayed across his forehead. Virgil snorted.

         “Please. You’re literally the embodiment of ideas. How hard could it be to think of an idea for a video?” He asked, and Roman immediately sat up, a gleam in his eye as he looked at Virgil.

         “Oh alright. Hit me with something. Give it a go. What’ve you got, off the top of your head?” Roman asked. Virgil didn’t even blink.

         “Ghost hunting. Get an audio tape, an emf reader, and boom, video.” Roman shook his head.

         “You know that will scare Patton to death, and Logan will be talking our ear off the entire time about the scientific impossibility of ghosts. In the end, Thomas won’t believe we’ve found something even if a full bodied apparition appears in front of us.” Roman replied. “Anything else?”

         “Hmm could do more gaming stuff with his friends. Everyone seems to love that, haven’t done a Kingdom Hearts episode in a while. I know you love Disney.” Virgil teased.

         “Tempting, tempting, but been there done that. I’m trying to think of something different, something we haven’t already done before.” Virgil groaned, leaning back against the couch.

         “Alright, maybe this is a biit harder than I was giving you credit for. But you’ll think of something. It’s what you do. Go run around in the imagination for a while, beat up the dragon witch, I dunno.” Virgil replied, reaching up to push back his hair, grazing Roman’s arm with his own as he did so.

         Worries. Nothing he did was original anymore, was showstopping, amazing, attention getting. It was only a matter of time before everyone found out he was a fraud, before he ran out of ideas permanently, and then Thomas’s career would be over. He’d have ruined it for all them, for Thomas, let them all down. Or worse, he’d be deposed by Remus. Thomas’s content would turn into a dumpster fire and all of his loving fans would turn against him, the backlash would be on national TV, he’d be the laughing stock of the entire internet, no one would care about him anymore. And he’d be powerless to do anything about it, because deep down, he was just a faker. He was nothing, nothing at all.

         Virgil barely registered Roman’s rushed farewell as he hurried off to his room, alight with some new idea he needed to start sketching out before he lost it. Virgil flipped his hood up, looking at his arm. It took the darkness longer to fade this time, and he didn’t know why. It had never felt like this before, so overwhelming, so built up. He drew in a breath, trying to contain his own spiraling thoughts.

         It had to be something to do with being originally a “dark side” now living in the “light side”. It had to be something to do with the others. Deceit, if he had to place his bets. Because of him, he was so full on his own personal stress and worry that it was harder and took longer to absorb the other’s. But he had to. If they wanted to get anything done, he had to. He could handle it. He always had, anyways.

           It was dark. Whispers chased him through twisting corridors, faint voices that whispered he was worthless, he’d never be forgiven, he was unworthy of their love, he was a liar and a fraud and a cheat. He ran faster, trying to outrun those words, trying to scream, to say it wasn’t true, but his words caught in his throat until he choked on them, falling to his knees, unable to breath. The whispers buzzed around his head, burrowed into his skin, each one biting deeper than the last until there was nothing of him left and he dissolved into a shadow. Desperatly, he tried to reach the others, but they couldn’t seem to hear him.

         He watched them wait for him for breakfast, only for him to never arrive. Saw them knock on his door with worry, force it open to find no sign of him. He saw Patton crying, sitting on his bed, hugging tight the card Virgil had once made for him. He tried to reach out, to comfort him, but the scene burned away, flaking away like ash, leaving him once again in suffocating darkness, knowing there was nothing, nothing he could do.

         He jolted awake to a knock at his door, breathing heavy and panicked, unsure for a moment where he was.

         “Virgil? May I speak with you?” It was Logan. He furrowed his brow, looking at the clock beside his bed. It was early, seven am, but Logan was usually an early riser. Then he looked down, biting back a yelp.

         His arms were covered in inky shadows, no doubt the result of his nightmare. It looked almost like his skin was luminescent with darkness, like he was becoming a shadow himself. His breath hitched again at the thought. What if his nightmare was a warning? What if he was going to fade away and only be able to watch as everything fell apart, and no one would be able to keep Thomas safe anymore, and he’d no doubt do something stupid and get himself killed.

         Or worse, selfishly worse, what if nothing changed? What if Thomas was happier, what if he was more productive? What if he got videos done on schedule and came up with innovative ideas and found someone good to love, because all this time he had only been standing in Thomas’s way, and they’d all been too blind to see it?

         “Virgil?” He barely heard Logan’s voice anymore. His airway was constricted, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. The room was swirling, closing in around him, and he didn’t have any space, any air, there wasn’t any room, any light, any sound…

         “Stop it.” He whispered, the buzzing words swirling around him, eating away at him. He covered his ears, tears tracking down his face as they grew louder and louder, drowning him out. Coward, useless, stupid, foolish, childish, dreamer, idiot…

         “STOP IT!” He shouted, and suddenly the whispers ceased, the darkness vanished from his skin, the room expanded and it was blessedly silent. He collapsed against the bed, curling into himself, unable to stop shaking. It was so much, when had it all become so much? How did he ever do this without any problem? This was his job, it was what he was made for, made of, why was it hurting so much now?

         “Virgil. Please. Please just… just open the door.” Logan’s voice was steady as ever, but something about it, the tone, the octave, made Virgil listen without registering what he was doing, and his door clicked open.

         He heard footsteps, slow and soft, like Logan was afraid of scaring him away, like he was a startled deer ready to bolt at any moment. He felt the bed shift beside him, felt Logan’s weight on it.

