#i drew this like a week ago because i got a new drawing tablet for christmas and was testing it out

[squidsparks]

i forget to post my art on tumblr have homura

[sopiloveshobi]

Loved you from afar

Yoongi fluff that was in my head for a good few weeks. Inspired by my friend Taeyi. Shy Yoongi, non idol style. 4k words. No warnings. I hope it will make you feel warm and fluffy and head over heels for this Yoon. (didn't read it or spell checked sowwi)

‘I’m here!’ – you waived at the man walking down the mall along the shops towards you. He was holding two cups of coffee to go and a small bag which looked like the kind you would get from a pastry shop. He walked past few other people on the way and made his way to you. He was wearing a pair of shorts and long dark oversized t-shirt, high top converse with white socks sticking out. He smiled widely when he saw you waive. ‘The queue was crazy, I’m really sorry it took so long’ he muttered and handed you the drink. ‘It’s okay Yoongi, I told you it’s mental around this time of the day’ you smiled grateful he went to get lunch for the two of you. ‘Let me just let my boss know I’m going on a break’ you pointed at the inside of the clothing shop you were both standing in front and you disappeared inside for few moments, still holding your coffee. Yoongi nervously looked around, trying to find something to look at whilst waiting for you and he decided to just stare at his own shoes. You came back not long after, poked your head around the corner to see your friend just staring down. It wasn’t anything new to you, as he tends to be a little bit awkward in public. ‘All sorted, ready?’ you surprised him and he glanced at you, smiled and nodded.

Right outside of the mall on the left hand side was small park-ish area. Few swings for kids and benches for the parents. But it was all empty because it looked like everyone disappeared for lunch. The both of you moved towards the area, picked the cleanest bench and sat on it. It was getting colder as the autumn was approaching soon. The sun was still quite high, it just wasn’t giving the same warmth as two weeks ago. You have taken a sip of your drink and closed your eyes, listening to the silence surrounding the two of you.

‘Taehyung wanted to go to the movies later today’ Yoongi muttered kind of towards you but kind of just into the universe.

‘Oh really? What are you going see?’ you got interested right away. You knew Yoongi for years now. It’s been at least 8, maybe coming to be 9 soon? You became friends at school, then you graduated and still were hanging out, both got few part time jobs in the past few years. You also managed to hold a serious adult office job for about three months before you decided to get a degree - part time, which you also decided to abandon few weeks in. It was too stressful and all you wanted to do was to draw. You were really good at it, so you opened a small business on the side selling your digital prints and art you drew on your tablet. But it wasn’t enough to keep you going, hence the part-time job at the mall.

Yoongi always wanted to make music and he was doing it on the side. He was definitely making enough now to not work part time but for some reason when he found out you will be working in the same mall as him (before he decided to quit) he changed his mind and decided to stay. You never really questioned his decisions. During your summer breaks you spent hours together locked in one of your rooms, him making music at the desk and you drawing on your tablet. The perfect combination. Both the artsy types, both quite shy and timid. Not all the time tough, there were multiple crazy stories you could tell your friends. One of the more memorable ones was when the two of you got really drunk after work and you sat in a shopping trolley which he was pushing, while riding his skateboard. Both laughing like two crazy teenagers until the security got rid of you. Yoongi was shy. Very shy. But he was also so warm. He would always cover your with a blanket when you fell asleep and he continued working on his stuff. He would always bring you hot soup when you were ill. Lunch at work was always a must. He really cared. He was also the type to never admit if he ever had feelings for you. If he did, he treasured your friendship more. He could always be around you and catch you when you fall, without ever risking and jeopardising your current relationship. He could love you from afar. Of course he spent nights thinking if your lips would be soft on his, or what would it be like to hold your hand for real, not just for a second when you were wrestling on the bed. What would it be like for you to fall asleep on his shoulder, when you actually intended to put your head there, not just by accident when he was near by and you were too tired to sit straight. His stomach flipped every time you mentioned a date with someone. He was terrified of someone else having you, at the same time he would never stop you. And he was always there when you were broken up with by another guy who didn’t know what he could have. He watched all the silly films with you and devoured half of the tub of ice cream you always liked. He was always the one to peel a tangerine for you, or an orange when they were around. Without asking if you fancy one, he would just do it and hand it over to you.

‘I’m not sure but he wanted me to bring you with. He said he invited the new girl he was seeing and he wanted it to be little bit less official than a date’ Yoongi answered, slightly worried you might get the wrong idea about the entire thing. But it wasn’t the first time you would go to the movies as his +1. Anytime one of his friends needed a double date you two were the go to. Even though you obviously weren’t dating. Obviously to you, not so obviously to Yoongi. Well it was obvious enough but it started getting to him the more he thought on how long you two have been hanging out for. Nearly 9 years. He was a loyal friend, he was a loyal friend to his other friends too it was just the way he was. He brushed through his long dark hair, overgrown from the summer. He looked at you, nervous as always even though he asked you the same question multiple times before.

‘So WE are going? I didn’t really want to go out tonight but..’ you started, desperately trying to get your pastry out of the paper bag that was laying between you and him on the bench.

‘If you don’t want to I will tell him you had other plans’ he quickly jumped to conclusion. He would never want you to do anything that you weren’t comfortable doing.

‘No, no it’s fine. We can go’ you smiled seeing him getting flustered. He held the bag steady for you and you finally managed to get your piece out of the bag. You grabbed the pastry and bit into it right away. Sweet cream and jam inside filled your mouth and you felt better. Less dizzy and shaky. You didn’t have anything else this morning and Yoongi knew it. Because when you asked for lunch you asked for coffee only and he brought food. He knew you too well and he was sure you didn’t have anything else that day.

‘Are you sure? I can go on my own..’ he asked looking at your pretty face devouring the pastry he picked for you. He admired every second of every time spent with you. Your eyes wondering around the sky, which he dreamed of staring for hours at the time.

‘Yes it’s fine, let’s do it. What film?’ you looked at him again, in between bites.

‘I didn’t really ask, let me text him’ he got a little bit nervous, of course he forgot to ask Taehyung about the film, at the end of the day he didn’t really care. He knew he would have a good time because it was with you. ‘Anyway, I will pick you up at 7? I will take my mums car’.

‘Sounds good! And don’t worry we haven’t seen any of the new films anyway, so whatever Tae picked will be fine’. He loved how unproblematic you were. How easy it was for you to just go with the flow. It was easy for you because you knew that it was always a good time with Yoongi. You knew nothing bad will ever happen to you around him. He would always protect you and take care of you. And you loved it about him so much, but you could never admit it. How could you ruin a friendship like this? He was older so in your head he was always treating you like a younger sister. The age gap wasn’t that big, you met at school at the end of the day.

You picked a really flowy dress, the evenings weren’t super cold. Short green platted dress with a cream cardigan because it was an evening and the dress was on thin straps so you were bound to get cold and you promised yourself you won’t get Yoongi to give up his hoodie yet another time for you. You put few bits in your bag: lip balm, pack of tissues, your wallet and your keys and you run out seeing Yoongi approaching in his mums car. You got in and he got immediately flashed with your scent. Sweet but light floral perfume that you have been using for as long as he remembers. Your hair half-up, with the rest flowing down your shoulders. He got stunned. He couldn’t say anything, there was no thoughts in his brain apart from just how beautiful you looked that night.

‘Yoongi? Hello?’ you waved your hands in front of his eyes and he finally shook his head and came back to his senses.

‘Pull yourself together’ he whispered to himself and you heard him say something but you couldn’t make up any of the words.

‘What? Are you okay?’ you asked, but then he looked back at you, smiled and nodded.

‘Ready? You look great’ he complimented. He always said it. No matter what were you wearing and it was true. He loved you in every outfit. No. He was miserable about you in every outfit. Including his hoodie and joggers when you both got soaked that one night running home from the shop. You were perfect to him in everything you wore. Oh how miserable he was about you. And recently it has been becoming more and more impossible to hide it. He would stutter when you would approach him without a notice or he would get stunned just like just did in the car.

‘Let’s go!’ you said enthusiastically and put your hand into a fist and made a really awkward ‘lets’ gesture. He didn’t say a word the entire time to the cinema. Not a word. The music was playing in the background, nothing too crazy, nothing too loud. He was always quiet but he was acting really strange this time. Almost too strange. And when you started thinking about it, he did become different recently. He was more distant, quieter. He wouldn’t come around as much after work anymore. Is he dating someone? That was your first thought but then you declined that idea since he invited you to go and pretend to be double dating with Tae tonight. Surely he would of invited his real date if he had one.

Anyways you made it to the car park behind the cinema, walked inside and stood there for a while trying to localise Taehyung. But he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Not yet anyway.

‘Is he late? Are they late? I mean it’s nothing new for him, but isn’t the film about to start?’ you asked and looked at Yoongi as he was taking his phone out. You watched him text Tae for the 5th time in the span of 20 minutes as you were waiting for him. You turned around and looked at the popcorn machine and went towards it to get some for you and Yoongi. In that time Taehyung sent a message back to Yoongi ‘We are not coming. I will explain later’ is what the messaged said. You came back to him with a giant bucket of popcorn with a smile on your face excited to devour it during the film.

‘Well they are not coming apparently. Do you still want to go and see the film?’ Yoongi locked his phone and put it into his pocket. You looked at the popcorn in your hands and pouted at first because the idea to miss out on all of that crunchy deliciousness made you a little sad.

‘Do you?’ you asked quickly, still staring at the food.

‘Sure why not, we are already here and we got the tickets’ he nodded and took the bucket away from you. It was always like that with him around. You never had to carry anything, you never even have to ask. You never had to ask about the hoodie when you were shivering either. He just knew. He was a little bit excited for the idea of just the two of you in the cinema. All on your own. Last time you both went was few years ago and he was really nervous to just be alone in a dark room like that with you. Even though you spent hours overnight in each others houses. But the cinema was always a strange place that just gave him this one particular feeling. A feeling of a date.

You found the screening room and went inside. The ads have already started as you were waiting for Tae and his date for a while. Yoongi found your seats and lead you to it. There wasn’t a lot of people around anyway, not many people chose to come in on a weekday after all.

The film started uneventful, it was supposed to be a thriller but it doesn’t seem very thrilling at first anyway. You were slowly going through your bucket of popcorn when a huge yawn came out of you. You hid your face in your hands quickly with an apologetic look on your face, staring at Yoongi. He giggled as it made him laugh. The film wasn’t very good and he clearly could tell that you were getting bored too. But you both decided to give it another try and started paying attention again. The film did get better. The story moved at a faster pace and when a random guy popped out of a rubbish bin with a knife you jumped on your seat and your hand intuitively landed on Yoongis. He looked at your hand and froze for a second. You were now holding his hand. Well he was holding your hand. You two were holding hands. He gasped without you noticing but he didn’t pull away. He promised himself to distance himself from you. Give you space to breathe because even he could notice the way he was behaving around you recently. But today, the smell of you in his car, the green dress and the fact that Tae stood you two up made a potion of courage for him. He decided to just go with the flow. It wasn’t like him at all. But he kept wondering what would it be like to hold your hand, and how would your lips fit in his.

You noticed he was looking at your hands but you didn’t pull away either. You didn’t let him see that you saw him looking. What a huge game is being played here. Pretending to not see each other movements or delicate stares. You smirked to yourself and decided to pretend this is not a big deal. It’s just a hand, right? And then another strange thing happened in the film and you squeezed his hand. And all of a sudden he just let go of your hand and wrapped his arm around you. You froze. Yoongi? What the hell is this? He wasn’t looking at you, he just did this and went back to watching the film. But you couldn’t focus anymore, his fresh scent surrounded you. Just like every time you wore his hoodie. It felt so homey and fresh. His warm arm around you. You not moving an inch. You gulped. What is going on? You thought to yourself. He was never like this. He was never this brave, nor forward. But it felt so nice. You didn’t know what to do next. You were so conflicted already overthinking scenarios in your head. What if we won’t like each other like that for very long? What if he will get bored of me? What if…

He saw you having an internal conversation with yourself. He knew you too well and seen it too many times. He wasn’t sure what it was about but he could tell you stopped focusing on the film. Did I fuck up? He thought to himself but he didn’t move an inch. He looked at you again and he saw two round eyes staring right at him. There was nothing else around for him just the pair of your eyes looking at him. He exhaled loudly and looked away for a second. Brushed his hand through his overgrown long dark hair and looked back at you.

And there you were, still staring at him trying to read what was going on in his head. Trying to understand what was going on between the two of you just then and there.

‘Fuck it’ he said very loudly and leaned forward. Where did Yoongi found all of his courage to do all of this neither of you will ever know nor question. Because his nose was touching yours now, his eyes closed and his lips touching yours. And the both of you froze for a second. You didn’t back out but you didn’t kiss him back right away. You were trying to understand the motive behind his arm wrapped around you not beg for a kiss but he clearly read you wrong. Well wrong wasn’t the correct word. He understood you differently. And now his lips were at yours. Your stomach flipped and it felt like 10 thousand butterflies just hatched inside you and try to escape. You could tell he was nervous because his arm that was still wrapped around you was getting a little shaky and heavy. Without thinking too much anymore you started kissing him back and a slow and soft kiss turned into a slightly deeper one and he started grabbing you closer with the wrapped around you arm. You cupped his face with your hand and reciprocated every inch of his kiss. It felt like the both of you were floating above the seats now and nothing else really mattered anymore. The semi good film, the popcorn you had your eyes on for most of the duration of the film.

He finally had the guts to go for it. He didn’t know when was the next time will be, that it will be just the two of you in the cinema which for some reason he had really strong feelings about. It couldn’t be in the car. It also couldn’t be anywhere else. You kept making out until the film finished, without noticing and the lights turned on. Only then Yoongi realised that the film has finished and he let go of you and sat back in his seat. He didn’t say anything, he just smirked and then smiled with one of his gummy smiles to himself.

You got off your chair and looked at him for a second, really shy with flushed face. You were blushing, now that it wasn’t dark around the two of you. He followed, grabbed the rest of the popcorn bucket and took it with him to leave at the bin downstairs. Both of you silent, just moved towards the exit and then towards the exit of the building and straight to Yoongis mums car. No word, not a look not a sight was heard. The silence was deafening and it almost felt like either of you regretted what just happened. Yoongi couldn’t stop overthinking it. He was sure he fucked up. For once he had the guts to act the way he really felt and it all ruined your really long friendship. He just wanted to get you safe home and disappear for few days, give you time to breathe.

‘So…’ you finally opened your mouth as the both of you were standing in front of the car.

‘So..’ he answered looking away from you. Both of his hands in his pockets, playing with his shoe shyly. ‘Listen I know this wasn’t planned..’ he started again. He didn’t have a plan. Again. He didn’t know what he wanted to say. All he wanted to do is to lean you over the car and kiss you again and again. But you were still blushing and looking away from him just now.

‘It’s okay if you regret it’ you interrupted him right away. If? That sounded like you weren’t regretting it. He looked at you for the first time since you left the cinema. You were standing in front of him, pink nose from the wind outside, red cheeks and glary round eyes drilling into him.

‘I don’t..’ he braved it out of himself. He took a step towards you and you froze again. You turned your head to the side almost like asking a question and he took one of his hands out of the pockets of his hoodie and leaned forward towards you. ‘Come here’ he whispered and you took his hand. He pulled you closer and leaned you on the car door. Took few steps towards you, the tip of his nose touching yours. He bit his lip and then looked into your eyes. You gulped so loudly you could hear it. You closed your eyes before he closed his and he smirked and shook his head. Your insides flipped, the butterflies hatched in the second wave and started flustering inside you. You bit the inside of your mouth and patiently waited. But nothing happened. He was just there looking at you with your eyes closed. So you opened one of it and you saw him smiling. Gummy wide smile, eyes in half moons. Pure happiness and you have never seen him like this. ‘If I kiss you again, that will be it you know it?’ he finally managed to get few words out. ‘You will be mine and I won’t let you go’ he added before you had a chance to respond. And you nodded. That’s all you could do. Just nod. So he came closer and this time the both of you closed your eyes at the same time and his lips met yours again. It felt so right, it felt like this is what you have been waiting for, for years. Tears started rolling down your face as he kept kissing you more and more. And then he felt the tears and stopped.

‘Why.. why are you crying? Do you not want to?’ he got instantly worried and regretted being so confident in himself but you shook your head.

‘I didn’t know this was what I was waiting for, for all these years’ you answered and pulled him back to you. His head was spinning. You were his. He was holding you in his arms. He was kissing your lips. Finally. All the worries he always had stopped him from doing this went away. Maybe tomorrow he will think about it and worry about the future but for now. Now he had you and you were his.

‘I loved you from afar for years’ he didn’t think through what he was about to say. Today was the day he was just saying and doing everything he felt like was right. But you didn’t answer, just pulled him closer to you and hid your face in his arms. He hugged you so tight and wrapped his arms around you. And you felt safe. Like there was nothing else in the world that could hurt you. His pocket buzzed and he pulled out his phone to see a message from Taehyung.

'I hope you enjoyed ;)' . The both of you looked at the message and then saw Taehyung in a car parked opposite of you waving and showing his thumbs up.

[datura-tea]

holy shit this year marks 10 years of this blog and moz!! i can't remember the exact date i started posting here - my archive says i have one post from november 2013 but let's disregard that - but i do remember it was around late 2014/early 2015 :)

^ one of the very first moz art pieces i ever drew, for fallout week 2015!!

memories and art through the years under a read more bc it got long

2014 → baby's first rpg!! i started playing fnv on my cousin's jailbroken xbox late 2013 and finished mid 2014 and i loved every minute of it. i remember waking up at 8am and playing almost nonstop until 2am the next day haha!

i didn't play moz on my first playthrough - but i did start creating a character that would eventually become her: a shorthaired ex-boxer who punched her way through obstacles when diplomacy failed. i remember she spent a lot of time with boone. i liked him then, because he saved my ass more times than i can count. but i digress. this is draft 1 moz essentially

2015 → this is the year that i was doing my thesis so i could graduate but i was so depressed and stressed about it that i distracted myself by replaying fnv on pc, where i played through the dlcs for the first time. i fell in love with the dlcs' oversarching story; particularly ulysses, who i became obssessed with, especially since i couldn't find any content of him at the time. in the game, i played as moz; i had most of her personality and choices down, but her backstory was still up in the air.

fun fact: this was an existing sideblog that i remade to be a fallout blog so i could look for ulysses content, and when i couldn't find any, i made some myself, featuring moz as my main courier six. originally, i didn't ship them, but eventually i ended the year as a courier/ulysses otp shipper.

this was the year i started drawing digitally - my uncle let me borrow a drawing tablet and i used an old copy of photoshop i pirated hehe

2016 → i graduated this year!! and promptly fell deeper into my depression. this was the year that it got so bad that i had to be medicated. through it all, this blog and moz and ulysses and my fandom friends were with me. and for that i am truly grateful :) this was the year i figured out how to lock transparent pixels so that i could color my lineart lol

2017 → i started hammering out moz's backstory this year i think. there's a lot of sketches of her and her family in my files. i experimented with shading and backgrounds here but that experimentation was pretty short-lived

2018 → i started using references seriously!!!! i did a lot of oc on oc kissing this year, featuring mostly moz and many friend ocs haha

2019 → didn't draw much this year. actually this year was a blur and i can't remember much from it except from it being the year of my terrible no good bad copywriting jobs... anyway i did manage to continue my courier/ulysses brainrot and make this piece, which i'm still proud of

2020 → pandemic time. i spent a lot of time asleep at home and i think this was also the year i started doing commissions?? shoutout to anyone who has ever commissioned me - thank you so much, i truly appreciate it!!

2021 → i switched from my old-ass pirated photoshop to clip studio paint and never looked back. also i did a bunch of commissions for my grandmother's surgery, which failed, and i distracted myself from the sadness by drawing my ocs over and over and playing disco elysium

2022 → by this year, i've got moz down pat and have started vaguely developing other ocs instead. but she's still always at the back of my mind

2023 → i bought new brushes from true grit texture supply and immediately found new favorites that i started using for everything. i tentatively started incorporating background elements in some pieces!

2024 → while it's still too early to say where this year will lead me art-wise, i will say that i started experimenting in realistic paint studio (which i bought in 2021, the same time as clip studio paint) a few days ago and i'm liking the results so far. we'll see!

all in all, these last 10 years have been quite a ride, but i'm glad i stuck around and i'm glad you guys stuck around too!! much much love 💖💖💖

[lucysarah-c]

Hi,Lucy. How is your day going so far? Any exciting news?

