#even if its a little doodle my brain kept putting art block in front of it 😭

[bonecuisine]

ODD railao yuri but make them lizards <3

This idea originally was a joke shared over messages with @helsensm ...but it turned into a real drawing I have now made IAHWJSJD

They are both new mexico whiptail lizards, this species specifically because they are known as "lesbian lizards" due to only being female :)

Here's some more information on them for anyone curious!

https://www.inaturalist.org/taxa/194096-Aspidoscelis-neomexicanus

https://animalia.bio/new-mexico-whiptail/1000

[ambersky0319]

Remus ducks out because of how everyone else makes him feel, and by the time they notice, it's because Deceit is panicking. Patton tries to say it's fine that he's gone, that he was only bad for Thomas, untill Roman grows sick and looses his color. Deceit tries to leave to find Remus but Patton tries to put it off thinking Roman will suddenly get better.while that happens Logan leaves and journeys into the falling apart imagination, to find a young Remus crying, yelling out for Roman -Rayne

Warnings: Unsympathetic Patton, Minor blood(it’s literally brought up once in very very little detail), lmk if there’s anything I should add!

Masterpost 

———————————–

It had been a happy day.

The sun was shining through their windows from Roman’s part of the Imagination, Patton was making lunch for everyone, Logan and Virgil were having a light debate about something that really didn’t matter while Roman doodled in his sketchbook.

Roman barely even noticed himself that he was starting to feel a bit off. It could have been the fact he didn’t eat breakfast, so he just pushed aside his inability to come up with anything interesting as just his brain saying he needed food. No one noticed Roman’s occasional shift and grimace or the way he looked slightly too pale.

They ate their lunch and continued with their activities, except Roman only felt worse after he had eaten. He doesn’t say anything as he moves on from drawing in his sketchbook to working on the script for their next video. But his hand trembles over the notebook and he feels chills roll down his back despite the house being fairly warm. Roman bites his lip, trying to force his hands to steady, though he only fails. The living room is fairly empty now though, Logan had escaped to his room to work on schedules, Patton was cleaning the kitchen, and Virgil was napping on the opposite side of the couch. So no one noticed Roman only growing worse and worse. And Roman just assumed it was one of his off days.

No one noticed, at least, until late afternoon.

Deceit had rushed into the light commons, looking behind every piece of furniture and swearing profusely when he didn’t find what he was looking for. Deceit didn’t acknowledge that he startled Virgil or that Patton had scolded him for cursing.

“Deceit, what’s got your snakes all tangled?” Roman asked when Deceit had checked behind their TV. Deceit’s eyes snapped to him and somehow grew even wider.

“Roman? What’s wrong with you?” Roman frowned when Deceit didn’t answer, so he turned his head a bit too quickly and huffed. The action, however, made Roman feel a bit nauseous, and he refrained from reaching up to cover his mouth. He was fine!

“Nothing, just an off-”

“Oh my God, Roman you’re turning gray-” Virgil was the first to point it out, scrambling over on the couch to get to the princely side. Patton was suddenly in the living room upon hearing this.

“What’s all the ruckus kiddos?”

Deceit just shook his head. “I need to find Remus- this isn’t- fuck this isn’t good,” Deceit made a beeline for the stairs, but Patton blocked his way.

“Deceit, what’s going on?” Patton kept getting in Deceit’s path any time Deceit attempted to pass him, and the dishonest side let out a frustrated growl.

“Patton there’s no time!”

“If you just told us-”

“Remus is fucking missing, and Roman is suffering because of it! What’s not clear to you?”

“So your solution is to go invade the Imagination? Roman’s fine! And I’m sure Remus is just planning to come and attack one of us again, there’s no need to worry.” Patton had rolled his eyes as he spoke, crossing his arms.

“Um, Pat?”

“Not now, Virge.”

“But-”

“I said not now!” Virgil flinched as Patton raised his voice, his grip on Roman accidentally tightening and Roman whimpered ever so softly. Patton took a deep breath. “Roman will get better, today’s just a bad day for him! He said so himself!”

Deceit looked past Patton, to the top of the stairs. He made brief eye contact with Logan before the logical side disappeared around the corner, and Deceit huffed loudly.

“Fine! But I’m not leaving until Remus comes back, alright?” Deceit’s voice was just slightly too loud, loud enough to cover the sound of a door closing upstairs. Deceit trudged over to the couch, settling on Roman’s other side.

Roman was looking far worse. He felt as though he could get sick at any moment, and Virgil had been right, he was turning gray. His sash was already a dark and unsaturated red, and his skin was growing paler by the minute. But Patton just waved it off with the explanation maybe Thomas was just losing some motivation, it wasn’t something new, and he went back to cleaning.

-

In the Imagination, things were falling apart just as quickly as Roman was getting sick. Logan hated the Imagination, it was no place for him. But Deceit would know if Remus was just pulling a prank on them, and Logan knew Remus wouldn’t go as far as to make Roman sick. Patton maybe, but not Roman.

