#i know of like.. zero artists who take commissions in general

[vitospaghetta]

lol I'm very sedated right now but while I am too sleepy to care about much of anything, I've come to ask you guys for any artist recommendations when it comes to commissions bc I very much plan on treating myself to a commission of my RE OC (and her with Leon!!) once I get my tax return.

I'm specifically looking for artists that have a more photorealistic style, but I'm ok with more simplistic styles too! I'm not necessarily picky.

[ms-demeanor]

Also I have to say "but bands are using AI art for their album covers" is not a winning argument.

That band wasn't going to pay you. That band was going to beg somebody's artist brother for a freebie or they were going to have the people in the band who can kind of draw draw something or they were going to use a moody photo someone took with their cellphone. Best possible scenario is "they were going to trade for something from someone in the scene," and this is still the most likely scenario for bands that *give a shit* about that kind of thing.

And I've been the one doing freebie artwork for my musician friends; I've made album covers and done promo shoots, I've drawn logos and I've got a standing offer to make buttons for the cost of materials for every band I've ever played a show with. The people who give a shit in the scene are already doing this because everybody knows that everybody's broke.

I'm certain that there's not *zero* overlap between "bands that can afford to pay artists and photographers to create album artwork" and "bands that are using AI art for their album covers" but if you think "indie musician" is a demographic that has money to spare on commissioned artwork, I'm pretty sure you're mistaken.

Like. Okay, I mean my *big* argument is that AI image generation is fair use, full stop.

But the secondary argument that I've got is that I'm not sure there's a market to have the bottom fall out of.

The person making shitty covers for their amazon romance novel was not going to pay you. They were going to pay someone on fiverr eight dollars *at best* and that's only if they couldn't find a way to DIY.

That band that's trying desperately to sell ten tickets so they can play a show at the cool venue was not going to pay you to do their cover art. Their last fifty bucks just went to covering those tickets because their friends aren't even coming to their free shows. They were going to stage a photoshoot with a cellphone and a timer and someone's sister's selfie stick.

That person who made an AI avatar was not going to pay you for a custom avatar they were going to take a screenshot of your work and use that.

The people who are able to afford to pay artists and who are interested in paying artists are not the people who are replacing artists with AI. The t-shirt dropshippers, the shitty book cover designers, the bland corporate artists, and the art reposting instagram pages were the ones who undercut your market.

If you're concerned that someone is going to use AI to make art that is materially similar to yours and sell it, you're just concerned that someone is going to make art that is materially similar to yours to sell. The concerns about AI doing it are functionally exactly the same as what happens when someone says "wow, I want that on a t-shirt" under your drawing. If someone were to draw a character similar to but distinct from yours with words similar to but distinct from yours and put a link to that on a reblog of your post, that person is not actually infringing on you. They're a shithead, but that's not actually art theft. If they used your character and your words, or if they directly copy the image, that's art theft and you can try to get their post taken down. It's the exact same thing with AI.

The people who care about art and can afford to pay for it are always going to pay for it. Your problem isn't with AI, your problem is with the fact that people don't value art and that's as true now as it was a decade ago.

You are trying to sell a complicated, crocheted sundress made with 100% hand-dyed alpaca wool on Etsy and are complaining that the loose knit acrylic sundress from walmart is undercutting your market. Some people are always going to make the effort to save up and pay for your work because they value the craftsmanship, but those people didn't want to shop at WalMart in the first place. And the ones who value your craftsmanship but just plain can't afford it were going to dig through the bins at a thrift store until they found a crocheted swim cover from the seventies that they could pass off as a dress with a few alterations.

[derpymule]

Hey, I don't appreciate you saying what I believe without even knowing me. I'm Ancom, I don't believe Capitalism provides anything but starvation wages for anyone except the rich fucks at the top. However I am pointing out that while we are *stuck* in this situation, stealing from another artist, not some corporation but an artist, is kind of shitty and taking what they could possibly need to survive.

By your logic, Disney could take someone's artwork, copy it and make it their own, with no payment, no need to do anything. Said artist could be surviving paycheck to paycheck, barely scraping by, or not even surviving paycheck to paycheck, needing medical/financial help, and they're desperately trying to get commissions in order to get it. But hey it's just art and it didn't *steal* the original, right? So Disney shouldn't have to pay or do anything, right? That artist should just get fucked because they put all that work into something, and someone else came along, scooped it up, and just claimed it as their own. Personally I'd rather corporations like Disney didn't exist, but this is the world we currently exist in.

My counter is this: what exactly has the artist lost in this situation? Their followers will still know they made the work first, so there’s no loss there. People who would have found it will still find it, and if it’s posted online they’ll have proof to show those people that they made it first. It’s not like the copy entirely replaces the original, both exist and the original will remain exactly as popular as it would have been anyway.

But, there’s an added aspect. These days, if a corporation steals fanart or something, they get massively called out. The company takes a reputation hit and the original artist gains a massive following from the publicity the drama produces. This is, unequivocally, a loss for the copier and a win for the original artist, no copyright law needed. Now, why exactly do you think this wouldn’t happen in a world without copyright law? Companies may try to steal works, but they will basically always get called out on it. And even if they didn’t, they’re still introducing a large amount of people to that specific kind of art, people who may very well search for more of the same and find that original artist. And even if only something like 1 in 1000 people do this, those large corporations regularly get 10s-100s of thousands of engagements, which means 10s-100s of people redirected to this artist.

To follow up on that: is this not a huge gain for the community? If it’s art good enough that a large corporation is willing to associate it with themselves, that means it’s art that will enrich many people who see it. This would have been art only a few people saw, but now it will reach several orders of magnitude more people who may be inspired or encouraged. Imagine if the Mona Lisa, or any other incredibly influential work, had been made by a tiny artist with a negligible following. Would it not be far preferable if a larger artist, one capable of corralling a large audience, displayed it among their own work? Would that not be far, far better for the entire art world? Do you not wonder how much work, how many cultural shifts have been lost to time because a small artist was too protective of their work and so it died with them?

I should clarify, this still isn’t optimal. In the best case scenario, big corporations would take fan works and display them, but they would credit the original artist. And I personally believe this would be how it would generally go in a world without copyright law, out of fear of reputation hits if nothing else (it’s not like it costs corporations anything to credit). But my argument here is that even in the worst case scenario, where corporations “steal” art with absolute abandon, there is still no real loss to the original artist, in fact in most cases there is gain, and there is always gain for the wider community. There is literally zero downside to this scenario for anyone but the corporations themselves, who will lose their stranglehold over IP.

[felixstudios]

Introduction

It has come to my attention that a lot of people make introduction posts on their blogs, so I've decided to create one!

My Content:

I'm an artist and a writer. I post whenever I make Toontown related art and I also post my Clash headcanons to my blog.

Can I leave a request?

For headcanons: yes! It's free game. I can't guarantee I can give you an answer, but you can ask me to leave pretty much any HCs as long as it's family friendly.

For art: no. I don't take requests for art; however, I do take commissions. Please click this link for more information, but prices start at $20 and may go as high as $95+ depending on what you want. I also only draw family friendly content.

What's this Playground Swap AU?

This is an AU I created where the 16 managers added in 1.3 are assigned to work in different playgrounds. Some of them even change job titles! If you'd like to read more about it, you can do so here. Please note it will have VERY slow updates but I'm not abandoning it!

What's this ask blog about?

This is just a silly blog for me to roleplay as my OCs on Tumblr and answer questions. If you wanna learn more, you can do that here. At the moment, this blog is kinda dead and I don't know if or when I'm going to bring it back.

Do you post anything not Toontown related?

Yes, but very rarely. I almost exclusively post things that are somehow related to Toontown. Typically it will be Toontown: Corporate Clash specifically, but sometimes it may be Toontown Rewritten.

Do you write anything besides headcanons?

Yes! I just don't post them on Tumblr- I post my stories to AO3 instead. You can find the link to my AO3 here.

About Me:

My name is Felix, and I use it/they/xey pronouns. I'm a moderator for Toontown: Corporate Clash.

My Discord is the_felixverse.

Should I contact you on Tumblr or Discord?

If you need to reach me, my preferred method of communication is Discord. However, if you have to use Tumblr, I don't mind!

What can I contact you about?

You can literally send me a screenshot of you T-posing in Toontown for all I care. However, if you have a TTCC moderation related concern, please seek help through the proper channels and not via my DMs. I cannot help you if you try to send reports via my DMs. You will likely just be ignored if you try.

What fandoms are you in?

Toontown {Rewritten and Corporate Clash more specifically}

Subnautica and Subnautica: Below Zero

I'm technically in more fandoms, but those are the only ones I'm currently active in. A few of my other notable interests include Bloons Tower Defense 6, House M.D., Danganronpa, Pokémon, and Five Nights at Freddy's 1-4.

How old are you?

I'm an adult.

Who's your favorite Cog?

This might be surprising to those of you who know my in-game club that I made is literally called Mouthpiece Admirers, but Cathal is my favorite. I still do stand by my club, though.

Can we meet up in-game on Clash or TTR?

Sure! Just DM me what game, when, and where you'd like to meet and I'll tell you if I can do that or not. Please list all times in that server's timezone {PST for TTR and EST for Clash} to avoid as much confusion as possible. As a general reference, I'm almost always free on weekends for gaming and tend to have restricted availability on weekdays.

How long have you been playing Toontown?

