#FINALLY coloured this sketch i made more than a year ago

[altho-arto]

Shut that detective UP Ryuu!!! 🗣🚫💆🏻‍♂️

(Make him stop talking for 5 seconds so you can find that specific evidence youve been searching for hours because he forgot where he put it)

Alt colors and a closeup under the cut

[kozachenko]

(Click the image for better quality)

Yipeeee that Keiki and Mayumi fanart I posted the WIP of is finally done woooo- This piece was a very experimental one that I'm kind of OK on. Maybe because I've just gone insane looking at it for so long and I'm my own worst critic lol.

Artist's Notes;

So I've once again been playing around with my rendering style, mainly because I have been wanting to improve my lighting for a while now and as I was just scrolling through Tumblr, I saw some of the official art for that one webcomic-turned-animated-TV-Show Lackadaisy and was immediately inspired. I also have seen a technique a few times in the past where the lineart and shading are merged together, so I've been meaning to try that for a little while.

I did some experimentation on this one sketch of Keiki I posted in my sketch dump and I really liked the results of it, so I carried those over to this piece.

I ended up scaling up Keiki and Mayumi from the original WIP because I felt like they were both getting lost in the composition, and I'm glad for that because I think it works a lot better. I'm not a fan of how Mayumi's sword turned out at all, but it's not really meant to be the focus of the piece so eh. Overall, I think I could do better with my colours, probably because with Keiki and Mayumi's colours, I did them flat in greyscale and then used a brush on the overlay blend mode to colour all of them over, after which I changed the base layer for their colours from white to yellow and then lowered the opacity so it all went together better. I also decided to use gradient maps for a lot of the background elements, mainly to experiment with getting in my values first to make them pop out more. I ended up finding a really nice sky gradient on Clip Studio Paint that I really liked, and that kinda helped to establish the colour scheme of the background a lot. I think the whole "start in greyscale then colour" thing really works better with painterly styles rather than more illustrative ones, and while it is good at making sure your values are more readable, I honestly don't think I have the skill level to pull that off yet. Honestly, I think I've been looking at this drawing too long or maybe I added too much to it, but I wish I could've made the colours less monochromatic, but I'll just save that for the next piece I do.

I do love how the flame (...well it's more of a weird space rift than anything in this piece) and the lighting turned out, those were fun to do. I was initially struggling with the flame and how Mayumi is positioned in front of it before realizing "Oh wait! This is a weird abstraction of a weird creature! I don't have to follow the laws of anatomy!" and just dislocated it's flamey bottom jaw from the main body. I also changed the colours of it since I was really not liking how incredibly bright it was when it had lighter colours. Again, the gradient maps served the more painterly style of the flames well.

I also love how Mayumi turned out. I could do her sleeves better but that's more of just me needing to study how those types of sleeves fold in that position more. I'm also very happy with the posing, the technique I used for that was taking photos of myself in the positions I wanted, blocking in the silhouette and then modifying that by adjusting it to my lines of action that I drew on top of the original photos, and then sketching over the silhouettes and drawing in the shapes of the hands overtop of the photo if I needed to get the fine details right. As for what I do to take the pictures myself, I use a tall chair I have, prop up my phone with a phone stand, put on a ten second timer and scramble to get in position. Yes, I did have to use a bunch of thin markers I had to try and get the hand positioning on Keiki's pose right, yes I do have a fake sword that I used to get the positioning of Mayumi's arms and hand right, the sword was for an old Halloween costume from several years ago. I really like how both Keiki and Mayumi turned out in this drawing, I'll have to play around with these designs for them more in future drawings.

Also, if you wanna know why I draw buildings like that, when I watched Fantasia 2000 as a kid (One of the Disney movies where they make really beautiful animations to classical music) the way they drew the buildings in the first few sections Rhapsody in Blue segment (the jazz one with the cities) changed my brain chemistry and now whenever I need to draw buildings really quickly, I refer back to that. Since the buildings aren't really the main subject, I didn't put much thought into them.

As you can tell I am very tired of this piece, mainly because I made things harder for myself by overcomplicating the process compared to what I usually do, mainly with the whole "starting in grayscale then adding colour." I'd honestly just prefer having a black layer set to colour that I can just toggle on and off when I need to see the values, but it was good to experiment. And that was mainly the point of this whole drawing, to experiment. I'm definitely going to have to play around with this new style I'm going for, mainly because I liked how it turned out a lot in the augmented Keiki sketch, and also because I want to find ways of making it suit my style more. I also really want to keep experimenting with my lighting like this, it's very fun. Last but not least I am never starting in greyscale again because dear god I do not like the workflow it forced me into. I don't have a problem with the method itself it's mainly just a skill issue lol.

If you wanna read my headcanons for these two, I put them in my WIP post, so you can read them there if you want to. The more I look at this the more I prefer the simplicity of my WIP. I might go back to this and just take away the fancy colours and effects to see what it looks like without all of that stuff and reblog this post with that drawing, but for now, I don't think I can look at this drawing again for a while.

[shiori8]

Oh look! It's another redesign!

Here, have this little illustration based on my Ladybug/Chat Noir re-designs, that I've been slaving away at for the past month (we're just gonna ignore the fact that I started plotting out the costumes and sketched the pose a year ago lol). I know, I know. A redesign? Very original. But hey I haven't done it yet, so that makes it different ok😝!

(Gosh, I usually don't post sketches, I feel like this is exposing all my drawing weaknesses lol)

These are some of the first doodles I did. For Marinette I basically looked at some traditional Qui Pao and Hanfu dresses for inspiration and mixed and matched details I liked. I also gave her these little skirt flaps (?? whatever you want to call it) to symbolise the ladybug wings and kept the spots concentrated there. All in all I actually immediately knew what I wanted to do with her costume and pretty much just kept to my first draft, but what really gave me trouble was the hair somehow. I really wanted to incorporate actual antennae (I just think it's cute🤧!!!!) but it got too crowded up there so I had to let them go eventually🥺. In the end I settled for her twin tails pulled up instead of down. To make it look more distinct from her civilian form the idea was also that her hair colour changes to black after the transformation.