The ground shakes softly under Logan’s feet as he walks briskly through what was once a forest. Roman’s forest. The trees are almost regressing, some turning into saplings while others disappear below the ground in front of his own eyes. He passes a lake that turns smaller and smaller, first going dry before refilling with dirt. And then the color. Everything was void of it, and Logan knew that wasn’t right. Roman’s land was vibrant and loud and alive. Nothing was supposed to be dying in his part of the Imagination.

It’s when Logan gets closer to the border, everything now looking like an empty field, that he hears it. A wail that could shatter glass in an instant, and Logan’s running towards it, calling out for Remus.

As he gets closer, he realizes the wails aren’t just cries for help. They’re cries for Roman.

Logan nearly trips over the curled figure, but he stops before he can hurt them. And the cries momentarily quiet into soft sobs as they look up at Logan.

“You’re not- you’re not Roman-” he hiccups and the young figure finally registers in Logan’s mind as Remus. Except… he wasn’t Remus anymore, not the one Logan had been expecting to find. Still, Logan crouches down so he’s at eye level with the child.

Logan tries to keep his voice as even as possible. “No, but I know where he is.”

Remus’s eyes darken slightly, and he looks down, sniffling as he tries and fails to wipe away his tears. “So he did leave me? The bright man made him leave?” He asked softly, looking back up to Logan with tears still streaming down his cheeks. Logan tilted his head.

“The bright man?”

“Yeah, in the- the light blue shirt! He wanted to take Roman- I haven’t- where is he? He left me, didn’t he?”

Logan had thought he had felt rage before, but that was nothing compared to this. “You mean Patton took Roman?” Remus seemed to think for a moment, and then he nodded, and it took all of Logan’s energy to not curse up a storm right then and there. He tried to keep a neutral expression. “I don’t think he wanted to leave you, Remus, in fact, I think Roman would be very happy to see you.”

“But what about the bright man?”

Logan reached out to brush away Remus’s tears and push his hair from his face. “Don’t worry about him.”

“But what if he hurts me- he took Roman away because he didn’t like me- I was bad! What if he does it again?!”

Logan offered a small smile, hoping it looked reassuring. “As I said, do not worry about him. I’ll deal with him if he tries, okay?” Remus bit his lip, a bit too hard as a small bit of blood seeped out from under his teeth. Logan sighed softly. “Remus, do you want to see Roman?”

Slowly, Remus nodded, and Logan scooped him up off the ground just as the area around them was turning white. “Hold on tight, okay?” Logan mumbled as Remus buried his face in Logan’s shoulder, nodding, and Logan sunk out, holding the child tightly in his arms.

It had been a happy day.

———————————–

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[skzrequests]

Orange Juice - Seo Changbin

anonymous said : “My pace 24 w changbin? uwu im a sucker for the idea of tattoist bin lmao”

24 ➝ “Is that a tattoo ?”

➵ Pairings : changbin x reader

➵ Warnings : explicit language ; mentions of blood

➵ Genre : tattoo artist!au ; fluff

➵ Word count : 4.3k

➵ Note : me too, anon, me too :’) thank you for requesting this, I’m a sucker for tattooist bin too and for real, I think you just cured my writer’s block, so I can’t thank you enough ! I hope the fic is okay, don’t hesitate to tell me what you think :)

You turned on your heels, looking around for the soy sauce brand you usually bought. Finally finding it, the familiar red and green colours of the label catching your eye, you extended your arm to grab it before you carefully placed it in your cart. Pushing it out of the alley and into the next, you thought about what you had written down on your list of groceries that—of course—you had forgotten on top of the kitchen counter before going out. 

What was missing ? You had eggs, milk, cookies, your favourite yogurt, your weekly stock of noodles, pretty much everything you needed. 

Orange juice ! Of course, how could you forget ? No orange juice in the morning, no functional you. 

Hitting your forehead with your palm at your own forgetfulness, you proceeded to turn around in the middle of the alley to go back to the juice section. 

Stopping in front of the numerous orange juice bottles and packs that the store offered, your eyes once more scanned the section for the one you always took. 

“Here” someone spoke next to you, but what you saw first was a hand extended to you, holding the bottle you had been looking for, with its childlike doodles of an orange in every colour of the rainbow. 

Your eyes widened slightly, brows arching in surprise and thankfulness at the action of—judging by the voice—the man who had somehow found what you’d been looking for. 

You looked up, surprised and wondering who it could be, although you did not expect it to be someone you knew. 

You were wrong. 

You almost didn’t recognise him. Not that his features had changed, he still had that same sharp jaw but soft curves on his face, but he gave off a totally different aura, to the point you weren’t even sure it was him anyway, no matter how much his face and soft smile left no place for doubt. 

He was wearing a black leather jacket over a white t-shirt that he’d paired with black distressed jeans and monochrome black Converse. Something you’d never imagined seeing him wearing. But some things never change, and the black ringed cap pushed so far down that it almost completely covered his eyes—it made you wonder how he could see anything—convinced you of the man’s identity. 

