#maybe i should do some outfits doodles today

[mothiepixie]

Painting motti in clothing not black or purple is altering my brain chemistry...

[mooodyblue]

Lillyyyyy I just had an Idea, so what if when Elvis is filming his 68 comeback special he has to take the reader who is little with him and the colonel doesn’t like one bit of it so when Elvis is filming some back Tom Parker goes to his dressing room to pick on the reader and he says hurtful things to her like “you’re nothing but a gold digger” and other mean things to where she goes nonverbal and when Ep comes back into his dressing room he just sees the colonel picking with her hair ripping her drawing up and knocking everything she had over he even witnessed what the colonel told her. Ep barges in and starts yelling at the colonel and tells him to stay away from us but the colonel rolls his eyes and puts up an argument saying things like “she is distracting you! Can’t you see that, putting up this act. She’s acting like a full on baby.” You can finish the rest ❤️

ty for the request! this was super fun to write. i love writing anything that involves making the colonel out to be the most annoying man to ever exist 😈

pairing: 60s!elvis x little!gn!reader

wc: 1.5k

-> masterlist

you watched as elvis adjusted himself in his dressing room, dressed in black leather with his hair done up nicely. you knew how important this day was for him. he was beaming with nervousness and excitement and of course, you were as well. maybe too excited as you had gone down right before it was time to leave for nbc studios.

he didn’t mind if you were little, it didn’t bother him at all. you always understood that elvis has a job to do and that he can’t play with you every single second of the day—especially today of all days. 

but again, you were so excited for him. you loved watching him get dressed in all the different outfits, performing his heart out just like he should have been doing all these years. today he’d be filming in front of an audience which you knew he was horrified about, thankfully the cuteness he had to endure from a little you helped ease his mind off his stress and anxieties. 

he buttoned up his jacket, giving you a soft smile as he watched you doodle in a little notebook with your crayons, a messy bow in your hair from his attempt at doing your hair earlier that morning. elvis crouched down at the table, looking down at the notebook. “you're so talented, honey.” he grinned. “you gonna draw somethin’ for me for when i get out? a nice lil’ reward for daddy's hard work?” he teased, pinching your cheek as you let out a soft squeal. 

you nodded excitedly, “mhm!” you grinned. “‘m gonna draw daddy!” 

he let out a gasp, “really!” he placed a kiss onto your scalp, ruffling your hair a bit before standing up. “you make me look real good, baby. alright? i wanna see it when i finish up here.” 

“okay, daddy!” you nodded, “good luck!” 

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

you kept to yourself, music booming from outside his dressing room. you hummed and rocked to his voice as you continued to draw, making sure your drawing of elvis was as perfect as he hoped for. 

the faint sound of a door opening and closing filled your ears, followed up with the tapping of a cane. you lifted your head, looking at the larger and older man in front of you. 

now, you were well aware of how his manager strongly disapproved of you. but elvis never cared, it was his personal life–not the colonel's. he did make you nervous though, he didn't understand you being an age regressor. he didnt understand why you felt the need to act like a toddler, being helpless at your big age. 

you gulped looking up at him, watching how he hovered over you and looked at the array of crayons, markers and at the little gear you had around you. elvis brought along your sippy cup and a paci, as well as a few coloring books and toys to keep you entertained until he finished up with filming for the day.

“look at all this junk, this garbage.” the colonel spat, pointing at the table with his cane. 

you sat there silently, trying to keep your mouth shut just like elvis told you. you held your head down, going back to your drawing. 

he wasn't having it, scoffing at you and shaking his head. “you're a grown person, wearing bows in your hair and coloring like a toddler.” he shook his head. “you're dating elvis presley and this is what you choose to do in your free time?” 

“he still loves me.” you muttered. 

his cane met with your drawing, creating a circular stain of dirt right in the middle of the paper. “you're nothin’ but a gold diggin’ freak who acts like a baby to get what they want. now i demand you get up from this floor and go out there and support the man you supposedly love.” he said sternly. 

you looked up at him, tears in your eyes. he ruined your pretty drawing for elvis. if he wanted you out in the audience so badly, he would have asked. but he didn't, you were staying out of his way just as he wished. you certainly weren't a gold digger either. you didn't ask elvis to buy you nice things, it's just what he did. he didn't know what no meant, he did it out of the kindness of his heart and his love for you. 

words were formed in your brain to spit back at the old man in front of you, but nothing could come out. you had an ashamed look on your face, glancing down at the now-ruined drawing that sat on the table. 

“are you listening?” he asked, stomping his cane again. “get up!” 

you shook your head and stayed in your spot, refusing to get up for the colonel. but enough was enough for him, he ripped out the pretty bow that elvis had put in your hair just for you and stuck his cane under your arm, trying to force you up. that alone stood you up, cheeks now stained with tears as he picked up your drawing, ripping it in half in front of your very own eyes. 

outside the dressing room, there were loud cheers—the music finally coming to an end. maybe that meant elvis was coming back. 

foot steps were approaching, the sound of leather rubbing as he walked and laughter got closer and closer–finally coming to a halt once the door was opened. there stood elvis, turning his head to look at the scene in front of him. 

he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, his face turned red with anger. “now, what in the goddamn hell are you doin’?!” he shouted, storming in and pushing his manager away. “you putin’ your hands on my baby? or am i just imagining things, huh?” 

the colonel stumbled back, scoffing again and shaking his head. “this child of yours has been nothing but a distraction!” he argued. “they’re doing nothing for you except sitting back here playing with toys all while you do the hard work. can’t you see you’re being used?”

“the hell i am!” he yelled, “what i do with them and what they do in their own time ain’t nobodies business but mine and theirs. not you.” he pointed his finger angrily at parker, his eyes full of anger and fury. 

“mr. presley, i will not stand here and watch them put on such an embarassing act for you. they’re acting like a baby! can’t you see the problem here?” 

“oh, i can see a problem alright.” elvis spat, putting his hands on his hips. he turned his head to you, looking at the sad look on your face. his heart broke seeing what that awful manager of his did to you, your hair ruined and the drawing he was so excited to see now torn apart on the floor. he walked over to you, rubbing your back as the colonel stood there still disgusted by the look of you. 

“you alright, baby?” he cooed, trying to calm you down. “what did that mean man do to my baby, hm?” you didn’t respond, instead burying your face in his neck as you let out a soft whine. he could tell when you couldn’t speak. one of your ways of dealing with stressful situations, especially when they happen so sudden, was to become unable to speak. he never pressured you to say a single word if you didn’t want to.

however, it angered him that you were bullied to the point of going nonverbal. he wasn’t going to stand for that. the pretty little face he saw before heading on stage looked so broken, he wanted that version of you back. 

he stepped up to his manager, getting right in his face. “i ain’t afraid of you.” he said lowly. “you stay the hell away from them. if i see you lay even a finger on them, you’ll pay. i’ll make sure of it.” he took a deep breath, looking back at you then at him. “get the hell out of my dressin’ room.”

it was clear he wanted to argue more, but he left with a scowl on his face—making his way out of the dressing room and slamming the door behind him. 

elvis sighed, turning to look at you before pulling you in for a hug. you sobbed on his shoulder, holding him tightly and never wanting to let go. “i know, baby.” he rubbed at your back again, cooing softly in your ear. “i’m sorry, honey. i’m so sorry.” he pulled away, pressing his lips against your forehead with a soft smile. “lets see that lil’ picture you drew for me.”

your eyes darted to the ripped-up drawing on the floor, a pout on your face as he walked over to pick it up. “nah, we can save it!” 

he put the ripped-up pieces together in front of his face, grinning widely. “see! look at that. you’re so talented, baby!” it was just a mere drawing of a stick figure, a poor attempt at drawing a white suit on white paper on the said figure. but in his eyes, it was the best thing he had ever seen.

[emelinstriker]

Nezha ♡ A Special Stranger Pt.2

Art drawn by me- I also got more Special Stranger Nezha doodles. c:

> Example

More pre-relationship fluff! MORE!!1!

If peeps like this one, I might do a part 3 cuz I got an idea that even made one of my friends go ":O OMG THAT'S SO CUTE"

♡ Part 1 | ♡ Part 2 | ♡ Part 3

♡ ~ Fluff ~ ♡

"It would be so much more comfortable if I just went around town in my armor", the Lotus Prince complained as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt, seemingly trying to stretch it out to make it longer. He didn't particularly enjoy how it was designed to stop barely halfway down his midsection. The celestial proceeded to place his cap back on his head to complete the outfit. Meanwhile, Wukong adjusted some sunglasses on his nose.

"Chill out, Nezha. You and I both know that it's best if we don't reveal ourselves. Besides, who knows? Maybe your new look will be even more eye candy for them~", the now 'disguised' Monkey King hinted as he wiggled his eyebrows at the celestial. Who, in response, blushed in embarrassment and angrily looked away. The monkey laughed in return.

The Lotus Prince groaned as he dragged one hand down his face in frustration. Why, out of all the beings that could help him find you again, did destiny give him Sun Wukong as assistant. He personally would've even preferred the Demon Bull King's son as search partner. At least he wouldn't be teasing him over every little thing that could start a relationship with you. The fact that Wukong's 'disguise' was literally just a hoodie with a sunglasses didn't make him feel any more at ease.

Not only that, but he now felt bound to this mission of finding you. Of course, he should be actively protecting the Celestial Realm and its items right about now. But on the other hand... If the Monkey King did find you with his cap, then proceed to tease him more behind his back in front of you... He would never hear the end of it.

Speaking of the literal demon, the Monkey King lead him around the streets of Megapolis, sniffing the air occasionally. Nezha raised an eyebrow at his behavior, "Wukong, what are you doing?"

"Trying to pick up their scent. I was able to faintly smell it around the café we walked past earlier. They most likely were here today, so we're getting closer", the hooded simian responded casually.

"...How do you have their scent?"

"The hat they gave you, dum-dum. It still has their scent on it with how long it must've been rotting away in their bag." He then turned back around and proceeded to sniff the air again, but this time Nezha noticed his tail flicking upward. He glanced over at a nearby building, then turned back around to face his friend with a proud smirk. "How about we split up. You'll check the library over there and I'll check the other store. Good luck!" And with that, the Monkey King jogged into the store next to the building he glanced at previously. Once again leaving the Lotus Prince behind to his own thoughts. Nezha blinked in confusion, baffled at the monkey's sudden change of plans. 'Rude', he thought.

Though, splitting up could also serve as a benefit for him to calm his nerves and think about what do say if he did find you. Honestly, he did find you endearing, but he didn't even think about having you as potential romantic partner until Wukong pointed out the synergy you two could have. If he had run into you a second time on accident without ever speaking to Wukong, then he would've only viewed you as potential friend. But now he couldn't remove the thought from his brain and couldn't stop his imagination from running wild. The disguised Prince huffed at Wukong's sudden disappearance, but decided to follow his suggestion and entered the library with his hands in his vest's pockets. As expected, he couldn't spot anything or anyone out of the ordinary. Why would Sun Wukong insist on looking for you in a library.

To be honest, looking for you in here would be pointless. Instead he decided to browse through the bookshelves for anything that might pique his interest. Even if it was just to get a mental break from the search. He wasn't a fan of many books, so finding one he would genuinely enjoy might prove itself as difficult. However, that's when he spotted the Ancient Myths Section. Also known as the library's corner with a bunch of tales about past and present deities, ancient evils, mystical relics, legends, most feared demons, and more. Now here is where he might find something interesting.

And find something he did. In fact, he did already somewhat expect to see himself featured in one of the books he was skimming through. His pages were filled with old depictions of how people roughly remembered his looks whenever he showed up in the Mortal Realm. Besides some mistakes in the detailing, the artist(s) got his past and present looks down pretty accurately. Even his biography was correct for the most part.

"Excuse me, are you done reading that book?"

He froze.

That... familiar voice.

Slowly turning around, he came face-to-face with you. The human him and his companion were looking for. Apparently you were just as surprised as he was, judging by your eyes widening once you recognized his face.

"Wait... Nezha??"

"(Y/N)- Wh- Uh... What brings you here?" He laughed nervously at how awkward this encounter started, practically slamming the book he was holding shut.

You placed one hand on your hip while your other hand was holding onto a different book by your side. "I could ask you the same thing- I didn't know you live in Megapolis too!"

"Well I, uh, don't live here actually... But I do come to the city from time to time to visit friends." That wasn't exactly a lie. Though, by 'from time to time to visit friends', he actually meant 'whenever Sun Wukong is pulling potentially dangerous stunts'. But you didn't need to know that. "And I just felt like looking through the books here today. The... friend I was with kind of, sort of, left to somewhere else without me."

You gave him a relieved smile, "At least that means you're not a stalker. I was already starting to worry!"

"Haha, yeah!" He laughed nervously. Now that he thought about it, him and Wukong actively looking for you with the monkey sniffing the air to find you did give off stalker vibes.

Eyeing his arguably handsome appearance, you noticed the cap that still read '(Y/N)'s Special Stranger' on his head. "Oh! I honestly didn't think you would keep the cap."

"Like you said, it's a souvenir... a memory. And I don't like getting rid of memories", he stated proudly at your flattered expression as he lowered the front of his cap, trying to hide his own faint blush.

You hummed, glancing at the book he was holding. "Anyway, my question still stands. Are you done reading? I noticed you were skimming through 'Celestial Warriors'. And I just finished reading through the previous volume." Holding up your book, you raised an eyebrow at him.

Nezha shook his head, "You can read it. I was merely looking at the pictures." He then handed you the book. However, after comparing the cover art of the two books you were now holding, you held out the book you were previously reading.

"If you want, you can look through the one I just finished reading. It's mainly about ancient relics from the Celestial Realm, but it also features celestial architectures and divine structures found in the Mortal Realm", you suggested.

The disguised Lotus Prince gave you a surprised look before accepting the offer. Looking at the cover art, he noted that it did feature parts of the Celestial Realm's layout, as well as where certain relics seemed to be located. Either a human managed to actually go there and drew those or a fellow celestial being told humans about the most obvious parts of the layout. Perhaps the celestial even drew it themselves. "Ah, thank you."

You then were reminded of something. "Oh, yeah! Before I forget again! Something I didn't even think about when we first met was your name-"

Nezha's expression suddenly became nervous once more.

"Your parents really must be into the history of the Celestial Realm too. I knew your name was familiar somehow, but I didn't even recognize it as the name of the Third Lotus Prince until I got home! It must be amazing sharing the same name as a god." You commented sheepishly, scratching your cheek. He would most certainly be fucked if he told you how he actually was the god you were talking about. Thus, he decided to play along.

"...Yeah, I guess... Though, I'm also grateful for my name. It already puts fear and respect onto others before I even need to bring justice", he replied. You looked at him in confusion before your eyes widened.

You gasped, "Oh right! You're a guard!" He huffed with a small smile, feeling flattered that you remembered. "What are you guarding actually? If I'm, well, allowed to ask... that is."

He glanced down at the book featuring various ancient relics and buildings found within the Celestial Realm. Nezha averted his gaze towards some humans sittings at a nearby table, avoiding eye contact with you. "It's confidential. I'm sorry."

You waved your free hand dismissively. "Oh no, I should be the one apologizing for asking."

"But you were simply asking", he retorted, now holding a firm gaze on your own eyes.

"Yes, but it's something you're not allowed to answer."

"That still doesn't warrant an apology from you."

"Neither does you doing your job and keeping it a secret per contract."

...

Small laughter broke out between the two of you at the intensity of this 'argument'.

You gave him a wholehearted smile. "Well, do you want to go sit somewhere? We got tables around the library, otherwise we could also chill outside. Just so we don't have to stand the entire time."

"I'd say let's stay inside", the disguised Lotus Prince responded. Mainly due to the fact that Sun Wukong was still out there and would most definitely intervene, making things a lot more awkward than they need to be. You lead him over to an unoccupied table, placing your book in front of you as you two sat down.

Almost an hour of talking passed by when you decided that it was time to part ways once more. However, instead of a souvenir, you handed him a folded pieces of paper with your number instead.

"Feel free to hit me up whenever. Work tends to get so boring that I usually text people", you confessed with a sheepish smile. Nezha was surprised, to say the least. He now had an official way to contact you.

He hummed in amusement, "Talking to others while working? Unbelievable." You snorted at the irony. If he actually was as busy as he claimed to be, he would not even consider adding your number.

"Hope I get to talk to you again, my dear special stranger... I guess we're not exactly strangers anymore, huh", you commented as you stood up from your seat, clutching your book close to your chest. "Do I have to start referring to you as special acquaintance?"

He crossed his arms as he leaned back into his seat with a grin. "I'd rather be seen as special friend."

Rolling your eyes with your own little smile, you started turning away from him while waving. "See you another time then, my dear special friend." You then let out a quiet laugh before leaving to put your book away. Nezha didn't say anything and instead opted to simply waving back while smiling. He may not have been able to see himself, but a certain someone did see his lovestruck gaze lingering on your exiting form.

Once you were out of sight, he suddenly felt a strong presence sit down next to him. Turning to his side, he immediately glared when he noticed the colors of Sun Wukong's hoodie. "So", the Monkey King started as he munched on a peach. If it was a normal one was up for debate, and that only annoyed Nezha even more. "How wash youw dade?"

"That was not a date, Sun Wukong. You set us up", the Lotus Prince hissed out quietly as to not disturb the mortals around him.

"Aha." He took another bite. "Youw conwershashion 'nd genewaw chemishty shays oderwise, bud." He swallowed the piece and sighed. "Also, I didn't set you up, we were trying to look for them anyway. I just helped the mood by removing myself from the situation~"

Nezha's glare only hardened at the disrespect Wukong brought in as usual by simply eating a snack. "...You're not allowed to eat in a library", he commented, to which the simian shrugged. Instead of putting the peach away, he decided to practically swallow it whole in one bite. His friend gave him a look that was a mix of him feeling offended and disturbed, but he eventually put his hands in his pockets and stood up. "While I do appreciate your help, I believe I already used up enough of my time. Now I shall return to my duties. I'll try to get in contact with them later."

"Actually, I saw them hand you a note. Did they already give you their address?" Wukong asked, leaning his head back onto the chair with his eyes closed.

The Lotus Prince looked down at the neatly folded paper between his fingers. "No, of course not. Though, they did give me their number-" He froze at the realization. "Wait- I don't have a phone- How am I supposed to... Fuck, I didn't think this through..." His voice got suddenly really quiet towards the end as he cursed under his breath.

The monkey picked up on it however and whistled, opening one eye to look at the prince, smirking. "Wow, I haven't heard you curse in a long while. Guess making this all go as smoothly as possible actually matters to you, huh~?" There goes his teasing again. Grumbling to himself in annoyance, Nezha returned his own book and made his way out of the library. And as expected, Wukong followed close by.

"Ahem. You know, I can ask my successor for help to get you a phone. And all I'm asking for is a favor for later", the Monkey King grinned as both of them arrived at a rather unpopulated area. The Lotus Prince turned to him with an unamused expression.

"I refuse to hand out favors regarding you getting a free ticket to steal from the Celestial Realm."

"Ouch, you wound me. Do you really think that low of me over what I would use the favor for?

"Yes. Very much so."

"Aw, c'mon Nezha! We can talk about this! ...Why are you going faster- Wh- Hey! Wait up!"

And thus, their return to the Celestial Realm was filled with a lot of whining and a lot of 'No's.

However, a compromise was eventually made.

> Masterlist <

[upismediacenter]

LITERARY: Youthtube

*click* *Subtitles/CC turned on*

Host: Hi guys! Welcome back to my channel! It’s 2023 and for the past few years, we have lived with the COVID-19 pandemic. We couldn’t help but reminisce about our childhood when our lives were easy and simple. Today, I’m joined by a friend to look back on our childhood nostalgia!

Friend: Hi everyone! I’m excited to be a part of today’s video! My friend and I will be showing a couple of things that will dig up some old memories. Try not to become sentimental hahaha.

Host: Oh, I'm sure you'll get emotional. Maybe I will too.

Friend: I bet you’ll even tear up a bit.

Host: I won’t! So, without further ado, let’s get started!

Host: When we were kids, we loved toys! Didn’t you? We have toys that we pay more attention to, than others. Mine were Bratz and Barbie dolls. There were different kinds that came in different looks and outfits.

Each day was another day, another slay for these dolls. We also did roleplay one way or another, right? Perhaps with dollhouses or toy kitchens? I bet you wanted a mini kitchen with a sink or a toy cash register that made beeping noises! They went perfectly with some props we found lying around. One example was our use of baby powder and leaves or flower petals that we would cut into pieces to look like food. As for me, I would go to Youtube and follow a tutorial on how to make my miniature props. It was so much fun!

Friend: So that’s where you got your creativity.

Host: You’re absolutely right! You know me too well.

Friend: Of course, I do! On the other hand, action figures like Transformers, Gundam, and superheroes like Spiderman and Hulk, were my thing! Almost every character had a mini version of themselves as action figures. I think action figures are so popular because they allow us to picture ourselves as our favorite characters while we play.

Host: I remember the way you’d beg me to play Hulk and you as Spiderman.

Friend: And I would always beat you hahaha.

Host: You’d always beat me because I didn’t know a thing about superheroes, neither was I interested in them! Anyway, some toys were made for battle like Bakugan and Beyblade. You can buy arenas to play them on, but most kids would just play them on the ground.

Friend: I envy those kids who had arenas. They got to feel the whole experience! Playing them on the ground was still a lot of fun, but the Beyblades didn’t always collide! It also took ages to find it if you didn’t see where it went. To this day, I wish I had an arena.

Host: Awww, poor you! Bawi nalang next life hehehe.

Friend: Please don’t make fun of my childhood hardships… :(

Host: :o

Friend: I’m just kidding! Anyway, last but not the least, the toys that challenged our creativity as kids like Play-Doh, erasable doodle boards, and Lego bricks.

Host: The possibilities are endless with these types of toys! Did you have that set where you can make different foods out of Play-Doh? Or maybe those Lego kits where you can build different types of structures?

Friend: Oh, I remember that I used to have a Lego kit for creating a gas station! However, I was unable to finish it because I lost some of the parts…

Host: This is why, my dear viewers, you should always be organized with your things! Moving on…

Host: Games were a huge part of our childhood. There were video, outdoor, and board games. Let’s first start with video games. Back then, there were several game websites on the internet like Y8.com and Friv.com. I know you were also on these websites all day! They provided us with numerous games that we sometimes play on our own or with friends in multiplayer mode. Papa’s Burgeria, Fireboy and Watergirl, Bartender: The Right Mix, and Cooking Mama, were some games that I bet you played too. If you know, you know.

Friend: I remember those games! And how you didn’t want to play with me. :(

Host: Well, I had homework to do, ever heard of that?

Friend: Haha, very funny.

Host: Anyhow, if we didn’t have internet, we would play games on the Game Boy, PlayStation Portable or PSP, and many more consoles. We would beg our parents to buy us disks of the games we were interested in.

Friend: Oh, the lengths we’d go to just to get them to buy us the stuff we want! I was willing to do anything— even the chores that weren’t mine, just for that Pokemon disk.

Host: I know right??? And some games we played on Game Boy including what you just mentioned, Pokemon and Super Mario. While Tekken and The Sims can be played on the PSP.

Friend: But if we couldn’t play on the computer or the video game consoles, we'd instead play on our family tablet, iPad, or even our parents' phone. Some of my favorite games here were Plants vs. Zombies, Angry Birds, Temple Run, Fruit Ninja, and Flappy Bird! I was so addicted to these games that my parents had to hide the gadgets from me!

Host: And that’s a perfect example of why you shouldn’t play too many games, kids! But when we get tired of the screen or we get frustrated because we keep losing our games, we would go and play outdoor games instead. Some of the most popular ones were hopscotch, tag, and hide-and-seek. I remember that time we played tag and someone pushed you a little too hard. You cried like a baby!

Friend: Of course, I cried! It hurt so much! Maybe 10 times more than the time I had to get my flu shots!

Host: Just admit that you’re a crybaby.

Friend: No, I’m not! Anyway, as Filipino kids, we also enjoyed traditional games like Luksong baka, Ice ice water, and Chinese garter. We used to play these with our neighbors or with our classmates during break or after school. Hey, remember that time you tripped on a rock while playing Ice Ice Water? You should’ve seen your face! I swear, it was the same face you made when you found out that Taylor Swift and Harry Styles broke up!

Host: Maybe it was because you were the first person I saw after tripping. You were so ugly, I almost wanted to cry hahaha! Crazy to think I still carry the scars I got from all those games!

Friend: I think our scars are a great reminder of our childhoods. It brought back memories of the time we had spent as kids playing with our friends! As long as we were having fun while playing, it didn't matter whether we got hurt. Despite the amount of times we cried, at the end of the day each scar was just a happy little accident!

Host: I 100% agree with you! And regardless, if we’re not in the mood to play the games that we mentioned, we would play board games. Some popular 2000s board games were Monopoly, Jenga, Snakes and Ladders, and Dominoes. I would always beat my friend in these games. I guess I’m the brainier of the two of us!

Friend: Hey, that’s not true. To all the viewers out there, please do not believe what this person is saying. Let’s just move on to the next…

Friend: Our last nostalgia for today is cartoons. Back when we were kids, we would start our day by watching cartoons, and we would even end the day the same way. If you had TV cables like Sky or Cignal, there were specific channels just for cartoons.

Host: If you didn’t have cable, you would just watch what was being shown on your TV channels, even though some were dubbed.

Friend: The only downside of watching cartoons on TV channels is you have to wait for the cartoon show to come up! Some are on the TV only in the morning or every other day. Unlike in TV cables, channels like Cartoon Network, Disney, and Nickelodeon show cartoons almost 24/7!