Chat Noir on the other hand was so difficult😭😭😭. I honestly like the original design soo much it was hard to think about alternatives. I wanted something that matched better with my new Ladybug, but I don't think I succeeded much. Also I hyperfocused on giving him this little scarf/oversized collar thing in my first doodles because I thought it looked cool and ended up scrapping it because the little bell is just too iconic not to keep lol. As you can tell from the final illustration there is actually not all that much that made it into the final version, except for the sheer sleeves, the shoes, the claw marks and some neon green details. I also ended up giving both of them some gold accents to make them match a bit more. As with Marinette, the idea is that Adrien's hair changes colour a bit after transforming too. So I envision Adrien having more of the smooth platinum blond in his civillian form and a more brown-ish dirty blond as Chat Noir, to go for the whole stray cat look lol.

I might come back to this one day, to re-do their civilian forms too or make these costumes more practical rather than just focusing on aesthetics (But hey if the show does this than I am allowed too😂!)

[fainthedcherry]

2024 Human Art VS 2019 Human Art !!!!!

AS PROMISED, HERE'S A POST WITH SOME NEW ART!!!

And also an art comparison, just to see, how much I improved in drawing the 2 bois <3

I'm MEGA tired despite having slept after work, but I WON'T let that deter me from writing a description!! YAPNADO AHEAD;

FINN AND MARCOOO. FINNANMARCO. BEEN A WHILE SINCE I'VE ACOUSTICALLY AND FERALLY YELLED ABOUT MY 2 FICTIONAL MEN WHOM ARE CLOSE TO MY HEART.

I'm SO glad, that in the new drawing, Marco finally looks like the twink he always was, but still enough meat on the bones to look NORMAL lmao, can't say that about the 4 other sketches of me trying to redraw this ref for years. xD (why yes, his wings took forever, why do you ask? /lh)

I'M MEGA SUPER DUPER GLAD, that Finn FINALLY looks like a chubby, wild bastard TOO, OH TOOTHPASTE MAN, HOW MANY HEARTACHES YOU GAVE ME OVER STRUGGLING TO DRAW AN ENDOMORPHIC BODY TYPE. BUT I CAN NOWWWWWWWwwww!!!!!

God this habit of loudly reading out my posts as I type them made me realise what a bad Schwarzenegger impression I do on accident bc I'm overly excited to post something after a month of silence SDKFSKLDG

ONE THING I ALWAYS WANTED TO DO. IS PUT EVERY DETAIL I NEEDED ON A BIG REF. SO I DID! I've drawn closeups of the boys's eyes, I've drawn Finn's tongue so that I don't need to constantly remind myself what his blush and flesh colours were sdfkldsgkl, I FINALLY denoted their heights, so people know that they're tall TALL dudes (and that Finn obviously will struggle w/ his lanky mfing legs, we LOVE giving a middle-aged man heart attacks once he reaches his 40's!!!)

ANNDDD ALSO SOME SIDE VIEWS OF THEM. The last side-view I had of F & M, looked REAL bad. Like, Marco's face looked WAY too stereotypically European (to my fault bc surprise surprise not many African people live in Europe so I had poor frame of reference but I've been fixing it via looking up images online instead, at least it helps but yeah, I have a hard time so far unfortunately💀), Finn's was just... B u c k e t. NOT LIKE HANDSOME BUCKET. BUT JUST BUCKET. IT NEEDED FIXING (fun fact I accidentally made Finn have the most attractive jaw shape for men according to beauty standards and I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW I JUST WANTED THIS MAN TO LOOK S Q U A R E AND THAT'S IT, MINECRAFT STEVE HAS MORE RIZZ THAN MOST MEN OFFICIALLY).

OH YEAH ALSO A CLAW REF AGAIN FOR FINN!!! His old ref looks too cool for me to give up on it tbh even as dated as it is sfjklsdglk, BUT I felt like I needed to redraw them properly.

FUNNILY ENOUGH A PERSON I COMMISSIONED SAID I HAVE SOME REALLY CLEAN AND NICE LINEART. I wish I heard that 5 years ago when I was really insecure about my bad lineart skills xD, I don't use lineart anymore nowadays outside of reference-drawings like these I don't plan to redraw in the next years unless necessary soooo yeah! They're gonna appear much rarer unless I go off and about making more ref sheets of all of my Sonc OC's sfklsdgsdfksdg

This drawing took 5 days to make btw. Not the hours spent on this LOL. 5 days of my life I'll never get back tho bc I care too much about my babies and I feel they deserve proper refs sdfklsdglk

WHAT ELSE SHOULD I MENTION.....HOPEFULLY I PLAN TO DRAW MORE HUMAN REFS IN THE FUTURE INSTEAD OF STAY IN MY COMFORT ZONE OF SONIC OCS ONLY. I for years wasn't confident in my ability to draw humans, but I can do so NOW at least!!!!!!!!!! Even if I'm like...3 years too late to how I wish my art looked back then already dsklfdsg, I have some high standards I need to continue to knock down as my 2024 resolution sdfklsdg

^IT'S BEEN WORKING THOUGH AS YOU CAN TELL BC I'VE BEEN UPLOADING SOME BAD DOODLES AND SKETCHES, BEEN DRAWING MORE GARBAGE AND BECAME MORE INVOLVED IN MY BELOVED FANDOMS. I wanna continue doing so! It was the most fun I've had with art ever. I hope to properly meet more fandoms I left in the past bc I thought it'd be embarrassing to share my passion for a franchise back then. I EMBRACE THE CRINGE NOW AS AN ADULT AT LEAST EVEN IF 7 YEARS TOO LATE ON THAT FRONT TOO. We all age and mature ig but I just become more silly year by year,,, c:

Oh yeah if you also see this btw lemme know, whether the new watermark tiles are subtle enough to not be noticed!!!! I know, watermarks are annoying and nobody likes them, but ever since AI invasions, I REFUSE to put my work online without ANY form of proof that somebody took it from my page. I just want people to stop lying on the internet for cloud and pick up a pencil. It's not that hard smfh. The only time I could excuse AI art is w/ amputees man. That's the only time I could empathise with someone, who wants to be an artist but LITERALLY can't bc they got dealt a bad hand in life. I digress my AI hate can be rambled about some other day, I know I love yapping and writing essays about THAT topic for sure sfklsdklg

I chose to post this ref to my Tumblr first tho, bc I still wanna work on my drawing of Abbacchio,,,, he is quite dear to me and I'd love to put effort into a doodle of him that won't take too long. Like 4 hours or 5 hours tops. I still have yet to figure out, if his cute star shape on his head is a hat or part of his hair. Bc I CAN'T TELL TBH AND I'VE BEEN DRAWING IT AS PART OF HIS HAIR PATTERN BUT I THINK IT'S A HAT NOW EVER SINCE I LOOKED AT MORE ASBR CAPS OF HIM I TOOK FOR REFERENCES. xD

Also another side-note, but I've ofc reduced down the lankiness of the dudes I draw™, but I in result wanted to sliiightly make larger feet/hands bc my Sonic phase will continue to possess me 'til the end of time /hj, if you also wanna lemme know what you think on that, bls do! I am messing about with stylization still. I am finding my footing with stylizing humans sOOO yeah!!!! I hope to some day be satisfied with my artstyle change of '24! So far it's been really rewarding and eye-opening to me and my journey as an artist for my 7 years of existing on the 'net w/ my silly goobers I like to scream about to in the void <3

Once again, tagnado also incoming below bc I dunno how to properly tag my art so lemme throw in things I THINK are relevant to this post sdkldsgkl

See you hopefully tomorrow w/ a lil doodle dump if I get around to it!!!! : D

[reignofsiderians]

I found this water colour sketch that I’ve made more than year ago and I realized that I hadn’t published it and now I thought…ah why not. I like the concept art/sketch vibe that it has. It’s only A5 size or something and done relatively quickly.

Some people may recall that I’ve drawn Siderians (northern horse sized cats) interacting with crystals -especially if you’ve read my graphic novel. I’ve long been wondering myself what these crystals really are and how they work. I began to get the impression that they were some kind of living organism that could communicate with electrical signals (like an animal’s nervous system) and that they form an underground brain-like network that covers vast areas, if not the whole planet if individual ecals stay connected.

Now I realized that they are actually some kind of fungus. I think that they make ‘crystallized’ exoskeletons to their fruiting bodies which appear like crystals above the ground (particularly in caves). Recently I’ve also come over some scientific finding that fungi may actually be able to produce electrical signals that may mean something…that was a funny coincidence.

Anyway, there is a lot more to explore regarding the ecal life cycle, ecology, body structure, evolution and their relation other living organisms, particularly animals. Some fungi form interactive networks with plants and I was wondering…what if ecals do this with animals? Theories being to unfold finally. That may also mean that some things need to be changed in the graphic novel, but so far, the way that Siderians interact with them is still quite accurate in the novel (aside from some details).

The ecals featured here are the black spikes that stick out from the ground. The species or maybe family/order of called ‘sortal’. They are one of the most mysterious and also potentially dangerous ecals that Siderians know of. Here they appear deep down in a cave on Iceland and only a few Siderians dare to even interact with them. The light that you see in the background comes from other ecals – so it is basically hyper bright bioluminescence. With this level of brightness, ecals make plant life in caves possible.

There is a lot more to say about ecals and even more that I don’t know yet. If I ever get enough time and energy, I intend to make more concept art of them. Will see if I get to that.

Art and concept by me. Please don’t copy/use this without my permission!

[old-inamys]

Muse

AO3

Rating: G

Pairing: Ezioleo

Wordcount: 4300

Summary: Golden light poured through the high windows, gilding the scene in front of him. Ezio was painted in sunlight. (Or, Leonardo gets to paint his muse)

This is my first time sharing any writing (with anyone other than a close friend and my English teacher), so its pretty nerve-wracking to post this. Also thought it would be good to create a new account for writing stuff cause too many people I know in real life follow my main account for me to be comfortable sharing this. It's incredibly self indulgent, and I spent way too long researching renaissance art, but I had a lot of fun working on it and I hope you enjoy reading it! Please be kind <3

Florence, 1500

It was fascinating, the way light changed someone’s face. The way bright daylight could bring their features into sharp relief, and cast shadows so deep they were almost black. The way a flickering candle could make anyone appear softer, or darken their surroundings until they were a skull poking out of the gloom. Leonardo had always marvelled at this — how light brought otherwise dull surfaces and colours to life. It could create the most wonderful illusions.

As an apprentice he had been almost obsessed with the idea, painting things again and again and again, until he could truly capture the atmosphere. His master had watched him with amusement. Verrocchio had been primarily a sculptor, but he was skilled in the use of brushes and had much to teach Leonardo about colour and form. He’d seen Leonardo’s need to understand and his desperation to learn. So he had encouraged him with fondness and pride disguised in his chastising words.

