#painting the glass myself would be too much unfortunately

[liebelesbe]

quick irl egg today!! (+ the other side) @quezify

[ID: A glass jar that's been painted white. On one side there's a fried egg drawn on it, on the other side it's the face of a ghost. End ID]

[midascrow]

Alastor x Reader

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Favoritism Pt.2(1.5)

Part 1

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Synopsis: Alastor finds himself wondering why exactly he favors you so much

a/n: this is more of a part 1.5 really, as it’s mostly just Alastair’s perspective of what’s going on, but I figured you guys would enjoy this 🍓

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Fluffy red ears twitched back and fourth, listening to the idle and mindless chatter of the hotel inhabitants.

Alastor couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of mirth at the topic of discussion. While he made no attempts to hide his blatant bias, he hadn’t thought he was quite that obvious.

Though a tiny part of him felt a bit smug, especially at the claim of that empty headed serpent. A kiss?

The idea wasn’t unpleasant but he was unfortunately mistaken.

The two of you had never shared such an intimate gesture, much less in the company of others.

No-, he supposed the closest you had ever gotten was a small bump of the nose to one another’s. It wasn’t an inherently romantic gesture on the radio demons part, more instinctual than anything, but he could suppose there had been a certain layer of affection lined in the action nonetheless.

“What do you suppose they’re talking about Al..?”

His ears twitched forward to fully take in the sound of your candied voice.

Alastor didn’t consider himself a fan of sweet things like candy and cakes. But he always seemed to make an exception when it came to you.

“Hm..~ Seems our dear friends are under the impression that you and I are…an item of sorts.” His smile twitched, inching upwards with amusement when he saw the way your eyes widened, a warmth on your cheeks that roused a small huff of pride from his nose.

“Oh…well that doesn’t..upset you?…right?” Your concern is down right precious. So bothered with his comfort that it makes the fabric of his tail coat shift, just briefly.

“Hmm~…perhaps if it were another sinner who they believed I had such relations with. However because it’s you my dear, I can’t seem to find myself bothered by the idea.”

You were far too naive. (Cute). Your sparkly gaze almost made him angry. Like he wanted to squeeze you till it eased the tight sensation in his chest. Though he wouldn’t dare to act on such an impulse. For fear of losing such pleasant company of course.

But he couldn’t stop himself from teasing you. Just a little. “Infact…I’d say I’m rather flattered by the notion~. To think they see me a fit partner for a gem like you.”

That feeling got subsequently stronger as he watched you bury your face into the crook of your shoulder, a shy, perhaps embarrassed smile painting your lips and making a that shifting of his tail coat return. Like those aforementioned sweets had found their way into his system and subsequently thrown him into a vicious sugar rush. His heart was practically bouncing off the walls of his ribcage, though he hadn't the faintest idea why.

“Alastor…” His name was a garbled whine, swatting at him playfully as you returned to dusting the bannister, distracting yourself as he sidled beside you still, ever attendant while his shadow fluttered around, moving glasses and nicknacks for you to dust off. “Are you going to tell them then..?”

“What ever do you mean?”

Your eyes glanced back, lips pursed. “Well…you are going to tell them we’re not together right?”

Well that sounded unpleasant, and his immediate thought had been an internal grimace. But he pondered the thought for a moment, mindful of the eyes on both your backs as he stepped around the side of you, clawed hands dancing across your shoulder and arm thoughtfully.

“Hmm…~..No.”

He paused, ears twitched backwards as his lips connected gently with the skin of your nose, sweet and lingering as he failed to ignore the twitch of his grin at the gasps that echoed behind.

“No fucking way.”

“I say let them wonder..~”

……

Alastor could admit, even by his standards this was a bit mean.

His “loving” gestures had amped up quite a bit the following week at the hotel.

Lingering touches, thoughtful hand placements, small gestures and sweet words. Nothing explicitly romantic…but there was always something implied in his gaze that perhaps even he himself wasn't aware of.

It wasn’t in an intentional effort to lead you on. He was hardly that cruel. But some part of him…found deep satisfaction in watching your eyes shine and your cheeks darken and become hot.

And that itch had only gotten worse too.

Sometimes it was small. An urge to pinch your cheek which he acted on, mindful of his claws in doing so. His ears always twitched at your disgruntled whines, always tuned to your words and noises. Even unintentionally.

There had been one moment when, your silly little self had gotten caught on that same rug, again. Alastor had been on the other side of the room, but the moment your squeak reached his ears, they swiveled back, and a mass of tentacles lurched up from the ground, gently rolling you onto you greet before disappearing like they had never existed.

And Alastor hadn’t even turned around, still idly chatting with the stunned princess who barely hid her ever widening smile.

Husker seemed the most displeased with his current antics. Always preaching to the others that this was a trick. That he was playing with you. Toying with you.

The radio demon wished that was the case now.

Frankly, he wasn’t sure why he was doing it. He knew he favored you above the others. That was natural. Instinctual. Obvious. And while the others reactions, especially those of the spear wielding ex angel and the gambler were fairly amusing, if that had been the soul purpose it was likely he would’ve grown bored by now. And he would’ve stopped.

But it wasn’t. And he hadn’t.

And it was all becoming a bit overwhelming.

Yet you didn’t question it. Sometimes your brow would raise, at a particularly bold gesture or comment sent your way, and yes your eyes would dart around as if to see who was watching. But you never complained. And if he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were enjoying yourself, if the sweetheart smile that graced your lips after each instance was anything to go off.

So Alastor didn’t feel the need to label what he was experiencing or truly ponder why. He was enjoying himself, as were you. To him, nothing needed to be said.

“So are you two bangin or nah?”

Though he supposed not everyone felt the same.

Taglist: @preciousbabypeter @ouroborostheunholy @chirimeimei @shanksstrawhat @for-hearthand-home @random-3455 @ittoehurt @salutations-demonsanddappers

(Anyone who wanted to be tagged and wasn’t, for whatever reason your blogs weren’t showing up,🍓)

[sultrybaby]

Nothing Compares To Being In Love With You (S.G)

(pics are not mine. credit to rightful owners. divider also from pinterest)

summary🦢 In which a cluster of old letters stand as the only testament of gojo's love for you, from birth to (quite literally) death.

genre 🦢 romance, angst, some fluff

pairing (s) 🦢 gojo x reader | reader x naoya zenin

warnings 🦢 reader/main character death, MAJOR ANGST obviously, not exactly forbidden love but more unfortunate circumstances, domestic abuse, mentions of bleeding and punching (no actual description of the abuse this is unrelated bleeding and punching), excessive use of the word sin in one of the monologues, mentions of glass, naoya zenin sucks, letters are from gojo's pov which might be hard to follow I am not sure. Gojo is down bad.

DO NOT ROMANTICIZE ABUSE. THIS FIC (AND ME) DOES NOT CONDONE ROMANTICIZATION OF ABUSE AND IF U ARE LOOKING FOR FICS THAT DO (WHICH IS SICK) THIS IS NOT THE FIC FOR U AND ALSO PLS BLOCK ME CUZ EW.

a/n: this was supposed to be an enhypen fanfic but then I changed my mind. I'm honestly just shocked I actually finished this. Hopefully this idea has manifested to be as good as it seemed in my head and isn't confusing to follow. ENJOY BESTIESSSSS.

🦢🦢🦢🦢🦢🦢🦢

"So apparently, this house belonged to a young bachelor once," explained Mary to her all-too-curious daughter eveline, who sat wide-eyed like a little lamb on the floor of the new house the family had just moved into.

'Really?"

"Yes, baby," Mary chuckled, running her fingers through eveline's (or evie, as they lovingly call her) hair to brush the strands away from her face.

"Where is he now?"

"Oh I don't know sweetheart," Mary sighed, lightly amused at the disappointment on evie's face.

"But maybe there are some clues around the house! If you ever get the time,  you should explore. Who knows, you might find something…"

Evie's eyes twinkled in excitement at the prospect of having an adventure in this foreign pile of bricks that she now had to learn to call home. Perhaps this will create a sense of oneship with the house.

Determined to uncover the secrets of the mysterious young bachelor, little evie started on her mission to unearth every corner of the building. After toppling boxes, crawling through crevices, and occasionally bumping her head on random walls, evie finally uncovered a rather absurd looking block.

And that is the story of how Mary was gifted this curious looking box by her exhausted daughter, waddling excitedly to show her the discovery.

The box had an old-fashioned grace to it. It was clearly disintegrating; cheap, fading, yellowed white  paint hung off the corners, all dried up, waiting to be chipped off. It seemed as if there was some kind of locking mechanism in the front of the box which has long been broken. All it took was a simple motion for the mouth of the box to open wide, revealing a neatly stacked set of what one could assume were letters.

The first letter was different to the others. While the rest were prettily folded, this one had a texture much more rough- as if it had been crushed and then straightened again. And on it, in extremely feathery ink, was written,

Dear ____,

You are the sun and the stars and the rose and the beautiful sky. You are made of the serenity of heaven and the tempting evil of hell. You are everything created to be beautiful, and you also make anything beautiful by association. Every day and every night, in light, in darkness, in life, and even now in death, you make me realize why Orpheus would go to the deadly underworld just to get Eurydice back. I understand his pain and longing.

I know we parted ways hurtfully and there is no action I regret more. And in my attempt to tell myself I hated you, I failed in my life's purpose- to truly let you know how much I loved you.

This is a memoir of the love I lost, a love that was but a bubble in air- shining briefly with all the most beautiful colours, then popping abruptly. And this is just an attempt at preserving some of that wonder and beauty so that when my heart aches a bit too much, I can cry to the essence of your soul (which is funny, because you are too much, too great, to be put into words).

Lovingly,

Yours yesterday, today, and forevermore,

Satoru Gojo.

A love story- a tragic one, was etched in the letters following. In that little white box was the history of Gojo Satoru's love for this mysterious woman to whom he had devoted his heart entirely.

And so Mary started reading…

Dear ____

Today I decided that I would start attempting to put into words my love for you. In these scraps of paper lie not the true extent of my love- that would be impossible to boil down to mere letters- but just enough for my heart to no longer feel as if it is at the brink of explosion from the pain of carrying the weight of my love for you.

The first time I saw you was when I was rushing to work. What started off as a normal day turned into an irreplaceable, unforgettable memory when I heard an angelic voice bantering with a baker.

"Jesus Antonio a damned second grader could bake better bread in their sleep- it’s not worth more than a dollar a loaf. So I ain't paying any more than that"

I felt compelled by fate to turn around and figure out who was truly the source of this wildly amusing diatribe.

Saying that my eyes were unprepared to capture the beauty I was about to witness would be an understatement. I found myself unable to move, nailed to the ground as I took in the sheer magnificence of your existence. And then I blinked. And you were gone.

I remember shaking my head wildly to see where the angel had disappeared off to, and my heart sighed in relief as I saw your unmistakable figure walk with a triumphant smirk and a loaf of bread that you surely had not paid more than a dollar for.

Today marks the second year since we've known each other. Every day since I have carried the burden of my love with utmost pleasure, because loving you is the greatest experience of my life. Nothing compares to being in love with you. But every so often when I stare at you, hoping the longing in my heart doesn't show in my eyes, I wish you were mine.

Yours forevermore,

Gojo.

Dear ___

The first time we ever talked was in the same bakery I first saw you in, although I will admit it is not as much of a coincidence as it may seem. For every day since I saw you, I wandered around the bakery, hoping to catch a glimpse of your hair again.

First I would wander around the area, walking up and down the road multiple times.

Then I started to stick to the stores right next to the bakery. I bought so many snow globes that I really didn't need, not to mention all those picture frames…

Finally, picking up the courage to meet you, I walked into the bakery. I waited around a bit, but eventually it became clear that you were not making an appearance. Dejected, I decided to get something anyway. I had come to the bakery after all.

"Excuse me, how much for kikufuku" I'd asked

"That's be $3 good sir"

It was as I pulled the notes from my wallet that I heard a familiar voice shrieking,

"ANTONIO HOW DARE YOU RIP OFF THIS GOOD MAN?"

To this day it might be my favourite statement of all time.

I turned around to meet your eyes. All was a blur and before I knew it I had a loaf of bread in my hand along with two of the three dollars I was about to hand in.

"..hello?"

I blinked myself back to reality as I saw you waving your palm good naturedly in front of my face.

"Oh h-hi…"

I saw you giggle, probably at the sight of my extremely flustered face. I could feel the heat absorbing all common sense from my brain.

"What's your name, sir?"

"Sato- Gojo…Gojo Satoru…" I breathed out, "and you?"

"____"

I don't think you will ever realize how much that day changed me. And that's okay. I don't want you to feel the anguish I do. I just want you to keep smiling and giggling as you love to. Oh, and chewing off Antonio's ears, of course.

Yours forevermore,

Gojo.

Dear ___

I know we're just friends, but sometimes when you show up at my door with a bag of sweets that you just happened to remember were my favourite, I wonder if there is something deeper; if there is any possibility that you could feel what I feel. And when you hand me the bag, I wonder if I was just imagining the way your touch lingered as our fingers grazed, if I was just imagining your gaze momentarily resting on mine with the same intensity with which I look and think of you.

I know we're just friends, but then why is it that every moment we spend apart from each other feels like my heart is getting ripped out piece by piece? And I know that you would never experience the anguish I do, but then as we spend hours and hours on the telephone talking and laughing about anything and everything, I can't help but wonder if you would do this just for a friend. I again let myself hope that maybe, maybe you felt at least a fraction of the deep devotion I felt for you. But I would never, ever mention it. For the thought of losing what we have now, of losing the ability to experience heaven even in such simple ways, brings me fear that gnaws at my heart and soul. So I hide my worries and my wishes as I keep listening to the sound of your voice through the telephone.

I know we're just friends but do friends have such deep understanding of each other to the point where your wish is nothing but my instinct?

I know we're just friends but are the lives of friends so deeply intertwined in each other that when you lie next to them you can't sense where you end and they begin? When you can't remember if you're in your house or theirs for that is how much time you spend in each other's lives. At what point of spending every day together does my life turn into yours. ____  I don't know how I can go on living without telling you how much you mean to me.

I know we're just friends, but sometimes I feel the line blurring away when we're drunk and unstable and tangled in each other, both of us holding the other for support. And as we messily fall onto the floor, giggling at our pathetic state, I take the moment to cradle you in my arms. In your drunken frenzy you place the softest of kisses on my cheek, only to fall asleep on my shoulder immediately after. When I'm staring at you longingly I can't help but wonder, what are we? What is this love, this gentleness, this warmth? Is this friendship? Is friendship supposed to be so overwhelming? The weight of these questions momentarily crush me, but it all fades away as I stare at your beautiful being, peacefully snoring on my shoulder. And in that moment, all my worries take the backseat, and all I care about is protecting this peace of yours. Whether I do that as a lover or a friend is not a matter to me.

Yours forevermore,

Gojo.

This might be the last time I speak of my love for you, for today you told me that you love me too. So I no longer have to express it in secret, but I can let you know wholeheartedly.

I will never forget the way your head rested against my shoulder, nose-deep in your book. And as I failed to look away from you, I didn’t realize that you had turned to look at me too. I will never forget the way your hand rested on my shoulder as you pulled yourself up to look me in the eye, while I sat there stupidly, mesmerized by the way you moved, so gentle, so light, so ethereal.

Most importantly, I will never forget the way you cupped my face, the subtlest of tears shining in your eyes, and told me, breath hitching at every note,

"Satoru I don't know what I'm feeling. I know I shouldn't be feeling this but I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if you do either. It would kill me to ruin our friendship but this anguish is killing me too and so I'm going to kiss you now and if you don’t like it feel free to punch me"

You leaned forward, and just before you kissed me you stole a glance at my face. And that was when I let go of all the restraints I had placed on my heart.

It was something in the way that our eyes locked;  the brilliant world built on the lies of our hearts crumbling as I cried on your lips in prayer. Maybe this was sin, but the tears I drank were proof that underneath all the chaos hid something real, and it was hidden for no reason but the fact that the world my god created was also made of the same kind of sin as her touch, unprepared to accept the beauty of it all. Damn the preachers, look at her face. Will not the angels sing in her name? If God hated sin so, why did he give her the same beauty as that of his mountains and oceans and the moon? We all are born of sin and sinners at the hour of our death, but I alone had the privilege of being absolved by sin.