Host: So true! Also, I don't know if it was just me but as a kid, I didn’t pay much attention to the dialogue in cartoons, I didn’t even take the time to understand what the characters were saying. Were you also like that?

Friend: I knew I wasn’t the only one!

Host: Right??? Still, just watching it somehow gave us an idea of the story or what it is about. As long as we found the animation satisfying and the cartoon funny or cool, it was an instant favorite. Some of my favorites were The Powerpuff Girls, Courage the Cowardly Dog, The Fairly OddParents, and The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy.

Friend: My personal favorites were Looney Tunes, Jimmy Neutron, and Chowder. I really enjoyed it when classes would get canceled and I would spend the rest of my day watching cartoons. I was living the life!

Host: We were living life!

Friend: And we still are!

Host: These were just some of the things from our childhood that I hope will remind us of our innocent and carefree days. Reflecting on our memories is a good thing, but doing so with a friend is much better. We shared moments of laughter, craziness, and tears, as well as giving and receiving support from them. What's stopping us from doing the same with them now if we've done it before?

Friend: When we are feeling down, it is always helpful to reflect on our memories. It brings us comfort and motivates us to be kind to ourselves, that we once had this beautiful innocence. It can help us achieve the dreams we once thought were impossible to reach, no matter how silly they may be.

Host: So that’s it for today’s video! If you like this video, you can give it a like and then comment down below your childhood nostalgia.

Friend: If you want more videos like this, don’t forget to click the subscribe button down below and the notification bell so you would get notified every time my friend posts a new video.

Host and friend: Thank you so much!

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary392

10/18-19/24

friday - saturday

listened to cryptograms by deerhunter, today

at the recommendation of a friend, i really love this song in particular:

though the whole record was rather good, very spaced out, lotsa droney songs on it, more ambient than i expected, bradford cox is good at those textures though. today i also walked to the grocery store, the wind was so annoying, my head hurts because of it probably now, and being tired, but i'll be less hungry/have more to eat... lots of yogurt in the house now at least. some oatmeal too. then some junk. that's not all...bread too, peanut butter... i wanna kinda just fry the bread w/ butter how you do w/ grilled cheeses and make stuff from that... not stuff, just, if i need sugar, maybe find the cinnamon and make a cinnamon + sugar mix and put that on the bread when i finish cooking it. because we have no toaster anymore. because the bugs got in it.

not a lot else today, kind of tired honestly, which is good, it's 2:30 am on the dot, i ought to sleep #now. but i did some stuff today, oh and i need to collect the selfies i liked. that first. here:

i love the clip on bowtie a lot. it says "horseshoe" after a casino... i can't tell if it's the old horseshoe or the other one called that. #stupid. felt very cute in that outfit, i really really like it, the belt goes with the bowtie, in a cute way, as well. it also feels very suited to me, like a mess of stuff almost.

okay, stuff from today, i drew, i also did a little song but it's just a loop... kind of just messing about with weird ideas. but here's the first drawing:

that's marina!! and rher, and perkele in the top right. i liked the idea of having rher be behind her because obv he's important to the game but also, he's sort of central to prehevil which is where she is from, and he's also this manipulate force, or his traces are all that lingers, he's sort of in this unrecognizable state, or his powers are not what they ought to be, and she can recognize that. perhaps it would have been best to put characters behind her who are more clearly related? not sure. also, i think this is maybe the first piece of fanart i've ever created??? i don't know. very rarely do i do things like this. i'd like to do more related to fear and hunger...

here's the other drawing:

this was simply something i started doodling, and it turned to this. i like it, it is very disorienting to look at, i'm very happy w/ that gingham pattern back there. it maybe does more heavy lifting for the image than its actual content.

i'm thinking about posting the marina drawing tomorrow with tags or something, but i'm also not sure about what the point would be. whatever... i'll probably wake up and do it anyways.

now though, i should sleep, i do feel much better than i did yesterday, also,

so,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[jellybeandrawsthings]

☹️hi i dont usually do this thing where i ask for art/thoughts on things but ive had a super bad day and i was just curious as to what your take on your wounded-on-krypton Kara would be doing with Lena if she hadn't of come out as Supergirl but they still met and fell in love- would Kara just be floating around Lena's apartment during quarantine listening to Lena read books and making her gf tea's and flying out to get her her supplies so Lena would stay safe from getting sick? I really love your art.

aww, I'm sorry u had a bad day, I made a little doodle and tried writing a little story for it as well that should answear your queastion about my scarred!Kara and her relationship with Lena if she didn’t became Supergirl (tho I'm not a writer, so its quality might not be the best)  hopefully it will make u feel even just a little bit better

The first time she met Lena, Kara was going to L-Corp to get a prosthetic replacement from their new Cybernetic Futures program since she kind of destroyed her old one.

Okay, she definitely destroyed her old one, but to be fair, who knew kicking a cement boulder with a prosthetic leg made from human metals but with the force of an angry and very frustrated superpowered being would destroy said metal leg. Really, who could've predicted that?

Walking into the building with warm coffee in hand proved to be more difficult than Kara hoped, her busted prosthetic making her wobble every two steps since she didn't have a spare she could wear - this was the spare - and the slippery tiled floor didn't help. Making her way to the elevator she kept glancing down focusing on her steps, this meant she didn't notice when a woman absorbed in her phone walked straight into her path. On instinct, she relaxed her body as to not harm the human she collided with, unfortunately, that meant she lost her barely-there, to begin with, balance and was sent sprawling onto the floor and her coffee splashing straight at the woman's shirt. Perfect. Just what she needed today.

She had an apology already forming on her lips when she looked up and for the first time noticed the woman, no, the goddess she bumped into. Her hair was black, but when it caught the light it shone deep chestnut brown and cascading down her back, her skin was pale and looked so soft Kara found herself wanting to touch it, her fingers twitching at her sides. The woman's eyes were green, though her right eye seemed to be two shades lighter, more gray than green. She wasn't looking at her currently occupied with taking in the state of her clothes. And Rao, her clothes. The outfit was that of a businesswoman, high heels ready to kill, dark burgundy slacks with a matching suit jacket, loose black tie, and a white shirt. A white shirt that was now covered in Kara's coffee. Oh no. She needed to fix this, like, immediately. The best place to start is with an apology, right?

———————

Lena was having a pretty normal day, all things considered. She should have known her days are never normal. She woke up early, ate a small breakfast, and went to work. There she had meetings with investors from 8 to 11, some paperwork to sign, a small meeting with the head of R&D at 12, and now she finally had enough time to take a break and maybe grab some lunch. With a certain sandwich place in mind, she made her way down to the ground floor and, while answering some last-minute e-mail made her way to the exit of the building.

Before she could even make it halfway to the wide double door, she felt something surprisingly solid and at the same time very wobbly bump into her, and then a sudden warmth and wetness on her chest. Looking down at herself confirmed what she already suspected, someone, spilled coffee on her. Thankfully it was only warm and not scalding hot the last thing she needed right now was dealing with coffee-induced burns. Making sure her shirt was the only thing damaged in the incident, Lena paid no mind to the person who bumped into her, that is until a very apologetic voice started talking to her. From the floor. Looking away from her ruined shirt, she took in the person frantically trying to apologize for spilling coffee on her, at least that's what she thinks the woman was trying to do, seeing as at his point she was rambling a mile a minute.

The woman on the floor looked young, probably around the same age as Lena herself, she had blond wavy hair gathered in a messy ponytail and hidden behind cute square-framed glasses, the bluest eyes she has ever seen. There was a burn scar covering most of the left side of her face and neck and more peeking out from under her shirt. Her left leg ended right below the knee, and the prosthetic she was wearing looked like someone put it under an industrial press and then tried to put it back into shape with a hammer. She was wearing blue sneakers, jean shorts, and a yellow tank top with tiny rainbow dinosaurs on it that gave her an unobscured view of the rippling muscles in her arms as she gesticulated wildly still rambling out something resembling an apology.

Taking it all in Lena came to one conclusion. She's cute. And so with warm coffee drying on her chest and a beautiful woman at her feet, really what else was there for Lena to do other than ask the blonde out on a date.

———————

They moved in together after a year of dating. Alex asked if they were sure, but there wasn't a doubt in their minds that this was what they wanted. It felt right. And they were glad for this decision since a few months later, they and most of the world's population were confined to their homes.

Days in quarantine were spent working from home on their laptops with their legs entwined together and sharing a blanket out of the view of the cameras. When they weren't working they were finding new ways to entertain themselves. Slowly making their way through the classics of fantasy and sci-fi literature, with Kara floating them above the couch and Lena laying on top of her chest reading aloud from her Kindle was how they were spending most of the evenings. During the weekends when there was less work, Lena tried to teach Kara how to bake - with mixed results - and Kara made it her mission to recreate as many childhood experiences Lena missed out on living with the Luthors as possible. Her blanket fort wasn't the most structurally sound, but it sure was cozy. Movie nights were a nightly routine, and cooking dinner together became the most sacred daily ritual neither of them dared or wanted to skip. Weekly game nights through zoom were initiated almost immediately after lockdown and to no one's surprise, Lena and Alex's competitiveness did not lessen with the development of not being in the same room. If anything it became worse. Bets about how long will it take for the two of them to start fighting and accusing each other of cheating were as much a tradition as game nights itself. Most days though were spent working and lounging together with Kara occasionally flying out to pick up supplies they needed. And when one day Kara flew through the balcony with two cats and a dog saying there wasn't enough space in shelters, who was Lena to refuse those cute puppy eyes (it didn't hurt that the dog and cats were adorable as well).

[sondepoch]

HC: They see MC’s sketchbook!

Art. It’s a private thing. Showing someone your work is akin to showing them a piece of your soul, an insight into who you are and everything that lies within. So when the Obey Me! boys get a glimpse of your sketchbook, they find themselves wanting for more—and all in different ways.

Word Count: 6.0k

*Mild NSFW themes for Asmo & Diavolo

Characters: All Brothers + All Undateables + Luke

MASTERLIST

Lucifer

At the beginning of the year, there is 0 trust between the two of you

Not only has he actively tried to kill you, but he’s already so suspicious of the pacts you’re making with his brothers that he can’t help but be wary every time you cross paths

So when he realizes that you’re always absentmindedly scribbling in a notepad every time you interact, he’s more than a little perturbed by it

100% thinks you’re secretly taking notes on his and his brothers’ behavior to use it against them

So, obviously, when he next sees you using it in his presence, he wastes no time in snatching the notebook from your hands

“Oh hey, Lucif—what are you doing?!”

“Nothing you should be concerned with, human.”

“That’s my sketchbook you’re holding!”

“Sketchbook?”

Instantly flips it open and sure enough, inside there’s nothing but doodles and sketches

luci.is.confuzzled.exe

He’s still convinced that there must be something incriminating in the book, so he continues flipping through it. But the more he sees, the more he realizes how wrong he is

It’s only when he flips to the section with his family that he begins to feel guilty

In the beginning, you just draw basic poses. Mammon, glancing at you over his shoulder. Asmo, posing for a camera. Beel, about to bite down on a hamburger. 

But the further he goes, the more elaborate the sketches get, and as he flips through the pages, he can feel the amount of work that has gone into each piece

And then he gets to the page where you drew him

Keep it lowkey, but he thinks his heart stopped for a second

He stares at the picture and wonders if that’s what you see every time he shifts into his demon form, because for the first time since his fall, he can’t help but think about how beautiful he looks. Everything looks so right in your art style, from the diamond on his forehead to the way his wings flutter out of his back.

It’s perfection

“I’m confiscating this,” He says quickly, not looking you in the eye.

He then escapes the room faster than you’ve ever seen, and never speaks of the incident again to you

But roughly a week later, you find a small red book on your pillow, and you know that it's a sketchbook from him, to replace the one he took

And even later—after the two of you grow close—you find your old sketchbook stored in his most secure drawer, locked away with a key he keeps hidden. And you know that he’s spent hours looking through the book on rough nights, through the doodles of him and his brothers and everything else you’ve ever drawn

And though he’s too proud to admit it, you know he loves your art 

Mammon

He found it when he was going through your stuff, absentmindedly checking to see if you had any valuables on you

And the moment he flipped open to see your little notebook of doodles, his mind went B I N G O 

He loves your art the second he sees it, spending a whole hour just sitting on your bedroom floor, flipping through the pages

Adores everything about your art style

And when he starts to see the little doodles you do of his brothers, he’s even more enraptured

You draw all the things he’s imagined but never seen: a sketch of Lucifer dressed in a onesie, snuggling a giant teddy bear. Beel, using a sleeping Belphie as a food tray for a pile of snacks as large as the sixth-born himself. Asmo with cat ears, being chased by Solomon, who appears to be a wolf.

And yet, there are no pictures of Mammon

Man is hurt by the fact that you’ve drawn all his brothers but not him. He’s your first man, after all. You should have been the first person he drew!

Gets a bit upset about it and throws your sketchbook back into the drawer he found it in, stomping back to his room with childlike indignation

Is just a bit petty about it afterward

“Hey, Mammon, can you walk me to school? Class starts in half an hour.”

“Huh? Oh, so now ya want me to do it, huh? Well, why don’t you ask Asmo instead?”

“Okay? I will???”

Soon everyone in the house has realized that Mammon’s being a bit off, and while it was nice at first to have peace and quiet from the resident troublemaker, you guys grow concerned pretty quick

And eventually, you go to his room to talk things out

Let’s just say that when you found out he’d been going through your stuff, you were not pleased. But seeing that he wasn’t going to be the mature one, you sucked it up and whacked the demon on the back of his head, telling him to “wait a second” while you went to “get something”

Cue the retrieval of your second sketchbook 

And when Mammon sees it, he’s not sure what he feels more of: guilt or happiness

Every single page in this second notebook is of him. Only a few are colored, but Mammon finds himself enraptured by even the casual doodles in the corners, where he’s doing little things like eating a banana or flashing the viewer a few Grimm

Man is touched. He’s never had anyone do this for him, and certainly not out of their own volition. So suffice it to say that when he tackled you for a hug that night, he didn’t let you go for a long time

And maybe some other stuff happened too. Who knows? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Leviathan

TSL

The second Levi sees you sketching in your artbook (after an incoherent stumble of words which you assume are synonymous with praise), the only phrase coming out of this man’s mouth is TSL

Begins begging you to draw fanart of the Shadow Lord, asking you to sketch him in different outfits, draw him in different poses, put him in various backgrounds, etc.

Basically wants you to bring his imagination to life

“Oh! Oh! Can you draw him baking a cake now? Wouldn’t that be so cool?!”

Absolutely does the wwooooooOOOOOAAAHAHHHHHHH sound effect every single time you show him your work, even if you’ve only made minor changes from the last time you showed him

He takes you on a spending spree, pulling up Akuzon and offering to pay for whatever supplies you want if you’ll just make him a super fancy poster

And so you start

It actually gets to be a pretty good way to grow closer: every day, after school, you head up to Levi’s room to work on the poster he asked you to make him. In exchange, he lets you borrow his manga and you guys watch anime together

Eventually, boi gets the idea of throwing Ruri-chan into the poster, and the second he thinks it he won’t shut up about it

“Oh, come on! You can do it—look, just put her in this little corner right here!”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Levi?! Ruri-chan and the Shadow Lord are two completely different characters who are meant to be drawn in completely different art styles! If I mush Ruri-chan into the corner, it’ll ruin the poster’s dynamic!”

“But pleeeeeaaaassseeeee?”

Cue extra pouty Levi

Eventually, you agree to make a separate drawing of Ruri-chan for Levi to hang up next to the poster, because you think that otherwise, he’ll go crazy

When the date rolls around where you’re almost done with everything, Levi formally sends out an invitation to everyone of importance

Man invites everyone from Luke to Diavolo over for the “revealing ceremony” where he plans to hang the poster on his wall

Actually tried to get the demon king to come as well, but Lucifer stopped him before he could get an invitation out

When everyone sees what you’ve been working on for so many weeks, they’re all MEGA impressed because hello??? they did not know you were this skilled???

It quickly turns into a competition, with each one of them trying to outdo each other with how vigorously they can compliment you

And soon enough you find yourself swamped with requests from every other demon in the room, begging you to make them something as elaborate as you did Levi

Satan

It’s a system you guys have set up, where every Tuesday and Thursday night, you’ll sit in the common room on the couch facing each other and will simply open your books to do what you will

You always draw, and Satan always reads

And neither will bother the other until the grandfather clock chimes twelve times, whereupon you both bid each other goodnight and wait for the next session where you do it all over

Except for today, that is

“What are you drawing?” 

Ah, there it is

The one question you were hoping Satan would never ask

You subtly (incredibly awkwardly) change the subject, commenting on the color of Satan’s jacket to distract him from his inquiry, and he picks up on the hint, quietly huffing as he turns back to his book 

But the mild irritation he feels doesn’t let him fully delve back into the realm of the nonfiction novel he was reading, so he’s more than a little distracted as he goes back to reading about human anthropology

And it’s in this state of distraction that he notices the little glances you’re stealing every so often, before returning to your sketchpad

Yeah, it doesn’t take long for Satan to put two and two together

“Are you drawing me?”

An incredulous question, asked in such an offending tone

He sounds so irate by the fact that you can’t help but helplessly deny it, muttering something about drawing plants and flowers instead

But Satan doesn’t believe it, and in an instant he’s standing behind you, staring at the sketch in your hands which has oh-so-beautifully captured the essence of him on the couch, engrossed in a book with the light from the flames in the fireplace flickering gently against his skin

The anger at being drawn without having agreed to it quickly melts into a quiet awe for your skill

“Can I see your other drawings?” He asks gently, no longer irritated but actually impressed

“I-I’m not sure if you’ll want to—”

“Nonsense. Show me.”

And so you do

You hand him the sketchbook, avoiding his eyes as he flips to the very first page—and imagine his surprise when he sees that even that is a sketch of his face, though the artwork is significantly less advanced than the piece he just saw. Satan flips to the next page, and then the next, and the next, and sure enough: they’re all of him

“I-I just needed a model to practice my artwork on,” You mumble, gaze fixated on the couch. “And you were right there, so I couldn’t resist...and then I needed a model again. And again. And you were always there, and I know I never asked, but I’m sorry, and if you don’t want me to, I won’t—“

“Nonsense,” Satan murmurs, pressing a finger to your lips. His smile has never looked as sincere as it looks now, his gaze flickering back and forth between your face and the sketchbook in his hands

“I’ll be your model, if you so desire it. Just tell me how you want me to sit.”

Asmodeus

Your model for everything

You’re trying to draw the Hulk and you a good frame of reference? And you need a really muscular model? And Beel ABSOLUTELY fits the bill? 

Yeah no, Asmo’s your model

You want to draw a child? Someone small and short, roughly the exact same height as Luke (who is an ANGEL and would absolutely help you)? Yeah no, Asmo’s still going to be your model.

Want a cute guy? Asmo. Cute girl? Asmo. Cute animal? Still Asmo.

Man refuses to leave you alone - the second he learns that you’re an artist he insists on gracing your work with the holy sight of his body

Highkey wants to model nude

And you’d be lying if you said that he was a bad model—man can hold a pose for hours without moving even a little, his only fault is that he talks incessantly—but you can easily quiet him by saying that you’re drawing his lips - and the moment you do so, he’s suddenly he’s stiller than a statue,  doing his absolute best to remain frozen so that you can capture his perfection

Boi posts 100% of your content on his Devilgram, and while you were hesitant about it at first, now you’re just used to it

Thanks to him, you’re a lowkey celebrity

Like demons love your art style 

It’s apparently very refreshing and human-like as compared to the dark and dreary art found in the Devildom, so people go wild over Asmo’s Devilgram page for it

Man thinks that they’d go even more wild if you drew something where he modeled nude

In fact, it’s lowkey a business deal that the two of you have - you allow Asmo to post your work on his Devilgram (giving credit to you, of course), and in exchange he pays for all your art supplies, acts as your model (though that’s really more of him wanting to than it being your choice), and even goes as far as to keep Mammon apart from you while you work, insisting that you need “privacy” and “quiet” while you draw

100% acts like he isn’t even more chatty than Mammon when given the chance

On the bright side, it’s thanks to these weekly art sessions where you draw and Asmo models and talks that you’re always up to date on the latest gossip. You’re 100% caught up with the fact that Zahhak just found out he has another illegitimate son and that Baphomet just liked Rusalka’s post from fourteen centuries ago

So yeah, the two of you have a mutually beneficial relationship

Asmodeus still insists that one thing would make it better though: him modeling nude

But Asmo is a sweetheart about everything, and he goes out of his way to pamper you 

Specifically, your hands—after all, those are what work your artistic magic!

Expect him to always be peppering your dominant hand with kisses, massaging it whenever you look tired, giving you weekly manicures completely free of charge, all out of the goodness of Asmo’s heart

*ahem* and weekly requests to model nude

Beelzebub

a m a z e m e n t 

Boi is entranced

Like, he’s so mesmerized��by your art that he’s not even paying attention to the food sitting right in front of him, simply opting to stare more intently at the drawing you’re holding up so eagerly

It’s quite beautiful, really: The seven demon brothers surrounding you, a reworking of a photograph Lucifer took a few months ago but in your art style. And for that last fact, Beel thinks he likes this version better

“Wow,” He finally manages to say, still too impressed to really think of anything else

He lets his brothers shower you in praise and compliments, silently nodding along and agreeing with every plaudit they thrust your way

But the moment you’re alone, expect to be scooped into his arms and carried to his room

Boi instantly wants to know the process

When do you draw? How long does it take? Where do you do it? How are you getting your supplies? Who pays?

It’s not so much the physical process he’s interested in, but rather the nuances of art that make your work look so you. He’s not interested in learning for the sake of doing, but simply for the sake of understanding because he already appreciates your art so much

Absolutely invites you to his room to have you show him the art process the next time you start working on a piece

And after the first time, then, he invites you back a second - then a third - and then the two of you have settled into a routine where after school, you come to his room and pencil away in your sketchpad, with Beel watching in the background, munching on snacks

It’s quite relaxing for him, actually

He likes watching as you bring a piece together, going over previously flat areas with a second layer of shading to make certain elements pop—and even if he doesn’t completely understand what you’re doing, he’s entirely willing to learn, listening peacefully as you explain what the various tools do

By the end of the month, man has actually memorized all the names of your supplies, handing them to you every time you ask for it - be it something as simple as a request for an eraser or just the blending stump

Lowkey, your work has actually improved since you began working up in Beel’s room

Not only does he have the most comfortable setup, but the man pampers you like royalty, always making sure that there’s water or food for you in case you need something

(And if you do happen to require something that isn’t already in Beel’s room, man will 100% get it for you so that you don’t have to stop what you’re doing)

Honestly, it’s the perfect arrangement: he gives you the ideal working space and you give him hours upon hours of intrigue

And if you happen to begin sitting in his lap one day while you work, something which quickly turns into a pattern, who’s there to stop anything? ;)

Belphegor

Man naps

A lot

And you just happen to be his favorite pillow, so it’s hardly a surprise when all your free time is spent in the presence of a dozing Belphie, always passed out over your legs

So once, just once, you pull your sketchpad out from under your pillow and work on it, a cautious eye trained on the seventh-born’s every move in case he stirs

And when that first time goes smoothly, you pull your sketchpad out a second time

Then a third

Then a fourth - and suddenly, you’re caught in a pattern

It was really just a matter of time until Belphie woke up one day and you didn’t notice

And it’s already too late when the drowsy demon lifts his head, peering curiously onto your lap to see what you’re working on—much to your horror

“Y-you’re awake,” You mutter halfheartedly, a sick feeling settling in your stomach as you watch the demon’s expression shift as he studies your artwork

You hate it

A bubble of anxiety begins to rise, fear over whether he will like your work or call it bad, whether he’ll make fun of your work or tell the brothers, whether he’ll be kind about it or mean

But then, much to your surprise, he flops back onto your lap, utterly unphased

“Nice,” The demon comments casually, stretching as he rests his head along your thigh. “It’s pretty.”

You can only blink as he falls back asleep, utterly confused as to what just happened

He woke up, right? And he saw your art? And he complimented it, telling you that he thought it was nice and pretty?

A sound of disbelief escapes your mouth as you try to process the utter nonchalance with which the whole exchange had concluded with, your shock only interrupted by the light sound of Belphie, who’s already snoring

You groan

But now that Belphie has seen your work, it’s not like there’s much point in hiding it any longer, right?

You pull your sketchbook out, silently continuing to work on the design that the man napping on your lap had said to be “nice,” adding some finishing touches to it 

And when Belphie wakes up, he speaks nothing of the entire exchange

From that point and onward, you become a little more comfortable around him, relieved that you don’t need to talk about it with him

And he gets it

For all your free time, while he naps, you draw, and the two of you find a comfortable form of peace together, an odd tranquility lurking in the fact that there are no questions, no answers, just you and him, the sound of scribbling and snoring, your sketchpad and his pillow

And really, who needs anything else?