“Changbin ?!” you almost screamed in disbelief in the middle of the juice section, earning a few glares from the moms around, trying to shop peacefully, and some curious stares from their kids. You didn’t even notice though. 

He broke into a smile, cocking his head in the direction of his still extended arm holding the bottle of juice. 

“Your favourite, right ?” he asked and smirked when your mouth fell slightly open. 

Anticipating your question, he didn’t give you the time to open your mouth again as he explained : “You drank it all the time, back in high school” he said and you felt heat slowly rise to your cheeks, “Can’t remember a day when you didn’t have a bottle in your backpack” he laughed lightly. 

You didn’t know what to focus on : how he remembered your favourite brand of orange juice from high school, how much he had changed, how insanely good he looked ? It was way too much at once for your brain to process. 

“I- uh” you stuttered, not knowing what to say or where to begin. If your internal alarms could stop blaring in your head, it would be nice. “What are you doing here ?” you finally managed to get out but immediately mentally facepalmed yourself. He’s chasing a tiger, obviously. Come on, this is the grocery store, what could he possibly be doing here, y/n ? you scolded yourself.

He chuckled again, the sound ringing in your ears and bringing you back to reality. 

“Well, I guess I, too, need to eat sometimes” he joked and you forced a small laugh out of your throat. Nice job, y/n. 

You then just stood there and stared at him, mind completely blank, as if your internal program had stopped working and the computer needed a reboot. 

“So ?” Changbin inquired, making you widen your eyes at him again, brows arching, not understanding. “Are you gonna take it or not ?” He finished his sentence as he extended his arm even further. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry” was all you could manage to get out as you finally took the orange juice from him, your fingers brushing over his hand in the process. 

“It’s okay,” he laughed again, “I didn’t think you’d be that shocked to see me, though” he smirked once more. 

You rolled your eyes as you put the bottle down in your cart, next to the soy sauce. 

“It’s been years, Changbin, did you expect me to just go and have our super special handshake like that ?” you asked sarcastically. 

“We had a handshake ?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

You looked at him with an annoyed expression. “No, we didn’t, idiot” you said and he just let out a small “phew”, resting his now free hand on his chest as if he had been worried about it. You and him were barely friends in high school, it was more like you had common friends so you were aware of each other’s existence. You’d only talked to him for school projects, seeing he was a rather quiet kid, unlike you.

“Oh thank god, I thought I'd forgotten it” he said. Oh, so he really was worried about it then. 

You shook your head in disbelief. 

“Anyway,” he said as he clasped his hands together, signalling a subject change, “how’s life going ?” he asked and you scoffed. 

“I should be asking you that,” you said, “it was you who had no idea what you wanted to do”. 

He shrugged. “I guess I found it now” he smiled. “But what about you ?” he asked again.

“Me ? I’m good, I guess,” you started, your face felt hotter than before and you were starting to wonder if it were going to explode at some point if it kept going, so you took off your scarf and turned around to put it in your cart with your groceries while you spoke : “I mean nothing really exciting but I have a job at least” you said, back facing him.

“Hold on,” Changbin stopped you and you whipped around, worried by the tone of his voice, “is that a tattoo ?” he asked as he took a step closer, pointing his finger to the back of your neck where the black curves of music notes peeked out of your shirt. 

“Oh that ?” you asked back as he came closer and you turned again to let him see it, tugging your shirt down a little, “yeah it’s a tattoo, why ?” You asked again. 

He looked at it for a few seconds without speaking before he stepped back, allowing you to face him again. 

“I’m a tattoo artist now” he explained and your eyes grew bigger than they ever had in your life. 

“No fucking way ?” You shouted, “That’s freaking awesome !” you exclaimed again and he smiled, fake dusting off his jacket as you laughed and pushed him lightly. 

He laughed and spoke up again : “No, but for real, are you that surprised ?”.

You stopped and looked him in the eye. 

“Not really. You were always really good at drawing, but I didn’t think you’d have the guts to do it, with the whole marking other people’s skin permanently, you know ?” you told him, “thought the responsibility might have been too much, but I guess I was wrong” you smiled. 

You came to realisation that his whole body was covered by his clothes, but surely there was more to see under it all. 

“Show me !” You exclaimed as your hands flew to his jacket and you tried to take it off him, “Show me the art !” 

He brought his arms closer to his torso, trying to protect himself from your hands that were actually tickling him. 

“Y/n !” he called between giggles, “If you want to see me without my clothes that much, you could wait until we’re somewhere a bit more private” he said with yet another smirk. 

You instantly retracted your hands, only extending the right one again to hit his shoulder, earning a wince from him. 

“Seriously,” he said, “let’s go pay for all that and get out of here” he told you, walking behind you to push your cart towards the check out. 

“Oh wow, didn’t it hurt like a bitch ?” you asked as he showed you the intricate designs inked on his elbows, and you grimaced at the thought of the pain. 

