#obviously artists typically tell you who they drew

[peregrinethegryphon]

Looking at Warrior Cats fanart can be a fun game sometimes because there are so many characters and only so many colors cats can come in, so just seeing fanart of an orange cat, well, that could be any number of characters that are orange, but the vibe of the character being drawn as well as fanon design quarks and what other cats the character might me drawn with will tip you off to who it is. Is the orange cat drawn with a grey cat and black cat? Well, that's obviously Firepaw, Graypaw and Ravenpaw. Is the orange cat small and fluffy and maybe cuddling with a brown tabby? Must be Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw. What about gray cats? Well that one has a flat face and scars so it must be Yellowfang, that one is a longhair with a single dark stripe so it's Graystripe, that one is solid gray with a leg injury so it's gotta be Cinderpelt, etc. The game gets more challenging with more obscure side characters but that's what makes it fun.

The same goes for Wings of Fire but with the additional caveat of trying to guess the character's species as some people like to design their own versions of the tribes, but also OCs are so common that sometimes you're not trying to guess which canon character you're looking at but what species the artist's OC is and if or not it's a hybrid. Fun!

[anika-ann]

My Timid Hello, My Clumsy Goodbye (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, canon semi-compliant?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader    Word count: 8900 (...sorry)

Summary: You’re spending the evening and the night before your wedding with the two most important men of your life.

When the sun rises again, you’ll say your ‘I do’ in a close circle of friends and family. It’s not a goodbye to your old life and it’s not a hello to some enormous change; but you will no longer be a Barton. You will be a Rogers. Why not reminisce a bit? 

Warnings: mention of an abandoned baby, blood and injuries, alcohol, implied possibly rougher sex (nothing graphic) ...mature?, language, so much sappiness... let me know if I missed any

A/N: For what-is-your-backupplan-today 10th anniversary of CA:TFA challenge. Prompts in bold. Thank you for coming up with this wonderful theme and hosting this challenge! Long live CA:TFA!

A/N: Throughout the fic, you’ll find snippets of lyrics from SYML’s "Everything All At Once”. Honestly, the song has a completely different meaning to me, but tearing it out of context works for this story just fine :) When you’re done reading, I recommend the music video. It friggin’ broke me in the worst and best ways. Enjoy!

This is my hello This is my clumsy goodbye I'm putting my glass down I wanna remember tonight

Tony rented an island for you. Clint nearly passed out learning about it and grumbled for days about having a hard time to top that, which, no arguing, was understandable.

It was an incredibly extravagant thing to do, throwing around money that could have been used for a much more honourable cause, but you couldn’t complain. One should not look a gifted horse into mouth – and so you didn’t.

Because Tony Stark renting an island was his premature wedding gift. The fact that your brother bitched about not being able to top that, well, that was his problem. You were certain that deep down, he knew you didn’t need any fancy gifts like that.

Then again, Tony’s gift might have been epically overpriced, but not exactly unthoughtful; along with a private island came a private jet and you being literally flied under radar so no single paparazzi knew where you and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers would seal the deal with your ‘I do.’ So, you were everything but ungrateful to your friend that he succeeded at pulling off such covert operation; and frankly, this place was nothing short of wonderful.

The golden sand was pleasantly warm under your toes as you as you and Clint walked towards the two single beach chairs facing the ocean. Wearing bikini under the baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses on top of your head, because why would you deprive yourself the gorgeous view of the sun beginning to set down, you followed your brother – not in blood but in every other sense – to the seats, allured by the view, the serenity and the cold sixpack in his hand.

You had already had a traditional bachelorette party with your girls – with the team, with your family. Natasha, Wanda, Pepper, Sharon and Maria. The night had been the perfect blend of what was considered typically feminine, dress up, fanciness and wine and gossip, and a fun night out with shots, dancing, karaoke and pool. That particular night sadly was interrupted shortly by an annoying photographer, but he soon understood it was not very clever to annoy three and a half Avengers or the CEO of Stark Industries for that matter.

Clint however… Clint deserved a special evening with you. With the rest of the team in various state of chilling out, scattered around the luxurious small houses and gorgeous beaches, you two were left the privacy such moment required.

Even if the special moment consisted of simple talking and drinking beer while watching the sun set, a symbolic end of one phase of your life – a phase that was undeniably tied to the famous and yet barely known archer, one of the seven defenders who rushed into the Battle of New York to save the Earth.

One of the seven had been your brother, having previously been controlled by the monster who brought an army from outer space; there was no questioning whether you would join the fight or not, no matter how you preferred the latter part of your field medic job title to the former.

Another of these brave people, as it turned out, was your future husband. A man you had met for the first time that day, but whom you didn’t hesitate to push back down when he got hit by a freaking alien weapon and stood up, wanting to shake it off as if it was nothing. Your medical training told you not to let him; and your stubbornness had been just a touch stronger than his that day.

Apparently, Steve found you always standing your ground to be one of your most endearing qualities.

What a fancy way to express it instead of simply calling you a stubborn pain in his ass.

“You’re lost in your head, Twinkie,” Clint hummed, playfully nudging your ribs with an elbow, bringing you back to the present.

Your nose automatically scrunched at the childhood nickname.

“You gotta stop calling me that, Bobo,” you retorted, a grin spreading on your face as it was his turn to grimace.

You knew it was nothing but an act and that he in fact loved that nickname, because it held so much sentiment, so many memories… as did his endearment for you.

Bobo had been your first word or so Clint always claimed. Obviously, you wouldn’t remember.

You wouldn’t remember your parents, having been only two days old when your mother left you with a damn circus which was in your hometown at the time. You couldn’t recall how you wouldn’t stop crying until you heard a seven-year-old Clint humming a lullaby for you, with silly replacements of lyrics that always made you laugh later on when you could understand them.

How he started calling you Twinkie, because he was a sugar addict and apparently, you were sweet and small and he liked you; so much that he soon appointed himself to be your brother, your bro, your Bobo.

Once you were older and learned that your involuntary nickname for him also meant ‘crazy’ in Spanish, you were sold to that Bobo endearment forever.

Including the night before your wedding.

“You keep zoning out on me, Kid. Getting cold feet?” Clint hummed, casually handing you a can of beer, opening it up for you.

You automatically reached out and took a sip, eyes fixed on the warm colour on the horizon. What a ridiculous question… but kind and caring, with a hidden promise of getting you out of here if you just asked. Your amazing, protective, crazy brother.

You couldn’t but smile widely, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“You offering to kidnap the bride, Clint? I’d like to see you try. You were always better at trapeze than at being an escape artist.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. These are amateurs. I bet I could pull it off.”  

That drew a laugh from you.

“Are you calling the Avengers amateurs? Better yet, are you calling your wife an amateur?” you teased him, watching his face lose colour when he realized that he did exactly that. You leaned over and patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, Bobo. I won’t tell Nat.”

Clint visibly relaxed, but a shadow of worry twisting his expression.

“Seriously though. Where’s your head at, Kid?”

You just shrugged, smile resting on your lips as you wondered if you ever felt so relaxed. It went along well with the reminiscing of the past and despite the fact that tomorrow was a big day and you should probably be nervous, you weren’t. Not in the slightest, more like the opposite. You were giddy even; it dawned to you that nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

No moment in your life offered you such serenity to your heart, your shoulders free of any weight, body light as air.

“Just taking a trip down the memory lane. Thinking about how lucky I was to be dropped at your circus of all circuses of the world,” you grinned at Clint, your tone remaining completely serious.

Because you were being serious – words couldn’t express how grateful for everything that led to this moment you were. How grateful you were to your brother for watching over you, making sure you would always see the light of a new day, guiding you when you found yourself in a dark.

Clint didn’t react beside his fingers twitching and you knew he was giving you the chance to say what you needed to say.

“About how you taught me pretty much everything I know. About how while I might not be the best person in the world, my brother, who is the best brother ever, made me into a decent person and I owe him everything I am. And how I should probably feel guilty for tying myself to another guy who just swept in and whisked away your little sister.”

Clint stared at you, gulping as his eyes gradually filled with tears. You found yourself in a very cheesy moment, bordering on absurd and it was almost too much to handle – but Clint took a deep breath, cleared his throat and swallowed his tears.

“Well, that bastard did steal my greatest life achievement with way too little effort,” he remarked, voice cracking slightly, the image of him causing your eyes to burn as well even if his words made you both tear up and burst out laughing.

“Dammit, Clint, stop making me laugh and cry at the same time…”

“You started it!” he pointed his index finger at you accusingly, taking a large sip of his beer to drown his sentiment. “But for the record, you should not feel guilty. It’s not like you’re leaving me.”

“I know, but-“

“And if you were, you’d be leaving me in good hands.”

“That’s true, Natasha does have a grip on you and might keep you outta trouble-“

“She’s the one who gets me into trouble half of the time!” Clint cried out in protest and you would have argued if it wasn’t the truth.

But before he had met her, Clint was able to make up his own trouble just fine – he was more than half of a reason why while doing a bit of trapeze yourself, you also grew interested in medical care. Because who else than the little sister should treat her big brother’s wounds when he got too crazy?

“In all seriousness, I’m proud of you, Twinkie,” he said sincerely, one corner of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “You’re entirely entitled to have your own life and if there’s one guy in this whole damn world I’m willing to trust to have you… well, I guess it’s that big blond dumbass.”

“He can be a bit dumb of ass occasionally, can’t he?” you mused lovingly. “I guess it’s right what they say… we do pick our partners similar to our parents, maybe not only in looks. I didn’t really have a dad, I had you, so…”

Clint sighed, smile widening, before it slipped from his face as he caught up on the not-so-hidden insult.

“Hey!”

You couldn’t but laugh at his shocked expression, accidently spilling a splosh of beer on the sand.

“Just… maybe make sure that even married, you still find time to hang out with your big dumb of ass brother every once in a while?” Clint suggested, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

Your whole demander softened, a little pang of guilt stinging in your heart as he took your words too seriously – and at his worry.

“Clint… I will always find time for my amazing brother.”

“Well, you’re marrying a pretty amazing guy too, so, you know, I understand the dilemma…”

You snorted when he seemed to genuinely fawn over your future husband, shaking your head before downing the rest of your drink.

“As amazing as Steve might be – and gosh, he is, don’t get me started – you still own a pretty big chunk of my heart.”

“Good. You are a Barton at heart,” Clint hummed, pretending that a few tears didn’t roll down his cheeks, leaning towards you as his expression once again grew serious.

Your chest tightened. Oh no. He was gonna say something to make you cry too – as if you already weren’t at verge of crying, emotions bubbling under the surface.

“Clint-“ you warned him silently, but he spoke up anyway and you gulped, bracing yourself.

“Just… whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect housewife, but a good woman.”

That was not what you were prepared for, as touching as the sentiment was.

You burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at your stomach as it actually hurt with the sudden clench. Tears did spring from your eyes, a perfect blend of touched and infinitely amused at your brother’s words.

“Har, har, that’s what I get from trying to speak from heart…” Clint muttered grumpily and you willed yourself to calm your hitching breaths as you looked at him, the pout of his mouth causing you to cackle again.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I am moved, I really am. Thank you. But me? A perfect housewife? And you realize I’m marrying Steve Rogers, right? The epitome of a good man? He would probably threaten to sock me in a jaw if I tried to change into something I’m not just for his sake and actually sock me in my jaw if I turned into a bad woman.”

Clint’s eyebrows jumped, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s a lot of punching.”  

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, reaching for another can, pausing when a thought occurred to you. “Just so we’re clear, I might turn into a bit of a housewife when we have kids, alright? And I want to be a good wife, a good partner to Steve, which is what I’m trying to do even now.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, wouldn’t expect anything less. But… just promise me you’ll stay you and that you’ll keep giving him a run for his money, keep him on his toes a bit,” Clint shrugged with a grin, drawing another chuckle from you.

You saw his point – and you fully intended to keep Steve on his toes. You had a good reason to believe that your future husband enjoyed when you did.

“Oh Clinton… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nodded contentedly, picking up another beer and raising it for a toast, his can clinking with yours.

“Cheers to that!”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you then, a quiet joy wrapped in one moment; the sun ending its quest, the warm breeze in your hair, the waves whispering of a journey you were about to take off to. And all that with a wordless comforting presence of your family, ready to offer you a shelter if a storm rocked your boat and the wind caused you to lose course.

As your mind wandered, you had to laugh at yourself – it was almost as if you were raised by pirates and not circus performers. Perhaps it was the little bit of free cheeky spirit these life journeys had in common what brought the metaphor to your mind. It was a bit like working with the Avengers too, always on a road, adrenaline in your veins even as you mostly stayed on the jet, ready to assist them… yet here you were pondering that maybe, you were yearning for settling down a bit more.

“Cap wouldn’t punch you anyway, right?” Clint remarked, breaking the silence and you blinked yourself back into reality, taking a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Oh. Right. Steve punching you if you changed yourself significantly for his benefit.

You smiled softly, heart swelling in affection when the answer to that question appeared obvious.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Good. He’d try once and I’d put an arrow straight between his eyes,” Clint promised darkly, almost causing you to choke at the sudden violent note. He quickly fixed it with a ramble, lightening the atmosphere yet again. “Minus training of course. He’s allowed to try in order to improve your hand-to-hand. Not that he would ever land a hand on you anyway. Always so soft on you…” he grinned, seemingly alright with that attitude if not slightly calling the big strong supersoldier out.

Oh you could be cheeky too alright if that was what your brother wanted.

“That you know of.”

A confused huh was the only reaction you got – that and a puzzled look.

“He’s always soft on me,” you repeated Clint’s words, turning to him, lips slowly spreading in a wicked smirk. “That you know of.”

Clint’s brows furrowed for a short moment and then his features twisted in a disgusted grimace, face growing a tint crimson.

“Gross!” he complained, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “You know what, I changed my mind. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying him. I’m kidnapping the bride and never returning her, locking her somewhere far far away-“

You snorted at his indignation, your grin undoubtedly battling the one of the Cheshire cat.

“No will do, Bobo. I’m marrying Steve and you can’t stop me.”

This time, Clint didn’t even protest, eyes misted over, nose still scrunched at the mental image, lamenting as the night slowly settled over the paradise-like island.

“Oh god, please help, I can’t unsee it, can’t unhear it--- ew-”

Your laughter was carried away by the breeze as Clint seemed to be unable to look at you.

You swung your beer around, thinking that yes – nothing quite ever felt so right as being here in this moment. Relaxing with your brother, teasing him relentlessly and counting down hours to when you’d say ‘I do’ to the only man who in your eyes ever battled the mantle of the best man in the universe.

In one unending moment You fall within my reach I'm close enough to whisper Hold on to me Hold on to me

You weren’t sure what time it was when you snuck into the beach house, one of few, which had been wisely chosen to be occupied by you and Steve only. You attempted to be quiet and liked to think you succeeded, in your even barely tipsy state, but your effort turned out to be in vain as you found Steve perched against headboard of your bed; reading a book, thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts on display as the soft sheet had been kicked away, scrunched up by his feet.

He was gorgeous – he was gorgeous and yours, a momentary picture perfect of peace, appearing to feel just as light as you did and somehow the dullness of the moment, just him relaxing in bed with a good read as you came home… it was more alluring than one would think.

Steve looked up from the book when you wavered in the doorway, soft lopsided smile spreading on his face.

God, that smile. It might be over two years since you saw it for the first time, but it could still make you weak in your knees.

And somehow, it was now even more charming now than the day you met, more tender than just before you kissed for the first time, sweeter than when he proposed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you, appreciative gaze roaming your figure and the little too much skin on display – something you regretted when the warm sunrays had bid you goodbye, raising goosebumps. And Steve, the attentive man he was, noticed, his smile earning a teasing edge. “You look a bit cold in there.”

You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out.

“And you look pretty cosy in there. Thought you’d be either asleep or with Bucky.”

Steve shrugged, not letting go of his unfinished chapter just yet, knowing you had a routine to go through before joining him.

“Maybe I missed you. Maybe Bucky is an old man and needs his sleep.”

You chuckled, not rising to the bait – you knew what would follow if you dared to say Steve was just as old. Not that you would complain about Steve trying to convince you about the opposite. You could never.

“Well, I bet he still made you a promise of breaking a bone of mine or two if I ever hurt you. He’ll find energy for that, centenarian or not,” you hummed nonchalantly as you bounced off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom and leaving Steve puzzled by your remark.

“How did you know?” he called out after you, endearingly confused.

“That’s what big brothers do, love!”

Short silence was your answer as you reached for your toothbrush and begun your nighty ritual.

Steve must have figure out what did it mean for him, considering you had a protective brother of your own, because a moment later, his half-amused “noted!” reached your ears.

You chuckled and shook your head, smile spread on your face which you didn’t think could be erased as long as you were in this paradise – free of worry, full of joy. And why wouldn’t you be? You were about to marry one of the smartest, kindest, sassiest and most beautiful men that ever walked the Earth. What was not to love?

You couldn’t but let your mind wander again; if you had only known the day you met, right from that moment, that you’d end up here…. well. It felt a little surreal, knowing that by this time tomorrow, you’d be Steve’s wife; then again, Steve’s life story was surreal enough on its own.

Who would have thought that the stubborn handsome man in the ridiculous suit and you, equally stubborn about you at least checking on the wound upon half-dragging him to a quiet corner in a middle of a battlefield, would grow so close?

It hadn’t been simple. Steve wasn’t the most open guy and while friendly enough, he wasn’t exactly offering his heart on his sleeve, not to strangers. But it hadn’t been too hard, once you were meeting on regular basis. Piece by piece he revealed his true colours and soon after he did… you started falling; hard and fast.

Not necessarily swooning, not on the outside at least; you were a professional, after all. The safety and the well-being of the team was your priority.

It was just too bad – or the best thing, you supposed – that Steve had the same goal as you with one significant difference; as far as he was concerned, the responsibility to look after his team sometimes excluded him.

Oh, was he wrong about that.

And boy, did you let him know you thought so. You still kept proving him wrong to this day and was planning on nurturing his own acknowledgement of his self-worth till your last breath…

“Get your ass in here, Steve!” you called out after him, slowly losing patience as you had tried asking politely the previous two times with no result but being dismissed.

The change of tone and language made his head snap to you from where he was talking to Sam, an offended scowl on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t be a stubborn jerk and get your ass in here so I can clean your cuts.”

A few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him like that; to the great legend, Captain America. At least you certainly wouldn’t have called him his first name and maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little less crass. But now? He might be Captain America still, a hero who deserved all the good things for the sacrifices he made for the world’s safety, but first and foremost, he was just Steve to you.

A colleague, a teammate, a friend. You might not be a part of the team per se, not the way Clint, Natasha or Steve were, but you still belonged. And you were all friends.

Friends irritated each other sometimes and frankly, Steve was often battling with Tony for the mantle of the most infuriating one.

Friends also needed to call each other out on their bullshit by any means necessary when the time was right and now the time was as good as any.

Usually, Steve slipped through your fingers, because he was a supersoldier and the others weren’t, so their injuries took precedence; today, it was only Natasha, Sam and Steve, and the captain was the only one whom you hadn’t checked yet. And you knew there were things to check, the trickle of blood from his eyebrow probably the least of your concerns.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Steve. She can be pretty stubborn. Clint wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Natasha supported you from the pilot seat and you fought yourself so you wouldn’t grin at her in victory – it would only irritated Steve further. “She’s almost as bull-headed as you are.”

At that, your smile would have slipped. But honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve grunted, sparing Sam another glance and when the Falcon himself beckoned to you as well, wordlessly asking Steve to get himself checked up.

The captain sighed irately, but made his way back to the separate and well-lit space of your examination room.

He didn’t try to hide his annoyance – in fact, he squared his shoulders and his steps sounded a bit loud for anyone to believe it was a coincidence. Also, the scowl of exasperation never left his otherwise handsome face.

“This is completely unnecessary. A stupid waste of time,” he hissed as he walked past you and you took a deep calming breath, exchanging an eyeroll with Sam before you disappeared from sight.

“Captain. I respect you and your position, but you say one more time that my job here is unnecessary and stupid, you’ll be looking for a new medic,” you retorted as he stripped the upper part of his uniform angrily, revealing his white-tank-top-clad torso.

Well, at least the fabric used to be white – now a blood stain the size of both of your palms was seeping into the material at Steve’s right side, gushing from what definitely appeared to be a knife wound.

You were gonna murder him one of those days... unless he got killed himself first.

“Seriously?!”

“It’s just a graze-” he started to argue but you cut him off when you tore the fabric away. He winced as some of the dried blood had acted as a glue, having stuck the cloth into the wound, and now was violently ripped off.

“Tr to insinuate again that I’m incompetent at recognizing what’s just a graze, Steve. I dare you. This is a cut wide and deep enough for stitches! Haven’t you had the serum, you could have been bleeding out to death on this table!”

“But I do have it-“

“Or for fuck’s SAKE, stop being a baby and let me treat the bloody gash in your right mesogastric area! The serum accelerates your healing, but it doesn’t make you invincible OR immortal as far as I know--- Jesus fucking Christ-!”

He bristled, taking a deep breath to fight back, but he never got the chance, because you started working and the words died in his throat. Surprisingly, inspecting the damage, poking around a knife wound that might have already begin to seal itself thanks to Erskine’s formula but had not been just a graze hurt and coincidentally, it pulled the rug from under his feet.

To his credit, Steve barely even hissed at the pain.

“Just so you know, I’ll be using the disinfection that stings worse,” you noted, voice dripping venom, because you were genuinely done with Steve’s bullshit.

You lied through your teeth though. You wouldn’t. No matter how infuriating Steve was and how difficult he made your life ��� causing you to fall for his stupid martyr ass and pine after him among other things – you would never purposely hurt him.

And he must have sensed that, because your remark didn’t earn you a murderous glare or a retort – much to your surprise.

In fact, Steve fell entirely quiet, watching you work without protest, not even objecting when you applied enough local anaesthetic to knock out an elephant and sewed the tissue together so it healed easier. He let you inspect the rest of his torso and bandage his ribs, vigorously shaking his head when you asked him if he was injured anywhere below the waist.

He observed you as you kept an eye on his face for any minute sign of pain he’d be hiding, but all you could see were his irises, startlingly bright blue, pools of honesty and something you had trouble decoding. He seemed… humbled almost. It silenced the anger inside you, the flames of rage – and fear for his well-being, if you were being honest with yourself – turning into a barely smouldering pile of ash.

When you moved on to his head, gently pushing away the strands which obscured the gash on his eyebrow, his eyelids slid shut. You knew how unpleasant facial injuries were, especially around one’s eyes and so you took care to be extra careful as you cleaned the wound and the area surrounding it, most definitely not using the stingy disinfectant.

Not that Steve could get an infection as far as you knew. It was more force of a habit than anything else… and it made you feel better. He had this idiotic mask of an invincible hero he put up sometimes and it drove you insane, because you knew he was only human, a beautiful kind soul, but god, could he be an ass.

“Almost done,” you whispered soothingly when you noticed his jaw tightening as you had to apply a bit more pressure to get a tiny piece of gravel from the cut. You certainly didn’t want that to stay under the newly healing skin.

The moment you retreated with the bloody gauze, Steve’s eyes were back on you, wide and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, a genuine apology that sounded almost absurd after you two were hissing at each other like damn hellcats. “I didn’t mean to--- I’m sorry for being rude and ungrateful. Thank you for taking care of my injuries.”

One glance into those deep irises and benign hesitant smile and you were done for. How could you stay mad at him? Well, you were still mad at him for the absolute disregard of his own health, but… well. You also understood he felt like he needed to stay strong for the team and put them first and how he actually was in pain.

Pretty much everyone was a pain in the ass when in pain.

You sighed as you searched for few band-aid strips to cover the cut.  

“It’s alright, Steve. I’m used to old men being grumpy and not meaning things they say when they are,” you offered lightly and he hung his head with a chuckle, clearly not taking the old man remark personally – and understanding you were referring to your brother.

His smile was wider when he looked up again. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

You shrugged, carefully slipping two fingers under his chin to angle his face so you could stick the strips over the wound.

“Well, I deserve it sometimes. I don’t mean to… to be overbearing and make you feel like you’re incompetent or something,” you added hesitantly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip as the tone you’d been handling him with caught up with you. Perhaps you could have been nicer.

You smoothened the stripes of band-aid, gulping as you felt Steve’s gaze boring into your face while you continued.

“I know you’re not incompetent. You’re very capable, you’re the best. It’s just… I still--- worry- for all of you. For the full-time Earth’s mightiest heroes. Silly, huh?” you muttered self-depreciatingly and when your eyes met, you were startled by the intensity he watched you with as you laid your fears bare in front of him, leaving you vulnerable. You swiftly looked away and dropped your hands. “Here, almost as good as new.”

A lump grew in your throat as you stripped your gloves, tossing them into the bin. Did you reveal too much? Didn’t it sound silly indeed as you said it out loud? Yes, you were all friendly with each other, but you were supposed to be a professional, focused on your task, not getting distracted by-

-by Steve gently grasping your wrist, causing your heart to skip a startled beat. Definitely not getting weak in the knees when you shot him a surprised glance and he just… brought your hand to his face, lips briefly skimming over your knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Lord have mercy with me.

“Don’t you ever apologize for caring. Don’t stop caring. Silly is the last thing I’d call it.”

Your cheeks felt like set on fire, stomach fluttering as well as your heart. You could feel the ghost of Steve’s lips on your skin, sending your heartrate sky-high, causing your head to spin a bit, your body hot all over.

Did he really—did he just-? And did it mean that… did it mean anything at all?

He let go of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, but held your gaze adamantly as he gave you a sad smile and rose to his feet, clearly ready to leave.

You, on the hand, stood there frozen, mind racing.