Solomon

He’s probably the first one to realize, on his own, that you’re an artist

The two of you have nearly all your classes together, thanks to Lord Diavolo, so it’s hardly surprising when the ever-astute sorcerer picks up on the fact that every time he casts you a second glance, you’re working on some mysterious sketch underneath your desk

Doesn’t really care at first

Until he sees your work

Man actually stops when he picks your sketchbook up off the ground, inspecting the page it had flipped open to after you dropped it

“Holy shit”

Doesn’t even ask for permission, he just begins browsing through the sketchbook, growing more and more impressed with each new page he sees

You only snatch the book back from his hands when you realize that the sketch he’s staring at so intently is one you drew of him, thanking him for picking it up with a huff and awkwardly trying to remove yourself from the situation as fast as humanly (heh, yes that is a pun) possible

Wizard boy stops you, ofc

“Come with me”

“But I have class soon—"

Again, doesn’t even wait for your agreement, man just drags you by the forearm to the library and flips open a book, throws down his own notebook, and demands that you use your “art skills or whatever” to help him

Sigh

Precious wizard boy isn’t very good with words when he’s all worked up

It takes you a good 5 minutes to understand that he wants you to compare the summoning circle outlined on the book with the one he sketched to identify where he went wrong, because apparently you have an “artist’s eye” and therefore you should be able to assist him - and he refuses to believe you when you try to convince him that no, this is not your strong suit and you will likely be unable to help him

He gets whinier than Asmo (probably where he gets it from) and will not stop nagging you even as you try to leave, so eventually you just give in and agree to try to help him - and it wounds up being surprisingly easy for you to realize that he missed the secondary outline of the inner circle, among another few minor mistakes

Huh, maybe you are naturally inclined toward this

From that moment and onward, Solomon decides that you are officially valuable (not only do you have magical potential, but you have an eye for summoning circles too? how UNFAIR) and begins spending all his time with you

Doesn’t really care about the fact that you’re an artist at first—is really more interested in how your skills can be applied

But then one day, after a particularly rough night of going through twelve whole summoning circles for twelve powerful demons, he takes a nap and wakes up to find you passed out on the floor, sleeping on top of your sketchbook where you fell asleep doodling him

Highkey touched

And slowly, he begins casually “falling asleep” around you more often, to see and flip through more of your artwork when he wakes up 

Sigh

Bby is fucking shady even when he does wholesome shit

Simeon

Okay let’s be real

There’s no peace with the seven demon brothers. Solomon is chaotic. Luke, as much as we love him, is just a lot to be around. And even with Barbatos next to him, Diavolo is a walking tornado that tends to wreak havoc whenever he wills it (and he usually wills it).

So honestly, being with Simeon is the only place of tranquility you can find in the entire Devildom

Specifically, his room

*Which is off-limits to all the aforementioned individuals

He extended the invitation for you to spend some “relaxation time” in his quarters whenever you pleased at the beginning of the year, his angelic heart already sensing the absolute whirlwind of disaster you were walking into when you joined RAD

And while you declined his offer immediately out of politeness, you found yourself sheepishly knocking on his door not one week into the program

And now it’s become an every-day sort of thing

So yeah

Simeon knows about your art

In fact, you can’t seem to draw unless you’re in his presence, because at this point, he naturally soothes you so much that your hand is only steady when you hear the sound of his calm breathing in the background

In fact, you work best when the two of you are spread out on his couch, your back resting comfortably on Simeon’s shoulder while he writes (yes, he manually writes all his books on pen and paper) and you put your legs up on the couch, sketching away in your notebook

It’s the very image of peace, something you can’t seem to find anywhere else in this realm

And Simeon, bless his heart, may be a master of calligraphy, but the precious angel cannot draw to save his life - a fact which you have taken it upon yourself to handle

See, the angel gets tired every now and then—understandable, given that he produces literal masterpieces at his hands

And so when he gets tired, what does he do? 

Make incomprehensible doodles in the upper left corners of his papers

So, of course, you’ve taken it upon yourself to bring those doodles to life (even if it requires a half-hour of inspection before you can make out what the sketch was supposed to be) and Simeon loves it

The expression of eagerness that surfaces every time you inform him that you’ve finished a piece is so rewarding, because the childlike glee with which he takes the paper from your hands to inspect it always sends a rush of warmth to your heart as he gushes in appreciation

But uh 

Simeon is a special kind of chaotic, something that manifests every time he doodles something on paper

You stare at the angel in disbelief as he informs you that his latest doodle (what appears to be a banana-looking creature in sunglasses?) was actually a monkey ironing clothes—unsure what to say in light of this information

But it’s okay :) There only needs to be one artist in this relationship, and it clearly isn’t him

Luke

It started with cake

He needed “inspiration” to make something for Barbatos, as a thank-you gift for the pastry lessons the elder gave him, but Luke claimed that everything he made, while it tasted fine, lacked in the aesthetic department

And while normally you would play it Simeon-style, leaving it to the younger angel to handle things on his own so that he can grow individually, you felt too bad watching him discard another batch of cupcakes into Beel’s mouth, rubbing his head in aggravation over how annoying it was that nothing was looking right

So you helped him out

It was nothing major, really

Just eight doodles—subtle yet elegant designs for a triple-tiered cake, childish and bouncy arrangements to store flan, little details in frosting to give cupcakes the added element of specialty that makes them infinitely better

But the second Luke saw your paper, he went wild

Boi was running to the kitchen so fast he barely even had the time to shout “thank you” 

Apparently, your little sketches sparked inspiration in him so strongly that the flames burned til midnight (much to Simeon’s disapproval), but when Luke was finally done with everything, he walked out of the kitchen with a tray of desserts that looked so perfect it was hard to imagine that he brought them to life from your sketches

Luke spent ages thanking you, shoving desserts down your throat even when you insisted that you were full, so unimaginably grateful that you helped him out of what he called “chef’s block”

Each “thank you” was accompanied either a brownie or a slice of mango mousse or whatever new pastry Luke was creating that day, and before long you were getting to enjoy luxury foods on the daily (much to Beel’s jealousy)

Boy only believed that the debt was paid when you told him that there was no debt to pay, that you sketched those quick little doodles for him out of kindness and not obligation

Believe it or not, Luke’s eyes actually welled with tears for a second at that, before he wrapped you up in a giant (is it really giant if the hugger is so little?) hug, wailing something about you being too “pure” and “perfect” for the Devildom, and that one day you would be very happy in the Celestial Realm

You pat his head, telling him that if it truly made him this happy, you would be glad to help him out again and sketch some food doodles whenever he wanted some new ideas

Cue another round of hugs, muffled crying, and sobs about how amazing you are

Barbatos

Barbatos knew, of course

Not because he used his powers or anything, he would hardly use them for something so trivial, but he was aware from the start that you were an artist because it was he who prepared for your arrival in the Devildom, ensuring that you had all the same amenities and comforts you were used to in the human realm

And, as such, that included art supplies

So the very moment he set his eyes on you, he was aware that you were an artist

What he didn’t expect was for you to actually be good at it

He sees your sketchbook when he’s casually strolling through the RAD library, finding you completely knocked out on one of the tables, the spiral binding of the sketchpad still digging indents into your cheek where you lie on top of it

At first, the butler rearranges your position as a courtesy

He lifts your head and rests it on your hand - which makes a much softer pillow -  coincidentally placing your books back inside your bag and taking a moment to organize the papers strewn across the desk

But then he just happens to glance inside

And the second he does, he’s mesmerized

There’s not much in the world that can surprise Barbatos - not after he’s looked after Diavolo, of all people, for so many millennia - but the butler still finds himself holding his breath as he flips through your sketchpad, each piece telling a story so evocative that it leaves him wanting more even when he arrives at a blank page, abruptly realizing that he’s just gone through your entire sketchbook without your permission

Of course, you just have to wake up at that precise moment - sleepy eyes glancing up at the butler and wondering if you’re hallucinating, but the book in his hands is far too real and the shocked expression on his face is impossibly jarring and you flinch, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you realize what must have happened

Barbatos is a perfect gentleman about it, kindly telling you to get more rest so that you don’t pass out in a public library surrounded by demons who want to eat your soul, but he ends the sharp warning with a rather kind remark about your artwork

“I liked the second-last piece best,” He murmurs, casting you a cryptic smile before bidding you farewell

And obviously, the moment he’s out of sight, your nose is buried in your sketchbook, fingers flipping furiously to find the second-last piece you drew which you cannot seem to remember at all, and—

Oh

A flush immediately erupts on your cheeks as you see the colored sketch, something inspired by nothing more than a whim

It’s simply two people on a walk—both of them vague imitations of what your mind had wistfully conjured up—one of them bearing the telltale mismatched hair and olive green eyes, the other sharing a quiet resemblance to yourself - a conscious decision, of course

But just as you’re about to flip off the page, another detail you’d forgotten about draws your attention—and your cheeks suddenly burn in embarrassment as you realize why Barbatos singled this piece out

The figures are smiling, gazing at each other from the corners of their eyes. And there, in the very center of the piece, it is obvious: 

They are holding hands

Diavolo

RIP to Diavolo’s royal painter

They have been replaced

By you

As much as you fought it, as much as you argued that you were not fitting of this position, as much as you pleaded with the demon lord to not force this title upon your shoulders, Diavolo’s decision to appoint you as the honorary Devildom painter was final—and nothing can change his mind once it’s made up

The title is really just that: a title. Diavolo knows that you’re a busy student, and while he honored your artistic talents with this position, he’s not about to actually force you through the expected proceedings of a true royal painter, not while you’re trying to survive being an exchange student in hell with an entirely unfamiliar curriculum in front of you

But on occasion, he’ll send you a text, asking if you’re free

And you’ll head on over to his palace, ready to paint him

And unlike every other demon, angel, and human in the Devildom, when Diavolo models for you, he actually models nude

Asmo is jealous

Sexual tension is high when you paint him, let’s just leave things at that

And honestly, it really doesn’t matter what you paint - Diavolo seems to be more interested in the fact that it’s a human who did the art in the first place

He once saw your RAD binder, noticing the little doodles you’d drawn on the corner of all your papers, and he immediately took them—declaring that they were art to be preserved for all eternity for historical documentation purposes

So yeah

There’s a hall in Diavolo’s palace filled with your RAD math homework, an eternal reminder of the assignments you copied off of Solomon

(You’re not sure what’s more embarrassing: the fact that you’ve drawn some rather inappropriate doodles on those pages or the fact that, despite having copied all the answers, you still managed to get nearly one-third of the problems wrong, and now your mistakes are to be showcased in the Devildom for centuries to come)

It gets to the point where you and Solomon start making bets over how basic you can get with your art for Diavolo to still consider it “amazing” and “utterly awe-inspiring,” as he likes to put it

In honor of that bet, there is currently a banana peel with a few marker doodles on it hanging in a preserved case in an iced room in the lowest levels of the palace, as none of the “art” can be wasted

But in truth, the demon lord’s fixation with human culture is endearing, especially when Diavolo tries so hard to be accepting of it

So eventually you stop giving Diavolo wacky art and actually start putting your full effort into your creations—your reward being the fact that the final piece you complete gets hung in Diavolo’s private bedroom, where he promises to gaze at it every night for the rest of eternity, vowing to remember his time with you every time he sees it

[stylistiquements]

The Sorcerer pt. 1

Corpse Husband x gn!reader

Reincarnation AU | Summary :

The same candle lights up on Corpse’s desk every time you are reborn and turn 23. He has been looking for you during centuries but this time you might be closer than anticipated.  {Playlist}

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

You’re about to blow your 23rd candles and Corpse is about to experience the consequences of it. Somehow, something about your rebirth is different this time.

☾ Words : 6009.

☾ Warnings : angst, mention of death (only suggested and not specific), grieving, swearing 

Masterlist | Next 

What does it mean to be a sorcerer in 2021? Corpse wonders as he chooses an outfit for his black bean character, lightly tapping his fingers in a crafted rhythm against his dark wooden desk. Nothing, really. The modern days turned his kind into a groundless concept, legendary creatures at best and it’s truly a shame when you think about it.

“Alright, are you ready?” Corpse asks as he moves his mouse above the “start” button and projects everyone into a new round.

“I won’t forgive you like I did last round,” Karl warns Corpse, dash of amusement in his tone.

“Sure,” he scoffs and the devious ghost of a smile shines on his lips when the bloody word “imposter” appears above his virtual pink cat hat.

Sorcerers used to be the rulers of this world and the most famous of well-hidden secrets; no one talked about it yet everyone knew. You just had to be here, respect and adoration followed their every move. People from all horizons went out of their way to meet them in hope of witnessing a miracle.

Oh, how the tables have turned now. They didn’t have to hide their face back then and it all went the harmonious way until a certain day when their fate met a tragic outcome. The day when life took a turn for the hidden.

Corpse is somehow retired now. Maybe that’s why he started doing youtube in the first place; because the craving of being needed had to be fulfilled one way or another. Or maybe because the thrill of life has been gone for so long he had to try everything to fill the void in hope of feeling a drip of something again. The weariness of a mere life stiffened in his rib cage from time to time, preventing a proper breathing.

He could have still been able to practice his magic facelessly -he wouldn’t be the first one to do so after all- but it seems crazy, surreal even, for him to picture being so public about such a heavy little secret nowadays. He found comfort in the concealed, in the invisible so long ago.

See, that’s the most important reason why Corpse is who he is today but stopping the explanations there would be neglecting the truth. Corpse would, but I'm more honest than he is.

Somehow, he believes a little too seriously that a kid’s app was designed to ruin his life. He feels this rotting taste that burns his tongue every time he thinks about it, he always talks about it with great passion; as if one minute videos could compete against the thundering energy that travels from his veins to the tip of his fingers. Witchcraft tiktok got the last bit of his ancestral pride and that’s a damn shame.

His character ambles around the hostile corridors dipped in yellow light, looking for a prey to slice in half. He doesn’t have a plan yet but he sure knows how to improvise by now. Corpse deems that he’s rather good at it. He meets Tina in O2. She’s wandering around, running like a headless chicken. What if he took that expression a little too seriously? Alas, he can’t wrap his mind around the idea of the unforgivable and she escapes his reach. Corpse’s nose wrinkles, better luck next time.

His fictional blood thirst gets stronger when he hops inside a vent and observes Rae’s red character doing her tasks. Corpse knows what comes next, it’s inevitable. A hint of excitement and nervousness hatch on his chest.

At the same time on the other side of the country, the ones you love are carrying a big cake to your table. It seems so silly and it leaves you slightly embarrassed that people are celebrating the fact that you were born but, somehow, you can’t forbid that smile to reach your ears.

When you look at the cake, a snort escapes your control. Your friends drew a glazed picture of you but you find yourself hoping that there isn’t much resemblance between that Picasso-ish designed cake and your actual face. I mean, except for that particularity your face displays; eyes that don’t match in colors, one green and one hazel, it really just looks like a kid's doodle.

23, what a weird number. It doesn’t sit quite right with you for some reason. 22 is fine, same goes for 24 but 23 … Somehow, it feels like something is either missing or too much. You’re not too sure which one it could be.

The warmth that emanates from the candles is sweet and tickles your chin softly and everyone is singing along the most disastrous birthday wishes. You’re preparing for your wish. What could you need more? You’re a faceless horror narrator on youtube and life is just about good. I mean, there really isn’t much to complain about and that should be enough.

Your mind drifts off for a second, contemplating what the dream life could be about while one of your friends is already complaining about wax getting all over your glazed face. You could wish for material things but they come and go and their meaning is only ephemeral, maybe 23 is about getting more than that.

Ah, found it. You close your eyes. May I find the place where I truly belong. 23 candles are blown in one breath, not a bad performance.

That’s when the candle on Corpse’s desk starts shining a delicate and orange shade.

Corpse doesn’t notice it at first, too impregnated by his hunt, but when the unusual warmth finally informs him of the merry event, he wrestles to keep his mind into the game. His virtual character stands motionless for a second as he mutes his mic and takes his headphones off.

Fuck, not now please.

Somewhere, a new version of the love of his life turned 23. His mind drifts off, wandering near this idea as his eyes meet the flame.

It’s been hundreds of years and that fucking candle kept you hostage of his mind. Because Corpse couldn’t forget about you, he built those walls to provide you from slipping away, from invading too much of his busy mind. It was a compromise he made with himself so he couldn’t reach you entirely and, therefore, miss you completely. Yet, your rebirth leaks through the pores of his brain and past the fences no matter how hard he tries.

Corpse battles to breathe, he tries to get his mind back on the game but somehow his throat is already filling with a dangerously acidic concoction. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice immediately the way his fingers start shaking at a painstaking rhythm.

He moves his character around. Left and right. It’s mechanical and meaningless, nothing but a lost cause. Corpse clenches his grip around the mouse, hoping that the unsteadiness would pity him. How much longer can he carry that feeling? It sits on his shoulders and his chest. It tests out his patience, his own resistance to pain.

“Corpse!” Rae shouts wholeheartedly, rooting him out of his spiral. “Where are you?!”

Fuck; he has no ounce of idea of what is happening in real life, too busy going down this familiar and intimate loop once more. He swallows it all, praying that you would spare him some earned mercy. You’re always so cruel, unabashedly sneaking in and taking over his space despite all his efforts.

“I-huh- I’m in medbay, I have scan," he bluffs, hoping that no one would notice the way his voice cracks at the end.

Because if anyone did, he would have to admit that he’s not okay, that he never was and doubts that he ever will be. Just as if conceding the facts would’ve allowed him to feel how flourishing his despair was. There’s this knot inside his throat. It’s painful and he’s so tired. How many times was he left crawling on his bathroom’s floor when his heart fractured a little deeper? He misses you every fucking day but each rebirth brings back more and more longing.

He would love to abandon himself to the aching pleasure of this unsolicited reminiscence but he knows that if he did, you would possess him wholly and never give him back. You plague his mind like a mist that grows thicker and thicker on his lungs. It diffuses everywhere and intoxicates what’s left of him.

“Sure sleepy but that’s bullshit,” Tina whines. “We know it’s Corpse. He’s been sus’ the entire round!”

“He said he had scan, right?” Sean interferes, believing that Corpse is the jester. “Why don’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?”

They’re all waiting for Corpse to step in, to defend himself but he’s no longer here, too busy trying to swallow the emotions that are leaking all over the place. It gnaws him alive, piece by piece and it hurts so fucking much. Will it ever stop?

Silence is convenient, “I voted” badges get pinned on everyone’s chest. His black character falls into the lava, what an ironic metaphor.

“Sorry guys, something came up and I gotta go.” He finally says, hurry in his voice. He doesn’t try to hide it. In fact, he can’t.

“Are you s…” Rae’s voice gets cut abruptly when Corpse quits the call without further notice.

Corpse knows what’s next, when his head gets overcrowded by feelings and his heart too empty. It’s ugly, it’s messy and oh how he wishes it would be different this time.

The room is spinning from the crumbs of your sweet face and the trickle of your voice that drips through his ears as if you were still here. He clings onto that distorted and stained picture as if it was the ultimate proof that you were real. Were you even real once ? Remembering feels like repeating a word over and over again: with time, it loses its meaning. It wasn’t you he remembered, Corpse figured it out a long time ago. You weren’t there anymore.

The thought of it drives him crazy. He wishes he could get rid of that fucking candle, constant reminder of your rebirth away from him, constant reminder of the defeat he has to endure every time you turn 23 and you’re still not by his side. He has been looking for you everywhere for hundreds of years, from the biggest capitals to the most secluded parts of this world, without a single hint of your existence. You’re his greatest failure and he can’t, he won’t stand that.

Corpse grabs the candle and it collides with the floor with a thud that tangles with his raw voice. His chest moves heavily. It's scattered and in discord and there is this distorted gaze on his face when he remembers that the candle cannot be shattered. It’s this unsolicited spark of self-awareness that brings him closer to reality. Fuck. What the fuck is he doing? Corpse finally lost his damn mind. His hands wander uncontrollably in his hair and he looks around frantically for a second, trying to remember how to survive.

Corpse’s head is pressuring him, rushing him to turn off his computer and spill the words that are stuck on the back of his tongue on a piece of paper. That grip is unforgivable and unclear but he starts writing as if it was the only thing left to do, maybe it is. It feels like survival instinct at this point, it feels like the last attempt to collect the pieces of himself you left behind.

Dear you,

Happy birthday, wherever you are in this world. Another letter is about to join the pile. How many are there already? I wouldn’t know. I stopped counting since it made me sick.

As every time, I hope it’s the best birthday you have ever had. I remember the twenty-third birthday we spent together as if it were yesterday. I can no longer recall the way your eyes wrinkled under your bright smile or the sound of your echoing laughter but I do remember that warm feeling inside my chest, the pain in my cheeks from laughing with all my heart. How pleasant was it to be able to live it all with you? To be able to embrace you, to breathe you, to see you. Forgive me, my love, for I am no longer capable of picturing anything of you. I wish I could. I wish I could be haunted by a proper ghost, at least, and not just a glimpse of the range of emotions that animated me when you were by my side. All I can remember now is that you felt like a firework and that my eyes never met a prettier human. It’s so truly unfair to think about the fact that no one matters as much as you still do.

I am drifting off, am I? I always tend to do that in those letters. I hope you’re doing well, I really do. Did you spend your birthday with the ones who love you? I hope you’re happy and healthy. It’s the only important thing, or at least that’s what I have learned so far.

I hate those letters, they make me realize how lonely I am. Somehow, it feels like I’m expecting an answer that is never going to arrive.

Fuck. My skin aches from the lack of your touch. I miss you so fucking much. Just tell me what to do. I tried everything and you’re still stuck inside my brain. I’m a sorcerer for fuck’s sake, one of the most powerful beings to have ever existed and yet the concept of one single human defeats me day after day, rebirth after rebirth. I’m a fucking shame for my kind. I hate you. I love you so very much. Happy birthday.

Yours truly, Corpse Husband

The paper is stained by the storm that has been building up in Corpse's mind for hours. The letters are deformed now. Look at the mess you just made. He throws the letters away, where he can no longer see it and brings his knees to his chest, resting his head between his legs. He feels like screaming one more time but he’s choking. Sweet and sore agony grips his throat as his veins are burning with thick poison.

Don’t be fooled, Corpse would have been able to cast a spell or two to forget about your existence and spare himself a bit. Yet, it would only erase the last proof he had of you, not his feelings. He would have to bear the burden of a quest he could no longer figure out. He would be left longing for something that no longer existed. As if it wasn’t the case already. He wishes he could sleep, life would be so fucking easier if he could just fall asleep.

A few days have passed since your birthday. The thread between days and nights is thin and confusing and the candle on Corpse’s desk is still radiating with as much energy as the first day.

Corpse’s head is heavy, aching, he wonders if he could still carry it on his shoulders if he wasn’t lying on his bed. That sore body feels like it has been drained from an eagerness that has been growing for too long. Corpse groans, trying to figure out what’s sheets and blankets and what’s limbs, living up to the name he chose for himself.

Every ray of the sun is burning his skin. It leaves his body smelling like heat, he doesn't like that smell. Now, he could just get up and draw the curtains but that laziness is as weary as infiltrated. If only it could rain, maybe it would soothe his nerves and his growing migraine.

After a few minutes of silent fulminations, Corpse finally unlocks his phone and opens his texts one by one just to ignore them. He’s curled up on himself, as if a compressed version of his darkness could help in order to block the light. Sorcerers are supposed to be tied with nature, with every ray of the moon and the sun. His bond with the sun is molded, if not completely doomed to grow untie. Corpse is a sorcerer like no others and that goes without saying.

One text captures his breath and his attention, bringing back some interest into the numbness. It’s coming from you, y/n. Or at least, the “you” from this present life. The “you” who isn’t aware of the past and the “you” Corpse doesn’t know is the one he has been looking for during eternity.

In this life, the two of you aren’t close enough to be friends -and he would never let you take that role- but, by the time of your first Twitter interaction -which consisted of you tweeting emo Sykkuno with tattoo pictures and Corpse replying with a meme that said "If life is a simulation please turn it off", Corpse knew you should be near him at all time. Not too close for you to actually be able to touch him but definitely not too far. It’s peculiar but something that has to be felt, not explained; a primitive hunch so loud it couldn’t be unheard.

His mind is awake again. The plan for today, which consisted of him rotting in his bed, seems compromised right now. Corpse turns to lay on the left side of the bed, where the sheets are cooler. His brows furrow and he sighs heavily as he rubs his eyes with his thumbs.

Corpse really doesn’t know why he’d feel that way in the first place for someone like you. You always seem so organic, radiating, so free in the way you choose to exist. He envies you for being so authentic when all he can afford to do is remain hidden, where no light can really reach him if not to draw a faint shape of his being. No harsh feelings though, it’s just the way he feels about anyone who doesn’t sound fake. There is still a bit of remaining endearment in the way Corpse’s words are thrown at you, you just have to know what to look for.

Now, Corpse trades his horror narrator's advices against some social media help. Those things are bigger than him, he’s too old for that anyway. You think the way he still uses symbols as emojis is charming -no one does that anymore- but Corpse just can’t keep up with today’s slang and way of showing emotions via texts. Kids these days are just too creative with the way they express themselves.

[Hello, Mr Sorcerer, hope you’re doing good. I need your help on something.]

Huh.

He meets your words and his mind gets coated in sweat, frozen blood preventing the next heartbeat from happening. Who told you?

Corpse can’t wrap his mind around the fact that his most precious secret is being exposed with that much negligence. He can count on his fingers the number of people who are aware of his true nature, half of them are actually other magical beings of some sort. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

His head is hammered by thoughts. He thinks he’s screwed, that everyone will know. He can already foresee what is about to come. That’s why there is a bit of fear in the way his eyebrows are arching. His alerted mind screams for him to just throw his phone across the room but his fingers, covered in panic, are faster. The first text he sends is not directed to you, but to Sykkuno, his familiar.

Familiars are to sorcerers what assistants are to magicians. In short -but not limited to- a massive help.

Corpse’s link with Sykkuno transcends the law of words and thoughts. They just understand each other and the way they do, without even having to see each other, is just something that has to be witnessed once in a lifetime. It’s a sort of energy that travels through space, a special connection. It's light and invisible but leaves a warm trail on its way.

However, what doesn’t transcend their bond is the concept of time zone -which Corpse forgot about for a second. Sykkuno is probably asleep right now. Corpse’s panic takes back its race once he realizes he’s on his own and he types:

[Haha, very funny. You know, if you wanted to talk, you just had to say hi :)]

Denial, that will do the trick, right? You can’t be that persistent. Or at least that’s what Corpse hopes when he leaves his phone on an unstable balance on his forehead, waiting for an answer he hopes would spare his mind from yet another issue he has to take care of.