I love you, ___. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Yours forevermore,

Satoru.

Dear ___

I know I said I wouldn’t write more of these since I don’t need to hide my love for you any longer but it turns out I'm incapable of stopping my expression of devotion towards you. I love you in ways that I want to etch down. I want to world to know how much I love you. Even after we're dead and gone, I want these words to stay there forever, because that is the nature of my love for you. Permanent. Everlasting.

I love the way your pretty little hands smooth over my tensed shoulders when I've had a long day. Your chest against my back, your hands enveloping me from behind, the way you whisper into my ear has me wishing for nothing more than the moment to last forever. I love you.

I love the way you kiss me. I love the way you cup my cheeks like a child before kissing them. I love the way you kiss my forehead, the way you kiss my nose, the way you kiss my upper lip, my chin, my shoulder, my eyes. Every bit of proof that an angel like you could ever love me has me in awe, in reverence of how simple it is for you to have me wrapped around your little finger. I love you.

I love the soft little touches that are so characteristic of the way you love. I love the way you fix my messy hair. I love the way you pull me closer during cold breezes, claiming it is to keep me warm. And I stand there in adoration of how cute you look as you hide yourself in the crook of my jacket. And I embrace you in my warmth as if I could never let you go. I love the way you absent mindedly play with my fingers. I love the way you link your arms with mine. I love the way you lean in close to wipe something from the corners of my mouth. I love all of it I love you.

I love it when you're so happy that you do a little dance. I love it when you're so nervous about sneaking away from an important meeting with your family members and running to me that you keep spacing out a little, making that really cute zoned out face of yours. I even love your beautiful diamond tears, even if I hate what it is that made you cry, when you're frustrated with all that your mother and father want from you. I love you I love you I love you.

I love you so much, ___. I can only hope that I remind you of it enough.

Love,

Satoru

"Mama that paper is pretty crumplyy- Mama are you ok?"

Dear ___

No.

It can't be.

I keep telling myself it can't be but your words cling to my skin, the cacophony of which psychedelically revolve around my soul.

It can't be It can't be It can't be

“'toru… we can’t do this anymore. It’s over. I'm getting married.”

 “Married? You’re joking, right? Did your parents finally find some guy who fits their impossibly high standards?”

 “This isn’t a joke, toru, They have found someone. He’s a good match. Someone stable, responsible. I’ve… agreed to it.”

“Wait… you agreed to it? So you’re just… going along with it? After everything we’ve been through? After us?”

“Please don’t make this harder than it already is. My family expects me to marry someone who can provide stability, someone they can rely on. You and I… we were just… a dream.”

“A dream? That’s what this was to you? A dream? And you’re just going to… throw it away?”

“Yes I mean… toru, look at you. You live life as if you’re still a kid, as if nothing really matters. You laugh everything off, even the serious things, and that’s— That’s not what I need! I need someone who can give me certainty. Someone who can give me a future.”

“Certainty? Is that all I am to you, just some silly guy who can’t give you a future? Because I would have. I would have done anything to make it work, and you know it.”

“No, Satoru, you wouldn’t have, You’d have tried for a while, but eventually, you’d get restless. That’s who you are—you go wherever you feel like going, with no thought for consequences, no… no sense of commitment. And I can’t live like that.”

“You don’t know that! You’re deciding all this for both of us. You’re… you’re running away, choosing some path that someone else picked out for you. How is that the stability you want? It’s just… it’s just giving up.”

“No, it’s not giving up! You don’t understand. This isn’t just about you or me. It’s about family, tradition… things that are bigger than both of us. You’re acting like a child who thinks love is all that matters. Well, it’s not. Not in my world.”

 “I see. So you’d rather marry a stranger than even give us a chance? Than let me try to be what you need?”

“Gojo… I love you. But love isn’t enough to change everything. I wish it were. But it’s not.”

“Maybe you don’t love me as much as you think, then.”

“Don’t… don’t say that, I’ll never stop loving you, but I need to let you go. And you…You need to let me go, too. It’ll be easier that way.”

“Easier? You’re not making anything easier, trust me. I’ll never forget you. I’ll always wonder what we could’ve been… but you’re right, aren’t you? I’m just too silly, too carefree to matter.”

Naoya Zenin. The heir of one of the biggest families in the nation. Rich, powerful, handsome. Perfect. He was perfect it seemed. And so were you.

But the anger in my heart doesn’t still. Maybe because I don’t want to accept the truth- that I truly was never enough for you.

Because I know that you are not that perfect. Because it was your imperfection that I fell in love with. And the imperfect you casted the imperfect me away because you were imperfect in a way that everyone loved and I was imperfect in a way no one could bear to see. You were imperfect in a way that could be fixed by getting you married (as your wretched family never failed to mention) while I was…unfixable.

Broken.

We were both broken shards, and in our interweaved misery I deluded myself into believing we came from the same piece of glass. When you bled on me I drank your suffering, living through my burning throat just to hold you up. But you were always meant to be great, and I was not. And I told myself that I made you, breathed you into creation. That you were nothing without me. That the time I spent crafting your wings made me something, as if you had not discarded them as soon as you could. Your apathy was cruelty, your fame a testimony to the different seas of being that we are. And as I hung from the broken bridge I built, you flourished.

But in those fluttering moments when our eyes meet, those intense seconds where two frail souls reach out their hands in memory of what once used to be, of what once was the truth, I see that broken woman again. It makes me realize that you were a gorgeous vase dropped on accident, while I was a pair of rose tinted glasses broken in frustration. You were crafted to be beautiful, temporarily set back by fate, while I would forever just be a memory of the lies we tell ourselves.

But a broken vase can never be put back together, and someday, the world would know that your greatness was just a house of cards; fated to be toppled over by the dying breath of the frail strands that tied our hearts together.

Yours,

Satoru.

Dear ___,

I was so sure I understood, so sure that I was the one who’d been wronged. All I saw was you walking away, slipping through my fingers, and it burned—I let it fill me with anger, as if I was the only one hurt by it all. I couldn’t see past my own pain to realize you were scared. You weren’t breaking up with me because you didn’t care, but because you were… trapped.

The Saddest of stories are always of the happiest of people; the ones whose heart lit up at the sight of the world. But the world was too cruel to some of them, and love is never enough to carry one through the ugliness of this world we live in. And soon enough comes a time when looking at a glass of water causes heartache, and every light is so blinding that it physically pains you to get out of bed, and when all that lingers is the feeling of cold numbness inside. By then love is all forgotten, holding no meaning. No amount of care or happiness can fix the damage caused by the seemingly harmless boredom. Boredom then turns to dissatisfaction, and dissatisfaction turns to hopelessness, and through all of this there are those who can put up the façade of a healthy life.

We never see them- or at least see them as they truly are. Sad, Bored, a little dead on the inside. It's not like they seem to be happy or cheerful either- just nothing out of the ordinary. But the ordinary deceives the mind, and we leave out those little moments when their face breaks and the tears slip and the bandaid falls of- not because the wound has healed, but because it has bled too much. And also because it is not the kind of wound that a bandaid can fix. But they ignore this, and keep sticking bandaids (sometimes loosely attaching the same one over) in hopes that it will one day work the way they expect. But this only causes the wound to turn toxic, until it turns numb. And you think this means it has healed, but it is only when it is slightly brushed against, and the unbearable pain jolts throughout, that you realize that its just gotten worse in silence.

I didn’t even think to ask if you were okay. I thought you were just cold, maybe even heartless, telling me you needed someone more stable, someone responsible. But now, I see that you were pleading for something I didn’t understand. You needed help, someone to see through what you couldn’t say. You needed someone who’d ask why you said those things, why you looked so… afraid. And I missed it. I didn’t stop to question why you had this sadness behind your words, this weight pressing on you. I was too focused on being right, on feeling betrayed, to see what was right in front of me.

I convinced myself that you just wanted a different life, something that didn’t involve me, when really, you were… struggling. I should have seen that the way you talked about him, about your 'future,' was hollow. I should have noticed how you’d say the word 'marriage' like it was a sentence, not a choice. And instead of asking you, instead of listening—I let myself believe you were leaving me for someone else, that you’d never loved me the way I loved you. I made it about me, when all you needed was someone who could see what you couldn’t say out loud.

And now, here I am, replaying every word, every conversation, and wondering why I didn’t ask the right questions, why I didn’t push just a little harder to know what was really going on. I was supposed to be the one who loved you. But instead of standing by you, instead of seeing your fear, I just… got angry. I made you feel like you were wrong for leaving me, when in reality, you were just trying to survive. You were terrified, and I was too wrapped up in my own feelings to realize you needed me.

So now I’m left here with nothing but regrets, wishing I had seen the truth, wishing I’d known enough to tell you I’d help, that you weren’t alone. And now… now it’s too late. And I’ll never forgive myself for that

If only you knew that I would have been there for you. When he hurt your body and your heart and mind, I would have been there. If I had known, an angel like you would not have suffered more than a mere second in the house of a tyrant. If I had known, you would be laughing in my arms instead of crying on his floor. If I had known, maybe you would still be here with me.

Naoya Zenin.

That monster. I always hated him, but I thought… I thought it was jealousy. Just me being petty. But now I see him, in my mind—the way he looked at her, the way he… possessed you, like you were some damn object. He never saw you, not the way you really were. No. To him, you were just something he could cage, something to crush under his control.

How could he do it? How could he look you in the eyes and destroy you? How could he even live with himself? You loved life; you loved people, loved him, once—God, that makes it worse. He didn’t deserve a second of your love. He didn’t even deserve to be in the same room as you, and yet he was the one… he was the one who had you, day after day. His hands, that sick, twisted mind—you suffered because of him. And he’ll never pay enough for what he’s done. No punishment, no hell is deep enough for him.

I should have seen it. All those times I got frustrated with you, thinking you were pulling away, that you were lying to me. But you weren't lying, were you? You were hiding it, hiding the pain… because you knew I wouldn’t understand. I’d always get so mad, so impatient, thinking you were just… playing games, trying to hurt me. But you weren't. You were crying for help, and I just walked away, time after time. I thought I was so… righteous, so hurt. I thought I deserved the truth, that I had the right to be angry.

But I didn’t see your pain, did I? I never stopped to look closer, to ask you if you were really okay. I didn’t see how you’d flinch when he’d call, how you’d go silent, like you were somewhere far away. You were in hell, and all I cared about was my own heart. I was supposed to protect you, and instead, I pushed you back into his arms. I let you go back to him, and now… now you're gone."

And there’s nothing I can do to bring you back. Nothing I can do to make up for the times I failed you, for not listening, for not… seeing. It’s too late. I lost you forever. And it’s my fault.

I'm sorry, love.

Yours forevermore,

Satoru.

Dear ___

Today I watched you buried. I couldn’t see your face, as I maintained my distance, not trusting myself to be able to bear to be next to the ones who allowed you to be hurt. Moreover, I refuse to believe that you are gone. You're in my heart, and you always will be.

But as the day descended into night, and the yard was empty for miles, I dared to come close.

And I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

I don't know when the hot tears started falling, mind blank as my knees thumped against the cold hard ground. And suddenly, all the agony clutched at my throat till I couldn't breathe, and I sobbed. I sobbed and bawled till I couldn’t feel my breath anymore. I needed the pain out of me but I didn't know how and in a vain attempt to ease the pain I punched and punched the ground as if it would cause you to come back to life again. As if it was the fault of the earth for taking you away from me. I cried hideously and clawed monstrously at the ground, but nothing changed. I rested my head on the grass in exhaustion, and thumped my head against the ground in anger as the tears kept falling. But even as I choked on the soil, nothing changed. I was still alone except for the company of the solitude taking pity on my pathetic state. I could feel the nothingness embrace me, comforting me, for I was truly alone in the world now, and I could feel it to my core.

And although my heart is numb and even as the bruises on my fingers from punching the floor bleed onto the page, I cannot stop myself from writing. I write and write and write because these letters are the only thing keeping you alive and I'm afraid if I stop then you will truly be gone and that can't be it can't be it can't.

 Because no matter where you are, my heart still beats for you. And despite the pain that follows the realization that yours no longer beats at all, I want to live forever. I want this simple heart of mine to thrum in your honor until the end of time. So that I can keep the feeling of being in love with you. So that I can, just for a moment, remember that I had the honour of being in love with you. Because nothing compares to being in love with you.

Yours yesterday, today, and forevermore,

Satoru.

a/n: hope you enjoyed. ive never written for jjk before and although ive watched the show and am familiar w the manga idk if this is ooc im sry. i have wanted to write for jjk for a while now tho so i am glad i did. i love angst if you couldnt tell btw.

[bouncybongfairy]

Opposites Attract

Rodrick Heffley x Fem Reader

Summary: One Friday after school, you are trying to practice for an important audition coming up. As you start, you suddenly hear an obnoxiously loud drumming coming from next door. After arguing back and forth for a while, it becomes clear that neither of you is budging. You desperately need this rehearsal time and ask him what it will take to get the peace and quiet you need. He tells you he'll stop if you let him take you on a date tomorrow to the Drive-In tomorrow night.

Word Count: 2k+

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were sitting in the last period, trying to get some homework done. It was Friday and you could tell everyone was itching for the weekend to start. Once you noticed that you only had 5 minutes until the bell rang, you started packing your bag up. Unlike most students, you had to stay after school and rehearse for your 1st chair violin position on Monday. You grabbed a tissue and cleaned your glasses, watching the clock as time dragged by. Once the bell rang, you stayed seated until most of your peers exited. You would just be waiting as kinds shoved their way through the small opening. After the doorway was less crowded you made your way to the E-wing where the music room was located. You were close with your orchestra teacher and she would let you stay after class in order to get a little practice in. It was nice to have the entire room to yourself, you took your violin out of the case and started tuning. After you had rosined your bow, you started practicing when you heard an off-rhythm drumming. At first, you were trying to ignore it, unfortunately, you would find yourself focusing on the drumming while counting rests. Eventually, you couldn’t take it so you packed your violin up and tried to find where the music was coming from. 

You went into the theater and saw someone banging away at a drum set that was placed in the middle of the stage. You immediately recognized the drummer as Rodrick Heffley. He had certainly made a reputation for himself this year, getting caught spray painting the side of the school; doing donuts in the parking lot, and of course, you knew he smoked. He was sweating and his shaggy hair was sticking to his forehead. His eyebrows were furrowed because of how much he was exerting himself. He was really lanky but his arms were toned, mostly likely due to how much he plays. He was wearing an Arctic Monkeys t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black skinny jeans. His backpack, which was covered in buttons and pins, was sitting next to the drum kit. He reached down to pull a water bottle and took a drink. His head was tilted up and a couple of water droplets were running down his throat. You walked passed the aisle of seats and approached him, when he noticed you he immediately paused. 

“I’m really trying to practice and I can barely hear myself think over your banging,” you said crossing your arms. 

“Well, what do you want me to do about that? I’m trying to practice too, you know,” he said. 

“I have an audition this Monday and I really need to be 100% focused during this practice,” you explained. 

“I have a gig next Friday and also need some quiet time,” he said. 

“If I give you 10 bucks will you please let me practice?” you proposed.

“Actually I have a better idea, what if we went out tomorrow night? We can go see the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie at the Drive-In,” he said. 

“Really? Do you even know my name?” you huffed. 

“Y/N. I would ask you if you know mine but I’m pretty sure you do,” he said, smirking at you.

“Well then, can I give you my number?” you asked. 

“Sure can,” he said. You climbed up on stage and grabbed a pen out of your jacket pocket. You grabbed his hand and wrote your number on his hand. 

He thanked you and then you quickly made your way back to the music room. You continued on with practicing but were now preoccupied with thinking about what you just agreed to. Not having much experience with dating, you felt a little nervous. Rodrick seemed so confident with talking to girls, that was part of the reason you liked him. You just didn’t want to come off as naive or clueless. Eventually, you come to the conclusion that you can no longer focus on the music and have your mom come to pick you up. The entire car ride and even once you got home you couldn’t get your mind off him. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive. He just had that bad-boy vibrato that only certain guys have. Not to mention you two completely and utterly fit the trope of the sweet girl with the bad boy stereotype. Most of your friends, especially the ones that you took orchestra with, always talked down on metal or angsty music. You, on the other hand, felt differently. Music that isn’t your taste isn’t bad music and most people your age couldn’t seem to grasp that. All your friends saw him as a grimy skater boy but what was wrong with that? You even asked them why they would be ashamed to be like the guys their famous idols pretend to be. Getting tired of the anxiety thinking about tomorrow was causing you to wash up and head to bed. 