He grimaced too, as if remembering it perfectly, “Yup, thought I'd never use my arms again and that my bones had gotten pierced by the needle, but here I am” he answered as he sat back down, facing you again. 

You nodded while still grimacing, imagining if you did it yourself. Elbows were one of the spots you never wanted to get tattooed for that very reason. 

“Wow, I can’t believe you changed that much in just a few years” you confessed honestly, not looking him in the eye as you shook your head down. 

“Hey, you changed a lot too,” he shot back, “and I never thought you’d ever get a tattoo but here you are” he said, gesturing his hand over at you. 

“I have more than one, you know ?” you said, smiling lightly. 

His eyes widened. “What ? More tha- and you didn’t tell me ?” he exclaimed and you laughed out loud, shushing him in the middle of the café—although you were just as noisy as him. 

“Yeah, I have one on my thigh and one on my ribs” you said, smiling proudly. 

“And you were saying elbows must have hurt when you got a tattoo on your ribs” he shook his head. 

“Right” you said, “I must have been crazy to do it”. 

“I’d love to see it” he smirked and you chuckled. 

“Maybe I'll show you one day, who knows ?” you grinned. 

“Oh, I’m sure I'll see it soon” he said and grinned back at you cockily as you blushed furiously and tried not to let it show, biting your inner cheek. 

“A-Anyway,” you said, trying to seem unfazed, “I’d love to get a new one. What do you say ?” you asked, a little expectant. You had seen some of the things he had tattooed on himself, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love his style. It was just... so much like him. It was beautiful, mesmerising even, how he turned every simple thing into a piece of art. 

Changbin’s eyes lit up and he cracked another smile at you. 

“You’d want a tattoo from me ?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised, but mostly flattered, coming from you.

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously, duh ? It’s amazing, and besides, you’re an old friend, so that’d mean something else too, right ?” you told him. 

“What you got in mind ?” he asked. 

You shrugged. “Surprise me”.

After that unexpected encounter with him in the supermarket, and after you’d gone to a café and talked for hours, you were now headed to the tattoo parlour Changbin worked at, a week and a half later, ready to get that new tattoo you wanted so much. 

At this point, you were pretty much convinced of two things : one, this tattoo would definitely be your favourite out of all the ones you’d be getting ; and two, you were undeniably crushing on Changbin. 

You felt annoyed about it, because you felt like a living cliché walking around, falling for a guy you’d never talked to that much in high school after miraculously meeting him years later, after puberty had finally done its job (right). But you brushed it off, maybe it wasn’t the right time for you to get into a relationship yet, and nothing told you he was interested in you anyway. You’d probably been staying awake at night for the past days for nothing.

Still, you wanted that tattoo, and you liked Changbin’s company, so at least, you wanted to become friends with him. Who knew ? Maybe one day, he’d even offer you a free tattoo. 

Picking up your pace a little to escape the cold, you walked up to the front door of the shop and pushed it open, making your way inside. You sighed in relief when you felt the warmth on your cheeks, your whole body unfreezing little by little. 

You turned to the counter and greeted the girl behind it warmly and she returned a smile. 

“You’re here for Changbin, right ?” she asked and you blinked a few times, taken aback by the bluntness. “You’re y/n, right ?” she pushed further. You couldn’t do anything but nod. She smiled at you again, although it looked like a bit of a smirk, as she told you to follow her and walked to the back of the shop. 

She stopped in front of a closed curtain and pushed it to the side, peeking her head inside. 

“Y/n is here,” she said, “you ready ?” she asked him. There was no audible answer, but he must have said he was because she stepped back and pointed behind her with her thumb, indicating you to go in. 

You thanked her and pushed the curtain again, curiously eyeing the inside of the room before stepping in. 

Changbin was sitting in his work chair, smiling softly when he saw you enter. You smiled back, feeling your heartbeat pick up a little. 

“Hey” you greeted him, somehow your voice managed to crack, no matter how short that was, and you hated yourself for it. 

Changbin’s smile widened, “Hey” he said back. “Stressed ?” he asked and you shook your head in response. 

“No, it’s not like it’s my first time anyway” you joked and he bit his lip, looking down and away from your eyes. 

“Right” he commented, followed by a discreet chuckle.

You pursed your lips. Way to go, y/n. When would you stop making things uncomfortable ? Probably the day you died, because that was the only moment you’d finally shut up. 

Brushing it off, you cleared your throat, making Changbin look up at you again from his sitting position. 

“So, uh, what you got ?” you asked, feeling the heat from both the embarrassment and the fact Changbin looked like a god right in front of you in that very moment. It was hard to keep your gaze on him, and yet at the same time you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of his figure. 

“Uh ? Oh, yeah right” he came back to his senses and spun his chair around to his desk, pushing a pile of papers as he looked for his design. 

You waited as patiently as you could, feeling your guts twist a little in anticipation while he kept making a mess before you. 

“Ha !” he exclaimed as he picked a piece of paper and held it up, turning around with a proud smile on his face as he showed it to you. 