Looking over his easel at the scene in front of him, his master’s words came rushing back. Beams of light danced through the air from the high windows of his studio. Leonardo had chosen this workshop especially for the windows, and it was days like today that he was reminded why. It bathed the room in soft gold and painted Ezio in sunlight. Gilded, beautiful. It caught in his hair, which glinted with chestnut. Silhouetted in a golden halo, he looked almost divine. More than that, he looked peaceful, happy. 

Ezio had kept his promise. It had taken many more years than either of them could have anticipated — a promise made between boys who had no idea what the future would hold — but Ezio had finally found his peace, and so now he sat to be painted.

The time had aged him — a trimmed beard now covered his cheeks and scars adorned his body like war trophies, but the shine in his eyes was brighter than Leonardo ever remembered it. He’d been hardened by the life he lived, forced to no longer be the boy Leonardo had met in his Florentine workshop all those years ago, but in recent weeks he’d been calmer, an air of hopefulness following him wherever he went. He was finally allowing himself to look towards a future not marred by blood. 

Leonardo thought of their younger selves fondly. Ezio had been but a boy, mind filled with youthful distractions, and Leonardo had been a young artist desperate to make his mark on the world. The ghost of the day they’d met, the people they’d been would always be streaked through their conversations, but he was proud of how far they had both grown. They had been happier in their innocence, but he wouldn’t trade what they had become for their youth. It was for entirely selfish reasons — if he went back to those days he and Ezio would be no more than friendly acquaintances, an artist and his patron.

Ah, his mind had gotten lost in thought again. It was too easy, when Ezio indulged him like this, to get caught in nostalgia. There was no threat, nowhere they needed to be (his commissions could wait), just the two of them and his canvas. It allowed his thoughts to run away from him. 

He turned back to Ezio, and began sketching his features onto the blank canvas. 

Painting a portrait was both an intimate experience and a detached one. The focus required to perfect the sitter’s features was intense — he studied every detail until the shapes and colours were ingrained into his mind — yet the intimacy of that focus was lost in the analytical nature of it. This was true for most of his commissioned works — the face was a puzzle of shapes to be solved. There was a soul of course, hidden behind the contours and the eyes, but they were still all simple shapes that had to be understood. 

Painting Ezio was an entirely different experience.

Things that usually wouldn’t have dazed him were nearly overwhelming. Leonardo could feel his cheeks flush as he studied Ezio’s lips, his heavy brows and his piercing eyes. Leonardo was pinned under his gaze. It was as if Ezio was seeing everything he was, all the layers of him, and looking past them to his beating heart.

Ezio had promised him one painting, but as the sessions of modelling had drawn on, he had indulged Leonardo’s need to capture him on the canvas. Soon drawings of him filled Leonardo’s notebooks, and his eyes stared out from all the unfinished paintings scattered around the workshop. He was the soul of every one of Leonardo’s sketches. Ezio in his assassin robes, eyes obscured in shadow and danger written into every angle of his body. Ezio’s smile, his lips curved into an easy grin. Studies of Ezio’s body, holding pose after pose for Leonardo to draw his muscle forms. Of course, he’d studied anatomy for decades — under Verrocchio and then by dissection, until he could recall muscle movements and bone placements without a second thought — but there was always more to learn, and it did make a difference working from a living model. He could allow himself one more indulgence, and Ezio seemed happy to help him study.

And so the shapes of Ezio had engraved themselves behind Leonardo’s eyes. 

Gentle curving lines making way to harsh angles, soft shadows hiding deadly strength. Leonardo knew Ezio could have a blade to his heart before he’d even noticed a movement, but the curve of his thighs, the deceptive softness of his muscular torso...

During some of their painting sessions Leonardo had even considered taking up sculpting again, just to see if perhaps then he could do Ezio justice.

His muse. 

Leonardo allowed himself a quick glance up at Ezio, and then turned back to his drawing.

Ink coated his fingers from the preparatory sketch, and he hastily wiped them on a piece of cloth before reaching for his brushes. Silverpoint would have been a more refined approach for the drawing, and he certainly would have used it if he was considering finishing the painting, but the speed and freedom of ink was perfect for his current desire to work quickly. Commissioned artworks required a certain level of formality, a standard of grace and posture that had to be adhered to, but in his private work he didn’t have to conform to it. It was freeing to work quickly and messily, capturing motion and soul, and a well enjoyed break from the sometimes stifling requirements of his patrons’ commissions. 

Carefully, Leonardo gathered some paint on his brush, and brought it to the canvas. Thankfully his apprentices had mixed the paints this morning, although he had had to send Alessandro to purchase some more pigments. He’d used the rest of the yellow ochre yesterday afternoon, and he needed it to get the colours of this portrait right. With a careful brushstroke, he began. 

He flicked his gaze back to Ezio. 

He truly was beautiful. Leonardo didn’t think he could ever admit this thought to his friend, but it danced around in his mind as he looked at him. The light glinted in Ezio’s brown eyes like warm honey.

He sat on a chair in the middle of the room. This afternoon he’d forgone his doublet and assassin’s robes, instead wearing a simple linen shirt. Over the years Leonardo had grown so accustomed to his friend appearing as a striking white shadow that it was jarring seeing Ezio wear anything different. He had sometimes wondered if he slept in his robes. To see him now, dressed so casually and obviously relaxed in the warmth of the workshop brought a lump to his throat.

Leonardo turned back to the painting, cheeks warm under Ezio’s piercing gaze.

“You’re very quiet,” he mused at Leonardo

“Am I? When I paint my mind wanders and I tend to forget everything else around me.” No need to tell him where his mind had wandered, he would gladly let Ezio make his own assumptions.

Ezio chuckled. “Whenever I gave you those codex pages you were completely lost to me, so hearing that is no surprise.”

He paused for a moment, in comfortable silence, then asked, “How is life treating you, now that you’ve returned to Florence?”