The next day you start getting ready around 6:30 pm. You were sitting on the floor of your bedroom, in front of a mirror that was propped against the wall. Separating your hair into layers you slowly began flat ironing. You had gotten a text from Rodrick that said he was going to pick you up around 8. Although you still had some anxiety, you were really excited. This was going to be your first date and the fact that it was with someone you were so attracted to made it that much. It took you 10 minutes to get your left lash to stick but you were finally done with your make-up. You changed into a jean skirt, a black v-neck, and a white sweater. By the time you were fully done, he texted you that he was on the way. You practically jumped out of your skin when you read it. You felt like your blood was running hot and cold at the same time. Your mom gave you 20 dollars and a kiss on the cheek before she left. When you walked outside your house, the first thing you noticed was his van. It also smelt like his cologne but not in an overwhelming way. You knew he had a band but you didn’t realize it was named Loaded Diper. Practically skipping down the driveway you climb into the front seat. The first thing you noticed was the A.C. being on blast, you were also surprised by how clean everything was. 

“Hey,” you greeted him. 

“Hi, you look really pretty,” he said, which made you blush. 

“Thanks, so are you excited to see the new TMNT movie? I heard it got really good reviews,” you said. 

“For sure, I’ve been looking forward to it for a while,” he said. 

You drove in comfortable silence up until you got to the Drive-In. You offered to pay but he ignored you and your pleas. Once he found a spot in the back, the two of you made your way to the snack bar. It was a vintage 60’s theme which you thought was cool. There were records hung on the call, all the booths were cherry red and the floor had a checkered pattern. As you waited in line, Rodrick put his arms around your shoulder which made your stomach flip. You were surprised by how much he ordered. Seriously, you hoped he wasn’t expecting help. You helped him carry everything back: nachos, popcorn, fresh chocolate chip cookies, two slurpees, and two hotdogs. When he parked, he turned the van around so that the back doors were facing the screen. He opened the doors and you were actually surprised by how much effort he put into it. There was a thick layer of blankets stacked on the floor of the van. Several pillows lined up against the driver and passenger seats. A small battery-powered lantern was hung from the center of the ceiling. There were stickers all over the interior of the car which made you smile. It looked so cute and cozy. You slipped your shoes off and climbed into the back with him. You were nervous, to the point where your teeth were chattering a little. The trailers that played before the movie were still running; he had already eaten half his nachos. 

“Where do you put all that?” you joked. 

“We’ll never know,” he said. 

“Are you nervous?” he asked, pointing to your legs that were shaking a bit. 

“A little, I’ve never been on a date before,” you admitted, taking a sip from your Slurpee. 

“Since we’re sharing secrets, you’re the first girl that actually said yes when I asked. Even then you only did it to rehearse,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. 

“After I gave you my number, I only practiced for like 15 minutes because it was all I could think about,” you said. 

“Really?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

“What is so unbelievable?” you asked. 

“I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t think I was your type,” he confessed. 

“That’s fair, we don’t necessarily run with the same crowd. I have to admit though, usually all the guys I’m around are scared to get a bit of dirt under their fingernails. It’s not like I seek trouble but I really like you, your style, taste in music, and demeanor you know?” you said. 

He was blushing really hard, looking down so that his hair covered his eyes. You could still see his smirk though, it made you feel giddy knowing you had this effect on him. He pulled a pen out of his pocket, at first you questioned whether he should be smoking when he had to drive home. He reassured you that he had a high tolerance and that the effects would wear off by the time the movie ended. You were really nervous, especially because you’d never smoked before. He took a couple of hits to show you how to properly inhale. He also reassured you that if you didn’t want to or didn’t want him to smoke then it was okay. This warmed your heart, knowing that he didn’t want you to feel pressured. You grabbed his hand, feeling too insecure to hold it yourself. You took a big hit and then coughed it out, the smoke burning your throat. He laughed as you took a huge drink of your Slurpee to help the stinging sensation. After taking one or two more hits, you could feel it kicking in. You couldn’t stop giggling which was amusing to Rodrick.

“Now I understand how you can eat all this food,” you said while taking a big bite of a hotdog. 

“Your eyes are so red,” he laughed. 

“Really?” you asked, grabbing your phone and looking at your appearance. 

“Can we take a selfie together?” you asked, he nodded his head yes. 

You scooted closer to him and took a selfie with your back camera with flash. When you showed Rodrick he was impressed with how well they came out. After that, he started talking to you about what his plans were for his band. You were surprised with how far ahead he had thought into the future; you know, about what type of label he wanted to be signed to and merch that he wanted to design. You told him about how you wanted to make movie scores and he thought it was really cool. It was now completely dark and the movie was starting. You covered your legs with the blanket and turned to face Rodrick. He had just taken a hit and blew the small hit into your face. You playfully inhaled which made him laugh, you then kissed his cheek. He turns and smiles at you before giving you a quick peck on the lips. After you cuddle up to him, resting your head on his shoulder, and start enjoying the movie. o

[starbandit]

Skyline (K.N.J)

Requested- Namjoon ceo! Au with age gap with reader being a one night stand. Maybe a little toxic! Namjoon? Honestly as fic with namjoon ceo vibes

contains- ceo!namjoon, age gap, tipsy sex, oral (f!receiving), making out, semi-public sex, light degradation, dirty talk, slight hair pulling, unprotected sex, praise 18+ MDI!!!

word count - 2.4k/unedited

You couldn’t help but groan as you watched your boss leave his office. He had a stack of papers in his hand and you just knew they were about to be thrown onto your desk with some crazy demand. 

“Hello, sir.” You greeted with a fake smile on your face. “How are you?” 

You watched as he plopped the papers on your desk with a loud thud. “Well, I’ve been better, Y/N.” He stated with a sour look on his face. “I need these scanned in, organized, emailed, and filed all by….” He looked at the expensive watch decorating his wrist. “Five thirty p.m.” 

You looked at the time on your computer. It was already three, there was no way in hell you would finish all of that in two hours. You tried to hide the expression on your face. “Of course, I’ll do my best.” You nodded at him. 

“Great, I’d do it myself-” You knew that was a damn lie. “But I’m meeting up with some friends for drinks tonight so I need to leave early.” He flashed a smile at you. “Have a good night, Y/N.” 

“You too, Mr. Kim.” You let your expression drop as he turned around. You watched as he got onto the elevator and disappeared from sight before you let out a loud groan, letting your head hit your desk. “I’m never getting out of here.” 

“Sir, I got those reports done last night, and here is the coffee you wanted.” You set a quick pace behind Namjoon. He grabbed the coffee from your hand, trading it for yet another stack of papers. 

“Great, I need you to take notes in this morning's meetings.” He stated, rounding a corner. “I’m trying to land a deal with a company overseas, so make a good impression.” He stopped in front of the meeting room. “Sit quietly.” 

You nodded and followed behind him, waving as he introduced you to the room. You took your seat in the corner of the room and got ready to take your notes. 

You let your thoughts wander as you walked down the street, getting ready to collect the lunch that you had called in for the executives. You had accepted the job as a stepping stone into the company, hoping to put your degree to good use. But it had been well over a year since you graduated and began working for ‘Mr. Kim’ and you were still stuck running errands. Unfortunately, the pay was too good for you to even consider getting another job, and… maybe you had a small crush on your boss. 

You returned to the office with the bags of food and prepared the spread in an empty meeting room. The executives were expected to return any minute, so you wasted no time in setting it up. 

“Ah, Y/N, thank you so much for doing this.” You quickly turned as soon as you heard your boss speak up from behind you. 

“Absolutely no problem, Mr. Kim. I hope you all enjoy the food.” You painted on a kind smile and headed for the door, hoping to shove some food in your own mouth before Namjoon asked for some other ridiculous request. 

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. You were sent out a few more times to gather drinks and snacks, and said goodbye to the executives from your desk as Namjoon showed them the way out. You continued to type up your reports and tidy the office as Namjoon did some work in his office. 

“Y/N, can you meet me in my office?” Namjoons voice came from over the speakers in the meeting room. You rolled your eyes. Here comes the request. Pick up my dry cleaning,Y/N. Go pick up this random imported cheese from across town, Y/N. You silently trudged across the office before painting a fake smile on and knocking on the glass door. “Come in!” 

“You wanted to see me, sir?” You stepped in. 

“Y/N, yes, take a seat.” He motioned to the chair in front of his desk. You slid into the chair and waited. “I just wanted to express my gratitude for everything you do.”

Your heart fluttered at the praise. “Oh! Well, thank you. I uh… I always wanna try my best for you and the company.” You stared into his eyes. His expression softened slightly as he smiled. 

“I’m really happy to hear that.” He chuckled. “I would uh… like to treat you to a drink tonight, just as a thank you.” 

“Oh!” You nodded. “Okay, yeah, that… that sounds great!” You instantly regretted accepting the offer. He wasn’t a horrible person by any means, but were you really about to spend your evening with the person that made you want to rip your hair out? Shit, there was no backing out now. 

“Great!” He pushed out of his chair. “Go ahead and collect your things and we can head out.” He began picking up his items and packing them away in his bag. 

Oh this was happening now, like right now. You quickly stood to collect your stuff. One drink and then you could leave. That’s all you had to do. It would be easy enough. Right? 

“So, tell me about yourself.” Your boss set the glasses down on the table of the bar. “What happens in the life of Y/N outside of work?” 

You muttered a small thank you to him and took a sip. “Well, sir,” 

“Just call me Namjoon.” He interrupted. “We’re not in the office, this is casual.” 

“Namjoon,” You corrected. “I can almost promise my life isn’t that interesting. No big trips or anything, I work, eat, and sleep.” You were a little embarrassed to not have much to say about your life. 

Namjoon hummed and took a sip of his beer. He had taken off his tie and suit jacket, and loosened the top few buttons of his shirt. His hair was now gently tousled instead of gelled down, the black and gray locks falling onto his forehead. He looked… soft. Less like a CEO and more like a husband. You tried to shake off the weird feeling it was giving you. 

The two of you fell into a nice conversation. You learned about his life. How he had been married in college, how she fell pregnant, how the baby wasn’t his. He gave you the details of the divorce and how he built up his career. Thrown in between stories were compliments and comments about how your blushy cheeks looked cute in the dim bar lighting. 

You finished up your third drink, body feeling fuzzy and warm. You and Namjoon headed out of the bar, you holding onto his arm with drunken giggles coming out of your mouth. You can’t exactly remember what happened, or when, but you found yourself pressed against the wall of the bar in the alley, with Namjoon holding your face as the two of you feverishly made out. 

“God, I’ve been wanting this for so long,” He moaned against your lips. “Take everything in me to not take you at work in those tight skirts.” His hand met the flesh of your ass from under your skirt. He kneaded the skin, sucking marks into your neck as he felt your body. 

“You should have.” You teased back. Your hands trailed up his chest, toned muscle flexing under you hands, and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him back in for another kiss. “I’d let you take me right in this alley, Mr. Kim.” 

“I’ll give you an even better offer.” He pulled you closer. “Why don’t we go fuck where all of Seoul can see us?” 

Your legs went weak. Was he suggesting what you thought he was? You quickly nodded without another word and let him grab you by the wrist. Namjoon dragged you down the street and back to the office building. 

Once in the elevator, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Namjoon had picked you up and pressed you against the wall, hands gripping and kneading your ass. You two messily made out, tongues twisting against each other, teeth clashing. Your hands slid from his shoulders to his biceps, squeezing the hard muscle under his shirt. 

Namjoon didn’t even allow you to walk to his office, instead opting to carry you while you sucked red and purple marks into the tan skin of his neck. He slid the remaining objects on his desk to the floor and sat you on top of the wood. 

You had never looked out his office window at night before. You could see almost all of Seoul, lights twinkled for as far as the eye could see. It was gorgeous. Namjoon had settled between your legs while you stared out of the window. 

“Shit,” You gasped as his breath hit your thighs. Soft kisses trailed up the skin, stopping at where your skirt had ridden up. Your skin prickled at the feeling. 

“I can stop.” He rested a warm hand on your thigh. His fingers traced shapes on the exposed skin. “We can stop, no hard feelings.” 

You took a deep breath. Fucking your boss probably wasn’t the smartest decision you had ever made. But… he was hot. Fuck it, you nodded your head. “Please, I want you.” You buried your hands into his hair. “Keep going.” 

He smirked and pushed your skirt up the rest of the way, bunching the fabric up at your waist. You sat exposed for a moment while he stared. “What a slutty choice of panties for the office.” He commented before running a finger over the, now soaked, lace. He continued to slid his finger around over your slit, collecting juices and teasing. He pulled his finger away and popped it into his mouth, humming as he licked it clean. 

After that, he wasted no time. Namjoon slid your panties to the side and got to work, eating you out like you were his last meal. A shaky gasp left your lips as you threw your head back, a loud moan ripping its way from your stomach. 

His warm tongue danced around your folds, licking around all the sensitive areas until he finally landed on your clit. He switched between fast motions and sucking, getting you close enough to teeter on the edge of an orgasm. You couldn’t believe how fast you had gotten to the edge. 

“F-Fuck,” You whimpered as he slid his tongue into your entrance. “Fuck, Namjoon!” Your hands gripped his hair tight, pulling him in closer as you began to fall over the edge. “I-I’m, shit.” You couldn’t find the words to form a sentence. 

The heat in your belly exploded as your muscles tensed up. Your hips twitched up as your pussy clenched rapidly around his tongue. Wetness dripped from your pussy down your thighs and ass, coating the wood of the desk. 

Namjoon pulled away, lips bright pink and glistening. He looked up at you with hooded eyes and bit his lip. “Wanna keep going?” He stood up, now towering over you. 

You nodded enthusiastically and pulled him down for another kiss as he undid his slacks. The pants dropped to the floor with a thud, his belt buckle hitting the hardwood floor. By the time you pulled away, his underwear and pants were long gone, kicked somewhere in the shadows of his office. 

Your jaw nearly fell to the floor when you looked down. Namjoon was rock hard, tip red and leaking, but the size is what got you. It was nearly as long as your forearm, and you weren’t even sure if you could wrap a hand around him. “There is no way that will fit inside of me.” You mumbled. 

Namjoon chuckled. “Let's try.” He began to tease your entrance with his tip. He watched your face as he pushed in, stopping at the first sign of discomfort. He waited patiently for you to give him the sign to continue on. 

He was filling you up so good. So deep. Touching and massaging places you never knew even existed. You groaned as he slowly began to move, hitting the perfect angle. You pulled Namjoon down and wrapped your arms around him. Your fingertips dug into his clothed back. His muscles tensed under your hands as he thrusted, the desk creaking under every movement. 

“I knew you could take it, such a good girl.” Namjoon grunted. “Such a whore, letting me fuck you on my desk.” He pulled back to run a hand through your hair before tugging on it. “Who owns this pussy? Hm?” 

You let out a loud whine. “You, you do, sir.” 

A smirk painted Namjoons face. He mumbled out a quick praise and picked up the pace, absolutely assaulting your pussy. You weren’t sure if you would be able to walk right tomorrow. 

“Shit, you feel so good.” He groaned. You whimpered in response and gripped him harder, holding onto your boss as if he was the only thing keeping you grounded. Like if you let go of him the ocean waves would pick you up and drag you away. 

You could feel the waves building up in your lower tummy. The heat grew between your legs and through your belly. A slew of curse words left your mouth as the heat exploded, your fingertips dug into the firm muscle of Namjoons back.

Namjoon let out a groan as your pussy pulsed around his cock. The friction from that alone was enough to push him over the edge and he bottomed out before spilling inside of you. His cock throbbed deep inside of you as he came, hot seed coating your insides. 

You sat for a moment, both attempting to catch your breath before he pulled out. When he finally did, a hiss left your mouth from the sudden emptiness and the feeling of cum dripping out of your pussy and down your ass. The fluid dripped down and pooled on the desk. 

Namjoon had made quick work of getting redressed. By the time you had gathered yourself enough to pull on your underwear, he was fully clothed and standing by the door. He watched as you got yourself dressed and attempted to fix your hair. 

“Y/N, would you like to see the view from my penthouse now?”

