#didn’t like the shading on the original so I fixed it

[finalset]

solace (final)

[cuteniaarts]

Last time I drew Midori in this AU, she was stiff and uncomfortable bc that’s how she feels like among other people, so this time I wanted to draw her more at peace with herself, alone, for a moment not ashamed of her heritage

Honestly, I just realised how long it’s been since I drew a sunset, so I wanted to rectify that, while also playing around with pretty colours, even if it isn’t completely reflective of how nature actually works

The motto of this piece of “No thoughts, just vibes”

(click for better quality)

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 21

Word Count- 8.4k

Warnings- UNEDITED SUE ME- It's 4 AM and I’ve been working on this for the past 5 hours. Swearing, blood, stabbing, reader threatening to off herself with a spoon (idk man), death of a background character, Klaus, Stefan.

“AHHHH,” A loud scream escapes my mouth and I grab the closest thing to me and throw it.

“I’m happy to see you as well, Y/n.”

Elijah?

 I blink rapidly as I try to calm my racing heart. I stare wide-eyed at the suited Original before me, and he smiles back at me. His eyes drop momentarily and something shifts in his gaze.

“Maybe you should change, and then we’ll discuss it, " Elijah says, turning to my desk and sitting in my chair as if he owned the place.

I frown in confusion at what he meant but as I glance down at the bright pink towel that is covering my wet body I freeze.

 “Oh my god!”

I tighten my grip on my towel and run towards my closet. I squeeze into my tiny closet and shut the door. As I’m trying my hardest to put any clothing on my body, I swear I can hear Elijah laugh to himself from outside the door. 

As soon as I think my body is covered I take a deep breath. Elijah is in my bedroom. ELIJAH IS IN MY BEDROOM.

Deep breaths Y/n.

I release a shaky breath and open my closet door. I can feel my heart practically jump out of my chest when I lock eyes with Elijah as he smiles softly at me. His gaze drifts down and his soft smile turns into a shit-eating grin. 

“Is that so, Elskan,” Elijah asks me with humor in his voice and I frown.

“What?”

Elijah doesn’t say anything but he nods towards my shirt. I don’t understand what’s funny until I realize what shirt I’m wearing. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I say as I glance down at the shirt Theo bought for me for my birthday. The shirt that says, in big bold letters “Say Perhaps to Drugs.”

“I don’t do drugs,” I exclaim and then gesture to the door, “My brother got this for me and I knew I’d never wear it so I put it in the back of my closet but it was dark in there and so I must’ve just grabbed this.”

Elijah and I stared at each other for a moment after I got done rambling. Elijah seems to be finding everything incredibly entertaining though as his smile hasn’t dropped this entire time.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead,” I blurt out and his smile drops for a second but returns a moment later.

“I’ve been dead for a millennium, Elskan,” Elijah retorts and I glare at him.

Elijah clears his throat and straightens out his suit jacket, “You’re… acquaintance Damon took the dagger out of me. I’m to meet him tomorrow morning.”

My eyebrows furrow, “Demon, helped you? I didn’t know he was capable of that?”

Elijah releases a sigh, “You are not the only one.”

I stare at the Original in front of me, well more like ogle. Not much has changed since the last time I saw him, he’s still got his god-like bone structure, expensive-ass clothing, and beautiful dark eyes. What has changed though is the new haircut, instead of the middle part, he’s now sporting a somewhat spiky shorter hairdo. And it pisses me off just how good he makes it look. 

“You got a haircut,” I state the obvious as I sit on the edge of my bed. 

“Um,” I watch as Elijah fixes a stray hair of his, “I just had it done, it’s something different,” I have to bite back a smile at Elijah’s sudden awkwardness. 

“I like it,” I blurt out and Elijah instantly looks up at me. 

“You do?”

The smile I was holding back peeks through at the look on his face. Elijah has the same look on his that a dog has when you wave a tennis ball in front of its face. 

“I mean the middle part was nice, but you have the facial structure to pull this off too, so you know,” I gesture to his cheekbones and can feel my face warming up. 

“My facial structure,” Elijah questions and I want to die in a hole when I see his smirk.

I glare at Elijah and he smiles and then glances down at the book in his hands. When I realize he’s holding Fifty Shades of Grey my eyes widen.

“How did you get that?!”

Elijah glances up at me and smirks again, “I believe you just threw it at me.”

My eyes widen as I realize that the book is what I threw at him when I came into the room. 

“So this is the literature that you were telling me about?”

My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water at Elijah’s questions. 

“That’s not mine.”

Elijah raises an eyebrow, “It’s not?”

I shake my head, walk over to him, and reach out my hand for him to give me the book, “Nope. Just holding it for a friend.”

Elijah stares up at me with a smile and I feel a twisting in my stomach at the bright look in his eyes.

“Have you read it then?”

My face seems to be getting hotter at his question and I quickly shake my head, “Nope. Have you?”

Elijah places the book in the palm of my hand and I clutch it to my chest. 

“I prefer the real thing.”

I release an abnormal sound at his comment and feel my heart stop.

“The real thing?”

Elijah smirks so hard that a small dimple is shown on his cheek, “You know, real literature. Not that,” He gestures to the book with his hand, “thing.”

]I release a deep breath, “Oh.”

Elijah nods his head and then raises an eyebrow at me, “What did you think I was talking about?”

I squint my eyes at him and then shake my head rapidly, “Same thing as you. Exactly the same thing. Um,” At the knowing look on Elijah’s face, I fight back a growl. 

“How did you get in my house,” I ask, trying to change the subject. 

Elijah seems to realize this as he lets out a small breathy laugh, “Your mother, is quite the inviting woman. I told her I was writing my book about Mystic Falls and that I was working on a chapter about people who’ve moved to Mystic Falls and she was quite excited to tell me her story.”

At the mention of my mother, a dark feeling washes over me and I clench my fists. 

“Elskan? Is everything alright?”

I rub my shoulder and nod my head, “Peachy. Also, why are you here,” I turn to face him and he looks at me wearily. 

“I’ve been gone quite a while. Not that I wanted to be, for the record. I know that my brother has been in town and I wanted to…needed to make sure you’re okay.”

My eyebrows furrow as he watches me. 

“I’m fine, Elijah.”

“You don’t look fine, Y/n,” Elijah stands up and fixes his suit.

“Ouch,” I bite out sarcastically.

Elijah shoots me a look and shakes his head, “That is not what I mean, Elskan. There will never be a day in my immortality that I think you look anything other than ethereal, but… it’s in your eyes. Before I left you, you had a softer look in your eyes. But now… I’m not sure, but I know something has changed. What’s happened since I’ve been gone, Y/n?”

What’s happened since Elijah was daggered in front of me? Well…

I became besties with a vampire who was hired by his brother to stalk me. 

I got shot. 

Found out my dad, isn’t my dad.

Moved out and moved in with Damon, who is kind of one of my closest friends now.

I keep having tiny heart attacks.

My brother knows about the supernatural. 

I got kidnapped by Stefan and was saved by his brother.

Klaus. In general. Klaus kissing me. Yup.

“Um… not much. You know, average Mystic Falls stuff.”

Elijah still stares at me like he doesn’t believe me, “Y/n-”

“Have you seen your brother yet?”

Elijah quickly stops his talking at my interruption and his upper lip twitches.

“Momentarily.”

I blow out a breath at his lack of answer and sit in the chair he was once sitting in. 

“I’m going to guess that you two didn’t hug it out?”

Elijah walks over to my bookshelf and runs a finger over the spines of a few of my books. 

“My brother is not someone I’d like to discuss right now. Or really at any time.”

“Then what do you want to discuss,” I question as I lean back into my chair. 

Elijah turns back to glance at me, “You. I’ll always want to discuss you.”

I roll my eyes at the comment, “Nothing is interesting about me to talk about.”

Elijah walks over to me and leans against my desk. Our knees are touching and it seems to be the only thing I can focus on. I look up to Elijah and it seems I’m not the only one. Elijah’s eyes go from our touching knees to looking down at me.

“I find that incredibly doubtful, Elskan.”

I let out a light scoff but can’t stop the smile that makes its way onto my face as I look at the man. He looks back at me but this time his attention is on my lips and I swear I can see a hint of pink gracing his cheeks. 

“What do you want to know?’’

Elijah quickly clears his throat and glances up to meet my eyes, “I know you have a younger brother, Theodore, how is your relationship with him?”

At the mention of Theo’s legal name I let out a laugh, “Don’t let him hear you calling him that. But…Theo’s,” I stop and smile when I think of my annoying little brother, “He’s my everything. Don’t tell him I said that or it’ll go right to his head, and he doesn’t need anything else to build his ego. But… before when I didn’t have any friends and was pretty much alone,” I stop and clear my throat, “Theo was the only one who grounded me. He didn’t care that I was a loser, it didn’t stop him from protecting me from bullies at school or sitting with me at lunch when I had no one else. He’s my buddy and best friend.”

Elijah smiles softly at me and nods his head, “I’ll have to remember to thank him for protecting you.”

I quickly shake my head, “Please don’t. Big ego and all that.”

Elijah laughs and I feel that weird turning in my stomach. 

“Oh! Speaking of siblings, I met your sister.”

At the mention of Rebekah, Elijah furrows his brows, “You’ve met Rebekah?”

I nod, “Ya. She’s…something.”

Elijah shoots me a look and I continue, “Well, she’s nothing like you. I’d definitely say she’s more like Klaus. But unlike Klaus, she’s… I don’t know. Before Elena daggered her I could have seen myself being friends with her.”

“Yes, my little sister is quite the character,” Elijah frowns and narrows his eyes at me, “You said, unlike my brother… since I’ve been gone, have you and him,” Elijah picks at an invisible piece of lint on his shoulder, “discussed much?”

At the mention of Klaus, I go still.

“Y/n?”

I look up to Elijah who is eyeing me wearily, “Me and Klaus? I mean Klaus! Because there is no me and Klaus! It’s just Klaus!”

Elijah’s eyes narrow even more and I look away and glance at my hands. 

“I mean he hasn’t killed me so that’s something,” I say casually trying to cover up the mess I just spilled out. 

I hear Elijah let out a growl and he grabs my chin to make me look up to him, “Tell me now, Y/n. Has my brother done anything to harm you? If he has I swear to whatever Gods are out there I will-”

“Dude chill,” I move my face out of his hand and stand up.

“Klaus hasn’t hurt me,” I think about my friends, “At least not physically. Him torturing my friends has been kind of emotionally draining. But, no. Klaus, he’s been a nuisance but he’s not been horrible.”

Elijah and I watch each other, well more like I watch him and he accesses me. 

“You’re being truthful with me, right Elskan?”

I nod my head and let out a dramatic yawn, “Yup, totally. God, what is the time? I’m pooped.”

Elijah shoots me a look and then rolls his eyes dramatically.

I raise an eyebrow at him and smirk, “If you keep rolling your eyes like that, you’re going to start looking like me.”

Elijah's tense shoulders loosen and he smiles at me and gestures to my bed, “How tragic that would be. Lay down, Elskan.”

I raise an eyebrow and laugh, “Why? Are you going to tuck me in and read me a bedtime story?”

Elijah walks over to me so he’s about a foot away from me, “I don’t see why not. You’ve got plenty of literature for me to read to you,” He looks back to Fifty Shades which is still sitting on my desk. 

“I would rather die,” I blurt out. 

Elijah laughs and picks up the edge of my comforter. He gestures for me to lay down and I bite back a smile as I do. 

I get under the covers and Elijah places the comforter back down. We stare at each other for a moment before Elijah leans down. I suck in a breath and close my eyes. When I feel Elijah’s lips place a kiss on my temple I let out a sigh. 

“Goodnight, Elskan. I’ll be seeing you very soon.”

—-

My father’s in transition.

I stare blankly at the text from Caroline as I read it over and over again. 

Excuse me?

Meredith Fell gave him blood and he died with it in his system. 

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Ok. Should I meet you at the hospital? I can leave now????

I stare at the three dots as I wait for Caroline to finish typing. After what seems like forever I finally get a response. 

No. Elena is on her way. Just wanted to keep you updated. 

As soon as I read the text I pull out Elena’s contact and type out a message.

WHAT THE HELL????!!! Who killed Caroline’s dad?????

We’re not sure yet. There is someone going around killing council members. Sheriff Forbes said they were killed with one of the stakes from Ric’s collection. I’ll update you later. Stay safe<3

I sit on the edge of my bed, mouth wide open as I stare at the bomb drop that is this text message. Does Mystic Falls have a serial killer? What the fuck am I thinking?! Of course, it does, because what else could be more fucked up about this god-forsaken town!?? 

I throw my phone on my nightstand and run across the hall to Theo’s room. I throw open his door and my little brother lets out a squeal.

“Jesus woman! Knock first! I could’ve been indecent,” Theo says as he tightens his silk robe around himself dramatically. 

“When have you ever been decent in the first place,” I place my hand on my hip and glare at him.

Theo gives me an offended look.

“Also, Mystic Falls now has a serial killer,” I drop the bomb and Theo blinks at me for a few moments.

“Repeat that one more time for me,” He gestures to his right ear.

“Serial. Killer. Mystic. Falls. Stay. Inside.”

Theo nods for a moment before turning around and running towards his phone, “Leave now woman, I must tell my precious baby boy about this.”

I roll my eyes and watch as my pathetic brother dials up Jeremy’s phone number.

“You’re welcome.”

—

For the rest of the afternoon, I tried to do anything to keep me busy. I tried painting, but couldn’t paint anything. I tried reading, but couldn’t focus on the words. I even tried yoga, and now I have pains in my lower back. 

To say I pretty much jumped when my phone finally rang is an understatement.

“Hello! What’s going on!?”

“Woah, Pukey. Glad to know you’re finally excited to hear from me,” Demon’s sarcastic voice comes through on the other end. 

“You’re not who I was hoping it would be,” I groan.

“And who were you hoping? A certain Original maybe? Not sure which one you were hoping for though. We need to have another movie night so you can update me on your latest conquest.”

“What the hell are you gabbing about now, Demon?”

“Oh you know, a certain suited Original. Or maybe his younger brother who just happened to save your life the other night. Just between us girls, which one is currently tickling your fancy?”

I tighten my grip on my phone, “I’m hanging up.”

“Wait! I have a favor to ask,” Damon stops me from ending the call.

I sigh, “What is it now?”

“I need you to get yourself all dolled up and make your way to the big bad wolf’s house at 8.”

At the idea of seeing Klaus, I freeze up.

“Pukey?”

I shake my head, “That’s not happening, Damon. Deal with him on your own.”

“Y/n, come on. Help a friend out.”

“We’re not friends,” I retort.

“Lovers?”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

“I just love your dirty talk. It amazes me how you’re still single,” Damon’s sarcastic response has my upper lip twitching. 

“I’ll help you stab Stefan with a fork if you come.”

I look back to my closet, “Eight, you said?”

— 

I let out the biggest sigh possible as I stared at the huge mansion in front of me. I then groan when the fabric of my short dress rides its way up my thighs. 

After I got off the phone with Damon I went to my closet to find something to wear. I then realized that the only nice clothing I had was the clothes that Alastair bought for me. And as much as I hate saying it, he does have pretty good taste in fashion. 

As I try to pull down the short hem of my black lace dress though, I’m not realizing he isn’t the best at guessing women’s sizes. Every time I pull my dress down so I cover half my thigh, the tiny spaghetti straps holding the dress up pull down farther to give an ample view of my chest. Fantastic. 

I make my way up the stairs and I just have to keep reminding myself that I’ll get to stab Stefan. When I reach the huge front door I let out a deep breath and knock on it with my shaking hand. 

Not even a moment later a blonde woman in a gold dress answers the door, “Can I help you?”

I stare at her confused, “Um, I’m here for a dinner party?”

The woman stares at me blankly and nods her head, “Of course. Right this way,” she says to me in a monotone voice, and I’ve concluded that she’s most likely been compelled.

The blonde woman leads me through the house and into a large room where Damon, Elijah, Klaus, and Not-Yoda are conversing. They’ve all noticed my arrival now but I just stare at Damon hoping he’ll take the lead on this one. 

“There’s my girl,” Damon loudly says as he hops up the steps to me and reaches out his arm for me to take, “I was wondering what was taking you so long.”

I shoot Damon a questioning look at his odd behavior but as I look at the other three men’s surprised faces I’m concluding that they didn’t know I was coming. 

“Elskan, I…,” Elijah stares at me as his eyes move quickly over me and I bite my lip in embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry for crashing your party,” I gesture towards the door, “I’m just going to leave.”

“Wait,” Elijah calls after me and I watch as he climbs the steps to where Damon and I are standing, “Please, join us.”

I look down at Elijah who has his hand raised for me to take, then to Damon who has a smirk on his face, then to Stefan who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, and then to Klaus. The hybrid is sitting in a chair closest to the wall, from his casual posture someone would think he’s in a good mood but as he raises a glass of red liquid to his lips, but as his dark blue eyes meet mine, I can see the dark fire burning underneath his surface. 

And that’s when I realize, Elijah may want me here, but his younger brother certainly doesn’t. 

  “Y/n?”

I look away from Klaus and back to Elijah who is looking at me expectantly. 

“Um, ya. If that’s alright with you,” I take my arm out of Damon’s and place my left hand into Elijah’s. He slightly tugs me away from Damon with a smile on his face. But as I come almost chest to chest with him his smile drops and dark looks cover his face. A sick feeling builds in my stomach as Elijah drops my hand and grabs my shoulder. I frown, in confusion, but when his thumb grazes my gunshot scar I tense up.

“What happened here,” Elijah’s usually light voice drops into something that makes me want to crawl into a ball and hide. When I look up at him though, I realize he wasn’t asking me, instead he was asking the other men in the room. 

Elijah’s hand hasn’t left its position on my shoulder as he glares at the three men in the room. 

“I suggest one of you answer me, now.”

“She was shot,” Damon answers for the other two men. 

Elijah’s thumb stops its grazing and his gaze goes from my scar to Damon. 

“Who did it?”

At Elijah’s harsh tone, Damon shoots me a look and I shrug. 

“It was an accident,” Damon tries to joke. 

Elijah doesn't seem to find it funny though as a low growl escapes him, making me flinch back. 

“Brother,” Klaus practically growls at his older brother. 

Elijah’s gaze quickly turns to me and his dark look drops as soon as he makes eye contact with me. 

“Elskan,” Elijah takes a step towards me and I take a step back towards Damon. 

The look of utter heartbreak on Elijah’s face makes something deep inside me break as he lowers his hand that is outstretched for me. 

“Can we just get this dinner over with,” Stefan interrupts us with his annoyed tone. 

I turn my gaze to the asshole but can still feel Elijah’s eyes on me. 

“That would be great,” Damon says and slowly gestures for me to go in front of him. 

I nod and start to walk towards the table when I realize there are only four chairs. 

“Oh.”

“Here let me, Elskan,” Elijah quickly says and goes to the edge of the room grabs a chair, and places it at the table. He stands behind it and gestures for me to sit down. I smile at him and nod in thanks. This seems to bring back his mood as his eyes lighten at my acknowledgment. 

After I sit down, Elijah seats himself in the chair to my right. I then look to my left and realize that Klaus is seated right beside me. 

A girl dressed in the same gold one as before places a plate and silverware in front of me but almost all of my attention is on Klaus. Who seems to not even care to recognize my existence. I mean why should I care though? Right?

—

“You lost your appetite. Eat,” Klaus Says to Stefan who is sitting directly across from us.

 Damon chastises his little brother, “I thought we agreed to leave the grumpy Stefan at home.”

I roll my eyes as I pick at the mashed potatoes on my plate. We’ve been sitting for maybe 5 minutes and yet Stefan has already found a way to ruin the night. 

Stefan gives his brother and Klaus a fake smile before picking at the food on his plate.

“That’s the spirit,” Klaus smirks. 

“Wine, Miss?”

I turn my shoulder to one of the waitresses who is holding out a bottle of wine. I shake my head.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink.”

The girl nods her head and then walks over to Klaus and offers him wine.

“You don’t drink?”

My attention turns to Elijah who is leaning towards me with an interested look on his face.

I shake my head, “I’m not 21.”

Elijah smiles at me, “I know that. But, if you wanted some, I’m sure no one here would tell the authorities.”

I look at the glass of wine in front of Klaus and a wave of nausea rolls through me, “No. I’m good with my water. Thanks,” I smile and hope he drops the subject. 

Thankfully Klaus loves hearing himself speak. 

“Isn’t this nice,” He asks us, “The five of us dining together. Such a treat. Is this what you had in mind when you pulled the dagger out of my brother?”

I let out a low breath and sip my water as I watch the men in front of me start their little war. 

“Well, I know what he felt about you, so I figured, the more…the merrier,” Damon smirks and winks at Elija, and I shake my head. This guy really needs to realize he can’t keep picking fights with men 10 times his age. 

“Well,” Klaus responds, “Elijah and I have had our share of quarrels over the centuries, but we always make it through.”

“Kind of like, uh, you and Rebekah, right,” Stefan joins in and I set down my water, “Where is she, by the way? Last I checked, she was still daggered because you were afraid to face her.”

“If you’re referring to the fact that Rebekah knows I killed our mother I’ve already come clean to Elijah.”

Klaus’ words have me glancing at Elijah. Although his face appears nonchalant I watch as his fingers tightly grip the glass he’s holding. It doesn’t take him but a moment to notice my staring and he shoots me a small smile. 