Why had he done that? Was he really just trying to express gratitude and say sorry for his previous behaviour? Because that was not the way it was supposed to be done, because such tenderness left you entirely bewildered. Was he trying to tell you he was somehow interested in something more than friendship? Was he just high from the anaesthetic, mind you, local one that was not supposed to mess with his brain? Was there any sign of a head injury you missed?

“Thank you, again,” he whispered softly, moving to sidestep you and your hand instinctively shot out, latching onto his forearm… gently.

You gulped, heart stuttering when he glanced at you, puzzled.

One part of you wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment at your unwitting reaction. Another part of you observed him so closely that you would swear that there was another emotion in his eyes and it was neither apology nor gratitude. You wistfully hoped for longing, the same longing you felt when you were near him, sometimes distant and barely there, other times so acute it hurt.

With your stomach somersaulting in doubt, you willed yourself to raise your free hand slowly, purposely giving him a chance – Lord, please, don’t let him take it – to stop you before your palm settled on his cheek.

You were certain you experienced a small cardiac arrest when Steve not only didn’t avoid the touch, but actually leaned into it, gaze fixed on your face, eyes brighter and softer than you ever remembered seeing. Your gaze flickered to his mouth deliberately, throat turning dry. Too daring? He kissed you knuckles, surely you could reciprocate some affection?

Swallowing against your dry throat, you leaned in before you could change your mind and dropped the briefest peck to his lips, causing his eyelids to flutter shut.

Oh no. Oh no no no no, you totally crossed a line-

You went to retreat your hands from him, but the second you moved, his eyes were snapping open, hand covering yours on his face to keep it there, the other cradling your face and then there was a warm and soft sensation on your own lips as he seized them with his.

Your mind went completely blank save two single thoughts: Steve is kissing me. I really like that.

A small sound escaped you, a blend of surprise and contentment, breaking you from your trance and turning you into an actual participant of the pleasant and entirely unexpected activity.

You drew in a small breath, head spinning from the scent of Steve’s shampoo, disinfectant, sweat and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on and not caring.

He tasted faintly of blood, but otherwise was nothing but sweet as his lips caressed yours, gently tugging at your lower lip and then the upper, the lightest graze of teeth and tease of tongue, finger pressing into your jaw to pull you closer, thumb stroking your cheek.

You whimpered involuntarily when his lips parted from yours, soothing as they returned for a short peck, to drop a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, to brush your cheek.

Your name was a breathy whisper between the two of you, barely audible as all you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, growing aware of your fingers clutching at Steve’s still unzipped armour and nearly sinking in his hair, his hot breath tickling your skin.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes – what if you dreamed it up? What if you looked at him and saw regret – it didn’t feel like he would be regretting it, but… still. Insecurity tugged at your mind as it slowly cleared from the literally breath-taking kiss.

Steve repeated your name with urgency that was unheard of, the single word sounding almost as a plea.

“Please say something.”

Oh.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised to be met with his searching gaze, a minute furrow of his brows. It seemed you weren’t the only one whose mind was being the worst of one’s enemies.

Perhaps your brain was being stupid. Perhaps you both wanted this. Perhaps you felt exactly the same.

As you forced yourself to move, fingers actually slipping into his hair to caress his nape, Steve inhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. The tinniest of smiles tugged at his mouth, tempting red and minutely swollen from the kiss; you had to resist the urge to just taste it again.

Instead, you licked your lips only, savouring the previous sensations, smiling unwittingly.

“That’s… uhm, that’s a really creative new way of driving me crazy.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth, relief written all over his face.

“Oh? There are other ways in which I’m driving you crazy? Because I couldn’t tell...”

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t think he bought you unconvincing act of being irritated with him at such remark.

“Don’t push it, Captain,” you warned him, but your treacherous mouth kept curling up in a smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of the kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh… s-sure,” you stuttered briefly as his thumb caressed your cheek, bright smiling eyes watching only inches from your face – and yet it felt like he was too far.

“You’re driving me crazy too, you know,” he noted in a breathy voice, causing you to gulp as his gaze flickered to your mouth, clearly implying how you do so… among other ways… like your stubbornness practically matching his.

“Oh really? I do? I couldn’t tell…”

He chuckled, his hand slipping to your nape, soft tickle of his fingers making you squirm.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now if that’s okay,” he whispered, not waiting for your permission and erasing the distance between your lips again.

Still, you whispered your approval to his mouth.

“So okay…”

Long moments later when Sam called out to warn you that you’d be landing soon, you said yes to the grumpy old man’s request to let him treat you dinner.

Oh if you only knew by then how far you’d come…

Lost in thought, goofy smile on your face, you exited the bathroom, ready to snuggle your future husband… and to fully take the opportunity to make love, last night before you officially became his and he became yours.

You had a brief second to register that the bed was empty, your heart skipping a started and disappointed beat. The second you stepped out though, you were literally swept off your feet.

A yelp erupted from your throat as you found yourself with no ground under your feet and high in the air, one of Steve’s arms under your knees, the other under your back. Your hands frantically gripped at the nearest firm point, Steve’s shoulder and arm as you finally realized what the hell happened and was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue of his eyes.

That traitor was waiting just by the door to ambush you! Why?

You slapped his very much bare shoulder playfully, hissing a curse, not unaware of the heat radiating of him and seeping into your skin.

“You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you complained, but he didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve grinned wider, shrugging and pulling you closer to his torso, nuzzling your temple and dropping a placatory kiss there.

“Still looking a little cold.”

“No, I look like this because you scared me,” you emphasized, vainly trying to resist the seduction; a mixture of playfulness, sweetness and blatant display of strength as he still held you with ease. It was hard not to be temped. “And you look like you’re awfully warm, parading here without a shirt.”

“Well, I’d call us even since you’re parading around in these absolutely sinful shorts. Makes me hot. I can warm you up,” he mumbled to your skin, lips moving to your ear, causing you to shudder.

How was it so easy for him to make you all hot and bothered? You guessed that at least, as he said, it made you even... it wasn’t difficult to get him riled up either.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Driving you crazy?” Steve offered, sounding awfully delighted at the idea and you only melted into him further at the reminiscence of your first kiss and what followed.

“Always,” you confirmed, deadly serious, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips or the mewl that escaped you when his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“But you love it.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I can live with that with that then,” he said, stalking to the bed determinately. “Now let me drive you so crazy you can barely speak and the only sound you’re making is whimpering my name.”

He all but tossed you on the bed, a yelp of his name in fact erupting from your throat, followed by a fit of giggles that only died when his mouth seized yours, his lips only leaving when heading south to indeed drive you crazy.

And yes; you loved it.

And you loved him too.

In one unending moment I fall within your reach My song a sweet surrender Hold on to me Hold on to me

Before the girls could steal you from him, Steve decided – with your enthusiastic agreement – that you should once again try how it felt to make some morning lovin’ outside marriage. With the ceremony planned for the late afternoon, you had plenty of time; and needless to say, it was bliss. Then again, you believed that marital sex with Steve would be just as delightfully pleasant, thank you very much.

Then, it was a whirlwind – make up, hair, dress, a tear or two spilled when you saw the result in the mirror.

More tears spilled when you glanced out of the window and saw the tastefully and modestly decorated arch, the path created by few scattered rose petals, the male part of your almost family sans Clint in the suits, effectively hiding Steve from you; and you from his just in case, because no one wanted any bad luck.

Your staring was interrupted when your brother went to pick you up to lead you down the aisle.

Upon entering the room and setting his gaze on you, he promptly looked away with a sniffle. It both warmed your heart and made you laugh as did his remark.

“Nope, not giving you to him. In fact, I’m never giving you to anyone. No one will ever be worthy, so I’m keeping you.”

“Hush, Clinton, you’ll still have me,” Natasha winked at him as he took a deep calming breath before carefully eyeing you again.

Clearly, it hadn’t done the job, because few tears still found their way down his cheeks.

“You’re a knock-out, sis,” he sputtered hastily, but no less honestly – clearly moved to tears.

And yet… you snorted at his choice of words and he rolled his eyes, quick to compliment your beauty instead.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though, even appreciating his first remark more for it came from the bottom of his heart rather than from what convention required.

Embracing you carefully in fear he would mess up the work of art his wife and other girls created, he held you in his arms for a moment, as you retuned the hug, clutching at his suit with a little too force. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bridesmaids clearing the room.

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Bobo,” you hummed with a smile, throwing his own words from last night at him.

And you weren’t leaving him; your heart swelled with love for your brother, your father figure, your long-life friend.

With sniffle, he let go of you and looked you up and down, proud smile spreading on his lips.

“It’s okay. If you are, I have the best spy in the world for a wife, we’ll drag your ass back home.”

You just slapped his chest playfully and took a deep breath – it was time. Clint grasped your hand firmly then, elbows interlocking, and went to step out just a moment after the bridesmaids left to join the groomsmen.

Well-aware everyone was going to stare and that Steve awaited you at the end of the aisle to marry you, your legs were shaking minutely as the magnitude of the event finally dawned to you.

“Getting second thoughts now?” Clint teased you, eliciting a chuckle from you and shake of your head.

What a question.

“No. Just… please don’t let me fall,” you muttered to him, entirely serious and grateful for your choice of footwear – simple flats hidden by the long flowing skirt of your dress. Better chance of not spraining your ankle on your wedding day.

“Never.”

Clint squeezed your hand under his warm palm and you took a deep breath, stepping into the doorway. Soft melody welcomed you, your very own wedding march Bruce was playing on a mouth organ – something you had previously had no idea he was capable of.  

Looking up from your skirt, you feasted your eyes on the company and the beautiful scenery for only a regretfully short moment, grateful for Sam’s Redwing programmed to record and take photos.

Your gaze instinctively searched the small crowd instead, until it fell under the arch where three men stood.

One of them was Sam himself, having obtained a licence so he could be your wedding registrar; he looked positively dashing. So did Bucky, who patted his best friend dressed in his old-fashioned green captain uniform on the shoulder, his smirk visible even from tens feet away as he stepped back.

Naturally, your gaze lingered on Steve, your feet acting of their own accord and following your brother’s lead.

Gosh, your future husband was the most handsome and absolutely hottest specimen to ever walk the Earth. Hair combed neatly to one side and in his old army uniform, he truly looked like the gentleman from another era he was and yet, he undeniably belonged exactly where he was. His eyes were bright and blue just like the sky, lips slightly parting before curling up into a brilliant smile which somehow still carried the tenderness he treated you with when he felt particularly affectionate.

He must have uttered something under his breath, because Bucky pressed his lips together as if he was holding back laugh. The absolutely best best man, ladies and gentleman.

Your found yourself smiling just as widely, a stray tear tickling the corner of your eye and you had to fight the sudden urge to ditch Clint in order to gather your skirts and run the rest of the way just to jump into Steve’s arms.

But in reality, there was no rush – here, on the damn island Tony rented, there was so much time that one short walk meant nothing in comparison.

“Alright, maybe I’ll give you to him,” Clint whispered, making you bite the inside of your cheek so you would cackle.

Leave it to your brother he would find Steve Rogers so fine he’d be willing to give you out just to have him become a part of your family.

One corner of Steve’s lips twitched in amusement – supersoldier hearing didn’t miss the remark then. Good. Then Bucky heard it too and you had a witness just in case Clint would change his mind. Again.

Finally, with your heart almost in your throat, you reached the end of the aisle, Clint gently putting your hand into Steve’s… without letting go.

“You be nice to her, Cap. And I mean really nice, you hear? Or else-“

“Hush,” you hissed good-naturedly in your brother’s direction, winking at him before you returned your gaze to Steve. “Hey there, handsome.”

Steve chuckled under his breath when Clint stepped back. He returned the greeting with soft ‘hey there, beautiful’ and then proceeded to lift your joined hands, brushing your knuckles with his lips – just like the day you shared your first kiss.

Well now you truly found yourself on the verge of crying. And Lord, you wanted to kiss him so much-

Sam cleared his throat loudly, casting you both a meaningful look as if he could read your mind and wanted to remind you that there were a few things to go through before that could happen.

Ugh. Formalities. Just let me kiss him…

Steve licked his lips – the audacity! – and turned, lightly tugging at your hand so you both faced your friend who held a little leather book open, beckoning towards the guests: Bucky and Natasha, the best man and the best woman, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Sharon, Pepper. Just your closest friends and family.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Alright. We all know why we gathered here today. To get these two amazing people married, so they could officially become a special team within our team.”

You grinned, peripherally noticing Steve eyeing you as well. Team indeed.

“This is the part where I would ask all of you, bride and groom included, to speak up now if you’re aware of anything standing in the way of this wedlock or to remain silent forever. But frankly, if you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself. Just let these lovebirds get married…”

Muffled laughter and giggles erupted from your group. Honestly, you wouldn’t say it better. You noticed Clint shifting and Natasha forcefully holding his hand down; you bit down on your lip so you wouldn’t laugh and sent her a grateful smile instead. The best maid of honour ever.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear, folks. We have the rings, correct? Great. Just so you know, these two saps asked me to read one vow which they are making to each other, because they didn’t trust themselves to say theirs individually without bursting into tears. So now it’s left to me to cry instead. Thanks for that.”

Your cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from smiling so wide, but tears prickled in your eyes acutely just at the thought of the vow you agreed on. You spent countless hours thinking about what you wanted to say and realized that your vow would be too long and that you would in fact start crying and that you could never name all the things you loved Steve for. It had been a relief to find out that Steve shared the sentiment and the deal was made.

Natasha and Bucky dutifully laid the rings on the pillow Wanda’s powers held levitating by your and Steve’s side – not without Bucky finding a split second to compliment your appearance and earning a brief smirk from Steve.

“I know,” Steve uttered and you wondered if there was a dare going around as to who would make you burst out laughing first.

This was your wedding dammit. You could be at least a bit a lady and remain collected.

Hardly.

“With this ring,” Sam started, breathing in and out and you knew you already lost, first tear rolling down your cheek as you gazed into Steve’s inviting eyes, “I give myself to you without giving up myself. With this ring, I surrender to you for I have faith you understand the value of wielding such power and for I deem you worthy of it. With this ring, I promise to love you, to respect you and to support you to be your best self as I trust you to do the same for me, for us.”

You blinked away the waterfalls, reaching almost blindly for Steve’s ring and with fingers trembling – with giddiness, not nerves – you somehow succeeded at slipping it on his left ring finger.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking even in such simple sentence and the watery smile Steve graced you with made your ribcage feel too small for your swelling heart.

Fingers equally clumsy, he slipped a ring on you as well, shoulders squaring as if in pride.

“I do,” he said firmly, the damp path down his left cheek only adding severity to his vow.

“You may-- uhm, okay, you may kiss the bride, your wife--- I mean, Mrs. Rogers. You may kiss the groom, your husband…” Sam mumbled under his breath until he didn’t, because Steve pulled you in for a kiss the same moment Sam said the first ‘may’ and incidentally, the same moment you practically threw yourself at Steve.

Laughter and whistles erupted from the group of your friends as Steve bend you back dramatically, the determined press of his lips to yours not at all disrupted by the change of angle, claiming your mouth in ways that made you shudder and stirred flames in your belly.

Years and years later, you’d recall that kiss and realized an amazing thing; how it felt just like your first kiss, your last one, and every single one in between.

With you still practically horizontal, Steve’s crinkling eyes met yours, delighted smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers,” he hummed, adding a cheeky grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” you muttered back teasingly, pulling at his nape, demanding another kiss, your own declaration whispered to his mouth. “I love you too, Mr. Rogers.”

And you did. Gosh, you did.

S.R. masterlist

(divider by firefly-graphics)

Well. This turned out SO DIFFERENTLY than I anticipated and SO MUCH LONGER. If you feel like leaving feedback, I’ll be grateful. If not, well. *shurgs*

Excuse me while I go and continue dreaming of ONE fictional man. Ugh. Anyway.

Thank you for reading!

And once again, thanks to WIYBUPT for hosting and for just being awesome in general :)

[binniesthighs]

hello stranger | reader x changbin |

a/n: hehe hello cuties, before i get to the chapter, I just wanted to say thank you so much for all of the support and lovely messages you that you sent to me for the last chapter. as I said, it was one that was super personal to me and for it to be so relatable and emotional for you all makes my heart feel so, so full. these themes are going to continue, so please read the warnings cuties. as always, thank you so very much for reading my stories <3 

Part 6 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung 

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!changbin, rapper!jisung, establishedfwb!jisung, artist!reader, skz side characters, bestfriend!chan, bestfriend!felix, roommate!minho, explicit language, HARD fluff to HARD angst, some sensual-azz fuckin’ (muhaha), unprotected sex (stay safe cuties!), lil bit of breath play, nipple play (f), cumshot, mentions of food, changbin has a cute butt (that’s the tweet) 

CWs: aftereffects of traumatic experiences, mentions of past toxic relationship, self sabotaging tendencies 

Word count: 6.6k (remember when i said i wasn’t gonna write long chapters? wellllll...ooP)  

Chapters 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7

When you were back in high school, before you knew a thing about what love was, your Art teacher had given you an assignment: what do you think that love looks like? At first, all you had really known love to be was the kind that you shared with your friends and your parents, and maybe with your family dog. You had read about love in your favorite books and seen it in your favorite movies, but you had never really considered what it looked like. Obviously, the assignment was all up for you to decide, but there being a million and one things that you considered love to be, to put it to paper with your own hand was something different entirely. 

At first, when you thought of love, you thought of the typical: hearts, hugs, the colors red and pink. But, this was too simple. 

“What are you drawing?” You had sneakily whispered to your classmate. 

She shrugged, and continued scratching away at her sketchbook. You had peeked to see what she was putting together, and for her, she had started to draw what looked like a house on the edge of a lake. The house was in the middle of nowhere and it was surrounded by trees of all different kinds and there was a single bench that sat at the edge of the water. 

You figured, love can be a place, so you started drawing that. 

Your pencil swiped over the paper in strokes big and small, and the lead rubbed off on the side of your pinky as you outlined the corners of your apartment building. 

You thought, I love the people who live here, therefore, this must be love. 

It made sense. People and places could make up love. 

When you turned in your drawing of your apartment building you were surprised to see the variety of other paintings and drawings that the other students had turned in. One student had turned in a whole piece that had been drawn with oil pastel. It was a jumbling of colors: mostly red, as you had expected, but it also held streaks of gold, black and teal. You remember your teacher really liking that one. 

Today, if you would’ve gotten that assignment, it would’ve been completely different. 

It was a sunny afternoon when you sat at your easel with your pencil in hand. Drawing out the mere outline and rough draft, tears welled in your eyes. A long time ago you had promised yourself that if your art didn’t mean anything, what even was it?

The sun filled your room in the golden hour of the day best it could from your frosted glass window. The warmth that the rays held made your whole body swell with a warmth, and it gave your shaking arms the power to keep going. 

You brushed lightly over the rough canvas with your pencil, tracing out the lines as if they were the very memories that you had kept painted in your mind. 

You drew a snowy night, not much unlike the ones that you had been seeing recently. You drew an empty alley, not lit by much light. You drew the way that the oil slicked in potholes mixed with the snow. You planned out the way that the industry of the city lit his back as he stared out into that dark expanse where you knew that darker figures were hiding. You drew him. You drew him on that exact same night that you had fist seen him: a dark outline, who would become full of color. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“What’s that?” 

Changbin pointed to your easel with a sheet draped over it. 

“A surprise.” You answered. “I know that I’m not good with surprises, but, are you?” 

“I don’t mind them.” He chuckled. “For me?” 

“Mmhm. Its not ready yet so you’ll have to wait.” 

“I’m fine with waiting.” He sighed out. 

You nuzzled closer into his bare chest, right up to his heartbeat. Both of you were admittedly a bit dewy in your sweaty afterglow, but this was of no concern to you. These past few days, this had been your preferred way to drift off to sleep. Even on the occasional times when the both of you would be too busy to make the time, when you finally could see him, it was everything to you. In his large and muscled arms, there was no place else where you had felt safer. You too wrapped your whole being around him with a feeling so close it must’ve been unreal. If you could hear the muffled little rhythm of his heartbeat, you were sure that he could hear yours. 

“Soon, all this snow is gonna melt, and then I can take you to loads of other places. I’m just getting started.” Changbin’s airy breath tickled your scalp. 

“Really? Taking me to all the usual places?” You mocked. 

“No.” He said seriously. “I want to take you to places I haven’t taken anyone before. My secret places. I...you know...wouldn’t mind if you could draw them for me either.” 

You giggled, “Ever heard of taking a picture?” 

“Hey! It’s not the same.” 

“Fineee. Okay, okay. I’ll draw them for you.” Your fingertips traced down the muscles of his back. “Maybe I should start charging if you’re gonna keep being like this.” 

“You don’t do pro-bono?” He ran along with your joke. 

“If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll consider it.” 

He tsked, “Could you please draw for me?” 

You masked another adoring chuckle. “I do like it when you say please.” 

Everything about the one moment felt so sickly sweet, it was like you must’ve dreamt it up. In between the swaddling of sheets, you tried your best to enjoy the one moment: it was just enough to keep the doubtful whispers away. After all that he had done, said, all the pain that he had kissed away, or compliments he had hushed into your ear, the creeping feeling that you hardly deserved it all would rear it’s head time and again, even when you didn’t expect it to.

The two of you were quiet for a moment as you fell into the serenity of just existing together. After a while, you would narrow your focus best on the way that his breaths would rise and fall and the way this his body heat would melt into yours under the mess of sheets that neither of you bothered to fix. He would use his thumb to rub reassuring little strokes into the back of your neck where he had you. 

Your hand would fall down his arm, all the way down this wrist where his scar lived. Ever since you had noticed it, you couldn’t stop looking at it. Every time that you did, you were given a tangible reminder of everything that he had been, and was, to you. You rose the uneven skin to your lips to gift a little kiss to it. 

Changbin tried his best to hide his giddy smirk at the action. 

“Do you have to leave tonight?” You settled his arm around you once more. 

“No. Not tonight. But, for the next few days I don’t think I’ll be able to. They put me on the matinee shifts at the theater. I fucking hate those. No one comes in at all so it’s like I’m just sitting there.” 

“Wanna sneak me in some time this week? I should have a break.” 

“I would but...I’d prefer to keep that job. As much as I hate it.” 

“We could do something this Thursday? You aren’t busy on Thursdays as much right?” 

“Ahhhh I think so.” Changbin rolled the two of you over, allowing himself to lean over top of you. With a sly smirk he lowered his voice to say, “You know, my ribs really aren’t hurting as much any more.” 

“Oooh? Good to know.” You ruffled his curly strands. 

“I’m trying to say that I can go for another round if you would like to?” He bowed his head to kiss lightly into your neck and the fading love bites that he had put there himself. 

Your eyes wandered to your clock telling you that it was nearly 2 in the morning. If you had better judgement, you would’ve said no. But, these days, judgement wasn’t something that you took too seriously. 

He kissed down deeper, and pulled at your skin just in the way that he knew you liked it. Changbin knew the ins and outs of you perfectly, as well as exactly what to do send you quivering under him. All he had to do was press his body into yours so you could feel his weight, and it made you fold just for him. He followed his kisses up your jaw where he then lead them into your bottom lip and over every angle that your mouth would crave him. He often didn’t mean to do it intentionally, but between your parted mouths, his tongue would sneakily find yours, and he would slowly slide it against yours. 

“Do you want to?” He muttered between kisses. 

Under the covers, his hand cascaded down your side in a way that tickled slightly, but also made you shiver. 

He broke from his kiss to hold your eyes seriously. “We don’t have to.” 

“No, I want to.” You reached up to hold his sleepy and puffy face in your hands. 

Changbin said nothing more, but instead returned to weaving kisses back down your neck. Under your waist, you felt him angle up your hips higher and the heat of his tip teased at your entrance still slick with your arousal from before, and now renewed. He bowed his head down to your chest to pump himself with a few muffled grunts. After, he rose his head to hold your eyes with his own. The muscles on his arms flared where he held himself up, and those adorable little stretch marks in the corners of his arms moved with them. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.” 

You melted under his compliment. No matter who many times he had said it, you still weren’t use to it. 

“So are youuuu.” You said with a dreamy tone. One other thing that you had figured out about him was that returning such comments to him made him a flustered mess. It was utterly adorable for someone as stoic as him at times. 

“Psh.” He scoffed, then lowered his voice once again. “Beautiful how I fill you up sweetheart?” Changbin angled your waist up higher, then spread your thighs, finally pushing them into your body to tighten you. He aligned himself over you, then pushed himself in agonizingly slow. “Beautiful how I can fuck you so deep? How I can m-make you...” 

He had given up on talking, but rather thrust himself further into you with his shaking breaths and little “mmm’s” getting caught on his tongue. 

“B-Bin...fuck, f-feels s-so good--”

He pushed your legs up closer to your body, allowing himself greater access to graze your g-spot. Your busy fingers found their way around his back to claw all the way down. He still relished in taking his time with you, and would never rush fucking you--it was as if he had all the time in the world to unravel you. You returned around him, tightening has he fucked in and out with his own pace. After a while of doing the same, his hand crept around your neck to give you a couple choking squeezes that made you whimper out like a kitten. He would never keep it going for long however, but rather indulged himself in the way that your gasps would remind him of how good it all felt. After, Changbin dipped his thumb into your mouth to run the pad over your tongue. 

The tip of his teeth caught the skin of his lip which he bit into hard. 

“You feel so good baby. F-feels so good on my cock. It’s all for you angel.” 

An unrestrained groan escaped from your mouth as he continued and your orgasm pooled steadily. In and attempt to steady yourself you clawed back into your pillow supporting your head. 

He swiftly changed your position, taking both of his hands to turn you on your stomach. Without a pause he lead his swelling head back into your pussy where he kept on going at his favored slow pace. Your face smushed into the pillow with hips raised in the air. The fluffy fabric muffled your helpless moans. 