[mossypidder]

So I was wanting to dye my hair pink midwinter so it’d fade my spring, I’ve been meaning to make another skull mask, it was supposed to snow the third week of January and somehow Technoblade always seemed to end up in the snow. Therefore. Things happened. I was only intending to take photos of it, but then I heard this song and my brain just went MMMM THIS SCENE AND THIS SCENE AND THIS SCENE AND- so I made a short. Or at least it was intended to be a short, but for some reason, YouTube won’t upload good audio, which is annoying, because tumblr doesn’t like high res imaging. Regardless, I’m really, really happy with this. Also here’s the slightly shortened youtube version if anyone’s interested.

Here’s the concept art for the costume beside what it actually turned out as. Material list below cut.

Mask: foam core which is a staple, but I tried duck masking tape instead of regular scotch tape in hopes the paint wouldn’t peal off it’s held up so much better thus far. Tusks and teeth are cosclay. Then acrylic paint and I don’t remember what the clear coat is called.

Crown: also foam core, but I did use scotch tape for it. Not as happy with it because there are a lot of creases, but I was too lazy to try and find a different medium. Painted with an oil based gold paint which actually covered very well and I barely used any of it.

Actual Mouth Tusks: also cosclay with acrylic paint for the white and the same oil based gold for the tusk cap thing.

Cloak: red fleece that I weathered with acrylic paint (and painted myself and the kitchen floor in the process), and long pile fleece for the hood lining. The buttons are cosclay that I, again, painted with the same gold. And the chains I just bought in bulk off amazon cuz I’ll probably use it again.

Corset Belt: some random faux leather I had leftover from a former project, and the laces are just ribbon.

Sword: a friend made it for me forever ago, and it’s just been lying around.

Shirt: a random find from Goodwill that I about shrieked at when I found.

Pants: I can’t remember where I got them, I’ve had them for a while, they’re just high waisted corduroy.

I really wanted glasses, but I couldn’t find the ones was planning to use. Which is obnoxious. Because Techno deserves to see. But it’s not supposed to snow again for a while, so unfortunately, no glasses.

Also, this is the first time I’ve wished I had long hair since I cut it off almost three years ago because aesthetically it would have been really nice, but I’m less hung up on that than I am the glasses lol

[the1975attheirverybest]

Secret Admirer

A/N: day one of @abiiors valentines week prompt which you can check out here.

This is a mini-series of 7 short stories based on the prompts. They capture 7 significant moments over the span of Matty and Jo’s relationship. From first meeting to happily ever after. Day 1 is their first meeting.

Warnings: none. Except maybe typos

***

Matty watched as she threw herself down next to him, causing the whole couch to shift dramatically in her wake. “Oh,” she mumbled self-consciously when he bent down to pick up his light off the floor, “s-sorry.”

He’d uttered something in response and then offered her the joint off his lips.

She giggled. “N-no, I’m all good thanks.”

Matty realized that it was probably bad form to offer a stranger a little puff of your blunt after you’ve smoked most of it and pulled out a fresh one. “Here. I don’t usually just give them away like that, but….you look like you might need it.”

She hesitated, briefly, not one to accept random offerings from strangers at parties, but he looked non-threatening enough. And he was right. She did need it. “Thanks.”

“I’m Matty, by the way.” He flicked the lighter on for her.

She nodded. “Jo.”

“You’re, erm, Charli’s friend. Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Sick.”

From across the room, George gestured for Matty to stop the smoking, but Matty stared him dead in the eyes and shook his head.

“Oh- heads up. My idiot friend is coming over to yell at us.” He warned as George stomped over.

“Matty, this is not that kind of party. Put that away.” George glanced over at Jo, “hey Jo. Have you been corrupted by him, too?”

Her eyebrows raised, “how do you know I wasn’t the one who enticed him”

George cackled. “Cuz I know you,” shooting Matty a look, “and I know him… cmon, mate, not on the new couch. Charli would kill us both.”

Matty groaned, “fine, we’ll go outside. This party is fuckin boring, anyway. Where do you keep the good wine?”

George pointed to the drinks table.

“No, not that. The really good stuff. I’ve not yet figured out where everything goes in this new house.”

“Wine cellar’s in the basement.”

Matty gathered his belongings, getting off the couch. “You comin,’ Jo?”

***

“So, how did you say you know the newly weds? Sorry, I think I’m slightly drunk.” Matty giggled, re-filling her drink and then his own.

“Sold Charli a few prints one day. Then she hired me for her music video. And then one thing led to another. You know how it is. You’re in the band, right?”

“Mhm….prints, like, photography? I paint a bit myself, you know.”

Jo giggled into her wine glass, almost choking on it. “I’m sure you do…”

“I do! I promise. I’m not shit at it either! Why…are you laughing?”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just….I’ve met guys who look like you. They can all paint or whatever.”

Matty blushed, turning away from her in an attempt to hide his face, he fiddled with the half empty cigarette packet. “What’s that mean? ‘Guys who look like me.’?”

“Oh, you know. The hair and the leather jacket and calling house warming parties boring cuz they don’t have loud music and drugs.”

It was Matty’s turn to laugh now. He took a swig of his drink. “Mhm, mhm…go on, what else?”

“Well, you’re a bit of a wine snob. You stole this bottle from your best friends basement. I’d judge you for it but you’ve got good taste. You’re the front man of the band though so you likely have an attention issue…oh and you probably brag about how much blow you can do ‘without it ever affecting you’ or whatever. Yeah, I know guys like you. You’re charming. Until you’re not. That’s when things get sour.” Jo heard the slight edge in her own voice and knew that she’d betrayed herself. She looked up at the moonlit sky, slightly out of breath.

“Ha! Jokes on you. My drug of choice was always heroin. Well, not anymore, unfortunately. Cuz, well, it definitely affected me. Landed me in rehab even. So I don’t do it anymore but yeah. Cocaine’s fine though. I liked that too. Sometimes.”

“Oh god! I’m so sorry, Matty!” She panicked. “I- I didn’t mean to- I just- fuck. I’m such an idiot. You’re so brave-“

Matty laughed, loudly, placing a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. “It’s fine. I don’t mind at all. Besides, you were too accurate to apologize.” He smiled as he looked directly into her eyes and she caught herself noticing his handsome he is.

“Though it did sound like your assessment wasn’t entirely observational. Some of it came from experience.” He giggled.

“Yeah. We broke up not too long ago.” She whispered under her breath, picking her glass back up. “He was also in a band and all that stuff.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I must be really triggering to you, right now. We can’t have that, can we?” Matty proceeded to take off his jacket, tossing it aside. He then ruffled his hair. “There? Is that better? Did he wear any cologne? Do you have any perfume in your purse I can borrow?”

She giggled, “you’re crazy! It’s February! You’ll freeze to death! Stop that!!!”

Matty shrugged. “It’s a small price to pay for individuality.”

“No, no. It’s fine. His band wasn’t even really as successful as the 1975. You can put your jacket back on now. Please. I can’t afford the lawsuit if you die.”

***

“It’s getting late.” Jo announced, standing up and pulling at her dress. “I- should- umm…but I had a nice time, tonight. Thanks for getting me banned from Charli’s couch. It was fun.”

Matty stood up with her, inching closer and towering over her. “The pleasure was all mine, Jo.” He flashed her a pearlescent smile, and something about the way that her name rolled off his tongue made her want to melt into him.

Gently, Matty’s hand cupped her face, checking, for a moment, to see if she’d back away from him. When she didn’t, he leaned in, kissing her. It was soft and smooth. Like silk. Sweet with a bit of spice. And left its taste on both of their tongues, like cinnamon.

She held on to his jacket, her forehead resting against his chin, a shy smile on her face. “Matty, that- was….nice. But-“

“Oh there’s a ‘but.’”

“Not like that. I liked it. I really did. I think it was a good idea. You kissing me. I want you to do it again, but I just think…I wanna remind you. I haven’t been single for too long. I’m not looking for anything- like, serious, or whatever-“

Matty interrupted her by kissing her again, delighting in the way that the surprise made her giggle into his mouth.

***

“Hello, gorgeous.” Matty said as soon as he opened the door to Jo standing in front of him. Pizza box in one hand, a bouquet of roses in the other.

“Hi, Matty.” She leaned her cheek towards him. He responded by kissing it and moving to let her in.

“Netflix is cued up. Have a seat. Hot chocolate’s almost ready.” He walked into the kitchen. “You must be cold.” He spoke as he pulled two mugs out of the cupboard and rummaged around for marshmallows. “Blankets by the tv.”

“Is it…weird that I got those flowers?” She followed him into the kitchen. “I know that it’s only like our fifth date or whatever. But….valentines day is in two days. And I love roses. They don’t really mean anything I just passed by the florist on my way and I-“

“I love roses.” Matty said, turning around to look at her. “In fact, why don’t we find a vase to put them in?”

***

Jo peered out of the window to check for a car but there was none at her door. The peep hole showed nobody at the door either. Hesitantly, she cracked the door slightly opened and looked around. It took her a moment to look down and notice the basket of red roses at her doorstep. With a smile on her lips, she picked it up, noting the small card propped delicately between flowers

To: Jo ♥️

From: your secret admirer

From the distance, she heard a very faint “no! No! Waittttr!!!”

Setting the card back, she looked up to see Matty rushing towards her with three more baskets full of roses in his arms.

“It- I knocked too early, didn’t I! I couldn’t get them all out of the car fast enough. It’s ruined! It was meant to be a joke cuz…. Well, it says ‘secret admirer,’ but like it’s me so it’s not really a secret cuz I’m right here.” He giggled at his own words as he approached her, setting the baskets down to kiss her.

“What? Are those all the roses that the store had?” She laughed.

“Well, yeah.” Matty nodded. “Sorry, are they not enough? I knew it. I should’ve gone-“

“What?? Not enough? Matty, I was joking! Are they actually all the roses from one store? You bought out their entire rose supply? On Valentine’s Day?”

“You said you liked roses, so…” Matty replied as if it was the most obvious course of action, rendering her speechless.

He smiled. “Jo- uhh…Joanne?”

“Josephine actually.”

“Really? What a pretty name! Anyway, yes….erm…Josephine, will you please be my valentine?”

[cboffshore]

Situation: it is fall, which means it is almost December, which means it is time to begin my annual installment of my Nya Being A Gotdamb Menace To Nadakhan During Skybound series. (not the actual name, but that's the gist of it.) I am currently in the outline/sandbox writing phase.

Problem: based on the timeline I'm working with and some of the themes I want to mess with, 95% of this installment has to occur in that bridal suite Nya's stuck in during episode 63. based on key points in my outline, this means I need to nail down a solid floor plan, because unfortunately I write fic the same way I used to stage manage, so I must have tabs on all my actors or I literally cannot work.

Solution: rewatch episode 63, which has prolonged shots of the suite.

New problem: upon examining a bunch of screenshots, it appears that this suite is some kind of TARDIS or perhaps an Escher painting, because I can't wrap my head around the layout.

New solution: show you all example screenshots and notes to either get someone to help or just make sure all of us are mad together.

(I would tuck this under a cut to make this more convenient, but I had to try and parse this, and as my followers I insist you all join me, because maybe someone will help me get an answer.Apologies for the potato quality, by the way - I had to Discord myself my notated shots from my phone.)

The first thing hindering me is that Dogshank's big fuckin helmet blocks most of what would otherwise be decent shots of the room. This also includes all shots of the biggest mystery to me: whatever the fuck is happening with the pillars and canopy in the middle. I think there's a better shot of it in 64 that still doesn't clear up what this thing is, besides the fact that it's not a bed or anything actually useful.

Also, somehow, we never get a clear shot of the walls. Like, ever. But in the corners that aren't full of the 'shank, we do get some info about windows!

net info gained: we have two walls of windows and some kind of pointless canopy taking up fifty percent of the floor. also, lots of hexagons.

At the very least, I need info on the windows for Plot Reasons, and boy howdy do I get it! Except it sucks! Pay attention to the notes about the temple shape/weird duplication happening if you want to, but here's my biggest gripe (and I know this is probably because of them reusing the temple assets without thinking too hard about how they designed the interior, but if it's present I feel like I have to work around it): THOSE BARS DO NOT MATCH. That is a DIFFERENT window entirely.

Oh, and speaking of the bars: the only thing consistent between the two shots is perhaps the DUMBEST thing wrong with these windows. Can't see it? That's because it's not even there. Look:

You know that Bionicle movie where the one guy goes "haha makes glass?" That was NOT a sentiment the builders here took to heart. (One plus of this situation: I can make this a plot point. I think. I mean, clearly the Hagemans did it just fine. Tune in in December to find out!)

net info gained: it's probably freezing up there.

Anyway, onto the next issue: unless this conversation takes place at a third wall of windows that I somehow missed (not likely as they're VERY TALL AND OBVIOUS), then this door is either decorative, or it moved, and either way it should open onto dead air. I mean, it doesn't given that Nadakhan waltzes in and leaves with Nya with no incident, but based on the long-distance shot of the mismatched windows... I'm reading too much into this, huh?

Anyway, corporate needs you to find the difference between these two pictures:

net info gained: this is one of the following: some kind of suicide door that keeps moving around to keep Nya trapped inside, me being an idiot, or just really bad foresight on the animator's part.

Also, this isn't part of the suite, but I wanted to include it anyway because... well, why not?

net info gained: Nadakhan's got something against functional windows, I guess. Either this was boarded up to accommodate the giant ceremony space on the ground floor or he's got, like, a darkroom in there where he's got a bunch of cronies trying to replicate that antique photo of Delara, because once again: haha no glass!

JUST WALL.

Anyway: rant over. Send help. I'm giving up and DIYing a floor plan that has somewhere between 1 and 4 walls of windows and furniture that's not just potted plants and weird little side tables.

[anryuuepic]

Whumptober Short: Venom

Ismone watches, vaguely disgusted, as her sister adds a few drops of something dark red and sparkling to the little vial kept on a chain around her neck. Sasanvi holds the vial up to the light to peer through the crystal-clear glass, hums ponderingly, and shakes it until the colors inside blend to whatever shade she’s looking for.

“Partying again?” Ismone asks, even though the answer is obvious. If Sasanvi is refilling that... substance, she intends to use it soon.

“Yep~ Gonna go have a wild night,” Sasanvi replies in a chipper, sing-song tone that grates at Ismone’s ears. Her sharp little grin flaunts the burgundy paint on her lips; gaudy, tasteless, done for the sole purpose of attracting attention.

“I hope you’re careful with whichever unfortunate soul gets... that in their cup tonight.” Ismone gives a pointed glare at the vial. 

Sasanvi rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on. You know I can handle myself just fine.”

“Surely, you understand why I’m worried. If you harass someone with enough status to throw a fit about it, it could become an issue for the rest of us.”

At that, Sasanvi smirks. 

“That’s exactly why I use this stuff, little sister,” she says, looping her slender, long-nailed fingers through the delicate chain around her neck. “A couple of drops, and it’d be a miracle if they even remember my scale color by morning.” 

Logically, Ismone doesn’t doubt that Sasanvi knows what she’s doing. Her sister’s had a taste for such eccentric thrills for as long as any of them can remember, and she’s no pushover, besides. Sasanvi is cunning, cool-headed, and smarter than any stranger would give her credit for. Worrying so much is irrational, Ismone knows that— but the idea of some drugged-out fool clinging to her sister’s arm is revolting. Wrong.

Taking the silence as a cue to keep talking, Sasanvi continues— “Hey, maybe you’d wanna come with me, if it bothers you so much? You could keep an eye on me that way, y’know? It’d be good for you to get out, too, instead of spending all day cooped up in here. If you have some fun, maybe you’ll loosen up~”

“That’s disgusting,” Ismone spits back. “I refuse. I’m not interested in spending time with whatever riff-raff wanders in through the door— I have standards.” 

Sasanvi just laughs. “Suit yourself~ Butt out of my business though, mmkay? I know you’re worried sick about your precious big sis, but the hovering isn’t cute. I’ll do your hair or something when I get back, if that’ll make it up to you.”

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Sasanvi goes back to adjusting her jewelry. Despite the furious chill forming at her fingertips, Ismone leaves her to it.

[btschooseafic]

Scared of Love (in a coffee shop)

Pairing: ot7, ot6 x jungkook

Details: jungkook centric, a/b/o dynamics, coffee shop au, soulmates au

Summary: Jungkook struggles with the idea that the pack are his Fated Mates.