I played TTO when I was a kid, but I never had a membership because I grew up in extreme poverty. I started playing TTR in about 2018, and someone made me give Clash a try in 2020 but even after starting Barnacle Boatyard it didn't really catch on so I uninstalled it. I got bored of TTR in late 2022 and gave Clash another try, and I really liked it afterwards.

How long have you been a moderator for Corporate Clash?

As of July 2024, I completed my training about a year ago.

[81scorp]

Some thoughts on AI in art

Here are some thoughts on AI genertade images in art.

Some of these are mine, one of them is from Richard Williams book "The animator`s survival kit" and two of them are comments to a youtube video that talks about AI in art. (I have given credits to the original authors of those comments.)

A.I. is good and all but do we need A.I. art? Wasnt the point of A.I. that it would take over jobs that were too boring, difficult or dangerous for humans? Is doodling on a piece of paper too difficult now? A.I. art is for the consumer who wants their product delivered right NOW. A.I. art can be used as trainingwheels for artists but it shouldnt be the finished product. Are we artists or are we consumers?

AI image generators is great for lazy, impatient people who have no intention to learn how make their own art and are too cheap to hire an artist to draw for them.

AI is a tool, a double-edged sword. It can be used for a lot of fun things it can also work as a shortcut for lazy people. To be good at art takes time and effort and people are not very likely to want to learn how to create a painting if it is just the push of a few buttons away. The journey of learning is also an important part of becoming an artist.

Calling yourself an artist when you upload fully AI generated pictures is like calling yourself a chef because you heated some leftovers in the microwave oven.

When you tell an AI to generate some pics youre not the artist, youre the one who commissions the artwork, youre the employer. Now dont misunderstand what Im trying to say, this doesnt makes you bad, it just doesn`t make you the artist.

"You were so preoccupied with whether or not you could that you didn't stop to think if you should." ―Dr. Ian Malcolm

One thing that bugs me is when people say that AI "democratizes" art. It does not. I have seen sites on the internet, channels on youtube (Istebrak, Winged Canvas) and profiles on deviantart (Ethertingtonbrothers) filled with tutorials that teaches people how to draw. (How to draw perspective, buildings, wrinkles in clothes and more.) Heck, even before the internet there were short tutorials in Disney comic magazines (just to name one example) on how to draw Disney characters (like Donald Duck, Goofy, Mickey Mouse and others). Art was democratized long before AI. Just like everyone else I started from zero and am slowly learning more. Just because you know nothing in the beginning doesnt mean that you cant learn and just because youre not good at something doesnt mean that you cant get better at it. "But it takes time." Some will say. Thats right, art takes time. Art. Takes. Time. Sure, AI is faster, but it`s also like taking piano lessons on a self playing piano.

AI generated images are like the photorealistic remake of the Lion King: Sure, the technology is impressive but still… why?

"But we can learn to draw. There's the myth that you are either born draftsman or not. Wrong! Obviously, natural talent is a great help and the desire is essential, but drawing can be taught and drawing can be learnt. It's best to have done a ton of it at art school to get the foundation in early. But it can be done at any time. Just do it."

―Richard Williams, The Animator's Survival Kit

A lot of what I've been seeing about the "wonders" of AI art, it's never really impressed me because it plays off of the novelty of this being able to replicate styles without an artist's hand. I'm more impressed with its application to speed up certain production processes by being a supplement to the artist's vision. I feel people get so enamored by the flashiness of some new technology and go all in on that for the news outlets when its practical application is more subtle and boring. -Yensid951927 (youtube)

The reason people don't mess around with the music industry is because they have conglomerates and lawyers in place to punish those who don't respect their property. It may be cynical but I think the only thing that will keep artists safe from these bro personalities are legitimate financial threat and follow through. I think a limited version of AI, as a tool, can help actual artists do their work better but never replace it. That said, it needs to be seriously regulated in a way that prevents art theft, first and foremost. -viqverglas (youtube)

[thecalmerllama]

IN ADDITION TO THIS !!!

I would very much like to make some points clear that I forgot to mention in the post above ⬆️

Firstly, the TNCD MV that generative AI was used by the Queen Production Team to create. I would like to, before I tangent off, put up a disclaimer now to say that I am Anti-AI, proudly in fact, and that I will harshly be criticising the use of it to create this video. I am a small artist, like many in the Queen Fandom; I do not generally get any sort of profit off of my work and never get commissions come through, and work tirelessly around other commitments to keep my page up and running, and to share my art with the world. Now that that is out of the way, let's get to it:

1. Clearly the actual band had no say in how this video was created, both Brian and Roger (ESPECIALLY BRIAN) are AI-antis themselves, and if you even watched the musical "We Will Rock You", co-written with Ben Elton, you will see that they have been Anti-AI for decades. Literal DECADES. Still following? Okay good.

2. Brian said on the day the video was released, that it had only just been finalised, and that basically, he had no idea what to expect; and I'm going to assume, just like the 100 million other lyric videos that The Queen Production Team has shared since being with Sony, he and Roger had zero input into the video itself. If they did, just like the "A Kind Of Magic" lyric video, Brian May's solo cover "Maybe Baby" video and if you want to go even further back, the Save Me video, you can use your critical thinking skills and realise that they wouldn't have approved the AI usage. Now I am going to get a little bit defensive of Brian here, because seemingly once again, he has become the fandom punching bag, and this always seems to happen after something goes down that the fans have a general disliking to; To being called racist for promoting saving the planet and Sir David Attenborough's instagram account, to being called egotistical by Queen fans that thought he 'painted himself as the saviour of Queen' in the band's biopic 'Bohemian Rhapsody', to most recently being the prime target of Queen fans' attacks against the use of AI in the new music video. Now of course, Brian has his flaws, all of the band have their flaws (which sincerely needs to be acknowledged by fans), but do we really think that Brian May, the man concerned with saving British wildlife and being careful as to not misgender dragonflies and hedgehogs, and bear in mind THE MAN WHO LITERALLY JUST HAD A MINI STROKE, would be the mastermind behind supporting small artists so much to put them all in a book to coincide with his album rerelease, to only then sell out and use generative AI all by himself to create a video for a song that Queen fans are seemingly not happy that the *slightest* pitch changes to Freddie's voice have been made. No? Well unfortunately many Queen fans once again seem to have put him at the heart of this, and once again, this man in getting harassed in his comment sections. And I'm not saying there's a certain genre of Queen fans that usually do this, but.... (and I would also like to add, I've genuinely seen people saying that Brian wanted the entire new mix to sound 'perfect' and that he was the reason behind the 'autotuning' on Freddie's voice and that he's basically a terrible human being for it... even though he's literally released a video saying that this new version is how the band wished it sounded at the time!)

3. Anyway, I got a little off topic, but it needed to be said. I would like to also point out that this box set is exactly like the miracle box set; we're getting demos, a remixed album, multiple takes, bbc sessions, the lot. So tell me why this one is receiving this much backlash, yet the miracle one was received with open arms. Queen fans seem to be so over critical of everything the band do, and if your 'favourite band' can do nothing to please you with everything they release.. I'm just saying, there's the door.

I know I've rambled a lot but I just needed to get these points across, I'm sick of the Queen fans in every comment section complaining about this or that, saying that they'd do it one way or another and acting like, quite frankly, self entitled little brats who think they know better than the band they're meant to be idolising. I'm just saying, it doesn't add up if all you do is complain about a band, about a member in specific (usually Brian), saying that you can do everything a thousand times better, but saying that you still speak for the queen fandom after publicly announcing that you've basically left because "it's sooooooo super toxic in there guys you have no idea!", even though it's YOU creating that atmosphere, not anyone else.

This is probably the only place I can talk like this without getting ambushed by the people who disagree, but I just need to go on a little rant because I am so tired of certain people in this community acting like the things that the band do have to revolve around them and their preferences. I'm sick of these people pitting people against each other for different opinions on the new boxest.

I literally do not care that pitch correction was used on Freddie's voices, it, to me, literally sounds no different, just a lot clearer. I do not care that the drums are harsher, I do not care that I can hear the bass too much, I do not care that the guitars take over at the end (like they were intended to), and I do not care what other people think!

Okay, I'm gonna be honest here; there are people in this fandom that hate me. They've blocked me, restricted me, called me a manipulative liar and a horrible person for calling them out on their ugly and quite frankly demeaning behaviours - from sending an angry mob after Brian May, threatening to leave the fandom because 200 likes on instagram isn't enough for certain fandom artists, reposting art after it 'only' got 400 likes, and being willing to argue with every single person in every single commen section. Not to mention the parts of the fandom that lie about Freddie's sexuality and relationships, claim Brian and Freddie (or Brian and John) hated each other, start rumours about how homophobic/transphobic/abusive the members were, shittalking people in their own side of the community and then acting like an innocent victim that deserves nothing but joy is actually abhorrent.

Now I get that I'm biased, and I may come off condescending or rude or cocky but I'm sick of it - the amount of people in this community I've looked up to, treated like best friends or older siblings only to then find out the way they have actually truly pisses me off to no end. So I'm gonna call a little psa here:

If nothing the band do is good enough for you, if you complain about every video (okay we don't have to talk about TNCD vid, it was atrocious but that's a separate paragraph), every song, every piece of merch, every event, every concert date and every choice the band make, then you are not a fan!!

If you hate one of the band members, you're not a fan.

If you hate Adam Lambert, you're not a fan.