I love your drawing and it inspired me to learn to draw. I was wondering if you could tell me more of your journey. How did you learn to draw, what do you use when you draw. What would you suggest for someone who has never drew to learn to draw.

Have a good day

Hi, love! How are you? How are your loved ones doing? I hope they are doing great. I'm alright, extremely busy, but it's okay! Thank you for asking!

Exciting? Mh, I got tickets to see Taylor Swift! That's exciting! But in other departments… mh, not really. I'm in the sweet and anxious wait to find out if I got accepted for the visa or not. It may take from 3 to 6 weeks… God, I'm so nervous!!

Oh my! I'm so grateful that I inspired you to create art! My art journey? Well, let me think. I've always liked to draw since I was a little kid. My grandmother from my father's side is an art restorer. She is extremely strict and would hit me with a ruler if I didn't get the perspective right, but she taught me a lot about traditional art, etc. I learned the most from her. We don't have much contact because of family stuff, but she taught me a lot, and I try to apply it to my digital art. With university and work, I don't have much time to practice, so I wish to improve faster and find which style I like, but I change my mind quite quickly, haha.

I have one of the cheapest digital tablets on the market, one of those that get connected to a computer. It's an XP PEN DECO 01 V2, which costs around $54 on Amazon (I checked). I use Krita, a free drawing program that runs on Windows. I honestly believe that while nice materials are good, there's no need to waste money you don't have on art products. My grandma used to tell me that if you can't create with just a simple pen, then it's a lack of practice and not the materials you use. If you're just starting out, I recommend doing traditional art. I drew with my mechanical pencil (the one I used for my math homework) for years until two years ago when I bought a digital tablet. If you already have a tablet or something similar like an iPad, there are plenty of tutorials to follow and get started.

Drawing is the art of your eyes admiring something, processing it in your head, and then translating it into movements in your hand. Start with easy first steps, don't be ashamed to search for references, and see how little by little your talent develops. I have days when I can't draw a single line, and other days where I make two movements with my wrist and create something that I'm proud of! Enjoy the journey, and remember that practice makes perfect! Kisses! stay safe!

[pbandjesse]

What an excellent day off. I had a great time just resting. But it was also a productive day.

I was really happy to be home. I had a great weekend in Philly but it's not the same as being home. And waking up with James is always really good.

I actually slept really well. Waking up was hard but it was okay. I felt kind of gross. I am still upset about cutting my bangs to short but I'm trying to not let it upset me. Though it is.

I got washed up and dressed. I had pulled this dress out of my dresser back at my parent's house. Felt nice and colorful. And it helped me feel a little nicer.

James had been doing the laundry. And was finishing up getting the clothes form the dryer. Which allowed up to really jump into our practice packing for the honeymoon.

I was really looking forward to this. I love packing and honestly it went so well. My list I made a few months ago really helped streamline the whole thing.

James would run around and grab everything that was nonclothes. And once that was all gathered we would both pull out clothes. I had made a list of types but I'm still not sure exactly which pieces will be coming with me. But that's alright. I had the size and amount. And so we were able to figure out which packing cubes we each needed. What bag is holding what things. And we did such a good job!! I had so much extra space in my backpack! I'm thrilled.

James said it was really a good idea to do this. Because they didn't know how their clothes were going to fit in the suitcase I gave them and now they have a better idea and really I just had fun.

Once we were done that we both put stuff away. I spent some time picking outfits for the week and then picking outfits for camping with Jess over Easter weekend. Which was hard only because I have so many good fleeces now. But I figured it out and I'm very happy with my choices.

James would go for a bike ride before it started raining. And I just enjoyed my time alone. I decided to finally start my next embroidery project. James got me this white bag last year. And it's just such a good open space to work on. So I'll fill it up. And it will just be a continuous project like my puhtok bag is.

I would do that for a while. And soon James was home. And it started to rain soon after that.

James would have lunch and get a shower. I was just chilling. And then it was time to go get groceries.

Which was a bit demoralizing. Everything is just so expensive. Yogurt was $3. The rice I like was $4! A two pack of peanut butter was $20!! It just felt bad. We both made guess for the total and James guessed only $1 off. But it didn't feel like we got much.

We drove over to the Walgreens to see if they have the magnesium I wanted but no luck. Though James thought it was interesting that they had krill pills.

We made one more stop at the fancy grocery store to get the vegan shrimp I like. And then we went home. After James put the groceries away I would get to work reorganizing our snack basket and the freezer. While James would work on the other room cutting bears out for my workshop this weekend. James is the best.

It was nice just organizing. Making things feel a little less cluttered. And once I was done I would have a snack and start working on my tablet.

James would come and lay with me for a bit. We watched tiktoks and just chilled until they made us dinner. I had a quesadilla and drew for the rest of the night.

Mom asked me to update the bear I made of her. Change the color to more of a periwinkle and give her better bangs. It took a while to get the color right but we got it! And then I spent the next few hours drawing the entire solar system. Which I am absolutely thrilled with. I learned some new stuff about the brushes I have and mixing colors. I was just having a ball.

Making them all on one sheet was also fun and a challenge. Trying to make them relatively in scale took a whole. It's just a really nice project.

I took a shower and washed my hair and now I am chilling in bed with James and Sweetp and I am going to dry my hair a bit and get ready to sleep.

Tomorrow I am at the museum. And it should be a good day. I hope I have good kids. I hope you all have a great night. Sleep well and be safe!!!

[glamourooze]

I just wanna rant for a bit because I'm at a tipping point rn and need to get this off my chest before I explode.

Ok, so I'm disabled. Hello. I have rheumatoid arthritis and have had it since I was twelve, so over half my life and until the end of time. I am also an artist which my arthritis (lol) doesn't like. If I want to make art then my time, energy, motivation, and creativity levels all have to be in sync along with my pain level. And guess what. They NEVER ARE. I'm in pain rn. My right ankle hurts so badly that it feels like it's going to snap in two, but idk where my ankle brace is or even my wrap, so I have to walk around my house trying to find them. That means I'm putting weight on my bad ankle and/or putting extra weight on my other leg to compensate.

Anyway, I can't find either one to help me, so now I'm in bed and in even MORE pain because the extra weight on my left leg gave me new pain in my shin, knee and hip. Now I have pain in my right forearm and wrist from searching the house. I can't even write or type rn because of my forearm pain. It hurts just typing this up, and I'm going so slow and using my non-dominant hand as much as possible. I want my pain to come after I type, write or draw a lot, not before I get to do anything.

I hate myself for not finishing the art I promised to people, especially art fight. I only got 4 attacks done. That's just 1 a week! I've tried to make things easier for me. I save hands I've drawn so if I'm in a 'pain day' I can copy and paste a few hands instead of drawing them out. Sometimes if I'm not in pain but don't have the energy, I'll just draw a bunch of hands to be used later. Same with, like, bodies. I have a "doll" I guess you could call it, that I drew a while ago that I use as a skeleton for most poses. I already sketched it, so I don't need to hurt myself to get the ball rolling on a new piece of art. I'm also looking into other things to help me like a grip for my tablet pencil so I'm not hurting myself. I tend to grip it super tightly and my hand locks up so I'm stuck in a drawing position. ✍️ <---like that

This is why I barely post art and never publish any fanfics. Most of them are still stuck in my head. I can't get them out because of pain or lack of energy/time. It's a nightmare. If I'm being truthful....sometimes it feels like my disability is keeping me from forming relationships or having friends. I mean, you need the energy to talk to people to even start to form a friendship, and then you need to maintain the relationship. Sometimes I feel like a mermaid and everyone else are the humans I'm not allowed to talk to.

I'm sorry. I feel like I got a little rambly here. And kinda whiny too? Idk. Feel free to ignore me. It's fine. This was long. I’m promise you are not going to hurt my feelings if you ignore this. I just really needed to get all this out.

[thegalleonsnest]

INTERVIEW CHORDICAL Time to ask the artist questions.

Figured I make the most of my down time due to my tablet going on fritz and ordering a new one, so I went ahead and drew this out in my sketchbook for the authentic journalist sketch style. It probably looks a bit cleaner than the actual style, but only because I was using super light H pencils before outlining.

Anyway, I actually wrote out the interview months ago, but never got around to uploading it, so they’re down here if you wanna read! It’s a bit longer than the average interview, but hey, my oc, I do what I want lol.

Who are you?

My name is Chordical Gallopano. I’m an artist who just graduated, but art’s not exactly at the top of my priority list at the moment.

Why is that? Are you going through an art block?

Eh, kind of? I guess it’s a bit of a small burn out, but I’ve gotten over it for the most part. If anything, I’m taking some time off to focus on myself. I still draw here and there, just not all that often. Mostly been helping Gramble at his barn.

Why come to Snaktooth Island?

Actually, the main reason was because I won a vacation raffle! I never really have faith in those raffles, but I was just like, “eh, screw it,” and gave it a shot. I was slacked jawed when I got the call about it too, hehe.

Wait, Lizbert held a raffle?

Well, yes she did, but my situation’s different. I found out that Lizbert held her own raffle, and Shelda won that one. The raffle I won let me pick a vacation of my choosing, as long as it was within the country; and then I remembered hearing about Lizbert’s trip to Snaktooth. Honestly, I didn’t care what grumps were saying about Lizbert and her Bugsnax discovery being real or not. It gave me a reason to go with her on her expedition. Thank grump that Lizbert wasn’t super finicky with external raffles and let me come anyway!

So was there any other reason you picked Snaktooth?

Erm...um...The best way that I could put it is that...I needed to get away. I needed a break from some stuff. I...rather not talk about it, at least not on the record. I would appreciate that.

Thoughts on Bugsnax?

Gonna be real, I’m not that into them like the rest of the guys here. They’re more annoying to deal with...and they’re a bit unnerving.

What’s wrong with them? Don’t you eat them too?

I mean, yes, I do, but only when I really have to. I’m pretty sure you noticed but uh, I rather not be stuck with nubs for paws for a week. I can’t draw without my fingies, and sketch paper isn’t exactly built for bacon grease media. There’s a couple of bugsnax that give me claws or something to work with, but even still, I prefer my fuzzy paws instead of cheepoof dust.

What exactly makes them “unnerving” to you?

It’s...hard to pinpoint why, but something about them rubs me the wrong way. I mean, they only exist on this island, apparently, and they turn your arms and legs into food. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I would be one of those Grumpuses to yell “HOORAY” for having a weenie arm...At least they’re kind of cute as pets I guess.

Why did you leave town?

Honestly, the entire fight between Gramble and Wambus was something that hit its boiling point after being at each other’s throats for a while. They would constantly be fighting and bickering because of petty crap, and they wouldn’t settle things like adults! I had no choice but to basically be the mediator between them for months. It sucks. Even though I’m friends with both of them, I had to go with Gramble and help him.

What were they fighting about exactly?

If you’ve talked to Gramble already, he was right about one thing: Wambus broke into his barn and started snaknapping his little buddies. I actually SAW it happen too! Lizbert was only gone for a day; I get that we gotta eat, but what Wambus did was downright dirty. I just wish that they could just TALK about it instead of baring their fangs all the time. Otherwise, I don’t think we would have been in this mess to begin with.

Why did you go with Gramble and not Wambus?

Listen, Wambus is an older farmer grumpus, he can take care of himself. We’re still on good terms, but whatever beef he’s got with Gramble is between them. I’m just trying to mediate as best I can. I had to go help Gramble because have you SEEN the poor guy? He’s a wreck with how little sleep he gets! Not to mention he’s barely eating anything other than sauce and whatever science experiment Shelda had cooking up at the time! I’ve been helping out at his barn since almost the start, and I care about him...someone has to look after him.

Any info on Lizbert?

Lizbert is pretty cool, not gonna lie. I actually asked her if she needed any help documenting any of the Bugsnax and she’d let me go out with her and do live studies of them. I drew a good chunk of the bugsnax in her notes and helped keep them organized. For who she is, she is really encouraging and friendly. She would honestly be a good big sister if you let her, heh! She kept everyone fed from her hunts, but I don’t think she was keeping up with everyone. Like, socially, I mean.

Did she ever talk to the other Grumpuses?

Of course she did, but I don’t think she was really paying enough attention. It’s one thing to be a leader, but it’s another to actually listen to someone’s problems. I know she really cared about her partner, Eggabell, but I could tell she was a major priority most of the time. I think it’s because she spent more time hunting than actually being in town most of the time. If she had a break and someone else took over the hunting, I could see her spending time with the other Grumpuses, but as it stood, no one was willing to take her place. That’s probably why she did it anyway, in case they disappeared like she and Eggabell did.

Do you know what happened to Lizbert and Eggabell?

I wish I knew. The only thing I do know is that we were supposed to go to the mountains to document a few more Bugsnax and study some weird structures, but she ended up taking Eggabell instead. I know they had a falling out a few days beforehand, so maybe Lizbert decided that it would have been better if it was just the two of them so they could sort out their issues. But then that earthquake hit not too long after...Grump I hope they’re ok.

Thanks, Chordical. This was all very informative.

Hey, I’m glad I could give ya something to work with! If you ever need someone to talk to or just chill with for a bit, I’ll be hanging at Gramble’s. Bet we could compare some art notes while we’re at it!

[not-xpr-art]

Art Advice #4 - A Beginner’s Guide to Digital Art

Hi all!

This weeks entry into my Art Advice tag, where I offer various advice for artists of any skill level, is about digital art! Now, I am by no means an expert at digital (I’ve been doing it for nearly 8 years at this point and that is almost entirely self taught), but I have picked up a few pointers in that time which will hopefully help anyone just starting out!

(this blogpost is a little over 2000 words long btw)

A Beginner’s Guide to Digital Art 

I know that the world of digital art has changed drastically in the 8 odd years since I started, but I’d still say that some of the options I started out with will be just as good for anyone who’s starting out now! 

As always, I’ll be splitting this into sections to make it easier for you to navigate this post!

Part 1 - Equipment/Hardware 

There are a lot of drawing tablet options on the market at the moment, and I’m not going to pretend that I know anything about half of them lol. But I think for a beginner, don’t worry about going for the most expensive option, even if the reviews are really good or your favourite artist uses it, especially if it is way above your budget! 

An important thing to know is that there are two types of tablet. One is the plug-in kind. These are essentially a pad which you plug into your laptop or computer and draw on that whilst looking at the screen (they basically work the same way as a plug in mouse works). The other kind is the screen variety, which is a lot more like what most of us know as ‘tablets’ nowadays. And you draw directly onto the screen. 

(a plug-in vs on screen tablet, both from Wacom)

Now, as for choosing between these, it is honestly a personal choice. But I’d say if you’re just wanting to try digital and you’re on a budget, a plug-in tablet can be really useful since it gets you used to the mechanics of what digital is like, and they are often significantly cheaper than the screen alternatives. I would say that plug-in tablets are a big learning curve, especially if you’re used to doing traditional stuff, but I do know a lot of professional artists who still use this kind of tablet when doing their work, so if it’s something you can get used to I would definitely consider it! Also, they’re often a lot more portable than some screen tablets! The first one I had was a Huion (a model so old that I can’t even find a link to it now lol), and I also know that Wacom are a well known brand that do some decent plug-in tablet. I’d recommend you do your own research on other brands and options, though!

Screen tablets are often a lot more expensive, but if you’re used to traditional art, they are a lot easier to get a handle of! But I know if you already have something like an iPad, or other general use tablets, then they offer apps that you can use to draw on (as well as things like the Apple pen, or other stylus’). The big difference between using these general tablets and ones specifically designed for drawing is pretty much purely a personal choice. I personally prefer the bigger screen of my XP-Pen tablet, along with a special screen protector that removes the shininess of the tablet screen and makes it feel more like ‘paper’ over when I used a general use tablet it draw. But if you already have an iPad, or something similar, then it’s honestly a really great starting point!

I think it’s important for me to mention that you don’t need fancy equipment to be an artist. The incredible Elicia Donze has revealed countless times how she has very basic equipment but still manages to produce the most stunning artworks! All you really need is some kind of drawing apparatus and a lot of patience lol! Getting good at any kind of art takes a lot of time and effort, but I would definitely say it’s worth it when you’re able to look back at your progress!

Part 2 - Software/Drawing Programs 

Much like with the hardware discussion, choosing which program to use is entirely down to personal preference. I personally have never really liked Photoshop purely because it’s really complicated, but I know so many artists swear by it. 

I think the main aspect to consider when you’re starting out is whether you want to pay for a program. Software like Photoshop, Clip Studio Paint and Procreate are some of the popular ones I hear about a lot of people using, but all require you to purchase or subscribe to them. So if you’re young or on a very tight budget, I’d honestly recommend the free alternative versions of these, such as Krita (Krita is quite a large program, but it has a lot of really awesome features and is very similar to Photoshop!), Gimp (this one is similar to Krita, but has slightly less options, I’d honestly recommend Gimp for anyone who does photo editing though!) or FireAlpaca (this is the one I use, by the way and it’s a pretty simple program, but has a lot of fantastic features and is perfect for how I work!). These don’t have as many features as some of the paid alternatives, but I honestly think all you really need to start digital art is some kind of ‘canvas’ and set of brushes!

Another great free program for beginners I’d recommend is MyPaint, which is great for doodling and just getting used to how digital art feels in comparison to traditional! It also has a bunch of ‘traditional style’ brushes, to make it look like charcoal or watercolour (which I’m sure the paid alternatives have too, but it’s always better when it’s free, I find lol...)

(this is an example of a drawing I did on MyPaint using the ‘charcoal’ effect brush!)

Most of the sites are pretty self explanatory, with sections dedicated to different brushes (I’ll go into the types of brushes later on in this post btw!), adjusting brush size, shape and opacity, a colour wheel, etc. You also have a section dedicated to ‘layers’ (another thing I’ll go into more detail later), and various ‘filters’ and editing options and effects you can add to your work to make it more interesting!

I’d really just recommend playing around with programs until you find your one!

Part 3 - The Pros of Digital Art!

I realise this section should probably earlier in this blog post lol, but I kinda wanted to go into what digital art can achieve in comparison to traditional art, and how beginner artists can utilise this!

I definitely didn’t take advantage of certain aspects of digital art when I first got into it, and they’re things that would have definitely made my life a whole lot easier lol!

Digital art allows you to tweak drawings as you do them. So if you accidentally drew the eye too far to the right, then you can easily move it to the right place. (I usually do this by selecting whichever area is wrong, cutting it out and then pasting it into a new area... And yes, there is probably a better and quick way of doing this but...I haven’t found that way yet lol...). And I honestly think that this has allowed me to look a lot more at a reference image in order to figure out where I’ve gone wrong with a drawing! Whereas with traditional art, I usually spend so long trying to get an eye right, that even if it’s slightly in the wrong place, I don’t want to completely redo that section. Digital allows you to completely rub out sections without leaving indents, which is honestly such a saving grace!

Another pro of digital is the Undo/Ctrl Z function! This means you can easily go back to before you made a major mistake with just a click of Ctrl Z... Though I have to say that this function has honestly ruined traditional art for me... Oh what wouldn’t I give for a real life Ctrl Z... But yeah, this is a great part of digital art and definitely something you will grow to love lol!

Another great thing about digital is that it allows you to flip and turn a canvas as you’re drawing on it. I spent a lot of time trying to turn my tablet around in order to draw certain parts of a piece before I realised you can turn the canvas itself without having to move yourself or your tablet!

Layers are another part of digital that can be super useful, and I have to be honest but I don’t really use them a lot. I know a lot of artists create layers for every section of their artworks (so, one for the linework, one for colouring, a separate one for the background, etc etc...). And there’s something really great about being able to paint without worrying about smudging into a previous section of the painting. This works well for my work since I do a lot of bright backgrounds. I also often create a lot of ‘versions’ of my works, so it’s useful to be able to change the background without affecting the main figure of the piece! (I have to say that I often work in one big layer when I’m doing paintings, just because I like how it feels more like ‘traditional’ art that way, but layers are such a brilliant tool, and definitely something you should play around with!)

The eyedropper tool is another one that is really useful! Although I never colour pick from my reference photos, I know some artists find this useful when they were just starting out (especially if you’re not sure what colour to make shadows or how to mix skin tones, etc etc). The eyedropper basically means you don’t need to mix your colours every time

Part 4 - Just some other things I wish I had known about when I was starting out lol...

This last section is just dedicated to a few things that I would have liked to have known when I was just starting out all those years ago. 

First one is fluffy/textured brushes! 