Warnings: implied mpreg (not jk), attempted assault

Masterlist

It had been several days since Jungkook went to work. In fact, he’d barely left the apartment. He hadn’t showered, or eaten much either.

When he heard his doorbell ring, he was scared it was one of them. But looking through the peephole he saw a different familiar face.

“I heard what happened,” Jiwoo said, when he let her in. “I just don’t understand what the problem is. Do you not want to mate them?” Jungkook shrugged jerkily.

“The idea of Fated Mates just… it just isn’t for me.”

“What do you mean?” Jiwoo prompted, sitting down at his table. Jungkook got her a glass and poured her some water for something to do. His whole body felt twitchy with excess energy. He should clean—Why had he let Jiwoo into his apartment without cleaning first? There were empty ramyeon containers on the counter and dirty clothes strewn everywhere.

Jiwoo gave him a pointed look. She was waiting for an answer.

“The idea that people are meant to be together, I just… I don’t believe in that kind of thing.”

“Well, you don’t have to be with them like that,” Jiwoo said. “Sure, it’s unusual to reject your Fated Mate, but not totally unheard of. And the pack are good people, they wouldn’t hold it against you if you don’t have romantic feelings for them.”

“It’s not that… I mean, I like them a lot, and I could totally see myself falling for them,” he admitted. “I just don’t want to be Fated Mates.”

“Well, unfortunately, that isn’t something we can choose for ourselves.” Jiwoo sipped at her water.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “We don’t have to talk about this. You’re friends with them too. I don’t want to make it awkward for you.”

“Too late,” she said bluntly. He winced. “But, that’s okay. I like all of you very much, but you’re the one having a rough time right now, so I want to support you in any way I can.”

“You’ve already helped me so much,” he thought. “You’ve been my friend, and you helped me find this job in the first place.” He grimaced. “And now I might lose it, since I’m not showing up to work.”

“Well, I think the pack would understand a few days absence, but, would you even be comfortable working there still?”

“…I don’t know,” he admitted.

Jiwoo took another sip of water. The kitchen was quiet for a moment and then took a deep breath. “If you really don’t know, there’s another place I know of that might take you on.”

He blinked at her. “For real?” He sniffed his shirt. “Ah, maybe I should shower first.”

The train ride was quiet. Jiwoo played a shooting game on her phone, Jungkook watching over her shoulder, occasionally pointing out zombies sneaking up behind her avatar.

They got off the train and walked a few blocks.

She brought him to a store front. The windows were clean and the door was done in a fresh coat of blue paint.

Neon above the door dubbed the place as Blue Parrot Tattoos. “This is my potential mate’s place,” she explained. “One of the pack that’s courting me is a tattoo artist. A couple of years ago she opened her own parlor.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Wow.” He couldn’t imagine the freedom that came with being your own boss, but it probably required a lot of hard work as well.

The inside was just as clean, with a girl chewing bubblegum sitting in front of an old wooden desk. She brightened as soon as she saw Jiwoo.

“Jiwoo-yah! As happy as I am to see you, please tell me I didn’t forget we had a date today!”

Jiwoo giggled like Jungkook had never heard her before.

“No, unnie, we didn’t have plans. I came here as a surprise today. I wanted to introduce Chaeyeon-unnie to my friend Jungkookie. Is that okay? Is unnie very busy today?”

“I don’t think so… just one appointment earlier and one later…” The girl at the desk clicked through her computer and then smiled. “Yeah, she should have a good chunk of time free right now. Go right through.”

“Thanks so much, unnie!” Jiwoo walked over to kiss her cheek. Jiwoo’s unnie flushed slightly. Jungkook grinned, they seemed to be getting along well.

Chaeyeon was a woman with short blue hair. She didn’t look too much older than Jungkook and Jiwoo. She was sitting at a desk sketching, frowning.

“She looks upset,” Jungkook whispered to Jiwoo. “Maybe we should come back another time.”

“Nonsense,” Jiwoo said. “That’s just what her face looks like when she’s concentrating—unnie!” Chaeyeon startled and turned.

“Jiwoo! I wasn’t expecting you today. What a pleasant surprise!”

Jiwoo smiled shyly. “I’m happy to see you as well unnie, but I didn’t come just to hang out. I wanted to introduce my friend Jungkookie to you. You were saying you could use an assistant, and Jungkookie does tattoos as well.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jungkook said, bowing quickly. Chaeyeon inclined her head. Jiwoo elbowed him.

“Show her!”

“Oh, ah, if you don’t mind.” Jungkook handed over a worn folder.

“This is great,” Chaeyeon said, flipping through the portfolio Jiwoo insisted Jungkook bring with him.

“It’s a little outdated,” Jungkook admitted shyly.

“He has a sleeve as well, that he did himself,” Jiwoo added.

“May I see?” Chaeyeon asked. Jungkook nodded, rolling up his sweater sleeve. Chaeyeon made an appreciative noise. “Do you have any previous experience tattooing?” Jungkook shook his head.

“These were my first attempts.”

“You’re a natural, then,” Chaeyeon said. Jungkook flushed.

For the next fifteen minutes, Jungkook and Chaeyeon discussed what Chaeyeon needed from an assistant. Jungkook thought it sounded very reasonable.

Then Chaeyeon had to prepare for her next client, so they said goodbye.

Jiwoo insisted on treating Jungkook to lunch afterwards. They slurped up noodles, making fun of each other splattering sauce.

“I’m glad it seems to be working out, but you should know, I also suggested this place for Jimin-oppa to get his next tattoo, so you might see him around,” Jiwoo said.

Jungkook remembered Taehyung saying Jungkook’s art would look pretty on Jimin’s skin. He felt something flutter in his stomach. Was he really excited at the prospect of doing a tattoo for Jimin? He couldn’t be so conflicted about the pack if he wanted to permanently mark Jimin like that.

He hadn’t gotten to know Jimin well, but he wanted to. Truth be told, he missed them all.

But still, he couldn’t imagine just going back to work like nothing happened. Would working at Blue Parrot Tattoos be better? But would the Kim Pack even want to see him outside of work, especially after he left them like that?

When he got home he did what he always did when he was uncertain, he called Junghyun. Junghyun listened silently to the whole story.

‘I want to meet them,’ Junghyun said when Jungkook was finished. ‘I have something I’d like to tell them about.’

Jungkook carefully started preparing for his family’s visit. He scrubbed down everything, did a load of laundry, and bought Seoyeon’s favorite snacks. He spent the most time building the best nest he could.

He was perfectly willing to leave the bed to Junghyun and Seoyeon while he slept on the couch, but he had a feeling Junghyun and Seoyeon would insist he join them.

It wouldn’t be the first time the three of them shared a nest, but it had been a while.

When they arrived, they greeted him with a group hug. Jungkook felt like crying. He hadn’t realized, until now, how little physical affection he got. He remembered with great clarity the last hug he’d gotten from Hoseok and Namjoon. It had felt so good, but now, holding his brother close, Jungkook realized he wanted more. He wanted to be able to smell them as he hugged them, to bury his nose in the crooks of their necks and take in the sweetness of their happiness.

“Samchon!” Seoyeon beamed up at him. “Look.” She pointed at her mouth, lisping a little. “I lost another tooth!”

Jungkook laughed. “Wow! Good job!”

“The tooth fairy left me this.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pink bear keychain. “I want you to have it.”

“What?” Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“Cause appa says you’re sad. So maybe this’ll cheer you up.”

“Thank you, baby.” Jungkook took it from her, kissing her forehead. “I feel better already.” He really did.

Jungkook cooked dinner, a recipe Seokjin had shown him. The ingredients were cheap and the end result was both tasty and filling. Everyone had seconds. Jungkook could imagine Seokjin cooking for them, blushing severely when they showered him in compliments.

The three of them spent the rest of the night cuddling in the nest, watching videos of baby animals on Jungkook’s phone.

“We’ve got to get you a new one,” Jungkook thought, glancing at Junghyun’s cracked screen. He kept his voice low. Seoyeon had just drifted off. Junghyun waved his hand.

“We don’t have to worry about that right now. Especially if you’re not sure about where you want to work.”

“I really liked Blue Parrot,” Jungkook said. “It was a nice space, and Chaeyeon-ssi was so accepting of my lack of experience. But I can’t just leave the cafe. I have to talk to them…” He bit his lip. “You said you wanted to talk to them too?” Junghyun nodded. “Can we go together?”

“Of course. We’ll go together.” Junghyun smiled, rubbing his back like he did when they were younger. Between that and Chaeyeon’s soft snores, Jungkook could feel sleep settling over him.

“Wait.” He yawned. “I have to let them know first. I haven’t responded to any of their calls or texts, I can’t just show up out of the blue.”

After thinking it over, he decided on texting Namjoon. Leaving work without notice hadn’t been professional, so he should approach them seriously. Contacting the Pack Leader would show his earnestness. Besides, email somehow felt less intimidating than texting or calling.

‘Dear Kim Pack Leader,

I’m sorry I haven’t responded to any of your pack’s texts or calls. I’m sorry I haven’t shown up for work. That was horribly unprofessional. I understand if you want to fire me, but before that I would really like to explain the reason behind my actions to your pack. Could we set up a time to meet in person?

Thank you,

Jungkook.’

“What do you think?” He asked, showing his phone to Junghyun. Junghyun’s eyes skimmed the screen. His nose wrinkled.

“Are you sure you want to sound so stiff with them? Aren’t they your friends?”

“…They were. I’m just not sure where we stand now. I mean, my feelings would be hurt if someone avoided me the way I’ve been avoiding them.”

Junghyun shook his head. “They don’t have the whole story. But, if they can’t forgive you for something like this, you aren’t meant to be friends, much less mates.”

“Hyung!” Jungkook flushed and shoved him.

“Don’t jostle Seoyeon!” Junghyun warned him in strained whisper. Jungkook slapped his hand over his mouth. Their eyes met. They laughed quietly.

Jungkook woke up and glanced at his phone. It was three in the morning. He groaned. He was sweaty, Junghyun clinging to him on one side, Seoyeon half on top of him on the other side. He wriggled out from underneath them and went to the bathroom. On the way back, he checked his phone again. He was surprised to see an email notification from Namjoon.

Jungkook,

I’m so glad to hear from you! I know you wouldn’t leave work without good reason, although that is not my main concern.

How are you? I admit we were worried when you didn’t respond to any of our attempts to contact you. I wondered if we were overzealous. I sincerely apologize if my pack has done anything to offend you.

We would love to meet in person. Just say when and where.

Yours,

Namjoon

Jungkook’s heart thumped. Yours. Was he really? Did Jungkook want him to be?

Namjoon,

To be honest, I’ve mostly been confused recently. But my brother and niece have come to visit, so I’m feeling better already. I’m sorry again for avoiding you. I don’t think you were overzealous, I just couldn’t bring myself to respond. I’m sorry.

You haven’t done anything to offend me. It isn’t your fault.

Would it be possible to meet this Thursday?

Jungkook racked his mind for a meeting place and finally decided on an ice cream place that wasn’t too far from a playground he had been meaning to take Seoyeon when she visited next.

P.S. My brother and niece would like to join us, if that’s okay with you.

[sarahjswift]

Lovebite - IWHAIWSA Chapter 3

Heyyyy here's another chapter for you! It's currently Thursday but I think this should be posted on Friday. The day you are seeing this is my last day of school and I'm very excited!

I hope you all are enjoying this series! I'm very proud of myself because these chapters are longer and I have a couple already written and ready to post. I also am keeping up Twin Wounds, so I'm just doing it all XD

Next week is the start of my summer vacation, but it shouldn't affect the upload schedule too much, but there's always that warning.

Thank you all for your support <3

Warnings: Language, Light Smut

Word Count: 1.7k

Tag List <3: @backtobl4ck, @aelinchocolatelover, @renxzs, @blue-bird17, and @autumnbabylon! Thanks for your support <33333

enjoyyyyy!!! :D

__

“You made out with a stranger who is Eve’s best friends’ dad?” Lysandra gasped with delight. 

Aelin glared at her reflection as if it were Lysandra’s face, forcefully massaging her face with sunscreen. “We didn’t make out. It was one kiss.” 

“One very hot kiss, it seems,” her friend giggled. “I mean, he seems amazing. Do you have pics?”

“Uhm, yes,” Aelin confessed. “He sent me a selfie and I may or may not have downloaded it to my phone.” 

“Oh my Gods!” Aelin winced as her friend’s squeal filled the air - loud and proud, even on speakerphone. “Please tell me it was, like, a shirtless selfie. Or no, no, a mirror shot! No - both!” 

“It was a selfie with him and his kids,” Aelin said matter-of-factly. She dotted concealer under her eyes and surveyed herself in the mirror, checking for any blemishes, and-

“Oh my fucking Gods.” 

“What? What is it?” Lysandra squawked, but Aelin was too busy gaping in horror at the purple spot on her neck. 

“I have a damn hickey!” Aelin wailed, then clamped a hand to her mouth. Eve was watching Spongebob, but you could never be too sure with her. 

“Holy shit, this just keeps getting better and better!”

“Not if you’re living it!” Aelin protested, frantically dabbing concealer onto the very obvious love bite on her neck. 

“Can I see? Send a photo!” 

“Uh, no. It’s, like…very obvious.”

“Gods, how much did he kiss you?”

“I have no idea,” Aelin sighed. Luckily, the mark was covered. She sprayed setting spray onto her neck and prayed that her concealer would stick. 

↜↝

Rowan woke up in the morning with two screaming children, a messy kitchen, and a happy heart. 

He replayed the kiss over and over again in his mind, painting it golden. Even when Lilly knocked over her glass of OJ, he just smiled and wiped it up with a wet paper towel. 

The kids wanted to go to the pool and as they reached it, Rowan found himself searching the room for a certain mother. Unfortunately Aelin wasn’t there, and Rowan settled himself into a pool chair with a sigh, watching his children splash around in the shallow end. 

Rowan: Hey

Aelin: Hello good sir

Aelin: how are you 

Rowan: Good, the kids are at the pool today. 

He hesitated before deciding to go for it. 

Rowan: Wish you were here though. 

Aelin: *typing*

Aelin: 💗

__

“Can we hang out with Eve today, Dad? Please?” 

Rowan looked at his children, pleading up at him. Hold your ground, he thought. Hold it, hold it, hold-

“I’ll text her mom.” 

An hour later, Rowan was smiling faintly to himself as Aelin and Eve descended across the parking lot to the playground. Eve ran toward Henri and Lilly and the three immediately skipped to the playground, giggling. Rowan took a deep breath as Aelin walked up to him, reminding himself to calm down. 

She looked amazing as usual in a simple white crop top and a vibrant, flowing green skirt. Stylish sunglasses rested on her head and her golden hair was tucked into a braid. Her top and skirt proudly displayed her muscled shoulders, arms and legs and he enjoyed the view  - of those and other beautiful parts of her - before snapping his eyes up to her. 

“Hello,” she said, a serpine’s smile curving on her lips. She walked up close to him and placed a warm hand on his arm, the only thing separating their skin the thin fabric of his T-shirt. 

“Hey.” Rowan’s voice was lower than usual, and he had eyes only for Aelin as she leaned in to whisper something in his ear. His eyes closed briefly as he felt her hot breath on his skin, wanting it everywhere- 

“You may or may not have given me a hickey.”

With a start, Rowan broke from his reveries and whipped his head around to gape at Aelin. Her eyes were dancing and her grin stretched wider as she tapped a finger against her neck. “I guess you were kissing me a bit too hard.”

“I-Gods, Aelin, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” Her clear laughter rang through the air, making Rowan smile. He couldn’t help it. “It’s funny. I did have a bit of a panic attack this morning, though. That’s why we didn’t go to the pool.” 

Rowan laughed. “What did Eve have to say about that?”

She shrugged. “She was great - we went on a little trail. What about you guys?”

“The pool and now this, after they begged all morning. It’s honestly adorable how much the kids love Eve already.” 

Aelin beamed, and he knew as a parent she was proud. “I’m afraid I’m just as bad about a certain father.”

↜↝

Rowan was so handsome she couldn’t stand it, and the urges to grab his hand, touch his shoulder, just to be near him, overcame Aelin as their families went to get Hawaiian Ice. The way he was with his kids did nothing but melt her heart, and Eve’s obvious adoration of the Whitethorn kids was the cherry on top. 