         “You’re not feeling well.” It wasn’t a question, and Virgil didn’t bother answering, no point in denying it. Then Logan reached out.

         “Don’t-“ He yelped, trying to pull back, but Logan had already grabbed hold of his wrist. As he watched, it turned almost translucent, revealing the shadows swirling around inside, thick and viscous, like a combination of oil and smog roiling beneath his skin. He heard Logan inhale sharply, felt his eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up. To see the disgust and fear and pity on his face, to see him recoil now that he’d seen what lay beneath the surface, now that he knew what he really was.

         “I thought so.” Was what he mused instead. Virgil’s head jerked up, looking at Logan, who was staring into the distance, as if calculating something in his head. “How long have you been using this ability?” He asked. Virgil hunched his shoulders, hugging his knees to his chest.

         “What ability?” He muttered. He felt Logan’s stern gaze on him again, then heard him sigh.

         “I noticed you doing it to Patton the other night. You touched his hand, then he became noticeably more… well, cheery. And Roman, the other day. He’d had writers block for hours, then two minutes with you and he’s writing up a storm. I’ve noticed other times, too, where short interactions with you suddenly leave one of the others more lighthearted and you more downcast, especially and concerningly so as of late. So, I will ask again. How long have you been using this ability?” Virgil bit his lip, hesitating, before shrugging.

         “Always. I’ve always had it. Always used it, even when I was... was one of Them. Makes sense, right? Anxiety can absorb other Sides’ anxieties. Makes it easier for everyone to function, doesn’t impede me doing my job. After a while it just, I dunno, fades away from me.” He replied.

         “But now it isn’t, is it? Instead of gradually fading away, it is instead accumulating to previously unforeseen levels, perhaps dangerously so and to your detriment.”

         “I’m fine, teach. Just some added worries. Nothing I can’t handle.” Virgil replied, giving Logan a smile, stretching. Logan simply frowned.

         “You’re not fine, Virg. I could feel you, the whole mindscape could. You’ve never felt like that, not even during a panic attack. This, what you’re doing, I don’t know why it’s hurting you this way now, when it wasn’t before, but you need to stop using it, at least until we can figure out why.” Virgil looked like he was going to argue for a moment, but then he deflated, seeming to sink into himself.

         “then what good am I? If I can’t even do my job, what’s the point?” He whispered, voice shaking.

         “Oh Virgil. This isn’t your job. It’s not your job to take away everyone else’s worries, it’s not your job to put all of that on yourself, it’s not your job to keep it all inside you until you fall apart and your emotional well being is compromised. Your job is to keep Thomas safe, and doing what he needs to, in order to survive.”

         Then Logan was suddenly hugging him. He blinked in surprise before leaning into it, letting all his own stress cry itself dry. Virgil was too preoccupied to notice, but Logan wasn’t, as he watched some of the darkness swirling inside Virgil slip onto his own skin, and sink into it. He felt a bit heavier, a bit more stressed for no particular reason than usual, but it wasn’t cumbersome, and it wasn’t a hinderance to his function.

         He realized that just as Virgil could siphon away other’s stresses and worries, he too, could siphon away some of Virgil’s. He wondered if all of the others could do it. It made sense, that it would work both ways. He supposed it would naturally fade away over time, but that it faded faster the less there was, just as worries, once stacked on top of each other, lingered longer than if they had been one single thought.

         He ran the calculations in his mind. He could take a bit from Virgil, make sure it dissipated fully, then take some more, and soon he would be back to normal levels. As long as he monitored the situation, and started easing some of the added worry before it built up to such high levels again, it shouldn’t affect either of them. He would have to be discreet, of course, just as Virgil didn’t want anyone to know he was siphoning away their anxieties, Virgil wouldn’t approve of Logan taking away his.

         “It’s ok, Virgil. It’s ok.” Logan whispered, hesitantly stroking Virgil’s hair as he rocked him. He generally wasn’t the one dealing with emotions, and was slightly out of practice in comforting people, but his efforts seemed to be working as Virgil’s sobs slowly came to a halt, and he drew away, wiping his eyes.

         “I don’t know why it’s so much. Why it… it hurts, so much. It’s never been like this before, never. Something must be wrong with me, something isn’t working right.” Virgil rambled, wiping his nose on his sweater sleeve.

         “Just take a break from using it for a while, alright? You have so much accumulated right now, it just needs more time to break down. Don’t use it for, let’s say a week, and then we’ll see how you feel. As long as you are honest with me about the state of the build up. Ok?” Logan asked, Virgil meeting his eyes as he nodded.

         “Ok teach.” Logan smiled softly.

         “good. Now, do you want to try and get some more rest, or do you want to come help with breakfast?” Virgil smiled wryly.

         “I think sleep is out of the question. Might as well make sure the kitchen doesn’t go down in flames.” They made small talk the rest of the morning as they cooked, the repetitive pattern of it soothing Virgil’s mind somewhat, letting him relax without realizing it, making Logan sigh with relief.

         It seemed he’d managed to get this power of Virgil’s under control once again. But that begged the question, if it had been previously under control, who had been siphoning away the stress from Virgil? Certainly not Remus. So, it must have been… Deceit?

Not for the first time, Logan wondered how close Virgil had been with the others before moving to the other side of the mindscape. Close enough that small touches of affection were acceptable, if Deceit truly had been managing Virgil’s skill. Yet Virgil seemed to hate him so vehemently now. He sighed, flipping pancakes. That was a mystery for another day.