“Louder for me princess.” He growled. 

With one hand he arched over to tweak at your nipples with force: twisting and pulling, then he wet his hand with his own saliva to let your skin feel the cold and wet sensation. His other hand he used to reach around and rub circles into your clit. He was gentle at first, but worked your bud harder and faster. Your knees and legs shook the faster he rubbed, and you spilled your loudest and most unapologetic moans into the room that had risen in temperature. 

“Fuck...” He swore. Changbin allowed himself to quicken his pace inside of you. The action alone sent you spinning wildly into your orgasm: a tear of white hot heat that shook your whole body and turned your swollen bud into a sensitive mess under his fingers which did stop, even when when he knew that you had just cum all over them. The harder he pressed, the more wonderfully painful it felt, and you let your tears fall hot from your eyes to the sheet. You attempted to call out his name, but no words that left your mouth made sense. 

He turned your body once more, using brutish hands on your hips as he pulled you overtop of the sheets to fuck you into the bed once more with your sweating back stuck to the comforter. Your body shook with your orgasm still, and you needily brought his lips down to yours to kiss him with your thank you’s as he milked himself out in your tightening walls. 

Changbin was animalistic in the way that he finally let his hips snap over you, at last reaching his orgasm mere seconds after he had pulled out and jerked himself over you. Ribbons of his white cum came spilling out over your gasping chest and stomach and dripped lazily from his pink and flaring tip. He took in shallow inhales as he did, and kept rubbing until the very end and he had nothing more to give. Even as his hand dropped, you took his dick in your own hand to just twist lightly and ride out the last of his orgasm. He softened in your hand with eyes closed in his focus and came down. 

The combination of your lust held in the air for a few silent moments, then he collapsed back down next to you into a blushing and exhausted mess. His pink chest shook, and his soft heather eyes found you. 

“We should...probably take a shower right?” 

“Probably.” You grinned. 

Changbin leaned over to plant even more sugary sweet kisses on top of your lips. He always was one to admire his work, so he chuckled lightly seeing the way that he had properly covered you in his cum. 

“I can help you clean that off.” 

The bed shook and he rose to get you something to clean up. You wished that you could’ve moved to see him saunter around your room without a single piece of clothing on. It was no secret that he had one hell of a cute butt. 

Changbin helped you out of the bed, finding that your legs had started to shake and betray you a bit more harshly than you had intended. He ran the water for you both, inviting you in to take the task of cleaning you to himself. He took the suds in his own hands to brush them all over your body and took careful and gentle attention to the more sensitive parts of your body. He giggled a little at the way that even under the warm water, your nipples would still harden when he ghosted his fingers over them with soap. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” You scolded him. 

He took care of the little bruises on your neck and collarbones, giving them kisses under the clear stream of water as if he was healing them. After he was done, you did the same and cleaned out his hair with your shampoo. He always let out happy little groans when you would massage his scalp. He still had a couple scrapes on his face from a few weeks ago, so you kissed all of them too. 

Changbin’s favorite part was how he could mess up your hair with the towel afterword and make you look as ridiculous as possible. Of course, you would do the same. You would brush your teeth together, and dress somewhat all of the way back again. A while ago he decided keeping clothes at your place was a good idea, but you ended up wearing them more than he did. You blamed it on dirty laundry, but you really did just like the way that they would smell all tangled up in your blankets on your nights alone. 

With bare legs, you would tangle yourselves all up in eachother once more, and not even bother to look at what time it was then. 

As it had become his habit, before the two of you drifted to sleep, Changbin would kiss into your forehead “l love you. You know?” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Chocolatey goodness wafted up Felix’s nose, and he let out a happy little squeal. 

“~Thank youuu~” He beamed to the waitress. 

He took a careful sip not to burn his tongue, then turned his head to watch the way that the snow had started to flurry outside of the diner window. Minho flipped the pages of his book and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Whatcha reading?” Felix said with a little tap of his feet under the table. 

Rather than answering, Minho sighed out and closed his book. “Nothing now. If you’re gonna ask questions, then I’ll get distracted, so, nothing now.” 

“Oh. Sorry.” Felix frowned. 

Minho rolled his eyes, suddenly becoming exasperated over his new friend’s dramatic reaction. 

“It was something that I’m assigned to read for one of my classes. It’s about economics or something like that. I’m kind of just skimming; reading because I have to....” He took a sip of his coffee. “Y/n should be reading the same book considering that we are in the same class...but I haven’t even seen you with it yet.” 

You prodded at your plate of half eaten waffles. “About that...” 

“If you think that I’m gonna give you the SparkNotes you are sorely mistaken.” 

You writhed in your seat a bit like an upset toddler. “Come onnnnn, Minho, you know that I don’t have time for that, working at the library and such...”  

“--More like stealing my roommate from me. I hardly see him at our apartment anymore.” Minho made his remark with a type of snark, but knowing him, he was still just as sarcastic. 

“Yeah,” Felix piped up. “The three of us haven’t hung out in a while either!” 

“...Sorry, I’ve just been getting...caught up in things.” 

Minho cleared his throat. “I’m not saying that its a bad thing. It’s just something that I’ve noticed.” 

Felix nodded, “Me too! I’m really happy for you!! So is Chan, don’t get me wrong. We haven’t seen you so happy and like, not serious in such a long time. Really, I’m so so glad that you have someone like him for a boyfriend.” 

Your fork scratched your plate. “--Boyfriend?” 

“Yeah!” Felix beamed. “Isn’t that what he is?” 

Minho too held an expectant gaze. 

“I-I don’t think...we hadn’t really talked about what it is that we’re doing...or are.” 

“So you’re saying that he’s not your boyfriend?” Minho cocked his head in his confusion. “Well, you ask him and he’ll think that it’s a different story.” 

“H-he talks about me?” You sat up straighter. 

“Well, he hasn’t explicitly said anything, but the way that he never shuts the fuck up...” Minho suddenly became much more interested in his coffee. 

“What? You don’t want him to be your boyfriend?” Felix looked just as confused. 

In your hands, you crinkled up the napkin that you had resting on your lap. You hadn’t in fact, ever thought of such. Merely, you had thought that you loved him, and that you enjoyed being around him and that he had made you happy. Was it odd that the thought had never crossed your mind? 

“And he hasn’t said anything about it either?” Felix leaned in. To his side, Minho nudged his arm in the most non-obvious way possible. 

“...No?” 

Your heartbeat quickened in pace. 

“Af...after everything that happened back then? Didn’t you say that he like, confessed or something and you did the same? You’ve only been hanging out with eachother for weeks?” Felix pushed his cocoa away from himself to lay his hands flat on the table. 

“I...don’t think that we should press the issue.” Minho patted down the boy sitting next to him. 

It was the feeling that you had been avoiding for weeks: that kind of uncertainty and fear that you had pushed down so far after the night that it all came together, but you didn’t expect it to manifest like this. In your chest a knot tied itself together tightly and in a way that you couldn’t explain. 

“I...just like what's happening right now between us, I didn’t think that he would want--” 

Felix nudged Minho by the hip, motioning for him to let him out of his side of the booth. Minho rolled his eyes, but did so muttering, “I said we shouldn’t press the issue but here you go...” 

Felix slid over to your side of the booth, nearly shoving you up close to the wall with how near he scooched to you. Carefully, he removed the napkin that you had scrunched up into your palm. 

“Relax okay? You’re doing it again. Just calm down.” While his tone was sweet, you couldn’t help but find some condescending edge--real or not. 

“Doing what? I don’t think that I’m doing anything wrong??” 

Felix let you squeeze his hand tight, as patient as ever. 

“Do you not want him to be your boyfriend?” He repeated. “But he treats you so nicely? There’s nothing to worry about.” 

At first you were angry at yourself, angry at yourself for feeling the hot tears well up in your eyes in public, 

I’m so fucking pathetic. 

Secondly, you were furious at yourself for feeling anything less than the happiness that had made up your whole world for the past few weeks. You had worked so hard just to make something that made sense, and he made sense. Why did it have to be much more complicated than that? 

“Y/n?” Felix bowed his head down with his softening gaze. 

“F-Felix, I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“I’m just trying to understand so I can help you out with this. Clearly there’s something that’s upsetting you about, I don’t know, putting a label on it? If that’s the right word--” 

Minho sucked at his teeth, “He’s too nice to say that you’re self sabotaging again. Listen, you don’t have to have the answers right now, we’re just saying you’re getting in your own way at having something that could be really great.” 

Felix shot daggers in Minho’s direction. 

“I wasn’t gonna say this, but Bin’s been going through shit right now with his family that I’m sure he isn’t telling you about. Someone tipped them off about what he’s been doing and they’re furious. He’s been telling them that no one knows that he’s tied to them when he raps but they aren’t listening. Literally when he goes to see you it’s like, what’s helping him forget all that shit. He cares about you a fuck ton, and I’ve heard about it all. He wants you to be his girlfriend. Believe me. Don’t know why he hasn’t brought it up yet, but...” 

Felix took in a shaky breath, then turned his attention back to you. “Besides all that, I think that you should at least talk to him about this all. I had no idea that you felt this way. I’m sorry for making assumptions. At least, if you and him talk about it, you can figure something out right?” 

You took at the papery and crinkled napkin and dabbed it harshly on your eyes to dry your tears before they had a chance to run further down your face. 

“Why the fuck doesn’t he tell me anything?” Your voice wavered. 

Minho folded his hands on the table. “Knowing him, he probably thinks that it would be burdening to you. Selfless dick. He thinks that putting that shit on you somehow makes him seem like a handful or some shit.” 

“B-but I don’t feel that way?” 

“Then tell him!!” Felix’s volume rose. “When you talk to him, tell him that.” 

“What the fuck is this, a drama?” Minho laughed a little. “These communication skills are god-awful.” 

“Oh fuck off Minho,” Felix rubbed your back to soothe you. “This is real life, and we’re here to help out Y/n.” 

“That’s fuck off Minho-hyung to you.” The older boy stuck out his tongue. 

You wiped your nose against your hand, then Minho threw another napkin from the holder in your direction. 

“I promise that things will get better when you talk to him.” Felix nodded. “Talking always helps.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Thursday afternoon came, and the forecast had called for snow, but none had come. Rather, the atmosphere had turned to be dreary and grey the whole day long, and the temperature dropped so low that some local schools had to cancel classes for the day. Your university had decided to do the same. While you had been thankful and decided to spend the day working on your various projects, you couldn’t bring your hand to the canvas. 

All day long you had spent figuring out what it really was that you wanted to say to Changbin, and you still hadn’t figured it out yet. Even you didn’t know what it was entirely that scared you deeply. But, you knew that somewhere you did. 

Why her? 

You could do better. 

Isn’t she...boring? 

You hugged your legs to yourself as you waited on your couch. The memories seeped into your brain like some kind of poison diffusing its way. 

No, no. You’re wrong. You tried your best to banish them. 

You’re all mine. No one else’s. Don’t you ever forget that. Tell me. Who’s baby are you? 

You squeezed your eyes shut, and dug your nails into the fleshy part of your knees where you held them. 

You don’t own me. You don’t have the fucking power. 

Three knocks clicked at your door, and you knew that it was Changbin. Your chest shook with a type of anxiety that felt like prickling thorns. You rose to open the door. 

“Fuck. It’s so freezing out there.” Was the first thing that he said. “I wouldn’t mind not having to go back out there if you are?” He slung his coat over one of chairs to your two person dining table. As soon as he was undressed, you were overcome with the desire to be as close as possible as you could get to him. It had been your safe place. 

Changbin let out a little surprised noise when you launched your body at him, but he just as quickly held you back firmly. 

“Is everything okay?” 

For a moment you let his rosemary and cedarwood cast aside all the ideas and words that ate away at you. 

“Can we talk?” You mumbled. 

“Yeah, of course. Can we sit down? Get a blanket maybe?” You nodded and let him do the work of going back to your room to get back your knit blanket that he knew you liked best. He threw it over his shoulders them beckoned you to join him in his arms. You snuggled right up into his chest where he had tucked himself into the corner of the couch. “Want to talk about it now?” 

With glistening eyes you tried your best to look up at him. His cheeks were still bitten pink from the cold. 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about your parents? Or about what’s going on right now?” 

Changbin sighed and bit at his lower lip in his discontent. “Minho said something didn’t he?” 

“You can tell me, you know?” 

Changbin shook his head. “It’s not your problem to worry about, so I don’t want you do.” 

“But you’re my problem to worry about. Don’t you get that?” 

He sighed once more, then rested his head atop of yours. Where he held you around your arms, he rubbed gently.  

“And if...being with me helps you...I’ll come around anytime alright? You don’t just have to come here.” 

He laughed a little. “My place isn’t as private as yours is.” 

You toyed with the fraying fabric of the blanket. “You know that I can be quiet if I need to be. Or if you just want me to sleep over, I can do that too.” 

“I don’t want you going out of your way--” 

“--I don’t mind.” You nuzzled a little deeper. “So, your parents are giving you a hard time?” 

He tsked. “Yeah. It’s just...stupid is all. They care so much about what I do and don’t do when I left so it wouldn’t bother them. They’re trying hand out some kind of threats to me like they have the right to do so....they don’t.” 

“What are you going to do?” 

Changbin helped you up a bit higher up his body so your head could rest on his shoulder. “Nothing. Keep doing what I’ve always been. No one knows except the people I have closest to me. They’re worrying over nothing.” 

You formed a “oh” with your lips. 

“But, it’s nothing to worry about. I promise.” 

Already, you had forgotten what you really had decided to talk to him about. It had slipped from your mind just as quickly as you had let it arise. The two of you grew quiet, and you let yourself become overcome with the feeling and warmth that his body and the blanket gave to you. You wondered if he would’ve gotten mad if you had fallen asleep just then. It didn’t seem like the worst idea.

“As long as we’re talking about things, do you mind if I ask you something?” Changbin asked after planting a small kiss on your forehead. 

“What’s that?” You said with a sleepy and cracking voice. 

“You...don’t have to have the answer right now, but I just thought it would be worth it to ask, since we’ve been doing you know, this, for a few weeks now. You already know how I feel about you, I think that I’ve made it pretty damn clear, but, I was thinking that we could make things exclusive between us? Like, it just becomes me and you?” 

Drip by drip, the drowsiness that had swept over your eyes dissipated. 

“Would you be up for that? I just, it seems a bit odd to me that we haven’t talked about it yet considering...well, I think that it would be easier if we knew what we were so then we could, I don’t know, plan or something like that? It’s kind of a commitment, I know, but I want you to know that I’m willing--” 

“Bin...” You pulled yourself up from his chest. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? Did-did I say something wrong?” 

Who’s baby are you? 

“You want me to...be yours?” 

“Well, not exactly, you know what I’ve said before, but, I would like you to be my girlfriend--” 

A sob clogged your throat. Now that he had finally said it, the realizations came flooding over you like the deathly winter chill. 

“Angel, are you scared again? I told you that you don’t have to with me, I swear that I don’t ever want to hurt you or anything like what happ--” 

“--Like happened what? Back when I was so fucking stupid to get myself locked up in something that I thought would be good for me? Why is it that you want me to be your girlfriend, huh? I-is it because I-I fall over for you? I can’t run away from you? Am-am I just a good fuck for you? What is it?” 

“What the fuck? Where is this coming from? Y/n, you know that I love you, I fucking love you like crazy and I don’t think any of those things!! I’m not trying to restrain you our use you or anything like that, I don’t know why the hell you would think that!” 

“B-because you might not now, but what about later down the line...when I get boring or you figure out that I’m not as exciting like I used to be or--” 

“--What?! No! That’s not gonna happen!” Changbin reached out to pull you back into his arms, but you shook him off. 

Salty tears filled the corners of your mouth. “The last time that I-I did something like this, I--” 

“--Well this isn’t last time, this is this time, okay? It’s different! I swear to God that I’m not that fucking asshole. I get that you’re scared, okay, that’s totally understandable, but I’m asking you to trust me alright? Can you trust me?” 

Part of you wanted to trust him. In fact, a much larger part of yourself wanted to trust him so bad, it hurt. But, a smaller part of you, a much smaller part of you still screamed into the abyss that he was the last person in the world that you could trust; and that voice, was much louder. 

“I want you to be my girlfriend, and I want to give you everything that I have. All my fucking time, my attention, hell, just minutes ago you said that I was your problem, can’t you be mine? Is that not allowed? I’m just...I DON’T get you!!!” Changbin growled out the tail end of his sentence and only after he had said it he realized it was much louder than he intended. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...please. I’m not mad at you.” 

Your body had weakened, so when he had reached out for you, you let yourself fall into his arms. 

“Angel, can’t you see that what I’m trying to do is the complete opposite of what you think I am? Yeah I mean, it would be nice to call you my girlfriend, but not because I’m trying to control you or anything, but because...fuck, you make me happier, made me feel like I’m less lonely in this fucking crazy-ass world. I want to be that for you and you only.” 

Poisonous thoughts. Why were they even more alluring than the antidote that you had right in front of your face? 

Your limp body mustered up the strength of push yourself off his chest. Looking into his eyes you felt numb. With all the care that he held for you, you felt as if you didn’t deserve one single ounce of it. 

Why her?  

You figured that in some parallel earth, you would’ve been able to have said yes. In that parallel earth, nothing bad would’ve ever happened, and you wouldn’t have been crouched in that alley with snow melting into your dress. You would’ve lived a normal life without pain and doubt. Maybe you would’ve met him there too, and you would’ve been able to say yes. 

“You...don’t have to have the answer right now, but can you please consider it...for me? I meant everything that I said, but I...I also can’t wait forever.” You heard his voice grow thick. “I know that if...you can’t do it, or iff you don’t know, then I can’t just make it happen. There’s not a lot else that I can do. But at least I want to try.” 

You could do better. 

“I-I think that I need to be alone...right now--tonight.” Two more hot tears fell down your cheeks with a sting like a papercut. 

“Right now?” 

“Yeah, just--there’s things that I need to think about, I don’t..I don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

“No. I understand.” Changbin sniffled. 

Slowly, your two bodies seperated, and the heat from his body faded. You thought to yourself, it wasn’t yours to keep in the first place. 

You lead him quietly to the door where you watched him lace up his shoes and throw on his coat. His eyes had become puffy, as much as you figured you had looked as well. His grey eyes looked tired, just like the dreary day that you had spent all day hiding from. Still, he smiled. 

“Y/n. I know that you think that you’re hard to love. But you’re not. If you take away anything from this, I hope you know that your past doesn’t define you, and that you can have happiness after it all. I want to be that for you. If you’ll let me. Only if you’ll let me.” 

Your clogged nose made a horrible stuffed sound and you nodded. You had listened to his words, but had you heard? 

He sighed with finality, then bent down to kiss at the salty taste on your lips. 

“Call me, okay?” 

You closed the door after him, then collapsed down the door. Your pent up sobs flew out of your chest with loud and ugly sounding sobs. Each one hurt more than the last to get out. You crumbled against the wood door, and didn’t even mind the cool draft from under the crack. Your world became a blur in front of your watery eyes and your hands shook as they took your phone from your pocket. 

Words of self loathing filled your ears as you searched up the name, but it was the only one that you could think of in your blind emptiness. 

If only things could go back to the way that they were. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

The walk to his apartment was cold, freezing even. You had worn the shoes that you had been scolded for, and the coat that provided you with barely any warmth. You knew the way to his apartment well--it was almost muscle memory by now. Streetlights passed you overhead, and finally the snow that was promised started to drift from the heavens and before you. 

Your hands cracked with the cold when you pushed the button to his intercom, and he buzzed you in without saying a word. You showed yourself up the staircase with empty sounding footsteps echoing against the walls. Your eyes had welled with tears once you reached his floor, but you blinked them away harshly. It was a futile attempt considering that he would see how red your eyes had become. 

His door was cracked with old paint, and the number had been scratched off with age. You knocked one time, no more than that. Somewhere a tiny voice had hoped that he wouldn’t hear the knock at all, and figure that you hadn’t even come up, and that you could quietly slip back away. 

But he didn’t. He must’ve been waiting. 

He too looked to be a mess: his cheeks and eyes had puffed up and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. He wore minimal clothing that hung loosely on his frame. 

“--Jisung--” 

Before you could say any more, he had leapt into you, and wrapped his arms around you so tightly that he could’ve rid you of all your breath. 

“Baby, thank you so much for coming. Thank you so much. I’m sorry how I acted at the concert. I just missed you so much....I missed you so much.” 

[ourladylennon]

this is a stress rant and also I absolutely have to get these thoughts out of my head and onto something so that I can understand how I'm feeling. so pardon me.

I have some very mixed feelings about my latest tattoo experience and it has been incredibly, astoundingly stressful. For anyone who was interested in how it went.

and after typing out this whole rant and reading it back my advice is: ALWAYS make sure it is exactly what you want. ALWAYS speak up if you don’t.

I have a specific style, as everyone, but the style of tattoo I have is a bit of a niche that can be hard to find: geometric design with dotwork/pointillism/stippling techniques to create shading rather then standard fill in shading. This shading style is incredibly time consuming and taxing for the artist and I've had a lot of trouble finding people who specialize in this (and within my area).

I started with an artist about 3 years ago, whom was new to me but known to be good. Got my appt set up, he drew me an entire sleeve- it was absolutely gorgeous. Went through two sessions and his work is genuinely amazing. Clean. Precise. Detailed. Unique. I didn't vibe with him too great but it was something I kind of put aside. But without explaining the whole fucking mess that became, just know that our artist-client relationship fell through. This left me with only the beginning of my tattoo. The whole ordeal was really stressful and upsetting so I put down the goal of getting it finished to try and recoup. And I just continually hit roadblocks trying to find artists who are good at dotwork and willing to do it. Often times they live in other cities/states/etc. Obviously this involves meeting a new artist, trying to figure out if it's a good fit, driving out for consultations/redoing all that process- s t r e s s. Now with covid, it's even more difficult because almost every artist I've come across that I've considered has closed books. All of them being out of town which is fine because it would be worth it. It's expected.

But after three years of this go around of trying to find someone, I was getting really put out by the process and just wanting to get this thing going. (Mistake #1- or #2 technically cause fucking up w the first artist is where it all started and I do regret it to this day).

A new shop opened IN my town- a miracle!!! I started following an artist whose work I found to be particularly amazing. Clean lines, clean shading, artistic seeming. Didn't see any pointillism, but I just like kept seeing her work and thinking damn that's good. So I decided to reach out and told her this is what I'm looking for, a dotwork sleeve and here are some examples of the style I like. I specifically mentioned this and asked if they'd be interested in working on it because I know that dotwork is not everyone's thing. The artist replied and said they've been wanting to get into and would like to do that (we'll call this mistake #3. Do not assume the artist, even if very good at other things will be good at all things. Do not go to an artist wanting a specific style without having seen their work for THAT style).

At this point I sent over pictures of my current tattoo that we'd be adding onto for reference. In my mind this is what I thought would mean: "I am looking at what you have to see how to incorporate it into a new sleeve design and see how I can create a collaborative piece and mesh the two together." (Mistake #4: that was not the case. Do not assume. Anything. Ever.)

The appt date was relatively quick despite the fact that I figured she'd be booked out for quite some time (red flag #1: not because she wasn't busy. But because this was not a whole lot of time to come up with a design but I figured "Well she knows her capabilities better than I do and she wouldn't suggest it that soon if she weren't sure). In my previous experiences, the artist will send you a proof or have a separate appt to review the design. I never received an email with said design (red flag #2, in my personal opinion. But I thought I was just being...extra? Also just thought, okay I'll see it at the appt and it will be OK, right? <- mistake #5).

I show up, there is no sleeve design. (RED FLAG #3) There are two single mandala tattoos. Outlines only. No shading. I'd also like to say my style is much more geometric fractals than it is mandala. A lot of people find these interchangeable but...they're really much different. (RED. FLAG. #4). I genuinely did not see that coming. Maybe I'm wrong to say, but this was negligent in my opinion and experience. A sleeve design ensures that your finished piece flows, that it works together, you can see the whole picture, modify, etc. Especially with it being an addition to my existing work. Cannot stress how much of a red flag.

I'm wigging out at this point. I don't love them but I want this tattoo. I'm going back and forth thinking, "maybe it's just because the shading isn't filled in I can't picture it." (MISTAKE #6: trust your gut!!!). I tell her OK well I like this about this one and that about that one. She only nods and listens, where I was expecting feedback; perhaps an "OK well we can draw it on" or "I can rework it" etc. She didn't and I am too paralyzed to speak up. (Red flag #4)

Mistake #7: I accept it at this point. I pick between the two. She has to go resize it. I'm having a literal internal freak out and battle. I am someone who DOES NOT know how to speak up for themselves. In any way. EVER. For any reason. At any time. I am a fear based individual, in fact, I am nearly certain I have APD (avoidant personality disorder) and it effects me severely and deeply. To the point that simply speaking to someone can be hard for me.