Taking the paper, your eyes widened at the pleasant surprise you found drawn on it. 

Pursing your lips again to try and contain your laugh, it was to no help as you burst out laughing, bending in half as you held your sides. 

Changbin watched you, smirking proudly. He chuckled when he saw you wipe the corners of your eyes from how hard you’d been laughing.

“Changbin, oh my gosh...” you trailed as you tried to steady your breathing, holding the paper in front of you so you could take a good look at it once more. 

“What ? You didn’t specify anything about the size.” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Changbin, that’s not it,” you said, not taking your eyes off of the drawing before your eyes. 

“You don’t like it ?” he asked you, panic suddenly taking over him evident in his voice as he sat straight up. 

That’s when you finally ripped your eyes off the sheet, eyes wide as you thought it was obvious that was not it. 

“Are you kidding me ?” you said, not easing Changbin’s worries with the tone of your voice as he tensed up a bit more. “Changbin, I love it.” you stated and watched him slump back in his seat with a long sigh of relief. 

“My heart is beating normally again” he said, resting his right hand on his chest over his heart. 

“This is genius,” you continued, looking back at his drawing again. The carton of orange juice seemed to be looking back at you on the paper, although it had no eyes. There was even a small orange doodle on it, just like on the one you always bought. You chuckled lightly and Changbin smiled as he watched you. “I just... I never expected this but it’s perfect.” you spoke your mind and looked at him. He was a genius. That was the best thing he could have suggested. It was so much like him, so much like you, and it would mean so much more than anything else would have. 

You handed him the sheet back and he set in on his desk, smile never fading as he spun around to put it down. 

“Where do you want it ?” he asked as he spun around again to face you. 

That, you had not thought of, since you didn’t know what to expect. You shrugged. “Where do you want to tattoo it ?” you asked back with a sly smile.

He pursed his lips, still looking you in the eye, as he thought. 

“It’ll be your arm, then” he said and you smiled, nodding. “Get yourself ready” he motioned for you to take off your coat, “I’ll go get the stencil printed.” he instructed and left the room, leaving you alone as you removed your winter coat and scarf before hanging them. You sat down, looking around at the drawings adorning the walls of the room. You could see which ones were Changbin’s and which ones weren’t. He just had that thing, and it made everything he drew unique and easily recognisable. 

You rolled up your sleeve over your right arm, looking one last time at your skin before it got inked. 

Changbin stepped back in, startling you a little as you hadn’t heard him come back. He smiled at you again and showed you two stencils, two different sizes. Same drawing, though. 

“Which one ?” he asked as he held up both stencils next to each other. 

You thought for a second. “Maybe the smaller one ? It has to fit on my arm, after all” you said and he licked his lips, letting his hands fall down at his sides. 

“Let’s go then” he said.

He told you to stand up and you obliged. Changbin took his sweet time to put on some gloves and pour some liquid on a compress.

He rolled his chair over to you and rubbed your shoulder and down your arm with it. The cold contact made you shiver a bit, although you knew it was mixed with anticipation. You’d never wanted a tattoo so bad. 

“Ok, time for the stencil. You stay relaxed and remember to breathe or it’ll look weird” he instructed and you smiled.

“Yes sir, I know how tattoos work” you told him as your eyes shifted to your right to meet his annoyed ones. 

“Let me do my job, will you ?” he said as he prepared the design. You smiled to yourself. 

He applied the sticky drawing right under your shoulder, rubbing it lightly at the borders. He rolled back a little to look at it and gave you a thumbs up, satisfied. 

You looked at the blue drawing on your arm. This was gonna look so good. 

Changbin instructed you to sit down in his work chair as he turned to prepare the ink and needle. He rubbed your arm with another compress before taking his work tool in his hand and rolling back to your side, the noise the machine made making you bite your lip.

“Ready ?” he looked at you with raised eyebrows as he rolled your sleeve back up. 

“I’ve been waiting for this my whole life” you cracked a big smile.

Changbin cocked his head a little as he scoffed. “Let’s do this” he said.

He brought the needle down. 

You winced a little, reminding yourself to keep breathing and stay relaxed as Changbin ran the needle on (more like in) your arm repeatedly. 

It was almost over, and you knew it, but that was exactly why it hurt even more now. Your skin was on fire after getting pierced through for so long, and you’d been bleeding quite a lot. More than you and Changbin had expected. It was a surprise, because it was only the arm and it was just a small tattoo. Y/n, you weak bitch. 

There were only a few minutes left to endure. It hadn’t taken long, since it was small, and you were glad because somehow, it hurt a lot more than you had expected. Not as bad as the ribs, but worse than you’d thought. 

Changbin straightened up next to you, turning around to grab some paper towels and this unidentified refreshing liquid he poured on your arm before he rubbed it. You felt the pain ease, soothing you instantly. 

He looked at you, eyes shining and smiling brightly : “All done !” he announced, beaming with pride. 

You sighed in relief as you got up while he cleaned his tools next to you. 