Leonardo considered his question for a moment. His move back to Florence had been easier than he’d anticipated, but it had been time for a change and he hadn’t really settled in Venice for the brief period he’d returned there that year. Fleeing from conflict in Milan tended to dampen the excitement of arriving in a new city.

“Work is finding me here, which is wonderful, but I’d really hoped for some time to work on my inventions,” he said. Ezio watched him, a smile dancing in his eyes. “The flying machine for example: you flew Ezio, but what if the machine could be adapted to sustain flight without a path of braziers supporting it?”

The possibilities were endless. If he understood how to do that, then he could adapt the machine to sustain longer distances, to fly higher, to transport goods...

He became aware he’d trailed off into thought, and grinned apologetically. “I have been commissioned to paint an artwork for the alterpiece of the Church of Santissima Annunziata. I cannot tell how long it will take, but I hope to be able to do my own work alongside it.”

Ezio nodded. “I’m sure it will be beautiful.” He smiled as he talked, that charming grin that made Leonardo’s knees weak. “What’s taken your interest at the moment, my friend?”

Painting you, Leonardo thought, but he knew he couldn’t say that.

His interests came and went like the tide, always shifting as they had ever since he was a young man. It was one of the joys of being an artist, how his mind flitted from one idea to the next, but also one of the struggles. It often seemed his head was simply too full of ideas, and his inability to work on them all was a constant source of frustration. 

And Ezio… ever since Leonardo had met Ezio something about him had tugged at his mind. In the years that followed, the need to paint Ezio — to sketch him, to somehow capture his soul and put it into an artwork — had grown into an obsession. It itched at his mind like all his other curiosities about the world — about flight, about water — never quite leaving. It haunted him. Now that Leonardo had started painting him, he didn’t think he’d be able to stop. 

“Water,” he answered instead, thinking back to one of his long term fascinations. ‘I’ve recently taken some studies of its movement, and I was wondering about how we could harness its power. I have nothing planned right now of course, I am too busy with my commissioned work, but it’s an idea that has fascinated me for a long time.’

As he spoke he could feel the enthusiasm rising in him, and he gestured wildly. 

“There are so many ideas out there Ezio, just waiting to be thought of, and so many things nature has created that we have yet to understand!” He felt a sudden desire to make Ezio know how deep this interest ran, that these ideas were what he lived and breathed for. “Just think, we have only scratched the surface of possibilities in all the centuries mankind has lived, and before I die I want to— no— I need to understand as many as I can.”

Ezio’s gaze was unbearably fond as he watched Leonardo speak. 

“Ah, I’m rambling again, forgive me.” Leonardo felt a brief pang of guilt, but shoved it away. He often got so caught up in his ideas that it was easy to forget that not everyone thought the same way he did, but Ezio had long since learned and, although he occasionally teased Leonardo about it, he was patient with him.

"Years ago I would have believed your words to be an idealistic dream," he said, chuckling as he spoke, (years ago he had thought that, and told Leonardo as much) “and then you went and showed me that a person could fly. I’ve seen enough of your work to believe that if you think of it you can make it possible.”

The sincerity in Ezio’s voice left a pang in his chest. He always knew the right things to say, and he charmed Leonardo without even realising it.

“Your words mean much to me, especially coming from you.” Leonardo smiled at him widely, “Perhaps, once I have decided what to build, you could test the machine for me!”

Ezio’s eyes widened and he choked on a protest. “Your last machine nearly killed me!” he said indignantly, but humour danced in his eyes, and Leonardo knew that his annoyance was mostly for show.

“You were the madman who volunteered to trial it!” he said, and he couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s spluttered protest. “Besides, you’re still here to talk about it.”

Ezio flinched in mock hurt and then rolled his eyes. 

Somewhere in their years of friendship they’d eased into a deep sense of comfort with each other. It had been rocky at first, both misunderstanding the other’s intentions and way of thinking and clashing over it, but suddenly it had clicked into place and they’d understood each other. Leonardo couldn’t pinpoint when exactly Ezio had become his closest friend — perhaps that night when he’d first come to him injured, alone and lost — but there was no denying now that they understood each other better than anyone else. 

They lapsed into comfortable silence, and Leonardo looked back down at his canvas. Now that he’d begun to fill in the colour, he could see that Ezio’s face wasn’t quite right. The curve of his nose was at a slightly different angle to where it should be, and even though it mightn’t be noticeable to anyone else he was painfully aware of its wrongness. 

He must have made a face, because Ezio let out a stifled snort of laughter. 

“The painting isn’t working?”

“No,” Leonardo replied, disgruntled, “the angle here is wrong and it’s throwing the proportions out of place.” It wasn’t perfect, and he couldn’t be content with that. For Ezio it needed to be.

“Could you tilt your head?” he said, “To the side— just a little further—” Ezio moved to the left and Leonardo sighed again. He was facing downwards too much. “Oh just let me show you.” 

Ezio turned towards him amused, giving up entirely.

Leonardo laid his paintbrush down then stepped around his canvas towards Ezio. He brought his hands up to Ezio’s jaw and tilted his face slightly to the left. 

There, that was the right angle. 

Ezio had fallen silent, the easy grin disappearing from his face. It was replaced by an unreadable expression. 

“Leonardo?" he asked, voice soft.

Despite his proximity to the man, Leonardo was still startled at being addressed. He’d been so focused on the technical part of the portrait he had almost forgotten who he was painting. 

And that was when the closeness hit him. This wasn’t another patron, this was Ezio.

They were no strangers to closeness. It was what came with years of friendship, of helping with injuries, of keeping deadly secrets for the other, but this time Ezio's presence was almost overwhelming. He was close enough that, if he wanted to, Leonardo could count his eyelashes or kiss the scar that cut through his lip. He pushed that thought away hastily.

“Yes?”