“Hey, Stef, remember when you killed Dad? Might want to dial down the judgment till dessert,” Damon remarks to his brother, and my eyebrows raise. 

“Oh, so hurting people you supposedly care about is something you’ve been doing for over a century now,” I smile snarkily at the vampire who glares at me, “And here I thought it was only something you did to your girlfriend, and friends.”

Stefan goes to say something but I clear my throat and raise a hand stopping him, “My apologies,” I place a hand to my chest, “I meant ex-girlfriend.”

I hear Klaus snort into his drink from beside me and I jolt when I feel his hand grip my thigh and squeeze it. 

“I fear I might’ve missed some things,” Elijah shoots me a look with a sly smile. 

Klaus still has his hand gripping my thigh so focusing is starting to become hard.

“Yes, you’ve missed my brother burning all the bridges he once had,” Damon responds and then takes a sip of his wine.

“Kind of like the bridge he tried driving me and his EX-girlfriend off of,” I respond casually and I feel Klaus squeeze my thigh again.

“You did what,” Elijah’s voice comes out low and I look over to see him glaring at Stefan, the latter who is trying his hardest not to make eye contact with the Original. 

“Ooookay. We’re here to make a deal, gentlemen. Not kill each other,” Damon tries to clear the air. 

“Might want to remind your brother that,” I bite out and match Elijah’s glare.

Damon shoots me a look and I roll my eyes. 

“We have a long evening ahead of us,” Damon continues, “Pace yourselves.”

—-

“Where is the lovely Elena tonight,” Elijah asks at the table and I glance at my phone hoping to get a message from anyone. But frown when I see only one text notification from Theo asking how to cook instant noodles. I don’t respond. 

“I don’t know. Ask Damon,” Stefan says and Klaus and I both laugh. 

“I’d say to ask your little girlfriend over here,” Damon points to me and I stare wide-eyed at him. I feel Klaus’ hand tighten around my thigh. 

“I’m sorry,” Klaus looks over to his brother, “you’ve missed so much. Ah, trouble in paradise.”

“One more word about Elena and this dinner is over,” Stefan gazes at everyone at the table and I roll my eyes.

“And here I thought you were melodramatic when you were off blood,” I stare blankly at the vampire across from me who stares back at me. 

“I never understood why Elena was friends with you,” Stefan responds.

“And what is that supposed to mean,” I lean forward and glare at him.

Stefan shrugs and leans back, “I just mean that all of her other friends aren’t fragile like you. Physically and emotionally. I mean you’ve had to realize that you’re always the last one to find out about things going on. It's because you’re nothing but a liability.”

I stare at Stefan and for a moment I’m right back to the scared little girl who would puke at the first sign of danger. Because he’s right. I am a liability. There’s nothing special about me. I’m just some weak human that no one wants around because they know I’ll just get hurt. Or throw up. 

I’m still sitting silent when I hear Elijah’s chair push backward. But before he can do anything Stefan is being dragged out of his chair by the next by Klaus. 

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear old friend,” Klaus brings Stefan up to his face as Klaus growls down to him, “If I catch you even looking in Y/n’s direction one more time tonight, coffin or no coffin, I will rip you apart. Limb by bloody limb, and feed your body parts to your brother,” Klaus grips Stefan’s throat tighter to the point where I think he’s going to kill him, “Have I made myself clear?”

I watch in shock, along with Elijah and Damon who appear to be the same as Stefan nods to Klaus. 

“Words, Stefan,” Klaus growls.

“I won’t look at her,” Stefan chokes out.

In a second Stefan is being dropped to the ground and Klaus is walking back over to his seat as if nothing happened. 

“Perfect,” Klaus smirks, “Shall we continue?”

I stare wide-eyed at the hybrid next to me, but he doesn’t look over at me.

I look over to Elijah who sits back in his seat, but his gaze is on his brother. A look I can’t quite distinguish is on his face. 

“Alright…let’s keep Elena and Y/n, in the “Do Not Discuss” pile,” Damon says. 

The other men nod their heads but a chuckle from Klaus has me sighing. 

“It’s just the allure of the Petrova Doppelganger is still so strong,” Klaus says and a wave of jealously washes over me. 

“What do you say, brother? Should we tell them about Tatia,” Klaus turns to his brother who lets out a sigh. 

Elijah shakes his head, “Now why should we discuss matters long since resolved?”

I furrow my brows at Elijah’s comment.

“Well, given their shared affection for both Elena and Katerina I think our guests might be curious to learn about the originator of the Petrova line.’’

I take a long sip of my water and start to regret not getting that glass of wine when I had the chance.

“Well, we’re not going anywhere Elijah. Please, do tell,” Damon says.

“Please, don’t,” I whisper under my breath and feel Klaus’ hand squeeze my thigh again. 

“When our family first settled here there was a girl named Tatia. She was an exquisite beauty. Every boy of age desired to be her suitor. Even though she’d had a child by another man. And none loved her more than Niklaus,” Elijah says, and that wave of jealousy from before builds. 

“Oh, I’d say there was one who loved her at least as much,” Klaus says thoughtfully and I roll my shoulders in annoyance. 

“Wait a minute,” Stefan cuts in, “you both loved the same girl?”

I place my right hand on my thigh and tighten it into a fist as I stare at Stefan. I’m about to break skin when a hand pulls my fingers apart and intertwines its fingers with my own. 

I look up at Elijah who is already staring at me with a worried look. 

I have one left thigh being grabbed by Klaus and my right hand intertwined with Elijah. What the actual fuck is going on right now?

Elijah squeezes my hand before continuing, “Our mother was a very powerful witch. She sought to end our feud with Tatia and so she took her. And Klaus and I would later learn that it was Tatia’s blood that we consumed in the wine on the night where our mother performed the spell which turned us into vampires.”

I release a small gasp and squeeze Elijah’s hand in comfort. What kind of mother would do that to her children?

“Tatia wouldn’t make a decision between the two of us so for a time, Niklaus and I grew estranged. Harsh words were traded. We even came to blows, didn’t we, brother?”

“But in the end, we recognized the sacred bond of family,” Klaus responds.

“Family above…all,” Elijah finishes.

Each brother uses their free hand to cheer their drinks together, and at the same time, I feel Klaus tighten his hold on my thigh and Elijah squeezes my hand. 

What the fuck.

—- 

“So why don’t we move this evening along and discuss the terms of this proposal,” Elijah asks the Salvawhore brothers.

“Well,” Damon starts, “It’s very simple. Klaus gets his coffins back. In exchange, he and the Original extended family leave Mystic Falls forever. Me, Stefan, Elena, and Pukey, live happily ever after…no grudges.”

At the thought of never seeing Elijah…or Klaus again a weird feeling washes through me. 

“Most of the deal sounds fair, brother,” Elijah says. 

“I don’t think you understand,” Klaus responds, “Elena’s Doppelganger blood ensures that I will always have more hybrids to fight those that oppose me. I will never leave her behind.”

Klaus stands up, and I can finally release a breath as his warm hand is gone from my thigh.

“Let’s say I do leave her here under your protection, what then? How long before one of you turns her into a vampire? Or worse, how long before she dies caught between your feuding, you see each one of you truly believes that you’re the one that can protect her. And that is simply a delusion. Gentlemen…the worst thing for Elena Gilbert is…the two of you.”

I try not to agree with Klaus’ words but he’s kind of right.

“I’m gonna get some air,” Damon says and gets up from the table. 

Elijah squeezes my hand before standing up, “Let me deal with this,” He says before following Damon. Which I find quite odd. 

“All this talk has made me thirsty,” Klaus says as he leans on the top of his chair. 

“What do you say, Stefan,” Klaus gestures to one of the servers, “Can I interest you in a little after-dinner drink?”

Within in split second Klaus is biting into the poor woman’s neck and I flinch backward. I quickly stand up from my chair and away from Klaus. I watch in horror as Klaus drains the young woman.

“Klaus, stop! You’re going to kill her,” I try to beg him but he doesn’t spare me a glance as he drops the poor girl's body down on the ground. I rush over to her to check for a pulse but feel tears rush to my eyes when I feel nothing. 

“Oh come on, Princess,” I feel Klaus touch my shoulder and I flinch away from him. Something shifts in his face at my movement but quickly morphs back into his sarcastic smirk, “Get off the floor, it’s dirty. You’ll ruin the pretty dress of yours.”

“Don’t touch me,” I look up at him and growl.

“Well, you two will make a happy couple,” Stefan remarks as he stands up from his chair.

Klaus’ attention goes from me to Stefan as he glares at him.

“I guess the only reason agreed to this evening, Klaus is to drive a wedge between me and my brother,” Stefan says as he walks over to Klaus. 

I wipe the hair away from the poor girl’s face and then stand up, distancing myself from the two men. 

“Oh no, you’re doing that well enough on your own. Because of Elena, you’re going to lose your brother and you’ll only have yourself to blame,” Klaus says.

“What do you say, Klaus? It’s time for you to put something on the table. We’ve made our offer, now you counter” Damon enters the room again followed by Elijah. The latter’s attention goes to me and a worried expression comes over his face as he rushes over to me. 

Elijah raises his hands and wipes away tears from my face, “What happened? Are you hurt?”

I don’t say anything as I look over at the dead girl on the floor. I hear Elijah take a deep sigh as he looks at her and then he gestures to someone behind us. Right after two waiters walk over to her body and pick her up off the floor.

I watch wordlessly as they take her lifeless body out of the room. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Elskan. My brother shouldn’t have done that in front of you.”

“He shouldn’t have done it at all,” I bite out quietly. 

“It’s ironic,” Stefan’s voice pulls all of our attention as he gestures to Klaus and then Elijah, “You talk about how Damon and I are causing a rift between ourselves because of Elena when you and Elijah are clearly doing the same.”

I frown as Stefan looks over to Klaus and then over to me and Elijah. I frown in confusion.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Stefan. Once again your bloodlust has made you irrational,” Klaus responds sarcastically but his voice is deeper than before and I feel Elijah pull me behind him. 

“Don’t play dumb Klaus,” Stefan smirks snarkily at the Orignal, “I know what she is to you. And from the way Elijah hangs onto every word she says as if she’s the only thing in this world that exists to him, I’m going to take a wild guess and say she’s the same thing to him. So tell me, which of us is truly going to be torn away from our brother?”

I stared confused at the men in front of me.

“Elijah, what is he talking about?”

I walk next to Elijah but he won’t look down at me, “It’s nothing, Y/n. Ignore him. Mr. Salvatore, don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink tonight?”

At Elijah’s equally dark tone, I get even more confused. 

“Will someone just tell me what the hell is going on?!”

Stefan finally looks over to me and I see Elijah start to move in front of me again but I push him back, “Don’t.”

“Mr. Salvatore if you continue, I will rip your head from your shoulders,” Elijah threatens Stefan. 

“Let’s go back to the negotiating shall we,” Klaus interrupts and I shoot him a glare.

“Fuck no! I swear to god if someone doesn't start giving me answers soon I’m going to kill myself in front of you all right now to change the trajectories of ALL your lives,” I yell out and move towards the table and grab a knife. Shit. Not a knife, a spoon.

“Stefan,” I turn and glare at the vampire who watches me with a raised eyebrow, “Spill it.”

“Stefan if you do I swear to-” Klaus begins and I hold the spoon up to my neck and glare at him. He just looks at me like I’m a nuisance. 

“Shut it, dog!”

“Brother, maybe this is something that should be held off for another time,” Damon chimes in from the background.

“You shut it too, Manwhore,” I glare at Damon who raises his hands in surrender. 

“Elskan,” Elijah says and I look over to see him walking towards me and I glare at him, “Let us finish dinner, and then I give you my word that we will discuss this.”

I shake my head at his words, “No. You’ll just come up with another excuse or you’ll say again that I can’t know just yet. And I’m sick of it! I’m not some liability, compared to what everyone thinks! I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

Elijah sends me a sad look that pisses me off, “I know, Y/n. No more of that, I promise you.”

I stare at him for a moment before turning towards Klaus who is glaring at his older brother, “Brother, you can’t be serious?!”

“Niklaus she deserves to know,” Elijah says and Klaus opens his mouth to begin to argue.

“Screw this,” I hear Stefan say, “Y/n, you’re their soulmate. Which is a supernatural phenomenon that only happens to a few supernaturals.”

“Fuck,” I hear Elijah mutter under his breath.

I loud growl escapes Klaus as he rushes over to Stefan and grabs him by the throat. 

“I’m sorry, what,” I release a laugh at the absurdity that is that answer. 

All the men turn to look at me and I place the spoon back on the table. 

“That’s a ridiculous answer, Stefan, thanks for the laugh but now the adults are talking,” I turn back to Elijah, “So you’ll tell me after dinner?”

Elijah stands there silently, as he just blinks at me with his mouth slightly open. 

I raise an eyebrow at him and then turn to Klaus, “What’s wrong with him?”

Klaus drops Stefan and then looks at Elijah and then at me. He opens his mouth and then closes it again.

“How about we discuss this after dinner,” Klaus asks and I sigh but nod my head. 

“If you don’t keep your word, I’m daggering you myself,” I turn back and glare at Elijah who blinks at me again. 

“Alright then,” Klaus starts, “I offer Elena’s future happiness. You see what she needs right now is to be rid of you lot and to fall in love with a human. Maybe that nice football player. You know the blonde one.”

“Matt Donovan? Really,” Damon asks disgustedly. 

“Ya, why not? They’ll marry, live a long fruitful life and pop out a perfect family.”

“And continue the Petrova bloodline,” Stefan concludes, “Every few hundred years you’ll have a new Doppelganger to drain and never run out of hybrids, right, Klaus?”

“Consider it a small return on my investment in her well-being. See, after you hand me back the coffin. I’ll ensure her safety for the rest of her natural life. You know it's what’s best for her. So… What do you say, Stefan,” Klaus walks over to the younger vampire, “Do we have a deal?”

Stefan meets Klaus in the middle and goes to shake Klaus’ hand.

“Nice try, Klaus. But no deal,” Stefan says, and within a second Klaus is breaking Stefan���s hand and legs. And then brings his hand to the flames of the fireplace. 

Damon begins to run to help his brother but Elijah easily grabs him by the throat and holds him to the wall. All I do though I stand by the table and drink my water. 

“Now bring me my coffin before I burn him alive,” Klaus says to Damon who finally relents. 

“Go with him, brother. You keep him honest. When you return I will make good on my promise to you and I will hand over our family,” Klaus says to Elijah who gives me a quick glance before following behind Damon.

With a sigh, I sit down at the table again sip my water, and pick at the leftover corn. Behind me, Klaus is still threatening and burning Stefan but I honestly don’t give a damn. He needs to be brought down a peg. Wait…

“Klaus,” I turn in my chair and the hybrid looks over to me.

“What is it, love? I’m kind of in the middle of something here,” He gestures to Stefan and I shrug. 

“While you’ve got him down there,” I stand up and sneakily grab the carving knife off the table, “Damon promised me I could have something if I came tonight. And since he; 's currently gone I was hoping you could help me,” I send him a sickly sweet smile and something shifts in his face and his smile matches mine.

“I don’t see why I can’t,” Klaus smirks and I practically skip over to the two men. 

When I get in front of Stefan who looks up at me with a glare, I lean down to meet eye level with him. At the same time, I see Klaus tighten his hold on Stefan. I look up at the hybrid but he’s already watching me with an intense gaze. 

“I thought we were friends Stefan. I told you things about myself that I don’t tell many people. And you know what you did,” I fake a frown and lean closer into the vampire, “You threatened my little brother and tried to drown me. So fuck you,” Right when I say the last words I take the knife that is in my hands and plunge it into Stefan’s stomach. 

Stefan drops to the ground in pain and Klaus lets him. That red-hot anger I felt those weeks ago returns as I watch Stefan try to pry the bloody knife out of his stomach. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to a woman more, in my entire life, Astin Min.”

Klaus’ words shock me out of my trance and I look up to see him staring down at me with an undistinguishable look. 

Klaus raises his hand and wipes a finger across my cheek. When he brings his finger back the tip of it is covered in blood, Stefan’s blood. 

I watch almost entranced as Klaus locks eyes with me as he brings his finger to his lips and sucks the blood off his finger. 

“What’s going on here,” Elijah’s voice has me quickly stepping away from both of the men.

Elijah’s eyes trail over me and stop at my hands which I can see now are covered in blood. 

“Damon said I could do it,” I quickly point at the vampire standing next to him who shoots me a glare. 

“Why haven’t you left,” Klaus asks his brother as a waitress enters the room carrying a serving tray. 

Elijah’s narrowed eyes leave mine to move to his brother, “Well, where are your manners, brother? You forgot dessert?”

I hope it’s a strawberry shortcake!

Elijah rips a blanket off of the tray to reveal two daggers. Damnit. 

“What have you done,” Klaus takes a step back. 

“What have you done,” Elijaah retorts, “See, I’ve learned not to trust your vulgar promises, Klaus. We’re doing this on my terms now.”

Why was that kind of attractive? No, Y/n. Stop it!

All of a sudden a young attractive man enters the room behind Elijah and Klaus.

“Kol,” Klaus exclaims.

“Long time, brother,” “Kol” Responds.

Klaus backs away shaking his head and the scared look on his face makes me feel sick. Klaus goes to escape but a man with long brown hair stops him.

“Finn, don’t!”

“Finn” stabs Klaus right in his hand and I take a step forward. Within a second though my view is being blocked by Elijah. 

“Stay back,” Elijah softly whispers to me and reaches a hand behind him for me to take. I look at my shaking bloody hand and intertwine it with his. 

Klaus speeds towards the other exit but Rebekah comes into view. 

“Rebekah,” Klaus exclaims right when his sister stabs him in the stomach. 

“I can’t watch,” I lean into Elijah and he pulls me into him hiding my face into his neck.

“This is for our mother,” I hear Rebekah say. 

“You’re free to go,” Elijah's chest rumbles as he speaks. I look up at him and he glances down at me and uses his hand to brush away the hair on my face. 

“You can stay or leave,” He whispers down to me and I turn to see everyone in the room staring at me now. 

“Ah, Elijah! You’ve finally met your soulmate,” Kol smirks as he takes a step towards us and Elijah lets out a low growl, “Congrats brother.”

At Kol’s words, I frown, “Elijah? What is he talking about?”

“Kol, you daft idiot,” Rebekah screeches, “She doesn’t know she’s Nik’s soulmate yet!”

“Nik’s soulmate? No, she’s quite clearly Elijah’s,” Kol gestures to how Elijah is holding on to me. 

Rebekah, Kol, and the other sibling, Finn, all stare at me with confused looks on their faces before Kol breaks out into a loud laugh. 

“Bloody hell! You poor girl,” Kol stares wide-eyed at me and then at Elijah and Klaus, the latter who watches his younger brother with a glare, “You got sacked with both of them. Didn’t you?”

I stare at the young man in front of me and can start to feel myself shake, “Elijah what’s happening?”

“I’ll explain everything, Elskan. Let the Salvatores take you home and I swear to you I will explain it all,” Elijah says and I release a shaky breath as I nod at his words.

Elijah presses a kiss to my temple before nodding to Damon, who quickly comes and grabs my upper arm. 

“Mr. Salvatore, I promise you if anything happens to her while in your care…”

Damon quickly nods his head, “I got it. Come on, Pukey. Let’s go home.”

The last thing I see before I exit the room is the pain-stricken eyes of the Original hybrid.

[lwyikas]

Art and Passion ft Kuroo Tetsurou

" There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people"

“Can you not look while i write?You’re distracting me”

“Rejected” he grinned while watching you take notes in your notebook. You don’t even remember if you offered him to come museum with you, but here. At least some of his perspective on works of art helps.He bends down to look at what you wrote and grimaces.

“I have endless respect for you being an art enthusiast but if people who keep history wrote like you, a third of history would not reach future generations.”He didn’t even try to suppress his giggle while commenting on your article with a serious and wise, rather convulsive manner.He adores nerve in your eyes and frowning, oh you probably want to put the notebook on his head.

“It has been proven that smart people write awful”okay maybe he’s right,But you won’t entertain him more by accepting this.

“By whom?”

“Your mo-“your little aggressive sentence was not complete with he pulling you under his arms and imprisoning you in his chest.

“I’d rather you express your love for me in a more docile way, and for God’s sake, why didn’t you complete this earlier?will we stay here until midnight?

“I didn’t bring you here by force, you can go if you’re bored”You whined while saving yourself from his arms and fixing your hair.

“No it’s late,maybe thieves will come to steal Mona Lisa after I leave? I have to be here to save my sweetie”

“You are quite a gentleman, but original Mona Lisa is in Paris”but the important one is thought, admirable.You’re gazing at him,He shakes his foot Non-stop, sighs every five minutes. You’re bored too, we need to add some color.

“We will have diputation with you about Van Gough, i need your attractive ideas follow me” your raise tone get his attention.He offers you an arm. “Care to join me ma'am?”

Your eyes are gleaming as you giving him cheering smile. “It would be my pleasure.”As you two were walking, crowd around museum was dwindling, it was impossible not to notice young girls glances at him around. You tightened grip on his arm and you couldn’t help but stealing glances from him.He’s so tall and handsome ass hell. Even if his black hair has a weird style ,it didn’t make this man less attractive, even a little bit. We won’t even talk about his hazel eyes. Be sure that it won’t be difficult to find adore in those eyes that always on you and soften with you every moment.He notices your gaze and a slight pinkness appears on his cheeks. But of course he will never give you this opportunity.