If you think Brian is Homophobic/Transphobic/Rasict, you're not a fan.

If you think Roger is an animal abuser, you're not a fan.

If you don't respect every members privacy and mental health, you're not a fan.

If you don't respect their spouses and children, you're not a fan.

And if you do not respect the band and the community that has risen you up and made you well known, you're not a fan.

I'm done with the entitlement that people in this community have, and I know this is out of nowhere and really harsh but I'm so sick of the way people thing it's okay to act. What happened to the sense of family in this community?

"Oh I saw Queen in the 80s blah blah, they're nothing now"

"Oh no Freddie and Mary were married he never loved Jim blah blah"

"Freddie's voice didn't need pitching, blah blah, they're erasing him"

"Yeah well [...] said this so he's a bad person blah blah (without the context)"

Just shut up. I'm sorry, I hate being so mouthy, and it's gotten me in trouble before, but I just needed to rant without boring the same person I always go to to complain about.

If you have to brag, lie, overshare, over promote and scream out to call yourself a fan, I'm sorry, but you're not.

[draconym]

Apparently this is a subject of discourse on Twitter now, but for the record, all the art I post here is free for personal/private use!

I do really appreciate that people ask before they use my work, because many artists clearly feel differently than I do, and I think asking is the best practice for engaging with art online. Creators do have the right to determine how their work is used. "All Rights Reserved" includes the right not to have your work redistributed, even online.

But in the case of the vast majority of art I make, I have zero problem with you doing General Personal Use things with it: saving it to your phone, making it your desktop background, posting it in the groupchat, adding it to your character sheet for your friend's D&D session, printing it out and putting it on your wall. I AM glad people ask me, if only because I can feel good about myself that someone likes my work that much, but there's literally no way for me to know if someone does any of these things, and it doesn't really affect me much if they do.

If you share my work publicly, such as making it your icon on tumblr/twitter/discord, posting it to Pinterest, putting it in a forum or on a webpage, etc, you must provide credit, which is as easy as linking to my website or one of my social media pages. Basically, if there's an instance in which strangers could stumble across my work and ask, "who made this? Can I use it, too? Does this person take commissions?" they should have a method of finding me and looking that up. Some artists don't want their work shared, even with credit. But I'm pretty small-time in the online art world, and I do appreciate the exposure. (Note: some websites have "we own the rights to anything posted here" clauses in their TOS! DON'T repost art to websites like that! Usually they will ask YOU if you own the rights to the art you're posting. If it's someone else's art, you don't.)

Things that are NOT personal use and which I would like people to stop doing to my art forever: editing or tracing it, reuploading it to print-on-demand sites and trying to sell it, tracing it and then attempting to sell the traced art, making it a graphic or a logo for a company or website, basically trying to make money off of it in any way ... hopefully you understand the difference, here! (I don't have a problem with someone tracing my art for their own entertainment or for practice, but don't repost it, please.)

Unless I've specified otherwise with a piece (e.g. it's too personal, it's a commission and the commissioner doesn't want it shared widely, etc), you can download it, you can share it with credit, you can do anything else personal with it.

[funkymbtifiction]

6 vs 9

Thank you for answering my question on Ni and worrying!

I have debated on 6 vs. 9 before, but I’m pretty sure I’m a 9.

Not sure if you want an answer or not, but why not? I’ve got time. ;)

I do see 6 aspects in myself:

Lots of self-doubt and over-thinking. I take commissions as an artist and usually I’m excited to hear about a new commission but then get worried and think I won’t be able to do it / won’t do a good enough job. <- if you are a 9, this could just be your line to 6 and general anxiousness about doing a good job per your (I assume) 1 wing.

Being indecisive when anxious and wanting someone to tell me what to do/solve my problem. <- Hmm, I haven’t talked to my 9 core friends about this a lot, but I do notice some of them consult me in a “this is happening!!!” way and I give them suggestions on what to do, so… I’d say 9s will consult people they trust if they don’t know what to do. Also, did you decide on INFP? If so, indecisiveness is Ne.

I tend to plan for the worst/expect the worst (but hope for the best). <- Pessimism is a human condition. xD

I don’t project, though - I do worry that people may not like me, but I don’t test them to find out if that is the case and I always blame myself for it (i.e if they don’t like me it must be because I’m boring or weird or not emotionally reactive enough). <- I used to do this way more when I was young. I’d send an e-mail, get anxious if I didn’t get a normal prompt response, comb back over what I said searching for anything that might have upset them, and feel anxious for no reason assuming someone is mad at me. I would send out little feelers to see what was going on – quick texts or notes in a friendly tone to see if that generated a response. Now I just assume, when that anxiousness kicks in, that as adults, we’re all busy. But self-blaming is a condition of Fi, and not related to Enneagram type, IMO.

Also, I don’t provoke people to examine reactions. In fact I hate conflict (the classic “raised voices = yelling” 9 issue is true for me; in 95% of arguments I’m the peacemaker trying to find middle ground between other people). <- with me, it depends. I have zero problems with conflict at home or arguing with my parents / family members, but the less I know you and the less I trust you, the more I don’t want to fight with you. It’s true, though, that I have that bratty 6w7 energy that sometimes provokes to get a rise out of my loved ones, which my mother (a 1w9) absolutely hates. It’s hard to shut off, but I try for her sake. Course my father is quarrelsome too, so we’re like a tempest in a teapot sometimes.

I also don’t see many positive 6 aspects in myself:

The ability/desire to build connections and make a security system. <- Interesting. My security is my bank account and having a few people I can count on. It’s not stalking up my pantry, for sure. *cough * weak Si, like what kinds of foods even go together? *cough* Though I work very hard in my family business so we can all thrive, which is a security of its own.

Being loyal to friends and checking in with them to make sure we’re “okay” (I never do this barring an actual argument or something - mostly I ghost people; loyalty is not my strong suit!) <- This is very true of me. If anyone picks on any of my friends, I will get offended and fiercely defend them (even if I have criticisms of them myself). And I do like to stay connected as an extrovert. But following up what I said above, I don’t try to build super close connections as much as I did when I was younger. I’ve realized people have their own lives, and you’re lucky to get their attention at all. But I don’t ghost people. I used to stay in very immediate contact with them.

I feel very little need to connect with other people. My friends are basically my family and in-laws -  about 10 people who I truly trust and would do anything for. I don’t really want more people-related responsibilities. <- lucky little sp-dom introvert. ;) Though I can somewhat relate. More people means more energy going out, and I spend so much of it on my books and hobbies, I don’t have a lot left over. I was laughing with a fellow sp-dom INFP just yesterday about how we are both like “OMG, I have SOCIAL events in October, 5 of them!! I’m going to be so busy!!! Will it be too much???” Chill, girl. They’re interspersed over weeks. Stop over-thinking “invasions of my time!”

Meanwhile, I have many positive and negative 9 attributes:

The core problem of 9, apathy, is a BIG problem for me. Many problems in my life have been caused by not acting, by waiting too long in hopes that the problem will go away, by riding along on easy work (even if it is work I love and is worth doing) and not doing the hard work that would lead to the achievements I really want to make (writing a novel, etc.). I’m not a lazy/apathetic person in general - I can (and do) work extremely hard (I run my own art business and working 12+ hours a day is typical for me). But it’s a mental apathy issue, the quailing at mentally facing hard tasks and ending up doing small easy things that soothe me. <- aww, tho I relate to procrastinating. Being around 9s, it kind of amuses me to watch you self-soothe. Like, shouldn’t you be studying for your math final and not reorganizing the bathroom cabinets? And it seems like 9s can drag their feet even when it’s important until they decide to do it, then nothing stands in their way.

Other 9 aspects/problems I can see in myself:

Being vague - not knowing what I really want and getting frustrated by not having a clear vision of what to do. <- yeah, that’s 9ish.

Suppressing anger and other “negative” emotions because of seeking inner peace/blankness. And if I do express anger (usually in a burst under stress) I feel guilty about it. <- 1 wing, yeah.

Setting up walls between other people and myself because I can’t deal with their emotions. I don’t struggle with the intense kind of “merging” described by many 9s, but I think that might be because I’m Fi-dom and probably sp-dom. But it is still exhausting to handle the emotions, opinions, etc. of many people for long periods of time. <- I need to ask my 9w8 INFP more about this specifically, but I don’t know that she fully merges so much as prematurely (sp-dom) throws up a barrier and says Nope to things, in hopes of avoiding other people creeping into her feelings. And yeah, she finds being around especially temperamental or high energy people difficult, since it’s such a bombardment of drama + her own intense reactions.

Tolerating behavior I don’t like for too long because “they might have good intentions.” Thinking positively of people because believing the worst of them feels mean. <- same for me, Ne + compliant type issues.

I have very strong opinions but I don’t like to argue with other people. I tend to believe that if the truth exists, other people will be drawn to it without my twisting their arm and making them see it. <- that’s nice of you and very healthy Fi-dom. I … will absolutely argue up to a point, then decide it’s not worth my time and pointless.

My motto (good and bad) is often “Let’s wait and see if things improve.” <- haha.

Also, although I do struggle with 6ish self-doubt, when it comes down to it I trust my gut and believe that I know what is best for myself. People can give me advice and I’ll nod and thank them but inside I’m thinking “You don’t know me!” In general I am (or at least appear and strive to be) a cheerful, emotionally stable, positive person. So… I still think 9 gets more points. But honestly, this is one of those things that makes me believe in tritypes because I relate a lot to both of them! Thank you for reading all of this!