“Forgive me,” Ezio said, and his voice was low, hesitant, barely more than a murmur. The hairs on the back of Leonardo’s neck stood up. “Can— can I kiss you?’

The tentativeness with which he spoke caught Leonardo off guard, and or a moment he was overcome with concern for his friend, before the words sunk in.

Oh.

A dull roaring began to rise in his ears and his mind felt sluggishly slow. That couldn’t be— surely not— did he hear right?

Before he could convince himself not to, before he could think of all the ways this could go wrong, he nodded. 

Ezio’s eyes widened, and then he was reaching up to grip Leonardo’s cheeks and pulling him forward. Lips crashed into his own, soft and pliant and desperate, and Ezio’s fingers tangled through his beard, traced over his cheeks, curled around the back of his neck. Leonardo was dimly aware of his own hands clutching at Ezio’s hair. He wound his fingers through it as Ezio tilted his face up, and he felt himself sigh into Ezio’s mouth.

Leonardo could feel the scar on Ezio’s lips under his own, taste the floral scent of wine on his breath, smell that heavy musky scent that was so distinctly him, no longer tainted with the tang of blood. His beard was rough against Leonardo’s skin, and their noses squished into each other’s cheeks, every sensation deliciously, devastatingly real.

Leonardo knew Ezio loved with fierceness — he’d heard enough about Ezio’s various ‘conquests’ to last him till the end of his days — but this,this was something else entirely.

His heart pounded in his chest, his cheeks flamed, his knees wobbled underneath him and he vaguely wondered how he was staying upright, before Ezio’s hands snaked down from his jaw to his waist and hauled his body forward. Despite the intensity, every one of Ezio’s movements was surprisingly gentle, with practiced care and grace. 

Leonardo stumbled forwards, but Ezio’s firm hands caught him. Mouth never leaving his, he pulled Leonardo down onto the chair with him, positioning him in his lap. 

Have mercy.

Ezio murmured Leonardo’s name against his lips, his tongue wrapping around the letters as if he was savouring the very taste of them. A prayer, a promise.

Leonardo had kissed people before but they had been chaste kisses, hurried and hidden. The denunciations after his brief romance with Jacopo Saltarelli in his youth had only made him more careful, too careful — he’d worked too hard for his career and reputation to risk it for anything, no matter what his heart yearned for.

Wrapped in Ezio’s arms however, his reasoning seemed to make increasingly less sense. 

There was a rush, a need, that could be felt in the urgency of Ezio’s lips, but beneath it all was tenderness. Nothing could compare to this. Nothing would ever compare to this. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to kiss anyone else again.

Lord forgive him. 

Ezio kissed him with the intensity of a drowning man gasping for air, of someone stranded in the desert getting their first sip of water.

And Leonardo kissed him back, as if it could convey more than two decades of emotions, could show Ezio all the love he’d put into every brushstroke of him. 

He felt a gasp escape his lips and he ducked his head away, letting it fall against Ezio’s chest.

His cheeks burned and his whole body thrummed with the racing beat of his heart. Through the linen of his shirt, Ezio’s pounded in unison.

‘My dear Ezio, my dearest Ezio.’

The waves of emotions threatened to consume him. He had spent years watching him from a distance, adoring his company but resigned to the fact that what he wanted could never be. 

And now here he was, sitting is his arms with his mouth bruised from Ezio’s own desperate lips. The taste of him was still on his tongue. It was all too much. 

He stayed there breathing, head bowed against Ezio’s chest and fought for control over his stuttering heart. When Ezio spoke his voice was distant, as if Leonardo was hearing it from the end of a long tunnel. 

“How long?”

“Mm?”

Leonardo pulled away to look at him and the sight of Ezio made his body tingle with warmth. His face was flushed, hair dishevelled with long stands pulled out of their tie and hanging over his face. Parted lips pink and wet. His usually sharp eyes were wide, and peculiarly, he looked nervous.

Ezio, who could charm anyone — even the formidable Caterina Sforza — was nervous of him.

“How long have you felt this?” Ezio looked as dazed as he felt.

“Since—” his voice trailed off, uncertainly. Then again, he’d gone this far, surely there wasn’t anything to fear from telling the truth? He coughed weakly and began again, “Since Florence.”

“That long?” Something crumpled in Ezio’s expression and Leonardo’s heart twisted. “Oh Leo— I’m so sorry for not noticing sooner.”

“You had other things on your mind,” revenge, justice, Cristina, “and anyway, I never expected— I never dared to hope—”

The vulnerability in Ezio’s expression was disarming. “During our time in Venice,” he murmured, answering his own question, “We had just arrived in the city, and a man gave us a tour— you remember?”

Leonardo nodded, the memory as clear in his mind as if it were mere weeks ago instead of years. A fond one, of a time when, although their lives had been fraught with danger, things had been simpler. In between everything that happened those years spent in the city, they’d found moments of peace, of laughter. Venice was where Ezio’s smiles had begun to reach his eyes again. 

“One shop was selling little wooden mannequins,” Ezio continued, “lay figures, and the smile on your face when you saw them… I’d considered you a close friend for a long while before, but I remember in that moment I desperately wanted to give you anything you could ever want.”

If possible Leonardo felt his heart swell even more. He had aged in the time he’d known Ezio, but the man’s words made Leonardo feel like a young man again. He was almost giddy with it.

He hadn’t dared acknowledge this emotion for what it was, in all its fragility, but now, how could it be anything else? Adoration settled deep in his chest, burrowing through his veins to his very heart. Ezio was the warmth and familiarity of coming home to sit in-front of the fire. 

Leonardo’s eyes sought Ezio’s again. The brittleness still hadn’t quite left Ezio’s expression. All those years had built a facade of invulnerability, and to see the mask shattered… it reminded Leonardo of the first time Ezio had come to him injured after a mission, young and afraid and alone. 