[I knew you’d say that but don’t worry, I promise I won’t snitch,] you reply, lips twitching under a sly smile. [I’m way too afraid of you cursing me or something.]

[Who told you shit like that anyway?]

[I just know someone.]

His expression hardens, that head keeps throbbing harder and harder by the minute. You’re so impetuous and it turns him into an impatient and choleric fog. The topic is too important, crucial and it shows how you truly have no idea what you’re talking about when you act as recklessly as you do.

[Some crazy folk told you about magic and you believed them, huh? Thought you were smarter than that.]

[Dream would be pretty upset if he knew you called him “some crazy folk”.]

Corpse stares numbly at his screen before sitting back on his bed, pulling away from his vision the curly strands that fell down. He throws a bunch of silent curses at the sun which is still attacking him, if not even more now. He types a few words but erases them in a snap, repeating the process once or twice more. Now he has to send another text, this one is for Dream : “we need to talk.”

What a weird day.

Questions, Corpse has so many of them but he can’t stop shaking his head with confusion. He had no idea you knew Dream. Why would Dream reveal something so critical as Corpse’s identity? Why would another sorcerer send you his way? That’s not how things are done unless it’s something they deem they wouldn’t be able to handle and there’s really a few things Dream wouldn’t be able to do. Corpse hesitates for second, fingers fidgeting in the air. He doubts that he would ever be capable of doing something Dream can’t do but does it really matter when, right now, you’re holding information you should never be holding in the first place?

[Feeling like trading secrets under the full moon?] You outbid. It’s always so tempting to tease Corpse when he sounds like a grumpy old man.

[A sincere fuck you.]

[That’s very rude, Mr Sorcerer.]

The way you avoid providing any sort of explanation grows in his mind like weeds that need to be ripped off. Really, from all the good timing in the world, you had to choose the worst one. But there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips when he does the math and realizes that, if you wanted to use that secret to your advantage, you would have done it by now. A slow relief that softens his headache. Also, Corpse is well aware that, as annoying as you can get, he can’t refuse you a thing.

[Fine, tell me what you need.]

[So I keep seeing the same number again and again and your name keeps appearing in my head at random times. Still don’t get the correlation but I know there is one. I wanna know the number’s meaning and how I can get rid of you.]

Corpse huffs, he’d like to know that himself. He’s about to laugh it off when he reads the text one more time. Something about it is mysterious enough to pique his curiosity. You mentioned his name, it bothers him. Not that he doesn’t appreciate you thinking about him but because it sounds odd enough to be something related to magic in one way or another. There’s this mix of excitement and apprehension that fills the pit of his stomach and now half of a smile is embellishing his lips. This buzzing sound in his brain, maybe it’s the final signal that he should start practicing magic again, the final signal his life will feel thrilling again.

[Call you in 5. This is a consultation by the way, I’m not doing this for free.]

[Fine, you rat.] You answer with a victorious smile.

Corpse’s words linger in the air. It’s smooth like velvet -you could almost touch it if you pictured it hard enough- and it’s soothing in some way. It’s deep mumbles and bits of light chuckles and a little magic. You’re spinning slowly on your chair, playing with strands of your hair. There’s a different tone in Corpse’s voice. He sounds tired and it’s mixed with something else you can’t really pinpoint. For the best or the worst, that, has yet to be determined.

“So.” Corpse says, bringing you back to reality. “What’s that number you were talking about?”

“Right. So, I keep seeing the number 5 everywhere. I wake up at 5:55 every morning. When my eyes are looking at the clock, it’s 5:55PM and it extends to absolutely everything.” You faintly slap your palm against your thighs in exasperation.

Corpse is silent for a moment as he tries to collect the bits of knowledge that are still hanging here and there inside his mind. As he expected, the pressure below his left eyebrow makes it hard to think. He really doesn’t get why Dream wouldn’t be able to take care of a matter that sounds so frivolous. It feels like the most important piece of the puzzle is missing , the one that makes the whole picture makes sense.

“Okay, this is not really my specialty but the number 5 is an interesting angel number.” Corpse hums. The word “specialty” echoes. Dream talked about that once and somehow, that’s how you finally realized that Corpse was, indeed, a sorcerer. Not that you wouldn’t believe the information in the first place but there’s a remarkable difference between learning and experiencing. What would be his specialty then?

Dream introduced you to this new veil a couple of months ago and you never fully believed in it before getting involved. Maybe that’s why you never talked about it to anyone. Even now, your skeptical nature always finds its way back to you. He said all sorcerers had specialties and that his was clairvoyance. You don’t really know what that means but you wouldn’t ask too much. Knowledge seems like a curse in that field, or at least that’s what you have learned from Dream’s distressed tone when he talked about the past. He always sounded like a broken record, a little out of tune, as if his soul was still partially stuck back there and maybe that’s why Corpse always sounded that way too.

“Do you believe in guardian angels?” You raise an eyebrow, high voice brimming with confusion.

“Do you?” Corpse pauses, you’re silent for a couple of seconds and he realizes that he won’t get an answer to that. “The number 5 is your guardian angel trying to tell you that things are about to change in your life. In fact, it means that the process already started.”

“You’re kinda scaring me though,” you say as you readjust your sit, nose wrinkling under an almost grimace. You don’t like it, you don’t like their world. It’s not yours, you’re only a human with a mere life and an almost mere job. Sometimes, you hate Dream for letting you on this secret you were now forced to keep. It always felt so two faced.

“You don’t have to be scared, the change is only gonna benefit you.” Corpse’s voice is soft and the way you can tell he believes in the words he is speaking is almost as surprising as reassuring. You can’t help it, you don’t like change. The unknown is called that way for a reason and maybe this reason is the explanation for why it needs to remain that way.

“Sure,” you coy. “What do I do about you? That’s what really interests me.”

He scoffs. Trust me, that’s what interests him the most as well. Yet Corpse knows no answer to that. He hesitates for a second and his eyes wander into the void. Should he let you know that he doesn’t have a clue, that it somehow scares him as much as it intrigues you? It feels like his broken sorcerer ego would crack even more if he did. Maybe he just had to find out before letting you know.

“Are you obsessed with me, y/n?” Corpse winces. Why would he have to travel through sarcasmland(™) to escape the question? His eyes go wide for a second, flickering on corners of his empty room. It’s only fair that he would tease you like you tease him, right?

“You’re just being annoying now,” you mumble, cheeks flushing in a vivid tint of pink and Corpse snorts.

Corpse almost forgot about himself for a second, about that damn candle, but it hits him once the conversation fades away and the static silence is the only thing left. So he gets up, grunts in complaint rooted out by sore muscles, turns his computer on and plays some rain sounds. The melody of droplets hitting the ground is reminding him how to breathe.

“Rain sounds, huh,” you whisper. “You like those.”

Corpse hums and the two of you are left listening to the rain. It tickles your ears pleasantly, so you close your eyes and relax in the back of your chair for a moment. It’s a beautiful disharmony if you really pay attention, just like Corpse is. You feel like the conversation is about to end, you don’t want him to hang up just yet.

“Corpse?” Your voice trails for a second and Corpse hums again. “Why did you decide to be faceless?”

“What did Dream answer to that question?” His tone is interesting, a bit higher than it probably should have been. What came up as conversation modalities turns into a piqued interest.

“He never answered me," you mumble.

“So people like you can’t take advantage of our nature in real life too,” he lies and you can tell by the half chuckle that travels with the answer.

You know you won’t get more from him, way less than you wish you did. Those faceless sorcerers always leave you hanging. They let you in on their little Hannah Montana life but never bear the consequence that is this endless and flowing well of questions. The rain rings heavily through your ears. It’s time for the call to end.

"Goodbye, Mr Sorcerer,” you sing before hanging up.

When the darkness finally surrounds Corpse, he slips into a strange place that greets him with a familiar smell; vanilla and freshly cut grass. The birds are singing. He takes a long inspiration, his body knows before he does. Corpse looks around, trying to let the image of the surrounding setting sink in.

That place seems oddly familiar, yet totally new; a kitchen made of golden wooden walls. It's decorated with an old and distinguished taste. The wooden table is dressed with a pretty blue and red tablecloth. Vases of fresh flowers displayed on parts of the kitchen, dried herbs hanging above the sink in front of the window. It’s dipped in sunlight, too bright to be real. The rays of light are swaying with the shadows of branches which are dancing outside with the wind. Corpse doesn’t mind the light for once, he even closes his eyes for a second to let every pore of his body get soaked in it. God, did he miss that place.

“Honey, I was waiting for you.”

Corpse’s heart jumps a little before clutching harder. He knows who’s here, he knows it’s his unforgettable love and the idea makes him almost want to never open his eyes again. He can feel it, the profound kindness and sweet smiles that are surrounding you like it always have and it makes his eyes burn with tears that are ready to trail down his cheek, sobs jostling inside his throat. Corpse wishes he could just cover you in embraces and kisses but he can’t, he can never do that in those dreams.

Corpse tries his hardest not to let the frustration immerse him in bitterness by controlling his breathing which could get carried away at any moment now. He finally swallows it all to look at you. There’s a significant disappointment on his face when he realizes yours is as blurry as always. He wishes he could just witness this beauty one more time. He doesn’t remember what your face looks like, you’re not real. It’s nothing but a dream and you’re not here.

“I made some cookies for you.” The ghost of you says as it points out a chair that seems to have appeared out of nowhere, inviting him to take a seat as it does the same. “Those are your favorite, remember?”

With a voice sweeter than honey, so bewitching, Corpse’s body works on its own and mimics your gestures. His eyes are frozen on your silhouette. He tries to remember the shades and colors that were once painted on your face. If only he could remember.

“Did you redecorate our kitchen?” Corpse asks as he takes a bite of the cookie.

“Did I?” Your past self wonders out loud. “It’s been so long, I can’t tell.”

The treat tastes as good as it always has, Corpse takes another bite. The silence in the kitchen is delicate, contemplative. Outside, the weather is lovely; white clouds floating above the endless and bright green meadows. Corpse tries to take everything he can from that dream, from the peacefulness he feels now deep inside, and the perfume of your skin, to the sweet voice that caresses his ears. If Corpse could stay here forever, he would.

“Why are you here, my love?” You suddenly ask, forcing Corpse’s attention which he refuses by looking away.

“I wonder if the wind is warm or cool outside, maybe I should check.”

Corpse knows what happens every time you visit his dreams : you end up asking this question, he answers and suddenly he’s alone and you vanished into thin air. The response is always the same; because I miss you. It leaves him feeling lonelier than ever, craving a presence he can no longer be blessed with. Just a little bit longer, please. He blinks rapidly to expel the few tears that are forming in his eyes, so the knot inside his throat wouldn’t become more unbearable than it already is. Corpse is left feeling so desperate and helpless.

In a precipitation he almost can't control, he gets up and walks towards the door. He just wants to feel the wind on his skin. Please, just a bit longer. Corpse is almost at the door when his eyes deform with stupor under the pressure of a hand that grabs his sleeve. His heart stops, he was never able to touch you in a dream before. What changed? There’s a moment of hesitation before his eyes travel from your hand, to your arm, to your neck, to your face and he can no longer swallow his emotions when he dives into your eyes. Your eyes, he can see them.

When Corpse wakes up, wiped out of his dream, his breath is short and sweat pearls down his forehead. He’s in a rush, he remembers something about your face, something important. He knows what to look for now; your eyes, your irises. They don’t match in color. The left is green, the right has a pretty hazel color.

☾ A/N : Welcome on this new AU my friends I’m so excited to have you here with me on this new journey! I hope you liked the first chapter. A big thank you to @moontwinkles for beta reading the chapter and being a big help 💗 How are we feeling about this? Faceless leo men being sorcerers and familiar Sykkuno??? Idk I’m a little too passionate about it. Don’t worry the next chapter won’t be as angsty as this one but I needed to express my thrist for angst lmao anyway let me know what you think! Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

☾ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 *OPEN* : @open-minded-chip-101​ ; @lochness-butmakeitsexy​ ; @bizarrebibitch​ ; @bellomi-clarke​ ; @ladybismuth​ ; @katyasrussianaccent​ ; @satanhauntedourcats​ ; @owl-llie​ ; @teenloves​ ; @notannis​ ; @mcntsee​ ; @rottenroyalebooks​​ ; @peachdoppi​ ; @mirahg​ ; @foxxtrot-116​ ; @koi-soi​ ; @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker ; @butterfly-skinnylegend ; @fanworrior ; @stickystrawberrysyrup ;

[marshmallowprotection]

Saeran’s Passport Package

I’ve been waiting since the 19th to get my hands on this baby and I’m glad that it got here today. It took me a little bit to sit down and go through everything cause I wanted to cry about it the entire time. 

Spoilers Ahead, everyone. So, if you’re not interested in seeing what’s in the Passport set AFTER the events of Saeran’s After Ending, then do not click Read More, got it? I’ve made it clear to you. I will say that it’s worth the money if you’re debating buying it. 

So, we can go over the contents in the box, first as an overview. You receive a letter stamped with a cute sticker as well as the passport itself which holds the notes that Saeran’s been taking and drawing since this all started. I just think that’s cute. My brain said don’t open that passport until we review the letter first so, why don’t we go over the letter first? The little details are really cute. There’s just so many stamps on this baby. 

The little touches are what sell it. You’ve got this man putting his love all over it and there’s a CUTE NOTE of CATS. Sir, was that a touch to Saeyoung? I know you know that your brother is a dork. Homage to brother who is an idiot but too glaringly obvious. It got a chuckle out of me. I know this man, and it’s just getting to me. 

The passport itself is also really cute. It has the art from the promo banner but instead of everyone hustling around together, there’s new poses and all of that jazz. Jaehee isn’t rushing around. Zen’s got a selfie stick, no surprise on that front. Jumin just chilling. Seven and Yoosung... doing what they do best and you know it. RUN, YOOSUNG, RUN.

Saeran and MC... being cute on the inside made me go, “Aw!” Ice cream. They can really just put ice cream and it’s going to make me cry, huh? Really? Is that how easy this is? Am I a joke to you, Cheritz? Is that what this is? 

Now, if you want to talk about the contents in the letter, you get this sheet that is listed in three languages, surprised me, Korean, Spanish, and English, and it lets you tick off little things that you like to do. An itinerary sheet. I feel like this is purely Jumin crafting these. It asks about Cats. Literally. Cats. Wine? Yeah, this is on Jumin. You always come in flex, Jumin, but oh boy, I’m chuckling over here at these little touches. 

You get 2 boarding passes. One with Saeran’s name and one with a blank to fill in your name. I thought that was cute. Tying in that with the CG of the passes in the game with this just makes it more real to me. I’m holding this in my hands and it just makes my immersion feel much more real than it did when I was holding my phone in my hand and playing this out. 

I think merch like this just makes you feel more apart of the story then you do when you’re able to talk and chat, you know? If you really like feeling like you are involved with the game, this is how you do it. You wanna know how I know that Jumin is the one setting this up with Saeran? Flip over the fucking passport and you realize that Elizabeth is on the back.

I’m still laughing. 

I’m trying to imagine this and now, like, I’m starting to see why Jaehee is so damn tired because Elizabeth really is on everything that he can get his hands on and she’s good too many files to sort through when it comes to whatever the photographers take of her. Jumin can’t take photos. He’s either got Jihyun to do this for him at some point, or he’s straight up hiring photographers for her cause he can’t do it. 

I mean, we all know that Jumin will put Elizabeth everywhere but I just— It’s on the BOARDING PASSES? JUMIN! 

There’s also a postcard within the letter that is once more, written in all three aforementioned languages. Saeran says that it feels like a dream when he is with you, like this is where he’s always meant to be. His promise of happiness is made truest when he’s with you. I teared up a little. I know that he means well when he does that but damn, does it take an arrow to the heart every single time he does it. 

Saeran put a lot of thought into this in a very short amount of time. I know that he did this plan likely with the idea that he may not be able to go with us but he wanted us to be able to see the world for him. You know, how he implied that he wanted Saeyoung to see things for him? To live for him? Even if he was dead, he wanted Saeyoung and the player to be happy and free. 

The blurred state on those... doesn’t have names. It doesn’t name Saeran in this photo. 

The implication of his sacrifice with the boarding passes kind of hurts because this is a side note of the fact that Saeran Did Not Know If He Would Live To See This Through. He made it thinking maybe.. if things worked out, it would be an okay future, but this was... God. I just. I’m thinking about the weight of the AE and what that felt like. I almost glossed over the Boarding Pass because I was just so upset with him.

I’m the type to try to sacrifice myself for others, too. I have that in common with Saeyoung and Saeran. 

I think that we’d argue over who should die for the others and while that’s macabre, it’s just the kind of people that we are. We love these people so much that we’re willing to die if they’re safe and sound. Knowing that, I understand what Saeran tried, and even what Saeyoung tries, but it’s hard cause I want to make sure they’re happy in comparison to myself. 

This is where being selfless is a bad thing. 

Does anyone know what a big deal it is for Saeran to have a passport? He’s never had an ID or paperwork in his entire life. If he did, he would’ve been killed, so would his brother. They’re both never had IDs. Unless you count the ones from the Agency and Mint Eye. They’ve got them in the Believer box with their names and faces, but that’s not official. That’s not paperwork that everyone else has. That’s just... 

You know? 

Seeing this tangible thing in my hands is a testament to Saeran Choi being alive and thriving. He’s not afraid of showing his face. He’s living. He’s a free man and nobody can kill him for existing. Does that not weigh on anyone here? It hit me and I wanted to cry. I might break down thinking about this later because I just take this too seriously. Look at him. Look at HIM. Okay? Did you look? Now, LOOK AGAIN.

Okay, I’m not going to share every single page inside of the passport but I will give you little snippets of the journey ahead and show you what he writes and draws. Yes, he’s drawing. I knew that he was talented because he is great at doodling and drawing, but he knows how to have such a cute style that I want to gush about and he probably has no clue about how cute it is because nobody’s ever told him!

Okay, so the trip is broken up over a few months and into segments. You know how I was surprised by the 3 languages? Yes, this passport is written in three languages and it stays that way. It implies that Saeran knows English and Spanish, or at the very least, he’s been studying them, I get that it’s kind of a neat tie in to make sure that all languages are included but I only English and I can only read Spanish, I suck at conversational Spanish, so I could only read the English and Spanish sections. 

So, if anyone wants to throw in what the Korean segments say, please do. I have a rough idea, but it’d be nice to know. The first segment of the trip is spent traveling over Korea. You see the things that he packed in the bag! 

I almost had a heart attack because I thought the vitamins were Caffeine Pills. I was about to beat my Husband and make him go to bed. Thin ice, Saeran. Thin ice, the Special Believer package implied you take more then ten and I want you to go the fuck to sleep at night. 

He packed his hanbok! Look! You remember? From the title screen event? The blue shirt is the one that he matches with MC in. There’s so much I’m screaming about it. 

It shows you things that you do. Like, biking, karaoke, gardens... is there a locket bridge in Korea? You know? If you put them together on a bridge, it’s said that your love lasts forever. I forget where that came from but I guess there must be one in South Korea, too. Oh, and food. Can you believe that he can eat whatever he wants now? I’m sobbing. 

Please. 

HE’S IN HANBOK. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

Okay, here’s the thing. I only have one gripe with the Passport Package and I’m going to say this again at the end, but I really wish that they had included big photos for this because the Passport itself it rather small and I wish that I could have bigger photos of this. It’s my only complaint. Literally, it’s the only thing I have to say about the box that will affect my rating. Look, we’re doing cheesy couple stuff! 

HE’S DOING THE HEART THING WITH HIS HANDS.

A KISS. 

KISS.

GUSHING.

DYING. HELP. ME. 

God, I wish I wasn’t broke. I would commission someone to do this for my MC. 

The second and third portion of the trip are spent in the U.S.A. and Mexico, I was so surprised by that! New York and Hawaii specifically are what they name and I was. Well, those are really far apart, huh. I mean, those are very popular spots. I’m not surprised. I’m chuckling because he’s got matching outfits. 

Saeran Choi, you really want the embarrassing couple look, don’t you? Well, if it’s for you, I’d do it. Did... Saeyoung or Jumin set us up, are we fucking loaded? There’s mad bank here. 

Saeran and MC basically are living per Jumin and Saeyoung, to be honest, because Saeran’s never had a job and MC is... your MC literally agrees to go and test a game in the woods, how good can our lives be? I’m broke, boy. I ain’t got nothing. So, I like to think that those two are offering to let Saeran be as happy and free as he wants. No expense. Like, kindness. The RFA is too damn much, I’m gonna cry. I’m starting to understand why the RFA didn’t hear from us for months. 

The final Check-In with the RFA is set 6 Months after the events that take place when we save Saeran. The events of this Passport cover 3 months. So, we go back to Korea after this adventure and met up with Saeyoung, because we know that we’re hanging out with him in the conclusion. So, if they haven’t really heard from us, that means that we’ve been traveling more with him. 

I kind of like that. 

We’re spending time with Saeran alone and time with the brothers together, and that’s sweet! I love that. I need to write more about it. 

I’m trying not to laugh about this Mexico portion but it looks like he passed out from an ice tea... lemonade...? It’s surely not alcohol. Maybe too much sugar, I know that crash can hurt. I’ve been there. I just know that you’re not implying the man with alcohol trauma is gonna drink. Nope. Neither he nor Saeyoung ever will do that. I stand by that statement and I’ll die by that statement. Bite me my tongue if I’m wrong, but I stand by that. 

Saeran is at least mindful of the sun. He’s also made notes that the perfect time for sunset is 18:34. Cute. He notes that it’s time for the Day of the Dead as well, so that’s fun!

IS THAT A FUCKING V CACTUS—

TWO V CACTUS—

There’s actually a portion in here where he asks you certain questions and you have the space to fill in it. I like that it’s interactive. 

Do you have favorites sweets? Are there things about yourself that you hide? Did you make sure to ask Santa what you wanted? I’m wheezing. The food doodles are one thing, and the Christmas photo is one thing, but he really drew himself as a butterfly and the MC as a bug catcher. 

“CATCH ME, MC.” 

Help me. 

I’m laughing so hard.

Saeran, you fucking goofball.

And, the last page of the passport is us assumedly returning home with all kinds of trinkets and gifts. Flower crown, snow globe, cactus, hats, listen, there’s a lot of details in this photos that I really wish I could have it blown up. 

That’s really my only complaint about the Passport Package. I really want to have bigger photos that are shared. I wouldn’t have minded if it was the photo of the final CG in the game, or the Christmas photo, I really would have enjoyed getting that to have for myself. 

You know? The passport itself is roughly like 5 x 7 or so, so while it’s not big, it’s still like. I would love to see the details blown up. It’s smaller then the diary, that I know for sure. I think it’s the only thing stopping from giving Cheritz a 10/10 on this item. 

I’m going to have to give them a 9.8/10 simply because it feels like we are lacking one big photo. 

I guess I’ll print my favorite CGs and decorate my room like that. But, all and all, I really enjoyed reading this and it made it feel like I was there and I was able to reflect on Saeran’s vacation with the player. Like, he was doing this as we were going using his little doodles... I’m in love with this fucking sap. I’d say that this is worth the money. 

For sure. 

My only gripe aside. That’s a personal problem, not really a content problem. I love this bastard. 

Look at him, he’s GOT A PLUSHIE. I have so many things that I want to write about now thanks to this. Saeran, darling, sweetie, my love, I am dying. Either way, I’m glad this arrived when it did. I needed this. I justified getting this for myself because I don’t expect to get anything for my birthday in early February but I’m happy I have him.

It’s been five years since I found this game in August 2016. I’m happy that it’s been here with me. 

[mmelonheadd]

HI, CAN I HAVE A LITTLE SEROTONIN?

Yawn. Mornin’ my lovelies.

Drink some water, take your pills, and try to love yourself today - and if loving yourself proves difficult, try one or two of the following:

Start that book you’ve been wanting to read but never got around to. I should probably follow my own advice as I’ve had that book “Cherry” by Nico Walker on my bookshelf for... I don’t even know how long. Read five pages. Read a hundred. Your value as an individual is not tied to your productivity.

Wash your face. Exfoliate. Put on lotion. Hell, maybe do a facial? A clay mask or something? Idk man.

Journaling is good... Well, journaling is good unless you’re the kind of person whose mind goes to dark places when writing. In that case: journaling bad.

Put some effort into your outfit today. I normally wear joggers or pajama pants and graphic tees because they’re comfortable (I have sensory issues) and easy, but if I’m feeling bad it helps to put a nice outfit together.

Take a long shower or bath. Also they have shower steamers now? The shower version of bath bombs?

Doodle. Doodling can’t go horribly wrong, right?

Watch a stand-up comedy special.

Throw on your favorite pop record, put on your headphones and just vibe for a while. (Personally I’m listening to a lot of Kehlani lately.)

Do you have pets? Ones who enjoy being snuggled? Snuggle them.

Eat that mango in your fridge before it goes bad. No, I’m not stalking you. I just have sliced mango in my fridge.

- Melonhead

[lavenderdaisyhoney]

A Summer’s Discovery - Part 1

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader 

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: modernverse, Reader is a summer camp counsellor who somehow ends up meeting Levi in the mountains.

Warnings: injury, blood, missing kid, this chapter is sfw but others might not be.

You open your eyes to the beautiful symphony created just for you by nature. In other words, the birds are chirping high and loud because they’re mating. You do your typical morning stretch while simultaneously kicking off your covers. You look across the room to the bed Ymir is supposed to be sleeping in but it’s already been neatly made. Of course. She’s an early riser while you are always running late. Just like now.