I spent most of my art life from 2013 until 2016 using ‘round’ brushes which are notoriously hard to blend with, so I’d recommend either downloading some fluffy/textured brushes (DeviantArt was where I got mine from a few years back, but there are probably other places you can get them for free too!) to your program of choice, since most of the programs I’ve used haven’t had fluffy/textured brushes as pre-set. 

I may make another post about how I blend in my artworks if that’s something people would be interested in?

(this is an example of textured brush blending vs round brush blending... I usually opt for round brushes for rougher blending styles and the textured brushes for more smooth and ‘realistic’ blending... for a lot of pieces, though, I use both brushes (the round brushes are good for details!) in the same way that you use different sized brushes for real paintings!)

The next thing I wish I’d discovered earlier is the Brush Stabiliser option. Some programs may do this automatically, but the one I use (FireAlpaca) requires you to manually change the amount of stabilising you have on your brush. This is particularly useful if you want to draw neat lines or straight lines (the stabiliser essentially slows down the ‘ink’ as you’re drawing). I only recently started using the stabiliser, and although I still like having it mostly turned ‘off’ for doing sketchy work, it does make doing line work a lot easier, and also gives pieces a more polished look!  

Next advice is to explore all the options you can in whatever program you use! 

I feel like with certain programs, you can get overwhelmed by choice and you end up just using a few of the functions. But I’d really recommend just playing around with these programs, trying all the filters and editing options to get used to how the program works. You can often find interesting ways to adjust your artworks this way! In a way I’d recommend this way of working more than finding tutorials made by other people... Unless there’s a specific function you want to learn how to do, just having fun with digital art is a major part of it’s appeal to me! 

~

There are probably a lot of other options I could go into, but this is already over 2000 words long, so I’ll leave it here for now lol! (I may do a part 2 though so... keep a look out for that!)

As always, if you have any questions to things I’ve said here, or are just looking for more advice, don’t hesitate to message me!

And if you like my work on here (art & blog posts) feel free to support me on my Ko-Fi! <3

[underworld-of-imagines]

Alone - Spencer Reid

Prompt: “Did you get any sleep last night?”

TW: Heavy mentions of death, angst

A/N: Hey guys so this is something I worked on for a few days. I got the idea from a list of dialogue prompts I have.

Part 2

“Why didn’t you save me?”

You shot up like a bullet, your heart racing as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. The cold air burned your lungs as you drew in deep breaths, your ears still ringing from the nightmare. Your sweat-soaked shirt clung to your body, leaving a sticky residue over your skin.

Glancing at your alarm clock you let out a big groan, 4:23AM, you had barely made it 2 hours.

Knowing you wouldn’t make it back to sleep, you dragged yourself out of bed and into your kitchen. Tipping out your now cold coffee, you set about making a new hot cup to awaken your mind for the excruciatingly long day ahead. The bitter coffee burned your tongue, too lazy to care about the taste or burning you downed the cup quickly. You filled the cup again, downing it once more before throwing the cup into the over-piling sink.

The nightmares since your sisters death had been relentless, torturing you past the point of exhaustion. Avery, your sister, was killed by a drunk driver a mere two weeks ago. You weren’t very close to your younger sister, but still her sudden and painful death left you with a myriad of nightmares that followed. Your parents had already died, quite a few years ago, leaving only you and your sister to carry on the family line. But now, you were the only one left, left alone to deal with the aftermath of your sister’s death.

Hell, you and your sister weren’t close. In fact, you couldn’t be more opposite from each other. But that didn’t stop the love you had for her. Sure, you fought, every sibling fights every now and then. She didn’t approve of your work and you didn’t approve of hers; yours was dangerous, hers wasn’t enough to support her. You made it work though. Because you loved your sister.

And now, she was gone, just like your parents.

Your apartment seemed empty, no one else had ever lived there, but the hole in your heart made a hole in your apartment. You were alone. The photos of your family that you once proudly displayed now sat in a box, painful memories of everything you had lost.

Tired of standing in your apartment, you reached for your car keys before leaving the apartment. Driving was one of your favourite ways to get things off of your mind. You didn’t have to think of the pain, or the loss. It was just you and the road.

4am meant mostly empty roads, and tired drivers who wanted to be anywhere else but there. Except for you, you were wide awake and looking for the perfect distraction from your thoughts. Turning on the radio, you waited for a quiet sad song to start playing before pulling out of your apartment’s parking lot. It was the perfect distraction.

After a few hours of driving, you got a call from Hotch on your way back to your apartment.

“We got a case; briefing is in 30 minutes.” He announced sharply before hanging up. Letting out a loud sigh, you turned around and drove back towards the office. Luckily, you had thought ahead and thrown your go bag into the backseat of your car, along with a change of clothes for work. You weren’t really planning on heading home before work started. Instead, hoping that you’d find something to entertain yourself with.

“Y/L/N, how nice of you to join us.” Emily teased jokingly as you rushed into the briefing room, breathless from the quick change you had done.

“Sorry, long night.” You apologised before sitting in your seat, the tablets being handed around by Penelope.

“Oh, was he good?” Emily said teasingly.

“Um, what?” You questioned. Confused, you looked at her before realising that she thought you were with a guy.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Derek asked, his eyes watching you carefully. You glanced at him nervously, avoiding his eyes. He already knew the answer, they all did.

Hotch cleared his throat, drawing the room’s attention back to the case at hand.

“Okay, so we have a murdered couple in Sheridan, Wyoming. It’s a small town with about 18,000 people. The local police department have done some investigating but came up with no viable leads. This is believed to be the third couple murdered in a string of crimes. We’ve been asked to come in and help catch the unsub.” JJ explained, pictures flashing up on the screen of the couple.

You zoned out, focusing on the photo of the female on the screen. Her black hair was the same colour of your sisters, her lips the same shade of pink. She looked scarily like your sister, so much so, that if your sister weren’t already dead, you’d be convinced that it was her.

“Y/N, come on we’re leaving in 30 minutes.” Reid announced, nudging your side almost painfully to bring you out of your trance.

Spencer was your closest friend at the BAU, you told him everything, from a book you read, to some interesting fact you had found out. You knew about his mum, and even had gone to meet her with him once. But this is something you wanted to keep to yourself, you didn’t want pity, or help – you just wanted to get over how you were feeling. Admittedly, you had hoped there was something more between you and him, but he never acted, so you assumed it was just platonic for him.

“Oh, yeah.” You nodded before standing up and leaving the room hastily, you didn’t want Reid to know why you were acting so weird. He was a genius; he’d figure it out somehow.

*****

You wrapped your jacket tighter around your body as the chills set into your bones. For some ungodly reason, the air-conditioning on the plane was always colder than necessary, and you always needed a jacket for the ride. Jokingly, your sister used to call you lizard, because of the fact that you were always cold, no matter the temperature outside.

“So, anybody got any ideas?” Hotch asked as you sat around the plane, everyone moving closer to discuss the case. You zoned out of the conversation; your eyes warily trained on the closed file in before you.

“Y/L/N go visit the last crime scene.” You zoned back into the conversation, focusing on Hotch who was sitting across from you. “The families of those victims are on their way, so we’ll touch base with them when they arrive.” Hotch assigned your roles, leaving you to continue looking over the cases on your way to the location.

*****

“Mr. Morrison was killed over here, coroner put his death at before Miss. Turner’s, who was killed in the bedroom.” You followed the officer into the bedroom, unconsciously taking notes of both the victim’s lives and their deaths.

“Were there any signs of sexual assault on the female?” You questioned, averting your eyes from the large blood stain on the bed.

“Not from what we could tell, although it seems like the killer may have positioned the body postmortem.” Around the room there were several photos of the seemingly happy couple, as well as some of their respective families. Walking over to the nightstand you noticed the slightly open bottom drawer.

“Has this been searched?” You questioned, pointing towards the open drawer before you.  

“No.” Usually you refrained from looking into one’s personal lives so much, but you needed to find any link you could between the victims.

Bending down, you opened the bottom drawer. Inside the drawer were a pile of magazines and catalogues, all about weddings and relationships. On top, was a black velvet box with a small silver leaf imprinted on it. Opening it, you saw that it was empty, the engagement ring missing from the box.

“Was she found with an engagement ring?” You questioned, examining the back of the box.  

“No, she wasn’t.” You showed the empty box to the officer, who eyed it curiously.

“So, where’s the ring?”

*****

Cold water dripped down your face, chilling your skin as you leaned against the basin, your elbows resting on the counter. The cold-water working miracles to awaken your mind again, shocking you into a state of semi-consciousness. Sucking in a deep breath, you splashed your face with more cold water again before looking up at your reflection in the mirror. You looked beyond exhausted, sunken, dark purple eyebags, pale skin, slightly sunken in skin. It was a wonder you hadn’t passed out from exhaustion entirely.

The door to the bathroom opened, Emily stepping into the small space. She quickly noticed you, and your distressed appearance. You watched as she cautiously stepped towards you, her hand extended out slightly.

“Y/N?” She asked, her hand resting gently on your shoulder. “Are you okay?” You held your composure as you dried your face, forcing your lips into a gentle smile.

“Yeah, just been a rough day. This case isn’t easy,” you lied. Profiling made lying come easy to you, you could lie through your teeth about almost anything now.

“Bullshit. Something is wrong, the whole team can tell. You’ve been hurting for weeks. You obviously haven’t been sleeping, and you’re distracted almost all of the time. We’re worried about you,” tears pricked at your eyes as Emily spoke, her words hitting deep into your heart. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” She assured, her hand gently rubbing your back in circular motions.

“My sister-” you choked, the ball in your throat hardening, “she was killed in a car accident. Drunk driver.” Emily let out a painful sigh, her arms pulling you into a tight hug. “It happened about 2 weeks ago; I haven’t been able to sleep since.” You admitted, the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“Y/N, why didn’t you tell us?” She questioned, tears pricking at her eyes as well.

“Because I need to deal with it on my own. I can’t take time off, the team needs me, victims need me. But I’m getting better,” you forced a smile to try and convince her of your words.

“You need time to heal Y/N. We can find a way to manage without you. You’re all alone in this aren’t you?” Reluctantly, you nodded your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I’m sorry,” she apologised. “Taking some time off might help you though. It’s easy to tell that you’re exhausted and not working at your best. Nobody will blame you; we just want what’s best for you.” She reminded, her words full of warmth and heart.

“Thank you,” your voice was quiet, but she smiled, nonetheless.

“We’re here for you.”

*****

The door to Hotch’s office swung in, Hotch stood on the other side of the doorway, a grim expression on his face.

“Y/N, come on in.” You nodded, following him into the large office that you had only seen a few times. “What’s the meaning of this meeting?” He questioned, his eyes not averting from yours.

“I-I’d like to request some time off sir. My sister passed away a few weeks ago, and I thought I could handle it and work. But I haven’t been able to,” you admitted, hanging your head in shame. Anyone else on the team could have handled grieving and work, or at least separated the two from one another. You couldn’t, everywhere you went, your sister was there. Everything you did, she was there.

“Why didn’t you tell us Y/N?” Hotch’s body relaxed, a sad expression washing over his face.

“I didn’t feel like you guys needed to know.” You admitted shamefully, regret laced into your words.

“We’re your team Y/N, you should have told us.” He chastised; his voice thick with sadness.

“I know sir, I’m sorry I didn’t.” You paused in silence for a minute, the air thick as you thought of your actions. “Can I take a few weeks off sir? I promise it won’t be long, I just need some time to grieve and sort through things,” you assured, your eyes pleading.

“Of course, Y/N, take however long you need.” He reached for a piece of paper, handing it to you. “Just fill this out and send it back to me in a few days. I’ll sort out the rest.” Grateful, you took the piece of paper out of his hand, holding it gently in your own.

“Thank you, sir, see you when I come back.” You appreciated, shaking his hand briefly before walking out of the office.

The bullpen was now empty, everyone having already left to go home for a few days after the long case. You had successfully caught the killer, right before he killed another couple. Turns out he had been hunting couples looking to get engaged, because his ex-girlfriend had turned down his proposal.

The team had agreed to go out for drinks after the case, to celebrate yet another win. You had opted out of going to the bar, instead lying that you had some things you wanted to do. It wasn’t a complete lie. But thankfully, the boys had believed it. JJ and Garcia were a bit more suspicious. Emily just watched you warily, already knowing what you were going to do when you got home.

Since you had told her of your sister, she was more than understanding of your actions. And even helped you out by bringing you coffee and checking in on you. She was one of your closest friends, and you were ever grateful for her.

Grabbing your bag, you packed away some important stuff from your desk before looking around the empty bullpen – it was your home away from home. Letting out a small sigh, you hitched your bag over your shoulder before walking out of the bullpen, aware of Hotch watching you walk towards the elevators.

*****

~3RD PERSON POV~

“Hey, has anyone heard from Y/N lately?” Derek question as he walked into the break area, everyone was spread around the small area, chatting between themselves. Emily stayed quiet, glancing at Hotch who was now paying attention to current issue. The team had a right to know at least something for your sudden disappearance.

“Some things happened recently, and Y/N needed to take some time off to deal with them.” Emily spoke up, being careful not to release any telling information. Knowingly, Hotch glanced at her, he didn’t know that Emily knew, but now it made sense since Y/N wouldn’t have gone to him without being pushed.

“She was pretty out of it for the past few weeks,” JJ pointed out. The team had picked up on your behaviour and knew something was wrong from the day after her death, when you walked in late with bloodshot eyes.

“Team, Y/N took some time off for personal reasons. I can’t go much into it, but a family member passed away and she was struggling with the situation. She requested some time off to deal. I know it hasn’t been easy for her lately, so please, can we stop speculating and give her privacy.” Hotch requested, putting his coffee mug back down on the bench. Spencer glanced up at him, his eyes full of concern as he profiled his supervisor.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, standing up and grabbing his coffee. He hurried back to his desk, quickly sitting down, and sending you a hasty text.

S: Are you okay?

He waited for what seemed like forever for your response. It was only a few minutes before his phone dinged with a response.

You: So, you found out?

He ignored the pain of your harsh response as he quickly typed a response.

S: Why didn’t you tell me?

You: I didn’t feel the need to. I didn’t want anyone to find out. Emily convinced me to tell Hotch after she cornered me on the last case.

S: I thought we were close though?

You: Spencer, we are close. But this is something I wanted to deal with on my own.

He sensed your hesitation in the text, the lie that you blatantly told. Spencer knew you better than anyone, he could read you like a book. You couldn’t get anything past him.

S: Do you want me to come over?

He watched carefully as the three dots appeared and disappeared a few times. Letting out a groan, he put his phone down, he knew you needed someone to help, to talk to. But he couldn’t help but feel stupid for asking. Obviously, you didn’t want him around, or you would have told him earlier.

You: Please

With that simple word, he jumped up and practically ran over to the break area. His pleading eyes looked at Hotch, and before he could even open his mouth, Hotch spoke.

“Go,” Hotch acquiesced. He knew that you needed someone, and Spencer was the someone you needed.

Part 2

[hansolmates]

vernon; blossomed (m)

feat. tattoo artist!vern x flower shop fem!reader based on nonnie’s big brain

genre/warnings: flangst, lang, wild generalizations of how tattooing works, gratuitous love for side characters, mild drinking, phineas and ferb references, mild foreplay

word count: 12k

Vernon called you his Rose. 

Not exactly his Rose, because you were definitely not anyone’s property and he wanted to give you nothing but your full autonomy, but it’s because he’s never had the chance to ask for your real name. 

But when he first spotted you in the little lavender and honey colored flower shop across the street, you were tending to the rose bushes at the front entrance. You were cutting roses and you didn’t look utterly graceful, in fact you stabbed yourself more than once with the thorns. He couldn’t help but laugh when you laughed when your co-worker had to hand you a new bandage every minute. 

He decided then that he liked you, even if it’s not wholly sexual or romantic, he liked you. 

Or maybe he just liked the idea of you, the way you’d lounge around in the canopy swing with your boots tucked under the seat, fluffy yellow socks wiggling out in the sun. Sometimes you’d read a book, sometimes for well over an hour. He liked how you soaked up the heat and created your own little world, happily unproductive. 

It was only a seven meter walk from the flower shop to the tattoo parlor, but the view from his front window required zero walking distance and a sure-fire lack of ever bumping into you. 

“Vernie’s got a crush on the Flower Girl,” Yoongi sing-songed, chugging along a box full of random-ass materials that Vernon was supposed to clean in the morning. 

Vernon scowled, and swatted away the older one’s hand when it dived in front of his face. 

Yoongi whistled like he was an old-time animation, singing the day away. “Vernie’s stalking his crush.” 

“I’m not stalking,” Vernon snapped, swiveling around in his rolling chair. “that involves shit like literally following her around,  photography, I dunno, being a weirdo?” 

“You definitely qualify for one of those.” Yoongi replied tartly, and he fought the urge to grin when Vernon finally turned back to the window, only to narrowly miss your form. The swing was now unoccupied, the only thing remnant were your working boots lined up against the entrance. “It’s been what, two weeks? Just ask her out already.” 

“You think I would’ve done that by now if there wasn’t a reason why?“ 

Soooo you were dating someone. Some super tall, super handsome guy would stroll up to the flower shop every morning, coffee in hand. Before you’d take your proffered coffee, he’d pucker his lips for a good-morning kiss in repayment. Vernon looked back to Yoongi, who was staring right back at him and confirming his suspicions that yes he was being a fucking weirdo for paying attention to things like that. 

Yoongi pressed his lips together, puffing his cheeks out in slight irritation. “So you’re stalking a taken girl,” he whistled lowly, “should I regret hiring you?” 

“Not funny.” 

“As repayment for effectively creeping me out,” The older one slipped his hand into his electric yellow windbreaker to twirl Vernon a ring of keys. “You’re closin’ up for tonight.” 

The brunette’s jaw dropped to his lap, and he got up from his spot by the window. “What? What happened to Minghao?” 

“Sick,” Yoongi shrugged. 

Closing up meant that Vernon had to stay until 12AM, at the very least. The area was off a college town and that meant a lot of young lucrative artists would stop by pretty late, hence the closing time. Usually Yoongi and Minghao were the night owls, but tonight Minghao was supposed to fly solo because Yoongi landed a last-minute recording gig. “C’mon, can I at least close early?” Vernon whined, “it’s summer. No one’s here.” 

“What, ya gotta date or something?” Yoongi smirked, swinging the entrance open. Halfway out the door, he added loftily, “don’t forget to water Patricia. It’s been two weeks.” 

The door slammed and Vernon was left alone. He spared a glance at the window, only to see that your boots were now gone from the patio and only one light was on in the shop. Vernon turned to his company for the night, their jade succulent, aptly named Patricia Planty. 

With Patricia Planty watered and a stomach full of Wendy’s nuggets in his body, Vernon busied himself up for a grueling five hours. Thankfully he brought in his laptop, as if he were expecting Yoongi to pull a fast one on him tonight. He drew some random things on his tablet: rockets, stars, the occasional squirrel, and roses. When he was tired of drawing, he’d blast the speakers off the joint and mess around with some of his music programming. When he was tired of doing both, he’d vegetate on the couch and read Reddit articles. 

It was past eleven when the first customer of the night stumbled in. Vernon fought the urge to groan, putting down the pen of his tablet on a particularly intricate constellation. 

“We’re closed!” He yelled through the office door. A white lie, but who would know? 

“Google said you were open until 12!” A voice yelled back, sounding slightly strained. 

Crap. Vernon lowered the volume and pushed away the swivel chair, swinging the office door open. With a rough clear of his throat and hoping not to look like too much of a jerk, he faced his customer, “Welcome to Nu ABO—” 

It was you. Cheeks ruddied, and your eyes glassed with a fresh glaze of tears. Your lower lip worried into a wobbly frown. Vernon’s Reebok’s glued to the concrete of the parlor, effectively stopping him in his tracks. The smell of mulch and a mixture of flowers penetrated his nostrils, but it did nothing to distract the utter hurt etched on your face. 

“Um, hey,”  his voice was gentle, yet unsure. “What are you doing here?” 

You just looked at him, incredulous. Vernon could have sworn he saw your left eyebrow twitch. Of course, you’ve never met him in your entire life, yet Vernon felt like he knew you since the beginning of your summer work. “Gettin’ a tattoo.” You replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, rubbing away a stray tear. 

He didn’t want to say it, but Vernon sighed and reasoned, “But it’s just that, ya kinda look—” 

You brushed past him, going straight into the artist room and plopping on the worn leather chair meant for customers. It was still high up because Vernon was cleaning the underside of the metal, so you had to do a little hop to get on. “I don’t care what kind of design. I looked up your Yelp online and everything looked pretty good.” And you then proceeded to unbutton the top of your blouse. 