Ezio took a shuddering breath, steadying himself to speak, and Leonardo’s heart plummeted. 

“The things I’ve done— I don’t deserve to be loved by someone like you Leo,” he said quietly, “and yet I can’t stop myself from selfishly wanting it.”

The things he’d seen and had to do had broken him, that much was clear for Leonardo to see, and although he was beginning to mend the cracks, deep fissures remained. They would leave scars on him — not all visible but every one just as deep.

But scars could fade. 

The bloodshed and loss of his past would forever be a part of him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t grow past them. He didn’t have to be condemned by all he had lost.

“Everyone has things they’ve done that they wish they could take back,” Leonardo murmured, taking Ezio’s face in his hands. Ezio’s gaze was piercing, his eyes broken and desperate and hopeful. “You may not tell me everything Ezio, but in all the years I’ve known you, nothing you’ve done would make me think of you as anything less than a good man.”

Gently pulling Ezio forward, he pressed their foreheads together. 

“I love you regardless of the life you lead, regardless of the things you’ve done, regardless of how you see yourself.”

Ezio’s pulled away sharply to stare at him. For a horrible moment Leonardo thought he’d overstepped — a kiss could mean a lot less that what he’d assumed — but then Ezio’s lips twisted into an incredulous smile.

“I love you Ezio, I love you, I love you.”

The words wouldn’t stop flooding out, bubbling out of him uncontrollably, and he couldn’t stop saying them if he tried. Though from Ezio’s reaction, he didn’t know if he wanted to.

Ezio looked slightly dazed, like he couldn’t believe what had happened, as if he didn’t dare believe it was real. 

He was a man who fell in love often, with intensity and fire. Leonardo had watched him go from lover to lover with gut wrenching fondness. Cristina, to Rosa, to Catarina, giving his heart so entirely to each of them and yet he expected so little in return. And now he was giving his love to Leonardo. He didn’t understand why, what he had done to earn such devotion, but he knew that he would try his hardest to to be worthy of it. 

The arms around his waist moved up to curve around his back. Silently, Ezio buried his face in the crook of his neck. Hands clung to the back of his doublet, fisting in the coarse material as if it’d pull him closer. Leonardo wrapped his own arms around Ezio’s shoulders. He let out a sigh at the contact. 

“Ezio?”

His reply was soft, muffled. “Please don’t move, let us stay like this a little longer.”

Leonardo hummed, and in his arms he could feel Ezio’s body relax, reassured. This wasn’t the moment for words, they had time for that later. There was no need to rush any of this. 

The day’s sunlight had begun to fade, but Leonardo thought the world had never looked brighter. 

If the past few years had shown him anything, it was that nothing was certain. Nothing was promised, and opportunities moved as unpredictability as sparrows on a windy summer’s day. Maybe it was naive, overwhelmingly hopeful thinking — encouraged by the warmth of Ezio’s embrace — but more than anything else, this felt like it would last.

Ezio felt like coming home.

[gorbalsvampire]

The Longest Night

The nights are drawing in. Which has its drawbacks, like only seeing daylight through a window and freezing my tits off unless I get a lift home after class, but it has its advantages. Like overlapping sleep schedules finally getting to meet in the middle.

Dorian’s up when I come home, and with a student — last one of the year, I hope. I can hear them as I come up the stairs, some notes falling pretty-OK-by-my-old-standards, which is why I know it’s a student, because by my new standards, it’s not flawless and I know it’s not Dorian.

So I walk down the hall and take off my shoes by undoing the laces, like a civilised human being, and don’t just kick ‘em off and punt ‘em ahead of me like usual, and I let myself into the kitchenette through the other door, and I fix myself a cold drink even though I’m dying for something hot. Cohabitation is a million little sacrifices, day by day. But I sit there and I drink my juice and I can’t help but smile as they play on together, more familiar and confident fingers taking the lead, sketching the shape of the song with ninety years of practiced confidence, then backing off to let their student try and fill in the colour.

It’s still late. I zone out a little, and I don’t hear the doors click and swing, and I never hear Dorian walking unless they want to be heard. The next thing I know, D’s arms are burrowed under mine and they’re hugging me from the back.

“Thank you,” they say, and I wriggle around and take advantage of dating a shortass, planting a kiss on their forehead, just under their hairline. It’s cold, but after a walk in the dark at the ass end of December, so am I. “Rough day at the office?”

“’Tis the season of goodwill to all men,” I say back, “which does not extend to the girl behind the counter, apparently.”

“People can be so awful,” they tell me, giving a little tch of a breath. I must look worse than I think I do, because they squint up at me through those round dorky frames and say: “Sit thee down and tell me all thy troubles, darling.”

I flop down on the armchair facing the window and, while they fuss about in the kitchen, clattering about looking for the samovar and making everything just so, I let out the top twenty per cent of what’s hacking me off, starting with the racist sack of shit who’d insisted I’d bitched her out in ‘Paki’ — and it’s the laziness that really hurts, like she didn’t care enough to tell brown people apart — and working down my naughty list.

By the fourth entry, D’s sitting in my lap and stroking my hair and nodding at every “and another thing”, and when I’m done with the guy who spent ten minutes asking who owned the people who made everything on the shelves and didn’t even spend folding money, they nuzzle into my neck, just under the jaw on the left hand side, which is like an invisible switch that makes me lose all motor control, power of speech and basic dignity in one go.

“Better?” asks D, and I say something like “magurglesnorf” and then “you bastard” and then “a bit.” And then, because I am a good girlfriend, despite the rumours, I realise what’s going on here.

“You’ve not had breakfast, have you?”

“Stefan’s been for his jabs, so I told him cash was fine.”