But my brain was screaming you cannot do this! You aren't sure! This is for life! It's your body!! You HAVE to say something! (RED fucking alert)

She came back with the one design resized and my heart is thumping, my chest is constricting, the throat feels like it's closing. I make myself say it. I tell her I don't think this is what I'm looking for. I literally almost busted into tears trying to say it because I was so fucking terrified and overwhelmed. I've never been in a position where I genuinely wasn't sure whether I liked what I was looking at. She says you don't need to be sorry you should speak up this is your body. So immediately, I lost a lot of tension because of her kindness. I thought she would be angry or rude or upset, just because I'm fearful. She proceeded to kind of go in and shade in with a pencil on the stencil to give me a better idea and apologized that she should have had that prepared. I continue asking questions to assuage my concerns and feel....better....ish. she offers to redraw and reschedule but I went against my gut, gave into my desperacy to continue my sleeve, dismissed my feelings as being just my typical overexertion of fear and did something I NEVER do: turn my back on my instincts. (Mistake. Mistake #8)

She was pleasant and I genuinely enjoyed her, felt comfortable with her which is not something I can say about previous artists and that's a good chunk of why I decided to continue. I liked her, I liked her other work I've seen, I just thought that once the stippling was in that I'd see it was really nice. However, I am laying there and I'm like I do not feel poking, which is literally how dotwork is done. Dot by dot. I'd feel her do the tiniest bit of dot-dot-dot and I'm like OK OK I'm just not paying full attention and missing it. But then I'd hear and feel her shading- standard shading. I'm like why is she using a shading tip? I'm just confused honestly. I'm like I have no idea what the could be for, just assume it's necessary for something I didn't realize. But I can see because I'm laying and my arms at a weird angle.

I finally get a peek while she's pausing and its....not dotwork. It's not dotwork at all, in fact. It's too late at this point in my eyes. It was only partially done but what am I gonna do? Stop her in the middle and have an unfinished tattoo? And then what? (Try to) go to someone else to have them do dotwork and have a half unmatching tattoo? There was nothing I could do. So I resigned and accepted this as the consequences of my actions and ill choices. And that's honestly been the hardest part to deal with: I let this happen to myself because I could not speak up. The only person who could have stopped this was ME. And I could not do it. That's how deeply my issues of fear run. And that is terrifying, pathetic, sad.

I'm not saying I got the world's ugliest tattoo. It's okay. Just okay. In the words of RuPaul, meh. I don't want meh. I want astounding. And I didn't do what I needed to to make that happen or not happen.

I just have been in awe over the fact that I asked for dotwork and the artist expressed no concern over this, literally had my existing tattoo right above where they were working and continued to not emulate that style of shading at all. Most of this is my fault, 90% of it. But there was negligence on the artists side and I genuinely don't think they meant it to be. I just don't think they had enough experience, but they too should have spoke up if they didn't feel they could carry it out. They gave me no inclination that they could not or would not be doing dotwork. At any point. And I do feel upset that I don't think they put in the effort or care to work off my existing tattoo in their design, and in looking back, their design also does not look nearly anything like the designs I gave for example. It was my job to walk away and request a redesign or to cancel and I didn't. So in the end this is on me. And it has been very taxing on my mental state.

To end this shit show: the tattoo I just got costed half of what my first one did, while only having taking the fraction of time as my first and being less then half the size of my first. It is not nearly as clean, it certainly reflects their level of experience. The shop environment was not fantastic: it felt a bit like as if I had walked into a chain restaurant...but a tattoo shop. There were no private rooms, there were no tattoo chairs. They were literal stools and that's not...not professional or normal. And I chose to continue.

I'm faced with some really tough decisions moving forward. I am at least thankful it is relatively small ish and wraps towards my inner arm which makes it less visible. But I'm at a crossroads of whether I go through the whole mess of trying to find a FOURTH artist to try and finish my sleeve the way it was meant to be finished (dotwork, whole sleeve design etc) and make the best of it at the risk of having a fucking patchwork arm. Or I continue to work with this artist and see the design through myself (literally design it myself which I didn't want to do but it doesn't appear that I should leave this to them), so that at least the remainder of my arm is consistent shading and work.

And because I've made it sound like the tattoo is atrocious, be assured it's not trash by any means. It's just not what I wanted. Big sis learned a big lesson.

(the immediate center is bothering me the most. But I think it can be altered. Nonetheless. The skill/experience level shows, unfortunately. And you can certainly see the difference between the stipple shading on my first tattoo and the regular shading on the new one.)

I am trying to be positive and that's all I can do. I accept the results and I think it can be fixed to a certain extent, and I can only hope as I move forward that I make the right decision and that the end product is something I enjoy.

[threadedsafetypin]

Sammy Lawrence Banjo Headcanons – Part 1

Sammy has multiple banjos

This is probably my most base headcanon. The delightful thing about banjos is that there’s plenty of variety. They come in different shapes and sizes, and they tend to be quite tailored to specific purposes and genres. Sure, Sammy probably has a favorite banjo that he uses more often than the rest. But having only one banjo, even if it’s the nicest most high quality banjo of its type, would just be musically limiting in a way that I can’t associate with Sammy.

I know that for fandom purposes, it doesn’t really matter to anyone what type of banjo Sammy has, but I can’t help but obsess over that sort of thing. An artist drew Sammy with a banjo? I must scrutinize whether it’s a real banjo or not, what decade it belongs to, and internally rant over every little detail good and bad. A writer typed a scene with Sammy playing a banjo? I gotta gather up context clues for what type of banjo I think Sammy might be using depending on what’s going on in the scene.

So let’s talk about what makes a banjo in a really simple, easy-to-understand way. It’s basically a circle on a stick with some strings stuck on.

Here’s a picture of two of my own banjos. You can see how they have the same shape, but are obviously very different instruments.

Open back vs resonators: We’ll start with the circle part, or the pot. The banjos from the BATIM games are open backs, like my banjo on the left. And the banjos in the game actually really accurate looking! But there are also, of course, resonator banjos like the one on the right. The kind most people associate with bluegrass even though they’re used for a lot more than just that. The resonator pushes the sound out from the front of the banjo, as opposed to open back. Though I would remiss if I didn’t add that you can take off the back of a resonator banjo and play it open if you’d like.

Number of frets: The stick part is called the neck. The little lines on the neck are called frets. A standard banjo has 22 frets, like the one on the right. You can see my banjo on the left is shorter. That’s because it has 19 frets. Shorter banjos like that are called tenor banjos. The Irish tenor banjo is even shorter with 17 frets. Banjos also come longer too. Long neck banjos come in at 25 frets.

Strings: This one is pretty straightforward. Banjos typically either have four or five strings. Naturally, different numbers of strings across different numbers of frets, playing for different genres, leads to several different tuning options for said strings. But this is one of those details where I worry about making people’s eyes glaze over getting into the specific details of jazz tenor tuning, Irish tenor tuning, Chicago tuning, Open G, Double C, Sawmill/Mountain tuning, and a bunch of other different ones. Just trust me that there are a lot of ways to tune a banjo.

Now, I said I didn’t want to end up running off into the weeds, and I don’t. But I also want to say that there are so many more niche banjos beyond what I just outlined above. Rectangle cigar box banjos! 24 fret banjos! Six string banjos! The world of banjos is vast and beautiful!

But let me hurry up and swing this back around to Sammy now.

In a nutshell, to me Sammy having multiple banjos is a natural assumption for a character who is passionate about music and also loves the banjo. Since no one banjo does everything, it just makes sense to me for Sammy to have some kind of array of different types. At least three or four? That’s what my heart tells me anyway lol.

[lillupon]

thoughts on kmg situation

Hi everyone, your friendly neighbourhood minwon writer here! I apologise to those of you who were hoping for an update this weekend. In light of recent events, I found it very difficult to get excited about Achieving Escape Velocity. Before I can resume posting, I feel it is necessary for me to work through my own thoughts. 

I am not trying to persuade people into believing a particular side. I share this with the hope that it will help others who are struggling to reconcile feelings similar to my own. I also see this as an opportunity to—with your guidance—become more passionate, and to learn how to be a decent human being, if that’s what I need to do. I recognise that I come barreling in here with my own cultural and environmental biases. Thus, anyone who understands the nuances of this situation better should feel free to educate me on the matter. If this is of no interest to you, kindly scroll on; I hope to see you when I next update. Otherwise, please join me for a few minutes. 

TL;DR

I support both Mingyu and the victim/OP

I believe that people change as they grow older and become more educated and informed

I am conflicted and have my misgivings about the additional allegations (group chat screenshots + bullying a student with special needs—which has now been resolved, yay!)

I will not unstan Mingyu

I will continue to write and update Achieving Escape Velocity

I want to start by saying that I am an older fan in my twenties, and that I have been a fan of Seventeen since 2015. I have found great joy and comfort in them for many years. As much as I have tried to remain impartial, I have likely fallen short of that ideal. The truth is, I adore this boy! I admire his talents as an artist. I am charmed by the persona of him that we get to see in the media; I see parts of myself reflected in this curated persona. That being said, I tried to remain critical of the stance I am taking. I asked myself, “If this situation was not about Mingyu, and was about my local weatherman instead, would I still feel the same way?” And the answer to that was: hell fucking yeah! Don’t worry, Local Weatherman, I got your back… 

Lastly, I want to say that I am approaching this from a Western point of view. I grew up in Canada, albeit with the traditions and beliefs inherited from fairly strict and conservative Asian parents. As an international fan, there will inevitably be some cultural disconnects in this thought piece. 

There are three main parts to my admittedly rough and disjointed thoughts. The first part addresses the original accusations. The second part addresses additional accusations that were made against Mingyu. The final part is about the future of my minwon stories.

You may agree with all of this, part of this, or none of this. These are simply the thoughts I am trying to work through. 

Thoughts on original allegations (therapy records OP)

How do I describe opening up Twitter on Thursday morning? One moment, I was reading about Mingyu drawing pubes on the classroom whiteboard. The next moment, I was reading about how serious allegations against Mingyu were. People were unstanning him and Seventeen, calling Mingyu a rapist, sending him death threats, etc. I truly did not understand how the situation escalated so quickly, and I nearly gave myself whiplash trying to follow jumps in logic. 

One side of Twitter was convinced that the Original Poster (OP) was lying and doing all of this for attention; they said victims could not be believed 100%. The other side of Twitter declared that Mingyu should be cancelled, and bashed anyone who supported Mingyu or remained neutral. People were sending Mingyu death threats despite the history of k-pop artists committing suicide. All of this reminded me why I avoided Twitter for so many years: Purity and cancel culture run rampant; the mobs want blood penance for every wrongdoing without first considering the nuances of the situation. People blindly defend their ults and set aside their morals to do so.

Here is what I got out of my initial reading of the translated (version 1, version 2) accusations:

OP was shy, timid, and isolated from her classmates. When she tried to speak up in class, Mingyu would tell her to shut up. This happened enough times that, eventually, OP stopped talking in class at all.

Mingyu and his friends told sexual jokes while OP was in the vicinity. These comments made OP uncomfortable and triggered her. However, they were not directed at OP.

The sexual jokes and comments did not escalate to sexual assault or violence. OP explicitly states there was no violence or physical contact.

Mingyu and his friends drew and laughed at inappropriate pictures of body parts/hair on the board. OP is not actually sure if it was Mingyu who drew the pictures, only that he was up there laughing with the others.

OP struggles with anxiety and depression; Mingyu was not the sole reason why she attended therapy. OP mentioned that she brought Mingyu up only briefly with her therapist.

Could I believe all of this being true? Yes, because I personally adhere to two Me Too philosophies: 

The first is that women almost never lie about sexual harassment, abuse, or assault. I absolutely believe that Mingyu is capable of making sexual jokes and comments. Teenage boys and girls alike are notoriously emotional and hormonal between the ages of 12 and 14. I can also imagine Mingyu drawing penises on whiteboards, complete with elaborate pubic hair. These are the antics of a typical middle school boy. For some reason, teenage boys—at least in North America—are very fascinated by their own genitalia and like to announce they have one by drawing pictures of dicks on any available surface. 

The second philosophy I abide by is that men and boys in power are likely to abuse it. All men—even k-pop idols—benefit from patriarchy. They are in a position to abuse, degrade, and humiliate women (obviously, I hope none of these things happen, but I also have to acknowledge the possibility that they do). This is especially true in patriarchal Asian societies. Someone as popular and attractive as Mingyu holds great influence and power in his peer groups. Can I see a young Mingyu being a dick to a girl who is quiet and timid and isolated from her peers? Yes.

But also… Who wasn’t a dick in middle school? I feel like my classmates and I were colossal idiots back then. Was it just my school where classmates told each other to shut up all the time? Was it just my school where kids put their thumb and forefinger in an “L” shape to their foreheads and called each other losers? Everyone has a different threshold for what they consider bullying, but for me, these gestures and comments were so commonplace that I merely accepted them as part of the elementary and middle school experience. These things are mean and insensitive, yes, but it’s possible to grow out of these antics.

It is difficult for me to form an opinion about these sexual jokes Mingyu made for two reasons: (1) cultural differences, and thus my own internal biases, and (2) we don’t know about the nature of these jokes. It’s hard to determine whether these comments constitute as sexual harassment without this context. Even then, people have different thresholds of what they are comfortable with, and what they are not comfortable with.

We don’t know whether these comments were along the lines of “That’s what she said” or “You know what else is big?” or “I grow hair down there...on my toes!” ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Or if they were jokes about sexual experience/performance, speculation about what someone looks like naked, the colour of their underwear, or raping a person (I’ve often seen these “jokes” directed at female streamers and influencers). In my opinion, there’s a big difference between the two. 

The former, while crude and immature, is not generally said with ill-intent, nor is it generally directed at a specific person. These are jokes that teens, both male and female, commonly make in North America. (Perhaps this is part of the problem: the fact that I consider this to be standard teenage behaviour...) I would hesitate to call it harassment unless the victim made it known that she was uncomfortable, and the boys continued anyway. I also understand that the victim may not have felt able to speak out against Mingyu and his friends. In this case, the boys might not have been aware of her discomfort. Teenage boys are not particularly well-known for being sensitive. 

The latter, however, objectifies and diminishes a person, and is disgusting and reprehensible. The latter is, without contest, sexual harassment. Absolutely no one should have to tolerate comments of this nature. Anyone who makes such jokes should be educated on why these so-called jokes are damaging, and how they perpetuate rape culture, as well as the sexualisation and dehumanisation of women, as well as men. Anyone who makes comments of this nature should be called out (and here I emphasise called out as opposed to cancelled) for their behaviour. It is imperative that they are educated, given the opportunity to reflect, apologise, and make amends. This is with the hope they know better in the future and do not make the same mistake again. 

Now, based on what OP said, the jokes Mingyu made seem more like the first case: he made a pun about body hair. I am pretty sure if Mingyu made “jokes” of the second nature, OP would have chosen to highlight that instead of a pun. However, this is something that needs to be clarified. The content of these jokes drastically changes the severity of the allegations.

Currently, I interpret this through the lens of my uncouth Western sensibilities: what OP described sounds like typical Western teen behaviour. There are many actions, events, and experiences that take place during our formative and adolescent years that come to define who we are as adults. Personally, I don’t think that drawing hairy penises on the whiteboard—inappropriate as it is—or being an asshole in middle school are these things.

But who am I to say, “Yeah, what OP went through was not that bad”? I can’t be the judge of that, and that’s absolutely not what I’m trying to do here. I don’t know the whole story, and even then, it doesn’t matter. I am an outsider in all of this. I’m not trying to diminish the years of suffering and torment the victim went through, and I apologise if that’s how I came off. Nothing I said previously changes the fact that these jokes negatively affected the victim. Nothing I said changes the fact that this girl’s voice was silenced because of some thoughtless middle school boy’s comments. These are wounds that people carry from childhood through to adulthood.

Impact matters just as much as intent. I might argue that in cases such as these, impact matters even more than intent. Mingyu might have done all these things without ill-intent, but OP’s trauma is very much real. (As a side note: This is one of the reasons why I am very happy with Pledis’ official statement. Their focus on healing and reparation—without absolving Mingyu or throwing him under the bus (yet)—is the right move.)

I’ve just been seeing so many death threats and demands for Mingyu to leave the group that I cannot help but wish people would extend him the empathy that they themselves would appreciate.

People are condemning a 12-14 year old Mingyu for making sexual puns and being an asshole. People are measuring a middle school aged-Mingyu against the ethical and moral standards they hold as adults, and they are finding that this young Mingyu fell short. This should not be surprising. I know if I judged younger-me by the standards I have today, I would be left wanting. 

I remember the kind of person I was as a teenager. I was hormonal. I made “That’s what she said” jokes, among others. While I never intentionally set out to hurt anyone, I know I have said crude and unkind things. As a teenager, I didn’t possess the tact I do now; I didn’t know how to self-regulate. I could be a mean and horny kid (not necessarily at the same time, haha!), but I also had parts of me that were deeply sensitive and caring and thoughtful of others. Teenagers and adults are multi-faceted. I would not want anyone to dig up these past receipts and use it as the basis to judge the person I am now. I would not want people to pick out the worst of my past actions and words, and use it to invalidate my success today. 

It varies case by case, but for the most part, I don’t think people should be punished for what they did or said as children; I would have been cancelled long ago if this were the case, as would many others. People change as they grow older and become more educated and informed. It is different if these behaviours and actions persist into adulthood. Then, yes: there should absolutely be consequences. I am not saying we can just sweep all our childhood wrongdoings under the rug. It is still important for us to acknowledge and reflect upon the wrongs of past words and actions, and to offer apologies and reparations where they are due.  

Should these allegations prove true, can I support both OP and Mingyu, or is that cheating? I do believe OP and my heart goes out to her. I understand why she chose to speak out. I know it must have been difficult to do so against someone who is a man, famous, well-loved, wealthy, and successful. I know it must hurt to see the whole world adore a man who has caused you pain. South Korea has a culture of enduring silently; this results in great mental strain and suffering. In speaking out, she relived past and present power imbalances. This is not easy for a victim to do, especially when you are a woman in a patriarchal society and your bully is a male celebrity.

I hope I am not invalidating her feelings when I reiterate that Mingyu was a young teenager, and teenagers can be mean and crude—intentionally or not. Mingyu is a public figure, so naturally, he is held to higher moral standards. But he is also human. He can and will make mistakes. He can and will continue to grow. I feel a lot of empathy for Mingyu, both now as he is forced to confront his past immaturities, and as he moves forward in his career. 

Thoughts on additional allegations (KakaoTalk group chat + ableism)

I will not be addressing allegations of Mingyu bullying a classmate with autism now that the issue has been resolved. (Again, I commend Pledis for their response, and for recognising that the ableism needed to be addressed first. Of the three l accusations, this was the one that Mingyu would not be able to recover from. Even now, he will not emerge from this unscathed). I will only be sharing my initial misgivings about these additional allegations.

First off, this is a very nuanced and precarious topic. I don’t want to diminish a potential victim’s experience, yet I hope people understand why I am so skeptical about accepting screenshots of chat rooms as hard proof. Here are a few reasons why:

(1) Bullying scandals have been erupting left and right, especially as of late. Some of these accusations have been proved true. Others have been proved false. Regardless, there seems to be a trend of digging up past receipts—fabricated or not—of celebrities with the aim of cancelling them or undermining their success. 

(2) Screenshots and chat rooms are easily manipulated and fabricated. This is different from a victim with a face speaking out against past incidents of bullying. They could be someone with malicious intent, or they could be a genuine victim. We just don’t know. And in the case of the chat rooms, it wasn’t even the victims who were speaking out.

(3) I wondered if these were antis who jumped on the coattails of the initial OP to stir the pot. These allegations (particularly the case of ableism, which has thankfully been cleared up now) are far more serious than original claims—why wait until now to bring them up?

(4) I find it difficult to trust even yearbook proof because people can and will sell yearbooks if they went to school with idols. In addition, yearbooks cannot prove interaction, and therefore, cannot prove bullying. At the same time, how do you prove bullying incidents from ten years ago? How do you disprove it? Cases of bullying aren’t often well-documented. It essentially becomes a game of my-word-against-yours. 

(5) There is a pretty well-known article from 2016 where Mingyu defended a classmate with a disability. It doesn’t necessarily disprove the current claim, but the timing is important here. The classmate shared their account back in 2016; it did not just surface after recent allegations. However, if I want to believe that the KKT screenshots are false, then I must also be willing to believe that this 2016 article may have been fabricated as well.

(6) As someone in their 20s, the thought of being in a group chat with a bunch of my middle school classmates is baffling to me. Personally, I don’t want anything to do with my middle school classmates.

There is not much more to say on this; I will patiently wait for Pledis’ statement on the remaining allegations.

Achieving Escape Velocity and other MinWon stories

In a previous blog post, I stated that when I write and talk about AEV-Mingyu and Wonwoo—or other variations of Mingyu and Wonwoo—they are strictly characters that I have made up in my head, and they are separate from the real Mingyu and Wonwoo. At the same time, I do absolutely draw inspiration from the real Mingyu and Wonwoo in the creation of these story characters. It is their faces, bodies, and voices that I imagine. Thus, my current anxieties surrounding this situation make it difficult for me to write and enjoy AEV.

However, I still love this story a lot, and I love sharing it with everyone! There’s so much more to this fic that I want to show. As I mentioned in the initial author’s note, this is the first time I’m posting something of this length and I worked really hard on it. For these reasons, I have every intention of continuing to write and update Achieving Escape Velocity. Regular weekly updates will resume this coming weekend.

[aylinaliens]

One invisible gold thread (tied me to you) — Chapter 1

Fandom: 2Gether

Pairings: Earn/Pear, Pear/Air, Sarawat/Tine, Ohm/Fong

Summary: Soulmate did not always equate to romance, most spend their lives together as platonically. That is exactly what Earn thought would happen with Pear—but as they spent more time together in person, Earn struggles to calm the raging storm of emotions in her heart. Soon enough, Earn finds herself drawn in like a moth to a flame, Pear’s soft bubblegum pink cardigan and bright eyes serving as balm to her soul. At first, Earn just denies what she feels inside, claiming that the only reason her throat closed up when she was in the proximity of the soft-spoken medical student was because of indigestion. As Earn spends more time with her soulmate, she begins to struggle with understanding the intricacies of her own sexuality, but realization never actually dawns on her until she finds out someone was actively pursuing Pear. That was when Earn starts to come to turns with her feelings...but it was too late now. Right?

Word Count: 1779

Notes: in honor of 2gether the movie being announced i have decided to finally post this because let’s be honest...gmmtv is going to clown on us earnpear shippers again. i typically hate love triangles but dear uranus has made me realize that wlw!love triangles are God Tier so thus this fic was born. hope you like tropes because !! this fic will have it all. soulmates? roommates? fake dating? mutual pining? friends to lovers? unrequited love? bed sharing? friends with benefits? it’s what these sapphics deserve

Read the first chapter on Ao3 or down below!

+

Curiously, Earn lifted her arm and brought it closer to her face so she could examine it. Sarawat obviously understood what was happening, also recently finding his soulmate, so he just leaned back in his seat, sipping on his drink, and quietly observing the own messages on his forearm.

After nearly seven minutes of waiting Pear was done and it was...definitely not doodle of a cat. No, it was something else.

“Oh god. Did she draw a penis?”

Sarawat choked on his drink in surprise. “What?” He gaped. “What did you just say?”

“I said my soulmate just drew an anatomically correct penis on my arm.”

A familiar fluttering sensation cursed through Earn’s body, signaling another message has appeared. She was mid conversation with Sarawat in the process of telling him what time their gig for tomorrow was but never got to.

Full of excitement and butterflies Earn quickly yanked her sleeve up—it’s been thirty six hours since her soulmate last sent a message. It was normal for Pear to disappear for days on end so Earn was used to the delayed reply.

As she glanced down at her forearm she expected to see a reply to the conversation she asked a few days ago but instead it was a drawing.

Once again no big deal—Pear was artistic. She had always sent doodles to Earn.

However, this drawing was not simply just of animals or flowers. She couldn’t exactly tell what it was right now because Pear was still drawing it.

Curiously, Earn lifted her arm and brought it closer to her face so she could examine it. Sarawat obviously understood what was happening, also recently finding his soulmate, so he just leaned back in his seat, sipping on his drink, and quietly observing the own messages on his forearm.

After nearly seven minutes of waiting Pear was done and it was...definitely not doodle of a cat. No, it was something else.

“Oh god. Did she draw a penis?”

Sarawat choked on his drink in surprise. “What?” He gasped. “What did you just say?”

“I said my soulmate just drew an anatomically correct penis on my arm.”

Sarawat looked shocked and positively scandalized but he was not the only one. Earn was just as confused. She held her arm up for him to see and after a few seconds of studying it he came to the same conclusion.

“She drew an anatomically correct penis on your arm. With labels. Why did she send you an anatomically correct penis on your arm?”

Earn lifted her shoulder up in a shrug, leaning down to rummage through her bag to find a pen. Once she did she yanked the cap off and scribbled a quick message.

um...is there like context or a reason that you drew that?

She waited awhile for a reply, staring intently down at her arm for any new piece of ink. It did not matter how long she waited it never came. At least a reply to that question never came. As she studied her arm for what seem like forever the conversation with Sarawat died away.

He knew she was far too preoccupied with with waiting for a message to appear. He was probably the only one in the band who could truly understand what Earn was feeling since he was the only one who had recently discovered his soulmate mark.

Tine was terrible, if not more so, at replying in a timely matter. Sometimes Tine would wait hours just to answer back with a single letter, either forgetting to reply or simply not noticing it.

So Earn waited. Minute after minute. Nothing. Just as she was about to give up that familiar fluttering sensation came back, making her heart soar.

But it was not a reply to Earn’s question. No. It wasn’t even a word.

It was just a smaller anatomically correct penis that was colored in instead of labeling.

Earn pursed her lips in bewilderment but decided that she obviously would not get a reply any time soon.

“I don’t know.” She admitted, shrugging once more. “I really don’t know.”

The first Earn noticed her soulmate mark she was seventeen. She had gym during school today so in between classes she hoped in the shower for a quick rinse off. She didn’t notice any ink nor did she feel abnormal as she scrubbed the dirt and sweat away.

It was afterwards, when she was towel drying her body and trying to slip back on her uniform that she saw pink ink near her wrist.

Confusion coursed through her as she brought her arm toward the light for a better look. She didn’t remember writing anything on her arms.

At first Earn didn’t quite understood what it said due to how faint it was but the longer she stared the more she could understand it.

Mitochondria is the powerhouse cell.