“I think this is the painting you’re talking about” He's so bad, but he does it so well. When you’re looking for something in your bag, he takes out his phone and checks the clock. 9:45. After training, he was still tired and really he wants just his bed and rest. And he was bored like shit. But he enjoys spend time with you, he wouldn’t wait 2 hours to examine ancient vases or old paintings for anyone else except you in world when he is that tired. He gets rid of his thoughts with small “yay”sound coming from you.You probably found what you were looking for.

“Couldn’t you look at these paintings on google?”

“Nooo,look there are more detailed articles about its history below, and if I did it at home, i would probably be bored, it’s fun to romance things” He smiled sincerity and scratch his arms over his head.”As you wish goody goody”

“Alright,this is ‘cafe terrace at night’, Vincent van Gogh’s painting with oil on canvas in 1888. Van Gogh used theme of the starry sky for the first time in this. Although the work, in which the night view of cafe is reflected, is generally dominated by dark colors, no shade of black color was used in the drawing.Instead, with preferred warm colors and depth of perspective, this painting is unusual for Van Gogh’s works.”You explained with excitement.

“Yes, when i look, i can definitely feel emotions.” It’s nice painting, but mixed colors, metaphors and so on, he can’t say he gets messages right.

“Really?”

“No”

“What do you see when you look at it?”

He turns back to painting and examines it.“Tables, peoples, buildings, and stars.I guess i liked starts more.The colors catch my eye, but I can’t say much in terms of emotion, it’s a peaceful picture.”he stated.

“Such wise words,you must be a work interpreter”

“I’m trying my best!”

“But you got a point, intense and contrasting shades of bright yellows and dark blue not only convey a sense of harmony, but also reflect the emotional state of the artist. The azure sky, illuminated by stars, acts as a contrast to the warm yellows of the cafe. The side-by-side collar of colors creates a dynamic tension between light and dark, reflecting the emotional complexity that often characterizes.”

“You’re very attractive when you speak wisely”

“Tetsu”

“Fine fine, there are no colors that are completely in harmony with each other, even if it took my eye at first, after what you said, it seems more compatible to me in this way. If contrasting colors were used elsewhere, it would probably be “help”, but this painting is in harmony, it is not boring and overwhelming.”He crossed his arms and nodded jokingly while explaining.

“So you’re saying when things are concordant and monotonous with each other overwhelm you?”

“Maybe,calmness and peace are good, but above all, the passion of contrasts gets me in one move.”You stopped for a second and keep going take notes of what he said.

“I would rather die of passion than boredom”

This is no longer about the painting. You can get from his gazes and tone . You both stand in silence but he can hear a lot in silence.You two look at art but there are completely different thoughts in both minds. His rough hand rubs slowly to yours.But you both won’t make a move for more.He tries not to show it, but his ears are pink.

“We can go now”

“Ha?”

“I did complete writing”You put your notebook to bag and he helped you wear your jacket.You always say that you could wear yourself , but he always tell shut up.It’s a small thing he enjoys in his own way, so you don’t find it necessary to oppose too much.

When you two out cold air hits your face. It’s already dark. God, how many hours have you been there? But the hours didn’t seem too long to you. You don’t think you’ll get a low grade from your work, but it doesn’t matter if you take it, you don’t change these memories with him for anything.

“Its awful that you finished too early, we hadn’t yet come to the part where I read love poems to you”You wouldn’t exchange his antics for anything.

“You have to rest then you can pour your love for me into serenades”

“Definitely i will”he grins and pulls you closer.Kisses your temple.You’re glad he didn’t see blushing on your cheeks or you thought he didn’t.You two walking towards bus stop.

Hand in hand.

[mikareo]

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ A LOVE LETTER TO: THE LOUVRE ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀呪術廻船; geto suguru x fem reader ⠀ ꒰ . . org. writing repost ꒱ . . . word count; 12.9k

⊹ ⠀⠀ for as long as he can remember, geto's world has been black and white - giving him no reason to appreciate his mother’s profession as an artist and the beauties that art can provide. however, an accidental meeting with you gives him reason to doubt his former beliefs - proving to him that there may be true beauty in a world that’s void of everything bright, that beauty being the sunshine that you provide. 

contains; colorblind!geto, painter!reader, geto's mom is reader’s art mentor, he hates art, strangers to friends to lovers, major crushing from both sides, slow burn but also not slow burn, swearing, fluff, reader acts like she’s on an adrenaline rush 24/7, jealousy, angst, explosive arguments, lowkey toxic, extremely inaccurate depictions of colorblindness!!, geto sucks at flirting author's note; repost of a bllk fic i have, titled 'rationalism'. if there are any plot errors pls let me know,, the original fic is still posted, i just wanted this up for jjk too,, enjoy!

Whenever the sun meets its peak at the high dawning point in the sky is when Suguru knows it's a perfectly acceptable time to visit his oh-so-beloved mother. If he could, he would spend every waking moment with her - he’s a momma’s boy through and through - not only because she birthed him and taught him everything he knows, but because she’s kind and good. She’s also one of - scratch that - she’s the only person he can stand to be around for more than twenty four hours - and he takes great pride in having such a wonderful woman in his life.

However, despite how dearly he holds his mother to his heart, the issue with visiting her at this time of day is that she’s in her art studio. A place he loathes more than having to wear wet socks with sneakers. While it’s a beautiful space, with high wooden beams and floor to ceiling windows, he finds himself nauseous at the mere sight of the countless tubes of oil and acrylic paints. It’s not that the smell or colors are distasteful, it’s the fact that no matter how hard he squints and struggles, he cannot fathom what the simple color red looks like.

Complete black and white color blindness isn’t a life threatening condition in the slightest, but for Suguru, it feels as if he’s being stabbed through the sternum at any notion of the changing leaves or colorful streaks of light across the sun-setting sky.

He doesn’t hate his mother for being an artist, he simply hates the art itself.

And he especially hates pieces of art like the one sitting before him, now. With the blobs of squares and triangles against the supposedly white canvas, sitting perky on the easel as if to mock him - he decides to reach his hand out - and remind himself how emotionally detached acrylic paints make him feel. It’s wet, he observes, rubbing his thumb and pointer finger together to mix the possibly different hues. Suguru hopes he didn’t ruin the artist’s painting in any way, he wouldn’t know if he’d accidentally smeared shading or contrasting primaries - but surely the artist could fix it in a jiffy.

“Do you like it?”

Well, that certainly isn’t his mother’s voice.

“I tried using cooler tones in the corner here, and then migrated towards warmth in the lower portion.” You’re beside him now, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his position, and completely ignoring his personal space - all while he’s never met you before this day. Your finger is extended, pointing towards the artistic decisions you’re elaborating on that, in all honesty, he doesn’t give two shits about. “I’m thinking about sketching some paper cranes on top of it all, I want it to represent the change of seasons.”

“What do you think?”

You’re staring at him now, bright eyes shining with curiosity. Suguru is at a loss for words, mostly due to your unannounced appearance in the studio, but also because you’re possibly the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on - which is shocking, considering the sight of thick paint smudged against a person’s face typically sends him running the opposite direction. He’s never felt an immediate connection to the women of his past - however you, a strange girl who resembles a dog waiting for its treat, has his heart beating at twice the rate.

“I like this shape.” Suguru purses his lips into a straight line, never having felt so awkward in his whole life. “This square is nice, too.”

You look utterly unimpressed with his evaluation. Your nose is scrunched in distaste and the fold beneath your right eye seems to be twitching in disapproval for your own artwork. “That’s all that you like?” You step ever so slightly closer to him, chin tilted up to meet his gaze, before retreating quickly and coddling your painting. “Perhaps I overestimated my color palette. I really thought it would be the outstanding moment of this piece, but I guess I could rework it if the shapes are all that matter—”

“Did you touch my painting?”

Oh boy, he’s in for it now.

A nervous laugh leaves his mouth, embarrassing him further as he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck in an attempt to look casual, only for you to grab his wrist out of thin air. “Oh my god, you did!” Your mouth is agape, inspecting his tattered skin in shock - yet somehow he knows that you aren’t truly upset with him - you don't seem like that kind of person. “Did you not realize that you’ve got scarlet red all over your palms?”

Suguru’s mind is blank, his ability to form coherent sentences is gone, and he can only muster up the cheesiest, most terribly dreadful joke that he’s said in the twenty three years he’s been alive.

“I guess you caught me red handed?”

There’s a moment of silence, with the two of you displaying the most aloof expressions either of you have ever made, until your face lights up with laughter. He doesn’t understand what could possibly be so funny - his joke was awful - but the sound of your contagious fits of giggles make his heart feel a little bit warmer in a place that he commonly feels suffocated in. For the first time, the studio gives him a sense of comfort rather than distress - and he knows it's because he’s developing a very clear crush on the pretty girl beside him. 

You’re hysterical, resembling that of insanity while Suguru is simply stuck in time. He can’t tell if he should be steadying you before you trip over your own feet or if he should simply take his leave and forget this day ever happened. 

“I don’t mean to be rude,” he begins, watching you wipe a tear of laughter from the crinkle of your right eye, “but why are you here? Do you have an appointment, because I could’ve sworn there weren’t any other people that were allowed in the studio at this hour—”

“Oh, I do know you!” The volume of your voice just seems to get louder and louder. “You must be Miss Geto’s son! She always mentions how lovely her little boy is, I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you! Though, I expected you to be like six or seven, not my age. She should’ve mentioned that you were handsome, not cute - she really chose every adjective other than the ones that wouldn’t make you sound like a primary schooler.”

Does she ever stop talking? Suguru doesn’t think he’s ever heard another person ramble on-and-on like you do. Normally he’d have ended the conversation by now, walked away without a second thought of whether he acted rude or not, but he knows that his mother would strangle him if he was to blatantly disregard her current favorite student. The student that she loves telling him stories about at the dinner table every Sunday night as he’s just trying to eat his fingerling potatoes in peace.

The same student who he’s somehow enjoying talking to - though it’s mostly just you talking to his blank face - and is causing a soft yellow blush to form on his cheeks. He doesn’t actually know if yellow is the color related to blushing, but he thinks he’s read it somewhere before. 

“Anyways, to answer your question—”

Suguru feels like he’d asked you hours ago.

“—I’d walked all the way to the train station and realized I’d forgotten my wallet here - which is strange because normally I never forget anything. I’m a very organized person—”

Yeah, he doesn’t believe that. 

“—and then I had to run all the way back here—”

Your shoes are scuffed. You definitely tripped on the way.

“—where I accidentally ran into a stroller…poor baby—”

Yep. Tripped.

“—which led me to you!”

You’re smiling now and Suguru doesn’t think he’s seen so many teeth shining at him in all of his life. God, do you ever run out of energy? No matter, he knows exactly where your missing item is. The anonymous wallet had been the first thing his eyes had grazed over when striding towards your artwork - good thing it’s only an arm’s reach away.

He snatches the wallet from the art easel and is pleasantly surprised by the quality of the possibly monochromatic leather. The clasp is simple, requiring just one twist before the contents of your identity are laid out before him. “Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Suguru recites the name written on your license and holds the items out to you, to which you reach out, eager to reunite with your belongings. However, at the last second he waves it in the air - away from your dying fingertips - and clicks his tongue two times. “Try not to lose it again. It’s a luxury brand, isn’t it? I like the black color.”

“Black?” Shit. The tilt of confusion your head makes indicates that your wallet is not, in fact, black. “I’m either stupid or color blind, but this is red.”

Before Suguru can respond, he’s saved by the bell. Well, technically his savior isn’t an actual bell, but you get the gist. “Miss Geto!” Thank god she’s finally here to distract you. He’s been fighting to maintain his pride throughout your entire interaction. “I made an extra trip to the studio and ran into your son, here! You weren’t lying when you said he’s a little quiet - honestly, I feel like I’ve been talking to myself this whole time.”

You quite literally have been doing that very thing for the past ten minutes. 

“Oh, Suguru! Have you been acting rude?” His mother’s expression is tense, stricter than the time he ‘accidentally’ took her (grey?) Kia Soul on a joyride that one weekend he and Satoru decided to go on a midnight run to the department store. “Please don’t mind him at all, dear. You see, he doesn’t exactly get out much - his social skills might be a little underdeveloped.”

She can’t actually be saying this right now. This is exactly why he hasn’t had a girlfriend in months - his mother embarrasses him in front of every pretty girl they come across in the first two minutes of saying ‘hello’. It isn’t that Suguru is a terrible flirt - which he is, but he likes to deny it - it’s that he loves his mother so much that he can’t bear to tell her that her attempts at ‘hooking him up’ are always bound to fail. 

However, you don’t appear to be phased by her words. If anything, you’re actually pleased by the sound of him being socially impaired. 

“That’s actually perfect!”

What.

The.

Fuck?

“He can be my portrait model!” You’re still talking. Please, for the love of God, stop talking. “You know how I’ve been trying to become better skilled in the emotional aspect of my paintings, he could definitely help me out by showing anxiety and embarrassment - and you’ve been telling me it’s about time that I found myself a model.”

The endless trail of words that continue to string from your mouth seem to reach their end. Rather than speaking in spitfire, you’re now crazily staring at Suguru, himself. Both of your fists are clenched together in a pleading hold and he doesn’t think that you’ve blinked since the start of your conversational rampage - but despite the absurdity of your proclamation, he believes you have good intentions. There really is no reason to deny the request - after all, he’d be helping out his mother in the process, she does love having successful students - but he just can’t imagine himself spending any more time in the dreadfully grey studio than he already does. 

“I don’t think that would be a very good idea.” His mother catches your words before he has a chance to give you his own oral letter of rejection. “Suguru’s never been one for art.”

“Oh.”

All you have to say is ‘oh’? 

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you continue. The expression on your face is suddenly stern. Has he offended you in some way by saying no? “I’ll figure something else out, Miss Geto. I apologize if I overstepped.”

You’re bowing your head before him now, and Suguru is shell shocked. His first impression of you was undoubtedly a dud, considering how you actually do seem to have a rational bone in your body despite the hyperactivity you displayed just moments before. While he’s mustering up a response, you lift your eyes - lashes fluttering like upwards brush strokes on a canvas - and send a small smile his way. It’s as if you’re silently apologizing to him for the undivided attention you tormented him with, but he doesn’t want you to apologize. 

He just doesn’t know how to say that he actually liked your personality. 

God, he’s so bad at flirting. 

“Thanks for finding my wallet, though.” Your fingers are suddenly touching his, momentarily grazing against his skin as you pluck your wallet from his hands. There’s no chance that you haven’t noticed the rising heat that’s currently warming the blossoms of his cheeks, and he hopes that you find it endearing. While he isn’t great with words, he likes to think that he may be at least a little bit cute. His mother always calls him a ‘cutie’ - which he appreciates, but it’s also so degrading for someone of his age. “Maybe I’ll be forgetful more often, now.”

He hopes you’ll start being more forgetful, too.

You’ve left your entire bag this time. 

He can’t tell if you’re trying to be subtle and coy with the budding feelings that’re growing between the two of you, and you’re just as awful at flirting as he is - or if you’ve just given up on leaving small signs of attraction. Honestly, in the past few weeks of you leaving paintbrushes and lanyards in the studio, he’d assumed it was all naturally an accident. This, though? How do you expect him to believe that you left your entire satchel in the studio? Sure, you can be a little dense, but not that dense. 

It’s obvious that you’ve begun to lose track of your belongings for the simple reason that you enjoy partaking in the awkward exchange of items when you ‘hastily’ return to the empty renovated greenhouse and get to act surprised to see him standing there with his arms full of things with your name written all over them. In fact, this instance has happened so often that Suguru is beginning to believe that he actually enjoys it, too. 

Sometimes he thinks that maybe you should just write your name on him to speed up this dreadful ‘will they, won’t they’ process that you’ve been pacing together. 

He likes you. He really really likes you, and you both know it.

You’d picked up on his feelings from the second time you met - when he willingly stayed behind in the studio for an extra two hours just to hear you ramble about the difference between heavy and soft body acrylic paints. There was something about the way you grinned at him. How your chin would angle upwards to his height in order to have a proper conversation. How you weren’t afraid to say anything and everything that was on your sporadic mind. How your eyes would sparkle at the dedicated eye contact he was making - letting you know that he was hanging on to every word that left your lips (which he just recently found out are pink - and boy does he wish to know what that undoubtedly lovely color looks like against your skin). 

He hates to compare you to a painting - which he still finds a positively dreadful blob of nothingness - but to him, you are one. You’re a captivating piece of art hanging on the walls of the nationally acclaimed museum in his mind. 

A captivating piece of art whose art of subtlety is extremely lacking, considering that your phone number is quite literally painted on the largest white canvas your easel can hold, in bold lettering that he would have to be visually blind to miss, plastered behind the hiding place of your bag.

‘P.S. It's written in red paint. I know you have a thing for red.”

As much as he likes you, you can be such a pain in his ass. The bane of his existence, if you will. 

It pains him to notice how he hadn’t thought twice about typing the digits into his text bar, smiling to himself at the sight of your make-shift contact with the horrid selfie you’d taken on his phone to be your future contact picture. Your hair is an utter mess, with flecks of paint scattered across your hairline - which, to be honest, look like dandruff to him with their lack of vivid color, but he told you that they resemble snowflakes. He lied - but what you don’t know doesn’t hurt you. 

Without hesitating, he types a singular ‘hey’ before backtracking. What if you don’t know that it’s him texting you? What if you think that it’s a random stranger who just so happened to be in the art studio and thought to add your contact information to their phone? He better be more clear. 

‘Hello. You know me.’

Perfect. 

In less than a split second, you respond. He can feel his nerves itching at the sight of the grey text bubble popping in and out of view. Suguru can’t even remember the last time his heart beat so fast. Perhaps when he was standing in front of his secondary school health classroom and he accidentally mistook a photo of the urinary system with the ovaries during a speech about the female menstrual cycle? The stream of liquid projected against the white board was in fact not what he thought it was (how was he supposed to see the difference between red and yellow?), which turned into a horribly disgusting presentation that Satoru still bothers him about to this day. That was dreadful - but this is definitely equally as dreadful, if not more.

‘Stalker much?’ Huh? ‘Hi though, Suguru. That text was very…you.’

‘You added my number pretty quickly.’ Man, you text really fast. ‘You just couldn’t resist me, could you?’

He doesn’t know what to say back. It’s as if his mind has been scraped raw of all romantic material that one would usually use in this situation - the situation in which an unbelievably pretty girl is talking to him through a phone screen. Suguru is completely frozen in place, time, and thought. The only part of him that isn’t paralyzed is the hole in his chest that is beginning to be thawed by you. His frozen heart of past relationships has found its fire - and oh does it burn for you. 

“Cat got your tongue?”

Where the fuck did you come from?

Swiveling on his heel, he turns to face your approaching figure. Your footsteps are lighter than air, likely being the reason as to how you managed to stealthily sneak in so quietly while he had been distracted with his phone. The light denim jeans that cover you from waist to ankles are perhaps his favorite pair you own. You’ve painted on them over time, sketching out a garden of patterns that don’t require color to appreciate. Your artistic ability is uncanny - he can’t deny the fact that you’re incredibly skilled - and he believes that you should be given an award for making ‘art’s number one hater’ a growing fan. 

“You left your bag.” No shit, Captain Obvious. “Do you want it back?”

He’s so bad at this. 

You skip towards him, your left foot following your right in a rhythm of peppiness, and lean up towards him with a shine in your eyes. God, you look so pretty. Sure, seeing you from a comfortable distance with an easel separating your bodies was nice and all, but when you pull stunts like this - with no room for him to scurry off and run - he actually takes the time to digest your features in their true beauty. You’re the artist, yet he seems to be the one who’s always studying you.

“Do you have any plans for today?” You ask in a curious tone. Your hands are held together behind your back as you send him a beaming grin with an upturned lip. “—because I was thinking about grabbing some tea, and it would be so unfortunate if I had to go all alone and sit by myself with all of those strangers around me. Who knows what could happen? If only there were someone who could protect me in case a sleazy guy asks for my number…”

Are you trying to manipulate him, right now?

��I’ve got nothing to do today.”

—because he’ll gladly let you do so. 

The peaks of your eyebrows raise in surprise, not expecting him to accept the offer so quickly. Over the short time you’ve known one another, you’ve noticed that Suguru’s reluctance to spend one-on-one time with you has dwindled. He’s slowly becoming more comfortable in your presence and whatever inner turmoil that he’s facing is fading into the tide of your raging tsunami. There’s a peaceful gaze behind his brown eyes, now. One that you love to study whenever he isn’t looking your way (which isn’t often). 

“Then it’s a date!” Surging forwards, you take his arm in yours and link yourselves together. He’s initially shocked by the immediate physical connection you’ve managed to make within mere seconds, but he thinks that he likes it. It’s been so long since he’s even held hands with a girl, so he’s understandably tense, but you’re giving him time to adjust. After all, scaring him away would be your last intention. “I’ll even pay for your drink, since you were kind enough to find my lost satchel.”

“Yeah, your lost satchel was so hard to find.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He smiles to himself.

Yes, you do.

He isn’t sure how, but he’s somehow burned his tongue again. 