Go with your gut. Be a happy little 9. :)

ETA: Regarding relating to them both -- of course you do, 6 is your stress line, so it will show up regularly. ;)

[marryat92]

Signalling her number

William John Huggins (1781-1845), A Frigate Signalling Her Number Off Ramsgate.

This painting is a current listing on the marine art auction market, brought to my attention by a person who regularly scours auction sites. I can't find any additional information on Bonhams besides the title, and the lifespan of the artist (so we know that this was made in 1845 or earlier).

She flies the Red Ensign, also known as the "Red Duster", of the British merchant navy. The flags at her foremast and mainmast are from Captain Marryat's Code of Signals.

First Distinguishing Pennant: this shows that she is signalling the number of a merchantman. Other distinguishing pennants or flags would be used to express places, bearings, or sentences from Marryat's code. @ussporcupine demonstrated how Marryat's flags were used to send messages in AMC's Franklin expedition TV series, 'The Terror'. Even Royal Navy ships would use Marryat's code—and a Franklin expedition officer posed with a copy of Marryat's signal book, which might explain why the TV series chose to employ it.

So the numerical flags in Huggins' painting are a merchant ship:

This is 4230 or 4239. The last flag is slightly obscured, and I have tried reading it as both a zero or a nine:

If it were a 9, the upper left corner would be blue, not yellow, which is not what the painting appears to show. If it was important enough for the ship's owner to commission this painting, you would think that the artist would take care to show the correct signal flags.

The earliest edition of Marryat's Code of Signals online is from 1847 (Google Books link), which is a potential problem. If this ship was wrecked soon after 1845 (or even earlier, since the painting is undated), the corresponding merchant ship number in the 1847 edition wouldn't be her. But it's the best reference I have, and I looked up merchant ships using the first distinguishing pennant (the second pennant was also used for merchant ships, but that's not ambiguous here):

General Brock? Like Sir Isaac Brock? (The indentation appears to function as a "ditto"). Conveniently on the same page, merchant ship 4239 is General Graham. The list of ships is from Lloyd's Register, a company which is still around today, and they have their historical records online.

The connection between Captain Marryat and his Code of Signals and the powerful Lloyd's Register is not an accidental one. Joseph Marryat Sr., Frederick Marryat's father, happened to be both a Member of Parliament and an important board member at Lloyd's, which didn't go unnoticed at the time the Code of Signals was first published in 1817:

Urged on by his father, Marryat devised his Code of Signals for merchant shipping, which could be employed in parallel with naval signals. It divided into six parts: the first two, lists of warships and merchantmen, each identified by a number; thirdly, signals representing named ports, headlands, channels and reefs; fourth, signals for sentences commonly used at sea; finally a section for vocabulary and another for the alphabet. Published in 1817, it was promoted by Joseph Marryat, through his influence at Lloyd’s, prompting the sour comment from one ship-owner that, ‘When it is considered that Captain Marryat is the son of the chairman of the Committee of Lloyd’s, I am sure the ship-owners and the public will do every justice to the very ingenuous manner in which it has been brought forward.’ But influence, or ‘interest’, as it was known in the Navy, was one of the principal driving-forces of society and was taken for granted. Once the new code had been accepted by Lloyd’s, all its insurance agents, every ship-owner, the master of every merchantman, every pilot, coastguard and excise officer and soon every warship had to have a copy. Its success, both practical and commercial, was assured.

— Tom Pocock, Captain Marryat: Seaman, Writer, and Adventurer (2000)

So far, my attempts to cross-reference this ship in Lloyd's Register have yielded confusing results. The 1847 edition, which should match up with the Code of Signals I used, doesn't have a General Brock or General Graham. But both names are in the 1830 edition.

Here General Brock is identified as a brig (Bg), which is a two-masted vessel and can't be the ship in the painting. s.C. means copper sheathed. General Graham is a ship (S), and the most likely candidate at this point. Both vessels are 'SDB' or single deck with beams.

[birklurks]

I’m kinda confused by your recent posts. I’m sorry if I missed something but are you planning to leave fandom entirely? This blog has been a great resource for fics. I understand if it’s just too much work and upkeep to be active because it’s hard to keep track of everything but I’m not sure what this commenting on fics debate is about. I understand literally what it’s about but I guess I just don’t understand why you’ve gone inactive as a result unless it’s just general frustration w the fandom

Hi there anon 👋🏻,

Why would I leave fandom?? I've gone inactive? Says who?? 😂

I'm on Tumblr just as much as I've ever been, and I've been reading fics as voraciously as I ever have (wait, that's not accurate - I'm actually ripping through more fanfics than ever because I'm not wasting minutes of my time here and there to leave written feedback for the stories I enjoy). I don't even bother clicking the kudos button anymore, it's great!!

It's not hard to "keep track of everything", not at all. It's been 1000000% fun fun fun fun fun fun fun consumption for me while putting in literally zero effort of any kind (I LOVE these kinds of "communities"!!)

As for the "commenting on fics debate": not sure what you're referring to, but as far as I'm concerned, since I've been wondrously reformed - there is no debate.

I admit that before September of this year, I used to think that the feelings and morale of our fanfic writers and fan artists actually mattered, because they are the ones doing all of the hard work and heavy lifting to create the content that makes fandom so much fun... and I spent the last four years listening to new writers and veteran writers across a broad range of ships and reading their countless demoralized pleas for written feedback, reblogs and other forms of substantive engagement from the masses who blindly and voraciously consume their work product for free. (I know, so stupid right?? 🤪)

I used to take their concerns to heart, and vowed to use my tiny little corner of our fandom sandbox to try and keep their concerns at the forefront, support their tireless work via kofi's, commissions and signal boosts, and do whatever I could to encourage silent readers in our fandom to leave our writers notes of gratitude and encouragement every once in a while if they enjoyed a story - something, anything, whether it was long or short, in whatever language they felt most comfortable with.

But, I finally learned that all of that was a massive waste of time and money because I was recently informed by a superior and virtuous individual here that I could take the concerns expressed by so many writers in our fandom "with a grain of salt", and that expecting the occasional reader engagement in any specific form (like written feedback, which costs zero money to offer and takes maybe a minute or two of a reader's time) is an improper form of "entitlement".

I mean.... WHAT A REVELATION. 😱

Since then, I realized I don't have to give a shit about the concerns of our fic writers who feel unseen, unappreciated and demoralized by the dire lack of substantive reader engagement in our fandom.

Fandom has taught me that nobody owes anyone anything, and if these whiners were "better" writers and "kinder", more "empathetic" people (like the virtuous author who generously took the time to "educate" me 😇), they would write solely for themselves and their own fulfillment instead of being gross and harassing innocent readers for the occasional crumb of feedback. 😡

I mean really, these writers are so entitled - HOW DARE THEY ask for basic common courtesies from people who enjoy their work product for free?!?!? 😤

Anyways, that's why I'm exclusively a silent reader now. And as I've been repeatedly lectured over the years, just because I'm a lurker doesn't mean I'm not "part of" fandom. If people can't read my mind and gauge my love and enthusiasm for fanworks through my radio silence, that's on them - not me. 

Obviously, they need to get with the program and learn telepathy for my convenience!! 😠

Hope this helps clear things up anon, happy thanksgiving!!🦃❤️

[avversiera-writes]

touch your heart [senju tobirama/you] - chapter 2

Summary: Hashirama might go down as the worst matchmaker in history, but he thinks he might be on to something. Tobirama sees through his brother's schemes and is determined not to fall for it. Or fall for you.

Word Count: about 4k

AO3 LINK TO TOUCH YOUR HEART

AOR SERIES LINK TO ‘TIL DEATH DO US PART

[<<<CHAPTER ONE]

The due dates that Tobirama gave you are more reasonable and flexible than you thought. You try to find something to complain about so you can relay it to Madara later and earn a small smile from him, but no, there is no reason to complain about it. The only thing you want to complain about are his so-called rules. Tobirama is not about leisure or lightening up, though that is not a bother to you if you are going to be honest. Planning to mess with him a little is just an attempt to wipe off that serious face of his. You want to know him based on what you see from him, not from what other people have told you.

However, you also do not want to mess things up. You are determined to work as hard as he does for this project because it is special to the village and for the children that are going to be attending the Academy. 

Also because you know you’ll get paid for it. You have been running low on money these days ever since you bought your own place. 

 Now that you are older, you wish you had the proper education to be a shinobi. You have to learn most of your skills along the way and apart from your family who had basically banished you, and even now, you are still learning as there are a lot of things that you missed. 

 Now, the children that are going to grow up here have something better for the future. They have more choices and bigger chances to become good shinobis. 

You get settled in your bed, which is literally the only furniture your place has. It is your dining table, your workplace, and also your resting place. Your weapons are littered on the floor, and your swords are leaning against the wall in one corner of the room. The books and the scrolls given to you lay open or stacked near your bed where you can reach for it. Some clean laundry you have yet to get to sit on the foot of your bed, and the space you are currently lying on is the only space your bed can make for you at the moment. 

 Quaint, but it has a lot of potential. 

Your new home, which is situated just at the edge of the village and newly built, is a home for civilians and also other shinobis who are not part of a clan, or those who rather have a place for themselves. This is a sign that the village is growing, and more and more families are becoming involved with it. 