She was shocked, that was sure, but she didn’t have time to think too critically about it because the bell signifying her next class was about to begin snapped her out of it.

Earn forgot about that day in the shower for a few weeks. She knew that soulmates and soul marks were real but it never registered to Earn that was what it was. She didn’t have a soulmate. No way did she have a soulmate. Earn just...forgot that she wrote that. Yeah. That is exactly what happened.

It wasn’t until she was laying in bed one day, laptop perched on her lap as she hummed along to her favorite band, that the memory of that day came flooding back.

A stinging sensation started at the base of her spine and slowly traveled up until her fingertips were tingling and her her throat was constricting. Soon enough the sensation had made its way all over he body, from her fingertips to her toes Earn felt it.

It didn’t hurt, quite the opposite, but it was enough to pause what she was doing.

Then the stinging feeling evaporated into thin air. It was like it never happened. Instead it was replaced by something akin to butterflies but vastly more intense.

A half done math equation appeared near her elbow. A math equation Earn never even learned.

A few beats of silence passed before more ink appeared. It was of a cartoon bunny holding up a sign that that had a phrase on it: Susu Pear!

Earn could no longer pretend like she forgot about writing on her arm. No. This was a soulmate mark.

She practically threw off her laptop off and hastily scrambled out of bed to her desk to grab a pen. Once she found one she tore off the cap and scribbled out a word, feeling as if her heart would leap out of her chest.

hello?

Earn waited for a reply what seemed like years but in reality it was only half a minute.

...hello?

Oh god. Oh my god. She had a soulmate.

None of her friends of family got their soulmate marks yet so she was utterly confused on what to do next. She could search the web for answers but she was scared that her soulmate would disappear.

cute bunny drawing. is your name pear?

The reply was almost instantaneously, showing up before Earn even finished her own message.

thank you! yes, my name is pear. what’s your name?

Before Earn could reply again Pear wrote something else back, just below her previous message.

you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to! i know that some people ignore their soulmate marks.

Butterflies erupted in Earn’s stomach once again but this time it was not because of the ink. Soulmate. Pear just confirmed it. There was no backing out of it now.

my name is earn and...i don’t want to ignore this. unless...you want to?

no! i don’t want to ignore this. i want to um, get to know you. can we do that?

of course. what do you want to know?

everything.

That’s exactly what Earn did, she told Pear everything. Not that night but over the next few years they essentially bared their souls to each other in every sense of the word. Sometimes they would write whole entire essays to each other, forced to erase the earlier conversations or come up with new creative places to write. Sometimes they would send doodles back in forth.

After a few months of talking when the two settled into a comfortable routine, somehow becoming each others biggest supporters. Before every exam, Pear would send Earn the same little cartoon bunny cartoon drawing. Every time the message on the poster was different.

susu earn!

you can do it.

good luck!

earn! you got this!

i'm always rooting for you!

you got this, babe!

Sometimes the messages were so cheesy that Earn felt color flood her cheeks and often never replied because she didn’t know what to say. She would feign innocence when this happened, claiming she was just so nervous about her exam that she forgot to reply.

It was ridiculous—she was so tongue tied and bashful over the same messages you would find on motivational stickers. If anyone else drew these things Earn would think it was dumb but because it was from Pear she thought it utterly adorable.

Earn in return took up to expanding Pear’s musical knowledge and interests. She would use her arms to write down random bits of lyrics she thought of instead of on paper. Pear always took care to never erase those lyrics until Earn gave her the green light.

However, most of the time they just talked. About anything. About nothing. After a few years went by of this Earn grew fond of the soulmate she knew virtually everything yet nothing about.

Unlike most people who got soulmate marks she dated. It was nothing serious, it never was, but she got to experience many different firsts.

Pear, on the other hand, apparently never dated—before or after the soulmate mark appeared—swearing she was far too busy with trying to get into college and than medical school to date. Besides, she wrote one day, I have you. That’s enough.

Messages like that always left Earn melting into a puddle of goo. The thing with soulmates is that they didn’t exactly have to be romantic. Hundreds of thousands of soulmates got their mark but decided to just stay platonic. That’s exactly what Earn thought would happen to them.

It’s not as if she never thought about them in a romantic sense, Earn did more than she cared to admit, but she would always quickly shake out of when she realized that it would never between them too like that.

It has been almost four years and neither of them has asked to meet yet. Surely if they wanted to meet each other they could of. At the start they found out that they only lived three hours apart. After they began college, Earn and Pear found out that they were even closer to each other.

Yet they always managed to skirt around that topic. It would happen one day or it never will Earn wrote one day either way let's just stay like this while we wait for that day to come.

[thethousandyearwitch]

The Show Must Go On! Chap. 5

- A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need -

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 5 “Grief of Want” out now!

AO3 Link. 

Killua held his phone close to his chest, face flushed almost painfully.

GON: I appreciate you too.

That message had knocked the wind out of the young boy, his heart was racing. It had taken him so much energy to text Gon that he appreciated him, had multiple texts written and deleted that ended in ‘I’m glad you’re my friend’ because in the end he still couldn’t bring himself to say that word, but this had been close enough.

The grip around his phone tightened. The feeling was mutual, mutual appreciation, mutual support, and now Killua got to keep its existence close to his heart and locked away there.

Somewhere in the mansion, his mother harshly ordered some butlers to prepare tea and snacks. He locked his door again, not willing to be bribed outside of his room with bland biscuits and bitter tea.

It wouldn’t hurt to look up prices for flights, he thought to himself.

Did Milluki ever change his credit card code?

.

.

.

Illumi shifted in his chair as recording for Hisoka’s new video started. Unlike his colleague next to him, who blossomed under the attention of a camera lens, Illumi never knew how to move his body, what to do with his face. After appearing for the first time in a collab with the other, he had been told through the comments that he looks like a mannequin if he didn’t move, and then had been told that that was most likely an insult.

Hisoka went over his regular introductions, explaining the fashion week, how he was going to fashion his make up to match the suit he was wearing-

“…designed by my good colleague, Illumi Zoldyck!” the artist made some flowery hand gestures towards Illumis person.

“Ah, thank you for having me.” The Zoldyck bowed his head a little, before returning to his straight posture.

Hisoka wore a professional smile on his lips, that seemed so inherently different from the masks that Illumi was usually surrounded by. He didn’t hide that glint in his golden eyes, that gave away how easily he’d launch at the throats of his competition at the first show of weakness. Illumi wondered if that glint was directed at him when he wasn’t looking, if the company he’s started to warm up to was secretly waiting for him to do just that, only to immediately slaughter him.

“Now I understand you’re going to upload a process video of this beautiful piece on your channel, but why not give my viewers a little insight into your inspiration for it?”

Oh.

The slaughter had come quicker than expected. He decided he did not like the rushing fear and anxiety. He didn’t like the prying, golden eyes fixated on only him, as if he knew.

As if Hisoka knew that Illumi designed the suit that last new years eve, huddled away in his room because everyone was too loud and too much, and it didn’t really matter if he was there or not. It was cold, and he felt indifferent to a new year starting, convinced it was going to be the same as the last; Run errands for the company, watch Killua turn into the neatly moulded heir to the fortune that he had been chosen to be, get all his designs rejected because he should just finally drop that hobby of his. And it would have been a miserable and yet indifferent night like any other, if at exactly 12 a.m. he wouldn’t have gotten the single text:

“Hisoka M.: Happy New Year, darling Illumi ❤ Lets work hard together this year as well, as if you’d ever get rid of me~ “

Illumi wanted to blame it on being cold, or that his senses were confused by all the lights and sounds. But it felt nice to be thought of, and it felt nice to be encouraged. He wanted to return this unfamiliar kindness; in the only way he knew how, not with words but with the only thing he deemed himself good at.

He designed a suit for Hisoka, and for Hisoka only. Moulded to his features, personality, and likes. Obviously, he had succeeded, seeing his work on his muse.

But he could never tell Hisoka all of that, and he could never tell it to his millions of followers.

So, instead he simply said "I had the idea for a denim suit in this sort of cut after being inspired by western movies. I wanted to bring the concept closer to our modern age with the fine white, and the colourful card-suits as an accent to poker games as a typical western movie activity."

He looked to Hisoka for approval, who simply smiled and clapped his hands together.

"Right, how fun! Maybe we should go horseback riding together after this, I know a couple of cowboy movies to re-enact~."

Before the Zoldyck could reply with an appropriate reaction -disgust, he thought - Hisoka smoothly transitioned to the next part of the video, explaining what make up look he had in mind, what brands he was going to use, and hissing to his future editing-self to cut out the part where he called his sponsor a "fucking cheapskate".

The artist knew what he was doing, how to best keep his viewers engaged, and how to host a blank-slate guest such as Illumi. On their first collaboration, conversation had been kept to a minimum, but slowly they had found a rhythm to work in, a question and answer to keep air in motion.

"You don't use a lot of makeup, right, Illumi?" Hisoka was almost done applying a powdered foundation, that seemed mixed just to fit his skin.

"Most days I just apply a light moisturizer before I go to bed."

“I don’t doubt that, you’ve got impeccable skin.”

Illumi hesitated at Hisokas purr, “…Thank you.”

The other giggled devilishly, in the way that the designer knew never meant any good. “So, since you don’t use make up, you’re probably helpless when it comes to applying it.”

“I may not have years of experience, but I believe I’d be able to apply it adequately and-“ Before he could finish his sentence, the other man presented him with a lipstick. “Then would you do the honours of applying my lipstick for me? Unless you’re doubting your abilities suddenly.”

Of course, he’d go for a childish challenge like this, Illumi thought while he mustered the rich red colour of the lipstick, perfectly matched to the red values of the suit. He still had the option to refuse, to cut this out in final editing, to continue being a still doll that would occasionally speak. But instead, he grabbed Hisoka’s chin with a slight uptilt. “Open your mouth a little.” “Oh, Illumi, on the first date alrea-“Illumi pressed the tips of his nails into the others cheeks, which resulted in an excited, yet obedient Hisoka.

The colour came easily and evenly onto his lips as Illumi carefully drew across the curvature, the heat of the artists’ skin seeping into his own. Up close as he was, he could notice all the details in the others face. No scars, evenly tanned, a hint of smile lines around his golden eyes. Illumi thought that he was objectively attractive, and there was nothing wrong with being able to admit that another man had symmetric facial features that were appealing to the eyes. “Handsome face, rotten personality, someday he will make a lovely girl absolutely miserable.” is what Kikyo Zoldyck had initially said after she had watched their first collaboration together. “Illumi? Are you painting the mona lisa on me?” Hisoka had slightly retracted out of the others grip, and he smiled as if he knew what he was thinking. Illumi withdrew his hand, straightened his back, and averted his eyes. “I was merely admiring the quality of this lipstick. What was it?”  

Distraction via brand pushing, very effective against Hisoka, who immediately snapped back towards the camera, presenting the makeup closer. “Of course! It’s the new Gucci line of matte lipsticks, this is number 500, Odalie Red, I am head over heels for this beauty!”

.

.

.

.

The rest of the filming process went over relatively smoothly, safe for when Hisoka sneezed so loud that Illumi visibly startled, and when Illumi had to scold Hisoka about wrinkling the suit.

Click. Hisoka turned the camera off, and Illumi laid his head on the table. Filming exhausted him, he didn’t like to maintain his public persona for that long, even though he had been bred to be able to do so. Even though he was no longer the heir. Even though he was the oldest and most capable.

A pleasant coolness took him out of whatever dangerous train of thought he was about to board, and he looked up to see Hisoka offering a bottle of sparkling water. “Good work today~”

His fingers wrapped around the cool glass bottle. “Thank you, you too. I’m pleasantly surprised, you planned out an actual look for today.”

The makeup artist settled back in his chair with a light laugh. “I didn’t want to disappoint you, after you spoil me so well~. I look like I could walk the fashion show myself.”

“You do look very handsome.” Illumi took a sip of his water before he realized what he had said.

Hisoka stared at him, mouth agape.

“It’s probably just the suit complimenting your features-”

Silence.

“I mean, anyone looks handsome if you plaster them with tons of makeup like that-”

Blink, blink.

“And even if you were to look handsome, that doesn’t fix your horrid core-”

Before he could think of any more explanations and excuses for what he said, Illumi was pulled into a hug, his head tucked firmly under Hisoka’s chin, arms wrapped around him. “You’re being an absolute dear today, my dear Illumi~ You may look at me like you want to rip off my head, but I can tell you still are happy to visit!”

And naturally he wanted to protest, wanted to hurl insults at him, and regain his personal space. But just for a second, he didn’t want to struggle. He just wanted to take in the warmth that was enveloping him, smell the natural sweetness lingering in the air, and embrace human contact as anyone with a normal upbringing would.

One.

His hand shot up to grip around Hisoka’s throat. “Do you want to live to see tonight’s show, or are you going to keep suffocating me?”

Immediately Hisoka held his arms up, and the warmth was gone. Illumi patted down his shirt, straightened his collar, and checked his hair in the mirror. It was almost time to leave, if he wanted to be in time to prepare the models and do last minute adjustments.

“Unfortunately, I’ll only live to see the livestream from the comfort of my home.”

“Oh?”

Hisoka started wiping the makeup off his face, a new box of makeup remover being ripped open. “The model I was assigned to for tonight ended up dropping the contract last minute, meaning that my ticket is only effective starting night two.”

“Oh, I see.” Illumi stood up and mustered himself again, checking for any flaws. Somehow, he felt disappointed. “Well, I have to leave anyways, I still need to check the fit of everything.” He had to go and check the fit of the collection he was premiering and Hisoka will not be able to see it, and he was disappointed.

“I will pick you up before the second night then, so you don’t have to show up in a cheap taxi again-“He reached out for his bag to swiftly leave through the door, but Hisoka grabbed his wrist, and pulled him into another tight hug.

“I thought you wanted to live to see the show.”

“And I will, and I’ll be there on time to see your premiere, that’s a promise~” The taller man pressed a quick kiss on top of his head, still bearing a sly grin as Illumi ripped himself free once again.

“Don’t do anything stupid, especially not while you’re associating with me.” A pointed finger, and a death stare were the last things Illumi presented to Hisoka as he rushed through the door. He only heard a muffled “But you know me~!” while he descended the stairs.

Subconsciously he ran his fingers over where Hisoka’s lips touched his head.

.

.

.

.

Preparations were quickly dealt with. Illumis overly neat and controlled way of working had paid off. No further adjustments to clothes had to be made, all models were prepared and let themselves be pushed and pulled as needed. He scanned the crowd behind the curtains, as his models started to line up. In the front row, he spotted one of his mothers’ commissioned writers, a young plain girl, short black hair, and framed glasses, reading over her notes.

He knew she wasn’t going to take notes during his premiere, because she didn’t get paid for that. Because his parents have already told him that his designs will not make it into the magazine. It was only a hobby after all. The single distraction he was allowed to have from his duties for the company. They didn’t have the need to show off his little hobby in the magazine, like a crayon drawing on the fridge.

The music started, the curtains opened, and Illumi stepped to the side of the stage. The beat of the music mixed with the hard beating of his heart in his chest. Anxiously he scanned the crowd for reactions, though camera flashes blinded him quicker than he could look. It was a short premiere, sandwiched between two bigger brands showcasing new seasons. The last 3 models walked down the catwalk, Illumis eyes following them closely.

But at the end of the stage, his eyes wandered deep into the crowd. And a pink flash at the very end drew his attention.

It unmistakably was Hisoka, hair let down, wearing thick sunglasses and a plain black suit, lips curled into a smile, leaned lazily against the wall.

He came.

How the hell did he come in here without a ticket.

He had no ticket, but he came, and he saw.

And as fast as he appeared, he was gone, disappearing behind someone else’s figure as the last model left the stage.

He forced himself to look away, thanked the models for their work, and left the backstage area in favour for the VIP lounge, finally taking out his phone.

One new message.

“Hisoka M.: It was breath-taking, caro mio ♥”

“Illumi: Don’t get caught, Idiot.”

Someone handed him a glass of champagne and asked questions about the family magazine.

“Illumi: Let me pick you up tomorrow for the event. You’re the least despicable person here.”

[spookyc]

I sure do!!

Well then, I shall divulge.

So, in my talentswap Kiyo is the protagonist as he is the ultimate detective. Originally this was just because I thought it fit but I definitely have more of a definite reason as to why I chose him for the ultimate detective. So a big thing I wanna do with this au, is to give more of the unpopular characters a spotlight, this can be seen with the main central group of the game, Kiyo as the ultimate detective, Tenko as the ultimate astronaut, and Angie as the ultimate child caretaker/assassin. (Which, yeah, It's kinda funny how these three ended up being the main trio considering what happened with them in canon) And when I played v3 I always thought Kiyo was super interesting, not only his talent but also his entire personality. It was so unlike what you would expect from the typical dr cast, I mean the creepy guy of the cast isn't the main antagonist? It was so different and it drew me towards his character, and I even indulged in a few of his free times which were always super fun just because I learned something new with each one.

And then, well, chapter 3 happened. I don't believe I have to explain what happened with that. I remember being kinda bummed out, I mean, the creepy weirdo just ended up being a creepy weirdo, a creepy weirdo who was abused by his shitty sister, but a creepy weirdo nonetheless. Didn't help that I have a brother that I'm decently close with; the entire thing just made me very uncomfortable. So I figured it would be super interesting to go through a story with Kiyo's lenses, to understand why he believes the things that he does and to give him a second chance, in a way.

Also when I really sat down and thought about it, it made a lot of sense to me. Like, in this au I want to keep their backstories intact, (for the most part) and I also wanna keep the fact that they were originally pursuing their canon talents until an event happens that changes their mind. So originally Kiyo was still gonna go for the anthropolgy route, but on one of his vacations, he happened upon a murder case. In the beginning he planned to just observe how the scene would play out, but because he's so attuned with people, he ends up finding out the killer and has him arrested. After this he becomes fascinated with criminals, about their ideologies, their psychology, the history behind past criminals. And so he then redirects his path towards that of a detective, perhaps partially out of a sense of justice, but mainly out of a morbid curiosity to see, "how far the depths of humanity can go."

I also noticed how in the canon story Kiyo often likes to observe others and sorta likes to stay neutral on most topics and I feel this would really benefit him as a detective. But yeah! That's essentially the reason I decided to make him the ultimate detective but let's dive into more of his background and how he grows throughout the story.

So, let's just go ahead and get this out the way. The sister issue. Now, as I stated before, I have a brother I'm close with myself so the entire incestuous relationship with Kiyo and his sister makes me deeply uncomfortable. So I'm sorta divided on two options. 1. I could eradicate sister from Kiyo's story completely and pretend she never existed. Or 2. I keep sister but simply change the form of abuse she inflicts on Kiyo. I'm leaning more towards the second option as this way I'm not just neglecting the abuse Kiyo went through, but I also don't have to make myself uncomfortable by acknowledging the incest stuff.

Anyway! Moving on to the more exciting stuff. So, I still want to have Kiyo involved with the occult, or at least he used to be. See, possibly a year or two ago, (and possibly in regards to sister's death but I'm undecided on that) Kiyo performs a ritual that goes horribly wrong. And the result of this ritual enables Kiyo to see and hear the spirits of the departed. And while at first it was intriguing, it soon became annoying at best and mentally draining at worst. It's simply a fact of life he has to deal with, and due to this power he can see and hear the ghosts of his dead classmates throughout the story. Which is both a blessing and a curse.

Now, as for his development throughout the story, here's what I'm thinking. Now, Kiyo doesn't really have many confidence issues, he's proud in his line of work and he's unapologetic about his beliefs and such. And I wouldn't really wanna repeat Shuichi's storyline anyway. So, for this au, I think Kiyo's arc throughout the game will be learning to trust and gain acceptance amongst people he loves. Rather than the twisted perception of love that Kiyo gives off in canon, I'd want Kiyo's result from sister's abuse to be that no one loves him and no one ever will.

He then begins to believe that love doesn't exist, and not just romantic love, but any kind of love. But rather than grow depressed by this fact, Kiyo uses it as a way to uplift himself. Telling himself that he doesn't need love and that he's perfectly fine being alone. To put it bluntly he's basically just coping from the abuse, trying to use it as shield to protect himself when in reality it's just a sword pointed at himself. But then again, what reason would he have for not believing this? This very concept is what's made him such a great detective.

He doesn't take sides because he can't understand the reasoning behind either side, not in an emotional way anyway. And even though he's incredibly successful in his work, there's a part of him deep down that is terribly lonely. A part of him that longs for company, a part of him that wishes he knew why hatred always burns in the eyes of those he arrests. And it isn't until he's kidnapped and taken to the Ultimate Academy that he finally has to acknowledge this part of himself. This starts with his relationship with Tenko.

Which, as you might expect, doesn't start too well. Tenko of course still has her "degenerate male philosophy" (though after chapter 1 this part of her becomes severely toned down and we get to see what her actual character is like sorta like what canon should have done before chapter 3) but Tsumugi, (ultimate pianist) accompanies Kiyo for a lot of chapter 1 and this sort of slowly warms Tenko up to Kiyo. After chapter 1 tho, when Kiyo flawlessly solves the first case, Tenko sees how useful Kiyo is and grows a sort of begrudging respect for him. After the trial she congratulates him on a job well done and Kiyo appreciates the gesture, obviously being able to tell that it wasn't something she was particularly ecstatic to do. Chapter 2 comes around and if you read my ask about Maki (ultimate artist) , you know this is when she starts spreading the "rumor" that Angie is an assassin.

Kiyo initially doesn't buy this at all, because even though he's exceptionally good at reading people, Angie is a total blank for him, so he can't really confirm or deny the rumors. What he does notice, though, is that Tenko seems to he strangely angry at these rumors, growing visibily distressed whenever Maki brings them up. He doesn't really get it, seeing as though he's only seen the two talking a handful of times, but he brushes it off but he doesn't get involved with people's personal bis. Until Tenko comes to him. He's surprised to see her and even more surprised to see the angry expression on her face.

She tells him that they can't keep letting this go on. He asks what and she responds with the rumors. He agrees that the rumors have gotten out of hand but he asks her what she wants him to do about it. She tells him that he is the only one that the others will believe. And he's like, fair enough, but why do you care so much. And she responds saying, "Because I have her motive video." Kiyo is shocked by this info and asks why she can't just tell them herself. And she says that, "Well, because the rumors are true, she is the ultimate assassin."

Kiyo is again flabbergasted and asks Tenko if she intends on him lying and she says yes. He asks her why, in the most sincerest tone, truly not understanding why anyone would go this far to lie about someone they hardly know, Tenko responds. "Because something isn't right, Monokuma has to be playing some trick, there's no way Angie is capable of murder." Kiyo still doesn't understand, but seeing the fierce determination in her eyes, he knows he won't be able to refuse her offer. And so he agrees that tomorrow he will do his best to dispel the rumors about Angie and convince everyone that she isn't an assassin. And then, the very next day, another body is discovered.

Immediately the opportunity to clear the air is gone in the mass confusion. And it's not long after that everyone begins to pin their blame on Angie. So, Tenko approaches Kiyo again asking if she can accompany Kiyo on his investigation, but only on the basis of defending Angie. Kiyo, who isn't used to working with others, hesitantly agrees and the two form a reluctant partnership. Kiyo initially plans to work on his own but after Tenko finds a few vital pieces of evidence he grows more accustomed to her presence and the two actually bond quite a bit, although they don't admit it.

Eventually the investigation ends and the two head to the trial together, convinced that Angie isn't the killer. Of course the main lie of this trial is that Angie is not the ultimate assassin, the only real thing that was pinning her to this case. After that is cleared up, Kiyo, along with some help from Tenko, solve the case. All is well and good with the world it seems, until Maki speaks up. She asks Monokuma to show Angie's motive video, just to be 100% sure that she isn't the ultimate assassin.

Immediately Tenko retorts, saying that they already cleared up that she wasn't but Maki replies.

"Well, if you're so sure that Angie isn't an assassin, then you should have no problem with me showing this right?"

"Unless, you know something we don't?"

The others agree with Maki and demand that the motive video be shown. Tenko looks to Kiyo, demanding he do something but Kiyo shakes his head. "They're too far gone now." Tenko clenches her fists, but doesn't say another word. With a grin of pure malice, Maki tells Monokuma to show the video and he complies, if a bit reluctantly due to Maki's tone. The video plays and the truth is revealed, Angie is the ultimate assassin.

After the video the students erupt into an uproar, angrily turning towards Tenko and Kiyo and demanding why they lied. Tenko responds that if they hadn't lied, the rest of the students would have gotten them killed. They also turn on Kiyo, asking why a detective would lie. He responds saying it was the only way to get to the truth. He also adds that Angie being an assassin had nothing to with this case, they already determined the true killer.

But despite their statements many of the students are still outraged as they mount the elevator. They also notice Angie is not with them, as she seems to have disappeared during the chaos. Two individuals however observe the scene with twisted glee, Maki and Kiibo (ultimate supreme leader). After everyone gets off the elevator, Tenko approaches Kiyo. She thanks him for standing up for Angie, and this time she actually sounds genuine. She then admits that maybe he's different than the other degenerate males and that he's not so bad. Kiyo accepts the sort of compliment and Tenko walks off.

And for the first time Kiyo feels happy. Now he's felt satisfaction after a solved case and even sometimes felt contentment but, he can't remember the last time he felt happy. The last he felt like he belonged. And after this the two from a solid friendship, one that will carry them throughout the entire game and Angie joins the squad too and as much as I'd love to get into their relationship this post is far too long already and I wouldn't wanna waste anymore of your time. But! I hope this was enjoyable at the very least.

I really enjoy getting these asks because they always help me to flesh out the story and the characters and they're always super fun to write so if you ever wanna know about any of the other characters, don't hesitate to ask. Thanks for the ask!