Soon the sun was setting, and they walked through the resort admiring the beautiful dusk sky. The children were skipping ahead of Rowan and Aelin while they hung back, talking softly, when Eve rounded and walked back to her mother. 

“Mommy, Lilly and Henri said that we could come over and have a sleepover!” she squeaked, excitement lit up in her blue-gold eyes. Her face was flushed and strands of her hair were poking up from her head. She looked insane, and Aelin had never loved anything more. 

“Did they really? Well unfortunately it’s not up to them,” Aelin reminded her daughter gently, praying this wouldn’t get awkward. To her dismay, Eve’s face crumpled and she slumped, practically dragging her feet as she walked back over to her friends. The two parents watched as her daughter informed the other kids of the incident and they immediately whirled around, protest lining their faces. 

“Please, Dad? C’mon, we want Eve to sleep over!” Lilly cried, hanging onto Rowan’s hand. Henri grabbed his other and looked up at his father pleadingly. 

Aelin cringed and turned to her companion, opening her mouth to apologize, when he said; “If Aelin is okay with it, I’m happy to have them over.” 

The children stared at him for a second and then erupted, cheering. They were so busy celebrating they didn’t notice the word change; them - but Aelin did. 

“Them?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. Rowan looked sheepish and he shrugged. 

“I mean, why not? You could…sleep over.”

__

I have no self-control, she thought to herself as she carried Eve’s sheets and pillows into Rowan’s room. Apparently they were all having a joint sleepover - the kids would sleep in Lilly’s room, and Aelin - well, Aelin didn’t know where she would sleep yet. That hadn’t been decided. 

After Aelin and Eve brought their stuff over to the room, they settled down at the dinner table for a dinner of steaming pasta. Aelin was pleasantly surprised at Rowan’s cooking skill, and she said as much.

“Thanks,” he said, biting down a smile. “I’m sure you are too.”

At his words, Eve let out a laugh. Aelin flushed as her daughter exclaimed; “Mommy is a terrible cook! She once tried to make brownies for my school bake sale an’ they were goopy an’ my friend Marianne got food poisoning! Daddy always did all the cooking-”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Aelin interrupted her daughter before she could ruin her chances forever. As she glanced toward Rowan, she found his amused expression frozen, his eyes like chips of ice. She felt herself frown - what had set him off?

__

At nine the kids disappeared into Lilly’s room to “sleep”, leaving the parents to clean up dinner. Aelin watched Rowan stand at the sink, his powerful arms on display as he scrubbed their plates dry. She couldn’t help imagining that they were a family, he was her husband, and they -

Stop. She scrubbed her face, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming her. There’s no point in imagining anything. It’s done. She sighed and collapsed on their couch, surveying the room. Their hotel space was an exact copy to theirs, so she didn’t feel too bad as she made herself at home. 

“Can I ask you something?” Rowan asked, and Aelin turned to find him leaning against the kitchen counter, watching her with an expression she couldn’t place. At her nod, he took a deep breath. “Is…where is Eve’s dad?” 

Oh. Shit. 

His words were light, but Aelin could tell her response would be important to her. She took a deep breath. “He’s..he’s in the picture.” 

Rowan’s shoulders slumped, and his eyes looked agonized for a half-second before a wall snapped up behind them. “Oh. Alright.” 

“N-not like that,” she blurted - she’d do anything to get him smiling again. “I meant, uhm, well…he has Eve every other week. B-but…we’re divorced. We have been for a year.” 

Rowan’s face melted into a smile she could tell he was trying to tamp down. “Oh. Alright.” Aelin laughed as he repeated his exact words from earlier. At her laughter, Rowan chuckled too, crossing the room to sit next to her on the couch. His weight brought the cushion down, and she slid toward him ever so slightly, close enough she could smell his pine-and-snow scent. 

His eyes darted around the room, checking if the coast was clear, before leaning closer to her. Her breaths came quicker, and she closed her eyes as he brought his hand to cup her neck, rubbing his thumb over the exact spot her lovebite was. She felt him lean in and kiss her jaw, loosing a breath as his other hand stroked her hair. Aelin watched him, heavy lidded, as he kissed his way down to her collarbone, lower. 

“Kiss me,” she breathed. He drew in a sharp breath and obliged her, lips pressing gently against hers. It was a soft kiss, not urgent and sharp like earlier, and she leaned into him, letting his heat envelop her as he hugged her. 

She thought, as she gently made out with this man, she hadn’t felt this safe in years. 

[indigo-a-creeping]

Finished my character sheets and bits of setting stuff for this year's Nanowrimo, but I'm holding off on practice writing prompts until October so I don't burn out on it before November. It'll be good, though.

I'd like to turn last year's project into a podcast, but I haven't done much on that front. I'd need to reformat it and practice voices and think more about music and sounds.

I'd like to self-publish lots of other old writing of mine for Kindle because it's free and easy, but I'd need to edit and reformat a bit.

I want to learn how to use my sewing machine. It's sitting there waiting.

I also want to teach myself embroidery. My MC of this year's writing project uses embroidery as magic, so that is something I want to start before November as well.

I have a ton of other craft projects sitting around.

I've thought about painting murals on my house since I bought it, and never got to it. Just turning the whole thing into a stained glass look would be cool. I can get all the free paint I want at the hazardous waste disposal site in town.

I'm writing my third D20 fanfic, and I have another few ideas written down for when I'm done with that. I want to rewatch some of the seasons.

In non-creative news I recently drove halfway across the country for a single day that included a few hours at camp, which was 1000% worth it despite the terrible drive back home. It was loads of fun, and I hope the staff didn't mind that I kind of inserted myself into every bit of the campfire (the kids certainly didn't mind). Personally, I always thought it was unfortunate that the alumni weren't more involved in what was going on when they came. I'll gladly do it again next year. I am in love with that place in a way I'm not sure I could ever love a person.

I've been able to get back into work smoothly after my long absence. I like it there, and they love me, and I got a raise that will go into effect at the end of the month. It's a great place, though still not really... personally fulfilling. But it's good for a while.

I applied for a history teaching job just before going back to work. The interview went well, though they ultimately went with someone who had more of a history background, which is fair. I would have liked it, but I'm not heartbroken. This wasn't really the right time for me, but I'll keep looking.

I'm still planning to sell my house and move when Peri's gone (probably no more than 4 years). Not sure where I'll move. I've been looking at Michigan (or New England or Oregon or New Mexico or etc.). ...Or Canada, or some other country. Again, I fall in love with places. I'd like to be closer to people I care about too, though it's hard as they have been moving around too. And I feel like I haven't been able to make or hold onto any close connections very well. I'd also like to not be too far from camp, even if I just go back once a year. Wherever I go, I need to get out of red states. Thankfully I have time to think about that.

[florenceisfalling]

waiting for the sky to fall

the yeehaw egos au is basically a self-indulgent little scramble of ideas based off of the thought: what if the egos were modern rural texans? seeing as that is where im from :) this first little bit exists without context, there shall be more but im not sure if i'll add chapters or write separate works. but this one is 4500 or so words. the pacing is kinda weird, since i started writing it back in june and got lost somewhere between then and now.

warnings for brief mentions of drug use and alcohol, and somewhat more direct talk abt homophobia - including mentions of a shitty father who is neglectful and intolerant at best.

marvin meets chase's daughter on a sunny day.

➳➵➸➼➽

The sun is just at the point in the sky where its light encroaches on the porch’s shadow, and Marvin has to pull his toes back a little closer to the wooden rocking chair in order to avoid the heat. He hums and turns back to squint through the window screen, catching 4:33 PM on the clock in the kitchen. Eventually, the sun will dip far enough below the shingled awning for the light to hit his eyes directly, lighting up the flakes of gold that rest in his irises, and he’ll have to go inside; for now, his red sunglasses are enough to block it out. He uses one finger to prop them up a little higher til they sit on the scar across the bridge of his nose, then goes back to letting his red-painted nails dry, holding them out on the armrests of the chair and rocking softly back and forth to the sound of cicadas, barking dogs, and the lawn sprinklers.

Soon, another sound joins the chorus, though it’s one less familiar to him. Something bouncing on the concrete, a giggle as the sprinklers turn left across the yard. He opens one eye to see a little girl, quite the ragamuffin in a denim skirt and faded old pink-camo shirt, both stained with grass and dirt and other things unknown. She’s dropped a red kickball on the sidewalk. She lets it roll into the grass so she can spin in dizzy circles as the sprinkler sprays over her, drenching a mess of choppy caramel hair as she finally cools off in the Texas heat.

“Does your mama know you’re wandering by yourself?” Marvin questions from the porch, putting one sandaled foot down to stop his chair from rocking anymore.

The girl hides her startled eyes with a bright smile, a gap-toothed grin of feigned innocence. “Mama’s out of town.”

“And your dad?”

At that, the girl just starts spinning in circles once again, and chases down the sprinkler as it tries to sway rightward. Marvin sighs, takes a sip from an ice-cold glass of lemonade, then speaks again. “Well, do you have a name?”

She spins, and spins, and nearly topples over to the ground when she turns back to face him, eyes not quite focused after making herself into a clumsy little centrifuge. “Darcy Brody. What’s your name?”

“Marvin. Are you a Brody like Charles Brody?” 

Charles is not a kind man, nor a fun man, entirely unlike Darcy. Most of his interaction with Marvin consists of loathing glares and on more than one occasion a drunken exchange of joking insults - or, perhaps more accurately, insulting jokes. Other than that, the two try tirelessly to avoid each other, a hard feat for a duo three blocks away from each other in a tiny, isolating town. The task would be much more difficult if Darcy had any relation to him.

And unfortunately, Darcy nods. “Grandpa Charles was supposed to watch me, but he’s taking a nap. The house was boring by myself…”

“Well, you ought to go back inside. You’re too young to run around so close to the road,” Marvin chides, ready to close his eyes and go back to relaxing in his rocking chair.

Darcy’s gaze falls to her feet, kicking a bit at the wet grass with her clogs. “I can’t open the door.”

He hardly stifles a groan, “You locked yourself out?”

She nods. “But Dad said I go home at five.”

“Will he pick you up?”

One more nod, and Marvin mirrors the movement. “D’you know your daddy’s phone number, then?”

“I know there’s a number five in it… and that’s it.”

He hums in response, sitting up out of his rocking chair and tapping his nails to make sure they’re dried. “Alright, I’m not gonna be the one to wake your grandpa up. He hates me already… Tell you what, you wait right there, honey, don’t get any closer to the road. I’ll be right back.”

She nods, then plops down on the grass, as a promise not to stray too close to the cars. Most of her hair falls into her face over her now-closed eyes, the water sprays over her again, and she seems perfectly content to cool off right there. The pink in her shirt is starting to turn green with grass stains, but she doesn’t mind one bit.

Marvin smiles and leaves the chair to rock all alone, then slams the back of his heel against the door with his elbow holding down the handle. The warped frame sticks, but finally gives way with a quiet crack. The front room is all dramatic business, decorated with tapestries and sun-faded sheer print curtains, crystals and stained glass hanging in every window. Hints of the ugly plastic bug screens still show through, but only a little. A stacked deck of tarot cards, two empty teacups, a covered crystal ball, and an unlit candelabrum lay still on the center table, waiting for an anxious adulterer, superstitious traveler, or daring teenager to ask their advice. Marvin leaves his dusty shoes by the door. Lazily he shuffles through the beads and curtains guarding the hallway, revealing the more honest half of the building - all his personal rooms, including the hall closet he currently approaches. 

Behind the broom and dustpan, and a bundle of woven grocery bags shoved ungracefully inside each other, sits a hefty cardboard box neatly labeled “YARD SHIT” in purple permanent marker. Marvin shoves everything else out of the way and rips open the most busted flap at the top of the box, happy to see his bag of sidewalk chalk is exactly where he left it: tossed right on top of a broken pink plastic flamingo and a particularly grumpy looking garden gnome.

He grabs the bag and pumps it into the air like an athlete raising a new trophy gripped with white knuckles, then stands fully back up and swings the closet door shut. He puts his shoes back on once he reaches the front doorway. After a moment to appreciate the air conditioner, far preferable to the heat outside, he finally makes it back out to the blistering sunset. Relieved to see Darcy still splayed under the sprinkler, he grabs his glass of lemonade from beside the rocking chair and leaves the creaky porch for the cement driveway. 

Darcy leans up when she sees a tall shadow cast across her grassy resting spot, turning to curiously raise her eyebrows at Marvin.

“Here you go, Miss Brody! Brought you something to keep you busy.”

He drops the bag of chalk from the crook of his elbow, letting the contents roll out all over the concrete. As soon as the sight registers in Darcy’s eyes, she darts over to the shady side of the driveway, scooping up an orange piece of chalk and testing out the color. Marvin slowly sits criss-cross next to her, careful not to spill his drink, then picks up a green chalk. “I take it your grandpa doesn’t have much of this sort of thing?”

Darcy shakes her head, starting to sketch out the shape of a goldfish. “Nope. And the only board games he owns are about math and stuff.”

“Oh, my, not math and stuff!” Marvin exaggeratedly gasps, starting his own drawing with a looping figure eight. He briefly glances up from his handiwork to stare over at Charles’ house, making sure Darcy can be seen from the eldest Brody’s porch as well as the road. “That doesn’t sound very fun at all! But you can have this chalk when you go home, so you won’t get bored if you stay at his house again.”

“Really?” Darcy asks, scribbling some fins on her fishy drawing. 

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure your dad takes ‘em when he picks you up. I never really use these anyway.”

Despite his words, he starts to doodle more details on his picture. Another parallel line curving with the first, ending in a set of fangs, a shiny eye drawn in black. Darcy takes the black piece from beside Marvin, and uses it to draw a round bowl around her goldfish. Once satisfied, she starts to fill it with bright blue water and tiny white bubbles. “Are you drawing a snake?”

Marvin hums out a quiet, distracted “mhm.” The snake bites at its own tail, so he picks up a thin sliver of a broken red chalk to start drawing a forked tongue.

“What’s its name?”

“Ouroboros, from an Egyptian story.” It’s a simple explanation, but small children most often don’t need to understand ancient metaphors for endless cycles of creation and destruction.

Darcy’s face lights up with recognition just enough, though. “Teacher said Egypt has lots of sand, and big pyramids, too. Have you ever been there?”

The man smiles. “No, it’s a little too far away… how about your goldfish, does it have a name?”

“Oh, it’s just called Goldfish,” she solemnly states, as the topic is quite serious to her. She adds some waves to the top of the blue water. “Fish don’t need names, because they don’t talk very much.”

Marvin nods quite sagely, agreeing with her thoughts. He can’t argue with that logic.

➳➵➸➼➽

It took about twenty more minutes for Darcy’s dad to arrive, pulling in front of Charles’ house in a dented-up car with three rows of seats and far too many bumper stickers. Marvin quickly waved him over and explained the situation, while Darcy kept on coloring her fish. By 5:00 PM, she had completed many more aquatic creatures, with creative names like “Shark,” “Crab,” and “Dolphin,” and had just begun to draw a new kind of animal she invented. She titled it “Sillyfish.”

With no desire to interrupt her masterpiece, her father and Marvin struck up a conversation instead of parting ways. The newcomer to town awkwardly introduced himself as Chase, a name his mother picked as a compromise so that his father wouldn’t insist on calling him Charles Junior. Chase looks like he was from an entirely different world than the boring Charles, decked out in a colorful tie-dye shirt and yellow sneakers, a row of about 9 tangled-up friendship bracelets stacked on his wrist, a patchy baseball hat, and a smiley face pin hanging lopsided from his pocket. The only thing he has in common with his father is a pair of matching eyebags, dark and heavy under his long blonde lashes. 

“Thank you for taking care of Darcy,” he awkwardly says, glaring in the direction of the home she was supposed to be in. “I swear I’m gonna chew my dad out for at least an hour - I hope he doesn’t drive you too crazy, as your neighbor.”

Marvin waves him off, “He’s quite alright, what’s got you worried about him?”

“Oh, come on,” Chase grins. “He’s a total hardass on everybody.”

That only earns a stiff laugh, and Chase tries to coax more out of Marvin. “He used to half-jokingly say he should’ve beat me senseless because I wore… what was it… ‘too much lavender.’ Sorry for doubting his politeness towards you.”

He makes a little waving gesture with his hands, drawing attention to Marvin’s now-sparkly fingertips. 