You quickly get off of bed and head to the bathroom to get ready for the day. After a quick shower, you brush your teeth, get dressed, and throw your hair into a bun haphazardly because somehow you’re already running late. What else is new? You make your bed and grab your walkie talkie and throw your hiking boots on. A zip up sweatshirt completes your outfit and you’re good to go.

-----------------------------------------------

“Well well well. You’ve finally decided to show up, Y/N.” Ymir jokingly comments. The mess hall is loud and lively despite it being only 7 am. One of the perks of being in a place filled with children. Or not.

“Yeah. To no help from you, Ma’am. Why didn’t you wake me?” You both join the line for breakfast. The line starts to move up slowly.

“Shhh, I need some coffee. Must have coffee.” Your friend is a total zombie in the mornings without her coffee.

“I’ll go grab your coffee.” You leave the line to the drink area and grab a coffee for the both of you. Ymir’s is straight up black, no milk or sugar. Meanwhile you opt for milk and tons of sugar. You join back up with Ymir in line and hand her the poison. She takes a sip and sighs happily.

“To answer your question, you looked so cute all bundled up in your comforter. How could I disturb you?” She takes another sip of coffee as you both move up in line and hold your plates out to the lunch ladies. After your plates are filled with eggs, toast, veggie sausage, and home potatoes, you grab the ketchup and drizzle a healthy amount all over your food.

“Hey Y/N, would you like some breakfast with your ketchup?” Ymir asks while rolling her eyes and gently leading you both away from the line up towards the table the counsellors usually eat at. You both sit down and dig in.

As you’re enjoying your simple breakfast, you look out towards the large windows and notice storm clouds are rolling in. “Hey, Ymir. Looks like it’s going to rain heavily today. Weren’t we supposed to go cave hunting with the kids?” You’re lowkey panicking because you don’t have a back up indoor activity prepared even though that was one of the tips suggested to you during orientation. You opted to nap instead of taking notes and you’re heavily regretting it right now.

“Yea but since I’m always prepared, I put together several indoor activities after orientation in case this would happen.” Ymir pulls a folder from her bag and slides it across the table to you. The folder has your name written in big bold letters with some cute doodles on the side. Of course, she had prepared an extra copy for you. That’s your best friend. She always has your back.

“I can’t thank you enough for this. I love you.” Ymir sends you a warm smile in return and continues eating her breakfast.

Just as both of you are getting up to return your dirty cups and plates, Lilian, one of the kids from your squad, comes running up to you.

“Y/N, Gabi didn’t show up for breakfast today. I thought you should know.” Lilian looks down at her shoes while playing with the bottom of her shirt.

“Okay Lil, thanks for letting me know. I’ll do a quick check of her cabin. Maybe she’s not feeling well?” You walk to the plate bin, place your dirty plate inside of it, and head to the door. You turn around to ask Ymir to look after your squad but she’s already having them line up and dispense their dirty plates in the bin. With a smile, you head out to the door towards Gabi’s cabin.

All of the kids cabin’s are lined up neatly near the mess hall so it doesn’t take you long to find Gabi ’s. You knock and there’s no answer. “Gabi , it’s Y/N. I’m coming in.” You warn and slowly push open the door. With a look around you can tell it’s empty. No sign of the kid. You sigh and rub your forehead. Gabi has been a problem child since summer camp has started. You suddenly remember the time she put a frog down your shirt and you shiver at the memory. You move towards her bed and notice a note placed neatly on top of the pillow.

‘heard if it rains we can’t go cave hunting so I’m going on my own. Don’t look for me, I’ll be fine.” is written in red crayon. Oh, this is bad. You quickly grab the note and head back towards the mess hall where thankfully everyone is still gathered.

“Ymir!” You walk towards her holding out the note. “Looks like we have a runaway kid.”

Her eyes skim over the note. She looks up to you and sighs. “This is why kids needs to be trained better, Y/N. This whole love approach you got going on clearly doesn’t work on kids the likes of Gabi . Anyways, protocol states that a group of adults should go look out for the kid while a few remain back at camp.”

You nod and grab your walkie talkie to let everyone know of the situation. Five mins after your announcement, Hange, one of the lead counsellors, walks into the mess hall.

“Okay here’s the game plan. Y/N, Ymir, Historia, Connie, Mikasa, Eren. You six suit up and go look for Gabi . The rest of the counsellors will stay and keep the kids calm and indoors. I will stay in the main office in case of emergency and you’ll all be able to contact me through the radio system. Let’s find this kid before the storm hits. Everybody roll out!”

-----------------------------------------------

You’ve all suited up in your hiking gear with emergency packs strapped to your backs. It’s been an hour since the search has started and the only sign that Gabi has been in the woods are a small pair of child sized footprints that seemed to lead everywhere and nowhere.

You’re worried because now things are getting serious. Hange has notified you that if you don’t find Gabi within the next hour, her parents and the authorities will have to be notified. You’re still deep in thought when you hear Eren call out.

“Hey, we got something.” Everybody rushes to Eren’s location only to find a small piece of Gabi’s raincoat ripped off and stuck on a branch. “She must’ve got caught in the branch and ripped it in haste.” He observes.

You point to the general area ahead that the branch seems to be pointing at. “Then she must’ve gone this way.”

“Highly doubtful.” Ymir says, a map stretched out in her hands. “According to this map, there’s nothing but old cliff sides that way. If she was looking for caves then she must’ve headed towards the mountains which are east of us.”

“You’re right. At this point, we should all split up in groups of two so we can cover more ground that way. Remember, if we can’t find Gabi within 45 mins, everything will be out of our hands.” Historia warns while looking at her compass.

“We also have about a half hour before the rain starts.” Mikasa adds on.

You nod. “Let’s go off into twos like Historia said. We’re wasting precious time just standing here.” Everyone agrees and splits off into teams. You with Ymir. Mikasa with Connie. Eren with Historia.

Historia rubs your shoulder as she passes by you. You smile in response and wish her luck.

“Y/N, I think we should go east. If I’m reading this map correctly then we will surely find the-“ a big clap of thunder interrupts Ymir, causing you both to shriek and jump towards each other.

“Looks like that rain is coming sooner than Mikasa said.” Ymir nods in agreement. Before either of you say another word, the skies open up and starts to torrentially pour.

You both put the hoods of your raincoats up, and turn your flash lights on. “We should make a run for it!” You suggest. A nod from Ymir sets you both running off towards the east as fast as you can.

As you’re both running, a bolt of lightning hits the tree closest to you, causing you to scream and lose your footing. You fall and suddenly you’re sliding down a mudslide that has formed on part of the cliff that you were just standing on. You can hear Ymir screaming your name but you can no longer see her. You’re still sliding so you’re focused on trying to grab onto anything you can. A rock, a root, a branch. Anything.

As you’re nearing the bottom, you notice a jagged piece of rock sticking out from the earth. You shift your weight, hoping you can hold onto it but you miscalculate the distance and end up hitting the rock with your leg. White hot pain radiates down your leg and you hold back a scream. You finally reach the bottom, falling on your back. Everything is silent except for the heavy sounds of the rain. You pause and try to assess any and all injuries. Your back hurts, your leg is in a lot of pain, and you’re cold. This is no time to be laying around you so you drag yourself underneath the cliff side hoping to stay out of the rain.

The rain finally lets up after a couple of minutes and you’re finally able to clearly see your leg. You hold open the rip of your pants to see how deep the tear is. A sight of mangled skin and muscle meets your eyes and you grimace. This is the worst injury you’ve ever had. You quickly unbuckle the emergency pack and administer first aid the best you can under the circumstances. Finally satisfied with the bandage you wrapped around your leg, you take a deep breath and start screaming for help.

[adashofchaosposts]

My thoughts on the new MH dolls

So, my thoughts on the new dolls.

I don’t hate them. They’re not my favorite. They don’t really feel like Monster High. But they’re cute.

I do have to agree that they feel a bit Disney-fied. Like, the originals were pretty edgy and had severe enough cheekbones that they had to be changed temporarily (specifically talking abt Spectra here.) These new dolls kinda seem (to me) like a lot of other dolls out there, just with vaguely monster features - save for Lagoona, who actually does remind me of the original design features.

That being said, they’re still good dolls. Maybe nothing as standout as from when I was a kid, but they’re not ugly. I don’t hate them. I’m actually considering buying a couple of them when they come out, mainly Lagoona and maybe Draculaura. I think they’ll go over well with kids and maybe some collectors. They probably wont end up flopping like Gen 2 did.

I guess I can talk about them one by one here.

Clawdeen

Okay, where are her glasses? Like, if she wears them, her doll should have them. Maybe they’re just not shown in the leaked promo images, but I’m actually gonna riot if they didn’t give her doll glasses for aesthetic purposes.

This said, I’m so glad she turned out better than the prototype. This outfit actually looks like a Clawdeen outfit modernized. I like her hair a lot, and honestly, I wish I could find that outfit in my size. Her nose is a really cute detail.

Lagoona

I already kinda talked about her, but she’s my favorite out of all of these dolls. Mostly because she reminds me very much of the og MH. Those clear legs are incredible, and her hair is so cute. Her outfit is alright, not my favorite but that’s personal taste. I do love her little bag, though.

Frankie

They are not my favorite, to be perfectly honest. I love their prosthetic leg with the little doodles, and their shoes are adorable. I’m not so much a fan of their main outfit or hair, but again, personal thing. I love the eyebrow slit, though.

Draculaura

Not my favorite, not my least favorite. The stockings and hair are cute, and the bangs are kinda growing on me a little. I’m not a fan of her outfit; I feel like it’s a bit basic. The bow is cute, though. I’m also still not much of a fan of the split dye versus the streaks thing.

Cleo

Idk, I just don’t like her design as much. With all the blue in all her outfits they’ve shown, she’s sort of looking more like she’s wearing Nefera’s old clothes. I like that they kept the bandages in the design, but I don’t like how they turned out looking like looses sleeves rather than something she’s actually wrapped in. I do like the style of the dress she’s wearing, though. I can’t really see the headband well, but it actually goes okay with the rest of the outfit. Idk, I like the idea but I think the actual execution of it is a bit rocky.

Overall

Overall, I actually like that they have slightly more realistic proportions. Like, they aren’t super duper thin and overly unrealistic. I still miss certain things (like the high angled cheekbones and whatnot), but it’s nice to see that. They do give off that more cutesy vibe, but if that’s the new direction with this version of the canon, then so be it. They may not be the most Monster High as we know it dolls out there, but like I said earlier, they’ll probably do okay with kids, and that’s where this Gen has been aimed (side note: and we’re possibly getting one for the older fans, I found out today, so there’s that!) Overall, not my favorite MH dolls Mattel has put out, but they’re cute.

Screenshots from this post: https://monsterlover23.tumblr.com/post/691942745381781505/coffin-bean-dolls-this-is-a-review-of-how-the

[ruzek-halstead]

keep telling me that it gets better (does it ever?)

julie doesn't expect one of the worst days of her life to lead to the best.

an alternate universe where julie is a talented tattoo artist, battling her demons and luke occasionally helps out at a flower shop because recording a demo isn't cheap. their meeting isn't the most glamorous, but it's one for the books.

masterlist || ao3 

It’s only when she turns her head to the side and her curls follow, that he notices the black outline of a butterfly tattoo on her shoulder. It’s unbelievably simple and void of any colour, but Luke finds it suits her. Her arm reaches out as she playfully hits the shoulder of someone she’s with and Luke catches more of the ink on her skin. He spots the dahlia first, and her reaction at the flower shop when he thought they didn’t have any makes a lot more sense; it must have a deep meaning to her.

The urge he feels to know everything and anything about her overwhelms him.

The moment Julie's alarm clock starts ringing that rainy Wednesday morning, she knows it can only go further downhill from there.

She has been dreading this day for the entire month, and now that it's finally here, she isn't sure how to feel. She knows how she feels; her insides are turning themselves inside out and the pinch at the front of her forehead signals the start of a headache that will most likely be there for the remainder of the day.

It's only seven-thirty in the morning and her phone is already flooding with messages. They're mostly from her dad, reminding her what today is. It isn't as if she needs a reminder; this day will stick with her for as long as she walks this earth. Other messages are from her Tía Victoria, a bit more aggressive, trying to ensure Julie's presence later tonight.

Julie understands it's all in good faith; she knows that. It doesn't help lessen the pain though.

She's has never found it anything less than difficult to visit her mother's grave. The image of Rose being lowered in her coffin will forever stay burned in Julie's mind, and that was all she could picture whenever she went back. However, the standing tradition was that they all would visit her mother's grave on the anniversary of her death.

Julie visited on the first anniversary. She was only able to stay the entirety of four minutes before she ran to the nearest trashcan to empty out her insides.

She stopped by the second year but couldn't find the strength to leave the car.

By the third year, the mere thought of visiting the cemetery was enough to send Julie into a whirlwind of panic attacks; they were so debilitating that she couldn't even leave her apartment.

At the fourth anniversary, Julie simply opted to not go. Her father was disappointed, her Tía was angry (even though she tried to hide it) and her brother said nothing at all.

Today marks the fifth anniversary of Rose's death, and once again, she's expected to show up. Even if the pain is just as fresh as the day it happened, the expectation is that she'll show up anyway with flowers and say something nice and meaningful.

Julie doesn't have anything nice or meaningful to say because she's still so angry that something like this even happened in the first place. She doesn't see why she has to hide her anger, why she has to hide it for the sake of her family. It should be okay that she's still grieving; it isn't something you just get over.

Julie clears the messages from her phone without responding. She has work to get to, and she can't be anymore distracted than she already is. She jumps in for a quick shower, not bothering to style her hair since it was a dreary, rainy day anyway. She chooses a pair of black ripped jeans, a matching black cropped band t-shirt and her red and black plaid shirt to complete the outfit. Grabbing an apple for the road, she picks up her army green jacket, an umbrella and quickly weaves through the crowds of people on the street until she reaches her destination.

The 'OPEN' sign is still turned off, but she spots lights flickering in the back. Balancing her umbrella and the apple she shoved in her mouth due to lack of hands, she uses her key to let herself in.

Willie is already in the back, setting up his station for a full day of appointments. Somehow people were always willing to get pricked with a needle, no matter how much it hurt.

Their other co-workers, Flynn and Carrie haven't arrived yet.

Julie is grateful for that. After working with these people for so many years, they know a lot about her and most of them were even there when her mother's health severely started deteriorating out of nowhere.

They know exactly what today is.

She doesn't want to be coddled in the way she knows they'll want to.

Luckily, she doesn't have to worry about that with Willie. He somehow just understands exactly what everyone needs, no words necessary.

"Morning Jules," he murmurs, motioning behind him to the break room. "I set the coffee a bit ago. Can you check on that?"

Julie, ever grateful for the distraction, drops her things at her station and rushes into the break room. Coffee is a must every morning, and it's best to always have a fresh pot. You never know when you'll need a fix. After so many years of working together, they've all memorized each other's coffee orders and so, Julie takes it upon herself to prepare everyone's coffee.

It's mostly for a distraction. But every time she thinks of things as distractions, it only reminds her of what she's trying to distract herself from. It's a lose-lose situation.

"Good morning Julie!"

Julie turns to glance over her shoulder at where Carrie is walking in, hooking her jacket on the coat rack and shaking out the raindrops from her loose waves. She immediately dives for her coffee, taking a deep gulp with a sigh of pleasure.

Her blue eyes meet Julie's surprised brown ones. Carrie merely sends her a small smile and doesn't say anything else. Julie sends one back.

"Is Nick coming in today?" Julie asks, turning back to the four coffees.

Nick is their apprentice, currently working with Carrie. He doesn't come in everyday and Julie doesn't want to waste a perfectly good coffee if he isn't coming in.

"No, not today. He gets days off. Anyone know what those are?"

Julie lets out a snort. She spots the pleased smile on Carrie's lips from the corner of her eye. She understands her co-workers are trying to make this day as pain-free as possible and she really appreciates it.

"Jules, your phone's going off again!" Willie yells from the other room. Julie frowns, knowing exactly who it is and what it's for. She glances at her watch, noting it's time to open. She grabs her coffee along with Willie's and drops it off along the way.

Julie once again presses decline, silences it, and shoves it into one of her drawers. She ignores the somewhat knowing look from Willie; she knows he won't say anything.

She can feel it in the aggressive manner of her movements; she's just so frustrated. She's frustrated with her emotions and what she's feeling. A part of her thinks she should be over it by now, so she wouldn't have to suffer through this every year. But she knows that's ridiculous; this kind of pain doesn't just disappear overnight. She's also frustrated with her family. They don't seem to care about what she's feeling and instead solely on what they want her to do.

But then, she's also frustrated with herself.

Why is it so difficult for her to visit her mother? Maybe it would be therapeutic and bring Julie some closure. She knows this, but her body rejects the idea at every attempt.

It's frustrating all around and Julie can feel herself growing sour as the day goes on.

Julie never pictured herself going into tattooing. To be perfectly honest, blood used to freak the hell out of her and in large quantities, it still does. But she always had an interest in drawing. It started with little doodles on the corners of her notebooks, then when she was gifted her first proper drawing pad, she filled it up within days. It was the one thing that brought her joy, so she decided to make something out of it.

Tattooing was still never on her radar. It wasn't until Julie met up with some of her cousins at a family get together that the idea was proposed. After that, Julie furthered her education on drawing and applied for an apprenticeship with an experienced tattoo artist. She wanted to see if it was the right profession for her, and she was amazed by how much she loved it.

Her mentor thought she was adorable at first. She was so tiny, and so bare of any tattoos, but when she started showcasing her talent, both knew this was the right place for Julie. She stayed there for a few months and eventually started venturing elsewhere. That's when she discovered Willie and his tattoo parlour Powerhouse.

He's absolutely the chillest boss Julie has ever encountered. He cares that you do your job and you do it properly. She also met some pretty amazing coworkers along the way, so it was quite possibly one of the best decisions she ever made.

Sitting in the break room during a gap in appointments, Julie idly stares at the ink littering her forearms. She never saw the appeal to ink her skin before her mom passed away. After that, she was desperate to keep her memory alive, and as close to her as possible.

The black outline of a dahlia on her wrist reminds Julie of her mother's favourite flower; she always made sure to have them in the house, even if they were out of season. There was a flower shop nearby that always managed to get them in, and coincidentally, it ended up being the shop across the street from where she worked now. Julie is familiar with the elderly lady who owned the shop, Beverly; she's the absolute sweetest, and continued to get dahlias even after Rose had passed away.

Julie likes to keep some in her apartment as well, so she continues stopping by.

She kept adding designs to her skin as time went on.

Her style is mostly black ink, thin lines. She understands most people get tattoos without a specific meaning behind it, as getting a tattoo is already meaningful enough. But Julie has always been dead set on having all her tattoos mean something to her.

She has her mother's signature on the underside of her other wrist. This one, Carlos and she got together. It's the only time Carlos ever let her come close to him with a needle, even though she has begged him multiple times.

Julie also has a black butterfly on the back of her shoulder. She loves butterflies and everything they represent; rebirth, change, hope, transformation, everything she wishes she could do.

She has a few more littering the skin on her arms, all personal designs, and all done by her ridiculously talented co-workers; Julie wouldn't trust anyone else.

Julie's day has dragged on, and she's still dodging calls from her family. It hurt, deep down in her chest that she's ignoring them, but it hurt so much more thinking about her mom and where she is.

When her phone rings again as she's cleaning up her station after the last client of the evening, Julie moves to decline the call. She stops short when she notices the screensaver is a dorky photo she took of Carlos many years ago; it's her brother calling, and he hasn't bothered to do so in quite a while.

Julie, with hesitation, decides to pick up the phone anyway. She hasn't talked to her brother in months, and she can't decline his call; it would hurt too much.

"Julie," he greets, seemingly surprised she even picked up; he knows what she's like on his particular day. It's like a breath of fresh air hearing his voice, and it makes Julie feel even worse for ignoring her father and Tía's calls earlier.

"Hey Carlos," Julie replies softly. "How are you?

It's a dumb question, but it was instinct more than anything else.

"I'm okay, considering," Carlos responds honestly, and Julie's heart nearly bursts from how much it hurts. To know her little brother is hurting and she has been avoiding him like the plague, it makes her feel like a terrible sister. And that wouldn't be far from the truth, considering how MIA she has been with her entire family. "Are you coming tonight?"

Julie inhales sharply. It's easier to just decline calls to let them know she isn't coming rather than actually having to tell them. "I'm sorry Carlos, I don't think I can make it tonight."

There's an ominous silence from the other end. They both know Julie's full of shit.

"Okay," he replies solemnly. "I just —" When Julie hears what she thinks is a quiet sob, her eyes immediately well up with tears. For a second, it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room and she can't figure out how to breathe. "I would really like it if you came. I need you."

Carlos is so obviously in pain and Julie doesn't have it in her to deny it anymore. She's in pain too, but it isn't just about her.

"I'll be there," Julie tells him, voice breaking on the last word. "I'm just finishing work, but I'll meet you all there."

"Thanks Jules," he thanks her, but honestly, there's no need. "I love you."

Julie hastily wipes at the tears that have escaped. "I love you too. See you soon."

Julie immediately ends the phone call and ducks her head into her arms to silence the sobs wracking her body.

God, it hurt so much.

Everything hurt.

Julie only allows herself to fall apart for a single minute. After that, she composes herself and wipes away her tears. She had promised Beverly she would stop by today, as she always sent Julie some dahlias on the anniversary of her mother's death. She figures she may as well bring them to her mother's grave; her father would appreciate it.

Julie hastily grabs her jacket from the back and storms to the front door. Her co-workers are still in, so she mumbles a quick goodbye but doesn't stay long enough to receive any questions. In her rush, she forgets to grab her umbrella and of course, it's still raining out.

She growls in frustration under her breath. She isn't usually an angry person, but today she's completely out of it.

The flower shop is only across the street, so she quickly makes a run for it and ducks into the shop.

Julie is expecting to see Beverly behind the counter, so she's unpleasantly surprised to see a floppy-haired, sleeveless man sitting behind it instead. She was truly hoping to see Beverly; she always made Julie feel better, especially on days like this.

So, she can't exactly explain the overwhelming feeling of rage that overtakes her.

Luke is sitting behind the counter on a stool, pencil between his lips, brows furrowed together as he reviews his latest lyrics. His head is bopping up and down as he murmurs the words from the notebook splayed on his lap.

He's been in a bit of a rut lately and everything he seems to write makes him want to bang his head against the wall.

The flower shop is quiet and slow, and it's the perfect place for Luke to write out his latest song ideas. They are still three songs short for the demo album they're currently recording and Luke is on a bit of a time crunch. It's a miracle they found a studio willing to let them record their demo album at all, but that's the price of knowing people (or Reggie knowing people; he meets a lot of random people).

Unfortunately, recording a demo doesn't pay much, so Luke helps out in the flower shop occasionally. Beverly is a family friend of his mom's and she's more than happy to have Luke help out so she can spend some more time with her grandkids.

When he hears the bell of the door go off, signalling there's a new customer, he glances up, pencil dropping into his lap. Her back is to him so he can only spot her unruly curls and army green jacket littered with raindrops.

He watches her silently; it isn't like he's trying to be creepy or anything, but usually he can tell by their expressions if they need his help or not. When she turns in his direction to glance at the row of flowers, he offers a friendly smile.

Luke is momentarily distracted by her effortless beauty, but his brows furrow at the obvious distress written on her features. Her eyes are slightly rimmed red, and he doesn't want to make any assumptions, but coupled with her rosy nose, it seems as if she has been crying. There's a pinch in her brow, and Luke can't tell if she's angry or just severely upset.

Neither are his specialty, and truth be told, he figures he'll only make things worse if he tries to talk to her. But she looks so sad, and it is technically his job. How horribly could he mess this up?

With hesitation, he slips out from behind the counter and approaches her cautiously, bouncing on his heels.

"Hey!" Luke greets, his right hand automatically reaching towards the back of his head to scratch his scalp. He has been told it's his nervous tick, though he can't really help it at this point. His voice sounds so loud in the quiet shop; only the sounds of buzzing from the coolers can be heard. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Julie is still gazing over the flowers, growing irritated that there are no dahlias in sight. She spares a single look at his curious expression. His green eyes are searching her face, and she can only imagine how terrible she looks right now. His gaze is oddly intense and Julie breaks away like she's been burned.

Shaking her head to break out of her reverie, she looks back at the flowers. "I'm looking for dahlias."

"Oh!" Luke frowns, even more so when Julie doesn't make further eye contact. "Sorry, we don't have any in stock right now. Not the season."

Luke has dealt with crabby customers before, normally upset because they don't have what they're looking for. He's used to that, and he has a pretty upbeat demeanour that helps him whenever he has to talk down customers. And though Julie looks upset, he doesn't expect her to snap the way she does.

She turns to face him with such ferocity that the ends of her jacket flap against his thigh. There’s a wild gleam in her eye as it twitches. “What?” Though the single word is packed with animosity and venom, Luke spots the hint of desperation beneath. “That’s not possible. This place always has dahlias! They have to be here somewhere!" Her voice lowers into a soft whine when she says, "I need them."

Julie’s eyes flood with tears the more she speaks, and though she realizes he probably has no idea that Beverly always makes sure there are dahlias for her, she can’t help but let her frustrations out somewhere. Plus, she doesn't know him, so it's fine, right?

At the prospect of Julie bursting into tears right there and then in front of him, Luke jumps right into panic mode.

If Beverly’s shop receives a terrible review because of him, she will absolutely have his head.

(Beverly is a sweet lady but the sass.)