“Holy shit,” he bounded over to you, grappling his fingers between your shirt before you could undo the rest of it. His breath was probably hot and heavy, compared to yours which was fresh from the cool summer air. Your faces were so close, closer than he ever fathomed. He didn’t think you two would meet this early in the year, as he was emotionally preparing to visit your flower shop at the end of the month, making up some spiel on how he needed to purchase real roses to replicate a commission. Not now. Now was a spontaneous episode, where he was trying to refasten your shirt and ignore the petal pink lace of your bra baiting his eyes. 

When he sensed that you would in fact, stop taking your shirt off, he backed up. “It’s just that, after eleven we don’t really apply tattoos. We just take consultations.” He tried to sound defeated, rubbing the back of his neck. Again, another lie. But Vernon wasn’t about to ink you on the spot, especially when you looked like this. 

“Is it because I’m upset?” You cried, “because I assure you, I’m in the right mind!” 

He winced, lolling his head back and forth. “That’s debatable.” 

You frowned, “C’mon, I have money. Just do me this one solid.” 

“What? No, you don’t even know what you want!” Vernon was exasperated. Not that he imagined the first time meeting you would be a walk in the park, but at the same time he wasn’t expecting to argue with you. 

"Don’t you want to be part of my spontaneous young life? Give me a tattoo that I’ll think about with my children 30 years from now?” He would laugh if you didn’t look like you were crying a river ten minutes ago. “As long as it’s not a tramp stamp, because I don’t think I can pull that off—" 

"Did you break up with your boyfriend or something?” Vernon blurted out before he could regret it. 

Your face morphed into something Vernon couldn’t understand. Pain, for sure. But a sort of relief knowing that you didn’t have to hide it. “Damn,” you give him a tired smile, “does the whole town know or something?" 

You cried again. This time, Vernon reacted quicker. Pulling out a Wendy’s napkin from his flannel pocket, he proffered it to you. He was thankful you didn’t question whether it was clean or not (it was!) and you proceeded to cover your snot and tears all over it. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?" 

You sniffled and blew a particularly large chunk of snot before you shook your head. 

"Do you… want fries?” He gestured to the small table in the room, which had some leftover fries from his combo. “I can heat ‘em up in the microwave." 

Due to the fact that you ran out of tissue room, you rubbed your face with the entirety of your sleeve. You peeked out mid-rub, and replied with a soft, "hell yeah I do." 

His heart twitched. Even betwixt your teary expression, you were so freakin’ cute. He shuffled back to the office, nuking the leftovers in the microwave until they were piping hot. Vernon waited a bit for them to get cool, and fiddled with the music so a soft R&B playlist bounced off the walls. He couldn’t believe you were here. Scratch that, he could, because you were bound to run into him one day due to pure proximity. 

But he didn’t imagine you’d be plopped in his artist room at 11:32, bleary eyed and shoving potatoes in your mouth. 

Vernon busied himself with his phone, and typed a hasty you wouldn’t believe what just happened… to the employee group chat. 

[June 11, 11:33PM]

Bo$$ man: dont tell me u put aluminum in the microwave AGAIN

Hao hao: the chinese mafia came for me, didnt they? good thing I called out 

Jeonghan is a prick: use your resources! sharp items are everywhere :) emergency money is under Patricia’s table

Bernie: tf is wrong w all of you 

Bernie: SHES HEREEEEEE

"M'sorry,” you mumbled with a mouthful of fries, breaking Vernon from his mid-text crisis. He felt his phone buzzing like hell as he shoved it in his pocket, but ignored it for the sake of you. Your previous high of emotions has long worn off, and now you were looking a little embarrassed as you fixed your gaze on the empty container of fries. Your face is blotchy and red, and you’re especially puffy due to the salt you just consumed. “I should go home." 

He didn’t want to be intrusive, but the look on your face showed it was clear that you didn’t want to go home just yet. Drumming his fingers against the metal table, he casually suggested, "Why don’t I do your back?" 

You looked at him like he was crazy. "You still wanna tattoo me? After I cried like an idiot and ate your fries?" 

"You’re not an idiot for being upset. And I offered you my fries.” He pulled out an ink canister, and a thin needle. “This is temporary ink we use to practice, or for customers who wanna test out the look. Lasts one to two weeks. And y'know, it’s a nice distraction." 

You looked skeptical, unsure of his kindness. "Why my back?" 

He shrugged, "It’s the biggest canvas. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to look at it." 

Still, you’re not convinced. There was something strange about him, something almost too sweet. While your schema may be marred by television and movies, the man in front of you didn’t seem like he quite fit into this little shack. He’s full of color, in his eyes and in his stature, his words clean and pure as he tries to soothe your aching heart. And as much as you tried not to check him out, you spotted no tattoos on any viewable part of his body. 

"And it’s kind of cathartic, really.” He watched your lips quirk up in a smile at the word usage. Not only sweet, but probably smart. Your first smile all night. Cheeks effortlessly heated, he continued, “you kinda just let go into the feeling. And it’s always fun to not know what’s been drawn until the very end." 

You’re curious. There’s excitement in your vision as he gestured to the available cot, inviting you. "Alright. Ink me up." 

Vernon grinned, and started preparing the workspace. Handing you a medical gown, he quickly shuffled away to prepare the ink and needles. He didn’t really work with the clients as deeply as this, he was really just a glorified secretary that took care of the consultation. While he washed his hands, he heard the faint rustle of fabric, definitely your shirt and bra. He turned up the temperature of the water, acutely aware of how hot his hands were getting. 

"Um,” your voice is muffled from being pressed up against the cot, your face presumably propped with pillows. “So are you Yoongi?" 

"Nah, I’m Vernon.” He wheeled over a cart full of supplies, the metal clanging against the concrete. “’M usually the guy who wipes the sweat off his brow." 

You hummed your own name in response, resting your cheek in the plushness of the cotton pillow. There’s a number of sounds paired with the R&B in the background. The smack of Vernon putting on gloves, the click of the needles and the slickness of the balm Vernon has applied on your back. His touch was warm, as his palm crescents across your back to soothe the balm into your skin. He then wiped it down with a paper towel until your skin was smooth and dry. 

"Any ideas yet?” He asked, and from the corner of your eye you see him switch out a needle for a new ink pen. 

“Maybe, stars?” Your voice is muffled against the cushions, as you’re hugging them close to your body. “And maybe something inspired by Spiderman? I liked that new one with Miles, he’s a cool one." 

You could hear the smile in his voice, "I liked that one, too." 

You stuff your own smile in your pillow, how embarrassing could it be that this stranger can make you feel better so fast? Mingyu would be groveling if he saw you now, topless, letting a man ink you up in however way he wished. "Will it hurt?" 

He chuckled at that, "Nah. The ink will sit on top and sink in, I barely have to apply any pressure. Just relax." 

Under the discretion of Vernon, who offered you fries and liked Spiderman, you relaxed. The first stroke of the needle and you were a goner. You closed your eyes and let him do his thing, You couldn’t tell what exactly was going on through his mind as he was painting your back, but you could tell his art was rather cacophonous: stiff pokes here and there, smooth strokes, and wide breaths of ink staining your back. The ink melted into your skin, bonding to your cells under Vernon’s careful control. 

It was almost 1AM when he finished. He tapped your back, urging you up. Tired, and slightly dazed, you sat up. You realized a little too late that you’re only wearing a thin hospital gown, the straps having fallen midway through the process. The air was cool against your skin. 

Vernon totally would’ve gotten a complete view of your sideboob if he wasn’t blushing like a maniac and looking away, and you respected that. His arm is punched out, fisting your button down. You hastily snatched it away, and turned around in order to look decent. 

“The ink won’t show up fully for another six hours, so until then let me know how you like it.” 

“Thank you so much,” you smiled gratefully as you do the last button of your blouse, and pulled out your phone. “Do you accept Venmo or Cashapp?” 

“Oh, yeah.” He accepted the proffered device, and put in the necessary charges. 

Once he gave back your phone, you added a sizable tip to the price he typed up. “The time really flew by,” you noted the time on the corner of your phone, 1:07. “It was really, an experience like you said.” 

He shrugged, and threw you an easy smile. “I try.” 

"Can I get a real tattoo from you someday? Y'know, when I’m ready?" 

"Ah, no. I’m not really under the apprenticeship.” He looked bashful when he said it, as if he were caught doing something wrong. “I just work here for the part time money. I do art on the side, though.” 

You had the urge to ask what he doesn’t do on the side, but it was late and you were probably holding up the poor guy for your trivial questions. “Regardless, I’m still thankful it was you that did this for me.” 

In three strides, he opened the small door for you. “My pleasure. Have a good night. Or, morning. Or if you’re one of those people who don’t consider it morning unless it’s light out, then good night?” 

“Good night,” you giggled, “get home safely.” 

“You too.” 

The screen door slammed shut behind you, along with the main door. Your car is parked in the grass patching of the flower shop. You jogged over, and the summer air made you shiver, your back still raw and warm under Vernon’s touch. 

You couldn’t wait until the flower shop closed. 

If Wonwoo noticed that you moved the porch swing relative to the placement of Nu ABO, he hasn’t brought it up. You weren’t spying on Vernon, no. But your skin was starting to itch with curiosity and in your haste to leave last night, you didn’t even ask what he designed on your back. 

“Are you stalking the tattoo guy?” 

Despite the voice being petal soft, you flinched. Assistant Manager Joshua Hong with a bouquet of boat lilies, was accusing you of stalking. His Converse tapped rhythmically against the wood paneling, looking down at you like a guilty child.  

“What?” you floundered, waving around the florist magazine in your hands. “Josh, I’m studying! And the sun was in my face so I moved the swing.” 

“You’re studying,” Joshua flickered his eyes to the run down shack across the road. “The tattoo guy?” 

“I already said I wasn’t!” 

“Then you’re telling me you spent all last night doing that,” he reached over to tug at your starched work collar, “all by yourself?” 

Your hand flew to your neck, as if you were trying to hide Vernon’s hard work. “I just wanna see what he did, all right? And I’m trying to be very patient until closing because if Wonwoo sees me going there,” you jerked a head none-too-gracefully at the direction of the parlor, “he’s gonna tell you-know-who.” 

Joshua frowned, because he already knew. After all, he stayed in the back room with you all last night, wiping away your tears. “Well, whoever did it is truly an artist,” he said genuinely, “it’s beautiful.” 

Joshua finally left you alone, and you suddenly felt emptier than before. Sure, the breakup with Mingyu was conventionally bad, but why were you so conflicted with your feelings? You didn’t want Mingyu to know you were hanging out with other guys, but you wanted to let go of him. Maybe you were trying too hard too fast. 

But Vernon made everything so, so easy. 

No, you are not letting him be a rebound. The inner conflict in your head was giving you a massive headache, you couldn’t tell if the vibes you were feeling last night were because of the recent breakup or just an authentic spark. 

The storm door shuttered boldly, and you jumped. Wonwoo stepped out, and gave you a weird look. “You alright?” 

“Me? Yeah, fine.” You gripped the collar of your shirt and pretended to fasten the buttons. 

He was unconvinced, either that or the pinched look he was sporting was an indicator of a bad day. “Listen, I know things are gonna be weird because my best friend is your, y’know,” he trailed off, painfully trudging through this conversation as easily as trudging through quicksand. “He’s gonna stop by a couple more times during the week, doing me a few errands. So if you wanna take the week off, recalibrate before the the month ends, just let me know. ” 

“Won, please,” you wanted this to end, “we don’t have to talk about this, alright?” 

He awkwardly twirled around his car keys. “Alright.” As simple as that, he threw himself in his sedan and drove off, dirt brushing the pavement. 

You glared at the dust cloud until his car was far from your sights, the mustard color blinding your vision. “Honestly,” you said to yourself, finally hopping off your swing into the direction of the shack, “he thinks I’m five and never experienced heartbreak.” 

“Welcome to Nu ABO!” this voice was different, and you slowed your steps. It doesn’t quite have the husk that Vernon’s voice held, but definitely matched the energy. The boy stepped out, and his eyes sparkled in recognition. “Flower Girll,” he said to himself, and you suddenly felt like you got caught, “I don’t think we’ve met before.” 

"We haven’t,” you replied warily at the pet name, “where’s Vernon?" 

"Oh, he’s around.” The guy waved noncommittally to the air in the room, crouching his head to look down at you. He stuffed his hands in his black overalls, which covered a painfully bright rainbow tye-dye tee. “Curious to see Vern’s ink though. He’s only ever done small stuff.” 

“I thought he wasn’t an apprentice.” 

 He flicked his wrist around to show you a beautiful line of Chinese calligraphy. "Keep the secret between us, ‘kay?” He winked. 

“Minghao, leave her alone.” Vernon stepped out of the small bathroom hidden in the artist room, a white towel behind his neck. You took in his disheveled appearance. His face was red from washing his face, and he wore the same clothes from yesterday. “Hey.” He said. 

“Hi,” you replied, “did you sleep here last night?" 

"Uh, yeah.” Vernon rubbed at his neck again, and stuffed the towel in his backpack. “I usually do the morning and afternoon shifts, I covered for this guy last night,” he jabbed his fist in Minghao’s shoulder, “but still had to do my day shift.” 

“So,” Minghao rocked back and forth in his boots, “why are you here?” 

You suddenly felt self-conscious, and gripped your phone between your two palms. A little part of you was disappointed that Vernon was not alone, but another part of you was relieved. It helped slow down the pace of your feelings (feelings?) that was heading in a direction you were not anticipating. “I wanted to say thank you again for last night.” You coughed, and Minghao grinned wider at your explanation. “And I was wondering if you could take a picture of my back? I haven’t had a chance to look at it.” 

He beamed, and you could tell he was happy that you wanted to document his work. “Oh, of course! I completely forgot last night.” 

Vernon moved to grab your phone, but Minghao swiped a hand in front of him. “Can I take your photo?” He asked you, although the look in his eyes said that you didn’t have much of a choice. 

Your cheeks burned at the sudden intrusion. “Huh?” 

“I mean, have you seen this guy’s Insta?” Minghao scoffed, albeit playfully as Vernon mirrored your flush. 

“What are you talking about?” Vernon exclaimed, thoroughly insulted, “my profile is tastefully abstract.” 

“It looks like it was tastefully done by a three year old.” Minghao pulled out his iPhone, and adjusted the filters. “I’m doing you a favor here, Flower Girl.” 

You looked warily at Vernon, who slumped in defeat, “If you’re going for that e-girl vibe, I guess Hao’s a better photographer.” 

“Better than your pictures coming out blurry.” Minghao shot back, holding the camera to your face. “There’s no light in here,” Minghao glared at the singular window in their tiny studio, the sill decorated with a single jade succulent. “Got any ideas?" 

Vernon shrugged, "You said I have the taste of a three year old, so." 

With Wonwoo gone for the day, you realized that you did have an idea of where you could take a tasteful picture. The thrill excited and terrified you. You only wanted a simple picture to see what it looked like, but Minghao looked as equally as excited to see your ink. Maybe it was the fact that the art was fleeting or that Vernon was really that talented, but it encouraged you to offer the setting up.

"I think our greenhouse has plenty of light,” you gestured out the studio’s only window, which was in perfect view of the flower shop. “We should be closing up soon, so it’s free." 

Minghao nodded approvingly, "We can try." 

And with a hasty "be back @ 4:20!” sign taped on the front door to Nu ABO, the three of them walked across the street to the greenhouse. 

You went in first, nearly bumping into Joshua who was bent over, pot in hand. 

“Hey Josh,” you grabbed the keys from the front desk, “borrowing the greenhouse." 

"Hey Josh,” Minghao and Vernon mimicked, who found it amusing that you just brushed by without an introduction. 

You rolled your eyes, hearing them exchange pleasantries and bro fists. The plexiglass doors to the greenhouse unlocked with a turn of your key, the smell of heat and grassy rain hitting your nostrils. Joshua placed the pot somewhere, following suit as the boys were right behind you. 

“Awesome,” Minghao exhaled, stepping further into the greenhouse. It was a small one, but comfortable enough for a couple patrons to browse around. “I’m gonna move around some plants if that’s okay, I gotta vision.” 

Joshua looked a little frazzled watching Minghao talk to himself and start moving the settings around (“The hydrangeas don’t go there, are you crazy?”) and started helping Minghao move the pots and placements around. You and Vernon hung around the entrance, giggling to yourselves. 

You tried to bump his shoulder, which didn’t even reach his. “So, what’s your Insta handle?” 

He quirked his brows at that, “Why, so you can judge my aesthetic too?” 

“No,” you replied, faking your shock. “I would never insult your taste!” 

With a roll of his eyes he said, “Speaking of taste, since your shift is over and my shift is over,” Vernon rocked back and forth on his feet. “Wanna grab a bite?” 

Something’s fluttering in your stomach, and you stomp it down. It’s an innocent invite, yes. Unfortunately it was not-so-innocent in your twisted mind knowing that you are still fresh from a breakup, yet your backed is marked with Vernon’s work. “You must be tired though,” you tried to reason, “you should get some rest, I don’t wanna bother you.” 

“Not a bother,” he said immediately, “besides, I wanna ask you something.” 

That got you curious. Before you had a chance to ask, Minghao was ushering you over, telling you to stand in front of a bundle of orchids. They’ve bloomed a Canary yellow, encasing you in a golden ring of flowers overlooking the terrace. The new friend has gestured for you to undo your shirt and he turned away in respect. It’s different with an audience and an expectation.  You made haste to undo the buttons of your blouse, then your bra, throwing it aside. You felt the warm, moist air kiss your back, and you heard a low whistle coming from Minghao. 

“Beautiful,” Minghao exhaled, “Vern, you’ve outdone yourself." 

Beautiful. Vernon made you beautiful.

Your body was simmering, and you could do nothing as you let Minghao photograph you. You focused your eyes on a puddle dripping from a faucet in front of you, counting the seconds between each droplet. 

“And, done.” 

You shoved on your clothes, and felt extra awkward as you fumbled to reach for the straps of your bra. You nearly slipped on the puddle as you walked back to the boys, who were busy over Minghao’s shoulder. 

“Super awesome,” Minghao handed you the phone brightly, “so much texture and feeling.” 

The screen showed a halo of foliage that surrounded your bare back, blush orchids kissing the frame with color. Your work shirt bundled under your hips, and fell under your elbows to reveal a city sky. You were breathless, zooming in to capture every detail of the ink. A navy sky, blanketing buildings across your back in a diagonal, splaying from the bottom right to the top left. On the bottom, skyscrapers reaching for the stars. 

If you zoomed in enough, you could tell that the stars were shaped like roses. 

“I don’t know how many times I’ve said thank you in the past two days,” you started, causing Vernon to grin widely. “But thank you, I’ve never felt so beautiful.” 

Vernon scoffed, “I didn’t do anything, I’ve only enhanced your beauty. That’s our shtick.” 

You handed Minghao back your phone and thanked him. He then rushed off, saying he had to stay at the parlor since Yoongi was coming soon. Immediately, Joshua began putting back the plants in their rightful places. You and Vernon followed suit, starting with the smaller ones. 

“So,” Vernon picked up a tray of succulents, “are we still on for dinner?” 

Wide-eyed Joshua crept in-between the foliage, laughably appearing under a series of hanging plants like a madman. “Dinner?” he asked, looking between you two. 

“Yeah man,” Vernon reached to pull Joshua away from the plants, “wanna come?” 

Simultaneously disappointed and relieved, you let out a subconscious exhale. Joshua was coming, which meant that there would be no possibility for feeling weird (or catching feels), being awkward or fighting any oncoming feelings with Vernon. 

"On Thursdays there’s this really good half-off sushi deal by my place. We can take out and eat at my apartment?” Joshua’s kindness was palpable at the offering of his home, and the both of you smiled gratefully.

Not more than two hours later, the three of you are bundled away in Joshua’s two-room, empty boxes of carryout stacked high. The television was playing reruns of Full House, the only source of light in the dim space. 

“Are you gonna go home soon?” Vernon asked, and turned his head to the corner of the room. Joshua is cuddled up in the single couch, tucked in a wearable blanket with the armholes. 

You shrugged, “I dunno. Usually I crash here for sushi nights,” you patted the couch lovingly, “This is my second bed.” 

Vernon chuckled, tucking his feet under his thighs. It made him look impossibly small in comparison to how tall and lanky he actually was.

“So, what did you want to ask me?” 