You force yourself to go through the many materials that you need to read and study up on for the rest of the night until midnight, and you begin to write your suggestions after going through the material once again. You are good at absorbing information, but at the same time, you have trouble keeping still for a very long time. Sometimes you have the unfortunate ability to memorize the wrong things because your mind zeroes into whatever your brain wants to obsess over. 

 However, you have made it this far. You can adjust. 

You hope. 

//

You are pretty sure that Tobirama is sending you around the village in a goose chase just so that he can work on the curriculum himself. It’s obvious he did not want you near him with all those rules about preserving his boundaries. The said goose chase sounds reasonable enough–talk to the members of the clans, the ones who are the keeper of their knowledge and history and write them down. He did not even look you in the face when he sent you away, he just gave you a list of what to ask the clans residing in Konoha and a blank notebook and a scroll for you to record all of the information in. 

 This whole ordeal occupied you for the whole day and it also happens to bleed through the next day, in which you are convinced Tobirama has completed at least half the work. 

The thought does not make you happy. You want to do something, damn it. You feel like your life depends on it. 

Another day passes, and this time, Tobirama has you looking for artists, merchants, inventors and other skilled people in Konoha and recording their name and the location to find them. This part you understand well because you know that Hashirama wants to expand on other skills, but it feels so tedious and it makes the day longer. Not to mention, you do not really know anyone since you have been busy polishing your skills with Madara. Now that you think about it, you spend an awful lot of time with the man, ever since you came here. 

 Before you know it, you are breaking into a run towards the Hokage mansion. 

 Tobirama cannot be left to his own devices. You will not let him take this from you. 

You find the white-haired man seated on his usual spot, hand poised elegantly over a sheet of paper and eyes moving along the lines of a book he is reading. 

“Finished already?” Tobirama says in a very flat tone. 

 “Yeah, of course, I already know the people to put down.” Okay, that was a lie, and you know Tobirama had caught that because he glances at you briefly with narrowed eyes. 

You walk up to him and you lay out the information you gathered today. 

“Where’s your family from?” Tobirama straight up asks you without any preamble. The expression on his face does not change though you can feel that he is bothered by you. 

 You are taken aback by a beat, but you have no problem answering it. You have memorized the lines that you have to say that it begins to feel true. “They are a little far north from here, but they’re just traders, merchants, skillsmen.” 

 “Of what?” 

 “With the right amount of money, anything.” You say in an even, but casual tone. “They don’t like shinobi, so I left to make a living of my own.”

You can tell Tobirama did not like your answer. He puts his pen down and you feel him scrutinizing you. 

 "You have any friends?" He immediately follows up. 

 However, you have long mastered the skills of deflecting and only letting people know certain things about you. They always see what they want to see in you, never bothering to put two and two together that you are just painting a pretty picture for them to look at. 

 "Too many," you reply vaguely. 

 Tobirama sighs, and his eyes narrow. 

“I cannot trust you if you continue to evade me. This is integral to this village and its future, and I cannot have, no, I cannot afford to waste time or make mistakes,” Tobirama says and he meets your eyes. 

“I can promise you, I am ready to work just as much as you so let's not get personal,” you lean back and cross your arms. “And after this, I will get out of your hair forever. You wouldn’t even have to hear from me.” 

 Tobirama rolls his eyes, but you can tell he is satisfied with your answer. “Oh please, with a village this small, and me, holding an important position in the said village, you cannot guarantee that.” 

 You smirk and you pull out the chair across from him. “Touché, Lord Tobirama,” you emphasize the lord with a mocking tone. 

Tobirama grits his jaw visibly and he grabs his pen almost angrily. You are starting to think that maybe this is what Tobirama generally looks like. 

 “Get to work.” 

 “What is it this time? List the several types of drinks the people in this village make? Investigate the best type of fabric to wear for each season?” You prompt, unable to keep the grin from spreading across your lips. He just let you get away with calling him lord. 

 Adding a title to someone’s name is supposed to be a sign of respect, but the way you say it makes it sound derogatory. Like you’re cursing him. 

Tobirama looks about ready to yell, and part of you wants him to take the bait. You lean closer to gauge his reactions and you watch him immediately school his expression. It is like watching a magic show, one moment something is there, the next, it disappears. 

“Well, if you wanted me to make up more tasks for you to do, you should have just asked,” Tobirama deadpans. 

You watch him, intrigued. “Wow. Are you trying to be funny, or are you trying to insult me?” 

 “Please stop talking when I am working,” Tobirama does not sound like he is pleading. He hands you a stack of books to go through. “I want you to compile a list of necessary skills that you deem important, and I will do the same. We can discuss and vet on which skills are required to learn for each grade level right after.” 

You let out a breezy laugh, and you note how Tobirama seems to twitch at the sound. “Right, right, fine.” You pause. “Have you looked at my notes?”

“Of course I have,” Tobirama huffs and he shoots you a distasteful glare, and to you, it looks like he’s tired of talking. “I will make my own notes on where you’re lacking and then you revise it.” 

 “What do we need those for?” You ask, genuinely curious. “What else are we in charge of making?” 

“The reason I had you seek out artists, writers, bookmakers, and the like, is because we will commission them to make textbooks,” Tobirama explains. “We just need to get the information together. Meanwhile, I would also like to fill this library and another public library with other kinds of books.” 

You tap your chin. “Your brother tells me you like to invent things and all that. Are you going to include your research and your inventions in the library?” 

 Tobirama sighs, visibly withering at the statement that his brother talks behind his back, but he revives himself enough to get back to his work. “Depends on what my brother approves of.” 

You let out an involuntary chuckle. Here are the two most powerful known shinobis in the world right now, and they argue over mundane things. 

 Tobirama raises an eyebrow at you and you shake your head. 

He takes that as a sign to keep on working, so you decide to keep to yourself. 

 Surprisingly, you are starting to enjoy this. It’s not as bad as you imagined. 

//

Perhaps you spoke too soon, because here you are at the crack of dawn–no not even the crack of dawn because the surroundings are still dark blue. You yawn as you arrive, and find Tobirama waiting in the middle of the training ground in a different outfit you have not seen him in. He seems to only have one color palette; he wears a navy wrap-around jacket that has a collar in a lighter shade of blue. The sleeves are short, showing off his muscles, and all of this is tied with a light yellow-green belt around his waist. A sword is secured to his belt, and it hangs on his side ready to be drawn. A happuri guards his forehead and the sides of his face, and for some reason, this makes him look more authoritarian and older. A mesh armor peeks through the space between his collars and even in your sleepiness, you note a defined torso that you keep to yourself. 

You do not even see an ounce of sleepiness in him and you huff.  

 Tobirama merely glances at you, but every time he looks at you, it feels like he is already exasperated. 

 “Is it just us?” You try not to sound too whiny. “Also I ate breakfast, I’m not falling for whatever it is you have in mind.” 

 “And what do you think is on my mind?” 

 “I don’t know? A test of survival, starving us for days in the forest with only the surroundings as our resource?” You rest a hand on your two swords–an uchigatana and a wakizashi, both the same in appearance and made from the same metal. 

“I said not to eat too much breakfast, I did not discourage you from it.” Tobirama lets out a sarcastic sigh–something he can really pull off well. “I am not that cruel.” 

 You hear an excited gasp behind you and you turn to find Sarutobi Hiruzen and Shimura Danzo walking towards the two of you. 

“Tobirama-sensei!” Hiruzen calls enthusiastically, at the crack of dawn. “I hope you don’t mind, I brought my friend again!” 

You glance at Tobirama and you see his face visibly soften at the sight of his student. 

“And I didn’t know Y/N-sensei’s joining us!” Hiruzen bounds up to you and you reach up to ruffle his hair. He turns to you and points at Tobirama. “He’s a really cool sensei! Really cool!” 

Tobirama suddenly looks constipated and you laugh out loud. 

 “We’ll see, kiddo,” you tell him. “We’ll see.” 

Two more kids come, and the girl, Utatane Koharu, somehow looks pissed, which you can suddenly relate to. The boy beside her, Mitokado Homura, looks more calm and composed as he adjusts his glasses on his face. 

Tobirama nods, and then he breaks off into a light jog. Obediently, the kids follow after him and you grudgingly follow behind them. They must be used to this. 

 After a few rounds, the kids start to stretch and you do the same as well, and everything has been pretty calm. You watch as the kids do sets of push-ups, sit-ups, calisthenics and you are impressed at their stamina. They’re barely twelve, but then again, if you are training under Senju Tobirama, you can tell that you will be pushed to your limit. 

You feel a pang of envy from these kids for a moment, but you push it away. There is no reason to look back into the past and feel bitter about how things worked out. 

“So what’s next, sensei?” Hiruzen inquires. You can see how much these kids admire the man. 

 “Sparring,” Tobirama replies. “Since Danzo’s here, you guys are evenly matched. Last man standing gets to fight me.” 

 “What about Y/N-sensei?” Danzo interjects. 

 “Yeah, what about me?” You smirk, and you lighten your voice so that it sounds more childish. 

You can feel Koharu rolling her eyes. 

You narrow your eyes at him and let out a small stream of breath through your mouth. “I see.” 

 Tobirama slightly raises his chin haughtily. It suits him. He does not need to speak to dominate the atmosphere. He shrugs, and it sparks something in you. 

 “I’ll still try my best,” you smirk, but underneath your facade, you are starting to get annoyed. Which is new, because you are generally a patient person. 