“Shit!” Suguru hurriedly places his mug down onto the circular wooden table that separates the two of you, while attempting to be gentle since he doesn’t want to waste the perfectly tasty coffee that you paid for. He groans, dabbing the corners of his lips with one of the complimentary paper napkins. “Why does it get me every time?” 

This is perhaps the third week in a row that you and him have ditched the studio and decided to claim the neighboring cafe as your designated date spot - though you’re still an unofficially exclusive couple. Unofficial as in Suguru hasn’t found the nerves to ask you to be his girlfriend, and exclusive as in neither of you are nor want to see other people. It’s a confusing situation for both parties to be in, but he just can’t seem to take that next step with you no matter how hard he tries to push himself towards the ideal solution. 

Suguru is a rationalist. He takes in the information given to him through interactions and associations, working through it with logistics on his mind, and tries to find the best outcome. It’s how he’s lived every hour and every day of his adulthood, and he’s fairly set in stone with his mannerisms at this point. He always known who he is, what he wants, and how to obtain those things. What he didn’t know, though, was that an unpredictable variable (you) would crash into his life and disarray the routine that he’d been building for twenty-three years. 

The hypothesis born of the situation isn’t a difficult one to solve, after all he’s had it written down for a month: if Suguru finds the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, then you’ll likely say yes and the two of you will live happily ever after. Easy, right?

Wrong. He’s a chicken.

“Here. This might help you cool down.”

Your arm is extended, offering him your drink of the day without hesitation. Every time you come here, arm-in-arm, you order something different. ‘There’s no fun without surprise’, is what you tell him after the consistent strange glances he sends your way when you’re ordering, and he can’t help but disagree. You’re very different individuals - and that difference is extremely apparent with the light, mint garnished tea in your glass compared to the dark roast coffee in his. 

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.” He sighs in relief as the cool liquid flows down his throat in an internal waterfall. “Holy shit, this is actually so good.”

You laugh, “I would hope so. I only got it because of the photo on the menu. It’s like a rainbow of color.”

And there it is. The thing that isolates him the most from your world. 

As much as he likes you, which is more than he can explain, he can’t help but have that itching thought at the back of his mind that you’ll never truly be able to connect with one another. You bask in the beauty of the world around you. From the apparent golden sun showers and bouquets of stark red roses - two things that you’ve described to him in great detail amidst your walks through the farmer’s market on Saturday mornings -  to the countless brush strokes against the white canvas at his mother’s studio, you adore a world in color. 

It’s a viewpoint that’s shaped who you are, from infantry to your current age of twenty-two, and it’s something that you’ll never be able to let go of. 

To be quite frank, it scares him. It keeps him up at night knowing that seeing the world through your eyes is impossible. That it’s a far off dream that is unobtainable, taunting him in his mind and heart like a bone dangling in front of a dog’s face. He wishes that he could admire the blue streaked skies and emerald green ferns that line the streets of the city. He yearns to feel overcome with pride at the sight of your watercolor drafts - which you attempt to show him after every class session to no avail - and congratulate you on the progress you’re making. There are so many things that he dreams of doing with you, dreams that exist solely in your world, as they’ll never be possible in his. 

He hasn’t officially asked you to be his yet, because how could he?

How could he bind you to him? You’d be miserable looking through his eyes - having to see only hues of black, white, and grey, similar to the pencil sketches that you’ve openly shown your hatred for in front of him. ‘There’s just nothing there,’ is what you mumble to yourself. ‘No life, no anything without color.’ To which you then drop a single ounce of paint against the seemingly dreadful piece of art - and the sparkle in your eyes as it comes to life is something that he loves to see but can’t understand… 

…as you see the world in a way that he can never understand. 

Suguru doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to tell you about his condition. It would end everything all at once, and he isn’t sure how he would recover from that kind of heartbreak. You’re so blissfully unaware of how much conflict runs through his veins on a daily basis. Hell, you don’t even notice how he orders a singular black coffee every time you approach the counter together. You don’t see how he struggles to agree with you as you admire the assortment of blended beverages with a forced smile on his face. You don’t understand why he chooses to indulge in such a bitter drink and make sure to comment on it every single time.

He can’t blame you, though - it really is disgusting - but he also can’t tell you that he orders his coffee black since it’s a universal drink that appears the same to everyone who sees it. At least when he’s holding the steaming mug between his large palms, he knows that it appears to you as it does to him. That the divide that’s ripping a ravine through your connected hands is lessened in a sense - and you’re truly viewing one thing as the same. 

Which is why he sits pretty and appreciates the short time that you do spend together, and suffers through piping hot coffee three times a week with no interruptions. 

“I think I’ve made some progress on my portfolio.”

Your drink has been returned to your hands now. The small, clear glass is ringing as you tap the sides with your fingernails. It’s somewhat soothing, the rhythm following the tune of one of your favorite songs that Suguru happens to know very well after walking in on you in the middle of ‘art therapy’, in which you blast the music at full volume and deafen all other sounds. You have a tendency to be impatient - art being the only thing that can really pin you down for a long period of time - yet you’ve made room in your heart for Suguru despite this. 

“Really?” Suguru dabs his mouth carefully, being ever the proper suitor in your presence. “My mom hasn’t given you any recent critiques?” 

“No, she has.” As your words continue, you take a long sip of your tea. He can feel his cheeks flush while you swallow. He loves anything you do. “Just little comments about negative space and color theory, but I’m getting there.”

“Nice.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“Yeah, nice.” 

Despite his seemingly rude reaction, you’re still gazing at him with a smile on your face. It isn’t an exceedingly joyful smile or one of excitement, but something of contentedness. You’ve become comfortable around him - shedded the hyperactive layers of skin that you display to onlooking strangers - and have begun to share the side of yourself that only your bedroom walls know. Seeing this side of you has made him fall even harder. Knowing that someone so confident, so bold, is just like him - caring so much about first impressions and likeability - and has their own insecurities is validating. Validating in the sense that you find him special enough to throw away the filter and be your true self in his presence. 

“You know,” you begin in a wistful tone, “you aren’t a man of many words, Suguru - and if I’m being totally honest, my patience is running out.” 

He hopes this isn’t going where he thinks it is.

He’s not letting you ask him out before he can—

“What am I to you?”

Oh.

Your eyes are giving him an expectant look, now. 

What the hell is he supposed to say to that?

This is the quietest you’ve ever been, you aren’t even swirling the star-shaped ice cubes in your strawberry lemon tea. 

Why can’t he think of anything to say?

His silence is causing you to furrow your eyebrows in concern. 

This is so embarrassing. Just say something. Anything. 

“You’re my mom’s student.”

Anything but that.

“I’m…” the words at the tip of your tongue seem to dissolve like damp sugar cubes, “I’m your mom’s student.”

Your sentence is more of a statement than a question. It’s as if there’s a machine in your brain, working through his given answer and comparing all of the other possibilities he could’ve said. There were endless responses to your inquiry, and he somehow managed to pick the worst one. 

He needs to fix this. How can he fix this?

“You’re not just a student, though.” His words are tumbling over one another in somersaults and you seem to perk up at his continuity. The hope in your heart grows a little bit larger, pulsating and yearning for him to say exactly what you’d been wanting for weeks-on-weeks. “You’re my mom’s special student.” 

Oh God, he made it worse.

“What?” Suguru tries to reach for your hand in an attempt to compensate for his actions through physical touch, but you retaliate and instinctively jerk away. You quickly stand, drink in hand, and back away from him as he follows like a lost puppy. Your head is shaking from right to left, disbelief exerting from the pores of your skin like poison - sentencing him with death while it seeps through his gaping mouth and empty palms. “I’m a special student?” 

How the hell are you so fast?

Within seconds the two of you are at odds outside of the building. The weather is somewhat chilly - springtime having just come around with the cherry blossoms in full bloom - and it’s probably a beautiful day with the petals raining down on the pavement. You’d usually make a comment about how wonderful the horticulture was outside of the shop, but now you’re stomping over every fallen flower and budding stem that lies in the way of your rage-filled path. He’d always thought of you as a gentle soul, but apparently even gentle souls have their breaking points - and he never dreamed that he’d be yours.

“If I’m so special, what makes me different from the girl before me and the one before her?” This is the first time you’ve ever raised your voice at him. “Did you take all of them out for drinks? Did they all get to spend one-on-one time with their mentor’s ‘handsome’ son? Did you lead all of them on, too? Suguru, what kind of answer is that?”

You’ve found yourselves in an alcove now - about a block from the cafe in a small garden nestled between two buildings. The blossoming trees continue to surround you from all sides, perfectly framing the tragic picture of him saying anything and everything you absolutely do not want to hear. A large sigh leaves your lips, heaving from your chest as if he’s popped a balloon and is pushing all of the air out with the strength of his smooth hands. 

“That’s not what I meant!” He pauses as you halt in place, slowly turning to face him like you're something out of a horror movie - a monster who’s ready to murder their prey. A gulp runs down his Adam’s apple. You’re terrifying when upset. “Please, just let me explain!”

“Explain what?” Suguru flinches at your volume. “If you want to explain yourself so badly then tell me why the hell would you say something like that?”

“Sure, you aren’t the best with banter or having a crush - but dear God, you cannot possibly be that dense.” This is getting bad. “I’ve left hundreds of hints! Every single goddamn day - and you’ve picked up on all of them! You know, I thought that when you’d hold my hand or kiss my cheek that you actually meant something by it. I figured ‘he spends so much time with me, he can’t possibly not like me’, but no. I’m just a student.”

Your face is fuming with every dreadful word that comes out of your mouth. “Oh, sorry. I’m a special student.”

If this were a scene in an animated film, your hair would be on fire now. Flames as high as mountain tops would be spiking in sharp peaks at every end of sentence and statement spitting from your mouth. Your normally warm irises would be drawn as ice cold, not leaving any room for life as they skate across his timid features - wishing for him to reach freezing level so you could smash him into a million pieces. 

You’d always told him that red and blue - fire and ice - were two things that you admired most. With their ever changing states of matter and forceful power amidst the seasons, he found himself believing as you do. Suguru actually learned to appreciate their vast palette as if he could see it with his own eyes - but now? Now he thinks that they’re the two worst things in the universe - as their destructive nature has decided that their target is him, and he has absolutely no defenses prepared. 

“I should’ve caught on sooner, shouldn’t I have?” You’re still going, hot tears building up and threatening to stream down your cheeks. Never in his life has Suguru been at the receiving end of such anger - and never in his life has he learned how to manage a situation as such. So, he does what any clueless man would do - he returns the anger. 

“You’re not even listening to me!” His hands are violently moving while his words cut like knives. “You never listen to me!”

“I never listen to you?” He’s apparently hit another nerve. “Is that some kind of sick joke? Suguru, all I do is listen to you! It may not look like it, but I see the way you tense whenever I talk about my passions and dreams. I notice the way your face drains when I’m asking you for your opinion on my works in progress. Sometimes it’s like I can physically hear your eyes rolling when they see me walk into the studio with my bag of brushes and materials. Yet, you think that I don’t listen? I take note of every single thing that you do when you’re around me, because I don’t want to miss out on a single moment with you, and you don’t even care!”

He can’t believe that you’re pinning this on him.

“How could you even say that?” Suguru can’t tell who’s in the right or wrong anymore - all he knows is that if he doesn’t stop speaking, you’ll walk away forever. “I’ve never cared about anyone as much as you! I’ve done my best to entertain your interests and the absurd things you ask of me—”

“Well, your best hasn’t been enough.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

“Are you being serious, right now?” 

Your eyes are stoney, rock solid with stubbornness as you refuse to accept his side of the story and he knows that you won’t be budging from the beliefs that you’re choosing to hold against him. Suguru doesn’t know how everything went so wrong so fast, but he does know that he doesn’t have what it takes to save the situationship that he mistakenly put the two of you in. 

“What the fuck did I do wrong that you resent me this much? Not even an hour ago all you wanted was to see me get down on one knee and profess my ‘undying’ love for you.” He’s so angry. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this angry. “Now I’m some asshole who doesn’t give a shit about your wellbeing? If everything I’ve done hasn’t been enough, then I might as well go fuck myself, right? I’m sorry I’m not perfect like you! I’m sorry I can’t see the world through crystal lenses like you! I’m sorry that I’m not good enough for you!”

His face feels wet. When did he start to cry? Was it ten minutes ago? Five? Just now? The hurricane of emotions that he’s putting himself through is more than he’s endured in years - his mental blockage of his condition finally coming to light as his heart runs off of the rails - and you’ve definitely seemed to notice considering the concern etched into your expression. 

“I was never going to be perfect for you,” he begins with a softer tone. Perhaps his hot bundle of rage has subsided for a few moments. “I can’t be with you. I can’t understand how you see the world. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life listening to you ask me all of these questions and opinions on your work when I can’t even see it fully.”

You’re so close to him. Somewhere in the flurry of words, you took a step in his direction. “Suguru, what’re you talking about?”

As he bites his bottom lip with the fear of judgment raging in his mind, his secret is set free. 

“I’ve always liked this shirt on you,” he solemnly smiles, “This shade’s my favorite color that you wear.”

You look up at him, pulling at the fabric against your chest in confusion. “Red?”

“Grey.”

He’s laughing lightly, making up for the thoughtful silence that you’ve found yourself in. It’s like he can physically see the gears turning in your head as they attempt to make sense out of his statement. “It’s more of a rich grey - almost black - and it compliments your skin tone. You know, my mom used to tell me that the way to a woman’s heart is through compliments. I’ve always tried my best to do that, but it clearly hasn’t been working.”

His hands somehow find yours as he shares the inevitable truth he’d been hiding so hard - and with a deep gulp, his secret is finally exposed.

“After all, how could I ever reach someone’s heart without even knowing what color their eyes are?”

He misses you. He can’t help it, but he does. 

The memories he has with you are a cassette tape on autoplay - constantly running through his mind on repeat, and always ending with the awful confrontation that you’d left each other with. Suguru wishes he hadn’t raised his voice. He wishes that he would’ve been honest with you from the very beginning, but he hadn’t, and there’s no changing the past. All he has now are two empty hands that would much rather be interlaced with your paint-covered fingers. 

“How much longer do you think you’re going to be moping?” Satoru’s call is distant from the turning gears within Suguru’s brain. He’s sure that his best friend has grown tired of his constant state of melancholy - having been forced to be his support system after you walked out the door - and Suguru feels awful about it. If he could, he’d rip his heart from his chest and allow you to step on it. To stomp and tear through the organs just as you’d done to those poor bystanding cherry blossoms on the sidewalk. 

“As long as she’s still upset with me.” He groans as his forehead hits the marble of the island counter. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, well we already knew that.” The bright-eyed man beside him scoffs while taking yet another drink of his apple juice - which he has unfortunately had to drink for the past hour and a half since Suguru had somehow consumed his small supply of alcohol within the past few weeks that the two of you hadn’t been speaking. “I was really rooting for you, man. I thought she was the one to break your cycle.”

“Cycle?”

What the hell does he mean by ‘cycle’?

“Oh, you know,” Satoru continues without even taking a breath, “The cycle of life you’ve got going on with your inability to actually attract girls.”

Suguru hates him.

“You’re so funny.” He grumbles, taking his own swig of the pint of orange juice he found in the back of his fridge. Is it expired? Likely yes. Does Suguru care, at all? Definitely not. Is he even more pissed off that he doesn’t understand the irony of why it’s called orange juice? He doesn’t want to answer that question. “An unhelpful funny guy who should definitely stay over and cook dinner for me since he wants to make up for being so unhelpful.”

Satoru scoffs, shaking his head whilst the thin, soft strands of his hair flit back and forth. His right eyebrow raises in a mocking expression, “You need to get yourself back out there, man. You’ll be old and grey if you keep waiting for the perfect girl to come knocking on your door, so just talk to her. Just talk to her and put me out of my misery.”

“Are you trying to make this about you, right now?” Suguru stares at his best friend in utter disbelief, but he’s not truly upset. He knows that Satoru holds good wishes for him in all manners of life - this being no exception - and takes his words to heart. He’s right. Of course, he’s going to lose you if he doesn’t even try to get you back. “The sun must be falling out of the sky because I’m actually considering following your advice.”

“That’s a pretty picture to imagine,” his friend chuckles, causing Suguru to roll his eyes. What’s the sensation that everyone has with mentioning imagery every five seconds? “Just talk to her, man.” Satoru continues, “Please, I’m all out of advice.”

Suguru takes his friend’s pleas to heart. It is quite ridiculous that he’s spending his time depressed and lonesome when he could be reconciling with you. Perhaps it’s his fragile masculinity acting out and refusing to take blame for the situation, although he’s fully aware it’s completely his fault that you’re upset with him. 

It’s difficult for the gears to begin turning in Suguru’s head. They’re covered in brittle rust that’s been creeping deep into the crevices of his mind for his entire life - slithering down his spine towards his blackened heart that you had only just begun to breathe life into. He misses the feeling of spring that came when you called. The freshwater rain of your laughter and budding blossoms of your smile that washed away his loneliness and replaced the awful emotion with an overgrown garden of bliss. He still doesn’t understand how he managed to mow that garden down with one sentence. He might as well have taken a chainsaw and brutally hacked into every connection that he’d managed to make with you in your time of knowing each other. 

Now he’s going to be on his knees begging for forgiveness with his hands stained by the minced grass. Does grass stain green or yellow? Hopefully not brown, dear lord. He’ll be buried deep into apologies that should definitely be rehearsed, but he knows he’s not an artist with words and he won’t bother to waste your time with crumpled-up ‘I’m sorry’ notes and improvised tears. 

You deserve nothing but the best - so much more than he’s been giving you and he needs you to hear those words come straight from his mouth. 

When did you begin to mean so much to him? Suguru doesn’t even know. 

It could’ve been when you showed up to his community soccer game unannounced, with first row seats and a booming cheer that he never knew he desired. ‘C’mon number ten! I know you can do better than that! Beat their asses, Suguru!’ He nearly tripped at the sound of your voice, and falling on his face was the last thing he wanted to do in front of the opposing team - but to be completely honest, he doesn’t remember much of his qualms with his rivals from that day. Suguru was solely focused on playing well for you. The world stopped and he was given all the time needed to impress you. You give him a reason to be better, a selfless reason to do good. 

Perhaps it was when you’d shown him around your homey apartment, with maple art easels and splattered canvases lining the walls, and watched with glee as he made his best attempt at a finger painting (which may or may not have ended up looking like two worms kissing). ‘It’s abstract’, you’d say every time he found something new that was wrong with the art piece, ‘All it needs is a home. See?’ You hung his shitty little sketchbook paper on your living room wall, right next to your TV for the whole world to see. The way you stood there staring in awe still rattles his brain. You’ve always been able to find beauty in even the smallest things. 

Or maybe his heart had begun to beat a little faster that Saturday night on the way out of the theater. The romance of the film the two of you just witnessed was still on Suguru’s mind, provoking his alcohol-induced body to make a pathetic attempt at holding your hand - which resulted in him accidentally knocking you over into a street puddle that swallowed the heel of your shoe. ‘I needed to take a shower anyway, Suguru, it’s fine!’ Your smile continued to be bright despite the low temperature and sprinkling rain, and he can recall wondering how you managed to stay so positive in such a dreary situation. As you discarded your soggy heels into a nearby trashcan and skipped barefoot on the pavement, you called, ‘Come on! Dance with me!’ The shared laughter between the two of you echoed through the seemingly empty streets that surrounded you - hands connected as you swung in circles around each other and fell over one too many times, until he carried your sleeping body home. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever been able to make him laugh as hard. 

The way the corners of your eyes crinkle amidst fits of giggles is his favorite image to replay. He doesn’t need to know the color to be able to see how beautiful they are - to appreciate the blinding sparkle that overwhelms your irises when he accidentally trips over the uneven sidewalk or knocks over your painting station - or even when he unintentionally makes a sexual innuendo that you just so happen to pick up on. ‘That’s a love hotel, Suguru! Why would I have stayed there before?’ It was almost as if you were conducting a symphony of glorious laughter that night. The violins played the tune of your voice in a higher octave and the cellos added a punch everytime you’d bite your lip in an attempt to calm down. He hadn’t known what a love hotel was intended for before that night, but he’d also made the mistake to say, ‘I wouldn’t mind going to my first one with you, it could be a first for both of us.’ and you still haven’t let him live it down. Suguru’s honest with himself for the most part. He’s awkward, insufferable, and a bore to be around - yet, for some odd and unknown reason, those are your favorite things about him. Why?

Why is it that he can’t function like a normal person when your eyes meet his?

Why do his words rearrange themselves and become complete gibberish when he attempts to woo you with his charm?

What is it that keeps him coming back to you, despite holding such deep hatred for the things that you love most?

“I need to text her.” Suguru feels his chest vibrate as he finally makes a decision, the words pouring from his mouth in a short word vomit - forcing Satoru to piece together the jumbled mess and attempt to comprehend whatever it was that his big brother was trying to say, to which he jumps up from his seat at the island and aggressively pats Suguru on the back. 

“That’s what I’ve been saying, dumbass! Get those fingers movin’!” 

His phone falls into his hands in a millisecond, with Satoru eagerly awaiting to hear his poetry. He’s grateful to have such a supportive friend. Suguru knows that there aren’t many people who would be willing to put up with him for so long - having been moping around and complaining day-and-night of relationship problems that were solely caused by him - and he can’t imagine not having his support. Hopefully he’ll be able to introduce you, one day. You’ll both give him so much shit for his attitude. Oh well. It’ll all be worth it having two people he loves get along. 