“There’s a mirror right there” he pointed at the back of the room, opposite his desk. 

Seeing a small bit of tattoo flashing on your arm in your reflection as you moved closer to it, you couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face, only growing bigger when you turned to see it completely. 

It looked amazing. It was so simple, and yet so elaborate. You had no words for it. No words would do it justice, and no words could express how you felt at that very moment. 

You turned back when Changbin called you to wrap your arm up. As he placed the transparent food wrap around your arm, he asked : “So, anything to say ?”

You looked up at him, blushing at the proximity. Gosh, he really was insanely handsome. 

“I don’t know what to say, to be honest. I can’t find anything to say.” you told him truthfully. “Thank you, Changbin”.

He gave you a lopsided smile as he patted your arm after finishing. 

“It’s my pleasure” he said. 

You stayed there for a second, looking at him with a soft smile. 

“How much do I owe you ?” you asked, walking to your coat to take your wallet out. 

Changbin grabbed your forearm, careful not to touch you on your new tattoo. You turned around, quaking an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“You don’t owe me anything, let’s say it’s a high school reunion present” he said and flashed you an eye smile that melted your heart. 

“No way, I can’t let you do that ! It’s too much” you shook your head, turning fully as he let go of your arm. 

“It’s fine, really” he said as he got up to grab your coat and scarf before handing them to you and pushing you out, hand on the small of your back. 

You made your way back to the front desk, carefully sliding your right arm into your coat’s sleeve as you put your clothes back on before stepping out, Changbin right behind you. 

Flipping your scarf over your shoulder, you sighed. 

“Okay, then I'll get going” you said. “Thank you again, and uh, I'll see you soon I guess ?” you told Changbin, the last part coming out as more of a question as you felt unsure about it. 

He simply nodded and let out a small “Sure” and you awkwardly nodded back before you turned on your heels and stepped out, letting the cold wind hit your face with its blow. 

You could always come back to get another tattoo from him anyway. Maybe you’d meet again at the grocery store. There was a chance you’d run into each other on the streets. Or maybe your high school would finally organise an alumni reunion and you’d get to see him again. Was it going to end just like this ? You couldn’t stand the thought of it. 

You’d been walking a few metres only when you got interrupted in your train of thoughts by a voice calling your name. You turned back, curious. 

Changbin jogged up to your level, wearing only a t-shirt, stopping right in front of you. 

“Wait I-I uh,” he stuttered, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “I just realised uh, I don- I don’t have your number, so if you have any problems or-”

“Changbin,” you cut him off as he started fiddling with his fingers, “just kiss me already” you said bluntly. 

He gaped at you and stuttered something you couldn’t quite make out, but he stepped closer to you and took your face in his hands nonetheless, crashing his lips on yours. 

In the end, you were the one to be surprised. 

He pulled away and looked in your eyes. He seemed shocked at what he’d just done, but showed no regret in doing it. Where had his confident flirty self gone, though ?

His eyes were as wide as yours, not believing what had just happened himself. Still, he asked you : “Wanna do that again ?”

You nodded quickly, “S-Sure, but let’s get back inside before you freeze to death” you told him and he cracked a smile before laughing lightly. 

“I’ll go get my coat” he said as he turned around, “wanna go grab some orange juice at the grocery store ?” he shot at you.

You smiled. There it was. 

———

~admin zia (@jinniesmeow)

[sapphyrelily]

Inked

My contribution to Kat’s support book! @tendou-satori I hope you like it!

Wakatoshi was a meticulous person, but sometimes he forgot things.

It was because he forgot things that he carried a pen around with him at all times, to write a note to himself on the palm of his hand, and when that kept getting smudged off, on the back of his hand.

It was an easy and efficient method of remembering, until one day, he found a reminder to do his homework – except he already had.

When he rubbed at the mark, it didn’t come away easily, nor did it smudge like his pen ink was wont to do.

It was only when his mother found him washing his hands obsessively – the words were still there – that he was stopped.

That day, he learnt what a soulmate mark was.

He also stopped writing on his skin.

-----

He wondered why the words stopped appearing after a while. He knew they weren’t addressed to him, but it was nice to know that his soulmate was sort of forgetful – it was a cute thought to have, about someone he might never meet.

I wonder what they’re like.

-----

Wakatoshi was still in elementary school when little drawings started appearing on his arms – a small flower, a smiling snail, a tortoise on its back. He rubbed at them absentmindedly, but when his skin was red and raw and the drawings remained, he remembered his soulmate and the connection they shared.

So he stopped rubbing at them, and smiled whenever a new one appeared.

-----

He was always bored, and no one wanted to talk to him, so he drew.

One day, he found awkward, angled words printed under one of his doodles, a little arrow pointing to his messiest drawing yet.

I like this one.

He stared in disbelief – that was the most horrible thing he had drawn thus far, and he was just about to rub it out. But it seemed that his soulmate liked it, so he wrote back a quick Thank you! and continued doodling.