Tobirama takes Hiruzen and Koharu while you take the other two to coach during their matches. You stand in between Danzo and Homura, watching their small faces study each other. 

“Don’t kill each other,” you advise, and you start their match. 

 The two go at each other, with Danzo throwing the first punch. You back off a little to make sure that you can see their stances. 

 Homura whirls around and his foot juts out, with his heel aiming towards Danzo’s head. Danzo ducks down, and kicks at Homura’s stomach the moment he regains his posture from the kick. 

Homura staggers back, and now he is on the defensive, blocking Danzo’s hits and kicks, barely dodging them as he keeps backing away. You notice the hits and misses from each boy.

 “Homura, don’t back away!” You yell out. “Get closer to him!” 

Homura does as you say, and Danzo is unable to land a hit on him, limiting his movements unless–

 Danzo jumps back to get away, and kicks Homura on the chest. 

 “Nice!” You cheer. 

 “Sensei, whose side are you on?” Homura complains and his hand comes up to rub his chest. 

You laugh. “Neither!” You glance at both of their faces. “Okay, you two, come here.” 

 Danzo and Homura face each other again. 

 “Save your movements, don’t be so generous with them,” you tell them. “Don’t punch just to punch. Again!” 

The two boys come at each other and you stand back to watch them again. This time, you do not offer any more suggestions. You glance to where Tobirama is at, and he is squatting on the ground, his eyes trained on the students’ footwork. 

 You hear him call out that Hiruzen’s feet are too far apart. 

You snap back to the two boys just in time to watch Homura flip Danzo on his back. 

You walk over and you peer at Danzo. “You okay?” 

 “Yes,” the boy wheezes out. 

“Alright, you’re done,” you chuckle and you look at Homura. “You win, then. Good job. Help him up.” 

You glance at the other group, and you see Koharu sock Hiruzen straight to his face and Tobirama jump up to his feet. Hiruzen gets to his feet, and you see a trickle of blood coming out of his nose. 

When Hiruzen gets closer, you ruffle his hair affectionately and you laugh as he grimaces. 

 “Not funny!” He whines nasally. 

 “Keep your hands up next time!” You taunt even though he may already know this. 

Tobirama puts a hand on his shoulder and steers him towards a rock so that he can sit. “Sit up and lean forward,” he tells his student. 

 The rest of the kids walk towards him to watch and poke fun at Hiruzen. 

 You stay back and cross your arms to watch them. You know that there is no place for you to be there. 

 Once Tobirama is finished attending to his student, he turns to you. “Koharu, you’re the referee.” 

You size him up, your eyes travelling from his face and down to his waist. What was one of his rules again? 

 Anticipation builds in your core, and your hand rests on the scabbard of your sword, your thumb playing at the hilt. 

“Are we including tricks today?” You inquire. 

 “If you want,” Tobirama curtly replies. 

Koharu starts the fight, and Tobirama wastes no time coming at you. 

 His first hit is heavy, and you block it with both of your forearms and brace yourself by stepping back one leg. You are quick to grab his wrist as you twist your arm and you step forward, meaning to put your leg behind his, but he breaks away from you and disturbs the momentum that you were going to use against him. 

 You are quick to back away because he comes at you without stopping. 

 He is fast, and he is heavy with his hands. You notice his open hands, ready for grappling. His stance is lower, and you know that it will be hard to knock him off balance, and the effects of kicking at his head will go to his advantage. 

You need an opening. 

 You launch yourself at him, and as he prepares himself to grab you, you drop to your knees and slide in between his legs, hitting his knee as you pass him by. He turns to your direction, and you quickly use his bent knee to step and kick towards his head. He blocks you and you see him almost grab at your ankle.

 You do not give him a chance to gather himself, and you swing again at him, this time using his shoulder to propel yourself around him and using his weight and yours, you are able to lock his head with your legs. Just as you are about to go for another twist to bring him to the ground, Tobirama counters by catching you and launching you off of him. 

 “You fight like an assassin,” Tobirama says as you roll to the ground and to your feet. 

“Are you impressed?” You grin at him, half jokingly. 

 Tobirama does not answer you, but it looks like he is about to say something worse as he charges at you. 

You step closer to him so that he does not follow through his movement, and you grab the hilt of his sword and then you strike your palm at his chest to send him back. You whirl around to brandish his sword in the air. 

 What was one of his rules? You suddenly remember.

  Do not touch my things, unless I give them to you. 

For a moment, everyone freezes. 

You study the blade in your hand. 

 “This is a very nice sword,” you muse, and you strike at the air and flip it, testing the weight. You run a finger on the blunt edge of his sword. “Well-balanced and thin, but very sharp. Excellent for accurate and fast hits...and conducting lightning.”

Tobirama’s face grows stormy. His fists tighten. 

 You twist blade with a slight twist of your wrist, and you hand it with the hilt towards him. “Sorry. I was curious.” 

Tobirama takes his sword and quickly sheathes it. You note a minuscule change in his expression, but it quickly passes and you are disappointed for not being quick enough to note it. 

“So, is this a tie?” Koharu asks, uncertain. 

“Yes,” Tobirama grits through his teeth. 

You watch Tobirama’s tense shoulders and decide to leave him alone. You probably went too far today. 

“Well, that was fun, but I have to go,” you say, even though the rest of your day is pretty much free. "I have some friends to meet." 

 Tobirama suspects that you certainly do not have any friends to meet, but he does not say anything more. He’s probably eager to make you go. There is nothing he would want more. 

“Aw!” Hiruzen cries out. His nose bleed has stopped. “Thanks for coming by, sensei!” 

You wink at the kids, and you make your exit, your hand still remembering the feel of Tobirama’s sword. It is oddly familiar, and you wonder if the craftsmanship is similar to your own blade. 

You can feel Tobirama’s stare behind you and it burns the back of your neck as if he is shooting laser beams at you, and just when you glance back to regard it, he is turning away and conversing with his students about hand seals. 

Though it was just a joke and a way to catch him by surprise, you can’t help but feel that you just stomped over the thin olive branch that he was handing out to you. 

You note to yourself to make it up to him tomorrow. 

.

.

.

[CHAPTER THREE >>>]

[fishoutofcamelot]

IT’S OFFICIAL! I’M MAKING A MERLIN-THEMED D&D CAMPAIGN!!! <3

Do you like Merlin? Do you like D&D? Do you like the idea of D&D but don’t know how it works? Then The Rising Sun campaign is just for you! (named after that one tavern in Camelot lmao)

CAMPAIGN PREMISE:

Jailbreak! The members of your party have been locked away in Camelot’s dungeons and must work together to bust out. But with a mysterious curse terrorizing the city, that might be easier said than done. Takes place during the three-year gap between seasons 4 and 5.

BASIC INFORMATION:

4-6 players, all at LVL3

Is this your first game? Your 50th game? All experience levels accepted!

Will feature monsters/characters/settings present in BBCM canon

The session will be recorded and posted to Youtube, so even people who don’t play can still join in on the fun!

Wanna chat about Merlin? (And D&D, but mostly Merlin) Join the Rising Sun Discord Server!!!

It’s a oneshot campaign, meaning there will only be one session

Submit your character sheet/s to me (email under the cut) by November 15th!

The exact length of the session will depend on player availability/preference, and how long it takes us to get through the campaign. But expect it to take around 2-4 hours

You can play as a canon character (like Mithian or Percival), or make an OC 

We will be running this through D&D5e (5th edition) as this is what I’m most familiar with. If you don’t know what that means, don’t worry about it!

Players must have access to Discord. Announcements, party talk, scheduling, etc. will be held on an exclusive channel through the Rising Sun Discord Server

WANT TO GET INVOLVED WITHOUT PLAYING?

Don’t worry, we’ve got something for everyone! I want this to be something everyone in the fandom can enjoy :)

The campaign will be recorded virtually and posted to Youtube in 30-minute parts/episodes, with captions available

Transcripts will also be posted to AO3

Join the Rising Sun Discord Server!

Don’t have a Discord account? Information about the campaign will also be posted to the Rising Sun Campaign tag on Tumblr

Feeling artsy? Feel free to post it! Any campaign-related art sent to me (through Discord, Tumblr, or Gmail) will likely be posted to my Tumblr blog and also feature in one of the episodes uploaded to Youtube, provided you give me permission to do so <3

Interested? More details under the cut! 

PROJECTED TIMELINE

November 1: Player Submission period opens

November 15: Player Submission period ends

November 20: Official player + character list announced

December 18-January 18: Campaign session held. The exact date/time will depend on the availability of party members, but this is just the time period in which it’s most likely to happen (it’s my winter break!)

January/February: Campaign “episodes” will be uploaded to Youtube on a weekly basis, with their respective transcripts posted to AO3. Official release schedule to be posted after the campaign has been recorded

SUBMISSION REQUIREMENTS

Submit to my email: ragicmobot@gmail.com

If you don’t know a lot about D&D and want me to teach you/help you make your character sheet, let me know through Tumblr! 