…

Did he just…

What did—

There’s no way.

Did he really just use that word? That godforsaken word?

He’s trembling. Suguru’s phone is shaking in his hands as he finally comes to the realization that he does, with his entire heart and being, love you. In an instant, his entire world scrambles together with rapid dashes and line art that he can’t even comprehend. There’s no rules to follow with these types of feelings - this insistent need to see you. Hold you. Kiss you.

Fuck, he wants to kiss you. He can’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing. 

Like tapping raindrops that never cease their fall, his fingertips move against the keypad in a rhythmic motion - singing a song of love that can’t be contained into a simple lullaby. His heart pours out into the message, apology after apology being pasted in paragraphs, and hopes with his whole soul that you’ll find it in yourself to at least see him in person. There’s no way you won’t. Suguru knows you well enough now that he’s certain he’ll be seeing you again. All he needed to do was take the first step towards forgiveness, and he’s finally willing to be vulnerable and own up to his inability to be honest about his feelings, because he loves you. He loves you and he wants to tell you a hundred times, a thousand times, and a million times until you beg him to shut the hell up and kiss you. 

‘I’ll be at the studio tonight. I miss you, and I’m sorry.’

He ends the message with a final apology, begging fate that you’ll read it in time to meet him while he still has courage - and with that, he’s on his way to the place he hates most, awaiting the person whom he loves most.

An hour has passed - well technically it’s been fifty-seven minutes, but who’s counting?

He’s counting.

The sun went into hiding ages ago and the moon now stalks him as he sits in his chair, lonely with two vacant eyes that wish they were gazing at yours. Suguru can’t even tell if you’ve read the text or not - the grey speech bubbles look the same as they always have, and the delivered sign is posted at the bottom with no response. He wants to send a follow-up message, just a little ‘hey, you there?’ but he knows that’s a little bit much. If you want to see him, you’ll see him and he’ll confess his feelings once-and-for-all - though, he’s feeling much less confident than he was an hour ago. Ahem, sorry. Fifty-nine minutes ago. 

Suguru has a plan of what he’s going to say to you, and hopefully it makes sense when the words begin to fall from his lips. He’s said it many times before, but he’ll say it again, he’s never been good with words or feelings or anything of the sort. He wants to get better, though - to become more emotionally aware for your sake, because he knows that’s a priority for you. You have an image of your dream guy that’s been in your wishes since primary school - tall, handsome, daring, dashing, yada, yada, yada - and he’s trying to be that guy. He needs to be that guy. He’ll be anything for you. 

Anything and everything…even the desperate guy who can’t get a text back. 

Y’know, for a moment - a brief and fleeting moment - the world seemed a little more beautiful in his self-realization of love. The stars glistened brighter and the street lights sparkled in their reflections. Before tonight, Suguru hasn’t ever been able to appreciate the natural beauty of what surrounded him. He never understood your fascination with replicating real life into paintings and sketches, but he seems to have digested the concept - at least a little bit. The only thing that could undoubtedly make his world more dazzling would be the sight of you, and holy shit there you are. There you are opening the front door - and your gorgeous, perfect reflection in the glass is looking straight at him. 

He doesn’t need the ability to see color to know that you’re the most fascinating and jaw-dropping sight in the entire universe - and that the rainbow should be rearranged in the letters of your name in honor of your ability to captivate attention and inflict a multitude of emotions on him that he’s never felt before. 

“Suguru?” Your melodious voice is the remedy that his ears have been yearning for. “Suguru, is that you? Why’re you in the dark?” 

This means you haven’t read his text, right? Otherwise, why would you be confused as to why he’s here? Wait, why’re you even here?

You begin to explain yourself without him needing to ask, “I left my phone in here earlier like an idiot and I’ve been looking for it all day. Isn’t that so dumb?” You let out a little laugh, amused at your inability to keep track of your personal belongings. Why aren’t you acting like you’re upset with him? The last time you talked, you could barely look him in the eye - yet now, you’re so casual, almost as if nothing happened. “Here I am looking for my lost phone, but instead I find a lost Suguru Geto.”

“What are you doing here? Sitting in the dark?”

The repeated question is met with a pregnant silence as Suguru fails to piece together the rehearsed words he had come up with earlier, settling on a bear hug that nearly suffocates you. 

He’s so overwhelmed by the feeling of touching you again that he barely notices how stiff your posture is. You’re practically a piece of rock in the midst of being carved by its maker, frozen and unable to formulate an action in response - which, in this case, means that he’s your artist. Suguru relaxes his hold, urging you to reciprocate his warmth by nestling his face in your neck. Your right arm finds its place wrapped around his waist and your left around his neck, allowing him to engulf you further into his hold. You smell so nice. He notices the lavender perfume that he bought you is still rubbed into your skin, and he’s glad that you’re finally using it. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Suguru’s fingers run through your hair in smooth waves, gently kneading out the small knots and helping you relax - and he can tell that your full attention is on him. For the first time in knowing you, there aren’t any distractions or excuses to avoid this conversation. It’s just you, him, and the bare truth. He just hopes he can execute this right. 

“There aren’t enough words to explain how sorry I am, genuinely. I shouldn’t have ever belittled you like that.” He takes a deep breath, one of many, and closes his eyes. The scene of you stomping away from him has no end in his mind. It constantly plays at every hour of the day, re-run after re-run, to torment him and remind him how horribly he screwed up with you. Please, please forgive him. “You’re not just my mom’s student. You’re not just a friend that I get coffee with. You’re so much more than that and I’ve been such a fucking chicken and haven’t been able to be honest with you.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known about my condition and it was wrong of me to take my frustration out on you.” Suguru can feel himself begin to cry, his tears raining down his cheeks in cascades of pent up anger and hatred for how he made you feel that day. You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve to be treated like shit by him. “Your work is important to you and I know it should be appreciated. What’s important to you is important to me, okay?”

“You love your art, and I love you.”

He says it over and over again. Those three special words rapidly become six words, nine words, eighteen, forty-two, and onwards as you look at him with an empty expression. Please, please say something. For every second of no response, he confesses his love to you. He confesses as if it’s his source of air - the only way that he’ll be able to survive this encounter is if he bares his emotions with no regrets. If this were a movie, he’d be the desperate protagonist in the climax of the story who fucked up his love life and is begging for a second chance - hell, this is real life and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Just, please, have a happy ending.

You open your mouth, yet nothing comes out. No words. No statements. No confessions. You’re simply staring at him like he’s just told you the most absurd news in the existence of the universe…

…and then a tear falls. 

One tear slips from your eyes, followed by another, and another…until your face is drenched in salty rain with black mascara creasing your eyes. You look like a raccoon. Suguru almost starts laughing. No. He is laughing; laughing because your false lashes have fallen into your hands as the glue refused to be waterproof - and now you’re standing before him in a puddled mess of makeup and disheveled hair. You’ve never looked more beautiful. 

Suguru brushes his fingers across your cheek, attempting to wipe away your tears like an artist covering up a beautiful mistake. If he were a painter, he’d paint you a million times and more - hanging every portrait on every single wall of his apartment, until there was literally no space left for a scrap of paper. You’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid his eyes on, and the smile that suddenly bursts from your sobs confirms it. 

“What’s going on? I’m so confused, are you happy or are you sad?” He’s so concerned and his inability to read emotions correctly only makes him more helpless. “Talk to me, beautiful. C’mon.”

You lean into his touch and he instantly knows that everything is going to be okay. 

“I just never thought I’d hear you say that.” Your smile is directed at him now, and he feels a warmth that is so familiar yet unfamiliar and he can’t get enough of it. It’s similar to the feeling of being showered in sunlight or snuggling beneath a comforter in the winter - an overwhelming comfort that’s a gift from you to him. “I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. Fuck you for that.”

Now you’re both laughing, giggling, and beaming at each other. His heart feels so at peace. The civil war between his divided emotions, love and loneliness, has finally ceased. 

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Neither of you can stop the flow of confessions that slip from your tongues and in an instant your lips are on his - clashing and colliding in a furious kiss that rivals the strength of a hurricane. It’s almost as if he can physically feel your love pouring into him and warming his heart into a heated flame, stoked by the embers of your touch. God, he missed your touch. The feeling of it is addicting. It’s his personal heroin and he’ll never get enough of it. 

Your lips are just as soft as he imagined them to be, perhaps they’re a rosy pink color with the slightest touch of strawberry lip balm that he keeps getting a fleeting hint of taste from. Never in his wildest dreams did he think you’d love him too. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. He silently repeats over and over - grateful that he’s been so blessed to know you…feel you…and love you in the awful world that he hated living on his own  - the world void of color that you’ve somehow brightened by simply breathing beside him. 

His hands are everywhere. Your hips. Your waist. Your breasts. Your neck. He can’t get enough of the feeling of you. With every passing second he’s falling deeper and deeper in love. You’re utterly perfect, he would kiss you for years if that was an option—

Aw shit, he knocked over an easel. 

“Goddammit,” he mumbles while briefly pulling away from you. Of course he had to interrupt the moment he’s been waiting months for with his clumsiness. He’s such a dumbass. If he could punch himself in the gut, he would - but that would be way too embarrassing in front of you - hold up, this painting is familiar!

“Well I'll be damned.” He chuckles and turns the canvas towards you, to which you burst out laughing. “I thought you’d have thrown this out.”

“No,” you gaze at the painting with love in your eyes. “I could never, that’s how we met.”

The painted streak he accidentally inflicted upon your artwork remains in the same position. It seems that you never even bothered covering it up and embraced the imperfection. While Suguru cannot decipher the magnitude of colors on the canvas, he’s sure that the various strokes look gorgeous and masterful. You’ve always been so talented. He’s so lucky.

As he places the painting upon a now-standing easel, you rest your forehead against his. He loves you. He loves you so much. So much so that he can’t help but take a step closer, not just one but many, and embrace the overwhelming love and passion he holds for you. There are so many words he wants to say, confessions that can carry on for an infinite number of lines, but there’s no need for that now. You have forever - and he decides to start that forever with his favorite thing…

…a kiss. 

“I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you more.” He replies.

This is a fancy-ass venue. 

Suguru can’t help but feel underdressed for the occasion, despite being clad in a fitted white button up and black tie, whilst his dress-shoes cramp his feet in the worst ways imaginable. He almost looks like that one moviestar in the romantic comedy you love so much. Was it the one with the rich guy in Singapore or the one where they worked in an office and he was a businessman? Suguru can’t remember. Whatever, it doesn’t really matter either way. He’s distracting himself too much, he needs to focus— tonight is one of the most important nights of your career. No, it is the most important night for your future career. His mother contacted every big art distributor and critic that she has professional relationships with. It’s your night…and wow did you kill it. 

It’s almost as if you’ve plastered yourself across the walls. Every art piece that his eyes roll over is exceptionally you - your personality, your passions, and your heart - and it’s obvious you’ve spent months curating the most perfect array of paintings a person could muster. 

He can read your story like an open book while he slowly makes his way through the gallery. There are paintings depicting your childhood, ones that remind him of the stories you tell him of your primary school drama and premature interests. That one must be when you broke your arm while learning to ride your bike. You’re particularly stuck on that story— strongly stating how upset you were because it was your dominant arm, halting your ability to paint for seven weeks. Referencing your painting passion, there’s a whole array of canvases dedicated to your love for art; beginning with inspirations of immaturity to skillful selections of texture techniques. Suguru is obviously no art critic, but if he were, he’d write a whole expose on how amazing you are. 

With his mind so engaged with your talent, he’s oblivious to the people passing by; so oblivious that he doesn’t even notice his own family approaching. 

“She’s talented isn’t she?” 

Holy shit. The familiar voice of his mother startles Suguru, but he instinctively wraps a loose arm around her waist and greets her with a grin. She returns the affectionate expression and it’s painfully obvious that he got his smile from her, and even more painfully obvious that they’re all trying to embarrass him when Satoru walks up with his teeth beaming.

“Your girlfriend’s a pro at this stuff, Suguru.” Satoru ruffles his best friend’s hair and lightly nudges his shoulder. “I told you something like this would happen one day! You’ve found yourself a dream girl.”

Suguru rolls his eyes in amusement at his friend’s quips, completely ignoring him and focusing on his mom. Satoru’s always been his number one supporter. Though he’d be surprised if Satoru actually kept a girlfriend longer than a month with his constant busy schedule and inability to focus on one girl at a time; but that’s a story for another day. What matters now is his mom’s praise of you.

“Y’know I always knew she had an innate ability.” Miss Geto has a faint smile on her face, gazing at her son with nothing but pure happiness. It’s a true display of a mother’s love for her child, and Suguru doesn’t know what he’d do without her guidance. She squeezes his side and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. God, he’d be so embarrassed if his friends saw this. “Though, I always thought she specialized in artwork.”

Hm? Suguru sends a puzzled glance in her direction. What is she going on about?

His mom continues, knowing her son well enough that he needs a clear explanation in order to understand anything at all, and presses her hand against his chest. “I didn’t realize she was so skilled at touching hearts.”

His heart is beating faster at the mere thought of your beauty.

There are tears behind Miss Geto’s eyes and Suguru can feel the waterworks attempting to break his own dam. They’re an emotional duo, him and his mom, Satoru gets tired of their antics sometimes— but Suguru knows he loves them. His mom always knows the right thing to say. “I never thought I’d see you like this, Suguru.”

Satoru smiles, nodding in agreement. “You seem so at ease. It’s cute.”

Reflexively, he pulls them both into a big hug— which is the first girl-related hug he’s given Satoru since he was a teenager, seventeen years old and inseparable. Suguru finally understands what it means to love and be loved, all because of you; and now he can apply that same love to his perspective on life, which was dreary for so long. The overwhelming comfort he feels in his family’s arms is the same warmth he felt when he was a child, to which he ran into his mother’s arms at any moment for a grasp at joy. For a long time, Suguru believed that it was only possible to have a singular love. Oh how wrong he was. 

“I get it now.” he says softly into their ears. “She helped me understand.”

“And we’re happy for you,” Satoru pats him on the back as hard as he can, eliciting a threatening glare from his best friend, to which Suguru’s mother laughs. 

“Check out the centerpieces down the hall.” Miss Geto nudges Suguru on, standing beside Satoru. “I think you’ll love them, sweetheart.”

With their encouragement, he carries on with the gallery and down the straight hallway of evolving paintings. Every step he takes, seems to carry him into a new era of your life. It’s almost as if he’s time traveling through memories that seemingly morph from abstract to realistic art; and he learns more and more about you with each passing second, ultimately leading towards one large painting in the center of the room. 

Holy shit. You’re breathtaking. 

Never in Suguru’s life has his world stopped due to paint on canvas— but right now, it feels like every single brush stroke is a frozen second that he gets to relive again and again, just basking in the presence of your beautiful skill.

The way you’ve outlined your hair with thin lines and highlighted your lovely cheekbones, is nothing short of masterful. If he looks close enough, he can understand the comforting feeling of cupping your face with just his eyes. He didn’t even know you did self-portraits, but now he wishes he could hang this very one right above his couch; to show off the talent of his amazing girlfriend for everyone to see (not that he actually has many friends other than his former classmates). 

Where are you? He needs to let you know how special it is to be with someone like you—

“Cat got your tongue?”

Speak of the devil.

“Do you like it?” You raise your eyebrows at him expectantly. “What do you think?”

You said the same thing when you first met.

Suguru looks between you and the painting, now realizing that no matter how masterful your skill is, it’s impossible to capture just how gorgeous you are in any form of art. You’re simply exquisite. The most talented painter in the world wouldn’t know how to appreciate your beauty. Davinci? No. Botticelli? No. Di Angelo? Not even he could sculpt your features to perfection. However, despite his high standards, Suguru believes that your self portrait is the greatest thing he’s ever seen. 

The familiar feeling of flusteredness grows on his cheeks as he holds eye-contact with you, wondering what color it is you’re wearing. He bets it’s red, you always wear red around him. “I love it.”

As your right hand finds his palm, the left reaches up and cups his cheek. With a gentle touch, your lips are on his and Suguru feels his head take a spin on the merry-go-round of love. He can’t get enough of you. If he had a choice, he’d spend every waking second of his day peppering you in light kisses on every part of your body— and he’d make sure that you never felt loneliness again. You deserve nothing less than the absolute best, and he’s made it his life’s goal to give that to you.

Slowly, he begins to feel your smile against his lips and you pull away with a lovesick gaze. He pulls you into his chest, cradling your head and kissing it softly before whispering how proud he is, and it’s almost unbelievable how far Suguru’s come. Somehow you’ve lured him into a bottomless ravine where the only resource to live is to be hopelessly in love with you— and truthfully, he never wants to escape. You’re everything to him. 

“You love it?” your eyes are shining brighter than the sun. “You haven’t even seen my best work yet.”

“Oh?’ Suguru raises his brows, mocking surprise at your statement. “Well now you have to show me. It’s only fair.”

You place your hands on his chest and peck his lips before spinning him around. He’s confused for a moment, wondering what you’re doing when you could’ve just led him to the canvas instead of guiding him around like it’s a dance class…but then he sees it. 

He sees himself. 

Never in his life has he completely understood what being in love is. Yes, he's felt love. From his mother, who raised him to be the man he is; caring, thoughtful, and compassionate. From his best friend, who helped him understand ambition and sacrifice. From his community, who challenge him to be the best he possibly can and to support one another without holding grudges. He's felt different types of love from so many people in his life. Familial. Platonic. Admiration. This is different, though. The love you show him is true love. It's the kind of love that movie stars win awards for portraying. It's the fantasy that kids dream about having when they grow up into big adults. It's the thing he thought was impossible to obtain, but was lucky enough to stumble upon you in that empty art studio on the best day of his life. 

He didn't know love could be expressed in this kind of way. Through the very same paint strokes and brush marks that used to make him nauseous with hatred. Seeing your masterpiece, he doesn't understand how he could ever hate something so amazing. Art is spectacular. No. Your art is spectacular. You are spectacular. 

"You love it right?" You're trying your best not to giggle at his awestruck reaction. "Want to know the best part?"

Suguru can feel himself nodding, desperately reaching for your hand in an attempt to ground himself from the air he's walking on— and you begin to explain. "It's a dual piece. Notice how we're facing each other?"

Oh my god, you are facing each other. He hadn't noticed it before, but he can see clearly now. You've placed him in the dead center of the room, giving him a full view of both of the paintings— opposite of one another on two opposing easels. "Tell me more, baby." His voice is nothing louder than a whisper, only for you to hear.

"I'm painted in black and white."

Oh?

"You're painted in color."

...Oh.

"I wanted to show how love knows no bounds. There's beauty in how you see me and how I see you. It doesn't matter that I'm colorless to you, you still look at me like I'm the prettiest girl in the world; and I only wish you could understand how vibrant your eyes are, Suguru. You're the most handsome man I've seen in my entire life."

He loves you.

He loves you so, so much. 

A part of his heart feels like he's falling in love with you all over again. It's growing larger and larger, unable to contain the capacity of feelings he holds for you. He's so overwhelmed with joy that tears begin to fight to escape his eyes, ultimately dripping down his cheeks like watercolor on paper, and he sweeps you into the tightest hug known to man.

There's really only one thing left to do. One thing to close this chapter and carry on with the rest of your love story, something that's sacred only between the two of you. Something that he hopes to say to you everyday, every night, every hour, and every minute that he can.

"I love you."

[jadedxhearts]

𝐁𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐢

You wear a new bikini with the intention of teasing Law with it. Only, your plan backfires on you.

Warnings: nsft, afab reader (no pronouns but Law does say “my girl”)

Originally posted on April 21st, 2023

repost from my main @jadedrrose as a part of my most popular fics event.

You’d practically doomed yourself from the very start of your evening out. 

The crew was having a night out at some island, and truthfully you’d completely forgotten the reason why. It wasn’t anyone’s birthday, and there weren’t any holidays that you could think of. But, nevertheless you were excited for the excuse to dress up. 

It was very hot and humid on the island you’d be spending your evening at; and even with the sun fading away, the heat just never left the air. You also knew it was a beach town, meaning just about everything was on the front of the island, bars and such all incredibly close to the water, some even built on the water. So, with this knowledge combined you decided on an outfit that would work best. 

The base of it was a bikini. It was vibrant, your favorite color in a bright shade with a hibiscus floral pattern in white, littered across both the top and bottoms. It was also rather flimsy and small. The top was a basic triangle cup bikini shape that was held together by two string ties; one behind your neck and the other in your mid back area. The bottoms were similar, only the strings were more high-waisted and tied in little bows at your hips. The set was skimpy and daring, hardly hiding anything from wandering eyes. But it was an easy fix. You grabbed a pair of denim shorts and pulled them over the bikini, only leaving out the strings as the bows would get in the way. So while your ass was covered now, one could only imagine how the outfit looked underneath…

You slipped on a thin floral print open front shirt to cover up a bit more, then grabbed your favorite pair of sandals and sunglasses to complete the look. You reviewed the look over in your mirror, before deciding everything was set in place and you were ready to go.

When you emerged from the stairs of the submarine, it became evident that you were the last one to be ready. Some of the crew had stayed back to wait on you, but most had already departed for the island. 