Ah. A bit of a frown pulls at Marvin’s face, but he shrugs. “Oh, it’s not as if I’m unaccustomed to it. On the bright side, most the Puritans in town are too worried about my evil witchcraft to be primarily concerned about the…glamor.”

Chase’s gaze leaves Marvin’s sharp features to drift over the house instead - getting a proper look at the neon sign shaped like an eye in the window, the Christmas lights hung around the patio, the sprawling word PSYCHIC in bold, tacked to the roof and painted with stars. Darcy pulls his sight away by tugging on the ankle hem of his jeans, trying to show off her next drawing, but a moment and a compliment later he’s already back to staring at the charming decor. “All that magic and mojo, that’s s’pposedly real?” 

Marvin gives him a mischievous grin back. “Sure thing.”

“Oh, bull.” Chase says. “You’re shittin’ me.”

“Dad! Language!” Darcy scolds, slamming down her chalk with a scowl.

Marvin fake pouts, crossing his arms in a mockery of offense. “I would never lie to such a good man as yourself, Mr. Brody.”

That itself is a terrible lie, but it isn’t like Chase would believe him even if he was telling the truth. He scoffs, shakes his head, a playful smile still lighting up his face. Darcy is now staring between the both of them, curious as ever.

“I’ll prove it to you,” Marvin offers, one eyebrow raised. “I’ll even give you a discount.”

Chase finally breaks into full laughter, sighing in relent and shifting to pull his wallet from his back pocket. “How much I owe you, then?”

“Five bucks sound good?”

Stubby fingers rifle through the worn bills, before producing a ten. “Extra’s for the babysitting fee,” he teases, ruffling Darcy’s hair.

➳➵➸➼➽

Inside the house is much cooler in temperature, a welcome change to the sweat rolling like a river down Chase’s back. Darcy sits enraptured with the books on the shelf, flipping through fairytale illustrations and charts of the stars, while Chase has a couple of thoughts tumbling through his brain regarding Marvin’s choice of interior design.

“Ain’t that a fire hazard?” 

Marvin furrows his brows. “Which part?”

Gaze trailing from the layers upon layers of fabric draped about, the candles scattered around every surface, the crystals hanging near the sunlit window… Chase shrugs. “All of it?”

The magician pulls out a chair for Chase, with an awful scraping noise against the thin and creaking wood floorboards. He drums his nails against the back of it and waits for his guest to sit, though Chase does so with a bit of hesitation. “Well, I’m sure the place won’t burn down in the next couple minutes. You should be perfectly safe.”

However unsure he may be, Chase still laughs, and tries to relax in the chair, arms wrapping around himself despite how warm he was before he came inside.

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” Marvin teases. He’s now across the table from Chase, and the latter of the two is becoming increasingly aware of just how much he has to crane his neck upward to meet Marv’s eyes.

“I- I’ve just never done this sorta thing before. Well, aside from a Ouija board in seventh grade.”

Marvin pouts, only a little. “It’s a fortune, Chase, not an interrogation. All you have to do is sit there and relax.”

“Alright, alright,” he capitulates, releasing the tension in his shoulders and shaking out his arms a moment. Once he’s settled, he leans forward, intertwining his fingers to rest his scruffy chin on his knuckles, and rest his elbows on the table.

With a gentle sigh, the magician lets a smile drift back onto his own face. “Good. Now…” he turns his attention to Darcy for just another moment, “My dear, could you promise to stay quiet down there for a little while?”

She nods solemnly, content now to flip through an old Cicely Mary Barker book of flower fairies, and mind a bit of her own magic.

“Thank you kindly.”

And with that, Marvin leans his head back on the chair. His sunglasses are now pulled up over his forehead, keeping his reddish hair from falling into his face. For a moment, he lets his eyelids stay shut. The breath he exhales seems to leave the room shuddering along with it, settling into its comfortable place. With it, he stretches his legs and relaxes. As if to open the gates to his heart, or unfurling some unseen map, his arms spread wide on the tabletop.

When he opens his eyes, the candles flicker with life between the two men, though they weren’t before. Chase looks startled, as if he was going to ask how - but is soon caught on another sight, stumbling over his astonishment - “Y- your eyes…”

Usually, guests come at night, when the shadows play more tricks. Sometimes, though, they see what Chase sees now: Marvin’s pupils blown inhumanly wide, like a cat trying to take in as much light as possible in a dim room.

Marvin presses a single slender finger to his own lips, shhh. Then, he trails his hand slowly across some invisible thread to the velvet cover on the crystal ball, pulling it away with a flick of his wrist. “Just parlor tricks, Mr. Brody. Try to focus.”

The look on Chase’s face tells Marvin that it will be a much harder task for him than anticipated, but Marv doesn’t mind. He finds the awestruck expression to be rather endearing. He almost giggles, though he feels a bit guilty, when he reaches across to take Chase’s right hand by the wrist and the poor guest practically flinches.

Still, Marvin guides him along, and Chase soon rests his calloused palm smoothly against the clear surface. Marvin places his own hands on the other side. When the magician takes a deep breath, sitting up straighter to stare into the globe, his guest naturally follows suit. Half a minute passes in near silence. The only sound remaining in the room is the papers moving while Darcy continues her quiet reading.

Marvin interrupts the tranquil, drags his hands away.

“Let me see his strings of fate.”

And with that, the magic obeys.

In the distorted light, a mirage comes to life. Two figures dancing across from what looks like kitchen cabinets, hand in hand dipping back and forth like a boat rocking on the sea. A child, maybe Darcy, scrambling after a cottontail rabbit. Sparklers leaving glimmering trails to red dirt, and the tiny snap of tweezers pinching closed. There’s the grit of soil, and the haze of grill smoke, and the crispness of cobbler baking in the oven. 

“It’s lovely,” Marvin sighs, offering Chase just a hint of what he sees through his words. “Though you’re clumsy, Chase, you need to practice your two-step.”

Before the subject can further draw his attention away, Marvin searches deeper. This time, he speaks aloud.

“Charles is awake now. You’ve got a six pack of Shiner in the back of your car right now, and you’ll almost forget it when you go into the house. Darcy, very excited, will tell you she saw something in the woods-” he tries to read the shape of her mouth, though the image is hazy - “something I believe she’s calling a fairy. I don’t know when. And the next time you argue, your wife won’t yell back.”

He doesn’t question the last thing, only pressing forward into the thick of the magic. He swears the room grows brighter with every breath.

“You’ll find new friends here - your path is very intertwined with this place. Meeting someone at the motel, finding someone at the church… someone very…very shaky…? Wait a moment, that…”

The room doesn’t grow brighter this time. Marvin forgets how to breathe.

Chase nearly pulls away, but stops himself. “Is everything okay? You look lost.”

Something is not right about the man in the church pews. The images start flickering faster in the crystal, and Marvin’s hands begin to twitch.

There’s blood spilling over a stair, a shadow looming over it before a steel-toed boot comes crashing down into the red. Bony fingers with dirt-tipped nails pluck at fiddle strings. A silver pistol barrel first rests pressed against Chase’s temple, but traces down his jaw instead. Chains rattle and then tug tight in a steel hook. Tiny, dirty mud boots, decorated with pastel hearts, trample over the garden flowers, and leave behind prints that trail into the dark woods. Black ink seems to drip from the top of the scrying tool. It spills over its curved surface and pools inside.

“Marvin?”

The visions vanish, and are replaced by the image of a single, glowing green eye in the surface of the crystal ball, watching back at Marvin, whose heart is slamming against his ribcage in ecstatic terror.

“Marvin!”

Finally, he breaks away from his stupor, and stares Chase down. He remembers at last to inhale, exhale, stretch his fingers taut from his palms and force them to stop trembling. Chase looks equally disturbed, hand no longer anywhere near the crystal ball - which was clear quartz just a moment ago, but now looks more like something made from obsidian.

“What the fuck kinda parlor trick was that, Marvin?”

The candelabrum flames die of their own accord. Darcy turns to her father in a scandalized state, slamming down the worn copy of Flower Fairies of the Summer to put her tiny hands over her ears. Once more, she berates him - “Watch your language!”

Neither man even looks at her, but Marvin collects himself enough to respond, face devoid of any perceived emotion. “Darcy, your grandpa’s up. Go knock on his door, please, get your stuff to go home with your dad.”

“But I wasn’t done reading-”

“Please, Darcy,” Marvin tries again. There's just a twinge of force in his voice.

She doesn’t move, not until her father nods in agreement. Once she has set the book back on the cluttered shelf, she dusts off her skirt and heads out, eager to pick up her new pile of chalk from outside. Her skipping steps have only faded off the porch for a moment before Chase is already back to his interrogation. At least he’s quieter, now, leaning over to half-whisper it in disbelief, “Are you high off your ass?”

Marvin shakes his head. “You need to leave.”

Chase leans away, pale eyelashes drawing closer as his brow furrows. “No. No, what are you on? Your eyes look like -”

“No, not ‘leave my house’. Leave town. And fast.”

Marvin is now up out of his chair, searching around the room for something he was hoping he wouldn’t have to use again. He remembers in his pacing where he tucked it months ago, and leans down to a low wooden cabinet on the opposite side of the room; when opened on its squeaking hinges, dust and cobwebs frame the entrance. He reaches inside and pulls out a thick black tarp, wrapped around something heavy. With none of his usual grace, he turns and drops it into the chair he was sitting in before.

“Leave t- why?” 

Marvin raps his knuckles against the edge of the crystal ball, now too dark to be transparent. “Whatever brought you back to this place is something very nasty. I can see that now.” Then, he begins to unwrap the plastic tarp, revealing the weight inside - a hardwood-handled sledgehammer with a rusted ten-pound head.

Chase finally stands, shoving the chair back into its place beneath the table. It clatters against the uneven floor, warped wood threatening to splinter. “Yes, sure! Fine! We moved here because my brother-in-law died - dark, I know! Still, that doesn’t explain why I need to leave - or why you’re acting so batshit!”

“Your brother-in-law was a García, wasn’t he?” Marvin asks in a casual monotone, though it’s more of a certain statement than a real question. He sets the hammer on the table, and yanks the tarp open, shaking out the dust and splaying it wrinkled across the floor. 

That stops Chase in his tracks, and he drops the defensive tone for just a moment. “Yeah, h- why?”

“Because-” interrupting himself with a groan, Marvin hefts the crystal ball off of its stand and leaves it in the center of the tarp - “It wasn’t an accident. I know who killed him, and I saw him again in your own future.”

Back to the accusatory tone, Chase’s mouth falls open in shock. “Bullshit! I didn’t see any of that!” 

“Chase.” With a good bit of effort, Marvin swings the sledgehammer over his own shoulder, fierce and now-slitted eyes piercing into Chase’s heart. It’d be nice to imagine that the magician’s gaze was enough to intimidate him into taking a few steps back, but the large metal tool probably did most of the work there. “Nobody sees their own future. Now stand back.”

And once Chase listens, Marvin flips his sunglasses back over his eyes, like a last resort for protection. Then, he lifts the hammer and swings it down on the crystal ball hard.

It doesn’t shatter in a messy spray across the room, instead splitting in fractals with an awful crunch and dropping to the ground in a couple of pieces. Whatever has happened to it, it isn’t quartz anymore. There isn’t any light or clarity left in it, just shadow and jagged edges.

Once the job is done, Marvin drops the sledgehammer to the ground by the remnants of destruction, though it seems to shake the walls. He sighs, and turns to Chase, looking pale and a moment away from crumbling himself. “If you won’t leave town, at least take some of my advice. Don’t leave your kids with someone as absentminded as your father. Keep your eyes open, and talk to Henrik at the vet’s office when you need help.”

“The vet?” Chase laughs for just a single breath, discomfort and shock still clear. Despite the fact that the hammer is no longer being wielded, his body still trembles in alarm.

Marvin’s face doesn’t change, set in stone with a practiced determination. “Yes, the vet. He’s good at stitches.”

They stare at each other for another few moments. Chase looks like he’s seen a ghost, though Marvin’s the only one in the room who’s really seen several. 

“I still don’t believe you,” Chase mumbles, his voice missing any of the frustration and volume it had before. He sounds more like he’s reassuring himself than speaking the truth.

Marvin shrugs, slumping against the table and turning to face the wreckage of the crystal ball. It’s not the only one he’s had to break so far in these past few years. 

“Fine. But no refunds.”

Once the silence has continued long enough for Chase to feel safe leaving, he stumbles past the psychic and back out the door.

➳➵➸➼➽

The ride back to the late Javier García’s old ranch is quiet, and uncomfortable, the trees seeming to loom in their headlight silhouettes as if reaching out for the Brody family car. Darcy starts the drive restless, shaking around her bag of chalk, but is asleep with her face pressed against the window by the time they pull past the fence and down the bumpy road.

Chase replays the evening over a million times in his head, trying to imagine how he’ll tell Stacy. If he’ll tell Stacy. He doesn’t understand what happened enough to repeat it for her, so he decides to tell her an abridged version. One that lends itself to more believable ideas - just some clever little actor trying to scare Chase into falling for magic.

He’s so busy thinking over it, in fact, that as he walks a drowsy Darcy across the stone path to the front porch, he almost forgets that he left the Shiner six-pack sitting in the back of his car. Waiting, just as promised by that clever little actor. 

Just a coincidence, surely.

[perikiro]

just wanted to send a big thank you because i've been following you for a while and noticed that you started using id in alt text. i decided to do the same w/ my drawings lately and your image descriptions have been a huge help for me to understand how to write those! do you have any advice for more people that would like to do the same?

Aaahh thanks so much!! 🥹💗💗💗 I'm really happy they've been helpful for you. I'll put my thoughts under a readmore bc this response got really long omg

To be honest I'm still kind of fumbling around trying to get the hang of it myself jsadjfs.... But the first thing I did was look at how other people write them too, and that definitely helped a lot. It gave me the idea to write stuff like "a digital painting" or "a black and white line drawing" at the start of them, bc I would never have thought to do that myself?? I would have just started with like "character A holding an ice cream" or something lmao. But I think it's really useful to describe what the image actually looks like, as well as the contents of it!

I usually try to keep them on the shorter side. I noticed other people tend to either always write concise ones or super long and detailed ones, and it seems to just be up to personal preference?? But I like it when I can keep them between a few sentences to a small paragraph, because I know most people only spend a few seconds looking at individual posts and I want to keep it easy for people to navigate around my blog without being held up by a super long description. And I know I have a tendency to ramble on for too long if given the opportunity, so I need to hold myself in check lmao.

When I was first considering whether it would be worthwhile adding image ids I made a post about it, and someone (I accidentally deleted this post and can't remember who it was unfortunately 😭 but thank you so much to this person!) replied to it explaining that they aren't only used by blind people or people using screen readers, but sometimes by people who just have bad eyesight and can see some or even most of the image, but might have trouble making out the details.

I'd never considered that before for some reason, despite having pretty bad eyesight myself jsdfggh. But I try to keep that in mind (sometimes I'll just think of what I'd be able to see if my glasses were off, for example) and it often helps me decide what is worth mentioning.

One last useful tip I picked up somewhere along the way is to always type out any writing that's in the drawing, either in speech bubbles or stuff like words on a character's t-shirt or shop sign in the bg, bc that can help for people with dyslexia and things like that too!

[thewarriorspecial]

Greenhill Chapter 7

*Archive Edition* Previously only linked to AO3, full work now available under the cut.

Read on AO3

Rating: Teen | Guy Gardner/Kyle Rayner, Hal Jordan, John Stewart, Dinah Lance, Oliver Queen, Wally West, Katma Tui

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

A little something special for @hobicat!

The interpersonal drama continues to unfold at the table and Guy gets his spy gear out.

It's here it's finally here!! I deed it!!

Guy watched as Kyle lowered himself into a seat at the table. Kyle fiddled with the silverware roll, opened it. He pulled out the knife first because of course he did. No surprises tonight, Guy thought as he turned on the recorder he had hidden in his sweater vest. He folded his fingers under his chin as he studied Kyle’s movements scrupulously. He’d play back the audio to listen carefully for any other telling inflections in his speech that he might’ve missed as he professionally navigated the sometimes hostile waters of a coworkers’ night out. I’m in my silver fox James Bond era, Guy smiled to himself. 