-----

Wakatoshi grew up with doodles on his skin. They started small, as his soulmate learnt to draw, but gradually expanded, becoming larger, more intricate. Patterns of vines and abstract swirls climbed up his arm, wrapping itself around his biceps, dotting the skin inside his elbows. Little rockets took off his knees, mapped stars and galaxies on his legs.

Whenever he practiced volleyball with his father, he’d get a bit distracted by all the drawings on his body – but he was glad that no amount of his own dirt and sweat could wash them off, because it was not his ink. Sometimes, he wished others would ask about his drawings – not because they were his, but because they were beautiful, and he wanted to share that beauty with others.

As he grew up and transitioned from elementary to middle school, the drawings seemed to restrict themselves to his arms. He assumed, then, that his soulmate was the same age as him, for that was the age that boys wore long uniform pants even in the heat of summer, and it was immodest for girls to hitch their skirts up to draw on their legs.

Sometimes he thought it odd that he never asked his soulmate more about themselves, but then again, he was perfectly content with the manner by which they communicated.

In his second year of middle school, he started writing reminders to himself again.

-----

His drawings were awful, and if any of the other boys saw the patterns on his skin, they’d poke fun at him.

He washed them away before practice began, but on the walk home, he’d draw something new.

He couldn’t help it – drawing was one of the things that kept him calm and sane, and he was eternally grateful that his soulmate thought every one of his doodles beautiful.

When he flipped his hand over, he noticed a little smudge on his right palm – a reminder:

Protein must be taken 30min after exercise.

He blinked. Must be a sports person.

And then, I wonder if they play volleyball!

He picked his pen up again and doodled a volleyball on the back of his hand, humming happily the rest of the way home.

As he washed his hands for dinner, he saw a reply on his right hand: a children’s volleyball mascot, with arms and legs thrown high in jubilation.

He smiled, and picked up a pen.

-----

His soulmate played volleyball, he was certain of it.

After their first volleyball-related drawings, their doodles spiralled into full matches drawn on the back of hands, extending up their forearms before hopping to the other arm.

It was always more difficult to draw with his right hand, but his scribbles were passable, he thought. His soulmate never made fun of his shaky drawings, though there was a quick question on his left palm once.

He replied in turn on his right palm, and the NICE he got made a small smile tug at his lips.

He was able to hide the drawings under this school uniform most of the time – the teachers would surely not appreciate it – but during practice, they stood out against his skin, and invited stares. The coach didn’t like it either, but it wasn’t​ like he could do anything about it.

So every time he spiked, blocked or received, the drawings would catch his eye.

Sometimes, the mere thought of them gave him wings.

-----

When he was antsy, he doodled more.

But it was the day of the competition, and for the sake of propriety, he wasn’t allowed to draw.

But he could write.

You’ll be fine You’ll be fine You’ll be fine

His entire left palm was black with ink, words blurring into each other, smudging with friction and sweat.

He opened and closed his hand, clenching it tightly, exhaling heavily.

He could do this. He’d be fine. Playing a match with teammates who didn’t quite like him? He’d be fine. The coach needed him in for his height, it didn’t matter what others thought.

He’d be fine.

He put the pen down, stared at his hands, clenching and unclenching them.

And suddenly, there were words on his right palm.

Are you alright?

He could barely hold his pen, his hand was so damp, but he managed to scrawl Nervous on the back of his hand.

He saw the words appear on his right palm, neat strokes tattooing into his skin.

What about?

Volleyball match.

He waited and waited, but no more words appeared, and the coach was calling them – he had to go. He wiped his palms on his pants – they were wearing their dark uniforms, it was fine – and set the pen down, not looking back.

They got to the court and he stepped up to the net, put his hands up – they were serving first.

And right as the whistle blew, he noticed them. A tiny string of words, dividing his hand in half.

Good luck. I believe in you.

He almost missed blocking the spike because he was so warm inside.

-----

Wakatoshi tugged on his sleeves, pulling them down to cover his wrists.

It was his first day at high school, and he wanted to make a favourable impression. It didn’t matter that he had been going to Shiratorizawa since middle school – high school was different. It was new ground, with fresh faces and novel experiences, and he was going to take it seriously.

He stood in line at assembly with the rest of the school, checking surreptitiously under his sleeves, smiling faintly when he saw a new line.

Good luck at your new school!!

He looked up; the assembly had not yet begun. He pulled a pen from his pocket, and wrote his own encouragement as a reply.

-----

I wish you the best of luck at yours.

He smiled at his wrist. Always so formal, his soulmate, so polite and stiff even in speech.

He’d like to meet them someday, but with his luck with people, what were the chances?

(Likely never.)

-----

Club tryouts ♪ Club tryouts ♪

Wakatoshi smiled at the words lining his hand, picking up his pen to scrawl a reply before standing and leaving the classroom.

He couldn’t be late for his own club, though he was already guaranteed a place.

Sports scholarships were a wonderful thing indeed.