[knifeonmars]

Capsule Reviews, February 2021

Here's some things I've been reading.

The Curse of Brimstone 

DC's New Age of Heroes books, emerging from the beginning of Scott Snyder's creative-flameout-as-crossover-event Metal, mostly constituted riffs on Marvel heroes like the Fantastic Four (in The Terrifics) or the Hulk (in Damage). The Curse of Brimstone is a riff on Ghost Rider. It's... uneven. The first volume is generally pretty good, and when Phillip Tan is drawing it, as he does the first three and a half issues, it's gorgeous and unique, when he departs though, the quality takes a nose dive. None of the replacement artists, including the great Denis Cowan, can quite fill his shoes, and the story gets old fast. Guy makes a deal with the devil (or rather, a devil-like inhabitant of the "Dark Multiverse" as a not horribly handled tie-in to the conceits of Metal), realizes it's a raw deal, and rebels. The characters are flat, lots of time is spent with the main character's sister haranguing him to not use his powers (it is, in my humble opinion, something of a cardinal sin to have a character whose primary role is telling other characters to stop doing interesting things), too many potboiler "I know you're still in there!/I can feel this power consuming me!" exchanges, a couple of underwhelming guest spots (including a genuinely pointless appearance by the old, white, boring Doctor Fate) too many flashbacks, and not enough of the action. There's potential in the classic demonic hero rebelling plotline and its link to the liminal spaces of the DC universe, forgotten towns and economic depression, but the wheels come off this series pretty much as soon as Tan leaves. The really disappointing this is that the series is clearly built as an artistic showcase, so after Tan's shockingly early departure, the main appeal of the series is gone and there's nothing left but the playing out of an obviously threadbare story.

Star Wars - Boba Fett: Death, Lies, and Treachery

I don't care much about Star Wars these days, and I think that most of the old Expanded Universe was, as evidenced by Crimson Empire, pretty bad. Death, Lies, and Treachery, is that rare Star Wars EU comic which is actually good. John Wagner writes and he's in full-on 2000 AD mode, writing Boba Fett as a slightly more unpleasant Johnny Alpha (who is like a mercenary Judge Dredd, for those unfamiliar) right on down to the appearance of a funny alien sidekick for one of the characters. The main attraction is Cam Kennedy's art though, along with his inimitable colors: this might be the best looking Star Wars comic ever. The designs are all weird and chunky, with an almost kitbashed feeling that captures the lived in aesthetic of classic Star Wars, and the colors are one of a kind. Natural, neutral white light does not exist in this comic, everything is always bathed at all times in lurid greens or yellows, occasionally reds, and it looks incredible. In terms of "Expanded Universe" material for Star Wars, this hits the sweet spot of looking and feeling of a piece, but exploring the edges of the concept with a unique voice. It's great. I read this digitally, but I'd consider it a must-buy in print if I ever get the chance at a deal.

Zaroff

Zaroff is a French comic (novel? novella?). It's like 90 pages and it delivers exactly on its premise of "Die Hard starring the bad guy from The Most Dangerous Game." It's pretty good. Count Zaroff, he of the habitual hunting of humans, turns out to have killed a mafia don at some point, and after miraculously escaping his own seeming death at the end of the original story, finds himself hunted by the irate associates of this gangster, who have brought along Zaroff's sister and her kids to spice things up. Zaroff not only finds himself the hunt, but he also has to protect his estranged family as they struggle to survive. Nothing about this book or its twists and turns is likely to surprise you, but I don't think being surprised is always necessary for quality. Zaroff delivers on pulpy, early-20th century jungle action, is gorgeously rendered, and the fact that Zaroff himself is an unrepentant villain adds just enough of an unexpected element to the proceedings and character dynamics that it doesn't feel rote. There's a couple of points, ones typical of Eurocomics, which spark a slight sour note, such as some "period appropriate" racism and flashes of the male gaze, but for the most part these are relatively contained. It's good.

Batman: Gothic

Long before Grant Morrison did their Bat-epic, they wrote Batman: Gothic, an entirely different, but then again maybe not so different, kind of thing. It starts off with what must be called a riff on Fritz Lang's film, M, only where that story ends with a crew of gangsters deciding they cannot pass moral judgment on a deranged child-murderer, in Morrison's story they go ahead and kill him, only for the killer to return years later to rather horribly murder all of them as a warmup for a grandiose scheme involving unleashing a weaponized form of the bubonic plague on Gotham City as an offering to Satan. Along the way it turns out that said villain, one Mr. Whisper, is a former schoolmaster of Bruce Wayne's, who terrified the young Batman in the days before his parent's deaths. It's an earlier Morrison story and it shows. Certain elements presage their later Batman work; Mr. Whisper as a satanic enemy recalls the later Doctor Hurt, and the cathedral Mr. Whisper built to harvest souls recalls what writers like Morrison, Milligan, and Snyder would do concerning Gotham as a whole years later.The art, by Klaus Janson, is spectacular. If you're familiar at all with his work collaborating with Frank Miller you'll see him continuing in a similar vein and it's all quite good, even when he stretches beyond the street milieu which most readers might know him from. There's one particular sequence where Janson renders a needlessly complicated Rube Goldberg machine in motion that manages to work despite being static images. The writing by Morrison though, is not their finest. The M riff doesn't last as long as it could, and Mr. Whisper's turn in the latter half of the story from delicious creepy wraith to a cackling mass murderer who puts Batman in an easily escaped death trap feels like something of a letdown from the promise of the first half of the book. Gothic is good, but not, in my opinion, great. It's certainly worth checking out for Morrison fans however, and I imagine that someone well-versed in his latter Batman stuff might be able to find some real resonance between the two.

Green Arrow: The Longbow Hunters

For a long, long time, Longbow Hunters was THE Green Arrow story. It is to Green Arrow as TDKR is to Batman, deliberately so. Mike Grell wrote and drew the reinvention of the character from his role as the Justice League's resident limousine liberal to a gritty urban vigilante operating in Seattle over the course of these three issues, which he'd follow up with a subsequent ongoing. Going back to it, it certainly merits its reputation, but its far from timeless. Grell's art is unimpeachable absolutely incredible, with great splashes and spreads, subtle colors, and really great figure work. The narrative is almost so 80's it hurts though, revolving around West Coast serial killers, cocaine, the CIA and the Iran-Contra scandal, and the Yakuza, and it's hard to look back at some of this stuff without smirking. The story begins with a teenager strung out on tainted coke sprinting through a window in a scene that's right out of Reefer Madness. In the cold light of a day 30+ years later, parts of it look more than a little silly. The 80's-ness of it all doesn't stop with that stuff though, even the superhero elements smack of it. Green Arrow realizes that he's lost a step and has be to be shown a way forward by an Asian woman skilled in the martial arts (recalling Vic Sage's reinvention in the pages of The Question), and Black Canary gets captured and torture off-panel for the sake of showing that this is real crime now, not the superhero silliness they've dealt with before. The treatment of Black Canary here is pretty markedly heinous, it's a classic fridging and Grell's claims that he didn't intentionally imply sexual assault in his depiction of her torture is probably true, but still feels more than a little weak considering how he chose to render it.The final analysis is that this book is good, but it exists strictly in the frame of the 1980's. If you're a fan of Green Arrow, there are worse books to pick up, or if you're interested in that era of DC Comics it's more than worth it, but as a matter of general interest I wouldn't recommend it very highly.

SHIELD by Steranko

Jim Steranko is sort of the prodigy of the early Marvel years, a young guy who came up through the system, blossomed into an incredible talent, and then left the company, and by and large the industry, behind. He would go on to dabble in publishing, work in other mediums, and generally kick around as the prodigal son of Marvel Comics. This collection, of both his Nick Fury shorts in the pages of Strange Tales and the four issues he drew of the original Nick Fury solo series, charts Steranko's growth as an artist. The book starts off with Steranko working from Jack Kirby's layouts with Stan Lee's dialogue and writing, and Steranko might be the one guy in history for whom working off of Kirby's blueprints is clearly holding him back. The first third or so of this collection really isn't much to write home about, as Steranko is obviously constrained by someone else's style, and at the end of the day those early stories still read as somewhat uninspired pulp compared to the highlights of early Marvel. There are flashes though, of techniques and ideas, which foreshadow what Steranko is capable of, and when he finally takes over as solo writer/artist it's like he's been unleashed. He immediately has Nick Fury tear off his shirt and start throwing guys around over psychedelic effects. He writes out most of Kirby and Lee's frankly uninspired boys' club supporting cast, he makes Fury visibly older, wearier, but also so much cooler. It's the birth of Nick Fury as a distinctly comic book super spy.By the time he finishes wrapping up the previous writers' plotline with Hydra and Baron von Strucker, Steranko is firing on all cylinders. By the time it gets to Steranko's Fury solo series, he's somehow surpassed himself, turning in effects, panel structures, and weird stories which make the earlier installment about a suit-wearing Man from UNCLE knockoff and its strict six-panel layouts look absolutely fossilized.I can't recommend this collection highly enough for any fan of the artform, even if the stories themselves might not be everyone's cup of tear. It's truly incredible to watch Steranko emerge as an artist over the course of this single collection. The book itself has a few problems, it's not the most elegantly designed in its supporting materials and index, but the content of it more than outweighs that. It's great stuff.

[junietc]

ink flows well when drawing flowers (adriennette)

adriennette x flower shop and tattoo artist au

pairing: adrien x marinette

word count: 4489

warning: none, just an immense load of fluff

summary: marinette often finds herself spending time at a certain blonde boy’s flower shop 

a/n: it felt only fitting that i made marinette the tattoo artist since she was super into drawing and adrien is just adorable as fuck as flower shop owner. also, happy five year anniversary miraculous! thought i would celebrate with this fluffy one-shot