Vernon looked between his legs, as if he were trying to piece his words together. “Long story short, I got waitlisted at my top graduate school option,” he then pulled up his phone, revealing the picture of your back that was taken that afternoon, “but I was thinking that if I made a portfolio of this kind of art, it would really tip my application over the edge. Originally I was thinking of just sending my usual art, but it just popped in my head today while we were doing it.” He looked up through his eyelashes, wisps of copper looking expectantly at you. “If you’re comfortable with it, would you be my canvas?”  

“Live art,” you surmised, “honestly, I’m honored that you would want me to be a part of something so big. You think I’m that good?” 

No, you weren’t doubting Vernon’s art one bit. The fact that your back would be out on display for a bunch of strangers was unnerving, to say the least. 

“Are you kidding?” Vernon zoomed out of the image, revealing the curve of your back and the generation of life reflected in the greenhouse. “This is wicked. You’re stunning. We’d make a great team!” 

You felt your body heat at the statement. His presence was almost too refreshing, and you wanted to return the favor of helping you out last night. 

“Lucky for you,” you shot a quick text to Wonwoo, “I’ve planned to take this week off.” 

Over the course of the week Vernon wanted to do an artistic timeline of sorts, adding and retouching the already existing ink on your back until the canvas was full. It felt fulfilling, letting yourself become a vessel of success for someone. The following day, Vernon shot you a text revealing his portfolio, and said how excited he was to see you. 

You met in the shack after his shift, and Vernon let you into the office and locked the door. You can hear the rap being played in the artist room where Minghao and Yoongi were working with a client.

The artist was muttering to himself as he invited you to sit at the couch. Something about whether he wanted to start from the “top-down” or “bottom-up.” Instead of contributing to his madness, you turned away from him and started shedding your shirt. Today was a plain cotton shirt, and you shucked it off and balled it in your arms. 

No less than five seconds was Vernon’s hands on your back, and despite the warmth radiating from his fingertips, you couldn’t help but shiver. Vernon had explained that while he did a large portion of your back the first time, there was still room for growth and he wanted your back filled by the end of the week. 

“Do you mind if I,” his hand hovered over your bra. 

You shook your head, and with his thumb and forefinger he flicked off both your bra straps with ease. Your hands flooded themselves in the fabric of your t-shirt, which silently accepted your death grip. 

“Sorry, do you feel weird?” He definitely sensed your lack of vocality, and put one strap back in case. 

“I’m fine,” your voice is light, what else could you say? 

“Whatever you say,” he hummed, and resumed his work. 

You opt to take in the sounds. Minghao laughed about something in the other room, coupled with the zing of the needle. The music pulled to a stop and boomeranged back into a smoother arrangement. 

“I think we’ll start from the bottom-up and build from there,” he then placed his hands around your waist, poking at the dive between your waist and your bottom. 

There’s an unmistakable heat that pooled within you, which caused you to wring your shirt harder. It was going to be a long week. 

By Wednesday, he was in your apartment, working on the sides of your waist. The day after every session, Vernon would take a picture of yesterday’s work and show it to you. A gummy grin would always take over his face, either proud of himself or happy that you loved the new addition. 

Despite the fact that the only thing covering your body was a thin gown medical taken from the shop, every pore of your body felt unbelievably hot. You really shouldn’t be mixing alcohol on a Wednesday night, but Vernon was excited that he was halfway done with the project and it was time to be “poppin’ bottles.” 

You felt a little drowsy as a result of that, but nothing terrible. Like he said, the feeling was cathartic. 

“Aren’t you drunk too?” you murmured into your navy blue whale plush, “what if you accidentally stab me?” 

Vernon laughed, and it shook the couch. You couldn’t see his face as he sat on the floor, getting in the crevices of your skin. He poked at your skin a little harder than usual, as if he were testing the possibility. “That’d still take a lot of strength.” 

“You’d be surprised,” you sighed, “those little sticks florists use to keep the babies upright? Flat as a thumb and I still manage to impale tomatoes with them.” He doesn’t respond to that, and you’re left drowning in your own answer. You wondered if he truly thought you were a crazy tomato-killer, or was concentrated on detailing a particular patch of skin. “Can I tell you a secret?” you blurted, “honestly, I think flowers are beautiful, but I really hate working at the florist. The only reason I’m doing it is because Joshua really needed the help and he knew I wasn’t going to do shit until my city job starts in September.” 

“Huh,” Vernon stopped, resting the heel of his hand on your back. “That’s funny. Explains all the cursing when you’re cutting roses outside.” 

“You’ve watched me outside?” you grinned into your cushion, “creepy much?” 

“Do you wanna know a secret?” Vernon blurted, evading your question with one of his own, “I’ve had the biggest crush on you since you came by in May.” 

You tensed, and if Vernon noticed, he didn’t react. He kept on doing his business, marking your back with baby’s breath. It had to be the alcohol talking. If he drank at all, you couldn’t even tell because you couldn’t get up and he was strikingly coherent. All this time, and you didn’t even notice? 

“You don’t have to answer,” he said, as if he knew you were strung speechless. “I just, wanted to say it. We’re cool.” 

And you agreed, pretending to fall asleep. 

Friday was around the corner before you knew it, and Vernon wanted to photograph the final piece where it all started. The greenhouse was devoid of human life at the crack of dawn, unless you counted Joshua who was asleep on the counter because he was the only one with a key that knew of your recent escapades with Vernon. 

Vernon was just as tired as you are, but he was adamant about having the photo taken at dawn, as the first picture was taken in the late day. There was some contrived symbolism attached to it that you didn’t really understand, but you trusted his vision. Besides, your panda eyes wouldn’t be revealed in the photo, so you could master the art of sleeping upright while he took photos. 

“Alright,” Vernon set up his camera. He was dressed in a university zip up and matching sweatpants, like he just rolled out of bed. “Everything’s set up, whenever you’re ready.” 

Likewise with you, and you pulled off your hoodie, not bothering with a bra. Despite the fact that the room was temperature controlled, the cold morning air still managed to worm its way to your bare top. You quickly rubbed down your gooseflesh with your palms.  

You two engaged in a comfortable silence as you tested out your poses and he adjusted his frame. After a couple of practice shots, the air seemed calmer.

“Cold?” Vernon asked casually.

“Anything that isn’t under the sheets of my bed is cold as hell,” you muttered, trailing your fingers delicately across your waist. 

“That’s a nice pose,” Vernon said to himself, “we’re almost done. Then you can go to bed for the rest of your day. Unless you’re down for breakfast?" 

You two still haven’t spoken about his little confession the other day, but in all honesty there was no reason to bring it up. Your lives were going in different directions, and you knew Vernon deserved more than a halfhearted summer fling. 

"I think I’m down for bed and breakfast,” you replied wryly. 

“Smart girl,” Vernon chuckled, “can you change your pose for me? Like, pretend that you’re stretching.” 

You didn’t understand what he meant by that, so you ended up flexing your arms in different directions. 

“No, we’re not doing yoga.” He let his camera swing around his neck as he rushed over to you. The sun was a soft white, the antithesis of golden hour as you two rushed to make the magic happen. He grabbed your arms from behind, twisting the left wris in an unusual angle. 

"Ah, Vernon!” You jerked around to face him, now fully awake. “I’m not a Barbie doll, you can’t just move me like that." 

Vernon doesn’t respond. He let go of you as soon as you screamed, eyes blown wide and pupils a thick black. His stare is frozen to yours, and his hand is in mid-air, a centimeter away from your bare breasts. 

"Oh,” you said, “did I whack you with my boob when I turned?" 

"Yeah, you boobed me.” Vernon looked afraid to stare anywhere but your face. “I’m so sorry." 

"It’s okay,” you bit the inside of your lip, “I don’t mind if you touch me there." 

Now, Vernon looked terrified. 

It’s been a long week. A long, surreal week. You wanted to tell Vernon about your conflicted feelings, you wanted to ask about his little crush, and what on earth did he find appealing about you. You wanted to tell him how much you trusted him with your body, and how you wanted him to do more to you than just ink. 

It’s then, the gaping boy shook himself together. His hands encircled your neck, haloing at the finishing piece of his work, an echelon moon. Vernon’s fingers trailed to cup your face, and you felt your whole body warm in anticipation. Patient, you waited for his carmine eyes to flutter shut, and you smiled, finally closing yours—

"The fuck is this?" 

In an instant, the air was sucked out of you like a blackhole, and Vernon immediately shielded you, throwing his jacket across you like a towel. 

"Mingyu,” you said shakily, clutching the cotton coat tighter around your form. 

It’s then that a no-longer bleary-eyed Joshua stumbled into the greenhouse, seconds too late. 

Mingyu threw down the sack of fertilizer he hauled on his back, black dirt smattering the floor.  “Its been barely a week and you’re fucking someone in the greenhouse, of all places?” Mingyu was angry, plain and simple. “I thought we agreed on a break." 

"You agreed on a break,” your thighs were numb from leaning on them, but Vernon’s hand on your back encouraged you to get on your feet. “I agreed that two years was too long to wait." 

"And who are you?” Mingyu squinted his eyes at Vernon.

“He’s none of your business,” you stepped in front of him, tugging his hoodie  closer around your frame. 

Mingyu’s face fell in realization, and he looked between you two with forlornness that made your stomach churn. “C’mon baby,” your nails embedded themselves in your palm at the jab, “can we go outside and talk about this?” 

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” your voice was paper thin, but loud enough for Mingyu to hear across the room, “I’d prefer you leave us alone, and do not talk to me ever again.” 

It took all your composure to turn around, and you glared a hole into Vernon’s chest. You felt your body bleed goosebumps around your arms and legs, not out of weather, but out of anxiety. You hugged yourself to shut the prickly feeling down. You heard Joshua do the only helpful thing this morning and it’s his soft utterances that finally pulled Mingyu out of the greenhouse. ,

What’s left is the drip of the hose, and the two of you, unmoved.

Thankful for the silence, you looked up at your companion, who was speechless. Vernon’s lower lip was puckered out slightly, face contorted as if to say I’m sorry, that kinda sucked. The tell-tale signs of emotional overload began to prick at your eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” you wiped your face. Since when did you start crying? “I’m so sorry that I let all of this happen, and I let myself let this happen, and I’m such a mess and I’ve been trying to hide it all this time, but I’m selfish and I just wanted to see what would turn out of it.” 

“What are you apologizing for?” Vernon tried to lighten up the mood, and offered you an easy smile and reached for a hug.

“I’m sorry because I don’t know if I like you or not!” you outburst, and pushed him out of arm’s reach. “I feel so fucking guilty I just got out of a relationship and I can’t tell if I like you or I like your attention, honestly. And it isn’t fair because you’re just so sweet and kind and easy to love. Either way at the end of the summer I’m moving into the city for my full-time job. And I, I, I don’t know!” 

Vernon forced his way into your space, barely a foot apart. He didn’t touch you, but his warmth still emanated from the jacket you were wearing. He didn’t seem upset, then again you were probably upset enough for the both of you. 

“Hey, I offered to do your back because I knew you needed a distraction,” Vernon said softly, “no strings attached, ever. You do you, right? Focus on yourself.” 

You wished he was mean about this. It would’ve made it easier. “What if this is the last time we talk? What if I want to ignore you for the rest of the summer?” you murmured, already knowing you. should enjoy these final moments. 

“We’ll live,” he shrugged, and finally broke the space between you. His lips planted themselves between your forehead, melting away the lines that marred your brows apart, “and we’ll heal.”

The city was daring. The city was unforgiving. 

You tugged your scarf closer around your neck, which constricted your airflow but also prevented any possible windchill from slicing your neck. In your other hand you were hauling a week’s worth of work in a luggage that had once packed your things in August and sent you to this very career path. 

As much as you loved your new life, you wished things would be a little more boundless. The box of your workspace, the box of the elevator, and the box of your goshiwon apartment were starting to feel particularly stifling this weekend. 

It was Friday (or FriYay, as your co-workers dubbed) and that meant a weekend vegging out with a comfort meal and a new movie. There was a Burger King and a Gongcha under your apartment complex, both calling your name. 

Boba and burgers, the perfect way to end a week. 

You munched on your fries as you scanned the Gongcha menu, craving something sweet to contrast with your salty meal. 

It is then a low, sultry whisper sauntered in your direction (in a Gongcha, with children) and you almost choked on your fry. “I would know that back anywhere,” the offender drawled. 

What a strange pick-up line. The paper bag crinkled in your grip, and you turn around to see a familiar perky face in a scarlet Adidas tracksuit. Of all the places, he was here. 

“Hey, Flower Girl.” Minghao greeted, wiggling his fingers in a wave. He was on a tall stool, long legs splayed out and a cup of oolong milk tea hung lazily in his grip. His cup was at least 50% ice, and he was shaking the cup like a rattle every ten seconds.

“Normally, people would start with a simple hello,” you replied wryly, ushering him over to wait with you in line. 

“Normally,” Minghao shrugged, and slipped an arm around your shoulders as if you were long lost friends, “how have you been doing? Planting gardens for the spring?” 

“Please,” you scoffed. To Joshua and Wonwoo’s chagrin, you’ve forgotten a lot since the summer. “I can’t even make a corsage anymore, my brain’s on overload. What about you?” 

It looked like he was waiting for you to ask that. You barely got your order in before he started spitting out his story. “Didn’t you hear?” Obviously you didn’t, and he didn’t give you a chance to answer. “Two letters. RM.” Again, nothing. “The RM? The hottest rapper in Korea? Anyway, he was one of our clients in August—he got a sick design of a koala and an alpaca, cooler than you think—and gave us a massive tip on his Instagram story. We were famous overnight! We were getting crazy clients left and right—fuckin’ Sana wanted a little heart on her sternum, hottest thing.” 

“So you were able to relocate the parlor to the city?” 

“The big push was when Yoongi dropped RM his demo,” he shook his cup furiously, ice clanging, as if he never got tired of this story. “Like, I didn’t even know they were texting! I’ve been running the parlor mostly, I’ve always wanted to live in the city, but RM funded a lot of it and is helping Yoongi make his mix.”

In the back of your head, the question of an aspiring grad student was niggling in your brain, but you pushed it down. “So, if Yoongi’s working on his demo and you’re supposed to be running the parlor, why aren’t you there now?” you asked.

He stared at you as if it were the most obvious choice. “Because I’m here, drinking boba with you.” Minghao then grabbed your finished drink from the employee’s hand, ushering you out the door. “And now you’re going to follow me, because my break was over fifteen minutes ago.” 

“What?” 

“I have your boba,” he’s already out the door, waving your precious beverage like a fish to its line. “Hurry up, now I’m sixteen minutes late!” 

You groaned, lugging your suitcase full of work and now cold french fries back into the freezing weather. The wheels of your suitcase are cracking in exhaustion, mirroring yours. You just wanted your damn milk tea, hot fries, and a Netflix catch-up. What was the point of following Minghao to Nu ABO, when there was no reason to be there other than … 

“Oof!” your face slammed into Minghao’s back. The light was red. “Did Vernon move here too?” 

“Duh, who else would be covering for me?” 

“You’re trying to set me up!” You cried in betrayal, jabbing him in chest with your finger. “Y'know what, I’m just going to get another boba. You keep that.”

You two glared at each other. Minghao looked relentless, ignoring whoever was bumping into him on the streets. His eyes suddenly glinted to your rolling luggage, and he snatched it from your grip, running into the streets. 

“Can’t replace your work, right?” He laughed, forcing you to chase him down the block.

You felt sweat start to develop on your back, contrasting with the icy weather. Your work blazer and pinstripe loafers were not suited for vigorous activity. Minghao has an unfair advantage, being tall and athletic, and you had just finished half a bag of Burger King. Damn him. 

Minghao stopped in front of a sunken in building, with stairs leading downwards to a neon-lit parlor with the name glittering in electric periwinkle font. Flustered, you gasp at the cold air, finally able to stop. Despite having lost your breath ten meters ago, you managed to tell Minghao you’re proud that they have a real parlor. 

Your heart was beating in your ears, and you can’t tell whether it was because you haven’t worked out in months, or because Vernon was behind that door. 

Minghao dumped your luggage behind the reception area, and went straight into the artist room. This new parlor was much bigger, so when Minghao disappeared into a hallway he was out of your sight. You wait around, letting yourself sink into the familiar hip hop playlist. There are pictures littering the walls, all covered with a clean black frame. You see Yoongi and the supposed RM, sporting his koala and alpaca ink (which actually did look sick) and some photos of Minghao’s work, all of his designs being simultaneously colorful and graceful. 

It’s then in the epicenter of this wall is a long black frame that cut across the horizon, seven images of a woman with flowers and stars inking her back. 

Your back. 

“Beautiful, right? I’m sure it takes you back.” Minghao was over your shoulder, flicking his fingers between the photos. “Lots of customers have requested these designs. He never makes them the same way, though.”

Instead of answering, you followed Minghao down the hallway and into the artist room. Vernon had just finished with a client. Poking in head first, you saw him ticking off protocol off a printed list, speaking concisely. The client was listening intently, and you see he has an arm sleeve with peonies. It’s then he noticed Minghao intruding once more, and frowned. 

“Dude, you got milk tea without me?” Vernon said, affronted. 

“Ya didn’t ask.” Minghao vigorously shook the ice in your tea like a baby rattle. 

“You didn’t mention it, therefore I couldn’t have asked.” 

“You’re so smart, Hannie,” he beamed at him like a proud parent complimenting his son, “that’s why he’s going to grad school.” 

You let yourself in fully, and you felt shy as Vernon’s lips parted slightly upon realizing who his second guest was. 

“Hey,” Vernon exhaled, and gave you a small smile. He looked happy, content. As handsome as ever, he ran a gloved hand through his hair, soft curls bouncing as he shifted around the parting. “This is uh, a surprise.” his eyes flickered to Minghao, who held his arms out in a passive shrug. “A good one to end the week.” 

“Hi,” you bit your lip, feeling shy, “so, you decided to get certified and you’re going to grad school? I missed out on a lot.”

“That’s okay, we got time.” Vernon assured, “besides the fact that I got a project due tomorrow morning that I’ve barely started, and then I have a field trip I gotta go to on Sunday—”

Before it could drag on any longer, Minghao hacked out a very loud, and very fake cough. You broke out of the rêve, and muttered a “gimmie that” before snatching your precious bubble tea out of Minghao’s hand. 

Vernon mirrored the cough, more out of embarrassment than annoyance. “Lemme finish up with this client, yeah?” And he jerked his head back to the patient, going on about safety. 

Minghao led you out of the room, whispering a “you’re welcome” in your ear that taunted you for the rest of the night. 

Vernon finished at 5, just like he did back in the little shack at university square. He came out in a 2XL neon green hoodie, leading the client out the door and telling him to “take it easy”. As soon as the client’s gone, he comes over to you. You’re still staring at your pictures, as if you couldn’t believe that you were on display, looking like a tasteful nude model. 

“Hi again,” he said, dusting the imaginary dirt off his pants. 

“Hi,” you replied, feeling tingly at the sound of his voice. Did you really miss him that much? 

"Um, is it cool if I hug you?" 

It certainly has been awhile. You nodded, unsure if you could form a coherent response because you could tell Vernon was blushing and he was being too damn adorable for you to handle. 

Upon permission, he brightened. The warmth of his cotton hoodie enveloped you like the way hot chocolate feels after a cold day. You breathed in his scent, realizing how much you missed the scent of fresh laundry, especially on him. 

"How are you?” He asked casually.

“Uh, m'okay.” You answered softly, “a little cold nowadays." 

He hugged you tighter in response. With one more squeeze he let himself go, but kept you at an arm’s length. "Wanna get dinner?" 

You looked at him funny, "didn’t you say you had a project due tomorrow morning that you haven’t started?" 

Without missing a beat he altered, "Wanna get takeout? I’ll do work and eat while,” his eyes darted to your luggage, “you do work?" 

While you wanted to say that it was Friday (FriYay!) and you weren’t planning to open Pandora’s Box until Sunday night, you obliged and followed him to his place. 

On the way over, Vernon got his well-needed milk tea (and your second round) with two matching cartons of jajangmyeon. You trailed behind him rather than next to him, due to the fact that he was also lugging a Joshua-sized canvas on his back. In fear of being knocked out or ruining his work, you settled for walking a meter apart. 

Vernon lived on the second floor of his complex. You imagined a sizable one-room similar to your goshiwon, but you’re in awe when you see a fully furnished living room and kitchen. You smiled at the singular jade plant decorating the windowsill, one you remembered as Patricia Planty one session months ago. The hardwood was so shiny you could see your reflection in them. Kicking off your shoes, you stumbled over the kitchen countertop, reveling at the onyx granite. 