“Uh — hold on, just give me a second,” Luke stutters, reaching his hand out as if to comfort her. Julie’s eyes drop down to his hand and he snaps it back and tangles it into the back of his head with a sheepish smile. He’s always been very touch-oriented; it’s a problem sometimes, especially with people he doesn’t know very well. He just can't help it; if he sees someone in pain and suffering, he'll want jump in and help. However, it seems like the only way to help this particular distraught customer is to find some dahlias. “Hey, okay — listen, why don’t I check in the back? I could definitely be wrong.”

Julie’s eyes meet his and he becomes increasingly aware that she’s about ready to lose her bearings and cry right there in front of him. It makes his heart turn in his chest, and he doesn’t even know her that well. He takes a step back to head to the cooler but his hesitation is at an all-time high; Julie looks so ready to explode and it rubs him the wrong way to leave her on her own.

But he figures it’ll be for the best if he can find the dahlias, so he awkwardly steps back to enter the cooler. The cooler is relatively empty, only vases with long-stemmed roses, some ready-to-go arrangements and a few orders waiting to be picked up. He walks through the cooler quickly, checking any crevice for hidden dahlias. It’s only when he spots a bouquet of dahlias with baby’s breath, neatly wrapped in cellophane that he stops in his tracks. There’s a note attached and Luke recognizes Beverly’s loopy hand-writing.

A pretty, curly-haired brunette will be by to pick these up later. No charge. Please be nice, Luke.

Luke nearly snorts at the addition of the note, but quickly realizes it was probably added because of the brunette’s emotional state that he just witnessed. He would otherwise argue he’s a very kind person.

(He isn’t usually wrong about what they have in stock either, but it seems today is a day for firsts.)

Luke grabs the bouquet and gently brings it back out. Luckily, the brunette hasn’t burst into tears; in fact, she seems more composed than earlier (he can’t help but think that maybe it was because his bothersome presence was gone).

“Ah — I’m sorry about that,” Luke apologizes, holding out the bouquet. He realizes the note Beverly left is still stuck onto the cellophane when he catches Julie’s eyes very obviously reading it. He awkwardly snatches the note back and shoves it into his pocket, but when he notices the right side of her lip quirk into a small smirk, he can’t help but feel a swell of pride. “Turns out Bev had this ready for you in the back.”

Julie accepts the bouquet, glancing up to send him a small, thankful smile. She recognizes she was quite snappy with him, and truthfully, he handled it considerably well as opposed to how he could have. But she also knows she isn’t mad at him and he didn’t deserve to be her punching bag today. Whoever he is.

Julie doesn’t recognize him, but he seems to know Beverly just as well as she does. He has a decently cute smile and Julie seems to be drawn to his mannerisms; the way he constantly scratches the back of his scalp or bites his lip when he’s awaiting replies.

She only notices that she’s been staring at him for the last few seconds when he clears his throat and his hand dives towards the back of his neck. She would be embarrassed if this wasn’t already one of the worst days of her life; it truly can’t get any worse.

Instead, she pulls out her wallet with her free hand, but Luke shakes his head. She saw the note that said no charge, but she had been a nightmare, it was the least she could do. “No charge,” Luke murmurs, eyes latching to the delicately wrapped dahlias. “Boss’s orders.”

Julie forces another smile onto her lips. “Thank you,” she says. She debates saying anything else, maybe apologizing but she’s already running late and she doesn’t want her family to think she’s bailing on them again.

So, she turns to leave. Immediately, dread starts pooling at the bottom of her belly and she just knows getting to the cemetery will be one of the hardest things she'll have to face.

At watching her leave after a painfully obvious fake smile, Luke hesitates. He’s a curious person, and he doesn’t like to see people hurt. He always needs to make things better; it's part of who he is. So, he bites his lip and launches forward, blurting loudly, “Are you alright?”

Julie nearly snorts because she most definitely is not alright and that much is obvious, but it’s nice of him to ask anyway. She stops in her tracks and turns to him with soft eyes. “I’m not, but thank you anyway,” she replies honestly.

Her eyes drop down to search for a name tag, but he doesn’t have one. She then remembers the name scribbled on the note at the same time he supplies, “Luke.”

“Thank you anyway, Luke,” Julie repeats. Her eyes quickly roam over his features once again. She hadn’t noticed his sleeveless tank was an old band t-shirt, but at this close range, she could tell it had been purposely ripped and destroyed. The shirt, coupled with his distressed denim pants and outdated jean-chain gives her serious 90s vibes. She decides she likes it.

Luke nods in response, folding his lips in an awkward smile. Her warm brown eyes are softer now as they gaze at him and for some reason, he can feel his heartbeat start to pick up. She turns to walk away again and this time he doesn’t interrupt.

He would absolutely deny that he was creeping on her (he just happened to be looking in that direction) but he watches as she ducks into the tattoo parlour across the street. He finds it a bit odd; it seems like a weird place to go after a flower shop, especially given how upset she looked.

One thing he does know: it seems as if Beverly is quite familiar with this mysterious brunette, and he would be lying if he said he doesn't want to know more about her.

x

It's a fair assumption to say Luke’s life is a tad bit complicated at the moment.

His band, Sunset Curve, was graced with the amazing opportunity to record their demo in a borrowed studio. It was a truly unbelievable experience, and Luke was eating up every second. But as the resident songwriter, it was up to him to make sure they had enough original songs to even record.

It’s no secret that Luke has been having trouble in the inspiration department.

The lyrics just weren’t flowing to him like they usually did. He wasn’t really sure of the reason; he originally just assumed writer’s block. But then a certain event occurred and he started to see everything in a different light.

It sounds ridiculous, he knows that.

He doesn’t even know her name.

But her effortless beauty compelled him, and there was something about the sadness in her eyes that drew him in. There were many things about their encounter that were completely out of the ordinary. Her vulnerability and obvious desperation drove his curiosities wild and even though he’d only been in her presence for a few minutes, he was itching to know more.

So, he isn’t the least bit surprised when he starts adding words to his notebook as potential lyrics start spilling out of him.

Specifically, he focuses on her emotions and the obvious distress she seemed to be feeling. It’s out of the realm of his usual type of song, and maybe it isn’t something he’d pitch for the band, but a smile comes to his lips as he thinks of these passages just for himself.

she closed the door

she hides behind a face nobody knows

she feels her skin touch the floor

she wants to fight

but her eyes are tired, nobody’s on her side

she wants to feel like she did before

she looks into her mirror

wishing someone could hear her, so loud

It's definitely not his usual, but her presence in his life gets the ball rolling.

He needs to know more.

Luke finds himself a week later back in Beverly’s flower shop, this time with her by his side. They receive deliveries on Thursday evenings, so Luke usually stops in to help. He hadn’t gotten a chance to pick up another shift since he met the mysterious brunette last week due to back-to-back sessions at the studio, but this was finally his opportunity.

He hasn’t found the right opportunity to ask; he isn’t even sure what to say, but apparently his actions are a bit more obvious than he's intending them to be.

“Am I about to get robbed?”

At Beverly’s odd, but capturing question, Luke turns to her with furrowed brows. She’s sitting behind the counter, checking off their invoices one by one. He’s unloading boxes into the cooler, albeit slower than necessary. He’s a tad bit distracted by the glass windows.

“What?” He mumbles, stopping for a moment to focus on her words. He wipes a hint of sweat off his brow. For someone with a high level of stamina due to the countless hours on stage, he's quite embarrassed at how out of shape he seems to be from a few boxes.

Beverly peeks up at him over the rim of her glasses. “Well, you keep looking out the window, almost as if one of your dorky bandmates is about to run in and break into my register."

Luke snorts at the mention of his dorky bandmates; she definitely isn't wrong. But that isn't the reason why he continues to glance out the window.

“No. It’s just — that girl from last week, with the dahlias. Uh — what’s her name?”

Beverly's smirk is evident and he nearly shies away from the knowing look in her eye. “You didn’t ask for her name?”

His eyes roll back at the obvious judgment in her tone and he wants to laugh, but she's already beat him to it. “I was kind of distracted trying to make sure she didn't cry at the sight of my face."

"Right, I could've warned you about that."

Luke's eyes latch onto her smirk. "You could've."

“She’s a sweet girl,” Beverly sighed, filing another completed invoice. “She’s had a hard life, sad story, really.”

That certainly piqued Luke’s interest.

“What happened?”

But he should’ve figured Beverly wasn’t going to make it that easy for him.

“Not my story to tell,” she says simply. “But I can tell you her name is Julie and she works at the tattoo parlour across the street.”

Realization dawns on Luke at once. He saw her ducking into the parlour after buying flowers but he never imagined she actually worked there. It didn’t seem like her thing, but he should know better than anyone not to judge a book by its cover.

“Are you going to go talk to her?”

At Beverly’s absurd suggestion, he scoffs. “What? No. I was just curious; I don’t even know her.”

Beverly rolls her eyes. “How is it possible that the male species have gotten even stupider since my time?”

Luke drops his jaw in offence, but she's already slid her glasses back on and started studying the next invoice.

Did the thought of casually dropping by the tattoo parlour cross his mind? Yes, of course. But he doesn't want to do that. He isn't used to that. He's never the one that had to chase; it sounds stupid, especially because he hardly knows her, but sometimes there's just a feeling. A feeling that might not make any sense at all, but it's there and it's impossible to ignore.

Luke did his best to ignore the feeling, but only a mere week later, he would find that it wasn't that easy.

x

"Alright, boys. You all understand how important tonight is, right?"

Alex rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time, as if Luke hasn't drilled the thought into their minds a million times by now. Ever since they secured this gig, it was all Luke could talk about. They each knew how important it was. Yes, their demo was currently in the making but one amazing performance in front of some killer producers, and their demo may not even be necessary to get signed.

It's exciting and anxious as hell.

"I know, I know," Luke sighs, running his hands nervously through his hair. He can't stay still and he can't stop moving or his anxiety will eat him alive. "I'm just so nervous."

Reggie nods his head from the snack table. They each have their own ways of dealing with pre-stage jitters and nerves; Reggie's happens to be stress-eating, and his food of choice? Hot dogs. How he manages to not upchuck everything when onstage is a question they've all asked themselves multiple times.

"I get it dude," he says through a mouthful. "But we're going to rock this like we always do. It'll be awesome."

Reggie's words are comforting but they do little to ease Luke's nerves. This is a big deal for him, for all of them. After so many years of following their passions and trying to accomplish their dreams, a real chance is finally awaiting them just outside these doors.

It's enough to make him nearly puke twice before he makes it on stage, and it only frustrates him further because he never gets this panicky.

He works himself up before he takes the final plunge and finds his way to the one place in the world he's ever felt truly comfortable; centre-stage in front of a microphone with his guitar slung around his neck.

The lights are bright, but he's used to it. His connection to the crowd is instant; that's never been a problem for Luke. He reaches the crowd in the way he sings passionately, surrendering every emotion each song elicits.

He's trying not to think too much; he doesn't want to get too far into his head because he does his best work musically when he isn't thinking, only feeling the music coursing through his veins. He can easily spot the producers in the corporate pantsuits sitting in the far back corner and his eyes try to avoid them as best as possible.

He focuses on the music, on his boys and on giving the performance of a lifetime.

Luke is so focused, he momentarily misses the sight of his flower shop mystery girl smack-dab in the middle of the crowd. His eyes immediately snap back, catching her polite smile as she nods her head along with the music. Though she isn't jumping along like some fans in the front row, she is offering some acknowledgement that she's enjoying his music.

And he isn't sure why, but it sends a fire through his chest that animates him for the rest of the show.

They don't take any breaks during the set; their dedication is endless.

Luke can physically feel how animated the club is, how unbelievably well their show is going. He shouldn't be surprised but the nerves were too much for him earlier. By the time they're winding down for their last performance of the night, Luke doesn't want it to end.

But he's also perfectly aware of the incredibly important people sitting near the back and he knows he has to face them eventually.

They end their stellar performance with their favourite song to perform, so near and dear to their hearts, and also energetic as hell, Now or Never. It's the perfect oath to live their lives to the fullest, as Luke and the boys try to do every day. Today is no different; an opportunity came knocking and Luke plans to take full advantage.

When Luke finally makes his way off stage, everything seems to happen in slow motion.

He can idly feel Alex pulling on his tank and Reggie wrapping an arm around his shoulders, messing up his sweaty hair even more than it already was.

Even when a woman wearing a salmon coloured pantsuit sneaks into their makeshift dressing room to have a quick word, he feels like he's frozen in time, watching from outside his body.

Alex does all the talking (mostly nervous rambling) but the lady, who later introduces herself as Lucy Fields, happens to think it's adorably hilarious.

She tells them she absolutely loved their performance and sees some real, authentic potential; they're young, have a defined sound and a clear talent for writing their own music. Lucy hands them her card, asks for a phone number for reference and promises to call.

When Reggie confusedly asks what this means, Lucy offers them a small smirk.

"I'm going to set up a meeting with my boss. If he likes what he sees, maybe you guys will be signing some paperwork." At their obvious disbelief, she continues, "You guys will definitely be signing some paperwork."

The silence that follows is palpable, but understandable.

Luke hasn't been able to utter a single word since getting off stage, which is highly unusual for him. This news doesn't help his predicament. Reggie starts coughing violently when he chokes on his water, and Alex is nearly about to drop to the ground because what even is air anymore?

Lucy isn't really sure what reaction she would get, but she isn't expecting complete silence. This is rectified when three, fully-grown man-children launch themselves at her, thanking profusely; Reggie even goes so far to plant a sloppy kiss on her forehead.

"We are so sorry," Alex apologizes breathlessly, yanking Reggie back towards his side. "We've just been wait — this is really huge for us."

But Lucy is laughing, so they know they haven't totally ruined their opportunity before it's even begun. "It's alright, boys. This is exciting, I get it. I'll be in touch," she promises before leaving the way she came in.

It's only fitting that the boys can't find any words for a solid five minutes. How does one sum this up into words? Luke certainly can't; in fact, he's pretty certain his brain is short-circuiting because his mind is completely blank.

"What the actual hell?" Alex mutters, quite literally sitting down on the floor where he stood. "Did that just happen? Am I dreaming?"

In response, Reggie whacks Alex on the back of the head; the blonde whines in pain. "Not dreaming," Reggie replies positively. He turns to Luke, nodding, "Dude, you haven't said a word. You good?"

"I don't know what to say," Luke finally says. "This is fucking wild. I mean — I knew it was a possibility, I know this is what we were hoping for but, it's actually happening."

Alex shoots Luke a toothy grin, eyes involuntarily watering with happy tears. "It's finally happening," he repeats. He braces himself when Reggie suddenly launches himself onto him, then groans when Luke hops on as well, laughing heartily.

"It's finally happening!"

It's only when he's distracted, laughing with his brothers on what is quite possibly one of the best days of his life that he remembers just exactly who is currently outside. Untangling himself, he scrambles off the dog pile and nervously tries to fix his messy hair.

"Shit, I have to go."

Alex furrows his eyebrows. "What? Where?"

"We have to celebrate!" Reggie pouts, grunting when Alex pushes him off.

Luke is busy rummaging through all their belongings, looking for some breath mints or even gum. Alex peeks at his actions with curiosity. "What are you — Lucas Patterson! Who is the girl?"

"Shh!" Luke fires back. He isn't totally sure why he does, because it isn't like she can hear them, but it's automatic. "It's the flower shop girl, Julie. I saw her in the crowd."

Reggie shares an incredibly suggestive look with Alex, and Luke can't help but roll his eyes. He finally locates his emergency pack of breath mints and pops three into his mouth. "The tattoo artist? Oh, dude, get your ass out there."

"Good luck Luke! Don't mess it up!" Alex yells after him.

Luke slams the door shut behind him and chuckles; he really should get some new friends. But if things go as expected at this meeting, he'll be stuck with them for life.

He is keenly aware of the fact that Julie might not even be around anymore. It's more than probable, but Luke hopes luck is on his side tonight.

After all, he owes her somewhat of a thank you.

He was in a musical rut before she stormed into his flower shop and nearly bit his head off. He can't explain it, but their encounter sparked something within him and he found himself writing more lyrics than he could keep up with.

Plus, she seemed to recognize him when they made brief eye contact, so it couldn't be a bad idea, right?

(Tell that to his palms that are obsessively sweating as his bright eyes rake through the hoards of people looking for her.)

Luke finds her relatively quickly; she's perched a top of a stool directly in front of the bar. Even though he can only see her back, he recognizes the cascade of curls down her back.

Maybe luck is on his side.

It’s only when she turns her head to the side and her curls follow, that he notices the black outline of a butterfly tattoo on her shoulder. It’s unbelievably simple and void of any colour, but Luke finds it suits her. Her arm reaches out as she playfully hits the shoulder of someone she’s with and Luke catches more of the ink on her skin. He spots the dahlia first, and her reaction at the flower shop when he thought they didn’t have any makes a lot more sense; it must have a deep meaning to her. The urge he feels to know everything and anything about her overwhelms him. He notices some more black ink colouring the entirety of her arm, though he can’t tell what they are from this far away.

He can’t even put into words how good it looks on her, and maybe that’s a little shallow of him to think, but he’s truly floored by her appearance.

He knew she was beautiful when he saw her that first time, but seeing this side of her, this personal side of her; she’s simply gorgeous and he can’t wait to tell her.

He takes a deep breath and fixes his shirt; it's old and ratty and ripped, but it hasn't failed him yet. He has absolutely no idea what he even plans on saying; he never has to think about it, it usually just comes to him.

Luke slides in next to her, flagging down the bartender immediately.

He really needs a drink.

“Rum and coke, please.”

The tone of his voice must render familiar because Julie pivots on her stool with curious eyes and a lazy smile.

“Well, if it isn’t flower shop boy.”

In another world, he might’ve been offended that the only memorable thing about him was that he worked in a flower shop (he would argue his devilishly good looks or sparkling eyes were absolutely unforgettable). But with one look at her tilted head and amused eyes, he's just glad she remembers him at all.

“In the flesh,” he replies, tongue pressed against his teeth to keep from smiling too excitedly. “Though I do think I proved myself on stage; rockstar is a much more badass nickname."

Julie’s eyes twinkle mischievously as she clicks her tongue before pulling the straw of her drink between her lips. Luke’s eyes immediately follow absentmindedly. “I don’t know,” she drawls with a hint of sarcasm, “I think flowers suit you somehow.”

He wouldn't normally associate himself with flowers.

He's all about ripped jeans and band tees; bottomless coffee pots and dark splashes of colour. Flowers don't normally come to mind, but for some reason, the thought that she does associate him with flowers brings a smile to his lip. Clearly flowers mean a lot to her, if the dahlia tattoo is anything to go by.

It also isn't the wildest thought; he does occasionally work in a flower shop, after all.

The bartender slides his drink across the counter and Luke digs into his back pocket for his wallet. His emerald eyes glance at Julie's nearly empty glass and he leans forward to ask for a refill before throwing a few bills onto the counter.

Julie's eyes glance at the new drink and she shoots a shy smile in his direction.

He doesn't know her very well, but from what he's seen, shy doesn't really seem to fit her.

"You're in a band."

It almost seems like a question, but it very obviously isn't. Luke still feels the need to reply.

"Yeah. We do alright," he replies, hiding a chuckle.

If there is one thing that Luke Patterson is one-hundred percent certain of is that Sunset Curve rocks. Record deal or not, he knows it and he'll never give it up.

However, it doesn't seem like he'll have to and the thought brings a smile to his lips.

"You guys are more than alright!" Julie's face brightens as she turns to speak more animatedly. "I have to be honest, I wasn't really for going out tonight, but I was pleasantly surprised."

"Pleasantly surprised because you saw a familiar face or —?"

Julie's head tilts again and his eyes absentmindedly trace her jaw. "Pleasantly surprised because you guys were good and I was having fun." As an afterthought, she smirks and adds, "Plus, the drummer was cute."

Luke's smile immediately drops and he returns his focus to his drink with a pout. "He's unavailable," he mutters grumpily.

But then she laughs and with one quick glance at her amused expression, it's clear she's only messing with him.

"I like your ink," he says with a nod. "Are they your designs?"

At the comment, Julie's eyebrows rise beneath her curls. "They are, yeah," she replies with a hint of confusion in her voice.

"Beverly told me you work at the tattoo parlour across the street," Luke explains with a shrug of his shoulders.

While Luke doesn't realize the gravity of his words, Julie is filled with a rush of excitement. Clearly, he's been talking about her or at least thinking about her. It's especially surprising considering how their first meeting actually went.

But the truth is, she's thought about him too.

It was hard not to, given his kind smile and friendly nature. Though she was stressed at the time, she couldn't help but think back afterwards. She was of the type to think about things constantly, even after it was all said and done. Awkward encounters, stupid things she's said, you name it.

So, nearly crying in front of a cute stranger definitely made the list.

"You talked about me?" Julie asks, revelling in the quick bloom of red that spreads across Luke's cheeks.

Though he's blushing, he seems completely at ease. "I actually asked about you," he admits, taking another large gulp of his glass. He senses the burn of the alcohol passing through his system. "I was curious."

Julie nods, stirring her glass with the black straw. "Not curious enough to stop by?"

This time, his eyebrows rose in surprise. "I would've stood out too much."

At this, Julie's dark eyes roam over Luke's bare arms, subtlety forgotten. She's surprised she even held out this long, given how loose his shirt is. The cutoff sleeves droop low on his sides and she has a decently clear view of his chest at the angle he's sitting. Her eyes automatically snap back up to his face where he's smirking through another sip from his glass.

His arms are still glistening with sweat, but they're bare of any ink.

"I mean, we can always change that," Julie suggests. She hasn't taken notice of how her body has absentmindedly leaned closer to him, but Luke has. If his racing pulse is anything to go by, he's definitely noticed.

Luke lets out a breathy chuckle, gaze dropping to appreciate the tattoos littering her caramel skin (don't even get him started on what her tattoos are doing to him). "Needles and I don't get along too well and I'm sure as hell not about to cry in front of you before we've even had a first date."

Julie's eyes widen at his forwardness and Luke's breath catches in his throat.

But only seconds later, a pleased smile spreads across Julie's mouth slowly and his gaze automatically drops.

"We can change that too."

Luke has mysteriously forgotten how to breathe, but luckily, Julie is making all the first moves. She pulls her phone out of her purse, unlocks it and brings up a new contact page. She hands him the phone with bright, hopeful eyes and he can only take the phone numbly because he's pretty sure his brain is starting to shutdown.

He doesn't ever freeze up. He doesn't panic when it comes to girls.

In any other scenario, he would had had her number minutes ago.

But this. This is different.

It feels odd for him not to be in control but he's weirdly okay with it? He can't explain it, but he'll sure as hell enjoy it.

Julie glances over her shoulder towards the door as Luke finishes up with her phone. He hands it back to her, expertly making sure their fingers brush as she takes it back (see? His game isn't completely gone).

"I have to go," Julie explains, and is that a breathy tone Luke detects? "My friends are waiting, but it was nice to see you again, Luke." Her eyes seem to go blank for a moment and she shakes her head. "Oh — my name is Julie, by the way. Julie Molina."

A grin blooms across his lips. He already knew her name, but he isn't trying to freak her out with that information. "It's nice to see you again, Julie."

Julie slides off her stool and tucks a few wayward curls behind her ear.

Luke knows he shouldn't, but his gaze roams over her figure. But she did oogle his biceps, so they were even, right?

"By the way," he mumbles and curses his mouth that moves faster than his brain. He's up and out of his seat before he notices. "This might be totally out of place for me to say, but I hope you're doing alright. You know — from that day and all."

He's wincing, preparing himself for when she tells him to go to hell or where he can shove his sentiments, but she surprises him. He shouldn't be surprised because she seems full of surprises, but he still is.

It had only been a week since the fifth anniversary of Rose's death but the wound is still just as fresh. She appreciated when he asked her if she was okay back then, and she appreciated it just as much now.

It's quite comical. She actively avoided her co-workers and friends just so they wouldn't ask her if she was okay, because clearly she wasn't. But she didn't mind a complete stranger asking her; in fact, she welcomed and appreciated it.

Obviously Luke wants to know what had her so upset that day. And it wasn't just that day; he can see the sadness that follows as soon as he mentions it now. It's clearly something she struggles with everyday and that kills him. He wants to know how he can help, how he can make it go away.

Hopefully, he'll get that chance one day, but for now, he's still waiting on that first date.

Julie's sad eyes sweep across his crestfallen features and she steps forward. Her delicate hand presses down on his shoulder to bring him closer and she gently presses her lips to the apple of his cheek. She lingers, because she can and even though he just played an entire set under hot, gleaming lights, he still smells amazing.

"I'm doing better, thank you," Julie murmurs, stepping back. Her eyes roam Luke's face; his blown pupils, lips parted in surprise. "I'll message you," she promises, taking a few steps back towards her friends who are staring very obviously.

She has all the power; he doesn't even have her number. But he's alright with it.

It was small and it felt like nothing, but hearing that she was doing better made his heart flutter.

Luke realizes with a start that she's waiting on a final reply from him before she turns around and joins her friends. So, he offers her a smile and watches in mild horror as his arm comes up through its own volition to grace her with a goofy wave.

But she merely laughs before turning back to her friends.

Luke decides he wants to hear that sound as often as possible.

All in all, his night turned out pretty successful. He can't wait to go tell his boys.

x

To say that Luke, Reggie and Alex weren't glued to Alex's phone for the entire next week would be the biggest lie of any of their lives.

Alex had given his number to producer Lucy Fields; she promised to call and now they were waiting hand and foot. They each know there's a chance she may not call at all and any opportunity they thought they got, disappears forever. But they were all choosing to be optimistic.

The anxiety is overwhelming.