Submissions should include your: 

Tumblr URL and/or Discord ID

Time zone

Expected availability between Dec18-Jan18

Experience/comfort level with D&D

If you are willing to have your face shown in the recording

Character sheet/s

Any homebrew content you would like to use

You can submit more than one character sheet, but you can only play as one character, and only one character will be accepted into the campaign

If we get more than 6 submissions, players will be chosen based on their availability, friendliness, and how well I think their character will fit into the campaign/party

If you’re accepted as a player, I will let you know via Tumblr/Discord before posting the official player list to Tumblr. You will also be granted access to the Party-Only channel on the Rising Sun Discord server

You MUST be a member of this server, as crucial party discussions, announcements, and Zoom links will be shared there

Make sure to have everything submitted by November 15th!

GUIDELINES

My time zone is PST. Expect this to influence scheduling

If you aren’t comfortable having your face in the recording, you can turn your camera off! However, I will ask that you at least keep your mic on

The session will be held and recorded through Zoom. Make sure you have access to this program! 

Due to Zoom restrictions, a Zoom meeting can’t be any longer than 45 minutes. So the session will probably be broken up into 30-minute meetings, with 5-minute breaks in between each one. The Zoom link/s will be posted to the Party-only channel on the Rising Sun server. If I find a more efficient way of doing this, I will let you know

There will be a session zero, also on Zoom, about a week before we record the session. This is just a quick and casual opportunity for us to meet, work out any technical issues, address campaign expectations, talk about our characters, and get to know each other better <3

General courtesy and Zoom/D&D etiquettes apply. Don’t be a dick!

I might end up commissioning/having art done of the Player Characters (PCs). If you’re not okay with that, let me know!

CHARACTER CREATION

Put your character at LVL 3

Homebrew content is allowed, so long as you have me look it over first!

Use the D&D5e character sheet for character creation (if you need help accessing this I can send you an editable pdf, or help you find an online character sheet creator)

CANON CHARACTERS

Make sure all information on your character sheet is accurate to canon. Any deviations from canon (like giving Elyan magic, or making Percival a time-traveler) must be talked over with me first

Does their canon background have holes or unknowns? Fill them in yourself! Get creative <3

If this character doesn’t have a race available in D&D, like a sidhe, then you have two options. You can either homebrew their profile, or you can using an existing race profile that’s similar while clearly establishing what their real race is

When writing their backstory, try to think of how they would fit into the campaign. Why are they in the dungeons? Is Merlin suffering the aftermath of a magic reveal gone wrong? Did Gwaine get into a tavern brawl? Has George been framed for murder?

OCs

Be creative! Time travelers, shapeshifters, orcs - as long as you develop it well enough, I’ll probably allow it

If your character has a race/species that doesn’t exist in BBCM canon - like an elf or a dwarf - then provide backstory as to why their people are never seen or mentioned in the show. Did the dwarves go into hiding during the Purge? Is your character the first of their kind? Were they cursed into a non-human form?

In the event that we get someone to do art for the PCs, please make sure the physical description of your character is very clear and concise. Consider including reference art of some kind as well. This will hopefully make it easier for the artist/s to do their thing

When writing their backstory, try to think of how they would fit into the campaign. Why are they in the dungeons? Did they get caught trying to kill the king? Did their friend turn them in for sorcery? Did they steal something from the vaults?

This should be a chance for us all to goof off and have fun, so I’m not gonna be super strict on the rules. And if you have any questions, hit me up on Tumblr!! <3

[siren1song]

Can’t Get Enough

Summary: Janus, Roman, and Virgil are planning to go out, but Virgil is taking way too long for Roman’s liking.

Warnings: None that I know of

Pairing: Anaroceit

Word Count: 882

General Taglist: @acanvasofabillionsuns, @emo-disaster, @greenninjagal-blog, @jungle321jungle, @sleepy-sides, @gattonero17, @another-sandersidesblog, @strawberryjellystuff, @logic-with-a-pinch-of-deceit, @gr3ml1n-loser, @main-chive, @orca-iguana, @spooky-scary-virgil, @yalltookmyurlideas, @sanderssidesweirdo, @stormypaint, @just-a-little-bit-gay-oops, @dying-is-a-hobby, @rose-gold-roman, @the-angry-ship, @rosesisupposes, @just-perhaps

Notes: I wrote this for @firey-alex‘s birthday!! It was really cute and I know it’s not exactly traditional flower shop/tattoo parlor au, but I hope you enjoy it all the same! (Yes, I know your birthday is in three days. No I will not wait to post this.)

Commissions!! | Buy Me a Kofi!! | Join Casper’s Crew!! | Ao3 Link!!

“Virgil!”

“Shut it, Royal Pain in my Ass! I’m still getting my binder on!”

“You’re taking thirty minutes to put on your binder?”

Janus sighed quietly, watching as his boyfriend did his best to drape himself dramatically over the rail for the stairs while he whined for their third boyfriend to come down the stairs.

“It’s been like… Ten minutes, Ro,” Virgil said, finally making an appearance at the top of the stairs, rolling his eyes with a fond smile directed towards the pouting drama king.

“That is still way too long to get dressed, UV Light of my life.”

Well that was an interesting one. Janus gave Roman props for creativity instead of falling back on Black Knight again.

“Did you just call me a UV Light?” Virgil asked, grabbing a plaid button up from a doorknob and shaking it out as he began to descend the stairs.

Roman and Virgil continued to bicker, but as soon as Virgil reached the halfway point, Janus’ eyes zeroed in on his shoulder and it took him two seconds to recognize the flowers layered vibrantly under his skin.

“Love bite, what’s that?” Janus asked, speaking up to interrupt Roman’s next quip and draw everyone’s attention to Virgil’s left shoulder where a poppy and a magnolia resided.

“Vee!” Roman gasped, though instead of putting his hand to his chest in mock offense like Janus had expected, he took a step up.

“Roman I swear to God if my railing breaks-” Virgil started, though he was laughing as Roman attempted to manhandle him closer to get a closer look at the tattooed flowers.

“This is not my work! Where did you get these done, Cauldron of love? Is this why you haven’t been changing your shirts in front of us the last month?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at Roman, and Janus cleared his throat in an attempt to cover up a laugh.

“Roman, sweetheart, did you just admit to wanting to see my abs?” Virgil teased, his laughter flaring up again when Roman froze and then promptly let go of him to get his feet properly on the ground, instead of slotted between the railing to stand on one of the steps.

“I can’t help that your night hobby makes you eye candy, Virge,” Roman mumbled.

Janus cleared his throat again, then pulled himself off of Virgil’s couch so he could wrap his arms around Roman’s waist and place his chin on his shoulder, guiding the shorter man until they were able to face Virgil while he was on the first floor of the house with them.

“Roman is right, Love bite. You are very-” he punctuated the word with a quick once over of his boyfriend and a smirk, “pleasing to the eye.”

With Virgil’s face now red, the man huffed and turned away while he returned to putting on his usual purple plaid button up.

To avoid looking at them while he calmed down his own flusteredness no doubt.

“Okay, water bottles are in the fridge, you assholes, I’m not dealing with your thirstiness today,” Virgil said, swinging the shirt around his shoulders so he could slip his arms through the sleeve.

Janus and Roman watched him for a moment, watching the way the fabric hid well toned arms and the new tattoo of the flowers.

“Darling of the knight, did you pick those flowers for the colors or the meanings?” Roman asked, leaning back against Janus, who tightened his grip on the shorter man’s waist.

Virgil hummed, flipping the collar to lay flat and starting to roll up his sleeves while he thought, glancing at the two of them after a moment.

“More colors than meanings honestly, didn’t really feel like digging through flower meaning websites for something decent and no way was I gonna ask Janus when it was supposed to be a surprise.”

Janus couldn’t help the smile that spread along his face. He didn’t necessarily need to know flower meanings to own his flower shop. Flower arranging was more what looked pretty and worked well together, but he tended to familiarize himself anyway.

“Ah, and that’s why you risked another artist’s work. I suppose I can forgive you then, and you got lucky in this sense anyway, they’re very well done- wait.”

Virgil froze, looking at Roman who was scrutinizing him.

Janus wondered if their prince noticed the smile Virgil was fighting back or not.

“You did not!” Roman protested, pulling at Janus’ arms to try and get out of his grasp.

There was a pause, Virgil’s grin broke free in a silent admission of the “treachery” that was going to Remus’ own tattoo parlor, and Janus held tighter for just a moment.

“I suggest running love, I don’t think he’ll stop until he “punishes” you with kisses,” he warned, earning a blown kiss from Virgil before he bolted towards the front door and Roman finally got free.

Janus sighed, feeling his heart swell as he thought back on how when they’d met Virgil the man was facepainting a small child and make jokes to keep her smiling while he wouldn’t give them the time of day.

Oh how far they’ve come. Janus hoped “how far” would stretch into the rest of their lives. It would certainly make living worthwhile.

[fandom-blackhole]

Hi!! Wanted to try for a ship slot if they're still open!! I go by she/her and I'm looking for a male ship, preferably one of the clones, but anyone prequels works!!

I'm 20 (okay w spice!) and tiny!! Very Smol!! Only 5'2 and that's reaching?? Personality-wise I'm usually very shy until I get to know who I'm with!! Mainly due to being autistic and hyper-aware of awkwardness ;-;. BUT. Once I know someone I'm extremely talkative and love to get to ramble about things or listen to my friends ramble!! I'm very creative (going to art school to become a concept artist), and love to make things with or for my friends (and I also draw clones a lot. My art blog is,,, so full). I'm known for being very logical, but with zip-zero common sense, so can come off odd?? I'm also mostly oblivious to things going on around me unless explicitly told, especially when I comes to romantic advances. Additionally, I'm passionate about helping others how I can! I'm an optimist with a dose of realism. I want the world to be a better place, but also know it'll take work to get there!! OH. And with friends, count on me to be the (healthy) hype man or the therapist friend!!