"I’ve never seen this much granite in my entire life!” You cried, spreading your hands over the cool rock. It was so well polished, you could see your reflection.  He was certainly living the high life this year. 

Vernon shook his head, setting the take out down and pulling out the containers. “It’s RM’s old place. I rent it out with the guys." 

"God, this is ten times better than my place! Your kitchen is bigger than my apartment!" 

He flicked your bowl of jajangmyeon over to your side of the countertop, the sauce and noodles premixed for you. "Eat up, babe.” He stuffed a radish in his mouth, now working to mix his own noodles, “we got a lotta catchin’ up to do." 

Whether it was your hunger or the casual use of the word "babe”, you abandoned the granite for now and did as told. 

An hour later, you’re flipping through their mounted TV, taking full advantage of their Disney+ subscription as Vernon is laying on the floor.  

“I thought you were working,” you chastised, letting yourself sink further into their couch. It was like resting on a big, fluffy marshmallow. You never wanted to leave. 

Vernon is splayed out like a starfish, papers and watercolors spread around him. His large body stood out against the white linoleum floor, his neon green hoodie reflecting on the shiny surface. “I am.” he replied blandly, “I’m waiting for lightning to hit me with a burst of inspiration." 

"Grad school’s biting you in the butt?" 

"Big time." 

Another bout of silence hit the two of you, and it was surprisingly nice. You finally started to notice that Vernon is picking up some art utensils and is doodling something. (He still is on the floor and hasn’t sat up properly, but progress is progress.) 

It felt oddly domestic, but you didn’t mind. There was no need to ask about the past, Kim Mingyu, or any other silly drama you two entrapped yourselves into last summer. What mattered now was the warmth of each other’s presence on this chilly night.

Your eyes are heavy and fighting against the long day, and before you know it, you’re asleep just as Rapunzel escapes Gothel’s tower. 

You haven’t awoken to the morning sun in a long, long time. While the notion sounded awfully depressing (because it was), you really didn’t have much of a choice because the goshiwon was closet sized, and closets had no windows. But today, the sun blasted you, forcing you up. This was accompanied by the the tell-tale sounds of breakfast, which was weird because you only ever ate cold food in your room, because there was zero ventilation. The scent of dark roast muddled your senses, forcing you awake. You twitched at the sudden stench, and snapped your back straight. Were your walls always this pristine white? 

"Didn’t know you were this early in the game, Flower Girl." 

You never went home. While Vernon was long gone and probably off presenting some haphazard art, Minghao and Yoongi (for the first time, in the flesh!) were watching you from their marbled island, while you rubbed the crusties out of your eyes. "Usually, encroaching on a significant other’s apartment is reserved for the 5th or 6th date.” Minghao teased, waving his Nutella toast in your face. 

“Oh, shut up,” you glared at Yoongi, who was slowly chewing on his own toast. There’s was black spark in his eyes, like he’s relishing on whatever has unfolded. “And you, you. I know this is the first time we’ve met and you haven’t said a word. But shut up too. Your thoughts are awfully loud.” 

You’re embarrassed, and you pull up your hands to mediate your fired cheeks. Instead of your palms, you feel worn cotton dabbing at your face. You wiggled your fingers under the neon green hoodie. Vernon put on his clothes for you to wear. You were in a very uncompromising position, and his roommates were reveling every second of it. 

Yoongi shrugged, throwing you a flippant grin. “Whatever you say, Flower Girl.” 

Contact emerged in the form of texts and images. You wondered how Vernon managed to keep things casual in light of how sudden your meeting was, but you relished in the way things fell naturally. 

[February 19, 2:10PM]

Vern: Is this still your number 

Vern: If so, here’s what i submitted for my project

Vern: IMG.934

Vern: if not, pls enjoy this picture of a pink platypus. the medium was watercolor nd if you’re curious, i got the idea from sunsets and phineas and ferb. Enjoy your day

You: hey look, there’s perry

Vern: nice

Vern: wait, this doesn’t confirm if ur u or a stranger

Vern: are u just a perry enthusiast 

Vern: evidence pls

[February 19th, 6:08PM]

You: IMG.48

[February 20th, 12:22AM]

Vern: ooh

Vern: look cute in my hoodie 

You’ve toggled with the idea of just cutting straight through the bush and asking him out the next time you see him in person. A little part of you liked the chase, however. That feeling where you’re tugging between friendship and something more, and you can’t help but feel like you’re fifteen everytime his name popped up in your messages. You self-dubbed it the-honeymoon-to-the-honeymoon phase. 

[February 27, 5:34PM]

Vern: what are you up to 

You: it’s hour 32. I’ve been under the covers and have survived solely on celery and honey-butter chips. currently binging all netflix comedies. debating on whether to send for help otherwise i may never get up

Vern: that’s the spirit 

By the time two weeks passed, you felt confident enough to ride off the mutually weird text messages and constant contact to meet with him. By then, you’re knees deep in the honeymoon-to-the-honeymoon phase. You’re languidly floating in that river, hoping you’re not rushing it by agitating the waters. 

[March 8th, 10:10PM]

You: hey

You: you up? 

Vern: nah. mastered the art of sleep textin

You: just wanted to ask if you could help me pick out a tatt that would fit me

You: if you were available. I’ve heard from the mullet-monster that you’re a hot commodity drowning in appts and deadlines

Vern: wait forreal? 

Vern: i can pencil u in. tomorrow night @11? 

You: so soon? What happened to being busy

Vern: not for u. Already have an idea in mind

By the time you arrived Saturday night, Minghao was slapping your back across the door, gabbing on about a “major banger” they were missing uptown. He looked the part, the only person you knew that could fill out an all-studded denim fit. Like a disco ball at a rodeo. He barely said good-bye before he hopped in a Lyft, cheering for freedom. 

You poked your head into the artist room, and saw Vernon playing on his phone. His fist dug into his cheek, carob pupils glazed over. You almost felt bad for wanting his attention this late.

“You usually do the day shift,” you commented quietly, holding up a bag with two milk teas in hand. 

Vernon looked up, illuminating in a half-smile. “Y’know me, always covering. Just for the hour though, this shouldn’t take long since we’re just looking at ideas.” 

He slapped a hand on the client chair. This one was much better than the cot they had in their shack. This one was pure leather and gleamed high quality. You placed your drinks on the countertop and eagerly bounced onto the seat. “Comfy,” you murmured, and wriggled your sneaker-clad feet.

“Good,” there’s a sharp snap from the plastic seal and Vernon is sipping into his milk tea seconds after you put it down. He’s chewing on a particularly large gulp, gnawing on pearls like no one’s business. With his rolling chair, he slid over to you, seamlessly reaching for your wrist. 

If he noticed that you’re wearing a particular neon item, he doesn’t comment. He turned on the overhead lamp, letting a soft white light bathe your form. When he finally spoke, he chanted your name in a sing-song, tapping your wrist in beat. It’s as if he  were envisioning the color blooming on your skin. 

You let him do his thing, and he pulled out his phone, scrolling through his gallery. You see pictures of his friends, some of his family, and digital art. He scrolled slower at the myriad of images: a colorful orca, lavender constellations, and budding roses. 

You were seeing a lot of flowers nowadays, with the burgeoning of spring and the recent ending of Valentine’s. It’s only now that you notice how apparent the theme is throughout the parlor, particularly in Vernon’s affinity. 

“Why don’t you call me it?” you asked softly, peering over his form to see him mulled over a picture of periwinkle lupines. 

“Huh,” he’s distracted, and has now swiped back to the colorful orca image. 

“Flower Girl,” you uttered, “they call me that, but you don’t.” 

Vernon clicked his phone down, the lupines flicked away. He peered at you through his lashes, the white overhead making his eyes appreciably bright. “Before I knew your name,” he started slow, making faces to himself as if he were debating on whether to tell you, “I’d call you Rose. You were always by the rose bush planted outside the shop.” 

“Avoiding work,” you crinkled your nose, however relished in the endearment, “being named after a rose is too big a compliment.” 

He snorted, “That’s what they said. Hence, Flower Girl was born,” he’s easy about it, but now he’s put his phone down and is rubbing circles in your wrist. You wonder if he felt how clammy your palms were getting from the minute intimacy. 

“You know what flower I’d compare to you?” you asked, “freesias.” 

“And what do those mean?” 

“Thoughtfulness,” the pad of his thumb still lingered on your skin, his grip painfully apparent. “And renewal.” 

“Why renewal?” 

“Because,” you swallowed, “you make me feel renewed. And this time I’m sure it’s because it’s you.” 

Vernon looked like he wanted to smile, trying so very hard not to embarass you whilst you poured your heart out with delicacy. His coral lips were tucked in a thin line, teeth biting at his lower lip. Drop by drop, he was going to accept that dew with as much care as possible. “Only me,” he inquired, pressing into your pulse. 

Your mouth was sand dry.  “Uh-huh.” You exhaled a breath long clutched in your throat, hot air fanning into Vernon’s face. He paid no mind, and (to no avail) was still trying to hold in his smile. “You’re dimples are showing,” you whined, poking the little dip in his cheeks with your free hand. “Use your words.” 

“Like?” he elongated, playing dumb. You supposed you earned his brand of torture, after all, seven months is a long time to make up for. 

“Like how we want the same thing?” you tried. 

“How do you know I want what you want?” he feigned, furrowing his thick brows. Acting could’ve been another career possibility for him, portrayed by the way his eyes were blown with confusion, his mouth parted like a kitten.  

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Forget words!” you broke, nearly shaking from the nerves. 

It’s then that Vernon finally gave you a concrete response. His grip on your wrist was near painful as he eagerly tugged you closer, kissing you. There’s enthusiasm in every action from the way he pulled you closer, large hands melding to cup your cheeks. A little part of you is both breathless and invigorated at the energy stinging the room, and you can barely keep up until Vernon spilled kisses down your neck. 

He threw up the armrest holding him back, tucking his knee between your legs as he lapped you up, kissing you fully. The chair was much too small for the both of you, his large body pressing you further into the cushions. 

He sat up a bit, bumping his head on the lamp. He paid no mind. “By the way, I like you, too.” Vernon puttered cheekily, rubbing his scalp. Just as swiftly, he latches onto your neck and sucks at a sensitive spot. You can feel his teeth showing from the smile in his kisses. His thumbs rubbed lazily over your jaw, enjoying the feel of your soft skin under his rough palms. 

“Really,” you exhaled, relaxing against the headrest as Vernon’s wandering hands traveled lower. “Had no idea.” 

“But I’m happy,” Vernon is fumbly and sweet, mumbling in the crook of your neck while his fingers toyed with the waistband of your sweatpants, “happy you’ve healed, and happy for us.” 

He’s excited, almost too excited. The space between you two was warm, the lamp beating under your skin, awakening something between you two that was left behind that summer. It’s as if winter left him dormant, and you were the fresh flower waiting to be bloomed under his touch.

“Are you always,” you gasped, two fingers already worming their way inside your panties, “talkative at this part?” 

“Not if you wanna talk,” and the ever-zealous Vernon Chwe gets to work, sticking out his tongue in surprise when he finds that you’re already drenched. “Shit, you’re so beautiful,” he holds onto that word dearly, and pressed his forehead against yours, “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to hold you like this,” he reached for your delicious bud, and you felt your senses flower into pleasure. 

He makes a noise, low in his throat as he watched you melt against the seat. “I like you like this,” he said thickly, his voice matching the slick sounds emitting from yourself. “Comfy, relaxed. You always looked so stuffy in those work suits,” you feel wholly undeserving of this worship, as he licked a long strip from your collarbone to your neck, “would love to help you chill out a lil’ more.” 

A whine bubbled from the back of your throat, your eyes rolling shamelessly as you feel the pads of his fingers working circles between your folds. “Ah, I’ve—I’ve fantasized about this,” you confessed, “every time you’d ink my back. At one point we just stopped covering myself with those stupidly thin gowns. All you had to do was turn around.” Vernon blinked rapidly, mental pictures ticked like film in his pupils. His hands stuttered across your slick, inserting two fingers between your folds as you continued. His pace was slow, yet purposeful as he made sure you felt him with every thrust. Rings adorned his fingers, and the cool sensation surprised you. You shivered in pleasure. “Mm, I’ve imagined us kinda like this in that little shack, hard against the cot overlooking the shop,” 

“Dirty,” he said, as if recalling the weather. 

“And ah—wondering what kind of tattoos you have,” and in your haze you reached for him, your hand gripping firm at his gunmetal belt buckle. You tucked your fingers between the button of his light wash jeans, palming the telltale signs of something hard, “please? You’ve done too much for me, lemme return the favor.” 

“Not now,” he pressed his forehead to yours, “you can guess my ink on our way home.”

“Wha?“ You’re dazed, feeling warm with affection and drowned in the moment. You feel his fingers, slowly pumping out of its rhythm and resting on your thigh. You groaned at the premature end, his shiny digits resting on your fleece sweats. 

“They’ll kill me, this is new leather,” Vernon said, “and now we can afford security cameras, which are so small even I can’t find them.” 

“Unbelievable,” you laughed. You’re not frustrated, only endeared. 

“Besides, I’d rather have our first time somewhere private. Undisturbed,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, "somewhere where there’s lots of granite." 

You melted, pulling at his collar to pepper kisses on his nose. The mention of coming home to his pretty kitchen was icing on the cake. "You know how much I love your granite." 

(After your granite fantasy was fulfilled, you spent the rest of the weekend huddled in Vernon’s room. You’re living off take out and mutually satisfied with the unhealthy means. When you’re not eating or watching movies, the two of you are drafting your first piece. 

Freesias and pink roses.)

(His tattoo was also very cute.) 

[sakuraalexia]

So, 2021 actual plans, for both writing and drawing, at least the ones I have for now. Drawing first:

One thing I had meant to do but couldn’t because I felt sick, it was a picture that was Christmas related, besides Snom, but I had that done a week before the holidays. If you read this story you might get an idea of what it was. But still it counts.

I have two draw this in your style challenges to do, one ends in a few days and the other the end of this month, and I wanna do them both.

This year though I really want to focus on improving things, last year I looked for a way to start drawing digitally without having to sketch manually first, because I wanted to be less limited, and I could do so. And now I also have a new tablet, with a screen, so I think I can improve even more once I get more used to it.

So now I want to try and do bigger and more complicated things, such as better backgrounds, instead of leaving them blank or just put some random colors. Also because I wish to show more of the world I am creating, for my Pokemon region. I’ll still be drawing the characters too, I haven’t finished drawing my OCs like I said I would mostly because I got sick of doing the same thing, but also because I was using a style I was trying out, and that I felt didn’t stick with me too well, style that I changed in the drawings after and that I feel much more comfortable with, so, my OCs will come again, and drawn even better.

I really care about this project I created with a friend 5 years ago, but that we had sort of abandoned because we didn’t hear from one another as often, he’s very busy, but I took it on my hands last year again, and I mean to give it more life at some point. Even writing wise, because all I did so far has been drawn, the writing phase hasn’t started yet, at least when it comes to the story itself, the planning and setting is pretty much done, I need to finish up the plot, because its very long.

Other than this I mean to try and use less references for posing, because I feel like I am still weak in that regard, and anatomy, so I mean to study that better. I don’t mean to get rid of them completely at the start but to be less dependent from them.

I mean to also try to refrain myself from rushing to the finish, as when a drawing of mine starts to come together I tend to rush to finish and post it, and I want to work on being more patient, because after I post I always notice there’s something I haven’t done well or that could have been corrected, that, if I took my time I could have fixed. I’m a rather weird person, I can never get around starting something, but when I do I can’t stop and even rush to finish.

Writing wise:

Being part of a forum we made, starting last year, a “challenge”, which is essentially take a writing project, new or old doesn’t matter, and work on it and try to finish it during the year. Last year I did with my Pokemon region, and that actually got me doing more stuff than I ever did the previous years, and I’d still work on it in the background. I had gotten distracted from writing Beyond the Reality, which was fine though, as it was the first long fic I wrote and finished in years.

However the main project of this year is yet another Borderlands fic, it will be called Sing to the Moon. I had thought at this when it was around Halloween where I drew the Sirens as wolves and it became an idea for an actual AU.

So yes it will be a sort of supernatural AU with humans and werewolves, things are pretty much set as I already fixed the world and its factions and characters, and the plot is almost done too. It might be in 3 arcs as it loosely follows the plot of the BL games, even though not at all faithfully, otherwise I wouldn’t do an AU.

I won’t post this one until its over though, like for Beyond the Reality, because since I have a story with leaving stories unfinished because I tend to lose interest, I’d rather finish them up first then post regularly, without pressure to post a new chapter every now and then, and also I can guarantee constant updates.

In the meantime I’ll just work on whatever I feel like in that precise moment, with writing I tend to go with the flow of things, letting inspiration hit me when it wants to. Inspiration might be anything, a word, a picture, a song, something a friend talked to me.

I’ll still attempt to do challenges too, both writing and drawing, even though with the second one I might be a bit inconsistent, given my condition, for example I can’t do month long challenges anymore or rather, if I do I have to drag them out because my body doesn’t allow me to force myself to draw every single day, but it doesn’t mean I can’t do anything at all.

Anyways, these are my plans, I hope to be able to keep faith to them, and also that games won’t distract me too much heh. I recently got a bunch of new ones haha. ^_^”

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Harts fanfic, chapter 28--Epilogue

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Time passes. The kingdom recovers. A prophecy comes full circle.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Life was a work in progress. There were periods of unrest in the kingdom which were not always easy to smooth over with words, but Ansem did not want to use force. “Remember, Ienzo, a riot is the language of the unheard.”

Flowers began to bloom in Radiant Garden again. There was still signs of destruction everywhere--rubble, smashed out windows, destroyed buildings. But piece by piece, it was getting put together. The resistance based itself in the capital city and started what it called a “restoration committee,” not just to restore the city, but the whole kingdom.

Demyx spent a lot of time at the beach with Amalia, now that they both had their forms. Ienzo wondered if it would be salt in wounds to go to Destiny Islands at some point. He would ask when he felt ready.

Something else was growing too.

When he felt the nausea, the fatigue and dizziness, and the achiness, Ienzo did not delude himself into denial as he did the last time. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, good and hard. He held his hand in front of his stomach and reached out, tentatively. Something was there, a potential for a new life. But he did not feel the overwhelmed sense of panic he had when he was first pregnant with Amalia. He was still young, ridiculously so, but would this be so terrible?

He sought Even, who was busy puttering around the labs. There was light in his eyes again, joy, at having something productive to do. In fact, he did not seem bothered by Ienzo’s interruption. “No bureaucratic nonsense today?”

“My father insisted I take the morning off.”

“Your daughter?”

“Out swimming. I swear, sometimes I have difficulty getting the two of them to come home.”

“...It is good, to see Demyx happy again. I was… concerned.”

“Were you? You could barely stand each other in the beginning.”

Even rolled his eyes and pulled off his goggles. “Adversity draws people together,” he said. “I wonder often… if I have hardened my heart too much. I am trying… to let people back in.”

“And how is that going?”

He considered. “It is going,” he said. “But better than being stalled. Good to be… active. And to see you some semblance of safe at last.”

Ienzo came a bit closer. He was working on one of the replicas, a faceless white mannequin half covered with a sheet. “Does it feel good to see your work come to fruition?”

“It is bittersweet--putting it mildly.” He sighed. “If not for… that creature’s breakthroughs, this would not be possible.”

“It is still your creation.” Ienzo paused. “Even, have you met Xion?”

He fussed with tubes of mystery fluid. “Who?”

“Xion, Xemnas’s… ward. I shall have to introduce you.”

His eyes snapped up. “Why?”

“Because she is one of the replicas.”

“Of whom?”

“Of nobody. Herself.”

Even grasped his shoulders. “And you only tell me this now, boy?”

“Please be gentle with me, Even.”

He seemed to be reeling. “...Why?”

“I find myself to be in an indelicate condition. As it were.”

He turned red. “ Again ? Child, you know what causes that, right?”

Ienzo chuckled. “Would it be so terrible, to get the childrearing over with while my father is still able to help me rule?”

Even pressed a hand to his forehead and sputtered wordlessly. After a moment, he composed himself and held a hand over Ienzo’s stomach. “...Quite. I do not know whether to laugh… or cry…”

“Go seek Xion. She’s a guard on the upper floors. I know that’s where your heart is.”