Law stood at the front of the group, wearing white shorts and similarly to you, an open front shirt with a pattern on it. He looked at you suspiciously, raising an eyebrow and scanning the outfit you wore. He only let out a light huff and didn’t say a word, though. Once you reached his side, he seemed flustered as he slipped your hand into his and muttered, “took ya long enough…”

You looked up to gaze at his face, playfully smiling. There was a hint of blush dusted across his cheeks. But, you decided not to embarrass him over it. “I wanted to look cute… for you,” you replied to him, leaning up to place a little kiss on his flushed cheek. 

—

In the time that you’d spent pretty much partying in the beach town, you’d abandoned the shirt due to the heat. And now, since you were on the beach, you figured it would be fine to remove your shorts. Everyone else was in their swimwear, after all. It’s not like you’d stand out too much.

So you stood up from your seat in Law’s lap, stretching out your limbs before unbuttoning the shorts and moving your hands to slip them down your frame. 

You’d only gotten them slipped just under your bottom when you were suddenly stopped. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

Letting your hands and shorts freeze in the position they were in before you’d been stopped, you turned your head back to look at Law.

“Taking off my shorts so I can get in the water?” 

It was only then you noticed you’d barely stepped a foot away from Law, so you were pretty much directly on display for him. 

“Y/n… don’t you know what your bikini looks like?” 

“Yeah, why?” You asked, trying to play along with him; pretending to be oblivious.

“I can see all of your ass, you’re practically wearing a thong.” He remarked, arms crossed as he frowned.

“Do you like it?” You teasingly asked, smirking down at him. 

“Wh-? Yeah… but, I don’t want some creep looking at my girl’s ass.” He pouted, the same blush from earlier dusting across his face.

You giggled, deciding to let the shorts fall to the sand beneath your feet. “Fine then. You can come with me and cover my ass.”

“I can’t get in ocean water, y/n.”

Rolling your eyes, you decided to just return to his lap, only this time facing him. “Fine, fine. Honestly I just wore it to tease you… I didn’t really plan on letting anyone else see it anyway.”

“Then why did you-“

“To tease you,” you repeated, wrapping your arms around his neck and shimmying further into his lap. 

Law sighed, placing one of his tattooed hands on your lower back. “And did you plan on paying for it, too?”

“Huh?” 

“Don’t think you can just tease me and get away with no punishment,” he muttered into your ear, placing a small kiss on the skin of your neck. 

Feeling more daring, you decided to just dig your own grave now. With a sultry grin, you moved to kiss Law, removing one arm from his neck and placing your hand against his face, holding him as your lips connected.

Law seemed to tense up, probably because of the rather intimate display of affection you two were showing in public, but he moved his free hand to grab your bare thigh, squeezing the soft skin in his grasp. 

He briefly pulled away, but only far away enough to get some air. His breath came out hot as he panted against your wet lips, your mixed saliva still connecting you both together. 

Just before Law could kiss you again, you subtly began to rock your hips, grinding your lower region against him. A breathy grunt escaped Law’s lips, his body tensing up even more as he hardened his grip on your back and thigh. 

“Shit… you’re just asking for it now, hm?” 

You decided then to reconnect your lips, giving hot, wet opened mouth kisses against his own lips. You pushed your hips down harder, whining at the friction of your just barely covered cunt against his hardening length. 

Though your reply was late, you did so anyway, “mhm… please take me back home… punish me for being a whore, Law.”

Not wasting anymore time, Law practically shoved you off of him and slid your shorts back up, tossing your sandals and shirt at you before grabbing the towel you’d been laying on and taking your hand to lead you back to the sub.

—

As soon as you were back in your bedroom with the door locked behind you, Law jumped at you, grabbing your body and biting at the tender skin of your neck, sucking it between his teeth to mark you.

You let out a high-pitched cry, tilting your head back to give him more access. His lips were still wet, and as he dragged them across your skin, your neck became slick with his spit. The sensations felt so intoxicating; the slight pain of his bite before the feeling of his lips sucking you in, the hair of his goatee pleasantly scratching your skin.

“Law,” you quietly whined, legs shaking with need as you tried squeezing your thighs together, desperate to be touched. But his lips didn’t leave your throat.

“Law, please,” you pleaded, fisting his shirt into your palms. “I need you so bad…”

Finally, his attack on your neck ended and you watched with hazy eyes as Law looked down at your needy body with lust evident in his eyes, along with a mischievous look that meant you were really in for it this time.

Just before you could open your mouth to beg for him again, Law pushed you down onto the bed, grabbing at the fabric of the bikini top between your breasts, ripping the entire thing off of you. 

He quickly tossed the garment away, wasting no time to put his tattooed hands on your chest, groping and massaging the plushy mounds. Another whine left your lips as his palms brushed against your nipples, and you leaned your back up into his touch.

“God, you’re so needy,” Law shook his head, removing his hands and watching with amusement as you cried from the loss of his touch. 

Then he was grabbing your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he harshly flipped you over to lay on your tummy, one hand landing on your ass to hold you in place as the other delivered a teasing smack to your skin that poked out from underneath your ridden up shorts, which were removed from your body only a moment later.

Law didn’t even try to be gentle as he forced the denim off of you, throwing it away to free his hands. His palms were on your skin again, squeezing the fat of your bottom as he looked over what was left of your bikini.

The bottoms didn’t cover your ass at all, so when he spanked you again, the contact was directly on your skin this time with a loud slap. 

“You bought this thing knowing it’d piss me off, didn’t you?”

You tried shrugging but that was difficult with your current position. “I knew you’d like it on me… but not in public.”

“Exactly,” he hissed, smacking you again. “You’re such a brat, y/n.”

Letting go of your bottom, Law hastily untied the bows from your hips and pulled the rest of your bikini off. Once that too was tossed away, he freed himself from the restraint of his shorts. You continued to whine, voice louder now as he rubbed his cock against your skin, spitting down at it to get it wet. 

“Law, please!” You begged, “I need to feel you in me… I don’t care what else you do, just stuff me!”

“Don’t care what else?” He echoed your words, lining the tip of his member up with your soaked cunt. “This is a punishment, don’t forget. How about you don’t get to cum until I say so?”

You whined, clearly not liking that idea; but you had no say in whether or not Law would do it. 

You felt one of Law’s hands slip into your hair, grabbing fistfuls of it before pulling on it and finally sliding into your throbbing pussy at the same time. Already it was hard to not cum from that alone, and all you could do was moan and scream in frustration as you tried to hold your orgasm back. 

Law’s pace was ruthless and hard, not giving you any time to adjust to the stretch from his cock as he repeatedly slammed himself into you, getting lost in the feeling of your warm walls fluttering around him as you tried fitting him in. 

Already, your cunt was flooding with juices and that only created more opportunity for Law to fuck you faster, hitting into you more forceful than before; lewd squelching noises accompanied by the slapping of skin echoing throughout the bedroom. 

You moaned and grasped desperately at the sheets underneath you, letting your entire body rock back and forth from the motion of Law’s hard thrusts. “ah-ahh. Law!

“Law! I can’t hold it in anymore,” you cried and begged, letting his name fall from your lips a few more times. “L-Law! Please, I need to cum, Law! I can’t take it!”

You listened for his approval but all you got were grunts and loud pants from behind you, Law not giving you any mercy as he kept up with the abuse on your cunt. 

“Law! I- I can’t- Law,” you screamed, clenching hard onto his cock in an attempt to stop yourself from cumming.

“I don’t give a damn anymore,” he groaned. “Just cum, baby… cum on my cock.”

With his approval, you finally let yourself go and moaned loudly into the mattress as you came; creaming on Law, leaving a white ring of your cum around his cock. 

And Law wasn’t far behind, he continued to fuck you, slam his cock into your spasming pussy for just another moment before tightening his grip on your hips, thrusts becoming sloppy as he let himself start cumming. 

He let out a flustered moan as his hot seed began spilling into you, but he quickly pulled away and let the rest of his cum spill onto your back, leaving a warm sticky mess on your skin.

You both panted heavily, catching your breath and calming down from the intense punishment you’d just endured. After a moment, you felt his mess being wiped off of you, Law gently cleaning you off before turning you on your back so he could look at your face. 

His soft hand cupped your cheek and a kiss was placed on your lips. “You okay, y/n-ya?”

You nodded, blinking away the tears from your eyes. Another kiss against your lips, and you wrapped your arms around Law once again. 

Lifting you up into his hold, Law decided you deserved a relaxing warm bath after what he’d put you through. He carried you to the bathroom, kissing your shoulder and whispering quiet “I love you”s to you the whole way.

[ryuichirou]

can you pretty pretty please with extra sprinkles on top drop the speedpaint for your most recent rookvil art? i wanna see how you did vils pretty dress and everything else cause its all so beautiful

I am so happy you like how it looks!! I would love to make a speedpaint, but unfortunately, I didn’t record it + the base for the drawing was actually done traditionally with a pencil. A lot of my drawings are done this way, actually…

Even though I can’t drop the speedpaint, I’ll do the next best thing and explain my process for this specific drawing step-by-step. It’s actually not that complicated!

Here is how the sketch looked initially. As you can see, I shaded the dress very crudely; in fact I was kind of upset with how the dress looked at this stage. Ironically, I ended up not doing much to the pencil shading, and it still turned out okay somehow?? Anyways, the first thing I did was to prep the sketch for the colouring stage: I adjusted the contrast, fixed Vil’s face, and erased some dirt and imperfections.

Then I create a new layer, set it to Multiply (this way I can colour the sketch without disturbing it, as if I was just colouring a digitally done lineart) and do a base colour layer. There is a gradient in Vil’s hair and Rook’s belt buckle, but other than that, all the colours are flat at this stage.

Before doing all the shading needed for this sketch, I add details such as makeup and tights. If you want to know how I did these, let me know, but I basically looked at a tutorial once and then simplified it lol

Now, the dress.

To be completely honest, there isn’t any proper technique to what I did, everything is always just trial and error and an hour of me going “does that look good? NO IT DOESN’T >:(“ until both Katsu and I are satisfied. This time I was lucky, because it didn’t take very long, and the “solution” was pretty simple.

Starting with the base colour. I turned off the sketch layer to show that it is indeed completely purple. And it looks kind of bright at this point, almost too bright even, especially considering that the dress is supposed to be mostly black, or at least dark purple. But bear with me.

Next I added some highlights (new layer, set on Overlay or Screen, depending on what looks best). Usually I would add the shades first, but I wanted to make the fabric look more “shiny”, you know, the type of fabric that would reflect the floor and make this highlight under the boob lol.

And after that I just went ahead and added black gradient (on a new Layer) from the bottom of the dress to make it look darker, silkier and a little bit more interesting for the eye. I erased some parts of the gradients as you can see, because it looked too dark on the highlighted parts… could’ve just placed the black gradient layer under the highlights layer and saved myself a headache, but hey, where is the adventure in that.

Finally, it turned out looking like this. It looks better than it used to look like initially, but there is one more thing to do. We don’t get to do this one too often, so it always excited both Katsu and me: THE SPARKLES!! Somehow, making the dress sparkly makes everything much better.

How do I do the sparkles: I use the star brush… or was it a snow brush? I use this brush when I draw both of these things lol + when I draw anything sparkly. I would’ve given you this specific one, but I don’t really remember where I got it from, and I honestly think that any starry or snowy brush would work wonderfully as long as the specs are small enough.

After that is done, I just shade the rest of the drawing. Nnew layer set on Multiply, the shading is done with darker purple/red + darker blue, whatever looks better on any particular material: the skin really likes warmer colours, but Rook’s suit looked bad with red shades, so I adjusted it to blue.

And here is the post where I talk about how I colour hair! Good thing I already wrote that one, this post is getting long lol

And the last step is to add details. The original sketch was done in a rather small (smaller than A6) sketchbook, so I couldn’t draw all the details like Vil’s earrings and stuff properly. Basically I just paint on a separate layer on top of everything.

And there you have it! I hope it makes sense, please let me know if you have questions.

[multi-fandom-simp]

Can I request another Garrett soulmate au? This one the mate he finally finds is blind and has been since birth. When she's changed they're not sure if she will gain eyesight as Carlisle said there are some things even venom can't fix. I think it would make Garrett melt being the first thing she's seen. 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Please and thank you!!

(A/N: I apologize for how long this fic took, I was having a few problems with my computer. Nonetheless, I enjoyed writing this! Garrett and his human soulmate may just be my favorite thing to write🤭. I found the dynamic between Garrett and this reader to be so refreshing to express. I added a bit of my own twist to the end with the readers abilities, so I hope you don't mind. As always, Enjoy!)

Eye of the beholder

Garrett x Blind!Fem!Reader

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the twilight characters, nor do I claim them as my own. This work is purely fictional.

Summary: You had come to terms with the fact that you would be blind for the rest of your life, and the fact that you would never know what your lover, Garrett, looks like. But what if there was an accident, and you had to be changed? Would the venom grant you your eyesight?

‼️TW‼️: Mentions of blood, physical injuries, slight angst

Word count: 2,331

“Describe it again”, Your voice holds a pleading edge as you lay your head back on Garrett’s lap, “Please?” 

“I’ve already described it two times, my love” Garrett chuckled, his thumb traced over your cheekbone. He was looking down at you, you could tell by the way his voice echoed. 

You closed your eyes, snuggling further into him, “A third time couldn’t hurt.” 

“ I guess not,” Garrett hummed, “ The snow, as I said is white-”

“White is the color that feels like pillow feathers right?” You inquire, rubbing your fingers together as if you could imagine the very feeling. 

“Mhm-hm”, Garrett hummed in agreement, “ The snow itself is falling fast. Some of it is hitting the window beside us, while most of it is landing on the ground. The pine trees, the spiky ones, are covered in it.”

You shifted before he could continue, “ What does it make you look like, the snow? Does it make your hair a different shade? Do you get paler, if that’s even possible?”

“ I thought my appearance wasn’t important-”

“-It isn’t!” You reassure, “ I love you for who you are, obviously. I just want to know how you change with the seasons.” 

“ His hair is a shade lighter. It goes from a cold tone to a warm tone, and no, it isn’t possible for him to get paler” Kate’s voice echoed from down by your feet. The Denali’s had been your makeshift family for quite a while, that’s how you had originally met Garrett. Kate had befriended you, despite the fact that you were just a human. You were a ‘fun soul’ she had insisted. 

Then, after a visit from her cousin Carlisle, Garrett randomly appeared. Apparently, during Carlisle’s visit, he had come to the conclusion that you were the type of warmth Garrett needed, and he was right. The two of you clicked instantly. With Garrett, it was like you could see the world, even if you physically couldn’t. He made you feel whole, despite the rest of the world thinking you weren’t. Garrett never figured out how Carlisle guessed you would be his mate, but he’ll be forever grateful nonetheless. He had since then become happier, and healthier as the Denali’s would put it. Garrett hadn’t touched a human in the years he’s known you. 

“Thank you, Kate, at least someone is helpful” You snort teasingly. 

Garrett scoffs sarcastically, “ If I’m not helpful, then I guess you’ll have to find another mate who will read to you.” 

“Carmen would” You huff, folding your arms stubbornly.

“Speaking of Carmen, she wants Garrett to take care of a bear problem” Kate informed, she must’ve been standing in the doorway now since you could barely hear her. 

You didn’t need perfect eyesight to know that Garrett had rolled his eyes, “ and here I thought Kate had come to visit because she missed us”

Tanya had been gracious enough to let you and Garrett stay in the guest cabin, which was only a ten-minute walk from the main family house. It gave the two of you all the privacy and independence you needed but still remained close enough for the others to pop in and out. 

“Will you remain here while I take care of the bear, or would you like me to take you over to chat with Kate-”

You sighed, cutting him off before he could worry anymore,“-Darling, we’ve lived in this cabin for years now, I can handle myself long enough for you to handle a pesky bear.” 

“Yes, I know, and I’m not doubting you” Garret paused to cradle either side of your face, “ but leaving you in this house so far from the others just worries me. I'm sure Eleazor can handle the bear.” 

You pulled Garrett’s hands from your face, “Garrett go, I will be perfectly fine while you’re gone.” 

“Stubborn as ever” Garrett grumbled underneath his breath.

You snorted, “I heard that.”

“ You were meant to” Garrett replied before turning away, “I’ll only be gone a moment. Don’t venture outside the snow is getting worse-”

“-Gooooo” You groaned, tired of the princess treatment. Garrett mumbled a quick, ‘fine, fine’ under his breath before whisking away. The rush of air he left behind aided the deep breath you took. The house was now silent, and normally you hated silence. This, however, was nice. A moment of true independence is what you needed. Not that Garrett didn’t give you that, because he did, but he also smothered you sometimes. You had dealt with the challenges of being blind long before you met Garrett, and you would continue to deal with it even when he wasn’t there. 

A thump near the door caught your attention. You cocked your head to the side just in time to hear it again. It was heavy and repetitive. Your palm slid flat against the living room wall as you moved closer to the door. Normally you would use your walking stick when venturing outside, but you only planned on opening the door this time, not exiting it. 

“Hello?” You called out loudly, hoping that whatever animal it was would scurry away before you opened the door, but as you paused, the thump sounded once more. You opened the door slowly, cracking it just enough for you to step one foot outside. The sound was louder now as if it was right next to your head. You took your hand off the door for only a second, a second too long apparently. Before you could comprehend what was happening, your foot lost its grip on the first step and you were descending downwards. The icy steps met your back harshly, probably cracking a rib or two upon their greeting. Your head received the worst of the fall it seemed. It hit the cold step so hard that the ice turned warm, or perhaps that was just blood that you were feeling. Your heart stuttered at the pain, and Garrett had heard it. He was back by your side before the muscle inside your chest could beat again. 

“ No, no, no, you were supposed to stay inside” Garrett panicked, he slipped a hand under your neck so that he could assess the damage. His undead heart would’ve dropped to his stomach if it could’ve. Sat at the bottom of your head was a gnarly gash that trickled blood onto the snow. 

“Garrett-”

He put his other hand to your cheek swiftly, reminding you of his presence, “Yes, my love?”

He could see struggle decorate your features momentarily, “ I can’t move anything. Why can’t I move?”

Garrett stilled,“ Don’t worry about that. I’ll call Carlisle and he’ll fix everything-” 

“-Why can’t I move?” A phantom ache spread across Garrett’s chest at the panic in your voice. 

“Carlisle will explain everything, I promise” Garrett slid his hand away from your face and place it beneath your legs. Slowly, and carefully, he moved you back into the house. He placed a towel beneath your head and called Carlisle at the same time. The blonde doctor was quick to reassure Garrett that he would be there as soon as possible, and that he was. Carlisle took no more than a half hour to reach the Denali residence. Kate had been the one to greet him at the door. She explained how bad your condition had gotten, and just how much blood you had lost. Carlisle knew what he would have to do before he even entered the house, and it seemed Garrett did too. 

“ Carlisle” Garrett greeted. 

Carlisle nodded in return, “Hello again, Garrett. How is she?” 

“ She is still awake, no need to talk about me as if I’m not” You spoke quietly, though to you it sounded loud. 

“ My apologies” Carlisle chuckled, “How do you feel?” 

“ I don’t feel anything, that’s the problem” You sighed.

“Alright-”

“ My sight had already been taken from me, Carlisle” Your voice didn’t quiver or hesitate, “ I can’t lose my mobility as well, please.“ 

Carlisle looked to Garrett before speaking again, “ What would you have me do then?” 

“ Garrett knows what I want” The silence afterward was heavy. There was no need to ask if you were sure, or if you knew what it would entail. Garrett knew you were serious, but he also knew that he couldn’t be the one to do it. He had only become vegan a few years ago. The taste of human blood, especially yours would send him into a frenzy, and Garrett would never forgive himself if he couldn’t stop. 

“Garrett” Carlisle was asking permission, he wouldn’t just turn someone else’s mate without their consent. 

Garrett nodded, “ I trust you, Carlisle.” 

“ This may hurt, I’m sorry” Carlisle apologized before leaning in. You didn’t feel the bite, but you sure felt the venom. It was as if your blood had turned to glass within your veins and then shattered into a million different pieces. Each and every one of those pieces then drove themselves deeper and deeper into the very mapping of your body. Garrett gripped your hand tightly as your back bent off the couch. He watched the muscles in your body tense and tears leak from your eyes.

Garrett looked to Carlisle solemnly, “Will she be able to see?” 

“I’m not sure,” Carlisle answered honestly, “ There are some things that not even venom can fix. Truth be told, I have no way of telling if the transformation will work.” 

“ It will, I told her it will” Garrett mumbled.

Carlisle’s lips pursed, “You know it isn’t up to us.” 

It took a full day for the venom to work its way through your body. Garrett sat by your side the whole time. Kate and Tanya stayed for the first few hours, but once the sisters realized that the transformation would work, they left. Everyone knew Garrett would want a moment alone with you when you awoke. 

When you finally did wake up, you didn’t bother to open your eyes. You had gotten so used to using your other senses that you were overwhelmed with how sharp they were. Every noise outside, from the birds chirping to the crunch of a hiker's boot that was acres away reverberated clearly throughout your ear. The fabrics of the couch beneath you felt like individual threads rather than twine that had been sewn together. Eventually, when you did open your eyes, a familiar stranger was there to greet you. You had never seen this man in your life, but you knew who he was. It didn’t take the auburn hair or golden eyes to know that he was Garrett, your Garrett. You reached out, a bit shakily, to touch his face. He was real, very real. You watched your hands meet the porcelain of his cheek. His skin crinkled under your palm as he smiled widely.