Kyle fiddled with the butter knife as he thought both of his painting knife at home where he’d be far more comfortable and also of the fact that for many years his mother forbade him using an actual knife at the table after too many dinner theater tragedies. Kyle had learned early in his life that he did not possess the full body dexterity to become an actual fruit ninja and that was not an actual job. Kyle faked a bright smile at his quiet coworkers. What have I gotten myself into, he thought 

“So,” Carol said, finally breaking the silence, “Not a vampire fan, John?”

“Ah, no. Just not my thing. Too much D&D in the past, I guess.” John replied with a shrug.

“Paladin?” Guy asked.

“Always.” John answered.

“Knew it.” Guy said with great conviction, banging his fist on the table. He’d have all his coworkers figured out by the end of the night.

“What exactly is D&D, anyways?” Carol asked.

Hal gently touched the place where his glasses used to rest, and then suavely pushed his bangs out of his face, “Well, it’s a tabletop role-playing game, or TTRPG for short—“

Ah, fuck. Here we go, Guy thought with a fake smile as he started looking around for the waiter.  As his eyes scanned the area, he caught Kyle returning the same already-tired smile. He liked the kid more by the minute. Shame he was a criminal. Which was also, admittedly, kinda hot.

A young girl with multi-colored hair and facial piercings greets their table with exuberant friendliness. She talks extensively with John and Carol. Guy knows her face but can’t think of her name. She was likely an upperclassman, then. The trio nattered on, unpressed for time as Guy’s knuckles whitened on the back of the empty chair next to him. 

Kyle pulled out his phone and started texting someone. Guy could almost read the texts in the mirrored lampshade behind him. He cursed his old crusty eyes and wondered if he could somehow use the selfie stick to get a good look at the screen without being too obvious. He reached into his pocket and slowly, obviously pulled the thing out. As curious eyes fell on him, he pretended to scratch his back with it, “Carry on. Just…itchin’” Guy said with a weak laugh. As the chatter—which is to say info-dump via Hal—carried on, Guy put on a show of seeming to examine the selfie stick with great concern. He held it up in the air, trying to find an angle that would allow him to see what Kyle was typing. 

Unfortunately, the support of the selfie stick was painted a dark color and even less reflective than the lampshade. To Guy’s cloudy eyes, it appeared that the letters WOWanBAB were in the text bar at the top of Kyle’s screen. If the text is mirrored that means it’s upside down! Guy rationalized. As his brain made the Windows fail sound he thought, Mom and Dad?! But aren’t they…? Is it someone else’s Mom and Dad? Is he seeing someone?! Fuck! Not that it mattered because Kyle was a criminal. And this investigation was absolutely about protecting the students. From this dangerous, hot, bad criminal man. 

“Ow! What?!” Guy exclaimed suddenly, again interrupting Hal’s attempt to woo Carol with his knowledge of emotionally mature Dungeon Mastering. 

“Tst!” John made the sharp sound as he kicked Guy’s foot under the able a second time. 

“What?” Guy stage whispered.

You know what. Stop it, said John’s Eyebrow of Paternal Disappointment (emotional damage +5)

“So issat like, your mom, or—“ Guy asked, impatiently waving his hands towards Kyle’s phone, hoping to get the conversation back on track and away from Nerds and Virgins or whatever.

“Oh,” Kyle smiled sadly, “No. No my mother passed away.”

Guy made a noise somewhere between choking on a chicken bone and being hit by a truck. John’s lips pressed together as he tucked his chin to his chest and raised both of his disappointed eyebrows even higher. Now look what you’ve done.

“Ow!” Guy exclaimed as a flank attack struck from Hal’s side of the table. 

“Its okay! Really!” Kyle raised his hands in supplication, “It was a long time ago. I’m fine.”

“Hardly appropriate dinner conversation,” Hal said.

“Ooh, what’s inappropriate?” Their server reappeared, a full tray of their orders perched over her shoulder.

“Well, Guy’s put his foot in his mouth I think,��� Carol offered.

“He went and asked about poor Kyle’s dead mother!” Hal was offended.

“It’s okay, really. I brought it up!”

“Yeah he brought it up!”

“Oof,” said their server as she quietly passed out their plates.

“He brought—! Alan. How you been? You got anything you wanna add, here?”

“Not at all,” Alan said, bringing his drink to his lips and taking a long, luxurious sip. “I’m enjoying watching you fine, young people exercise your conflict resolution skills.”

“Guy’s could use a little work,” Hal snipped.

Guy’s ears turned as red as his hair as he folded the selfie stick back to pocket size and returned it to his secret spy pocket. Mission Failed, clearly.

“It’s okay, honest. I don’t get to talk about her much. Most people are too afraid to ask.” Kyle rested his warm hand over Guy’s sweaty knuckles. The Defensive Debuff hit home as Guy began to fully blush and sweat. He whipped his gaze over to John, his rock, who rolled a nat twenty on the second Eyebrow attack. Critical damage. Guy swallowed heavily, mouth dry, speechless. He should’ve never multi-classed into Rogue. “My mom was really cool. I miss her every day,” Kyle continued. He pulled his hand back to brush his hair behind his ear, “I wish you could’ve had the chance to meet her.” Kyle looks down for a moment and something else bumps Guy under the table, but pain-free this time. Kyle’s knee. Kyle’s knee. Kyle’s knee. When Kyle’s big, sad brown eyes find their way back to Guy’s it’s direct Constitution damage. Guy wants to wrap him in a blanket and drive him home. “I was just texting Wally. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s on me, buddy.” Guy stammered. He dearly wished he had his Oakleys to hide behind. “My bad. We still cool?”

“Of course.” Kyle’s smile is bright and devastating. Guy wonders if he’s the kind of monster that sparkles in the sunlight. Maybe it’ll all be okay? Just a little peril?

Everyone resumed eating and Hal resumed telling the Tale of Games Past That No One Asked About. Carol’s smile is thinly polite. Hal barreled on in his futile attempt to make her laugh or maybe even impress her. He switched tracks, insisting on the Much Cooler Time He Was One Of The Knights At The Renaissance Festival. This captured her interest but not for the reason he had hoped. After all these years Hal remained unable to discern actual interest from confused horror.

“Wow,” said Carol, “That’s crazy.”

“So,” Kyle said softly to Alan, “History, right?”

“Unfortunately,” Alan grumbled as he took full advantage of Guy’s stun-lock to continue pilfering fries from his plate. 

“Alan’s been teaching for us since the school opened,” John offered, “Anyone could understand he’s a little tired or bored maybe?”

“I’m just old.”

“Maybe you can find a new way to present the material? Or tread new tracks so to speak? Novelty really keeps kids invested.” Kyle beamed with his idea.

Guy tried not to melt. He loved the kid’s enthusiasm.

“Kyle, it’s History. It’s not new.”

“Maybe you could use a little somethin’ new, pops. Might put some spring in your step,” said Guy.

“It won’t.”

“With respect,” Kyle began carefully, “You can’t possibly know everything there is to know about your subject.”

“I do. I was there. I remember.”

“You’re not…that old?” John wondered.

“The things I remember would curl your back hair, boy.”

Oh no, the warning bells went off in John’s mind, not the Nazis. No one wants to talk about the Nazis over dinner.

“You ever climb a bridge to dismantle a mine under heavy artillery fi—“

“Oh! Look!” Hal suddenly interjected, “They have tapioca pudding here. See?” He shoved the dessert menu in Alan’s direction. 

“Ooh,” Alan cooed, placated for the moment. The only thing he loved more than bitching about Nazis and pontificating about the brutalities of war was tapioca pudding. 

A loud crash near the door grabbed everyone’s attention. 

“Ah, fu—shticks! My bad!” Wally appeared directly in the path of the waitress, sending most of her dessert tray clattering to the ground. Kyle noticed, as Wally caught several of the glasses with incredible speed, he seemed to choose to let a few fall to the ground. It happened so fast. Maybe Wally was just very agile. Maybe he was an athlete as well. “Here, chief,” Wally held his credit card out over the bar, towards Radu, “Just ring it up. I gotta watch where I’m going.”

“Oh Wally!” Radu cried, “No trouble at all for one of my favorite customers!”

“You’re too good to me, man.” Wally said over his shoulder as he approached the table. “Sorry I’m late guys.” He took a chair from another table, behind Hal and Carol, even though there were two empty seats next to Kyle. “‘Scuse me real quick,” he said as he grabbed the back of Hal’s chair and slid him away from Carol, making room for himself.

“Hey!” Hal shouted, the picture of indignant. 

“Did you see Tru Blood last night?” Wally asked, sitting backwards in his chair and fully turning his back to Hal.

Carol lit up, clapping her hands, “Oh I did! It was so good! I loved when—“

“Aren’t you married?” Hal hissed at Wally’s back.

“Ew!” Wally snapped, whipping around suddenly and at an odd angle like an owl. “Don’t interrupt! It’s rude. Anyways.”

Hal harrumphed and sunk down in his chair. 

“So, tapioca is your favorite?” Kyle asked.

“It is. One of my earliest memories.” Alan said, chewing thoughtfully. 

“Oh?” Kyle tried to press for more detail. He let Alan slowly share some of his oldest memories—happy and full of detail of his childhood home.

Guy caught Hal’s gaze and jerked his chin up once, You okay?

The one corner of Hal’s mouth pulled downwards and he shrugged one shoulder, Yeah I guess so.

Guy stabbed his fork into his apparently child’s size portion of fries. He stuffed them into his mouth and nodded sharply, At least the food’s good.

Hal nodded in agreement, taking one of his chicken tenders off of his plate with his hand and breaking it in half. 

They watched as Wally dumped dessert after dessert into his face while Carol gushed about the TV show. Something was off about that guy. He seemed way more nervous than usual and he kept looking at his watch. He stood up suddenly, “Hold that thought,” He said to Carol, almost too fast to understand, “Gotta use the bathroom. Berightback!”

Kyle was still in rapt fascination with Alan’s story. John was concentrating on his Boba hunting experience. Carol chose this moment to use the restroom as well. Hal huffed again. 

Guy looked from Kyle back to Hal, a concerned expression on his face. He raised his eyebrows, tilted his head to the side, pointed one finger from his folded hands at Kyle as he jerked his head in the opposite direction and then made a steeple with his two index fingers. You don’t think she’s still in the house?

Hals lips flattened in a grimace. His eyebrows furrowed and he nodded his head towards Guy. He unfolded his hands, flattening his palms in parallel like he was showing a measurement. His eyes widened to accentuate the size. He then curved his fingers and touched the tips together. You're being a huge asshole.

Alan smiled as he watched the silent conversation unfold. He was the only other person at the table who was also versed in bitches’ cant. He also noticed that Wallace hadn’t gone to the restroom at all. He had vanished out of the skate park door. And at an incredible speed. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one with interesting powers. Something was indeed afoot at Radu’s Cafe. 

[belladonnix]

I've been making my boyfriend a custom jacket for Christmas and it's finally Finished!

I'm so hyped to finally be able to share this. He doesn't use Tumblr anymore so there's no risk of him seeing it but I've been working on this present for MONTHS! It cost me about £180 for all the materials for this jacket and I will never ever tell him - I don't want him to feel like he owes me anything or that this was about money at all. Luckily I have enough of some of the materials, like fabric ink and photopolymer, to use on dozens of other projects so it's not a huge loss of money.

The jacket itself cost me £10 second hand and I didn't anticipate spending so much on it but the more I fell in love with him the more I decided he deserved something he would love and treasure and hopefully that would remind him of how much I love him when he wears it.

So here it goes;

#1 - The Jacket

Got this faux fur removable collar, 100% denim jacket for about £10 second hand on eBay! Absolute bargain. I bought it before we got serious, probably in July or August, and was only gonna distress the denim a little originally. Maybe buy a few cheap band patches if I could find them. But as time went on and I fell in love with him, I decided it should be a lot more meaningful than that.

#2 - The Patches

It took me M O N T H S to accumulate the patches I wanted. I made a detailed list of all of his favourite bands and got to work. I was only able to secure 4 patches from the bands he loved - one of them being catfish and the bottlemen. This gave me a little trouble since Catfish haven't been active since the middle of last year and the patches on their merch shop hadn't restocked, but I was deadset on getting that patch. I found it on a redbubble clone and ordered it from overseas - the biggest issue was it came printed rather than embroidered, which is what I wanted for an authentic look, but it's on the smaller side so I figured it didn't matter too much and went ahead.

There was something missing though. A back patch, yeah, of course! I wanted to find the perfect back patch, something that would scream "HIM" as loud as possible. I'd already been playing with the idea of what I wanted but I went ahead and looked for a back patch of The Fool Tarot Card. Unfortunately, like catfish, all the patches I found of it were printed. For such a big patch it was important to me that it was as authentic as possible, so I reached out to someone and had my dream patch custom embroidered just for this project! It was the most expensive piece and without it the jacket would have been less than £100 worth of materials but alas, when it came I was starstruck. The level of detail he'd been able to attain was not unnoticed and I was proud to be able to put this on a present for someone I love.

Then there was the layout. I messed around with it a couple of times until I got it right but I was beyond happy with the composition and my absolutely flawless, somehow for once, sewing skills.

But there was something missing.. his favourite band of all time, I couldn't find any actually up-to-date or stylish patches for it but it was a must. I wanted to show him I truly pay attention, and there was one perfect solution for including it...

#3 - Screen Printing

That's right. I taught myself to SCREEN PRINT FROM SCRATCH FOR THIS! I learned how to make a frame, what materials to use, bought a good photopolymer and fabric ink (of which I have TONS left over) and took my sweet time making it. For transferring the design onto the screen I troubleshot a few different ideas; I couldn't find any plastic to print the design on, so I decided to just use the glass that came with the photo frame I used! We're resourceful in this house. Next getting the design onto the glass, I tried tracing with Sharpie and paint but I'm so impatient it just wasn't working for me. So I got the brilliant idea to painstakingly cut out the intricate design and PVA glue it onto the glass, since it dries clear it wouldn't affect the photopolymer! And it worked!

Oh what band was this for you ask? What band was so important to him that I spent hours stretching chiffon, cutting a design, curing polymer and scrubbing out the screen for?

My Chemical Romance, baby

After the screen finally dried from rinsing I did some test prints on an old pair of jeans, and it went so well I was ready to try it on the jacket!

Didn't go so well. There was a button I hadn't accounted for that made it impossible to print it on the pocket where I wanted it, so I tried just lower and it was a complete bust. I spent 15 minutes cleaning the ink out before retrying on the sleeve. The sleeve went a lot better, not exactly what I wanted but it's clear, visible and opaque.

Perfect. Now we just needed some final touches and it would be ready just in time for Christmas.

#4 - Final Touches

We're talkin' lil bits and bobs here. Nothing too extravagant but small embellishments that really make the piece what it is.

I'll start with pins. I only have 2 so far, maybe planning on getting him more for his birthday next year to add to the jacket, but these have just as much sentimental value as the rest.

Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes, the pin was on sale and it's another one of his favourite bands! It was a must. The goose, goofy and silly but perfect as we'd played Untitled Goose Game together earlier this year as a sort-of date.

Adding a personal touch; the jacket was originally an ASOS piece, but I didn't like how the label looked in the back so I removed it, only to feel like it was too bare after. So I painted him a custom brand label using that fabric ink from earlier and scrap black cotton from my fabrics; sewed it in place and it was finally coming together.

Fixing up any damage; I found on the removable collar, while I was sewing the patches, that one of the elastic loops that held it in place had almost snapped and was hanging on by a thread, so I repaired that! I know it might never be noticed, but that's the funny thing about love isn't it? We do things that our loved ones might never notice just to make their lives a little better, a little easier.

I'm considering roughing up the edges of the seams with a scalpel, just to give it a more worn look. But knowing my Kyle, it'll have that look no problem by the middle of summer.

Conclusions

This was absolutely a journey. There was a lot of stress, but equally there was a lot of time, effort and love poured into this project. I can't imagine him not loving it based on that alone, not even considering the inclusion of his favourite things. If this gets a good reception I'll post a reaction when I give it to him on Tuesday.

I love this man so much, and I think I already know I've created something he will adore and cherish for years to come. And in years to come, assuming I'm still around, I'll be there to patch it, paint it and fix it however he wants, however our lives evolve together as inspiration. I'm as proud to have put work into this as I am to have put work into our relationship. All the tenderness, and care, and patience will be worth it.

And before you ask; Yes, my love language IS acts of service.