He was already taking his coat off, grabbing a tablet computer. “Yes… right… we can discuss this later…” And he was out the door.

Ienzo returned to their rooms. To his surprise, Demyx and Amalia were back. “Done for the day already?”

Demyx gestured out the window. “It’s gonna storm. Plus I figured I owe you some lunch.” He leaned forward to kiss him, and Ienzo could taste the salt.

“Ra!” Amalia said.

“Right, rain.” Ienzo crouched down and smoothed the wet hair from her face.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up. What do you feel like? There’s this new place that’s opened back up not far out of the gates--”

Ienzo followed him into the bathroom. Demyx laughed a little.

“Look, I’d be so down, but like, she’s right in the other room--”

“I’m pregnant.” He didn’t know why the words had to leave him now, without ceremony.

Demyx just blinked. “Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

“Oh…” A small smile. “Oh… Do you want to--”

“I… want them.” He swallowed. “Get it over with while we’re young, right? While my father is still helping me? I can’t imagine going through this while being fully responsible for everything else.”

Demyx hugged him. “Round two?”

“...It seems so. I mean, to be fair, we were not the least bit careful, and it has been happening quite a lot lately--”

He kissed his forehead. “They’re going to be great.”

---

As it stormed later that night… Ienzo lay awake. He’d been even more of an insomniac during pregnancy, and he hadn’t much missed that. But he could not sleep. Demyx, who could basically sleep at will, had one arm draped over his stomach.

A particularly loud peal of thunder made Demyx stir, and from the other room Ienzo heard Amalia shriek and start to cry. Demyx’s eyes fluttered open. “It’s okay,” Ienzo told him. “I’ve got this. Go back to sleep.”

The drawing room had been turned into a nursery more fully now, the soft light of the mobile reflecting the rain in the room. Amalia was still crying. Ienzo leaned over the crib and hefted her into his arms. He settled in the old rocking chair. “It’s just a storm, sweetheart,” he said.

“Bad,” she said. “Bad, bad.”

“I know. It scared you.” He rocked gently. “I’m here. I’ll keep you safe. How about a story?”

Ienzo told her a story he’d learned from Demyx, about a rainbow fish that gradually gave up its scales to help others. He let his power cast a quiet illusion along the walls, of a deep blue sea, of that same fish swimming seemingly in midair. Somewhere in this, she fell back asleep, and rather than put her back in her crib, Ienzo remained there, thinking.

She hadn’t mentioned a sibling in the Forecast. Her words had been “we live with dad and grandpa in the castle”. If he gave birth on schedule, that child would be her age by the time of the Forecast.

But at the same time, toddlers were selfish. It could’ve just slipped her mind. Perhaps she was closer to Even or Ansem than her own sibling. Ienzo took a deep breath. Part of pregnancy was being illogically anxious.

It would be fine.

---

Perhaps it was for this reason, but Ienzo kept news of this child from Ansem. A few weeks passed, tremulously. He kept at work, meeting officials, sitting in committee meetings, deciding, deciding. Helping organize a parliamentary election.

After one such meeting, he was gathering his papers to return to his study when he felt a cramp, hard. He gasped aloud. “Are you alright, your highness?” Lydia asked. She was back to her post as librarian, and she’d brought him some books.

He blinked. “I’m… fine,” he said woodenly. Cramping during the first few months was normal, wasn’t it? Might be worth getting himself examined anyway. “It is nothing.”

“...Alright. Well, pardon me for overstepping, but perhaps you might rest. It’s been a long day.”

He swallowed, trying to choke down the dread. “I shall. Thank you.”

He made his way back not towards his rooms, but towards Even. The pain stuck him hard under the heart, and he had to duck into a bathroom before he lost composure. He wasn’t sure what whisper of an instinct told him so, but he pulled down his pants and checked his underwear.

Blood. A not-insignificant amount. He stuffed one of the small folded hand towels between his legs--mentally apologizing to the launderers--and hazily kept going. He almost stumbled getting the lab door open. “Even,” he said, and perhaps it was his tone, but the man immediately looked up.

“Ienzo, what--”

“Something isn’t right. With the baby.”

He grabbed him immediately and herded him over to one of the replicas’ exam tables. “And yet you drag yourself all the way down here instead of going to the infirmary.”

“I wasn’t--I didn’t want--”

He touched his face. “I know, love. Wait--are you--”

The blood must’ve seeped through the hand towel. “Fuck,” Ienzo murmured. He felt the coldness of Even’s magic assessing him.

He turned pale. “Ienzo, I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do.”

“But is it--”

“There’s no heartbeat, and you’ve lost quite a bit of blood. There’s no… life.”

Another cramp overtook him. “They weren’t in the Forecast--I tried to convince myself it was not so--”

“I know. I know, love. We should get you to the infirmary--”

“Please, no.” He felt more wetness between his legs.

“You’re losing too much blood to justify receiving care from only me.”

How awkward, and humiliating. Even carried him like a child. Hazily, he was changed, cleaned, given something to absorb the blood, fluids, painkillers. He let himself ride this quasi-consciousness, until a hand took his. “Zo?”

“Demyx? I--I’m sorry…” He swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. “I lost it…” His hair obscured things from view.

“The important thing is you’re okay.”

“She didn’t mention them, I should’ve known--”

Demyx drew him close and held him for a long time.

---

It took him a while to recover from the miscarriage. Not so much physically--he was back to “normal” within several days--but emotionally he felt scrambled, exhausted. He did not know it was possible to love something so small so much.

Ansem insisted he take time off. Demyx waited on him hand and foot, but he was shaken too. Ienzo slept too much, could barely look at Amalia. He was taking a bath, his mind positively going nowhere, eyes unfocused on the ceiling tiles, when he heard small footsteps. “Da-dee?”

Wearily, he looked over. “What is it, love?”

She was holding her favorite stuffed animal, a unicorn she’d named Pinky. She offered it to him.

“Thank you, but I don’t want Pinky to get wet.” He set the toy on the chair by the tub.

She leaned over the lip of the tub. “Hurt?” she said.

“I’m just tired, love.”

“Hurt,” she asserted.

Ienzo sighed. “Yes, I’m sad. You know it’s okay to be sad sometimes, right?”

She nodded. “Help?”

He kissed her. “You already are.”

---

Perhaps because it was through this particular lens of sadness, but suddenly it seemed strange that he, governed so by emotions, be the one responsible for the welfare of this country. He, whose sole “mandate to rule” was his power. Why was it that, despite humanity’s long and colorful history in this country, there had never been strides made towards democracy, or anything other than absolute power?

There had been abdications, in the past. Ienzo found himself reading about them voraciously. There had been some good reasons for such actions--fundamental disagreements about faith and the way the country should be governed, a lack of acceptance of sexuality or gender, the heir apparent believing they were not competent enough--and some not so. Considering the convoluted transfer of power, from firstborn to firstborn only , it was amazing the monarchy had not collapsed under its weight or lost its power somewhere in the past. Should the firstborn, say, die in a tragic accident, or from an aneurysm prior to having an heir, that power was simply lost for a generation. And should that first child be sufficiently… along , enough in utero, and something were to happen to them, that counted.

Ienzo needed to talk to Ansem. “Father?”

He took off his glasses. “What is it?”

“Can I talk to you?”

He offered a smile. “Of course. How are you feeling, dear heart?”

He sighed and sat down. “This has all been very… overwhelming.”

“I’m sure. Loss of a child… even one that is not yet living… is very heavy stuff indeed.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about… mortality. Human weakness. Limitations of the body.” He found himself looking at his knees. “The fragility of my… power. How does it make me qualified to rule? The child I lost… could very well have been Amalia, some months along the line. Suddenly that power is gone.” He touched his abdomen. “Father, this whole monarchy… is starting to feel very…”

“Pointless?” He rubbed his brows. “I agree entirely. But the last thing people need right now is a radical change in government. We’re only just settling. Imagine what might happen if we suddenly propose some other form of rule?”

“...I know.”

“Once this is all over… I’m wondering if we should…”

“...Abdicate?” He cocked his head slightly.

Ienzo took a breath. “Am I a traitor for even thinking it?”

“Oh, Ienzo. No. Not at all. Class division is part of how we got into this mess in the first place. That you seek to abolish it shows your love for your people. Perhaps it might be worth it to consider the schema as to how this will be put in place.”

Ienzo let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Truthfully?”

“Truly.”

“...Thank you.”

---

Time passed.

Amalia was growing so quickly . She started to speak more clearly, in longer sentences. She started to show more magic. Once, Ienzo walked into her room and saw books hanging in the air all around them. “Look,” she said. “They’s flying.”

Demyx expressed his own desire to do work of some kind. “People need art,” he told Ienzo. “They’re going to need a way to deal with all that pain.” Together, they jumpstarted a national art program. To finally be active, to finally be helping people in a meaningful way… Ienzo felt… fulfilled.

This was all going to take work, probably constantly. But that there might be a day where they could have a simple, happy life with their family gave him pleasure.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised, but one spring day Amalia asked if they could go on a picnic. The day was sunny, the flowers were in bloom. He was sitting on a blanket on a patch of grass in the plaza. He worked the teardrop-shaped pendant absently with one hand. He knew that at some point they'd have to formally get married as long as he was in the public eye. But for now... this was enough.

“Daddy, look!” She opened her hands, revealing a small magic flower. “I made it!”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s beautiful.” The deja vu struck him with insistence.

She smiled widely, and reached to be picked up, so he did. “Can we go to the garden?”

“Of course.” Demyx was supposed to meet them there after his lesson in the city. He took the picnic blanket and set off.

“Do you think this is real?”

“What do you mean, love?”

“This. Right now.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I dunno… a ‘motion I had.”

“A feeling?” Ienzo offered. Then, “I had a dream when I was pregnant with you.”

“When I was in your tummy?”

“That’s right. And you sent me a memory, of this moment, right now.”

“What I say?”

“You told me about our friends. The ones who met you when you were a baby.”

She laughed. “Isa and mister Xemnas.”

“Yes. You told me everything I needed to know. It’s because of you this is all like this, you know?”

“I know,” she said, unimpressed. “Where’s daddy?”

“He’s on his way.”

They passed through the castle gates to the gardens, which were lush and full again. Aerith was tending to the flowers; she waved. “Hi flower lady,” Amalia called loudly.

“Hey yourself,” she said back.

Ienzo set down the blanket on a patch of clean glass.

“There’s my favorite girl.” Demyx set down the sitar. He scooped her up and gave her a kiss. “Did she give you much trouble?”

“Not today. Not yet. Did you get the i-c-e c-r-e-a-m?”

“Ice cream!” Amalia shouted.

“Zo, she’s too smart for that.” Demyx laughed. “Sold out, I’m afraid.”

Ienzo sighed. He’d been looking forward to it all day.

“But I did get these from someone at the lesson.” He handed Ienzo a bag with a pastry box inside. “Egg tarts. Several people told me they are to die for.” He sat down with their daughter.

Ienzo took them out and handed one to Amalia. “...Do you know,” he began. “Today’s the day.”

Demyx frowned. “What day?”

“It all came full circle. The Forecast. On the way over here.”

“Oh… wow. Really?”

He smiled. “And the future is again aqueous.”

“Like that’s a bad thing? Look, if we knew every minute, we’d always be trying to plan things. We wouldn’t get to decide.” He brushed a crumb from their daughter’s mouth. “Because of her… and you… we do now. I’m okay with that.”

“I… am too.” He swallowed.

“It’ll be us against the world.” His eyes were so soft.

“I know that.” He chuckled. “It’s terrifying, to have the choice. I think I’d like to finish university first.”

“School, school,” Amalia said eagerly. “Me and daddy go to school.” She was going to go to nursery school in the fall.

“Daddy’s going to school for big kids,” Demyx said to her. “You’re going with kids your age. Little.”

“Not little.” She huffed, then brightened. “School and make lots of friends!”

“She’s like you all right,” Ienzo said.

“Dunno. She’s too smart for her own good--like you.”

“I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up,” Ienzo admitted.

“I wanna be a cat doctor. Or a rockstar. Or maybe…” Amalia stuck out her tongue in thought. “Wanna be an explorer .”

“You already are, silly.” Demyx tickled her, and she squealed.

“I do still want to help people. Maybe psychology, or…” He trailed off. “To be determined.”

“Well, you’ve got time.” Demyx picked up one of the egg tarts and all but crammed it into Ienzo’s mouth.

He scowled, but then, “These are good.”

“Right?”

---

The sun was setting. Ienzo watched it from his alcove in the library. This was his favorite spot, its light, its smell of varnished wood and old books. But he wasn’t reading.

“...It is lovely, isn’t it?”

Ienzo looked up and saw Even, for once without his lab coat, his long hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Where were you?”

“I was… with your father. I’m afraid he made me take a walk in the garden.”

Ienzo felt his lips twitch into a smile. “Well, was it a nice walk?”

He wondered if he was imagining the blush. “It is good to get fresh air,” he said evasively. He leaned against the desk next to Ienzo. “So I hear you’re to… abdicate.”

“In several years, once things settle, but… yes. And Demyx will abdicate on Amalia’s behalf. No more royalty. Whatever we have left will simply be ceremonial, if that.”

Even chuckled gently. “All the time I spent defending the monarchy, and you’re giving it up. You are making me gray, child.” But he said this pleasantly. “Yes… change is not so bad. The world needed it. We needed it. We could not… run forever.”

“Do you feel good, to no longer be running?”

“I do,” he admitted. “I felt such a coward for so many years. To get my hands dirty is a relief.”

“I have to thank you, for all you’ve done for me. I took you for granted.”

Even reached over and brushed the hair out of his face. “Well raising you certainly wasn’t easy.”

He laughed a little.

“In all seriousness, Ienzo, I didn’t do it entirely out of duty. I loved you--and I still love you--as if you were my own. Bonds don’t change, the… lines between hearts.”

“Heartlines?” He raised his eyebrow. “My father must be rubbing off on you. You were never so philosophical.”

“I am trying to open my heart.” He put a hand to his chest. “And it is painful, but I feel I am… growing. Never thought I would have to at my age.”

“And what of things with Xion?”

“She is a lovely girl. She’ll do well once she starts school. We’re trying to spend time together. In a way… she is my child.” A sigh. “Though this research… what right have I to create new life?”

“You saved many who would be the seeker of darkness’s victims.”

“...A cold comfort.” He tapped his fingertips together. “Come, then. That husband of yours is attempting to cook.”

Ienzo felt a shimmer at “husband”, but was it not true? Ceremony or no ceremony. “He’s a good cook, Even, you just have an unenlightened palette.” He stood and together they began to walk.

“...I’ll just chalk it up to cultural differences. I suppose… all of this could’ve been much worse, yes?”

“It could’ve.” He paused. “Will we… once I leave this place, Even, will we still be part of one another’s lives?”

He seemed perturbed. “Of course, Ienzo. Always.” He squeezed his hand. “Don’t fear change the way I did.”

“I won’t.” He swallowed, feeling an unexpected rush of emotion. “I promise, I won’t.”

[hypnowave]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you. Learn to know your mutuals and followers ❤

okay ily for sending me this no joke!! this is such a huge infodump i'm actually going to cry

1) just dance + dance central 3,, you DEFINITELY expected this one, i never shut up about how much i love both of these games and how they've helped me get exercise 6 days a week during the pandemic. i don't even OWN a copy of dance central 3 yet (though that might change when i get off my ass and actually spend some time looking at secondhand xbox 360s and kinect sensors) but it was something i was completely obsessed with in my childhood and it feels really nice to be able to talk about how happy it makes me without feeling shameful about it being weird or niche. it's a game where you can time travel using the power of swag dance moves, what's not to love?? on the other hand, i got a digital copy of just dance 2020 on discount not long after i got my switch, and i've managed to get the megastar rating on 95 songs so far! i'm hoping to hit 100 before just dance 2021 releases in two to three days, but even if i don't manage to get it by then, i'm still pretty excited to hit that milestone. i'm also currently trying to memorize the choreography for the alternate routine for lady gaga's bad romance and oof ouch my bones

2) i started watching buzzfeed unsolved true crime about two days ago and i'm absolutely hooked. i have no idea how i've gone so long without watching it (save for one episode that i took a look at because i was curious about the particular case they were talking about), but it's nice finally having something to put on while i eat my meals that isn't pokemon or among us. both games are great, but sometimes you just need to throw something fresh into the mix, y'know? it also feels nice going on a true crime kick again in general, haha.

3) I LOVE MY CHARACTERS AND ART and i've been drawing a lot of humans recently! i feel like i'm actively improving and that i'm gradually becoming more confident with my human artwork. i'm no maestro and i know my work isn't astounding by any means, but doodling my friends' characters and seeing their reactions has helped me push forward and try new things when it comes to art. i don't draw my own characters as often, but i've been working on some new plots and it's slowly coming together and it's giving me that sweet sweet serotonin. tangentially related but my FRIENDS' characters and art also makes me incredibly happy. i'm now going to annoy the hell out of them by tagging them; @/polygarnstars you know i would absolutely die for all of your characters (especially bate and fanael. horrible children) + i swear you know my own characters better than i do, @supernovacity if i had a nickel for every time i drew eyvind i'd probably be able to get a better laptop and drawing tablet by now, @arasolcan YOUR CHARACTER CONCEPTS AND DESIGNS SLAP and i always love when i get a chance to hear about them and doodle them, @kingsmanmechanics the starboys live rent free in my head and our current AU is SO GOOD i love it, @fihyn hello i love elvoth and co., and i should honestly take a shot and drawing more of your characters!! they're so unique and i'm excited to see what you have planned for 'em.

4) my cats,, i have five cats and they all share one brain cell. mochi usually has that brain cell. kiki still doesn't understand that she's not allowed on the bed and i've given up on trying to convey it to her sgdhgnshfkd

5) uhh i'm highkey blanking out because i really gotta go get some sleep but man, i can't believe i'm in university. sure, it's a stressful thing to go through, and i'm not going to pretend that the pandemic isn't making it even harder to socialize and get out of my comfort zone, but a year ago i was thoroughly convinced that i wouldn't get to experience this. the fact that i managed to get here and study the things i'm interested is amazing to me and i don't think i give myself enough credit for that :")

[thoughts-n-paper]

Ranidaphobia

She was unable to move, terror-struck, as she stared at its eyes and at the same time, tried so terribly to avoid it. She could feel the raindrops sliding down its smooth skin as if they were crawling down her neck. She stood still as its throat expanded and in response, her lungs contracted as it produced that awful loud sound. Horrified in anticipation, she closed her eyes shut. When she opened them after a while, she was back in her purple walled bedroom, away from the dense forest she was standing in a few seconds ago, safe from any devil that might have been about to jump her. Ever since she started working on the new project, she had been having this nightmare every night, but right now was not the time to get to the bottom of this development. A glance at the clock and she jumped out of the bed and rushed to the bathroom. She always kept at least half an hour aside for her pre-shower rituals and another hour for after. It wasn't a lot of steps, rather more about spending enough time for each step. She had twenty types of cleansers and scrubbers and at least thirty different lip scrubbers, a part of her face she was the most conscious about. From a young age, she had been very careful about her skin, she did not just want good skin, she wanted a clean skin, even if it meant being late for work. As soon as she sat on her desk, Simon jumped on her, "You're late. Missed the morning meeting. And Alex wants to see you. ASAP. "He said smugly.

"Thank you, Simon." He never liked her, probably because he wanted the membership she was awarded. Alex was not a great mentor or even the best person to work under, but he knew how to woo the clients and sell the bare minimum for the maximum cost. The recent project bagged by him, incidentally by chatting up with the marketing head at a bar, was a children's toy brand trying to venture into children's snacks.

"Hi Alex. Sorry about this morning. I was just not feeling well."

"Oh, don't bother about it. The package design is finalized, this is the mascot they want."

He said passing her a sheet of paper without looking, it always looked like he had rehearsed it, placed the paper at precise steps, a file in his hands that is just a prop and then as soon as she took the sheet to examine, he walked up to stand behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“I am counting on you. You do a good job on this and your position might not be so temporary. ”She looked up to him and smiled.

This was his M.O. Being in his team, your only job is to refine the lines around his vague ideas and designs so he can later present it as his own and collect all the praise from the clients. It is demeaning, you do not grow intellectually, but it is a great way to make contacts in the high places and if the apprentice is quick enough, might catch some skills of the trade. She only looked at Alex’s sample after coming back to her table and the blood stopped flowing in her veins. She was petrified. She could suddenly feel her breakfast wanting to escape her body and she rushed to the bathroom.