Luke thought pre-gig was bad, but post-gig is so much worse.

He has to keep himself busy or he'll go insane. So, he focuses on his writing and offers to take a few more shifts at Beverly's.

And he has no ulterior motive to pick up some more shifts. None at all.

It isn't like he can hide it from Beverly anyway. Not when he has his nose pressed to the glass window every hour to stare at the tattoo parlour across the street.

"Good Lord," Beverly mutters after the fifth hour. "If you don't get over there within the next five minutes, I'm firing you."

Luke whips around to face her, hiding his laughter. "You wouldn't."

"Honey, watch me."

Luke chuckles, detaching himself from the window. He's being extra, he knows. But it's mostly because Beverly's sighs and reactions are priceless. He doesn't need to stare through a window to get a date; not when he's already gotten it.

"No need, Bev," he sasses, grabbing some window cleaner (it's the least he can do). "I'm going out with her later today."

Beverly's eyebrows rise so high, they disappear under her hair. She looks so surprised, Luke wants to laugh. "How did you manage that?"

"Saw her at my last gig," he shrugs, hiding a smile. "You know how charming I am, Bev, it was only a matter of time."

Beverly rolls her blue eyes. "Do you need to leave early to change into a date-worthy outfit?"

Luke glances down at his outfit; his signature black ripped jeans, a distressed white band t-shirt and his plaid jacket hanging across the counter. It's normal Luke attire so he isn't sure what brought on the question. "I was just going to wear this?"

Beverly stares at him for a moment before folding her lips to hide a smirk. "Well, you may as well show her what she's getting."

Clearly Beverly woke up today on attack mode.

Earlier this morning, Julie shot Luke a quick text message. They had been texting ever since the day after Luke's gig, but they were solely feeling each other out, and hadn't made any concrete plans. But it had been a week now, and Julie figured it was time.

Luke awoke to a simple text message from Julie, asking if he wanted to grab a coffee after she was done work. It was the best wakeup call, better than a splash of water across his face. He promised to meet her outside of work since he'd be helping out today too and now he was counting down the minutes.

Coffee was a good start.

It's simple, close to their comfort zones and who doesn't love coffee?

Luke still hasn't heard from Lucy so he's grateful for any distraction.

When the time came, he grabs his jacket, places a sloppy kiss on Beverly's cheek and crosses the street with a grin on his features. He leans against one of the light posts, waiting diligently.

When a man with jet black hair piled on top of his head exits, he hears him yell, "Night Jules! Don't forget to lock up!" He makes brief eye contact with Luke and he seems to recognize him from his gig the other night. He nods his head at Luke, glancing back at Julie before walking off.

Luke swears he watches him smirk before he walks away.

But then Julie exits the building and all focus is immediately on her and only her.

She's once again wearing that army green jacket from their first meeting and when she turns to face him, he realizes she's wearing a distressed denim black mini-skirt. She's also wearing a black crop-top and matching black converse. All he wants to think is if all tattoo artists have a black only dress code, but his brain is currently short-circuiting at all the soft skin he wasn't expecting to see.

It's only when he spots the tattoo located on her upper thigh that he realizes he might have to hold onto the light post for support.

"Hey!" Julie greets with the softest smile. She turns around again to lock the front door and Luke lets out an embarrassing puff of air. Get your shit together, Luke, he thinks to himself. "It's nice to see you again."

Julie debates for a moment if she should hug him but ultimately decides against it. He already seems a little pale, so she opts to nod her head in the direction of the coffee shop.

"How are you?" The words Luke has been chanting in his brain finally make it out past his lips, and he turns to gouge her reaction. His hands are stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans as they walk. The itch to hold her hand is strong but, not yet.

Julie nods her head, smiling. That's always a good sign. "It was a good week. Really busy." She eyes his covered arms. "You sure you don't want some ink?"

"Pretty sure we decided after the first date only."

Julie's intrigued eyes turn to him, amusement lighting them up. "Right. I think we did."

Luke stops to open the door to the coffee shop and waits for Julie to enter before he goes in after her. It's surprisingly not busy, considering the usual post-work buzz, but he likes it better like this. It's a full service shop and by the time Luke and Julie take a seat and pull off their jackets, a friendly waitress is already waiting to take their order.

His gaze is automatically drawn to her displayed tattoos and he nearly forgets to relay his order to the waitress.

"Hey, so, before we get into the first date small talk, I just want to be completely transparent with you."

Luke's smile dims just a smidge. It isn't the greatest way to start a conversation, but he's obviously going to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"That day we first met," Julie takes a full breath, actively avoiding eye contact. She doesn't have to tell him this, but she feels as if he deserves to know. "It wasn't my finest hour. I don't normally snap at employees who are just doing their job, I promise."

Luke nods in accordance.

"That day happened to be the fifth anniversary of the death of my mom."

All the colour from Luke's face drains. He planned to let her finish speaking before he said anything, but he just had to jump in with an, "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," Julie replies with a sad smile. "I've never been good at dealing with that day and I haven't been able to visit her grave properly ever since but my family was hounding me to visit, and she loves dahlias —" Julie's eyes glaze over, so caught up in her own thoughts. "She loved dahlias and I always try to keep some in the house. Beverly helps with that. I just wanted you to know it was an off-day for me, but I do have some baggage I don't totally know how to handle and I think it's fair you know that before you get overly invested."

Oh, but he already is.

Instead of saying something right away, Luke places his hand on the table, palm up. An invitation if she wants it.

"You didn't have to tell me any of that, but I appreciate it," Luke says softly. His pulse quickens when she intertwines their fingers together. "That's not enough to scare me off. If you don't want to move this forward, that's okay, I understand. But it won't be on my account."

Julie solely stares at their intertwined hands before a smile breaks out onto her features.

As if on cue, their waitress appears with their drinks and they begrudgingly let go of each other.

Now that the hard stuff was out in the open, conversation flows comfortably. Julie is having the time of her life, nearly laughing at every other word that comes out of Luke's mouth. He revels in it; making her laugh is the highlight of his days.

Over an hour passes by and they hardly even notice. They're too busy engrossed in each other. Eventually they decide to take a walk; the conversation is too good to stop, but sitting was becoming exhausting.

It's only when Luke's phone buzzes in his pocket that he realizes how much time has passed. He doesn't reach for his phone because that's rude, but it continues to vibrate incessantly and he has no choice.

He quickly apologizes to Julie, who waves him off.

Luke pulls off to the side and Julie busies herself with checking her own phone. The many vibrations are coming from their Sunset Curve group chat, namely from Alex. Luke's heartbeat picks up before he even opens the messages. His eyes scan the screen quickly. Alex's messages are nearly incoherent, a jumble of words and random letters but Luke quickly understands.

ADFAGDJFSHFNG SFFSVVBAAKG

THEY GOOGLEBS US

WE SIGNGG CONTRATS TOMORROWS

They googled us.

We sign a contract tomorrow.

Luke doesn't mean to stop breathing, but he does. He only dials back into planet Earth when Julie gently touches a hand to his arm. "Luke? Are you okay?" She pulls him closer to the wall.

"I —" He doesn't even know how to explain it. His jaw can't seem to close. "We, um  — we met with a producer after our gig. She said she was going to talk to her boss and then call us."

Julie's face immediately lights up.

"That was Alex," Luke continues numbly. "They said they googled us. They want us to sign a contract tomorrow."

Julie's jaw drops in solidarity. "A contract? Like a record deal?"

Luke's neck snaps up to look at her, a smile breaking out over his features.

Holy fucking shit, it's really happening.

"Luke! Congratulations!" Julie immediately launches herself into his arms, boundaries be damned. Luke doesn't mind a single bit, arching his back to lift her off her feet.

He's so happy; he throws all caution out to the wind.

"I've wanted to kiss you since I saw you in the crowd of my show."

Julie's arms lower and her lips split in shock.

The hesitation in her eyes only lasts for a moment.

"I think I have too."

It's all the acknowledgment he needs before he sneaks a hand to cradle her cheek. The sun is slowly setting, but the rays are hitting her cheeks just right. Her dark eyes drop to his lips before they fan closed across her cheeks. Luke sucks in a deep breath, then gently presses his lips against hers, slotting his lips perfectly in between.

It's short, simple, sweet and chaste.

Luke isn't trying to overdo it on their first date. He wasn't even planning on kissing her today, to be perfectly honest. But inspiration and opportunity struck, and he couldn't help himself.

He's pleasantly surprised when Julie secures his head with both hands and surges forward to capture his lips once again. This kiss is nothing like the first; Julie is completely in control, and when her tongue slips into his mouth, chaste isn't really the word he'd use to describe it.

His eyes are easily hooded when she pulls away with a smirk.

And she believed he wasn't invested yet?

"Thought you deserved a proper congratulations. It's not everyday you score a record deal."

Luke swallows harshly, hand crawling into the hair on the back of his head. "Appreciate that," he coughs out.

God, he really needs to learn to be much smoother around her.

As much as Julie enjoys his company and would like to spend even more time with him, this is a special moment for him and it wasn't her he should be with.

Julie lets her hand slide down his arm, squeezing his wrist gently. "I had fun today. But I think you should go be with your band."

An excited grin spreads across his face as he leans down and presses a sloppy kiss to her cheek; Julie can only giggle. "Thank you!" He excitedly taps her nose before starting to run away. He turns momentarily and shouts, "I'll call you!" Then he runs off, leaving Julie laughing.

x

Julie doesn't expect one of the worst days of her life to lead to the best.

But it does.

Luke is infectious. He invades her life so easily and he fits, regardless of the differences.

He understands her baggage and he gives her the time and space necessary to heal. She learns his triggers and recognizes when he needs her and when he needs space. They're respectful of each other's boundaries and it's what makes their relationship work.

Luke surprises her every day.

Sometimes he'll crawl into bed late at night, when Julie has already snoozed off from a long day at work. He'll do his best not to wake her but he misses her all day and can't wait to tell her he wrote a new song. About her. Because all his songs are about her.

When he finds himself in a writing mood, Julie will sit next to him, binging the latest tv show or playing BuzzFeed quizzes on her phone. It doesn't matter what she does, he just needs her there next to him as his inspiration. Sometimes her presence is a distraction more than anything and he'll throw his songbook to the side, pressing his lips to her neck as she loses herself in a fit of giggles.

She's there when their first album is officially released. She's there at their first official show under the new label. She's always cheering him on backstage, his good luck charm.

When they go on their first official tour, she can't attend because she can't leave her work for that long (not that he would want her to anyway, he understands how much she loves her job). It's the first time they're apart for that long, and it hurts but they're mature about it. Instead, they fill the time with late-night phone calls and FaceTime sessions. When he surprises her at home a day early, she nearly throws the bowl she wiping down at his face, then hurriedly jumps into his awaiting arms.

And it isn't often, but sometimes they fight. They're both especially opinionated and like to get in the last word. When it comes to each other, it can sometimes get heated and often they may say something they don't actually mean. Julie loves to sneak out onto the balcony after a fight; the breeze helps her cool down and look at things with more clarity. Luke can't stand the thought of Julie being angry with him, so it never took long before he followed her out onto the balcony. She would quickly crawl into his inviting lap, they would apologize to each other and talk about things more rationally. Sometimes, all it took was the cold breeze and Luke's soft lips against Julie's temple to calm them down.

It's the relationship they've both always dreamed about but never thought they could actually have.

Sure, Luke's fame sometimes comes with a price, but their love for each other trumps everything else.

He eventually allows Julie to ink his skin like she's expressed so many times she would love to do. He gets a matching Sunset Curve tattoo on his bicep with Alex and Reggie; it's simple, just their logo. He trusts Julie and only Julie to do it; he doesn't need anyone witnessing his pain and she's already too far gone to leave him solely because he nearly passes out from a tattoo.

(She also distracts him with soft kisses and no one else could do that.)

When he walks by a jewellery store one day and the pull is too strong to ignore, he knows with one-hundred percent certainty that this is the path he wants to take.

And when he drops to one knee at the most inconvenient of times because she found the velvet box hidden at the bottom of his sock drawer, his plans for a fancy proposal escape his mind immediately. Her hands fly to cover the gasp escaping her mouth, eyes clouding with tears.

Her answer is yes, always yes.

And every year when the anniversary of Rose's death comes around, Luke looks to Julie for guidance on what she needs. It takes time and strength, but with Luke's help, she's able to visit her mother's grave, drop off some dahlias and tell Luke all about the goddess that used to be her mother.

He often wishes he got the chance to meet her because he knows he would have loved her. Every time he visits Rose's grave, he silently promises to love and honour her daughter for as long as he lives. He hopes that's enough to help her soul continue to rest in peace.

At every visit, Julie would wrap her arm around Luke's and lean her head against his shoulder.

He never realizes it originally, but Julie believes her mom is responsible for their meeting, and she makes sure to thank her every visit.

"Thank you, mom," she murmurs quietly. "Thank you for bringing Luke to me."

[pascalscenarios]

YOU & I (Frankie Morales x Reader)

YOU & I (Prequel to The One)

High School/Military! Frankie Morales x High School/College! Reader

Summary:  In 1996, your a Freshman in high school. It’s your first day and a long time friend, Frankie helps you throughout your day. 

Warning: 3 year age gap **Frankie and Reader do not date in high school** swearing 

Words: 3,318

Author Note: A prequel for The One! I thought it would be cute to write what Frankie and Reader relationship was like when they were younger, how they started developing feelings for each other and the young stupid drama they got themselves into. I hope you like it. Enjoy - K

CHAPTER ONE

HIGH SCHOOL 1997

“Alright, say ‘cheese’!” Your mother says holding up a camera, snapping photos of you. It was your first day of high school. You were already mortified as it was. You had no intention of looking back at this moment later in life.

“Mom, enough already!” you groaned standing in front of the front door, covering your face.

“Sweetheart, it’s your first day of high school! You’ll only have this moment once! And you look so cute!” She says admiring your outfit. You wore a white shirt and a floral slip dress over top and converse, a scrunchie in your hair securing your half up half down hairstyle.

“It’s not something I'm gonna want to remember!” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh come on! Don’t be like that! Just one more!” she says looking in the viewfinder.

“Mom” you groaned.

Before she could take one last photo, a car pulled up in front of your house, honking its horn.

“Come on freshie, we’re gonna be late!” Your cousin Santiago says standing up out of his blue Jeep Wrangler. You were saved.

“Gotta go, Mom, bye!” You said quickly rushing towards the Jeep.

“You guys be careful and have a nice first day!” She called from the porch.

“We will Auntie!” Santiago says plopping himself back down in his seat.

You open the door hoping inside, placing your Jansport's backpack down by your feet.

“Wait! Let me take a picture!” She shouts.

“Oh my god, please go! Driveaway! She's been taking pictures all morning!” You tell him and you sink in the passenger seat in embarrassment.

“Mom, please! We gotta go! I’ll see you later!” You shouted as Santi pulled out of there.

He couldn’t help but laugh as he drove down the street.

“She’s so embarrassing!” You groan.

“Come on, she means well and besides this is a big day for you, you're starting high school!” He nudges you.

“You’re the one to talk to, it’s your senior year!”

“Nothing I haven't done before, how are you feeling?”

“I don’t know...a little nervous I guess.”

“Don’t sweat it, High school is just like middle school except it's bigger, everyone's older and things are harder.”

“Gee, that sure washes my anxiety away.” you roll your eyes.

“Seriously, you’ll be fine and beside you’ll have me and Frankie around”

Franciso Morales was your cousin's best friend since elementary school. They’re three years older than you. You had first met Frankie when you were seven. Santiago hated when you tagged along with him and Frankie, but Frankie never seemed to mind. He always made sure to include and invite you in everything they did. The three of you have always been close, but the bond between you and Frankie was different. Frankie has always had a soft spot for you.

Santiago and Frankie still hung out with you when they were in middle school, but once they started high school and you entered middle school, you hardly saw them. They were too cool to hang out with you, who was stuck in the awkward phase of still being a kid and but on the verge of being a teenager.

For the first time in what seems like forever, your guys' lives will align once again. You weren’t gonna lie, it kinda hurt that they stopped hanging out with you all the time, but maybe since you’re starting high school, they’ll no longer treat you as a kid and they’ll start seeing you as mature.

You had no idea when the last time you saw Frankie. You hadn’t seen him all summer since he was working a summer job lifeguarding at a pool.

“Alright, Welcome Navarro...Here’s to the next 4 years in hell” Santiago laughs and he turns into school.

You noticed everyone was hanging outside in front of the school. Students sat or stood in the walkway, the font steps, or on the lawn.

Santiago weaved his way through the parking lot, waving and greeting people he drove by. He parked his car into his Senior parking stall and hopped out. You grabbed your schedule out of your bag and out of the car.

You slung your bag over your shoulder. You walked towards the back of his car staring at your school. The nerves were kicking in. You just wanted today to be easy sailing.

You looked down at your schedule.

First Period | McIntyre, Molly | Ceramics | Building G RM: 209

“Hey Santiago, can you show me where the G building is?” You say as you scan over your schedule.

“Santi?” You look beside you. He was gone. You glance towards the school, noticing he had already made his way through the parking lot, and over to a group of guys hanging around by the entrance, and they head inside. Most likely his friends and teammates from the swim team.

You sigh and roll your eyes. Guess you’ll be figuring things out on your own. You trek through the parking lot and make your way down the walkway leading to the entrance of your school.

As you walk down the hallway you notice the hustle and bustle. Santiago wasn’t lying when he said high school was bigger. Students standing around by their lockers catching up with friends jocks loudly parading around, asserting their dominance in the halls, and students trying to get where they needed to be like you.

The bell rings, and the hall quickly floods with students headed in every direction. You had people bumping into your shoulders and pushing from behind to move. You had no idea where you were supposed to go, and you only had 5 minutes to get there.

The hallway slowly started to clear up as everyone went into the classroom. You needed someone to give you directions and spotted the Janitor pushing his cart.

“Excuse me!” you said to walk up to him. “Hi sorry to bother you, but I’m lost. Could you tell me where the G building is?”

“Yeah, you go down this hall, take a left. It will lead you outside of the main building. When you get outside there should be a very colorful building with a bunch of art displays, that's where you're headed.”

“Thank you!” The bell rang. Oh, shoot.

“Yeah, no problem! You better get going now!”

You give the janitor another thank you and wave, and quickly speed walk in the path he gave you.

When you make it outside, you spot the colorful building with the art displays and fixtures outside. You made your way inside and headed to the second floor.

“207...208...209,” you said as you reached your room.

You open the door walking inside. Students were all seated at one of the five long rectangular tables in the middle of the classroom, everyone was staring at you, even the teacher. You wish the floor would swallow you up.

“And you are?” Mrs. McIntyre asked.

You give her your full name.

“Well...I don’t like tardiness, so next time get to class on time yeah? I’ll let you off with a warning. You can take a seat.”

You heard some snickering in class as you made your way over to an empty spot at one of the tables.

“Alright Class, I want you to find a partner from another table, and I want you to discuss what you did over the summer and create a drawing using the paper and material in front of you. You have the entire class period.” Mrs. McIntyre instructs.

With that, everyone got up and moved around, gravitating towards the people they already knew or people they have never met. Everyone from your table had left. You grabbed the poster paper, and a pencil. You frowned as you noticed everyone had already gotten their partners.

“Come on, where is the gorgeous smile I love so much?” You look over to someone walking toward you. They wore white shirts, jeans, sneakers, and their navy blue letterman jacket, a bag slung over their shoulder. Their hair was short but shaggy and they had a giddy smile plastered on their face.

Your face lit up seeing him. “Frankie!”

“Hey Smiles”. Smiles was his nickname for you when you were kids because you always managed to have a smile on your face even through tough times. Only he and Santiago were allowed to call you that.

“Do you have a partner? He asked.  

“No”

“Okay good” he tosses his bag on the ground, pulls out the chair, and turns slightly toward you as he sits beside you. He pulls you into a hug. You loved Frankies hugs. They were always so warm and loving.

“Ugh, look at you, a Freshie now” he was pulling away, rustling your hair.

“Hey, quit it!” You say swatting away his hand.

“How’ve you been Smiles? Excited, you're starting high school?”

“Been good. Yeah, I guess. I don’t know anyone though. All my friends went to Western, which sucks”

“I’m sure you’ll make new friends fast. You’re a likable person...” He smiles.

“How was your summer?” you ask to pick up the pencil and begin doodling on the poster paper.

He picks up a pencil and starts to draw as well. “Busy. I spent the whole summer yelling at kids and saving them from drowning in the deep end. They all think they can survive the diving board.”

“Must have been stressful.”

“Yeah it was, how about you? How was your summer?” He grabbed some colored pencils, adding color to his drawing.

“It was okay. I didn’t do anything exciting. I hung out with my friends and third wheeled with Santiago and his summer fling” you rolled his eyes.

“Oh god,” he started to laugh.

“Yeah...They made out the whole time no matter where we went. The only reason why I tagged along was because my aunt forced him to invite me to places and you know how he gets when I bud along on things…”

“I’m sorry. If I wasn’t so busy with work, I would have come along to keep you company.”

“It’s whatever. I ended up leaving them to doing my own thing while they...did whatever”

“Santiago man..” he shakes his head

“Tell me about it” you laugh

…

Frankie and you continued to draw and catch up the whole class period. You hadn’t realized how fast time went by until the bell rang.

“Alright, class write your names on the back of your paper and turn in whatever you have”

Frankie started collecting the materials, putting them back in their designated area on the table while you quickly wrote your names on the back.

You pick up your bag off the floor and slip your arms through the strap. You walk up to the front, handing in your poster Frankie follows you out into the hallways.

“Alright, what class do you have now?” He says. He takes your schedule from your hands and looks it over.

The two of you begin through the hallway and down the stairs.

“English with Mr. Hastings is the main building, A, second floor. He’s an ass and his class is pretty hard. You have to read a whole bunch of novels and write papers...” He continues to look over your schedule.

You both made it outside of G building. “Okay, you got Ms. Omura for science in C in the building right here. She’s cool. If you really wanna be her favorite, bring her chocolate...Coach Davis for PE, his class is in the gym. Mentally prepare yourself because you’re gonna be doing a lot of running. Mr. Fox for History in the main building. His class is super boring but easy. You just watch old films and documentaries and he sleeps through the whole class. Oh, and you’re taking French with Madame Keller. She’s in the N building, but I don't know what she's like. I'm in my fourth year Spanish.”

“You‘ve been taking Spanish for the last four years? You already speak Spanish. You’re bilingual.”

“Yeah, it’s an easy class for me then. Straight A’s baby” he smirks.

You roll your eyes, “Thanks for your help Frankie”

“Yeah don’t sweat it. Alright, I gotta head across campus, I’ll catch you later alright!”

“Bye” you give him a small smile and wave.

…

It was lunchtime. You were holding the tray in your hand, looking around in the loud and crowded lunchroom. You had no idea where to sit. Everyone had their clique. You noticed Santiago and Frankie were sitting with their friends.

You and Frankie make eye contact. He smiles at you, motioning with his head for you to come and sit with them. Your eyes widen, shaking your head no.

Frankie furrows his eyebrows, and tilts his head again, motioning for you to come. You sigh walking over.

“H-Hi '' you said standing in front of their table. All their eyes were on you. Some of the guys had confused or surprised looks. They were wondering who you were and why a freshman was at their table. Your heart pounded against your chest. This was a bad idea.

“Smiles, come sit by me-“ Frankie sat at the edge, but slid over on the bench so you had a place to sit.

“Frankie” Santiago says sounding annoyed, looking at him like he was crazy. You know he didn’t want you sitting with him and the guys.

“Come on, Santi it's their first day-”

“No” he muttered under his breath.

“It’s okay!” You quickly said. “I just wanted to say hi, I’ll see you guys later”. You rush away embarrassed and walk away to a nearby empty table.

You heard a bit of a commotion and protest from the guys. You look up to see leaving the table and walking towards you. Frankie sets his lunch tray down on the table, dropping his bag on the ground, and sits across from you. He picks up his sandwich to eat the rest.

“What are you doing?” You asked. You weren’t expecting me to come to sit with you.

He was just about to take a bite, his mouth gaped open “Uh... I’m about to eat my lunch” he says before chomping down into his food.

“I mean like... why are you sitting with me?”

“Am I not allowed to sit with you?” His mouth was full.

“No it’s just- shouldn’t you be sitting with Santiago and your friends?”

He swallows the bits he was chewing and sets his half-eaten sandwich down on his plate, picking up his milk “What? Are you embarrassed by being seen with me or something?” he says teasingly.

“The other way around actually. Shouldn’t you be embarrassed?”

“Why would I be embarrassed?”

“Because you're a Senior eating lunch with a Freshman? Santiago clearly didn’t want me to sit with you guys. Look around, everyone’s staring”

He looks around the cafeteria. You were right, people were staring, even some of the swim team guys. He rolled his eyes. He could care less what people thought.

“Let them stare. I don’t care and besides, you're my friend. I’ve known you since we were kids. I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you. Never have, never will be. Santiago is a dick though. I’m sorry he’s being an asshat”

“You and Santi got your own thing going on and I get that-”

“But it doesn't make it right he did that” Frankie rolls his eyes. “He’s always excluded you from everything”

“I know he loves me though, even if he leaves me in the dust. Seriously I’m used to it, it's fine” you chuckle showing Frankie that you weren’t mad. It was just the way Santiago was with you. He did love you and was protective over you, but he needed his space at times. Your relationship with him, was more like your older brother than he is your cousin.

“...Thanks for sitting with me”

“Well the least you can do is give me your cookie” he took the cookie off your plate and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Hey! I was going to eat that you jerk!”

…

“I can’t take you home,” Santi tells you as the two of you stood outside of school, students weave their way around you as they headed off-campus.