feel free to leave some requests and hope you enjoy ~

~~~~~~~~

Dupois road was known for its multitude of shops and variety of small cafes that adorned the streets; but what it wasn’t known for was its little flower shop that stood at the end of the road. It was small and not all that well known, but those who went there always left a good review and frequently returned as regular customers.

Though Marinette Dupain Cheng was not one of those customers, she did find herself drawn to the quaint little shop and quite fond of its owner, Adrien Agreste.

No matter the day, she always seemed to find time to stop by the small shop. The large windows allowed for a bountiful stream of light to illuminate the store and the sun seemed to only rival the warmth of the smile that Adrien would give her as she walked in.

“Back again already?” Adrien’s voice was obviously teasing but inviting, nonetheless.

“It’s my lunch break and I’d much rather spend it here than stuck third wheeling Alya and Nino.” She took her usual seat across from him near the end of the counter. “Besides, it’s not as if I’m harassing your customers. If I vividly recall, plenty of your costumers find me absolutely charming.”

Marinette smiled goofily in attempt to poke fun at the blonde. It had been merely a week ago that a customer had walked in when Adrien was feeling slightly agitated and reacted more abrasively than usual. So, Marinette tried to assuage the situation by being her cheerful self and was thereafter deemed “absolutely charming”.

Marinette giggled, taking out her sketchbook as Adrien rolled his eyes at the girl before joining her, resting his elbows on the counter-top. “Remind me why you keep coming in here?”

“I’m offended, Sunshine, I always thought you enjoyed my company.” The two shared a laugh before she went back to her doodling and responded properly. “I suppose flowers are a common request, so practice is always helpful.”

Marinette worked at the tattoo parlor just a couple stores down from the flower shop and was one of their most popular artists. Though she herself wasn’t adorned in tattoos like some of her coworkers were, she did have a couple scattered across her body. There was one of a ladybug on the inside of her ankle done by her best friend Alya and another of a cluster of macrons on the side of her rib-cage in honor of her parents’ bakery opening up its second store in London. There were various other little ones that she might’ve given herself with a stick and poke on late nights where there was nothing else to do, though those held less of a significance.

Moving away from the counter and into the back-storage, Adrien’s voice rang with a question. “Well then, what flower do you need for today’s practice?”

Marinette thought for a moment, eyes trailing around the shop, looking at the various arrays of plants that adorned the walls and clusters of flowers placed in vases. The store smelt fresh and the floral perfumes eased her nose after being cooped up in a room with somebody for at least an hour. “You choose for me this time,” she finally responded, eager to see what he would pick out for her.

“Are you sure?” she heard him ask. She hummed a yes in response and flipped to a new page in her drawing book. “Alright, then. A white gardenia for you, Ms. Marinette.” He walked back in holding a white flower in his hand. “White gardenias symbolize purity and trust and are given to convey the message that the recipient of these flowers is lovely.”

“Is this your way of telling me that you find me lovely, Agreste?”

“Quite the flirt, aren’t you?” he rolled his eyes as she smirked taking the flower from his hand and examining it. It was a beautiful flower and Marinette was delighted to understand what it had meant. This was something that she looked forward to every time she entered the shop. Learning what each flower meant was a joy because it meant that she could give her friends and family flowers not only for the beauty of them, but with a secret message.

Placing the flower down in front of her, she sketched out the basic shape of the flower in pencil, later adding the petals and smaller details. Once she felt confident enough in her design, she changed to her pen and drew a replica. Adrien watched her draw, fascinated by her precision and focus. His eyes were glued to her paper and were only interrupted by the sudden ringing of the chimes above the entrance door.

The sound alerted Adrien as he stepped away from Marinette and smiled at the customer. “Welcome! Can I help you with a flower arrangement or are you just browsing?” It was his usual greeting that Marinette had grown accustomed to hearing after popping into the store every so often. The lady that had walked in smiled at him before speaking.

“Hi! I’m looking to buy some flowers for my girlfriend. She’s coming home after being gone for a year working abroad so I’m picking her up from the airport.” She looked excited; her eyes filled with a sense of joy that caused Adrien to smile.

He nodded and thought for a moment before quickly dashing to the storage room once again. He came out with a pair of flowers: a pink lily and a white orchid. “Here, star gazer lilies and white orchards are both ways of conveying ‘I miss you’ but I think that considering she is your girlfriend, the lilies would be better suited. They symbolize admiration and missing another, so I think they’ll work out well.” He handed her the flowers and she inhaled its scent before smiling brightly.

“They’re perfect. I’ll take a bouquet please?” Adrien nodded before starting to build the arrangement. Marinette watched him carefully take the flowers and wrap them up in cellophane, his fingers folding the plastic gently and taping the ends with a sticker. As he handed her the flowers, she thanked him, paying for them before heading off with a smile evident on her face.

He waved goodbye before returning to Marinette who was still drawing and tapping her on the shoulder. “Coffee?” The smile on her face was enough of a response for her to slam her sketchbook shut and stand up.

“Sounds perfect.”

-----

Adrien was growing accustomed to hearing the tinkling of chimes at noon signaling Marinette’s lunch break. So, when he noticed it was already 1:31 and Marinette had yet to make an appearance, it was safe to say that he was slightly alarmed.

The bells suddenly chimed, and Adrien would be lying if he were to say he wasn’t the tiniest bit disappointed when his best friend Nino appeared through the doorway instead of the bluenette. “Nino! Surprised to see you here.” An automatic smile made its way to Adrien’s face as he and the bespectacled boy exchanged a hug. “I assume you’re here for some flowers?”

“Yeah, I need to pick up some flowers for Alya actually.” He scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. “It’s our six-month anniversary today and I forgot to buy some so here I am. At the best flower shop in all of Paris.”

Adrien chuckled at his forgetful friend before picking up a couple of roses in the back and creating a bouquet. “If it makes you feel any better, Alya came in this morning before her shift.” Nino’s eyes widened in surprise before laughing and taking the roses from the blonde. “You two really are perfect for each other,” he teased as Nino paid for the flowers.

“I suppose we are.” A heartfelt smile rested on the boy as he grinned at Adrien. “I noticed you looked disappointed when I walked in. You weren’t expecting a certain tattoo artist, now were you?”

Though he refused to admit it, his felt his cheeks tinge pink as the words left his best friend’s lips. “I – she usually comes in much earlier, so I was concerned alright. It’s nothing like that.” He was reassuring Nino but at the same time if felt as though he were trying to reassure himself. He didn’t like Marinette, did he?

“I didn’t mention any names.” Adrien’s cheeks turned a more violent shade of red as his friend laughed. Nino made no further mention of the girl but something about the smug smile that tugged on his lips made Adrien think otherwise.

After his friend left, Adrien went back to work, rearranging the bouquets or sweeping any loose petals that were scattered across the wooden floor. Ten minutes, maybe fifteen had passed before the doors to his store opened again. His back was still turned away as he tried to reshelf some flowers, so he responded with his typical greeting, “Welcome! If you need any help with an arrangement, I’ll be with in a just a second and but if you’re just browsing go right –”

“Didn’t you just switch up those flowers yesterday Sunshine?” a knowing voice teased him, causing him to turn around.

“I reckoned you were finally going to show up. I suppose the shop was getting a bit too quiet for my taste,” he joked as the girl made her way to the counter. “Don’t you have a shift right now?”

Marinette clucked her tongue before dropping off her things on the counter top. “Alya’s watching for me. She owes me a shift anyways considering how many times I’ve taken hers because of an impromptu date with her boyfriend,” she walked over to where Adrien was, holding up a couple of the flowers that he was moving. “Need any help?”

“What? No practice today?” Adrien took the flowers from her hand and placed them into a vase, moving the flowers around for the prettiest arrangement. “Could you pass me those roses? The red ones,” Marinette nodded, reaching over to grab the flowers but as she was trying to pass them to him, her foot tripped over the broom that Adrien had left leaning against the wall. Before she could face-splat against the floor, Adrien quickly discarded his flowers and caught her, arm slipping around her waist.

“Agh!” Marinette squealed as he held her upright. His arm was snaked around her waist, supporting her balance and their faces were close to the other. The room was quiet and all that could be heard were the sounds of their hearts beating rapidly. A blush tinged both of their cheeks as they stared into the other’s eyes.

Adrien was quicker to react, apologizing profusely; “are you alright? Sorry I really should have put that broom away earlier I just wasn’t expecting –” before another word could be spoken Marinette stopped him with her own apologizing.

“You’re sorry? I should be sorry! I was being careless and clumsy, and I should’ve watched where I was going before –” Marinette rambled, only to be cut off by somebody clearing their throat. The two looked behind them to see a man who couldn’t have been all that much older than them with a grin.

“Though I apologize for interrupting the two of you I was wondering if I could get some help with a bouquet?” the two young adults both blushed at the reminder and immediately separated. Adrien was quick to clean up before aiding the man in his needs.

Marinette went back to her spot at the counter and tied her hair up in a bun, trying to avoid contact with either males in the room, doodling in her sketchbook. From what she had gathered this was the man’s first date and he wanted it to be perfect. She smiled at the thought of being gifted flowers, her pen quickly sketching the scene in front of her.

From her spot at the end of the counter she watched as he wrapped the peonies he had selected into a bouquet and handed them the man at the other side of the register. Her lips tugged into a smile as she watched him graciously converse about the man’s upcoming date and how excited he was. Something about watching Adrien easily talk to all his clients always made Marinette filled to the brim with happiness. Looking down at the drawing in front of her, she traced over the lines on his arms of the still image of him handing the flowers to the man.

“What’cha drawing now?” his voice had suddenly rung as Marinette jumped in surprise.

“Adrien! I didn’t see you there,” she quickly squealed, slamming her sketchbook shut as he leaned over her shoulder. She turned around, eyes meeting the blonde. She was startled by how close he was to her yet again. Her eyes seemed to travel down his face, admiring his features as the sunlight hit them. In attempts to diverge the conversation and hide her now rosy cheeks, Marinette motioned towards the shelf; “do you need any more help with cleaning up? I’m here for the rest of the hour.”

Adrien looked over at the small mess that they had made before nodding.

“That would be perfect.”

-----

The tattoo parlor that Marinette worked at had a drastically different aesthetic than the little flower shop Adrien was used to. The walls were a dark grey colour that contrasted with the white designs that decorated the walls. There were shelves placed around the parlor that were filled with knick knacks and various other decorations. On the walls were also different framed artworks and photographs of tattoos or drawings and most of the light came from the pot lights that were sporadically placed above him.

He made note of how the shop was always playing music as he walked in, waving hello to Alya who was leaning against the table that stood in the front of the parlor.

Her eyebrows raised upon seeing the ex-model as she faked surprise. “Agreste? What are you doing here? Ooh lemme guess, here to pick up Marinette for your first date?” the auburn-haired girl teased.

“Haha, very funny Alya,” Marinette walked in, a smile appearing on her face when she saw Adrien. “You ready for your first tattoo?” How Marinette had convinced Adrien to get his first tattoo he knew not. But he was still eager and excited for the experience and it didn’t hurt the he would get to be around Marinette some more.

Alya’s face contorted to one of shock. “A tattoo? If somewhere to tell me that the Adrien Agreste were getting a tattoo, I would’ve never believed it.”

“Well a lot of people didn’t believe I quit my father’s modeling agency and opened up a store but here we are,” the three laughed at his response before Marinette made signal for him to follow her into the area in the back of the parlor.

She motioned for him to take a seat on the large longue chair in front of him and disappeared for moment, returning with a booklet. She handed it to him and opened the book. “You can look through here if you want any ideas but considering this is your first tattoo, I would recommend going for something simpler than the designs that are in the back of the book.” Adrien thought for a moment flipping through the contents of the book, stopping at certain designs, contemplating them before continuing to look through the rest of them. “Nothing catching your eye?” she asked.

“Actually, I was thinking of doing a flower, but I still don’t know which one,” Marinette smiled. Of course, he would want a flower, he does work in a flower shop after all. “I thought it would be only fitting since you practice drawing flowers in my shop all the time.”

“A flower by yours truly? I suppose it is rather fitting,” she smiled and thought of the varieties of flowers that he could choose from. “What flower are you thinking of? A rose? That one’s popular. Perhaps a lily? You always liked those. Maybe a –”

“You pick for me,” the confidence in his voice took Marinette by surprise. Though she was touched by the trust that he had in her for choosing a reasonable tattoo, she was still taken a back that he wanted her to choose his first tattoo.

“Are you sure? But this – I mean, this is your first tattoo you know?”

“I know.”

“Then why would you want me to –”

“Because I want the tattoo to mean something to me.”

“You work in a flower shop and yet none of those flowers mean anything to you?” Marinette deadpanned, ignoring the cheeky grin that appeared on the blonde’s face.

“The one you choose will,” he said it with pure confidence as he smiled. It would be a blatant lie to say that Marinette’s face had not turned bright red at his remark.

Curse how smooth he was.

She tried to smother her blush as she pondered. What would be the best choice for Sunshine boy himself? An idea clicked through her mind as she smiled excitedly. “How about a sunflower? The only flower that could rival with you, sunshine boy.”

The smile on Adrien’s face was more than enough to know that Marinette’s choice was a perfect one.

After ten minutes of coming up with initial design and chatting with Adrien, Marinette settled on a smaller, simple design, very minimalistic and Adrien decided on placing it on his left upper arm, near the shoulder. After prepping the design and cleaning the area where the tattoo was going to go, Marinette was ready to get started.

Adrien was surprisingly good with the pain and remained still throughout the process. The two talked for nearly the entirety of the time, catching up about life and just gossiping about their friends.

“What’s your favourite flower Marinette?” he winced slightly, due to the pain. Though she was used to him pestering her with questions, she still wondered how many questions the green-eyed boy had in him.

Marinette thought for a moment, eyes trailing over his exposed arm before settling on an answer. “I suppose it’s always been a cherry blossom. Call me corny but they remind me of spring and it’s just always so beautiful to see them,” she paused from her work and pulled down slightly on her t-shirt, showcasing her collarbone. “I got it done when I had just turned twenty. Probably my most painful one but I love it nonetheless,” on the skin underneath her collarbone was a cherry blossom branch that reached out to her shoulder. It was pink and delicate looking and somehow Adrien found himself staring at its beauty for much longer than he’d anticipated.

“You say it as if you haven’t been twenty in ages. You’re only twenty-one Marinette,” he mentioned with a provoking smile.

“And you’re only twenty-two. So, don’t try and act like you’re so much wiser than me Sunshine,” she teased him before going back to her work.

Adrien leaned back into the chair and thought of his life a couple years ago before he had decided to open his shop, how his father would react to such ludicrous idea. Not only is he “tarnishing” his skin but the idea that his first tattoo would be of a sunflower? He would have been thrown out of the house if he were still living there.

They continued to talk, somehow stumbling across the topic of dating. “How did it go with that one guy you went out with?” though he didn’t show it, Adrien was tinged with jealousy. He wasn’t quite sure why though, just the feeling, perhaps the idea of Marinette being close with somebody else made him upset. It was probably just that he was afraid she wouldn’t pop into the store as often. Yeah, that seemed like a suitable response.

“Kim? We didn’t go out. We’re just friends, have been since we were in middle school,” the idea of dating her swimmer friend was one that Marinette refused to think of. Though she was confused as to why Adrien thought it was a date. “Though he did say that he had a friend who was potentially interested. I think his name was Luka, I’m going to be meeting with him in a couple days.”

An exasperated sigh slipped out of his mouth. Though he didn’t wish to intrude on her love life, he still felt compelled to tell her that going on date might’ve been a bad idea. Why? He had yet to find an excuse suitable enough to tell her because based on what he had read in books and in movies, “I don’t know”, was a bullshit answer. “Oh?” he managed to respond.

“You holding up alright?” she asked him sincerely. Her words seemed to be laced in concerned after seeing the blonde close his eyes in pain. He nodded his head and before she went back to work. There wasn’t much more left to do, just a couple touch ups and details and before they knew it, Marinette was done.

Standing up she handed him a mirror to look at the final product. “And we’re done! Wasn’t so bad now was it,” she gave herself a little pat on the back for her work. Adrien examined the tattoo and smiled upon seeing it.

“It looks perfect! What do you think?” the flower was beautiful, and Adrien couldn’t have been more ecstatic about the results. His eyes looked up to meet Marinette’s and she flashed him a grin.

“Almost as bright as you, Sunshine boy.”

-----

Call it fate, call it not wanting to spend an hour stuck in the tattoo parlor where her coworkers were complaining about how their boss wasn’t letting them break for the weekend, whatever it was, it caused Marinette to spend another one of her lunch breaks at Adrien’s flower shop.

“I’ve got a pot of pansies for you to practice drawing, their sitting in your usual spot,” Adrien responded, currently on the phone. Marinette looked over to see a fresh pot of purple pansies and smiled. She took a seat and started to draw, waiting for Adrien to get off the phone.  

Her eyes were focused on the drawing in front of her. The ink of her pen slowly running out especially considering how long she’d had it for. She included a beautiful intricate design engraved into the pansies and went over the lines in ink, shading where she felt like made sense.

She felt his figure watching her process from behind the counter and met his eyes. “Thoughts?” she asked him, curious to know what he thought of the drawing. She turned her sketchbook so that it would face him, and he looked at it eagerly.

“It’s gorgeous as always,” he grinned at her, lightly tracing over the drawing with his finger. “You know, pansies were actually used in the Victorian Era for secret courting. They mean loving thoughts or that you are thinking of the other,” he continued to ramble on about the flower and Marinette watched him, finding it adorable how nerdy he would get about flowers and what they meant.

Not that she would admit that to anyone.

Marinette inhaled the sweet scent of the pansies and played with its petals. “I had no idea that these were such romantic flowers,” she had to admit that hanging around Adrien had opened her eyes to how many other flowers there were. Before their encounter she could probably name only a couple flowers but now her floral vocabulary consisted of at least twenty. “You know I had a client ask me for a tattoo of a gardenia and they looked so excited when I knew what they were. What would I do if you didn’t have your little flower shop?”

“I’m sure you could find another flower shop to practice at,” Adrien chuckled, heading to the back to start on another arrangement order.

But none of those flower shops would have an owner as charming as you. Marinette thought watching him come up with a cluster of pink and red roses. The two sat in a comfortable silence, Adrien messing around with an array of flowers at the counter as Marinette sat on the opposite side, now practicing drawing the bouquet of hyacinths that Adrien had given her after the pansies were done. Her pen moved along the paper, eyes shifting from up to look at the flowers to back down.

Fiddling with the rose in his hand he asked her a question. “How did your date with the Luka boy go?” His voice seemed quieter than usual, as though he had been nervous to ask. Shrugging her shoulders, she kept her eyes on the piece in front of her.

“It was alright,” she hummed, fingers outlining the corners of the paper. “But we both agreed that we would be better off as friends.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Adrien set down the roses. “Well if you’re any interested, my friend thinks you’re cute,”

Marinette didn’t look up from her drawing but snorted in response, “What friend?”

“Me,” swallowing whatever pride he might’ve had left, he confessed. “I’m the friend.”

His voice seemed nonchalant and a smug smile rested on his lips as the words escaped his mouth but the rapid beating of his heart in his chest was a dead giveaway that the boy was nervous. The pen in Marinette’s hand nearly dropped in surprise. “Oh? You should’ve told me earlier. I think your friend is quite adorable himself,” she let out a laugh as her eyes finally met his.

“Really?”

“I mean, it’s hard to resist a ball of sunshine,” Adrien snorted at her comment as he leaned closer to her from across the counter. His face was much closer to hers than it had ever been, his green eyes more vibrant than usual. Marinette smiled, moving closer as well, leaving a smaller space between the two, a heavy blush marking her cheeks.

“Is it now?”

Adrien sealed the space between their lips, a smile forming as they kissed. It was soft and delicate, the smells of the roses he had left on the table filling the air. After they parted, a pair of lovesick smiles were prominently displayed on their faces.

“And it’s even harder to resist when that ball of sunshine is as good of a kisser as you are,” she teased once more, causing him to roll his eyes before locking their lips once again.

[beetleinmates]

OK HERE I GO TALKING ABOUT THE TOME. i’m sorry if it gets confusing i’m HORRIBLE at explaining myself/ perspective of things sometimes and i have a jumbled ass brain that cant put things on paper

Anyways let’s about about this tome. Horrible. Most of it is horrible and inconsistent with the original lore that first came out with legion. Like they added fucking arson? the fuck? They live in a small town that shit would. not hold up. They would get caught instantly. I’m gonna be honest, this arson section came out of No where, not even their cosmetics talk about it. I wouldn’t have that much of a problem if it wasn’t a huge ass THEATER but whatever it happened what can I do. Though, it does have alittle symbolism in it.

Okay let’s get alittle jogger on the original lore before comparing it to the original. i’ll just point out the important shit and move on to my thoughts yadda yadda.

1) Julie is introduced as a girl who is convinced she deserves a better life than in Ormond. I know that doesn’t really tell a lot about her or doesn’t signify who she REALLY is, but it’s important because of her decisions in her tome.

2) When Frank is introduced its seems hinted at he was at multiple parties she has thrown, not one. Kinda leaves things out in the open about possibilities that he was lurking around or not, or something entirely else!

3) One thing I thought was VERY important to keep in mind of the age group of Julies parties. Younger. it is also important about frank and his desire of being admired by a younger audience. When I first read it, I sort of considered it a red flag for numerous reasons. Why would a teen like him care about impressing younger kids? Possibly he likes it because a younger audience is easier to manipulate?

Then you are introduced with this. Frank seeing Julie and them and their lives as an opportunity to shape them into something more. He instructed their plans, he got them together to do reckless things for his own gain. ( seeing that it got to a point they would do anything HE asked.)

Which leads to this. Seeing that they were ALL shocked, this was obviously the first time Frank has done something so violent infront of them. Especially when they HESITATE on stabbing the janitor when he ORDERS them to. Seeing even Frank to tell them to move fast is also another crucial part, because it comes off as sheer panic. Even at the end of the lore there’s like, small hints of Frank being paranoid too but that isn’t really crucial to Julies tome.

Now to Julies tome let’s start it off

couple good things, we figured out the little artist! it’s Julie. cute. And her last name is Ukraine! I’m guessing this is when they first meet, typically ‘omg i drew u hehe..’ moment. Julie invites him to a party yadda, and Frank seems to be a talkative type of dude! really uhm. preachy in a way.

Then we are introduced with julies ‘true colors’ quote on quote. I.. don’t like this at all, I really think bhvr just looked into reddit and their insight of julie of how ‘SHES THE MANIPULATIVE ONE!’ bullshit. but that’s not it. at all. Julie seeks admiration from Frank, showing all her hard work on serial killer. Frank is really into it and Julie eats that shit up. Frank is throwing fuel into the fire to encourage her to go deep into her impulsive thoughts, which you see more in the logs.

Also I found it odd how Frank would read up on Ormond? It’s stated in his original lore he was focused on getting out of Ormond, not educating himself on the place. Anywho.

More bullshit of how Julie is just as insane as Frank which is just. No, I refuse to look at it. This is an interesting log to see though. As i’ve stated before, Frank is the one that is in control. He’s the one that pushed Legion into the reckless shit they did. So seeing Julie take control is interesting. If anything, it’s a form of manipulation Frank is trying to pull. It’s only so subtle though, only acting dumb and testing the waters in what she can do.

This is where things make you go hm! Maybe Frank is really the one in control here. From this point Frank knows how Julie perceives him, they are bonded to the point Julie will tell him anything, even the darkest things. He even encourages her to do these dark desires, which really just shows his manipulative side? EVEN WHEN HE STRAIGHT OUT PREACHES ABT IT ???

Ok so the arson part is just. a mess. An actual mess. Like the setting of it is a fucking mess and COULVE been executed better, but Franks control over julie is really starting to show. His encouragement is pushing her into her darker desires. the fact he LITERALLY sets up this whole burning down something for HER is just pure peer pressure her to make her desires to become a reality. He wants her to embrace these thoughts.

and he CONTINUES to push her. He wants to see how far she’ll go. Why? because he is testing her limits. The only thing is that he’s subtle about it so it’s easy to gloss over. Why? because manipulation is easy to be glossed over. When he asks if she would kill from him is also very important. In the video, he once again tests her to see if she was serious about actually killing someone. To his surprise, she did. As I already complained about.

Okay. I’m just going to say it, Julies tome is a mess. It’s inconsistent. It has many holes as to why they killed another janitor, and you know that was at least their first time because of their masks and it doesn’t correlate to the original lore. (seeing as though Frank dares Joey to vandalize the place.) Susie and Joey has some questionable reactions to Julie LITERALLY KILLING A MAN, only to brush it off like it was nothing and just stare at the body while in the original they were in a LITERAL hurry to clean it all up. What I can say is? it could’ve been executed better. Obviously behavior has a time crunch and what not, but they should really look back on what they wrote and really read what they put down. If there was different settings, different actions, this could’ve been SO much better. I don’t particularly enjoy seeing Julie being a troubled child with some darker desires. I can see her as a kid that was for sure looking more in life and cause a little mischief, but not this. Though I will give props to Bhvr showing Franks control, the subtle hints of him testing her limits. He was the one pulling the strings in making her desires become a reality if you really read into it and examine the video. He was the only one with the knife, he was the one that gave her the knife to give her that opportunity. He was also the one to give her that match and set that place on fire. I will say this a million times, Frank is manipulative. He is NOT a good person, as much as he seems like a sweet guy in the story HE ISNT. that’s how manipulators and abusers pull people in. But yeah, it was a mess, i Really don’t enjoy what path they chose for Julie bc now all the incels are gonna be like “FRANK IS GOOD NOT JULIE.” utter bullshit. anwyays yeah that’s my input. also there was shitty inconsistency with Susie and Joey loving that they caused a bunch of terrible car accidents? uhm??? ok??? yet they cant handle stabbing a janitor. Makes sense.

[kamccormickhnd1b]

Jonathan Bielaski: Environmental Photographer

Environmental portraits are a very involved type of portraiture that is a slow and methodical process requiring interviews and understanding of who the person is. In the end, it requires the photographer to deliver a product that tells something specific about who the subject is. The aim is to tell viewers about this person without needing to put words.

Jonathan Bielaski has been doing this for years, and knew that he wanted to be a photographer from a very young age. He is based in Toronto, Canada and some of his clients include, Maple Leafs Sports and Entertainment (Toronto Maple Leafs, Toronto Raptors and TFC), Sports Illustrated, Billboard Magazine, T+D Magazine and the list goes on.

Jonathan Bielaski got into photography naturally: his dad was a master print maker and his mom a graphic designer. Growing up, he was surrounded by images 24/7. Both parents tried to encourage and raise him to do something other than the arts but it was just part of him, he knew he wanted to create images at a very young age. By the time he was in high school he was assisting on commercial jobs and had a studio to start taking my his very own images. From there lots of hard work and persistence led to where the man is now.

What first attracted him to shooting portraits then environmental portraits?

When Jonathan Bielaski started out in photography he didn’t enjoy making portraits and was attracted to still life photography, he says that he now understands that it was his attraction to lighting and with shooting these types of images he could master light and its effects. But something was missing–whenever he was photographing custom motorcycles and custom made products the story about the makers became a huge interest to him. Who they were and where they lived or worked fascinated him. He wanted to capture them in their workspace. People have a story as well as their space, together they complete a visual story and you can capture who they are and what they do in a signal frame.

Jonathan likes to sit down with his subjects and learn : With making any portrait I do–I like to sit down with the subject and learn about them: what they do, where they come from and where they want to go. He would ask them to take him though a typical day, show him some of their favorite places and tools. He really tries to get to know them, to get a strong understanding of them as a person. Sometimes this is done on the same day of the shoot and sometimes it is done beforehand, but the best thing that he learned to do is listen. By listening, you learn and find the small details that makes them who they are.

To Jonathan Bielaski, a perfect environmental portrait is a portrait that tells a story, you are learning something about the person in the portrait without the use of words. The background and foreground are just as important as the person in telling the story but they are the supporting cast and the person is the lead roll. On their own they could make good images but together they make a great image.

Jonathan Bielaski’s Work

I looked into some examples of Jonathan Bielaski’s work and I took a big interest in him. I’ve uploaded my favourite photos of his work, the ones that stood out to me the most.

The thing that drew me to this image was the man’s shirt and his eyes. For me, the eyes stood out the most, they are clear and have godo catchlights in them, and for me personally, I’m drawn to eyes more than anything else in an image. They are powerful and can tell a story, so the clearer the eyes, the better. With the hat and the shirt and obviously the chickens, I get the impression this man is a farmer or at least works around farm animals. I liked how well he was put together: most likely, this is something the man would wear on a regular basis when doing his work amongst the animals. I liked how well he captured this man, I feel he has a strong expression on his face, his beard is neat and “sharp” and I think Jonathan Bielaski captured the man perfectly.

The background of this image is what captured my interest the most.It is a messy background to me despite attempts to make it neat and tidy, to me, this screams artist. The man has paint on his apron and you can see paint brushes in the background and many other crafting items he uses. I have friends who art artists, and often their workstation is a mess of dried in ink, paint or even just their tools. I feel the background captures the madness within an artist’s mind: putting your ideas into place and creating your idea is your main focus, and it shows in the background. I liked this photo because it displays an artist in his work place. 

Compared to the above farmer image, this image has a lot more in the background, it’s cluttered and busier, to show the work and mind of an artist. I feel he captured the mood of this image rather well, for me, it tells a story of a busy man with many tools for his craft.

I like this image because it is another outdoor image. But for me personally, it tells a story of someone who enjoys the outdoors and some adventure, I like how well the image turned out with the sun behind the model and the environment altogether. I like the use of light here, the model is lit well and the sun isn’t doesn’t overpower the model, my main focus is the model herself. She is sat in amongst shrubbery, which most likely wasn’t very comfortable! But comfortable or not, if she enjoys being outdoors, then this would be a rather normal place for her to sit and explore. 

I like the depth of field in this image, it helps to blur out the background but also shows what’s there and how it affects her story.

This image tells a strong story for me. There are numerous props to tell you about the model in the centre, she has a disability for the wheelchair to be there, she likes tattoos and for me, I think she finds a tranquility brought by music. Music is very calming, and in this photo, there are books and one woman is reading a book, this scene tells me a story of looking for tranquility, peace and quiet, looking for a small escape from stress. 

For me personally, I enjoy reading and I enjoy listening to music whenever I’m feeling overwhelmed by stress, so this image resonated with me. I liked how the environment itself tells you a lot about the model, all while not telling you a word of it. It is beautifully lit with sunlight, possibly near golden hour, but not quite. It gives off a mood of comfort and warmth. 

The two images above are of the same man, but I liked the use of shadows in these photos. Immediately, you’re drawn to the man’s trade: blacksmithing. All around him are tools of his trade, fire and water he would use on a regular basis in his work. I liked the ambient lighting, I prefer darker images to brightly lit images, so these two photos drew me in immediately. The man himself tells a story: he looks rather tired to me, he is a little bit scruffy and dirty from working hard, a smoker to destress while on his breaks. 

I like the story this image tells, the story of a working man who works in a warm environment on a daily basis, working red hot metal, steam, hard labour involving heavy tools such as hammers. It would be a tiring job to do, especially every day, it tells me a story of strength more than anything else. He is a man working naturally in his trade, and it tells a strong story of manual labour. 

[stenbrozier]

Modern Losers’ Club Headcanons

Plot: Individual headcanons of the modern Loser’ about different things they’d do and love (mostly during high school)

Warnings: slight Reddie, shit ton of Stenburough, drug use + mentions of sex + swearing

——————————————————————————

Bill Denbrough:

~ He’s the artist, everyone knew that.

~Typical art kid who won all the awards and participated in every art class his school offered.

~ He just didn’t take choir or band because we know this boy has no musical abilities at all.

~ Bill would save up all his allowance and holiday money so that he could buy that really good drawing app that he could use on his IPad.

~ After he got it, there was no way to get him to look up at you for more than ten seconds. He would fall in love with digital art.

~ Remember he took all of the art classes? Well, creative writing and poetry we’re considered arts at Derry High School, so that’s where he fell in love with writing.

~ Suprisingly, he would be really into heavy metal. Bands like Bring Me the Horizon and Of Mice and Men would blare in his headphones while he drew in his room late at night.

~ Bill would also really love watching indie movies on Netflix and other platforms. He’s lowkey a movie buff, but he doesn’t tell people too much.

~ His favorite movie from the past decade would probably be Moonrise Kingdom (good movie!!) or The Skeleton Twins (also good movie!!)

~ Bill’s favorite book would 10000% be Turtles All The Way Down by John Green because of the main character and her battle with anxiety.

——————————————————————————

Mike Hanlon:

~ He runs a cooking YouTube channel, you can’t fight me on this one.

~ Mike would definitely have one of those motorized scooters, idk seems like a Mike thing

~ He’s in love with video games but only the ones that are based on a lot of skill. He doesn’t like first person shooters, nor does he like any games with violence at all. Tbh, Papa’s Pizzeria is right up his alley.

~ Mike would be a gym try hard, most definitely. But in every other class he’d just sit on his phone.

~ But he’s so smart that he’d pass all the tests anyway.