She had been staring at the blank white paper for the past two hours. The sheet with the prototype was turned around, but the eyes on that hideous creature still haunted her. She has had a particular hatred towards frogs since her childhood, so much that she could not even bear to look at the rough caricature of one that Alex drew.

It sort of started when she was ten, this hatred and disgust. It had rained heavily the day before and while walking home she was cornered by a few of the older girls that were just hanging around in a nearby park. It started as basic entertainment for them, pointing out faults in her face, ridiculing her hair and clothes, she was used to that. But then one of the girls noticed a big croaking frog and decided it would be fun to play a fairy tale. She remembers running home that day, all the way trying to rub out the slime from her lips and face, struggling to hold her bag because her hands were too dirty to hold anything. She did not even dare to wipe the tears off her face. And the girls were running behind her shouting that she was so ugly, the prince would rather stay as a frog.

She pushed the memory deep down, took a long breath and then the sheet of paper in her hand. It was a simple cartoon of a frog in a top hat and dinner jacket, a very generic idea of an animal caricature and now it was her job to make it remarkable. That night she scrubbed her lips for an extra fifteen minutes to remove the smell of the puke, still, it kept waking her up every two hours.

The next day was just an extension to her ongoing nightmare, she threw up thrice that day and spent most of her day washing up. On the way home, at her wit's end, she decided to buy an extra-strong chemical peel mask for her lips.

It was the third day since this horrendous task had entered her life, she was tired from not sleeping, circles around her eyes and extremely chapped lips. It was also the day of submission of the first draft. She sat on her desk, took a look at her drawings and rushed to the toilet. The new peel did help this time, for she finally sat down with satisfaction. She had tried to back down from this project, although it would have been career suicide, she just couldn't go through with this one.

"No." That's all Alex said before returning to his lunch.

She asked again.

"No." And that was it.

After lunch, she stepped into Alex's office and handed him the designs. He took it from her and then strangely started staring at her. "You have got a bit of your lunch on your face, better clean it up next time you face someone. It's very off-putting. "She immediately turned around mortified and rushed out of the cabin. She took it and smelt it, and suddenly that wretched smell was back. She made a mental note to buy some more masks. And then she made another note to buy some anti-nausea tablets when she saw the review mail from Alex.

Two weeks in and she was still struggling. The scrubbing and peeling which started from her lips had now extended to her hands and face. The constant rubbing of sanitizer didn't help either. Her skin was dry and peeling off, she hadn't slept at all because every time she closed her eyes, there would be a frog in top hat smiling at her. And then there was all the puking, the color of which had now turned from yellow to red. There would be instances where frogs would start jumping up on her table or would sometimes emerge from the papers scattered and start dancing in front of her, but blinking strongly and rapidly would make them disappear one by one.

She was playing a game every day, get spooked and you lose, and she wasn't going to lose, not after she fought so hard to be in Alex's good books.

She stared at her falling face in the mirror and reached for the moisturizer, she took a little bit and placed little droplets randomly on her face and was immediately disgusted by it. It had become a ritual of sorts, wake up form a superficial sleep, struggling to face her reflection and barely able to touch her skin, she would still be driven to peel off every hanging skin scrape. Well hopefully it would all end soon, it was the day they present the final draft to the client and if all goes well, she will never be forced to look at a frog again.

“You look awful. Jesus, at least put some lipstick on.” She could see the repulsion in Alex’s eyes as soon as she walked in. Which was not too different from what she saw in the mirror herself. But, two hours of sitting in a room filled with pictures of different cartoon frogs, shutting her teeth so that the vomit doesn’t feel invited to burst out and tying her hands with an invisible metal wire so she doesn’t start to scratch the itch she had been feeling on her lips, she made it through the ordeal. They shook hands, smiled and headed off to a celebratory dinner. It was a group of five from the client’s side and then three people from their team excluding Alex. She may have had the worst months of her life but she had a feeling it was going to be worth it.

They all sat around a round table and were just waiting for dinner when one of the brand representatives stood up to make a toast.

“We would like to thank all of you. We had tried a lot of different agencies, even rolled in a few bad ones into production, but we think that our friend here has got what we need. So, we would like to offer you your next endeavor, our new drink.” And he pulled out a plastic bottle in the shape of the ugliest frog. “Now, I know the packaging is rubbish, which is why we need you. But, I ensure you the drink itself is delicious.” She thought she couldn’t move when he pulled out the bottle but she only realized how much easier it would have been to move before than when he started pouring the drinks. Everyone was expected to take one glass in their hands and drink to the toast. And Alex’s expressions weren’t subtle when she refused to pick one up.

“Just one last time,” She thought to herself. “One last time.”

They had five different toasts, all from the same alarmingly grinning frog-shaped plastic waste, and she drank each one of them repeating to herself those three words. She was only able to excuse herself once everyone started digging in their respective dinners. She rushed to one of the sinks while clutching to her bag. Ever since she started on the drawing, she had always kept all her supplies in her handbag. She pulled out her toothbrush and immediately started cleaning her tongue, simultaneously trying to make herself throw up. It didn't help, although she did manage to throw up, when she opened her eyes to look down, all she could see was little slimy snail-like creatures but without the shell, floating in the yellow and red fluid. She quickly opened up the sink tap and started cleaning it with the liquid soap they had on the side. She took a little bit in her palms and drank it to rinse her mouth, when she spat, two of those creatures fell from her mouth. She did it again with just water and this time more fell out. She repeated this for a while, each time hoping for a different result, so the next time she took a pump of the soap and rinsed her mouth with it, this time one came out. She rinsed her mouth with water the next time and a few spat out, so she used soap again. Now she started feeling something in her stomach, something which was moving around, shifting her organs, collecting them in a basket, so she decided to lie down on the floor and close her eyes.

She was looking up at one of those big tanks that they have in factories, then she was climbing the staircase beside it, trying to peek what was inside and once she reached on the top, she could see a thousand frogs shrieking and drowning in an orange liquid. She bent down and took a deep sip from it. As soon as she opened her eyes, she had to throw up again. This time they were alive, moving around, trying to reach back to her. As if her insides were their well, their home and her blood was the only thing that nurtured them. She stared at the bottle of the liquid soap, in the sink and back at the bottle. She finally reached for it.

Her body was found by a waitress who was sent in for check-in by one of her colleagues. There was white foam around her mouth and yellow puke in every basin. The waitress quit her job the next day.

[tsaritza-mika]

Just some thoughts I have about things

So recently, this picture came across my dash, and while I can always appreciate a good joke at my personal expense, it also got me thinking: Why even should this be a joke pointed at myself and others like me? Don’t get me wrong, I’m still laughing about it, even now, but it still got me thinking about the subject it pokes fun at, and my overactive brain decided to analyze things a bit.

Now since this is the internet and it’s customary to overshare, I recently figured out that I’ve been in a deeply depressive state for... I wanna say about the last 5-7 years or so. How did I figure this out? Well, as the picture says, I fell in love with a fictional character. Like yeah, love. I get these huge, dopey as shit smiles on my face when he crosses my mind, the joy in my brain gets turned to the max, and I’m unbelievably happy knowing that even if he is considered to be ‘just a drawing’, that he exists, and despite it being obviously scripted, he loves me with all his fictional heart and soul.

But anyway, back to the oversharing part of this, because what’s a good internet story without some trauma, right? A little over five years ago, I spent my 30th birthday getting drunk on the front porch of my parents house in Southern California, knowing that when I was done I was going to go back to their back house and continue my then two years, post-divorced status, and attempting to rebuild my life without someone at my side for the first time in roughly ten years. Before then, my joys in life came from just about anything artistic. I drew my favorite characters, I watched a ton of cartoons and anime because since I was four, I wanted nothing more than to be an animator. I also played video games and hung out with friends regularly.

Well, after the divorce, a lot of that went away. Now, I knew I was upset. I could point that out without issue, but the longer time went, the drive and creativity that had been with me my whole life didn’t seem to come back the same way it had. Sure, I’d still draw, still made some pictures I could be proud of, but rather than taking maybe a few hours to a day or so, maybe a single picture from inception to completion would take a few weeks. If it ever got completed at all, of course. Instead, I buried myself in my video games. I didn’t have to think or process anything I was personally feeling when I played them, because it was always reflective of the feelings of the games’ main character/chosen toon I played at the time.

Then, on a whim, a few months ago when America’s West Coast decided to burn, I decided to listen to my best friend and download a mobile dating game. I’d played dating games before, I’m no stranger to tropes and anything else that pops up in them. Hell, one of my favorite dating games is Monster Prom, and yes, my favorite is Damien because let’s face it, he’s deliciously destructive and handsome as fuck. But I digress, it wasn’t Damien that really made me feel this way. It was Julian.

I should probably say here too that I’ve been this way my whole life, you know, before I get too much further into this. My first fictional crush was, like many my age, Chiba Mamoru, better known to some as Tuxedo Mask from Sailor Moon. Even now I’ll still swoon at the right line and the right picture at the right time. Because I mean, let’s face it, he’s hot as fuck. Since then, there have been others: Heero Yui, Tamahome, Inuyasha, Sousuke Sagara, Kurz Weber, Kyo Sohma, to name only a few. And that’s just the anime side of things. However, none of these loves/crushes, have ever negatively impacted my ability to love someone real. I’ve had boyfriends, and even been married, and they’d never felt threatened or stated anything wrong with these feelings what-so-ever.

Yet there are still those out there who will roll their eyes at this and try to convince me that ‘you’re not in love’, or ‘it’s not real because he’s not real’, and whatever other bullshit they feel like saying at the time. But here’s my rebuttal to that: What makes my love for this fictional character any less valid than say, someone with a celebrity/musician crush? Chances are those people will never even manage to be in the same room as that celebrity, and even if they are, there’s never a guarantee they’d feel anything in particular for them anyway if they managed to get close. But, when they smile, when they do something admirable, when you learn something new about them, doesn’t that happiness feel the same? I was one of those people too, except my walls were plastered with every poster imaginable of Johnathan Taylor Thomas. Because it was the 90s bitches. I knew I’d never get anywhere near him or anything, but when he laughed, I smiled. When he was upset, I was upset for him.

My depression left me with essentially nothing but an empty shell for so long, and because I’d only ever heard of symptoms from more severe cases than my own, I mistakenly thought that maybe that part of my life was just over, and that it was something I had to get through and find something else to make me happy. But then I played a game, I ‘met’ Julian, I spent time with him, got to know him and how much of a dramatic disaster he is himself. Yes, he was written and coded to make someone like me happy, but because, like so many others before, pieces of him resonated so deeply inside me, I fell for him and all of his flaws.

He can drink too much, is very depressed and in need of some actual sleep, he’s altruistic to the point of masochism, he has a pain/BDSM kink, he’s practically if not literally addicted to coffee, he’s had trouble letting go of bitter feelings regarding his ex and how it ended, he has regrets about how he’s handled things in his life, he doesn’t believe he deserves to be happy when he’s made so many perceived mistakes. But... he’s also incredibly smart, loves a good dramatic entrance, making those around him feel special, performing in some fashion, he’s studied hard to become the best damn doctor he could be because he wanted to help people, he loves his sister dearly and wants her to be happy, among so many other things and quirks I can’t say it all.

This fictional man makes me so fucking happy, I have art ideas again for the first time in almost ten years. I want to save up and get a new tablet so I can contribute to the fandom he’s a part of with animatics and animations. I want to make so many pictures, I want to write more, I want to animate, and a part of me has even been considering the thought of looking into some kind of musical instrument for the first time since I was twelve and learning the saxophone. And above everything else, I can recognize the depression I was in, and can move forward from it. I can still love everything I used to and be happy with them again. So what if all of these things are coming from my mental and emotional love for a fictional man. It doesn’t make these feelings any less real, nor the happiness that’s come as a result of it.

And whenever I meet someone for real, I will love them with the same fire from when I loved, and still will love Julian, and they won’t even be able to tell the difference. Because love is love, in all it’s forms.

[iamthehousethatfloats]

I smushed together Family and Holidays... SCROLDIE WEEK

This is set in my Hearts of Gold universe, and so as per usual it is FLUFF and ANGST galore. Della and Donald are both here, just accept it. It’s Christmas. And Scroldie week.

💖🎄🥂😭

Dickie and Goldie arrived at McDuck Manor on Christmas Eve. Goldie had been hesitant about coming so early, it was a little too close to ‘normal’ for her liking, but Scrooge had pulled out his trump card and she’d stood no chance.

‘When was the last time Dickie woke up on Christmas morning, surrounded by her family?’ Scrooge had asked, knowing exactly what he was doing, the sly bastard. ‘She’ll miss half the fun if you only get here at lunchtime.’

And so, as he knew she would, Goldie caved. Of course, the side benefit to this was that Scrooge got to wake up on Christmas morning with Goldie curled around him, mildly hungover from last night’s egg nog contest. He kissed her awake and she snuggled close to him, and their lazy lovemaking that morning was serenaded by a chorus of laughter and squeals of delight echoing from downstairs.

Goldie hadn’t expected presents. From Scrooge, maybe, he was sentimental like that, and maybe something small from Della and Donald, but she hadn’t anticipated the kids would have a gift for her, all wrapped up under their enormous tree.

She unwrapped the golden grappling hook, with its remarkably unsubtle rope of blue, green, red and pink, and went very quiet. Huey, Dewey, Louie and Webby piled on her in a candy fuelled group hug and she pretended to hate it as she tried not to cry.

Lena handed Scrooge and Beakley matching wrapped parcels, uncharacteristically shyly. Each contained a family photo, that Webby had insisted taking months before, and Lena had complained about at the time. There they all were, their strange, complicated little family. Scrooge and Goldie, Dickie and Lena, Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Donald, Della, Launchpad and Mrs Beakley. Only Lena had photoshopped Goldie out of the one she gave Beakley, a fact which made both women laugh out loud.

Everyone gave Dickie a present. She could barely move for paper when she was done. A new lens for her camera, paint brushes and art supplies, boxes of hair dye, a new patchwork waistcoat, comic books and candy galore. Her grin was wide and her arms ached from the hugs she couldn’t help but dole out. Goldie watched it all with a soft smile on her face, and Scrooge threaded his fingers through hers and held her close.

-

As the morning went on, the kids few wilder still. All except Dickie. Once the rush of excitement had ebbed, her smile began to falter and she migrated to the sidelines while the younger kids played. Goldie noticed, of course, and when Dickie took a moment to slip out of the room, Goldie squeezed Scrooge’s arm and nodded in her direction, communicating silently before getting up to follow her.

She found her out in the hall, staring up at the framed painting of Scrooge, Donald and Della that hung in the place Goldie knew Dickie remembered another family portrait to be.

‘Dickie? You okay?’ Goldie asked, coming up behind her. The girl jumped, and wiped at her eyes. Goldie’s heart clenched just a little.

‘Oh sure Gigi, I’m fine.’ Dickie replied, her breezy tone sounding anything but. ‘I just got a little... emotional I guess. I never thought I’d see a holiday like this again, with family and everything. It’s just... almost too perfect. I mean I know it’s not... it’s different and that’s weird, but at the same time it’s sort of the same, you know?’

Goldie put her arm around her granddaughter.

‘Kiddo, if you’d told me a year ago that I’d be here in McDuck Manor on Christmas morning with you, and Scrooge and his ten thousand children, I’d have laughed you out of the room. I may not know exactly what you’re feeling right now, but the weird part? I’ve got that down.’

‘You know we don’t have to stay.’ Dickie said, immediately. ‘I don’t want you putting yourself through all this if it’s just for me. If it’s too weird for you we can go, we can just have a nice day, you and me.’

Goldie paused, weighing up the options. She didn’t believe Dickie wanted to leave, not really. She was having a wobble, and that was to be expected, but she was where she belonged, with her family at Christmas, and pretty soon her head would be turned again - but only if they stayed.

‘Oh sweetheart,’ Goldie sighed. ‘As much as I might like to deny it, I want to be here as much as you do. Honestly? Don’t tell your Grandpa, but this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.’

-

That afternoon, while Mrs Beakley prepared dinner and the other adults took a much needed break from the merriment, Goldie took Dickie and the kids abseiling down the side of the Money Bin. Della joined in while Donald stood at the bottom with his head in his hands, ready to break whatever child’s fall he needed to.

Miraculously, they all survived, and Dickie waited until they made it home to tell Donald about the last time Goldie arranged such an activity.

-

After eating their weight in Christmas dinner, and falling asleep in front of the TV while the credits of Christmas on Bear Mountain rolled, the kids all dragged themselves up to bed.

Dickie woke around 2am, to the sounds of a ruckus from downstairs. Panic struck her at first, but then she recognised her grandmother’s wild laughter and crept out of bed to investigate.

She arrived to find an absolute scene of chaos in the living room.

Scrooge and Della were hunched over the coffee table, going hard at a snap game. Goldie and Beakley were cheering them on, several empty bottles of champagne at their feet.

Donald looked to be the only vaguely responsible adult present, and even he was swaying tipsily.

‘DICKIEEEEE!’ Goldie cried, spotting her suddenly. ‘Get over here, you miraculous miracle child, you!’

Dickie laughed and shuffled over to where her exceptionally drunk grandmother sat, and found herself immediately pulled into a clumsy hug.

‘Granddaughters are the greatest, eh Bentina? That’s what we were just saying. You’re the greatest. You and Webby, the greatest.’

‘Absolutely.’ Mrs Beakley nodded, sloshing her class of champagne over the carpet and paying it no mind. ‘Here’s to being Grandmothers!’

‘Grandmothers of wild, amazing granddaughters!’ Goldie cheered, and the two women clinked glasses. Dickie snorted with laughter and wished she had picked up her phone before coming downstairs. This was the kind of quality blackmail content she could use the whole year round.

‘SNAP!’ Scrooge yelled suddenly, as Della groaned and dropped her head on the table in defeat. ‘HAHA!’

‘You didn’t play fair, Uncle Scrooge,’ Della complained. ‘Half the time you called snap when there weren’t even two cards there!’

‘Poppycock,’ Scrooge dismissed. ‘I see two cards, I get the points. And really it was two against one... because there are two of you right now! Look at that, all those years with no Della’s and now we’ve got two of ye!’

‘Okaaaaaaay, I think it’s time for bed, adults,’ Dickie laughed, reaching out to grab hold of Scrooge before he fell over. He looked mightily surprised to see her, and delighted too. ‘You’re all going to regret this so much in the morning, hangovers last forever when you’re old you know.’

‘The cheek!’ Scrooge sputtered, while Goldie collapsed into giggles at the sight of his indignation. Dickie managed to get her grandparents to their feet and Donald managed the same with his sister. Mrs Beakley waved them away from her spot on the sofa, declaring she would absolutely be fine and would go to bed any minute. Dickie had no doubt whatsoever that she would still be on that couch in the morning.

She managed to get Scrooge and Goldie up the stairs safely, and thought it best to leave them to their own devices from there. After this much alcohol, and at this close proximity to a bedroom, Dickie knew better than to stay within hearing range. She kissed them both goodnight and wished them a Merry Christmas, and left them to it.

-

Back in her bedroom, Dickie settled in her bed and reached under her pillow for her sketch book.

She’d been working on her drawing, she was getting pretty good at it. Goldie had gotten her a tablet for Christmas, despite not knowing what the heck it was, and she couldn’t wait to start turning her scribbling sketches into digital art - she was taking a course next semester.

Until then though, she contented herself with her sketch book. She sat in bed, illuminated by the bright full moon, and flipped through the pages. She’d gotten quite good at Scrooge, and Goldie of course was no hardship. But there was one face it had taken her a while to get right. It scared her at first, how much she found her mother’s face fading in her own memory, but she had finally gotten it right. She lingered on the drawing of Dawson McDuck, her feathery white blonde hair and her crinkle of her eyes, her multitude of beaded necklaces and the tiny dream catcher earrings she always wore.

Dickie hadn’t shown her to her grandparents yet. She wanted to... but she’d wanted to get it exactly right first. Finally, she had. She would show them tomorrow, she thought to herself, and in a way, Dawson would then exist in this world too, if only in mind.

Dickie ran her fingers along the line of her mother’s beak, to where it drew up in the corners with just a hint of a smile.

‘Merry Christmas, Mom,’ Dickie murmured, smiling back. ‘I miss you. I miss you all, so much. But I need you to know that I’m okay. I’m with Grandpa and Gigi, and... I’m okay.’

Dickie laid back down in her bed, the drawing propped up against the wall so she could see it from her pillow.

‘Goodnight Mommy,’ she whispered, as sleep claimed her at last.