“You're kidding…” you looked at him annoyed. You knew Santi needed space, you understood that, but this has gone too far.

“Look I know I promised I’d take you to and from school this whole year, but I got a date with Jennifer Ortega-” He motions to the girl standing a few feet away, she waves a Santiago, and he waves back.

“Santi, it's the first day of school, how the hell do you already have a date?”

“Worked her with my game... charm and charisma…” he smirks

“Gag me... so you're going to ditch me, and take her out”

“Well, you put it like that-”

“I seriously hate you”

“Thank you! I love you! I'll make it up to you, I promise” he grabs Jennifer's hand, rushing towards his jeep. You rolled your eyes. He could have just dropped you off at home, then went out with Jeniffer.

You headed off-campus and walked on the sidewalk, taking the path that was in the direction of your house.

You walked for a good 10 minutes. You were hating Santiago right now. Your blood was boiling. You were plotting your revenge on him when a shiny red pickup truck pulled over.

“Smiles!”

“Frankie!” You signed in relief, walking over to the window.

“Get in!”

You opened the truck door, sliding onto the truth bench. You were dripping wet.

“You’ve been a lifesaver all day, I swear” you whimper.

“Where the hell is Santi? Wasn’t he supposed to take you home?”

“Asshole fucking ditched me! He had a date! How the hell gets a date on the first day of school?!” you snapped.

Frankie veres back onto the street heading down the road.

“If he does that again, or whenever you need a ride, I’ll take you home”

“Thanks” you slump in the

“I’ll talk to him”

“Frankie, you’ve been doing that for years,-”

“Just let me deal with him okay”

“Okay, if that makes you feel better, then go right ahead”

Frankie pulls in your neighborhood. He drove several roads and made a few turns, then pulled into the driveway of your house.

“I hope your first day wasn’t too bad,” he says, parking the car.

“It wasn’t and I have you to thank for that...You helped me out a lot today. I'm glad I know I can always count on you.” you give him a small smile. “I’ll see you later Frankie”

“Bye Smiles”

With that you hop out of his truck, shutting the door. He backs out of the driveway, honking before leaving.

“Who was that?” Your mom asked. You turned around, finding her standing in the doorway.

“Frankie Morales...Santiago had something to do, he gave me a ride home”

“My gosh, he’s so cute don’t you think?”

“Mom” you groaned.

“I always liked him. He’s such a sweet boy and always sweet with you...” She smiled. “And I know you’ve always had a little crush on him”

“No! I’ve never had a crush like Frankie Morales!”

“Why are you being so defensive about it?” She cocked her eyebrows at you. “Honey there’s no shame-”

“Mom, just let it go! I don’t like him”

“You may think you don’t like him, but deep down you know you do sweetheart.” She leaves you standing outside alone, heading back into the house.

You watch Frankie's car drive down the road until he disappears around the corner.

You didn’t want to admit it, but your mother was right. You did have a crush on Frankie. You started developing a crush on him in middle school. It was a little harmless crush and it didn’t mean anything… or so you thought.

MT // @wifeofdindjarin @icanbeyourjedi @sara-alonso@greeneyedblondie44 @hb8301​  @alberta-sunrise@spacenerdpascal @ryleyrooroo @reader-s-cantina

[writer-k-pop]

Because of a Rude Biker

난 다시는 작은 길을 걷지 않을 거야. I’m never walking down tiny roads again.

Description: You’ve met him and a couple of his friends quite a few times before. But this once was different. And because of a rude biker, and some perfect timing, his true identity is revealed and new friendships are made. Warnings: Reader gets scraped up a bit. Genre: Angst, Fluff, Idol!Vernon x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.7k

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"Here, this is my number." Chuhan said while writing on a napkin. The summer heat was beating down on our heads and our drinks had condensation running down the glass. We both had our phones, yes, but in the moment we ignored the fact for the simple gesture of handing his number to me before he left with Minseok and Myungho. "I'm going to be busy for the next few months so I don't know if I'll be able to get over here much."

I smile and remember the first few times I saw him.

It was a few months ago. I had been frequenting a nice courtyard near a musical theatre that had a coffee cart and tables to seat at and spend sometime in the sun, doodling, journaling, or doing whatever I desired that day. I was doodling the theatre building because it was a cool looking building and I wanted to try my hand at drawing prospectives (it wasn't good, but it was worth the practice). A random guy sitting at the same long table with some of his friends had leaned over and started up a conversation with me. The random guys ended up being Minseok, Chuhan, and Myungho. We started chatting and then the next time I went, they showed up too. And the next time. And the next time. It kind of became a thing that we did. Sometimes Minseok and/or Myungho didn't show up. But Chuhan always did. It never really occurred to us to exchange phone numbers until today.

A pout forms on my lips as I begin to worry about Chuhan and his friends/coworkers.

"I hope they're not too busy." I murmur to myself adjusting my mask as we still all have to wear them. As I do this, it kind of occurs to me that I've never seen Minseok, Chuhan, or Myungho's faces without masks on.

I shrug off the thought and refocus on the small back alley I'm walking through. It's barely big enough for a car to fit down yet somehow the drivers here manage to squeeze through like it's no big deal.

Bobbing my head along to the music playing through my earphones, I don't hear the biker coming up behind me on the narrow road. Before I can register what's happening, the biker speeds up next to me, kicks out a leg and knocks me over, and then is speeding away as my forearm stings against the prickly ground.

"Hey!" A male voice shouts at the biker (who's too far away to care) from behind me as my knee echos the sting of my forearm.

I sit back on my butt and rip out my earbuds before gingerly looking at my injuries. My purse flew off my shoulder and landed a good foot away. My knee is a bit scratched up and my forearm is as well, though small blood droplets are starting to appear.

"Are you okay?" A male with blonde hair and soft asks, kneeling down next to me, and another appears standing on my other side. "Oh, you're bleeding."

"I'm okay, yeah." I say in a shaky voice, the shock of it all throwing me off guard. "I live just down the street, I'm okay."

"You should clean that off right away." The male standing says with concern, "Our company is literally right here, at least come and wash it off so it doesn't get infected."

Against my better judgement- the one that says going anywhere with strange males is bad- I nod. It's just something about their eyes and their posture. Plus, the one who screamed angrily at the biker is still staring in anger at the path the biker disappeared down minutes ago.

"Here, let me help you." The once kneeling male offers me a hand, "My name's Jisoo."

"(y/n)." I tell him and take his offered hand. I try to put pressure on my scraped knee but the sting intensifies and I stumble to regain balance on the uninjured leg.

"Careful." Jisoo warns, gripping my arm tighter.

"Just back here." The other male points to my left. Standing around us and the entrance of a building are 11 other males, all masked, of course.

"Someone come and grab her stuff." Jisoo calls out to the group who is looking at me with concern.

The other guys start to shuffle around, one even holds the door open a few steps before Jisoo and I reach the door. I notice, though, that three guys stand a little ways away, all staring at me dumbfounded, and very quiet. I take a couple seconds to look them over and they're wearing outfits EXTREMELY similar to what Minseok, Myungho, and Chuhan were wearing.

"Watch your step." The one holding the door open says as a warning and I have to revert my attention to where I'm placing my feet.

Jisoo turns his head and says something to someone behind me while I tune him out and take in the interior of the building. The white walls reflect the fluorescent lights and brighten the room. Turns this way and that and up a small flight of stairs and Jisoo leads me into a large open conference room, which looks oddly familiar.

"Sit here." Jisoo instructs me and pulls out a chair. He then pulls out a chair for himself.

I lower myself into the chair and try to bend my knee. Bad idea. The sting makes me suck in a breath and squeeze my eyes shut. It's the kind of sting that's sharp and sometimes causes shivers to run down my spine. The worst kind of sting, in my opinion.

"Here's the stuff, hyung." Another guy comes trotting into the room with a red cross labeled white box. Another brings a bowl of water and a couple of hand towels. The others gather in the room with mumbled conversations.

I pull the mask off my face and lay it down on the table as someone else sets my phone and purse next to my mask.

"Thanks." I smile at him and he nods back.

After taking his mask off, Jisoo wordlessly dampens one of the towels then pats the space between his legs.

"You don't have -." I try to refute his offer but his face silences my voice. For a second I forget how to breathe but my scrapes quickly remind me that I need to otherwise they're going to rain hellfire on my nerves. "You're not just a random Jisoo." I exhale in shock.

Joshua leans back, slightly afraid that I'll start screaming. I look around at the others and slowly piece together the number: 13, and the room we're in: it's the same as where Seventeen filmed their fifth year anniversary idea session. I'm just looking at it from a VERY different angle.

Everyone in the room seems to be holding their breath, uncertain about how I'm going to react. I think I surprised them because I definitely know I surprised myself with my response.

"Okay." I say surprisingly calmly in response to Joshua's instruction for me to put my leg up. "But only cause I have one arm out of commission."

And like someone took the kettle off of the heat, the members all exhale.

"You sure you're okay?" Seungcheol asks, taking his mask off and the others follow.

I nod, my nervousness being replaced with confidence the longer I'm under the realization that I am being helped by the Seventeen.

I nod but the action is cut short as Joshua cleans off my scraped knee causing me to inhale quickly and scrunch my face in pain.

"Sorry." Joshua mutters but continues to wipe away the dirt from my skin.

"It's fine." I squeeze out through clenched teeth. "Almost done." Joshua tells him and continues to clean the scrape.

"So, where were you coming from?" Seungkwan wonders with curious eyes in attempt to provide some distraction from the pain.

"Uhm, I was just hanging out with some friends." I answer him, forcing myself to look way from my knee.

"Was it far from here?" Hoshi followed up.

I shake my head, "It was just in the courtyard by the theatre that's like 6 blocks away or something."

"Hey, isn't that where you guys said you were going?" Dino points a finger towards Vernon, DK, and The8.

I glance at the three and they're the ones dressed the same as Minseok, Chuhan, and Myungho. The room is silent as the three share a nervous look. Then Joshua breaks the silence by ripping open a bandaid.

"We did..." DK trails off, staring directly at Vernon and Myungho. I feel Joshua stick the bandaid over my knee before patting my foot, silently saying that I can lower my leg.

"Maybe you guys saw each other!" Jun comments happily.

"I... I think I did..." I stare at the three avoiding any eye contact with me. The pieces slowly starting to fit together. Joshua reaches out for my arm which I easily volunteer over. "Oh, I definitely di- oh, mother-!" I yelp mid-sentence as Joshua wipes away the dirt and blood.

"Sorry, sorry." Joshua mumbles apologetically.

"It's fine." I breathe out and redirect back to the three who's familiar eyes aren't just from the computer screen. "Chuhan, Minseok, and Myungho?" I question them on the names they used with me.

DK and Vernon just smile while The8 adds a tiny and shy wave.

"And you were going to be too busy to come meet with me because of the comeback..." I continue to guess.

They nod and some members stare at the three in awe while the others snicker under their breath. Joshua just continues to wipe away at my arm which is still stinging.

"And you made up names because....?" I lean forward, trailing off to wait for an answer.

"We didn't know how you'd react to us?" Vernon offers but states it more as a question.

"This is going to sting." Joshua informs me just mere milliseconds before spraying something that most definitely stings.

"Ugh." I groan, "I'm never walking down tiny roads again."

"You're going to have to if you're going to come visit us." Seungkwan pouts.

"Who said I was visiting?" I question, realizing a couple seconds later how that actually sounds coming out of my mouth.

"No one but I know Vernon gave you his number so I was kind of guessing." Seungkwan replies as Joshua rips open a few bandaids to cover up my injured arm.

"You mean Chuhan." I correct him with a smirk.

"CHUHAN?" Hoshi repeats the name, "You told her your name was CHUHAN?" He throws his head back and laughs out loud. Dino, Jun, Jeonghan, and Seungcheol join him while others just smile in amusement.

"Okay but like did (y/n) never question how ridiculous the name was?" Mingyu interrogates me, amused at my naiveness.

I shrug, pulling my arm closer after Joshua lets it go. "I know people sometimes have crazy names and I've heard weirder names so it seemed like a plausible name."

"Okay but did it never hit you because DK hyung used his name backwards and The8 hyung used his korean name!" Vernon wonders with a tiny ounce of whine laced in.

"I couldn't see your face. And the masks obscure a lot of people's visuals." I explain and wave my hand in front of my face to emphasis. "Including celebrities. Isn't that the reason celebs constantly wore them before we were all required to?"

"She has a point." The8 points at me in agreement.

"So were you boys ever going to spill your secret?" I ask, leaning my cheek against my fist.

They all stutter with a loss of words.

"We're taking that as a no." Hoshi crosses his arms and moves to stand behind me.

"Yes we are." Seungkwan agrees and joins Hoshi.

I start to panic slightly at the thought that I might have started a rift between the members but Vernon's laugh breaks that tension.

"No, it's not like that." He explains, "We were going to tell her just like not for a little while."

"It was nice to talk with someone who didn't know who we were." Dokyeom continues while I just look at them in amusement.

"I just tagged along cause it got me out of the dorm." The8 gives his very simple reason. Jun chuckles and gives him a high-five.

"So, you knew I was a fan from the multitude of times we discussed music and yet you still didn't bother to let me know?" I question.

"Yeah... kind of." Vernon confirms, smiling sheepishly.

"Fair." I nod and lean back in my chair.

"So you're not upset?" DK asks, curious at my response.

I shake my head, "Why would I be? You were trying to protect yourselves cause I could've been a crazed fan. Makes sense. I probably would've done the same thing."

Before they can reply, my phone starts to buzz with a call. I smile apologetically to the members before answer the call.

"Where are you?" My friend asks over the phone, "You were supposed to be here like 25 minutes ago."

"Shit." I guess being knocked over completely made me forget my plans. "I'll be right there."

"I forgot I was supposed to meet my friend." I tell them apologetically.

"Yeah, yeah. Go ahead." Seungcheol nods, "Next time, let us buy you a meal." "You don't have to." I shake my head quickly.

Seungcheol holds up a hand, "No, no, I want to. This all happened in front of our building so I feel bad."

"It wasn't your fault though..." I try to reason with him.

"It was that stupid biker." Vernon mumbles angrily.

"Still, you'll let us know if you have free time?" Joshua presses.

I nod in defeat. "I will." I say and stand up then stand slightly awkwardly as no one moves.

"Why don't you walk her out, Vernon?" Wonwoo suggests and I nearly forgot he was there as he was so quiet standing in the back with Woozi.

"Yeah, walk her out." Hoshi agrees and nudges me towards the door while The8 does the same to Vernon.

Vernon holds the door open for me and I walk out holding my bandaged arm close to my chest.

"Sorry for lying." Vernon apologies once we're down the stairs.

"You don't need to apologize." I say, "It makes a lot of sense why you didn't tell me so don't feel bad. Again, I would've done the same thing."

Vernon smiles softly, "Nice to know it wasn't a completely crazy idea."

"You were the one to suggest it?" I question in amusement.

"No, The8 hyung did." He explains, "I just agreed to it before DK hyung could suggest a crazier idea."

"Good thinking." I compliment his train of thought.

"You sure you're going to be okay?" He asks, voice full of concern.

I nod with certainty, "Yeah, I'll be fine. It'll be an annoyance for like two days and then it'll start to heal and I'll forget about it."

"Good, good." Vernon inhales then exhales, "I can't believe a person can be that rude. Especially in broad daylight." He releases his bottled up annoyance.

"Yeah, but without them, you would still be Chuhan to me." I reason with him, seeing the bright side of the situation.

"True, but still." Vernon scrunches up his nose. "You still have my number right?" He asks as we reach the front door.

I search my purse for the napkin, "Yeah, it's right here." I pull out the scrunched up napkin.

Vernon nods in satisfaction, "Text or call me sometime. I'm sure we could hang out more privately before Coups hyung forces you to him buy you a meal."

I smile and let out an airy laugh, "I'd like that."

"I'll be waiting for your message then." Vernon says happily.

"Thanks for helping me out." I say and step outside.

"Not a problem." He replies and both of us hesitate to end the encounter.

"I, uh, I should probably get going. Don't want to keep my friend waiting." I smile lightly, deciding to break the barrier first.

"Yeah, yeah. Get there safely." Vernon reminds me as I step away and he waves back as I wave at him.

I turn around to face the direction I'm walking and quickly pull out my phone.

"Bruh, you will NOT believe what just happened!" I text friend.

"WHAT?" She replies in one second flat.

I giggle with giddiness and my fingers type as fast as they can, unable to contain my excitement. "So I was knocked over by a rude biker..."

[shadowling-guistical]

Sit and Bleed.

Roman asks Remus for advice, and Remus delivers. In his own, mildly disturbing way. Somehow, bonding ensues.

Yeah idk either. I shared this to one of my friends and they said, and I quote, "Hey mishi i love you but wtf? Did remus posess you?"

So like, enjoy?

WARNING: Extensive blood talk, period talk, mild injury, mild gore, and generally just canon typical Remus shenanigans.

---

"Do you think that it's true?" Roman had asked him one day, "That writing is easy? That you could just sit at a typewriter and… And bleed?"

It had been dusk, and somehow, Roman had Imaginationed the setting sun to send it's final rays streaking across his room. From where Remus had been lying, splayed out on Roman's carpet like a human sacrifice waiting for a malevolent god, it looked sickeningly beautiful. The gold that bathed the room, the warmth and splendour, he thought it was just saccharinely horrid.

Roman turned his chair to face him. Remus turned his head. A heartbeat turned into two before he scoffed.

"Please," Remus idly picked his nose, rolling the products he found jammed up in his sniffer into a small hard ball and flicked it off to god knows where. He hoped it landed on Roman's pillow. "If writing were that easy, I'd twist my foot off and feed it to Virgil's tarantula,"

"It used to be,"

Remus sighed, swinging his legs up before he leapt onto his feet with a soft oof. Roman went back to his writing, ignoring the sound of Remus' spine popping when he straightened himself. The Duke sauntered to Roman's desk, looking over his shoulder to see…

Nothing.

Well, nothing substantial .

Bits of writing here, a doodle there, scratched out ideas at the corner, angry scribbles at another…Oof.

His twin must have noticed, because Roman’s tone was bitter.

“Not anymore,”

"Yeah well," Remus muttered, thinking of glittering yellow eyes filled with mischief and a sly smirk underneath a shadowy hood, "A lot of other things used to be easy too,"

"Well? What do you think?"

Riiiiight, typewriting and bleeding. Remus scoffed, "Well willya lookit that. You never asked me before, why start now?"

Roman groaned, "... Remus I’m serious here,"

"Hey! It's true," Remus swiped the paper and crumpled it into a ball. Without looking, he threw it over the shoulder. Roman scowled when he sees it bounce onto his bed, "What's up, Prince stink-a-lot? You ask me to come hang out. You didn't kick me out when I wiped boogers onto that skinned angora cat you call a carpet, and now you're asking me questions? What gives?"

"...it's just…"

God, it’s just this and it’s just that , Remus wanted to pull his hair out already. He wished Roman would just spit it out. Just vomit it out and get this over with. Really, getting his stupid twin to just spew whatever was rattling in that noggin if his was worse than pulling teeth out of a gator. And Remus would know, he tried it a lot over the years.

"I just wanted to be like you,"

And there it was, whatever thing that had been sitting in his twin’s gut like a 5 foot long tapeworm.

…

Like him.

Like Remus.

The Duke of Dastardly Deeds.

Mr. Dark and Disgusting himself.

Roman "Pretty Boy" Sanders wanted to be like him?

Remus leaned forward, far more amused than shocked.

"...You're fucking with me,"

"No, I am not," Roman was looking at him with those intense green eyes of his and woah… the guy really was serious, wasn't he?

Huh.

Curiosity reared it's head, familiar and cloying somewhere inside of Remus'  stomach. Then again, it could have been the extra potent shaving cream he had over his deodorant earlier today. Who fucking knows.

"Why?" He finally asked.

"Because… You've always made it look so… easy," Shaking hands ran through unruly curls, "It comes easier for you than it did for me. Always did. Just— How do you do it, Remus?"

The other twin considered it for a moment.

Had it really? Admittedly, Remus didn’t really notice it. He hummed. Sit on a typewriter and let yourself bleed , huh?

Well. He apparently had a crisis to handle.

Remus leaned against Roman's desk. Lightly, he ran rough, clumsy fingers on a splotch of dried ink absorbed into wood.

The tone that his Other Half (Don't make it weird Tumblr, he didn't mean that way. So put those pitchforks down and back away. Thanks.) had used while gesturing to the stack of papers and feather quills on his desk now morphed into disgust, "it feels like I just don't have any flowing in me anymore,"

"Well duh," long, dirty fingernails tapped against polished wood, "It's because bleeding isn't supposed to be easy, you doofus," He sighed, and Roman’s expression caused him to nearly want to groan and drape himself over the table. God, it was so fucking obvious that Roman really had no idea, did he? "You know, If you wanna go all gross metaphor with me, you gotta at least not half ass it,"

"Okay, but half ass it how? That how the saying goes,"

With all the tact and delicacy of a blunt axe, Roman’s words were cut off.

"Then it's a shit saying,"Before Roman could protest, "Look do you want me to help or not? Yeah? Then good. Just shut up for a sec and spill the juicy details," Pause, "Okay, what do you know about periods?"

Roman stiffened, obviously beginning to not like where the conversation was steered to. Because not even Jesus could take the wheel when Remus was behind it. However, Roman reluctantly let his shoulders relax when his twin brushed him off with an eye roll. Cautiously, because Remus still needs to be handled much like a skunk would.

"Remus— “

"Oh just relax. This is going somewhere. Trust me. And I won't do any shit I can't clean up. Just answer the question,"

Roman looked queasy, but swallowed heavily. He supposed he did ask, "I guess, just what Thomas learned in Sex Ed,"

Hm, he could work with that.

"So absolutely shit! Great! I just love the educational system in Florida. Wonderful. Wish the Nerdy Wolverine was here to tell you. But you only got me so it'll have to do— Should've prepared a whole musical number about it too—"

Remus held out his palms, and Roman sees the skin tighten. It strained and stretched before it ripped into a bloody gash.  Roman grimaced, the other unperturbed. In fact, he daresay Remus looked curious. Like he was mulling over what to say.

"Eh, Follow up— Have" Remus let the blood pool into his cupped hands. A tablespoonful turned into a cupful and soon it was overflowing. He tipped his hand so that the blood dribbled down. Drip drip drip, a small stream of blood hit the floor in splatters, "Have you seen it before? Period blood?"

"What?” Oh god, he feels like he could gag, “Gross—! No of course not,"

Remus rolled his eyes.

"Unfeminist much?" The dry tone was met with protest.

"I'm not!—" Roman spluttered, "I don't go around looking for what comes out of people's pants, Remus!"

"Yeah yeah, but did you know they're chunky though?"

"I— What the fuck Remus?"

"Just...humour me for a sec. So they're chunky," Remus sort of flicked his hand, sending smaller droplets flying. A particularly large droplet streaked across Roman’s floor, "Thick goopy, disgusting— Hey, think of that the next time you scoop out some Crofters eh?"

Well, there nearly goes Roman's lunch.

"Oh god.” He pushed down the tickle at the back of his throat, “Please don't— Just, get to the point,"

"Okay okay. Jeez. The point is," two scarred, calloused hands rubbed together, letting the blood smear, "Is that even blood flows differently,"

The hands raised up, tinged red and both of them marred with an angry, red, jagged tear.

"Look at this shit. See? Not everything that comes out is the same. Some places will drip. Others flow and some? They're chunky. That's just how it is. you can't expect chunky blood to flow as easily as fresh blood,"

Without letting Roman mull on the morbid metaphor, he ploughed on.

"Oh yeah— And blood coagulates. It dries up and turns to scab. It won't stay bleeding forever. It's not supposed to. And expecting it to is just stupid, so write that down with your fancy quill,"

Blinking, Roman's mind slowly caught up with him.

Flowing blood and drying and scabbing— He soon deflated.

Oh.

Oh…

He just watched wordlessly as Remus wiped his hand against the fabric of his outfit. Flakes of dried blood sprinkled down joining the droplets on the ground like some sort of morbid snow.

" And just in case you forget, because of course you do. Scabbing is good. Personal experience guaranteed. It heals things. Plus…" the hand with the cut waved again. Exaggeratedly, mockingly, and even Roman couldn't help but to crack a smile, "You gotta make a pretty deep cut if you wanna bleed a lot,"

Maybe Roman was imagining the softer tone that Remus had let bleed into his voice.

"And if you bleed a lot, you gotta let yourself scab,"

A long, slow exhale.

He had to let himself scab.

"And… You've kinda been bleeding a lot, didn’tcha?"

"I…" Roman swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, "...Yeah...I think so,"

"Been making some huge cut lately to get it flowing?…"

"...Mmmm…" Shaking breaths, fragile and soft. Okay… okay… "Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you… do you think I can… I should—"

Should he stop?

"... Course you could, you stupid bleeding heart…" a hand found itself in Roman's hair, gently carding it. Really, almost petting it, "...But fuck Ro, if that isn't the thing we all love about you, you doof. Of course you can. And you should. In fact, I am telling you to,"

Hesitantly, a pair of arms circled themselves over Roman's shoulder, pulling him close.

Remus didn't mention it when he saw broad shoulders decorated in tassels begin to  shake. He didn't pay attention to the soft sobs that sent a Prince, unwavering and strong, shaking. He didn't care about the way Roman's face had crumpled.

"It's time to let it scab, Roman. And try not to pick at it too much,”

Outside, the figure that had been leaning against the door for the better part of the last 10 minutes smiled.

Heh… Credit where credit's due, he supposed.

He tilted his bowler hat forward and began walking down the hallway. No need to worry.

Who knew that the Duke had it in him.