~ He’d work a lot just so he could afford the newest phone because he thinks it gives people less of a reason to pick on him and bully him. (News flash: it doesn’t)

~ Whenever Mike isn’t working, he volunteers at the animal shelter in Derry. He runs the Instagram account :)

~ Probably one of the guys who posts shirtless pics on Instagram because he likes the attention the girls give him in the comments.

~ Will answer any of Bill’s texts at 3am when he wants feedback on a new piece of art.

~ A secret theatre kid, no doubt. Not really a musical kid, but he loves acting and just being on stage with everyone’s attention on him.

——————————————————————————

Richie Tozier:

~ Speaking of theatre kids, Richie is the BIGGEST fucking one. He has been in every musical and play that his school has done since 6th grade, and he was one of the best kids they had.

~ He wears Pierce the Veil and Sleeping with Sirens shirts, but Richie mostly listens to softer bands like Arctic Monkeys and The Neighbourhood.

~ He has a bi pride pin on his backpack. Kids will sometimes pull it off and throw it around, but he just pulls another one out of a ziploc bag full of them in the tiny front pouch of his bag and sticks it on there.

~ Richie unapologetically owns a Juul and will sometimes let Bev borrow it as long as she pays him “25 cents a hit”, which she never does.

~ Posts music on SoundCloud. He’s not much of a singer outside of the musicals because he’s mostly shy with his talent; however, he does a lot of instrumentals.

~ Richie shops are thrift stores most of the time. He’ll take Eddie with him and though Eddie won’t touch anything until it’s been washed twice, Richie will buy him anything he likes.

~ He LOVES Harry Potter. He found the first book when he was younger and he just fell in love with the story. He owns all the first editions and all of the movies.

~ Goes to small venues to see bands that no one knows. Richie will go to so many concerts because he likes the escape it brings for him. He’s in his element when he goes to concerts.

~ Despite what many people think, he isn’t a whore :0 He just flirts a lot and he actually didn’t lose his virginity till he was 17 at a party. He regrets it, though, cause he was drunk off his ass.

~ He was also in the color guard for his high school’s marching band. A lot of the girls from the theatre stuff begged him to be apart of it because he could dance really well, and he ended up being in it for both the indoor and outdoor seasons all throughout high school.

——————————————————————————

Eddie Kaspbrak:

~ BOOKWORM, BOOKWORM, B O O K W O R M!!! This boy would spend every second he could just browsing the books that his school library had.

~ After he yelled at his mom for his pills, he started to kind of overcome his germaphobe tendencies, but he still was very iffy about touching things in places he’d never been.

~ For example, Richie took him to the park one time and he had never been there before, so the whole time he was holding his noses and steering clear of the snot nosed little kids.

~ Him and Richie definitely dated at some point or another. Whether to get a feel for guys or just for each other, but it did happen. Beverly was the only one who ever knew.

~ Eddie fell in love with engineering at school. He would always call one of the Losers at an ungodly hour in the morning and rant about how all of the buildings in town were built and with what materials. Honestly, Ben was the only one who shared this interest with him.

~ Eddie was the first to get his own car so all of the Losers would pile into his Jeep. Richie always tried to convince him to take off the doors, but Eddie thought that that was the biggest goddamn safety hazard he’d ever heard.

~ As they all got older, obviously him and Richie stayed close, but he also got surprisingly close with Ben and Ben would gush about Beverly to him after Eddie would excitedly explain how a car’s engine works or something like that.

~ Eddie was the one to convince Beverly to go after Ben and stop pining over Bill.

~ Eddie went to concerts with Richie all the time, and even if the sweaty roadies grossed him out, he fell in love with the bass killing his eardrums and the way the mic static could transform someone’s voice.

~ He also joined his school’s marching band (mainly cause Richie begged him) and was fucking AMAZING at playing snare drums.

——————————————————————————

Stanley Uris:

~ He was the last one to enter high school, everyone a year ahead of him, but he was ironically the most popular among the lower class men.

~ Stan was a very private person, but his willingness to do other’s homework for $5 a page made him infamous.

~ Because of all this money he’d been making, he’d buy the Losers presents all the time. He would treat them to their favorite snacks whenever they went to Keene’s or to a new shirt whenever they went to the mall over in Bangor. And he never went over budget because he’s a goddamn accountant by nature.

~ He had a massive crush on Bill and asked him to homecoming his freshman year. Yeah, they were bullied, but Stan couldn’t have been more happier.

~ Bill convinced him to tryout for the baseball team. He tried out for pitcher and got it immediately. He was also one of the sports kids who would post on his Snapchat whenever they had a game.

~ Him and Bill ended up dating up until junior year, when Bill admitted that he wanted to date at least one girl before college and Stan wasn’t mad because he honestly wasn’t feeling it anymore. Afterwards, they both started dating cheerleaders.

~ Stan was in Calculus his sophomore year of high school, which was the class that all of the AP seniors took. Many people called him a genius, he just thanked the internet.

~ Stan fell in love with indie bands like R.O.A.R and Florence + The Machines. Richie did, however, convince him to go to concerts with him and Eds. He might’ve not enjoyed the music, but he still loved being with his best friends since diapers.

~ He didn’t like movies too much but would watch them with Bill. He enjoyed TV shows a lot more. He’s definitely a true crime baby.

~ Stan also fell in love with photography because he was forced to take the class. He begged his parents to buy him a camera for his birthday, and his many cork boards were filled with pictures of his friends and birds.

——————————————————————————

Ben Hanscom:

~ Was a track start in high school. He ran off all of his fat and just fell in love with the high of running (tbh this is my favorite part about Ben’s character. like such a determined boy 🥺)

~ Ben enjoyed sitting at the library with Eddie and just watching him peruse books, usually pointing a few that he had read and liked. He also just loved the fact that him and Eddie were able to get so close as they got older.

~ Ben was in all the engineering courses his school offered. He was just so happy that he could take classes that pertained to the career path he wanted to go down.

~ He was able to finally get Beverly their senior year. He had been in love with her for the longest time, and she asked him to homecoming.

~ Ben also considered trying out for the football team, but it conflicted with the winter track season so he wasn’t able to; however, him, Mike, and Bill would always play their own small games in the field by Mike’s house.

~ While Stan helped everything with their math homework, Ben helped everyone with their history homework. He was a big history nerd, and everyone knew he paid attention the most.

~ He lost a bet one time and Richie was able to give him a stick and poke tattoo anywhere of his choosing. So now on the inside of his left ring finger he has R.T. written messily.

~ Ben loves pop music. He had always liked it, and some of his favorite artists were Katy Perry and Sia.

~ He rode his bike to school everyday. He was a very big proponent for the environment and hated the idea of driving, so he’d pass up the rides from Eddie or Richie and just bike with his headphones in.

~ Ben was apart of the school’s Green Team and protested climate change and the use of fossil fuels. When he had free time, he’d study ways that he could benefit the environment when he became an architect.

——————————————————————————

Beverly Marsh:

~ She was an English wiz. It was her favorite subject, and she fell in love with analyzing poetry and other forms of literary work.

~ Beverly started to let her hair grow out again and she was relieved to see that it started to grow out straight. She hated her curly hair.

~ She bleached her hair a few times throughout high school; she hated the red because it reminded her too much of her mother.

~ Her and Richie’s friendship fell off big time, but she got super close with Bill, Ben, and Mike. Her crush in Bill didn’t deplete for a while, even after him and Stan started dating. She still had hope.

~ Eddie told her about Ben and it really changed her whole perspective on everything. But that wasn’t until junior year.

~ Though she didn’t have too good of a singing voice, she loved being in choir. The angelic reverberations throughout the auditorium whenever they performed always gave her chills and she wanted so desperately to be a part of it.

~ Beverly wrote a lot of poetry. She wrote some to her friends, to her dead mom, to her asshole dad. Just to whoever she was focused on in that moment.

~ She helped Mike after school at the animal shelter and actually ended up adopting a kitten for herself.

~ Luckily, her dad didn’t mind the cat too much as long as Bev took care of it and didn’t bother him for a single thing.

~ Beverly didn’t get her license until she was well into her twenties, but she loved hanging her arm out of the passenger’s side window of Richie’s car and listen to the bands that he’d blast with closed eyes.

[lululawrence]

lululawrence’s April 2019 Fic List

Click here for previous months’ fic lists

Guess who’s back, back again... I actually wrote that when I drafted this post a month ago and I’m keeping it cause it’s funny ahhaha So this month has been a ride, hasn’t it? I’ve read some amazing fic though, so I’m super excited to talk about it with you! I read quite a few from the Shake Off the Dust collection as well as fics from the beginning of round 2 of @onedirectionbigbang and other various things as I tried and failed to keep up with all the new fic coming out haha We are so blessed to have so much amazing fic. So, without further ado, here are the fics I read and loved this month!

Hazy by @nikogda / nikogda This fic was written for me because I was anxious one day and they saw a post referring to it and they wrote this as a soothing fic for me and lemme tell ya, IT WORKED. It was so soft and... well... hazy. haha I loved it. A great fic to come back to on a rough day, for sure!

Keep Your Hands Up, So I Can See by @goodmorningtoyouuniverse / GMTYUniverse This fic was such a great HP AU! It was enemies to lovers with a touch of misunderstanding and frustrations and just all the good things with cameos by some of our favorite characters from the original series! I loved it very much a lot. It threw me into the world and made me smile quite a bit.

it's in his kiss by @disgruntledkittenface / disgruntledkittenface This is where Maggie took what she wrote through requests on ask and posted them to ao3 for the kiss meme and lemme tell ya! There’s some ships she wrote that I never felt a desire for, and she wrote them so perfectly that I almost started shipping them hahahaa Each chapter is it’s own little world and it pulled me in so entirely that they felt like full fics! How does she do that in such few words? I dunno. But they’re all glorious. Every last one. Defo a great read when things are hard too, i’d read a chapter when I had a moment and it made my busy, stressful days so much better.

Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now by @allwaswell16 / allwaswell16 I think this one was written for the short fic fest, and I loved it so so much! She describes Harry’s movements as “giraffing about” or something like that and I will never stop laughing about that. Add to it that Harry in the fic legit thought Louis was a mannequin and I just DIE. It’s amazing. Such a silly, fun fic!

Soju (소주) by @gettingaphdinmomo / gettingaphdinlarry This is a Shiall fic that just drew me in. It has such a visual and atmospheric pull to it, like all of her fics do, and it makes you almost feel as if you’re somehow there. I dunno how she does it, but her magic is worked for sure with this fic and I had to just sit there, and process when it ended. A fun, short fic to easily get lost in.

Just Go With It by @rainbowsandlovehl / rainbowslovehl (Larrymateforlife) This fic!!!! Meet Cute heaven! It was light and fluffy and awkward and silly and I loved it so much and for real this Brett character was TOO MUCH. hahahahaha With the added fun of the little jokes like talk of organic guacamole etc and I loved it so much. It was the smile I needed.

All I Want Is To Fall With You by @2tiedships2 / 2tiedships2 Mel keeps posting fics that are so fun! How does she do it? This time the crew takes on a ski trip and Louis has to deal with stupid alphas staying in the same cabin without knowing about it beforehand and of course nothing goes to plan! That’s half the fun, though, right? Besides. The alphas aren’t that bad. haha

Do You Wanna Ride by @phd-mama / phdmama She wrote this fic for @justalittlelouislove and I screamed reading it the whole time. I took so long reading it because I kept stopping to scream and share how uncomfortable I was over the obvious awkwardness and sexual tension and it was just SO SO SO GOOD. The embarrassment just gahhhhhhh I loved it.

Strawberries & Cigarettes by @dimpled-halo / dimpled_halo A year later I FINALLY read this and I loved it as much as I knew I would. I wanted pain, and it gave it to me! It gave me pain and healing and a gorgeous story. It was such a great read, I’m so so happy I finally had the time to dedicate to it because it was just. So much of everything I love.

Let It Down by @red--special / red_special This fic has also been on my to read list for ages and I am also so so happy I got to read it finally! It was such a great fic and so much fun and so sexy and funny and awkward and I wanted to bask in it a little longer. It was so so good. hahahaha I keep thinking about the tattoo and I can’t stop giggling. Just do yourself a favor and read this fic. haha

Like A Siren In The Night by @crazyupsetter / whoknows This is an a/b/o fic that I could not get enough of or read fast enough. It’s historical, though that doesn’t play a major role, and the playing with the world building was SO MUCH FUN to read. The way their relationship developed as well was just DELICIOUS. I loved every second of it.

please forgive me if my lips quake by @disgruntledkittenface / disgruntledkittenface Girl direction! With a cat! I was heart eyes the entire fic and once again, such feeling was evoked in it that I wanted to just sit and enjoy it for awhile longer. Sigh. What pure enjoyment! I loved it.

I was the King (tonight let it go) by @sadaveniren / SadaVeniren I... Okay listen. lollll I didn’t write this obviously, but it felt like such a self indulgent read I almost wished I had? If that makes sense? It was everything I love. I LOVE the emotional side and thought behind BDSM. Like, that’s most of what makes it so so so interesting and fascinating for me to read, and Sada gave that to us with this fic in DROVES as well as the fighting against natural inclinations etc etc etc. It was just a fab fic and I loved so so so much of it.

Failure to Launch by @all-these-larrythings / Rearviewdreamer Michelle has a way of taking things I don’t know about and making me love them so so so much. This film was one that many I knew loved and I felt mainly meh about it, but I knew if Michelle wrote it I would love it, and I WAS RIGHT. She took all the things I was not fond of in the original and twisted them so it still referenced the original source, but made it so much better. I loved it so so so much because it was so very much like the original film, but also very much her own. 

Come Home to Me by @pocketsunshineharry / ishiplouis I wanted pain, and pain was what I got. I cried and I kept waiting and waiting for things to come together again and they finally did! But WOW the pain leading up to that! It was amazing how much was harnessed in it. I will say, please beware the tags. Some heavy topics are handled in the fic - including some depression/anxiety etc - so please be safe with that. A great read, though! 

fondre ton absence by @scrunchyharry / scrunchyharry OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG I just. I’m a sucker for WWI and WWII period anything. It’s one of my favorite periods in history for the social, political, militaristic, just EVERYTHING historically. I find it fascinating and I adore it. I was both excited and wary how this would go then, knowing how much I love it. Well. I cried the entire way through and was in awe of how the time period and everything was handled. It’s an amnesia friends to lovers wartime period-typical homophobia acknowledging fic which basically means it is my dream fic. I cannot rave about it enough, much less the incredible art that was done by @whenthebodiesspeak!!! It was STUNNING and yeah. Just. Amazing. A masterpiece.

An Unbalanced Force by @kingsofeverything / FullOnLarrie MAROLD HAROLD with art by @goodmorningtoyouuniverse! I cried a few times during this one and it was such a realistic and beautiful and comprehensive view of a relationship, of adulthood, of trying to find love again after, just... all of it. It is a study of flawed individuals trying to make do and learning where their lines are and it is gorgeous. I loved it so so so much and I keep randomly thinking about it. A great fic and worth the wait and teasing she gave us over the months! hahahaha

That's What I'm Here For by @taggiecb / taggiecb ANOTHER DREAM FIC, ANOTHER FIC THAT MADE ME CRY! I cannot rave enough about how this big bang has kicked off, like, I just truly cannot. @noellehenry did a gorgeous moodboard for it as well, and I just. Demisexual farmer Louis who has been on his own for so long he just. Hardly knows how to be social anymore and Harry has to come and teach him and I’m about to give away spoilers so I’ll stop but this fic is so close to my heart, okay? I love love love love love it.

To Carry Onward by @londonfoginacup / LadyLondonderry THIS LITTLE FIC!!! I keep yelling, I know. Sorry not sorry. But for real it’s 500 words and just...so full of love and longing and mystery and hope and I cannot. I love Emmu’s words and worlds and this is no exception.

A Spell and A Spark by @dinosaursmate / dinosaursmate It’s out in the world! This fic was everything I needed when I read it. I was having a really rough time, and I would get to the end of those days and get to read this fic and it soothed me, cheered me, and took me away to another world. It was so much fun and just pure joy to read. And then the art that @londonfoginacup made for it! It was such a great combo of writing and art. Another wonderful fic for big bang!

{insert acclaimed artist} was never even in love anyway by underthesunlight This is the first of several fics I read from the Shake Off the Dust collection and it was such a fun read. It was domestic and silly and soft and it made me smile.

Primtemps by @londonfoginacup / LadyLondonderry She’s just so good, isn’t she? I finished this fic and almost immediately went back to the beginning because I wanted to read it again. It’s so soft and you could almost SMELL what she was describing. It was a perfect read of a perfect day and it made me long for the days in the past that I’d had like it. Glorious.

Taking Care of You (Is My Favorite Thing) by @allthelarrylovex / cherrylarry Niam! Not usually my pairing of choice, but I loved it so much. I also very much identified with the shitty allergies aspect of it as I am dealing with that myself at the moment, so it just had me sitting there nodding like IT REALLY DOES SUCK BABES I GET IT hahaha

You Keep Me Warm by @crinkle-eyed-boo / crinkle-eyed-boo (KimmieRocks) I’ve not read Own the Scars yet, but I still read this despite it being a time stamp, and I’m so glad I did. I loved it and it made me smile. It also made me want to read the original, so I can’t wait until I have a chance to!

Love's Gentle Spring by @laynefaire / Layne Faire (HisDarlin) This is also a continuation! It’s a fun addition to her spring drabbles from last year, which are not necessary to read in order to enjoy this, though it does add to the fun hahaha I loved that little series so much and was very very glad she made this addition!

Housewives of Our Lives by @homosociallyyours / homosociallyyours I’ve never watched any of the housewives shows, but that didn’t matter. As usual Megan wrote a fic that had me wanting to be their friend and hang out with them as they did these ridiculous things because it sounded like such fun. I loved it as well.

A Larry Limerick by @kingsofeverything / FullOnLarrie I know this was mostly silly and to be funny, but I enjoyed it so I’m including it here hahaha

sun, here it comes by @louandhazaf / YesIsAWorld and It's been a long, cold, lonely winter by @kingsofeverything / FullOnLarrie I’m putting both of them here, because if you haven’t read them yet you should. They are two sides of the same story, and I fully recommend you read them in the order I listed them too haha I did and it was wonderful and delightful and basically all things good. SO much fun.

just me, him, and the moon by HazHas4Nips This was cuuuuuuute! I don’t even know what more to say, I just keep sitting here and smiling thinking about it. So I guess if you want a fic that makes you smile, this is a great little one. 

Spring Break by @allwaswell16 / allwaswell16 This fic came out of a partially true story and it was so much fun to finally be able to read what Anitra did with it haha I was giggling and loving it so so much the entire way. As usual. Can’t go wrong.

What's Mine is Yours by @uhohmorshedios / yeah_alright This fic is listed as a Narry fic, and it is, but it’s Narry friendship which made me giggle so so so much! hahaha It was so funny and the way Harry was described and Niall’s just...almost annoyance? I can’t even explain. It’s so much fun. 

Latching Onto You by @reminiscingintherain / reminiscingintherain This fic is pure fluff. Fluff and silliness and all things sweet and good. I was trying to find the best way to describe it and the first thing that came to mind was it was a bowl of sweet dessert and I finally realized it’s a parfait. It’s got layers, but all of it is sweet and soft and yummy. hahaha SO if that sounds like something amazing in a fic, then you defo wanna give this a read! 

Face Your Fears by @sadaveniren / SadaVeniren I’ll be honest, I finished this one around 2 am after a very long day and had to wake up too early again this morning, so I still haven’t fully computed this fic lollll Just know the pain is real, it is glorious, the journey the characters all take and the way Harry and Louis’ relationship grows is so incredible, I just... this fic is everything I’ve wanted in an a/b/o since I started reading a/b/o almost five years ago haha 

And that’s my very long fic list from this month! I hope you enjoy them as much as I did if you give them a try. And please remember to leave nice comments and kudos for the authors who work so hard to gift us with these stories! Happy reading :D

[wings-of-a-storm]

Apparently it is that time again when the emotions of my Skam France addiction bubble over and I actually have time to write up some thoughts on scenes that have moved me.

In the stress of Incommunicado Eliott Week, now seems like a great time to revisit a slightly happier time for Elu... Hint: it involves paint.

AN OVERDUE REVISITING OF EPISODE 7: THE PAINT FIGHT ERA

Let me try and start from the beginning…

BOY GANG HELPING LUCAS

They may not always be my favourite boy squad, but it warms my heart how Lucas’ friends all gathered to support him through an emotionally tough task: painting the Mural of Heartbreak that was supposed to be Lucas’ and Eliott’s special thing together.

Come to think of it, Lucas didn’t technically even have to do it. If Daphne needed the eyesore gone that badly, she could have kept bugging Eliott to do it since he was the one who offered in the first place. With that in mind, I guess Lucas needed to paint over the mural as a form of closure. It may have always been hanging over his head as this ongoing promise between him and Eliott. By painting over it with his friends, he could cut that painful ‘what if’ from his life and close that door before Eliott can get another foot in. It is a tangible way for him to feel like he is in control and moving on (with the bonus of making Daphy happy).

The boys helping him through that was the Gang support we and Lucas had been needing! I don’t have much else to add about them in this scene but wanted to give them kudos anyway because they really helped Lucas a lot just by being there with him and helping him have a new memory of the mural. (It’s hard to say that with a straight face after knowing what happens…)

SENDING AN ULTIMATUM

I was honestly rather skeptical that the boys would be able to help Lucas navigate the strained relationship he was in with Eliott. Their relationship felt so damaged compared to other versions -- Lucas wasn’t budging or letting any softness in no matter how many well-meaning drawings he received. Eliott needed to prove his mindset was different before Lucas could even consider letting him back into his life. Eliott hadn’t achieved that by the time Lucas met up with his friends to paint the mural though, and a few texts to Eliott didn’t seem likely to appeal to Lucas. The ball was in Eliott’s court after all, to prove he wasn’t just leading Lucas on again.

But to my surprise, the text ultimatum started unfolding anyway. And even more surprising, it actually started to make sense. Lucas had chosen to ghost Eliott until he was convinced that Eliott had made his choice and was going to stick to it. What that meant though was that Lucas had taken on a passive role (just waiting things out) and he became trapped in that self-imposed limbo land. He couldn’t get out by himself because he was too in love to give up that last drop of hope that Eliott would somehow come back and mean it this time.

We’ve seen Lucas be savage before so he did have it in him to actually text Eliott (as Eliott himself had even requested with his last drawing) to tell him to knock it off and stop leaving drawings, but Lucas never quite reached that step. Perhaps he was hoping Eliott would get the message on his own after two deliberate ghostings and he wouldn’t have to say the difficult words out loud. But of course I think it was more that his subconscious just couldn’t handle cutting hope off completely that the boy he was in love with would dump Lucille for good and come back to him.

It wasn’t going to happen though because nothing was changing. It made sense then that Lucas would be receptive to (unsolicited) advice on how to take that final step and make it either a clean break or a clean reunion. Especially when his ‘experienced’ (wtf Arthur!) friends seemed so confident that texting an ultimatum was guaranteed to end Lucas’ woes one way or another. It’s hard not to get hyped up with that sort of group confidence. It was the push Lucas probably knew deep down that he needed to take to exit his own purgatory. He was only leading himself on… I love that even though the Gang gave Lucas the basic guidelines of what message to send to Eliott, Lucas, in typical Savage Style, was able to put the killer touches on his texts. He didn’t mince his words; they sure cut straight through the bullshit with a bullseye that drew blood. This, more than anything, sold the scene for me. It felt so true to Lucas that he would jump on a chance to express his frustration without any games but just needed that push from an unbiased third party.

I only have one minor issue with the scene: the pacing of the Gang’s solution just felt a little disproportionately quick. Is it a French language thing? Are things just expressed so much easier and quicker in French than in English so it takes longer to read and process? Because the Gang’s advice kind of gave me whiplash -- especially when they were able to even digress with the ‘wtf Arthur’ tangent in almost the same breath.

Or is it just a Skam France thing because they have that painful time limit that always messes with the pacing? I guess I just get frustrated that some scenes feel a little rushed when they don’t have to be. Even with a time limit, you can still work your pacing around it by cutting certain lines out to give pivotal scenes the space they need to breathe. For example, they could have left out Arthur’s mysterious past relationship or Lucas listening to a story about a recently deceased hoarder… By rushing the Gang’s advice, you don’t really have time as a viewer to anticipate whether it will work and whether Eliott will even show up or not. It wouldn’t have ruined the sense of urgency to slow it down even just a little… But maybe that comes down to my personal taste.

LUCAS: THE ARTISTE

God love Lucas for his highly convincing I’m just an Artiste holding a paint brush while pondering a mural on a Friday afternoon pose. How relatable was that. Of course Lucas needed to feel unaffected and strong even though he was practically trembling with nervous energy. His fear of turning around after hearing the door open was palpable. It doesn’t matter how many times I rewatch it, I am always scared for him. Plus the soft, tentative piano music accompanying Lucas’ nerves is almost too much to bear with its earnest fragility…

The man he is desperately in love with has just walked into the room and might break his heart all over again…

A WILD RACOON APPEARS: ABOUT TIME

Eliott Demaury, don’t you ever leave us again! Lucas had missed Eliott; I had missed Eliott; we all had missed Eliott, so of course the very second we saw his beautiful, earnest racoon face peep around the door it was like OH MY GOD, THE SUN HAS COME OUT!

Seriously, shout out to the mise-en-scene crew for placing that It’s About Time poster right beside Eliott during his close-up arrival shot because truth. Those hell weeks were totally like Titanic and Interstellar rolled into one: even though only two weeks had passed for the characters, for our reality it had been 84 YEARRRRS. But back to Eliott’s beautiful, earnest racoon face.

How nervous was he before he let the bravado slip back into place! And excuse me, child? “Need a hand?” Pretty smooth for a guy who has been leaving drawings of droopy-eared racoons around and getting ignored. Oh, to have that kind of fake confidence! He really had nothing to lose. (Was the wording in French dripping in double meaning too though? Good times.)

Guys, Eliott is really strong though. How did he have function left in his legs to walk over after being hit with that face…

THE MURAL METAPHOR:

I really like the way Skam France turned the common room mural into a metaphor for Lucas’ and Eliott’s relationship. The final clip opens on both of them examining it in silence, looking at what they have to work with and what can be done to fix it. Their first words to each other in this moment complete the metaphor with their double meaning:

- “What were you planning on doing?” - “I don’t know right now.”

Eliott is of course the one to nominate a solution to the ‘mural’ because he is the one who needs to fix the error of breaking up their relationship and hurting Lucas. It is up to Eliott to salvage that mess and lead them in a new direction (Lucas’ texts made it clear that he won’t budge until Eliott does).

So Eliott dips his paintbrush into his tub of emotion and flings his feelings at the wall in wild, raw abandon. (And he says they should paint with every colour because Lucas brings out all his colours and Eliott is putting all of himself into this. Ugly sobbing!)

Eliott urges Lucas to try it too. And his dumb, beautiful, earnest racoon face is so hopeful that Lucas will because that will mean that Lucas is willing to try and forgive him.

Lucas halfheartedly gives it a go but his heart isn’t really ready to commit yet, so his flick of paint ‘misses’ its mark (allegedly at least). Eliott can see that Lucas isn’t ready yet and needs to find a way through to him. He makes a joke to try and soften things further but all that does is manage to stick a paintbrush through his own heart because Lucas actually smiles and Eliott remembers (probably for the nth time) just how much he has missed seeing it.

In the face of that emotion, Eliott simply can’t sustain his bravado anymore and he confesses: “It’s nice to see you smile. I missed it.” For once, Eliott reveals the sadness that he normally tries to keep hidden from Lucas. His words have in fact stripped both of their masks away.

And even more emotional than all of that perhaps: this moment was a clear nod to the passe på meg scene in og. Even though Isak is the one who uses that line, what is actually revealed by Even in that scene is that he saw Isak on the first day he came to school. In Skam France, Eliott has obviously already revealed that to Lucas early on, so this line (the last remaining bit from passe på meg) seems to act as an extension to its original sentiment: Eliott seems to be revealing that he has continued to watch Lucas from afar at school and hasn’t stopped since that first day. He has noticed Lucas’ changed demeanour and absent smiles. He hasn’t seen Lucas smile for a long time. (It all links nicely with Eliott’s ‘In case you ever foolishly forget’ sentiment too.)

Like yes, technically that line can also be interpreted as ‘I missed seeing your smile in general because Lucille’s can’t compare’ but the use of the passe på meg line seems to scream significance… Eliott has noticed.

SAVAGE LUCAS:

As sweet and well-meaning as Eliott’s sentiments are, we can always count on Lucas to cut right through them to reach the heart of the matter... I love him so much for cockblocking Eliott’s attempts to open an intimate channel between them with his straight up: ‘You miss my smile and yet you looked sooooo happy with Lucille the other week. It’s totes amazeballs that you’re ‘talking’ to her again after supposedly dumping her ass.’ Like yassss Lucas, don’t let him get away with that type of seductive sentimentality! He’s not deliberately trying to lead you on but the results are the same and you deserve better than that back and forth!

(Beware, guys, because a small rant is about to start.)

Eliott’s response to Lucas really frustrates me. There is a pattern to it and I just can’t ignore it…

His response to Lucas’ ‘You looked happy with Lucille’ was “You can’t say that.”

Um, yes, yes he can. Just because Eliott knows he isn’t happy with Lucille, doesn’t mean Lucas can mindread… Like Lucas has stated that that is the impression he got when he saw them together and he has a right to that interpretation. Dictating what Lucas is allowed to think without elaborating on why he has misinterpreted it isn’t helpful, it’s actually really dismissive. Of course that is going to rub Lucas the wrong way. I am so happy Lucas heard that response and served up a sassy ‘Oh yeh? This will be good’ face to counter it. He was not having any of that crap.

But Eliott only makes things worse by saying: “Because none of it matters.”

Ugh again, yes it does, Eliott. It obviously matters to Lucas. He has just told you that he saw you back with your ex and is hurt by it. If he is hurt, then that matters. I know Eliott doesn’t mean it that way, but it is really harsh to be made to feel like you’re just being stupid and your hurt isn’t important.

It is a shame that Eliott has a habit of sweeping aside Lucas’ emotions without properly acknowledging them out of fear of rejection and a misguided need to prove him wrong because of it. We saw the same brush off in the cafeteria scene and later again in the kitchen scene. Eliott means well but I really wish he would validate Lucas’ emotions so Lucas can at least feel heard.

And like I get that Eliott wasn’t elaborating between each audacious statement because he was trying to build up to the surprise revelation he had in store for Lucas, but boy did he choose the wrong method, for me...

Back to their conversation though.

“It doesn’t matter?” Lucas rightfully echoes, for all the above reasons.

And finally Eliott has his cue (the cue he has been building up to during their whole exchange) to go in for his grand gesture kill: “Ever since I met you, you’re the only thing that has mattered.”

Cue piano music returning. Cue Lucas basically stopping breathing. Cue a literal light flare hitting the screen beside Lucas. Cue Eliott smiling because Lucas has finally heard his Truth.

And cue the return of the mural metaphor: while Lucas is stunned and left to process this grand romantic declaration, Eliott turns to add lots more paint to their Relationship Mural. It is like the tangible release of his sentiment; like his way of physically proving his own commitment to Lucas. He will work on this mural/relationship with everything he has, for as long as it takes.

The question is: will Lucas work on it as well?

Once Eliott has finished adding splashes of colour (because he is all in with his feelings!), he turns to Lucas to both make sure Lucas has seen how serious he is and to see what Lucas has decided.

Lucas’ response is to silently pick up a paint brush and add to the mural too. And if that is not the most powerful response… Some things need no words.

PAINT FIGHT

Well. When we speculated that Eliott’s grand gesture in the common room might be to paint a hedgehog, who knew that Eliott would literally be painting his hedgehog...

Eliott came into that room with the determination to get Lucas back. As soon as he got his sign that Lucas was willing to forgive him, his rush of happiness could no longer be contained and he darted towards Lucas with an impromptu paint dab on the nose.

It was so unexpected for Lucas, it allowed him to forget all of his deep-seated Lucille insecurities for the moment and fall back into that easy, old, familiar rhythm with Eliott. It must have been such a relief to suspend the recent heaviness and just be together like that again, as dumb, playful, carefree teenagers.

And because they are dumb, playful, carefree teenagers, their paint fight escalates. It gets more physical, it gets more exciting, their hearts start to race more… And in a brief stalemate, they get caught in each other’s eyes and their play-fighting drops away to reveal what it had been substituting for all along: their desire to physically connect with each other and consummate what they are feeling.

And what an intense love it is to make you forget you are tasting paint and having sex on school property, where anyone could walk into that room since it is, you know, a common room.

Their love making (grinding, rubbing, being handsy, whichever method they were making love to each other with) was a literal piece of art, as others have already said. It was an explosion of colour in a world that had been dark for both of them.

I’m squeamish with paint and other questionable substances, but when I put all that aside, I can imagine just how amazing it would have felt to have that slippery addition to their sense of touch. Feeling skin against skin, body against body, palms against skin that is sensitive precisely because it isn’t normally touched is a very heady thing, let along adding a kinky lubrication onto it. Even paint-covered fingers running through hair would feel different with strands clumping together and exposing parts of your head to cool air.

Not only that but you’d be able to see the marks your hands are leaving on the other person; like you are drawing them into existence and -- dare I say it -- claiming them for yourself after seeing them with other people and being denied them. How alive would you feel with all those heightened sensations?

And what has been evident with Lucas and Eliott from the very beginning is how important touch is for them. Even during their first kiss, their hands were running over each other’s bodies and tangling in each other’s hair. Then their morning after kisses were filled with even more sensuality with their (basically) naked bodies pressed up against each other so that they could feel each other’s weight and warmth. This new lovemaking scene had all of that in it again. It was so vibrant and so loving, it was almost too much to bear…

They just get so much comfort from the physicality of each other’s presence. Perhaps it is that reassurance of feeling someone physically there, of not being abandoned, of every part of them being loved. Whatever the reason behind it, they are so compatible in that way.

It was a stunning scene to end the episode with. Especially the way the light kept increasing and engulfed them at the end. They lost themselves over to pleasure but they never lost each other in it. They both went there together.

And I felt that. We all felt that, I think. What more is there to even say?