-----

He changed quickly, smiling at the words on his hand before writing his own reply.

Nah, just saying. I got in on sports scholarship, I already have my club.

He continued doodling on his hand, drawing a pattern that extended up his arm. The cool tip of the pen was a familiar pressure against his skin, and some of his wound-up tension unravelled.

The school bell rang, and he jerked – he had to get to the gym.

Casting a last glance over his drawing – it was too late to wash it off – he nodded and started running.

It wasn’t a bad drawing, by any count.

-----

“First year, Ushijima Wakatoshi. I play wing spiker.”

He took a step back after his introduction, arms folded loosely behind his back. It wasn’t as if he had anything to hide, but there was an intricate design that covered his entire left forearm, and he wasn’t sure that the coach would take graffitied players seriously. (His one meeting with the man had solidified that fact, deeply rooted it in his brain.)

He desperately wanted to be on the team, and if momentarily hiding his soulmate’s art would help with his second impression, then he would take it.

(He felt guilty upon admission of that thought, and apologised to his soulmate in his mind.)

He didn’t really hear the rest of the first years introduce themselves – there would be time to get to know them later – and simply followed the directions the coach gave.

It wasn’t until he was paired up with another – a stern-faced boy with a ready smile – that he let his arms swing by his side, coming up front quickly to receive and pass the ball back to him.

He could see the other eyeing his arm with interest, so he caught the ball and held the appendage out to him. “You may look. I do not mind.”

The boy looked surprised, but shook his head, reaching out to grasp his hand firmly. “That is private, between you and your soulmate. I do not want to pry. Oh, I’m Oohira Reon. Nice to meet you.”

“Ushijima Wakatoshi. Nice to meet you.” He stepped back into position, and tossed the ball for their drill.

They continued in silence, punctuated only by the sounds of others in the gym, screaming to each other, calling for the ball. It was only when they stopped to move on to their next drill that Oohira addressed him again.

“I’m not sure if you know, but that guy has the same drawings as you on his arm.”

Wakatoshi spun round so fast, he almost gave himself whiplash. “Who?”

“The tall one with the red hair.”

And Wakatoshi saw.

He made a move towards him, but a firm hand on his wrist held him back, followed by strong words of logic. “If you stop doing drills now, Washijou-sensei will have our heads.”

“But I must–”

“You may not make a good impression with Washijou-sensei, and thus not make the team.”

He stopped. He thought about it, then turned to Oohira and nodded slowly.

“You are right. I will talk to him after practice.”

-----

Practice was tough but fun, and he even made a new friend through it.

His friend let him talk but also made the most scathing comments – he had never been so delighted in his life.

To seal their friendship, he decided a prank was in order, and so grabbed a marker after practice and drew a little something on the back of his friend’s neck.

It took his friend five minutes to find a mirror to see what he had drawn, and by then, there were large, angry kanji running all over his arm, demanding to know why there was this obscene drawing on them.

He had run out of the locker room before he found out what he drew, laughing to himself; ducking around a well-built person, he made to leave, but a large hand on his shoulder stopped him.

He looked up: the other was stoic, impassive, and didn’t look like he had any business with him at all. He opened his mouth to say just that, but the boy extended his left arm to him, palm up, and suddenly, his mouth was dry.

He knew that drawing.

He looked up again, straightening, and attempted a cracked smile. “Hello.”

“Hello.” There was the faintest hint of a smile on his face, and he was floored – his heart felt like it had jumped out of his chest and taken dance classes before returning, it was beating so fast. “My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi, it is nice to meet you.”

He gaped, then coughed out a laugh.

(His words were formal and well-arranged, and he knew that phrasing, even if he had never had a voice to go with the words before.)

(It was, it really was him.)

(Him.)

(His soulmate.)

(What were the chances?)

The brightest grin split his face, and he grabbed his extended hand eagerly, shaking it, squeezing it, as if to prove to himself that he was real.

“Hello,” he began, just as a shout split the air. “I’m Tendou Satori. And it’s very nice to finally meet you in person, but let’s run first and talk later.”

Ushijima’s brow furrowed, the tiniest crease of confusion. “I do not understand.”

“No need to,” he replied, tugging at the hand still in his until he began moving. “It’s just that I played a prank on one of our teammates, and he’s probably coming after me right now–”

“TENDOU! WHERE ARE YOU?”

“–that’s him,” Tendou confirmed, a giddy smile on his face. “Shall we go?”

“But I do not understand why we must evade him.”

“I’ll explain later. C’mon, this way!”

And they were off, two lanky figures darting through the last rays of the setting sun, footsteps pounding strangely along the concrete.

His bag bounced against his back, a discomfort he was unused to, but his fingers were intertwined with someone’s – his soulmate, his friend, the one constant he always had, besides volleyball.

It was uncomfortable to be running as such, but as he watched the honeyed rays catch in a shock of red hair, play across the design still impressed upon his skin, he felt himself smile a little.

It wasn’t what he expected, but he had a feeling he would enjoy the ride.