“Kate wasn’t kidding when she said you couldn’t get any paler, huh?” Your voice was even different, more melodious.

Garrett wanted to laugh, “ You’ve finally seen my face for the first time and that’s what you choose to say?” 

“Would you rather I list every physical feature of yours that I find intriguing?” You jest, “because I could’ve sworn you insisted that your appearance wasn’t important.” 

“It’s a relief to see that immortality didn’t take away her sass. I’m not sure we would’ve survived without it” Your eyes flickered to where Carmen’s voice sounded from. The brunette stood in the doorway with a smile just as warm as her voice. 

Your eyes lit up with joy, “Carmen, it’s wonderful to finally see you.” 

“ Oh come on, why does Carmen get a warm sentiment? I was the first person you saw-” 

You shot Garrett a look over your shoulder, “Hush up, you child.” 

It took not even a second to realize that Garrett had actually gone quiet. Both you and Carmen shot him puzzled looks. To which you received the same. Garrett's eyes were wide with confusion and his jaw was clenched tightly. He had indeed gone quiet, just as you told him. 

“ I think we’ve figured out your gift already” Carmen chuckled,  “ You’ll have to tell him to speak again.”

You let out a sarcastic snort, “And how would I do that?” 

Carmen moved to stand at your side. Her hands positioned your head to look at Garrett once more, “ Look in his eyes and tell him to speak.” 

You roll your eyes in disbelief before clearing your throat, “Alright, um..you may speak now.” 

“ How did you do that?” Garrett sputters the second his mouth opens, “Nevermind, I know how, but wow that’s….that’s kind of hot actually.” 

A laugh tumbles from your lips, “Only you would think that’s hot.”

“Not only is it hot, but it’s brilliant. Do you realize how much power your eyes now hold? I mean you made me do something with the slightest of eye contact” Garrett had moved to hold your face in his hands, his lips pressing gently beside each eye. 

“Not sure it’s something to brag about-”

Garrett scoffs, “ Oh please, if you won’t brag about it, then I will. I want everyone to know just how brilliant my woman is.” 

“Oh, your woman?” You gape in mock offense. Garrett hangs his head with a deep chuckle before attempting to correct himself. Carmen watches from the side with a smile on her face. Eyesight or not, you were still the same person, but the way your eyes refused to leave Garrett truly warmed her heart. The two of you continued to bicker as she backed away, leaving the two of you to explore your newfound gifts. Which you indeed did. The two of you used your newly bestowed abilities to travel the world. You were able to see so many things for the first time, and with Garrett by your side for all of it. Just like he would be for the rest of your eternal lives.

[myui-mo]

Hii! I'm also starting out on digital art but I have a big problem in doing lineart, would you please share us your wisdom of it if you will? 🙏 Thank you in advance!!

DIGITAL ART TIP #2 - Line art

Hoi!

Here are some tips on how I do my line art.

∘

STEP 1 - Using the stabilizer tool

The stabilizer or smoothing tool is an artist's best friend. It slows down your drawing speed, giving you more control and reducing shaky lines.

Almost every drawing program, whether free or paid, has this tool. You can search online to find out where it is in your program.

The left line was drawn without the stabilizer tool, while the right one was drawn with it. You can clearly see the difference.

Extra Tip: As an artist, I often redo lines multiple times, even when using the stabilizer. The undo button is extremely useful for achieving the best final result.

STEP 2 - Start drawing the first part of your line art

When I draw over my sketch, I usually keep the lines about the same size. It's just the first part, after all.

STEP 3 - Decide where the light is coming from in your drawing

Before you can start adding details to the line art, you need to decide where the light will be coming from for when you begin shading. In my case, the light is coming from above.

STEP 4 - Add line weight

Line art can look flat, but you can fix this by adding line weight. This means making some lines thicker where the shadows will be in your drawing.

In my case, I didn’t add line weight to the face because those parts will be colored black, so the line weight won’t be visible.

As you can see, the line art looks much more interesting now. It also helps when you start shading later.

∘

That's my tutorial! If you like the artwork in this, I'll soon be posting the finished work on my profile.

If you want to ask a question, or send in art for me to help you out with, here's a link to the original post!

Thank you!

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Wildflower pt 4

Pairing: Unrequited!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Fiance!Reader

Words: 2,279

You overhear some gossip. An ask is made and a direction is followed.

Tags: Mild age difference, fem!reader, heavy exposition, non-canon politics, original characters

<Previous - Next>

It had been both a hot morning and one full of action. Already, sore muscles grew sorer.

Shoes glanced against the grass, tiny bits of dew clinging to your ankles.

You marched easily, slowly as you made your way through the fields. Past long fronds and heavy rustling, you heard the raspy, muted tones of invested conversation. 

Besides you was a large cart with wooden wheels nearly the height of the place just above your hip, chalk-full of bales and barrels of both the dusty and fishy variety, respectively.

“Y’hear? With old man Harald and Frode?” There was an interested lilt to his voice that had you tilting your head ever-so-slightly away. You had no time for mingling or gossip. The clear words made their way over to you anyhow.

“‘ckh, how couldn’ I? They were shouting louder than Heaven in Hell.” 

You grimaced, pausing for a moment as a particularly tough breeze ran over you, brushing down fields like a hand down one side of a gorgeous fur coat, bowing and coming back up smoothly. In a much similar fashion, in that moment, some small, wet patches were rendered nothing more than crusted patches of sweat.

 It seemed that Duckmaw and Bjorner hadn’t been the only ones locked in battles of words.

Exhaling deeply for a moment, raking in the fresher air, past dusty yellow and drying greens twitching and shifting under the breeze, your eyes grazed over Saint Livary, with his hunched back and downy gray hair. He was skinny for a fisherman but very, very tall with quite the exotic name.

You weren’t particularly sure where it had come from, but it was probably Christian.

“You saw it happen, then!” You didn’t know the other one. You didn’t spend much time looking at him, his likeness only half-caught as you glanced away. 

He was tall and large enough to nearly dwarf the both of you though not as much of an intimidating presence as the Chief. His voice was nearly obscured not just by the sounds of distantly bleating sheep but also the sound of heavy chewing, the slight cracking of wood against teeth as they were picked at.

“Saw it happen? They were right up in my ear! It was my fish baskets they were arguin’ over- Who had the right to ‘em.” He shook his head out, long hairs twirling in the wind, “Well, I wasn’t sellin’!”

He barked out a laugh, “Those clansmen, I tell yeh.”

Your shoulder blades ached slightly, head tilted forwards at an awkward angle as your upper back was pressed flat against wood.

Yearningly, you thought of wide wooden basins and warm, slightly murky waters. You thought of freshly-washed skin and the feel of all the day’s hardships being washed away- unfortunately, you’d only your rags to look forward to tonight. Two rags and a bucket of cold water.

It was nothing a quick trip into the woods wouldn’t fix, though it seemed that the majority of Berk’s woodstockers were growing quite lazy. 

“You’ll be whistlin’ by a different tune once they start houndin’ you for yer woods.” He paused for a moment, “Woods and coals.” 

The shade felt like cool ambrosia soothing your skin. The break in your journey upwards was enough for your twinging lower back to deflate, the muscles loosening enough that you knew you would have some trouble getting started up again. 

You leaned closer. 

And, well, trouble was a long way off, you were sure… but, if there was anything to know, you would surely rather know it.

“Was the Jorgensons and the Thorstons before, wasn’ it?“

“Get off it- Harald’s an Ingerman.” Livary rasped, something smacking against what must have been the large, hollow horns of his metal helmet.

 You didn’t know of anything else that could make that sound, contracting sharply against the one that marked the shifting wiry shoulders and bag-like clothing. “That whole bit’s done and over with. Couldn’t find the papers.”

You leaned back, drooping down your ax with a heavy thunk.

 It stood on the ends of its blades for a moment before following you and leaning against the cart, wood clashing against wood,

It was only the expression of suspicion by the suspicious that would be able to raise the hairs on the necks of the suspect, so you didn’t bother to hide. While gossip was by nature secretive, the subjects of gossip were no secret and the Vikings of Berk were both bold and brash. It wasn’t worth the effort, anyhow; even if they knew you were there, they wouldn’t care much, and their chattering was nothing a pint at the Hall couldn’t earn you less than a coin.

“Pity. Made ‘emselves a whole show- was a mite interested. ‘Specially with ‘ol Gorm… That Gorm Halfdan knew how to make business interesting...”

“Gorm was a drunk. A waste of clean air.” Saint Livary barked out. “But- Ah, don’t look so disappointed yet, son. You ever know a Jorgenson who stayed out of it?”

You rolled your eyes, picking dirt out from under your nail with one hand, the other draped over the crook of your elbow, your ankles crossed.

The Jorgenson clan was a full one fueled mostly by ego and pride. They boasted of more of their accomplishments in war and coin than any other family. If you thought right, they might have already come.

It was nearing noon when you finally made your way back up to the house, past shoulder-height stone Vikings and up uneven rock-and-dirt paths. 

It felt later than noon, cool as it was, with shadows and strips of light stretching and marking the flooring, setting the stage for small, glowy bits of dust, which had somehow kicked up in the stillness of the room, now slowly settling down under intense beams of warm light.

Cloth caught over cloth as you brushed against the slightly splintered wooden door frame of the Haddock house. 

You could feel threads pulling against each other, sensation pulling at your arms the same way it did running your hands against raw, matted sheep’s wool, listening to the sound of a hard nail dragging against dusty stone.

A measly loaf of bread, not even enough to dwarf the width of your own hand, lay discarded on a small, cracked plate by the side of one large, hairy, freckled elbow.

 It was a poor excuse for a snack and an even poorer excuse for a meal, but Berkian society was one fueled by war rations. As of late, the meals had been sparser and the stews thinner than you’d ever seen them.

Once, a long time ago, you had a measly cookbook. It had been lost alongside your first pot and a plate you’d hidden away in the fields to make and hoard your own food. You’d already known how to cook some small things by the time you’d arrived. Unfortunately, the knowledge you’d had had been sparse and much of it had been lost to time. 

Still, you were sure your cooking skills were still much better than anyone else on the island.

“Chief,” You greeted, waiting still and patiently.

Dwarfing the chair to his back the same way the hoof of a sheep looked to an ant, the Chief leaned over a small table, his head in his hands, bear fur spilling through crooks of his arms and over wooden top, mingling with the seams of his clothing and twining itself in with foreign threads in a way that made it look nearly sewn-in.

The room immediately felt fuller and the rest of the world much, much smaller.

His hands were large enough to fully grasp your skull, calluses rough enough to slice papercuts into the softest part of your arms, his forehead hidden by a wide-horned helmet and a generations-old thick, furred coat donning his back in a way that made his giant self all the more imposing.

A few, measly scattered scrolls lay by his elbows, slightly worn and yellowed, pages crumbling and delicate like the ends of a daisy flower you'd once held between small fingers. 

You’d much rather be messing with your notebook, relishing in the feel of old leather and twine, feeling nearly spellbound, flipping pages with casual abandon. 

 Onto the Chief’s papers, in clear, old handwriting, were runes, clearly inscribed using a mix of the liquids and pastes found in the intestines and guts of dragons, killed, turned inside out and disposed of.

 It left a very specific sheen- for many years, so long it was practically tradition, dragons have been used by the higher clans to make their inks and seal their woods, mixed with dyes and blood and plants and plastered onto paper.

It was a luxury for some. 

There wasn’t enough wealth on Berk for there to be anything like Jarls- they lacked the excessive gold and silk clothes, crowns and castles and whatever else might dictate such a fancy name, rules born from tales from distant lands… Or, perhaps, that had just never been the way the people on Berk did things. Even still, there lay many discrepancies between the people. In most cases, status was marked by smaller things, such as this. 

You stilled for a long moment, waiting. 

It wasn’t so often you saw the Chief in such a state, light and shadow casting over him, washing away his color, making the thick lines over his face look nearly skeletal.

“‘Been a long night, lass,” He grumbled deeply.

You hummed something terse, face blank as he sat up, pushing back his chair with his back as if he hardly noticed it, moving back with a thick, wooden scrape against the hut’s floor. 

You were an easy ear to rant at, your silence taken as permission, your person first in line to fall victim to loose words and heavy hearts.

You weren’t surprised by his answer. In fact, you felt somewhat eager.

“The Jorgensons-” His words spoke nothing of your intrepid fiance nor any of his unVikingly obsessions, his head full of odd wheels and cogs- Your fiance was quite noteworthy, though only because of his failures. It was a feat for anyone to outstrip him in that manner, but if it had to be anyone, it would have been Jorgenson. 

You cleared your throat awkwardly, still standing at full attention. You kept your eyes focused on him still, a beast named ‘Curiosity’ glowering from a place far behind them. 

You might have been silent, tamed, but you were no less hungry for it.

“They’re land-hungry. That lot knows better than to get ahead of themselves.” He went on, large arms stilling, boxed fingers coming up to brush against his large mustache. “...They’ll stop the trouble, one of these days.”

“I’ll hit the books,” You offered. The library was always open in time like this. Abhorrently, peacefully quiet. Always empty. Things to read, to learn, full enough to keep you occupied for hours.

He looked at you appreciatively, appraisingly. He’d never found a reason not to. 

You took to hard work with ease and did not complain if you’d even bothered to speak a word. 

 Of course, he’d only taken you in as a favor, a response to a plea from a stranger. He’d probably never expected so much of you. He probably didn’t expect anything from you now, though it was a rare occasion in which you offered to help with any politicking.

His words were gruff, “You’re good help, lass.”

You nodded, something in your chest feeling- it wasn’t necessarily good or bad, pride or pleasure. Still, it was bright, and the feeling was a very, very rare thing, slightly dampened. Under normal circumstances, you’d never allow it, though even the most hardy plants needed rain. 

As you turned to leave, you hid your grimace.

You crumpled new paper between shaky and to let it fall to the floor, knowing more than ever what it felt like to pull in the heavy weights of dewey tears- Of course, the boy- you’d rather not be his carer, so it was just fine. You hardly liked him at all.

You'd always known you could do things- you just hadn't always known how to go about them. But…

You stared at the crumpled piece of paper on the floor, small fists clenched around the body of your skirt, dark shadow of your small, curtain-sectioned-off sleeping place under the stairs making egg-ey white look that much more gray.

Messy scribbles and your neater, still clumsy handwriting, some small correction, a small, hesitant smile, a bold rebuke, a broken bond, made not by either small hand but one large voice- It hurt.

You had hardly a clue in the world how to go about things here, where everything was so harsh and bleak and cruel. Maybe it was better if you washed your hands of him.

“Lass… better not,” He said, voice nothing like it had been before, sounding tough and displeased. It was stiff, threatening flat tones, awkward, far from the comforting baritone he’d most probably intended.

You did your best to keep your mouth still even as your hands threatened to shake, looking over at him with watery, ornery eyes.

You stared at his large hands, pressed aside worn, dirty green-gray cloth, his crouched knees, his shoulders that barely fit halfway through your makeshift ‘doorway.’

He scared you twice as much as he’d ever been able to ease your spirits.

You kicked the small, crumpled paper aside with the toe of your boot as if you might be able to hide it. You knew you couldn’t.

It was fine.

You’d only just been trying to help.

[dumpsterfire-allavita]

Context- I had been commissioned for this piece. Being in a financial pickle I picked it up and immediately set to work on it. Since I’m in need of money I put my all into the request to make sure it checked every box they could need. It turned out amazing I think! However I just checked our chat where I put the almost finished piece to find their account deleted. What’s worse is I had given them an update without my signature on it since it was unfinished and all…so if you see it floating around please message me!

Without further adeu~ the piece!

╔══*.·:·✧ ☎️ ✧·:·.*══╗

Information

I was messaged by the user Freaky (later changed to Dust) for the commission of their two Characters Brimstone and Karma. Ecstatic we began consultation!!

They decided on a photo reference from the anime “Soul Eater”. They liked the old anime style and requested their piece would be similar. That meant a full body with simple background but a lot of technique put into the old anime style! Ofc I wouldn’t shy away from the challenge (since my bills won’t shy away from me- the apple did not work on the doctor….no matter how hard I threw it)

Upon requesting their budget they said between 130-200$ which worked fine with me. I always tend to under charge anyhow. Due to my needs this time was no different. I assured they would receive updates to let them know how the piece was going and that I would collect their input on any fixes needed. They agreed and without further wait I began.

『•🪱•✎•🪱•』

[ T o o l s ]

✦ Cheap sketchpad

✦ Mechanical Pencil 7.0 lead

✦ My Phone (to send to the iPad)

✦ Fathers IPad (Im broke don’t judge)

✦ Procreate

✦ Color Pencil procreate brush pack

✦ Lineart procreate brush pack

✦Paint procreate brush pack

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ˏˋ°⁀✎ 🫎 P R O C E S S 🫎 *ੈ✩‧₊˚ˏˋ°⁀✎

Once saving the many provided refs I began by creating character reference sheets. Due to the customer not being artistic they provided me with several other commissioned pieces of their characters. Not all…looked the same… so I created these sheets to compile the parts that fit the personalities portrayed. Then I checked in with the user to figure out which features looked most like what they imagined for the characters.

Then I continued with the base sketch of the pose. The original reference for the pose didn’t entirely fit the characters so I chose to tweak it. I think I like the way they interact on the piece. I even made them doing rock paper scissors if you pay close enough attention! Karma lost but well…Brimstone would get what was coming for it later lol.

After all that it was finally digital art time!!! So I put my color references sent to me before adding the anime ref and my character refs. On the iPad I started with adding the details of the characters and sketching the pieces in further.

When that looked good I shifted the background a little to see it all before doing the motorcycle. (This is the first one I’ve ever drawn too- I know it’s funky! Don’t look too close)

Once the sketch was confirmed I began lineart. The title was changed to say Brimstone in big and in Japanese it reads “Freak Karma” the user of the customer and their second character.

Following that was color blocking which absolutely murdered me! I simply started with a big blob and did Alpha lock. Then I continued to block out base colors. Probably the worst experience of my life…goodness..

After I did a big dark brown layer with the opacity lowered for the look of a darker environment. From there I lightly erased the spots for lighting.

Then it was additional coloring and shading to the color block layer followed by additional erasing on the shadow layer. Building it up until I was satisfied.

Finally I did two layers- a layer for specific color lighting such as the flames reflection and the color to their skulls and a layer for the black and white liner.

All that was left was adding noise, Bloom, and a little bit of halftones to achieve the desired look.

With everything done I added my signature into the mirror on the bike!

ALL THIS ON ONLY 4 LAYERS! Due to the sheer size of the canvas (6000 pixels by 5000 pixels (ish)) I was only able to have 4 MAX layers. So pain…

🪳✨ Time ✨🪳

//this is the longest I’ve ever spent on a piece btw! (These are timed and rounded down to the simplest form. So these are all slightly UNDER what I actually did.)

Ref sheets 🎨 45 min

Layout Sketch 🔆 24.3 min

Digital Sketch 🛏️ 1 hour 30 min

Lineart 🍿 8 hours

Color Blocking 🥲 23 hours

Lighting + Final touches 👍 1 hour 25 min

Total- WAY TO FREAKING LONG! This has 26,543 strokes on it!!!!

Anywho! I hope you enjoy the piece as I sure as heck have not due to my suffering and now lack of money that I now have to try and find elsewhere with bills gripping my now every thought.

If you’d like to commission me I’ll have to ask for a base payment upfront now due to this situation. I am unable to spend such time to provide my very best just to be left when I truly need the money.

Thank you for your time!

[neatfrog]

Suddenly remembered this old tumblr post and it was so Blitzø-coded that I had to make this lmao

(*EDIT: redid this because I really wasn’t satisfied with the original. But didn’t feel like shading again lol)

EDIT 2: omg I forgot Blitzø’s forehead marking and just now noticed 🤦🏻‍♀️ I’ll fix it another time lol

Based on this:

[worm-in-a-trenchcoat]

So as I’m looking at the dolls my coworker got me, I noticed that the Clawdeen they got me looks different compared to the one I got when they first came out.

Which isn’t a problem at all, I actually find it so interesting so I’m gonna talk about it lol.

My original Clawdeen is on the left and the one my coworker got me is on the right. You can definitely tell there’s a difference just by looking at them.

On the new doll- Her face is overall slimmer, her eyes are a darker shade of brown and her pupils are rounder rather than being kinda cat-like, her makeup is darker and bolder, and her skin tone and hair are slightly darker than the original doll.

This doll was made in Indonesia, I have no idea where my old doll was made because I didn’t think to check when I got her and that box is long gone in the trash lol. But I’m guessing it was either made in a different country or this newer doll is just an updated version of her core doll.

Either way, I like the new doll way better than the original!

It’s like they fixed everything that bugged me when she first came out lol. Her OG doll has always given me more Howleen vibes, but not she looks more like Clawdeen to me.

[ultrajtb]

Okay so my biggest problems with how the Steve Saga base color steves were designed are that they don’t match and they aren’t as vibrant as I’d like, sometimes even looking kinda muddy. Green and Yellow especially.