On more stuff about me, I'm not only tiny, but curvy! A good hugger and just enough squish to make it even better? Sometimes get self conscious but generally okay w myself!! Also I LOVE pink as of late. Got really into dressing more feminine over quarantine, due to issues I had (VERY blonde + called condescending a lot = fear of being seen as dumb or the Mean Bitch if I wore that stuff :P ). I'm also HUGE into my Rusyn (group near russia/ukraine) heritage, but also learning Mando'a and Mandalorian culture!!

AS FOR WHO TO SHIP YOU WITH. GOOD QUESTION. Admittedly because of your pfp I'd say Paz?? But also?? For some reason?? I feel like you'd also go great with Appo from the 501st!!

Thank you again for running this and for opening these slots. I love your writing and I can't wait to see what your make, even if it's not mine!! <3

First off I want to say that I am completely shocked that you of all people follow me here on tumblr! I absolutely LOVE your art and how you draw the clones and just everything you draw in general! I have followed you on Intsagram for a little while now and your art never fails to put a smile on my face! And I hope that in the future when I have the money and your commissions are open that I can get some of your art to call my own!

Now, for your ship, I debated back and forth for a minute but I think you’d be good with Commander Wolffe!

  Okay, so hear me out on this one. The way I see it is tough macho man with soft cute girl who softens his heart kind of ship. When he first meets you Wolffe thinks you are cute but he never imagines that he is going to fall for you, but he does, and hard. As the two of you spend more time together for one reason or another and you start moving past your shy exterior and become more comfortable and talkative around Wolffe he finds that he actually likes when you fill the silence that he usually likes to keep, and even finds himself joining in on conversations with you, something he rarely does with anyone past Boost, Sinker, or General Plo. Wolffe likes your logical side and will often ask your opinion on things that he just needs a little more input on, and to be honest he thinks your lack of common sense is kind of cute. Wolffe once caught you sitting down with one of his men just letting them unload on you as you listened to their issues and problems and that's when he knew he was absolutely screwed when it came to you, even though he would never really do anything about it, that is without a push. And that push comes in the form of Dad of the year, General Plo Koon, who pulls Wolffe into a meeting because he has been watching Wolffe dance around his feelings for far too long. He gives Woffle a small bouquet of flowers and tells him to ask you on a walk or something small for a date, and Wolffe finally buckles and does just that. Once the two of you are together opens up to you even more and even talks to you about how traumatic it was for him to lose his eye. Wolffe absolutely adores your art and one day he shyly shows up at your home when he is on leave with different paints and asks, while refusing to make eye contact, if you would like to add a small design to his chest plate so that a part of you could be with him where ever he goes.

Paz is always a good answer pfp or not, I just love him and want more canon content with him lol

And Appo!!! I love this ship! It is one I definitely haven’t gotten before, but I will take it! Appo needs more recognition and love!

Request a Ship (6/20)

[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.) 

[franeridart]

Anon said: Not an ask, but I frickin love your art style! 👌

Ah heck, thank you so much!!!! <3

Anon said: I refuse to use Emojis but You. Do. Not. Need. To. Apologize. For. Taking. Breaks! We are not entitled to you and you are not required to provide art for us! These are stressful times, and even outside of these times, taking breaks from social medias is completely acceptable.

Thank you for the kind feeling!!! But it’s fine, I’m not beating myself up over it or anything, just apologizing for my habit of going on breaks without letting anyone know beforehand haha

Anon said: your outfit ideas are amazing ! do you have a source of insperation?

Thank you!!! I do a lot of people watching, and that’s about it tbh! I do look at fashion photos and magazines and, like, clothes displays in stores? when I happen across them, but most of my inspo when it comes to outfits starts from me watching people and liking how they’re dressed - in that sense I like watching vlogs and stuff like that too, people these days are so stylish...

Anon said: I really love your lineart and coloring style!! Would you mind sharing your brush settings? Or some art tips? If you don't want too this okay too, keep up the good work !!

Since my brush settings are a reward for my $6+ patreons, I don’t really feel like it’d be fair to share them! But you can probably find some old version of them in my art tips tag :D as for art tips... for lineart the only thing I can really say is to not overthink it and just go with the flow, whatever feels comfortable for you will make for the most visually pleasing lineart too, in my experience! Coloring is something I’m constantly experimenting with as well, but there too my usual mindset is “the easier and faster the better” - generally, I just use flats and then add shadows on them with any color that goes from light blue to pink-ish purple on a layer set on multiply, anything that makes it look fancier than that is just me adding small details like sparkles or shines or anything of the like!

Anon said: GUESS. WHOS. GETTING. OLD!!! me. It’s me.

Everyone is! Constantly! It’s how the passing of times works, terribly enough

Anon said: hi!!! as someone who really admires you as an artist, has very little experience in art and would /really/ like to get better at it, i'd like to ask you: how did you get so good at it? (apart from constant practice, of course, i realize how important that is!) this is coming from someone who really has no idea where to start! what was your starting point, and are there any tips you can give a complete beginner like me?

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm the thing is that drawing a lot really is all there is to it, but if I had to give one single serious tip for this it would be to find something you really really really really enjoy drawing and to just draw it - draw it badly if that’s the only way you know how to draw it, but make sure to always draw it while having fun, and slowly you’ll get better without even realizing you are. If you like a ship, draw that ship! If you like plants, draw plants! If you like animals, draw animals! It’s okay if you don’t know how to draw it, or if you feel like your skills aren’t good enough for what you mean to draw, because honestly I felt like that when I started too, and I still feel like that every time I pick up my pen, and I’m sure I’ll forever feel like that for as long as I’ll draw - my ideas will always be bigger than my skills, and maybe so will yours! So what’s it matter if you start drawing stuff beyond your skill level now or later? At least you’ll be having fun with it, and the only way to learn how to do something new is to go and do it, anyway

Anon said: hi! do you do commissions?

I don’t, sorry! Thank you for being interested, though!

Anon said: Hi there! So I'm rereading Quote Love Unquote (a classic for sure) and had the urge to go find the art you had made for it. And oops, like, two hours have gone by of me just scrolling through all of your older comics and art. I love it all SO MUCH. Your artstyle is just so damn enjoyable and all of your comics never fail to make me smile. I'm always looking forward to whatever you choose to make in the future regardless of fandom. Thank you for being awesome!!

God that’s such a nice thing to hear, thank you so much!!!!!! ( TT-TT)<3

Anon said: I made an ask before (u answered it dw) but u thought I was saying u missed my first one. U didnt! I was saying it made me so happy that u responded you’re an angel! Ily v much!!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh that’s good then!! that’s very very good!!!!!! ily too!!!! <3<3

Anon said: How can one's art be soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo good?

Thank youuuuuuuu ;;;;;;;;;; I do!!! my best!! ( ;u;)9

Anon said: You like tododeku?

Yup!

Anon said: Zero grafity kisses are the opposite of the spiderman kiss

How so? :O

Anon said: Hi! This is seriously out of nowhere but I wanted to tell you I reread your Bokuto-Kuroo-Terushima tattoo au strip all the time because it's just so delightful and seriously cute. Polyfidelity is the kind of poly my partner and I practice and I don't see it played out too much, so to see a relationship like that with characters I love and an art style I adore fills me with such warm fuzzies. It's so so lovely. Have a great day!

I’m so damn glad to hear that!!!! In that sense that comic still means a lot to me, so I’m happy to hear it means something to you too!!

Anon said: Friendly reminder that I fucking love you.

I love you too anon!!!!!!!!!

Anon said: Ma lo sai che sei sempre più brava?

aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!! (TTATT) grazie mille!!!!!!!!!

Anon said: Hi um did you know that 🤰🏻🤱🏻 this lady had her kid?????? wtf i didnt know

I can’t even see the emojis from desktop lmao but good for her!!! 

Anon said: hot take: jirou, momo, kami, and shinsou in a poly relationship.

You know what anon, you’re incredibly valid and I respect you

Anon said: I just absolutely love your art! Whenever I see it, it makes my day! Your Kiribaku stuff gives me life! Keep making beautiful art, and stay safe during this time!

Gosh, thank you!! You stay safe too, anon!!!!

Anon said: HOW do you draw cloths

You keep in mind that gravity is a thing and let your hand do kind of whatever while hoping no one will notice you have no clue what you’re doing!! (...seriously tho I never studied these things I just do whatever feels like and hope for the best hahaha any experienced artist looking at my stuff is probably wondering what the heck it is that I’m trying to do...)

Anon said: Your style is so amazing and distinctive. Everytime I see it I’m like OH ITS THEMMMM and get super stoked

That’s so cool to hear!!!!!!! I genuinely have no clue what makes my art mine, but I like knowing people can recognize it anyway! It’s such a neat thing!!!

Anon said: Were you the person who did those "stopping an angry...." posts? Am I remembering this wrong? If that was you, where could I find those?

Are you talking about my bakuboys comic? If so then it’s in my bakuboys tag! :D

Anon said: Hey, you’ve seemed kind of tired and sad lately. I’m not going to ask you if you’re okay because you’re probably not, but I wanted to say I really do hope you feel better soon!

!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you so much ;;;; I’m doing my best!