So I’ve redesigned all 5 to ease my brain, and will be adding descriptions of how I’d change them lore-wise (excuse me if the ideas seem jumbled, I’m not very good at compiling my thoughts coherently)

First there’s Red Steves

In terms of design I basically just brightened it up and made it shinier

The original lore had them be incredibly dumb. While it’s a fun gag, I would prefer if they were closer to average

So in my idea of a streamlined Red Steve, they’d still be pyrokinetic with anger issues, but they wouldn’t be boneheads. The original had them using redstone as a power source, but it was never really explained, so to expand on that, their ability to create fire demands they consume mass amounts of fuel to function. So lots of food and burnable items can help them. Alternatively, redstone blocks contain a similar level of energy that they will feed on to fuel themselves more efficiently.

Next Blue Steves

Honestly the best of the original designs. Once again, basically just brightened it up and made it shinier to match the more overhauled ones.

So, these guys are hydrokinetic as well as the smartest, strongest, and wisest of the 5. Not much I want to change there. I do want to add on to them that they have a level of hubris comparable to the SCU Red Steves, which does lead some to less than desirable fates

Now the first majorly changed design, Green Steves

The original green steve design always bothered me because it was the most different from the other base colors. In short, it’s just way too bright. The green just doesn’t really pop. So I actually darkened it a bit so that it matches the other colors better.

We never really learned much about the green steves in the steve saga. From what I know, they were all fairly timid and pretty weak.

Obviously I’d like to at least tweak that. So my ideal version would have them be Chlorokinetic, meaning they can create and control plants. I feel this could give them a bit more character by having them be more connected to nature.

Now for my personal favorite of the redesigns, Yellow Steves why doesn’t tumblr have a yellow text option 😭

My gripes with the Steve Saga design are that it has a lot more contrast than the others, has weirdly colored highlights, and is just a sickly shade of yellow. So I fixed the contrast and highlights up and made it a more golden yellow

These guys were known for being electrokinetic speedsters in the original. Honestly I like that about them, don’t really wanna change anything there. I do think it’d be interesting to make them drawn to metals because conducting electricity, and weak to resisters like wood since electricity can’t flow through stuff like that. They’re the only ones who actually fight using lighting. The other 4 will at most have lightning while using their own abilities, but won’t be able to use that lightning for actual combat

Lastly, we have Purple Steves

So the original was missing some highlights, and I didn’t really like the shade of purple. Pretty easy fixes

The power these guys were known for was being able to teleport basically anywhere at will. Pretty cool power, not gonna change it.

Personality-wise we only saw one in the series and he was brain damaged for most of it. I think a good general trait for them is that they don’t like staying in on place for long, both because they lack any real attacking abilities and they just instinctively want to teleport to new places as a means of avoiding people who’d want to harm them.

Lmk your thoughts and what you think I could do differently with the ideas or if you have your own that you think could be cool to add. I will be keeping an eye out and will add anything that I like (with credit obviously). I have some more complex thoughts for the upcoming prominent steves so keep an eye out for that.

Have a good day/night!

[floofysmallbob]

rockin’ redesign for the best girl!

let’s fucking gooooooo it’s finally time for Jirou Kyoka to shine

I really really like this one, it’s got to be my favorite, and the most detailed, although that’s probably because I’m very much biased towards Jirou AND I’m alt, but still

So here’s Auscultate Hero: HeartBeats!

eeeeeee

actually punk/alt

leather jacket/pants for protection

brighter, patterned shirt

studded jacket

the jacket originally just came with the heart on the left breast and the back label of “Earphone Jack”, everything else was added by her and not the costume manufacturers

elbow/shoulder/knee pads(also studded!)

fanny pack bc I didn’t give her any storage

protective coverings for her earjacks

same as with Ojiro, her quirk relies on her (frankly kinda fragile) earjacks, you sure as hell don’t want them getting injured

fishnet gloves

speakers on wrist amplify in all directions instead of just directly forward

combat boots

detachable speakers

not visible but there are also speakers on the back of her boots

speakers embedded into the soles

mic on the headphones that can amplify her voice to the speakers instead of her heartbeat if need be

COLD WEATHER VERSION:

longer jacket

longer shirt sleeves(not visible)

higher collar

thicker pants

darker earjack coverings

gloves

mesh turtleneck underlayer

headphones double as earmuffs

WARM WEATHER VERSION:

jacket has been replaced by a vest

looser shirt

shorter boots

oops I didn’t fix the shading on the boots but oh well

lighter earjack coverings

[lady-pug]

In Sickness And In Health - In Sickness

Summary: The kid fell ill while Din is away and you feel absolutely hopeless trying to help him, but nothing seems to work. You get progressively more worried the more he cries, and it's driving you insane. Hopefully Din will get back soon.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Word count: 3,8k

Warnings: description of sickness (also Grogu throws up), small injuries (scratches)

Notes: this one is actually a two-shot, in which both parts complement each other. This was a fun one to write. Do keep in mind that Grogu is sick in this one, so there are descriptions of feeling ill and throwing up (so if this is something that makes you uncomfortable please feel free to skip ahead). As always, if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. I hope you enjoy this one!

Reader’s gender not specified.

Next part | Previous part | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Crying. That’s all you could hear and all your mind could focus on. You even felt like crying yourself. The kid had been desperately wailing for hours already and no matter what you did he wouldn’t stop. 

Din had been gone for almost two days now, away gathering information that could be useful in finding the kid’s people. While you had originally wanted to go with him, he had deemed the place and the people he was meeting too dangerous for the kid, and asked that you stay on the Crest and look after him while he was gone (“Just like the good old days, huh?” you had joked, to which Din answered with a brief chuckle).

Almost immediately after Din had left the kid started growing fussy. You hadn’t given it too much thought as it was pretty normal behavior for him everytime his guardian left, missing him as much as you did, and had tried to distract him with some coloring and some food. Your suspicion that something was indeed wrong started to arise when the kid refused to eat the jerky you offered him, and continued whimpering. After all, this little boy loved food almost more than anything. You decided that maybe a nap would make him feel better and put him in his little hammock above Din’s bunk, where he fell asleep almost immediately.

The silence on the ship lasted only a few hours, which you had used to fix some wiring under the navigation controls, before the kid woke up wailing. You scrambled from under the controls, almost hitting your head in the process, and ran to the hull to check on him. Once you opened the bunk’s door the sight before you made your heart clench with concern.

The kid was bawling his eyes out, the little hammock swinging back and forth with the force of his sobs, his skin a paler shade of green, almost grayish. 

“Oh, my love” you picked him up gently, but his squirming nearly made you drop him, so you cradled him a little more firmly “What’s wrong?”

His little robe felt wet under your palms, his skin damp with sweat. You gently laid the back of your hand on his forehead, confirming that he was indeed quite warm.

“You’re ill, is that what’s bothering you?” you cooed at him, trying to calm him down “Let’s see how we can make you feel better, yes?”

You took him back to the cabinet that served as a kitchen pantry.

“When I was little, old lady Aola often took care of me when I was sick. She would help Porcellus make this amazing cream of womp rat soup that would get me back on my feet in no time.” you sat him down on a counter, his crying never ceasing “Let’s see if we can improvise something similar for you.”

Improvise, as it turned out, was a huge understatement. It was quite hard to store fresh food on the Razor Crest, so you and Din mainly kept canned essentials and food that could be frozen and subsequently defrosted. The rare times you managed to come across fresh goods, they were quickly consumed before they could spoil. Therefore you found out you didn’t have the main ingredient to make soup for the kid: womp rat meat.

“Okay, not to worry, we can figure something out, right kid?”

You didn’t receive a response, the little boy only kept on crying. The more he sobbed, the more distressed you felt, fumbling with the ingredients to finish the soup quicker. More than once his crying spiked a little louder, almost making you chop a finger off. 

“There we go” you said once you finished, pouring some of the soup on a tiny bowl for him “You’ll start to get better after you eat.”

Once the soup had cooled off a little you handed him the bowl and turned back to get some for yourself. What you did not expect, however, was for the kid to grow even more fussy, screaming even louder, and use his magic powers to send the entire pan flying towards you.

“Maker, kid!” you yelped, the soup burning your skin even through your clothes as it ran down the front of your shirt. Some had splashed on your exposed arms, the skin there starting to redden.

That seemed to calm him down somewhat. In between hiccups, the little boy started giggling.

“Yeah, this’ what does it, huh?” he laughed even more at the pained grimace on your face “Laugh at my misery, kid, and see what happens.” you smirked at him, no malice behind it.

You went back to your cot to grab a somewhat clean shirt to replace the one soaking with soup. You winced as you tried to peel it off, the course material sticking to your injured skin. Once you were presentable you went back to the kid to find him quietly sipping his soup.

“Feeling better now that you let it all out of your system?” you asked him, to which he only gurgled in response.

After cleaning up the mess the kid had made while he finished eating you decided to check his temperature. Placing your palm against his head, you noticed that he felt even warmer than before. 

“This doesn’t feel good.” 

Grabbing the ship’s medkit you retrieved the infrared thermometer, but not before noticing a single stimshot sitting there. You stared at the small green item at the bottom of the kit, pondering your next steps. You were hesitant about using it, not knowing anything about the kid’s species and how his system would react to the stim. Besides, the dose was designed for adults. Maker, it was strong enough to use on a wookie, what would happen if you gave it to a baby? I’ll leave it as a last resort, you decided.

The number displayed on the thermometer was high, but you couldn’t tell exactly how high for the kid’s standards. 

“I guess we’ll just have to monitor your fever.” you smiled down at him, realizing his eyes were getting a little droopy “How about we give you a nice, lukewarm bath and put you down to sleep, what do you say?”

Compared to his fussiness from earlier, the kid was incredibly calm while you washed and dried him. He was practically asleep by the time you put him down on his hammock again.

You decided a cold shower would do you good. Upon closer inspection, now that you weren’t in such a rush, the skin of your chest and stomach was quite red. There were even some small blisters where the hot soup had come in direct contact with the skin of your arms. If you remembered correctly, there wasn’t much bacta left so you decided against using it, as Din could need it once he was back. The cold water helped soothe the burns.

Hopping out of the shower you sat down on your cot with a datapad to do some research. Surely someone on the holonet knew something about a species with green skin and big pointy ears, right? But you came back empty handed, as not a single mention to anything similar to the kid’s kind could be found. You quickly changed your approach and settled upon browsing through blogs with tips for first-time parents on how to take care of ill babies. A few tips were actually pretty useful.

This whole day had been very exhausting and had left you completely drained. Checking the chrono you realized it was starting to get dark outside. After checking on the kid one last time, you decided to go to bed early.

You managed to get only a couple of hours of shuteye before you jolted back to consciousness by the kid screaming bloody murder. 

“Oh, no.” you groaned tiredly as you got up to tend to him “I’m coming, my love.” you whispered even though he clearly couldn’t hear you.

When you opened the door to Din’s bunk you panicked for a second not seeing the baby on his hammock. Instead you found him lying on his back on Din’s bed, his little arms swinging in the air as if he couldn’t get up.

“Oh, kid, what happened?!” you asked as you picked him up and cradled him close to your chest. A second later you stiffened, and if you could facepalm you would: it was pretty obvious, he must have squirmed too much and fallen from his hammock. You were so tired you were starting to lose your coherence.

The kid gripped the front of your shirt with all his might and nuzzled into your collarbone, his crying quieting a little but never stopping. You placed the back of your hand on his forehead.

“You’re still hot.”

You fumbled with the thermometer, almost dropping it in the process and measured his temperature. It was practically the same as the last time you checked. 

“At least it’s not going up.” 

You started walking around the hull bouncing him in your arms, trying to get him to settle down again. You tried shushing him, humming quietly, singing a lullaby. You were so desperate to help him however you could that you even went as far as putting a bucket over your head and impersonating Din to see if that would calm him down.

“I can bring you in warm” you said, your voice forcedly deeper and lower “or I can bring you in cold.”

That makes him blow a quiet tiny giggle between hiccups, but otherwise did not stop his crying.

“I don’t know what to do.” you whimpered, frustrated tears brimming in your eyes “How can I help you?” 

The kid kept on crying for a few more minutes before he stopped all of a sudden. You looked at him quizzically and for a moment you hoped, you prayed that this was it. Before you could even react he gurgled and puked all over the front of your shirt.

“Of course.” you sighed.

That seemed to do it for him, apparently having been woken up by a sore stomach. He instantly quieted down.

“Let’s see if you can keep something else down.” there you went to prepare him more food. Now with a full stomach again you put him down to sleep again, this time directly on Din’s bed so he wouldn’t fall off and hurt himself, and headed to the shower. Again. Then you went to bed. Again.

This went on for two days: every few hours the kid would wake up wailing, you would tend to him and more often than not you would have to get back to the shower. It got to the point where you had no more clean shirts and had resorted to hunting for one of Din’s to wear. His fever was not going down, but at least it wasn’t going up (or that’s what you kept telling yourself). By the beginning of the first afternoon you gave up trying to sleep, running exclusively on caf and willpower (which, to be fair, was dimming every passing moment you stayed awake a little longer). You were practically swaying on your feet. 

You were adamant on not using the stim, too scared of doing more harm than good. Instead you’ve been trying to bring him back to full health with only soup and lukewarm baths and lots of water and rest, but that was not seeming to do the trick.

You briefly considered calling Din on the comm he had, but it was for emergencies only. But wasn’t this an emergency? You were hesitant on calling him and worrying him when he was so far away, or worse, possibly giving away his position in a vulnerable moment. So you resorted to doing this on your own.

The kid had just quieted down in your arms, nuzzling further into your embrace. You let yourself hope for just a moment that he was finally going to get better. After settling him down on Din’s bed, you sat down on your own cot to try and read some manuals on the Razor Crest’s navigation system and hopefully learn how to properly fly the ship just in case. The kid was the quietest he ever was this past couple of days, his nap lasting a lot longer than before. Thank the Maker, you sighed in relief. Even though your eyelids were getting heavier by the second, you forced yourself to stay awake just a while longer. He might need me, you argued, I need to be ready. Just in case this isn’t over, I need to be there for him if he-

You were harshly woken by a piercing scream and the floor vibrating. Disorientated, you checked the chrono and cursed as you realized a few hours had gone by since you put the kid down to sleep. Kriff, I must have dozed off.

Standing up on unsteady feet you felt the whole ship shaking. Reaching for the bunk, you slid the door open to find the kid screaming his little lungs out, his little arms flailing around. He must be the one making the ship move with his powers.

“Hey kid, what’s wrong?” you asked, reaching to check his forehead “Kriff, you’re burning up!”

Grabbing the thermometer, you measured his temperature. It was high, a lot higher than it was before. You silently cursed yourself for falling asleep, having missed when his temperature started to rise.

“Oh, Maker, kid.” your eyes started stinging from unshed tears “I’m so sorry, I should have been taking better care of you, I’m-”

A sob got stuck in your throat. You were absolutely desperate and also so frustrated with your inability to make the kid feel better, what would Din say if he saw you now? This was why he brought you along, one of the reasons he hired you in the first place, what would he think of you if you couldn’t even do your job right? And the kid! He was hurting, that absolutely broke your heart, and there was nothing you could do but hopelessly watch. And you were so very tired.

No.  

You refused to give up yet. The kid needed you. He needed you and you were the only one who could take care of him now.

With newfound determination, you cleaned your face where a few traitorous tears had slipped down your cheeks and grabbed the medkit. You were going to use the stimshot. After retrieving a small blade from Din’s weapon stash and an empty cup, you scooped the baby up in your arms before sitting on the ground in the middle of the hull.

Using the sharp blade, you carved a tiny hole on the tip of the pneumatic dispenser that held the stimulant, just enough to be able to pour most of the liquid inside the cup, without damaging the pumping mechanism. With just a small dose inside the syringe, you held onto the kid and tried raising one of his sleeves.

When he finally caught on to what you were doing, he screamed and cried even more desperately than before, wiggling in your arms trying to get away. All of a sudden white hot stinging pain erupted in your arms, as the kid quite literally tried to claw his way out of your grasp, prompting you to hold him even tighter, while also trying not to hurt him in the process.

“I know, I know, love” you huffed, your voice strained with pain “but this is for your own good.” you ended your sentence and immediately plunged the syringe in his little arm. 

He screamed, your heart breaking for him, but as the medicine was pumped into his bloodstream he slowly calmed down. 

“Okay, this seems to have worked.” you sighed “Let’s check, shall we?”

The thermometer said that his temperature was indeed going down. Waiting a few minutes you checked again and again, realizing it had indeed lowered quite a bit, but had eventually stagnated on a temperature still high enough to be considered a fever.

“I’m going to have to do this again, alright kid?” he cooed in response, his eyes starting to shut from exhaustion “I’m sorry.”

You very carefully poured another small dose back inside the dispenser and administered it in his arm again, him barely squealing. After checking his temperature again just to be sure you realized it had lowered and he was safe again. He settled in your arms, nuzzling into your collarbone, and instantly fell asleep.

With the kid still in your arms, you carefully scooted back to near Din’s bunk, but you had no strength left in you to actually get up and set him in bed. Instead you just slumped against the wall, your head tilted back as you let out a sigh. A sigh turned into two, which turned into small hiccups, which in turn turned into full blown sobbing. Your whole body shook with the intensity of it, tears of frustration and of tiredness steadily falling and accumulating on the back of your hand where you were biting into in order not to let out any sounds that could potentially wake him up.

You looked down at the green child in your arms, his face so peaceful, if only slightly paler than usual, and smiled softly at him. The sight of him no longer distressed was enough to calm you. Without even attempting to clean the tear tracks from your face, you slumped fully into the wall, letting a much overdue slumber overtake you.

Din slowly made his way back to the Crest, almost dragging his feet. Obviously, the man he had sought out to meet had required him to do some maker awful task to, in the end, not even have the information he asked for.

“Jedi are hard to find these days, Mando. Even harder than mandalorians.” he had said, which made Din clench his fists really hard in order not to just beat the guy to a pulp. But that actually made him stop and rethink his actions. 

With the stunt this weirdo just pulled, he realized he couldn’t trust just anyone in the galaxy. No one other than mandalorians. While, yes, mandalorians were hard to come across nowadays, especially after The Great Purge of Mandalore, maybe they could help find a Jedi somewhere, as mandalorians tended to have lots of important connections all over the galaxy (it saddened him to think that he could no longer rely on his Tribe as he didn’t know where most of them were, and it saddened him even more to admit it was his fault they were scattered around).

So, while very tired and desperate for a shower and to hop into bed, he was very eager to get home to you and the kid and tell you all about his new plan, to search for mandalorians. He already had an idea where to start. Wait. Home. Since when had he begun associating the Crest with home? Before it was just ‘the ship’. Now though…

When the ship came to view he sighed in relief and content. While the ramp lowered, however, he started getting a weird feeling in his chest, that something wasn’t quite right. Stepping inside the Crest only made his worry grow: the hull was a mess, it honestly looked like a hurricane had swept over the place and, worst of all, his weapons cabinet was open. And the place was quiet; it wasn’t usually this quiet in the middle of the day with an over energetic kid around.

He unholstered his blaster and carefully walked around looking for you. He didn’t have to search for long: near his bunk, a few steps away from a mess of things (a blade of his, he noted, next to a spilled over cup of a viscous green fluid), you were slumped against the wall, your knees bent close to your chest, slightly falling to one side, with your head hung down.

Din rushed forward and cupped your cheeks, checking you over for any injuries. The first thing he noticed was that the bags under your eyes looked slightly more pronounced, making your face look more hollow. Then he noticed the scratches on your forearms, blood beginning to dry, accompanied by small blisters. His face scrunched up in worry and anger as he wondered what had happened while he was away, while he wasn’t here to protect you. His fussing over you made you stir.

“Hm, Din?” you asked in a small voice, your eyes cracking open to look at him.

“Hey, Cyar’ika.” he almost whispered back “It’s me. Who did this to you?”

“Wha’…?”

“Who did this” he gripped one of your arms carefully “to you?”

“The kid.” 

That made him still completely.

“The kid?”

“He was ill.”

Only then did he notice the small green lump resting between your torso and knees, carefully cradled against your chest, snoring softly. That’s when it clicked. The kid had probably kept you awake and on your feet for a while looking after him. He probably got fussy and accidentally hurt you while you were trying to take care of him.

“Oh, Cyar’ika. When was the last time you had a proper night of sleep?” 

“Dunno.” your words were slurred “Before you left, I guess.”

Even if you couldn’t see it, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have come back.”

“He needed me.” you said decisively, before rambling almost self-consciously “You were busy, didn’t wan’ worry you. I-” you sighed and gave up trying to explain “He needed me.”

He felt his heart swell on his chest. You exhausted yourself because you put the kid’s safety and well-being, and his own peace of mind, over your own needs. The love he felt for you only grew even more.

“Come on” he said while sliding an arm under your knees and the other behind your back, your head resting on his chestplate “Let’s get you to bed.”

While he carefully laid you down he took note of your attire, his cheeks warming when he realized you were wearing one of his shirts, sleeves rolled halfway up your injured forearms (what can he say, he found forearms of any kind very attractive).

You rolled in your side, your eyes focusing on your surroundings.

“This isn’t my bed.”

“No,” he said, sweeping a stray strand of hair away from your eyes “it’s mine.”

“But-”

“No buts. Sleep.”

You sighed contentedly, snuggling the kid close to your chest, falling asleep almost instantly.

Din stared at the sight before him, a shy smile hanging on his lips under the helmet: you, curled up on his bunk, holding the kid close. It warmed his chest inside.

Yeah, he thought. He was home.