“You’re a beastly little parasite,” I say, trying to pitch it like they do, that airy-fairy old-young lilt.

“I’ll make you dinner. Poulet yassa. Cross my heart.” Their tongue flickers across their lips, their front teeth, and my neck’s still tingling from a moment ago and I’m not quite as tired as I thought I was, not any more.

“… I stand by what I just said,” I say, “but I love you for it.”

And Dorian nuzzles into my neck again, meticulously kissing back and forth, two little pinpricks probing for a safe spot, and I shut my eyes and brace myself for a cool sharp scratch that makes me shiver right down to my bones.

They don’t take much. A juice box or so’s worth. A love bite that leaves a bruise — I’ll have to wear a high collar tomorrow — and a little cut that’ll be closed by midnight. Dorian rocks back and forth on my lap, kisses my throat again, and whispers another “thank you” into my ear.

Like I said. A million little sacrifices. But it’s worth it.

it's PWYW and my rent's due in a week. just sayin'.

[gpedia]

Lonely Memories

87 year old Sameera walked slowly up the alpine trail, before resting painfully against a large rock. Time had certainly treated her well, she mused. All her friends had stayed behind at the lodge, much too frail to attempt the climb to their yesteryear playfield.

As she leaned back and gazed at the sky, memories long forgotten came flooding back.

She had moved into this quaint little valley in the foothills when she was five, staying with her aging grandmother. She was a quiet, shy girl, then, never talking to the other village kids or mingling in any way. She first made the climb to the lowest meadow when she was seven, mostly looking for a place away from the noisy confines of the village. The meadow had been in full bloom then, as it was now, a carpet of reds, blues, and grays covering the field. It was also there she had first met Rudra, a pale scrawny kid with eyes the colour of nightshade. It had been he who had finally dragged her out of her shell, making her talk and laugh.

“You have a sweet laugh, Sam. You should let it out more.”

For months he had been her only friend, as she still refused to play in the streets. Then, one day, he showed up with another girl, dark as he was pale, with gray eyes the colour of yarrow flowers, and pearly white teeth nearly always showing through her grin.

“Sam, meet Nii! Nii, this is that will o’ the wisp I told you about, calls herself Sameera.”

“Hi! My name’s actually Indraa, but you can call me Nii, Everyone else does. Come on down, I’ll race you to the square!”

She slowly got to know the rest of the village kids, though the names and faces mixed in the head; Robert, Khanna, Miya, Suresh, Suryaa, Saaryu, Chandra… but Rudra and Nii were always closest to her.

Soon, no matter the challenge, she and Rudra were neck and neck at conquering it, and beating each other. One or the other was always first in class, with the other a close second; fastest runner, their competition extended even to such petty matters as who collected the most flowers for Nii on her birthday. Sameera smiled, remembering how she had barely beat Rudra on that one, pulling the rose out of her hairband.

No surprise then, when she found she had a knack for drawing in 11 grade, and Rudra none, he must needs show her up by learning to play the flute so well, nightingales sang duets with him.

The meadow was still her haven of choice, and she spent long hours sketching scenes from the field, Rudra and Nii were almost always there, when they weren’t off wandering alone together, him above her on a branch, teasing the birds with his flute, her lying in the grass at her feet. She spent more time talking to them than any actual drawing, really.

Sameera blinked, and sat up. The sun was overhead now, and she had spent nearly an hour sitting here.

“Hey, Sam.”

She looked up and saw Nii standing over her, a sad smile playing on her face.

“Scoot over, I’m not as young as I used to be, and my legs are tired.”

“Finally worked up the strength to come up here, huh?”

Looking at Nii now, in her mourning clothes, Sam was reminded of the last time she had stood on this meadow – Rudra and Nii had gotten married right here, sixty three years ago. She had been maid of honour. She had left for the States shortly after, pursuing a Creative Arts course in Carnegie.

“I still miss him, so much, Sam.”

Nii was at the brink of tears, her gray eyes stormy and dark. Sameera reached over and squeezed her hand.

“So do I, Nii… Come on, let’s go over.”

At least Rudra got to rest now, where they had had so much fun together. She got up and helped Nii to her feet, and they walked over to the old spruce they had spent so much time around. They buried his ashes at its feet.

“Goodbye, Rudra.”

[mimssides]

Life on Crow Avenue : Part 31

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___

The soft buzzing on Remus’s back was what kept him from going insane at this point. Maybe it was also the thing that pushed him closer to insanity. Maybe it was both actually. Most likely it was both actually.

He didn’t think that the pain would be this excruciating. It was just one fucking needle! He never had a problem getting his shots and even when he pricked himself with a needle or pin while sewing, it never really bothered him.

Another nasty pick got him and he could feel his foot twitch and bitterly bit down on the towel Patton had given him at the start of today’s session. Apparently, he didn’t want to wait and give it to him after twenty minutes into the session after cursing the universe in creatively colourful ways, as he had done a day ago.

Remus would probably be a little embarrassed if he weren’t desperately trying to hold back tears. In a horny and quite delusional fantasy of his, this had been much sexier and kinkier than it was. But really; Lying on his back, helpless, completely at Patton’s mercy, who was transforming his appearance permanently, had sounded so delicious in his head.

What a pity it was that the pain he was experiencing from getting a tattoo, didn’t spark any lust or passion in the room. It was more of a mood killer if Remus was honest with himself.

“You’re doing really good bud! I’m almost done,” Patton said cheerfully.

Remus groaned as positively as he could with the towel between his teeth and tried to relax a little. Patton was doing an amazing job so far. After seeing the outline he had done yesterday, he’d almost forgotten how much the whole thing hurt. He couldn’t wait for it to be done so he could see the whole picture coming together on his back. Having a sketch was one thing, but seeing it finished like this was a whole other ordeal. He hadn’t expected it to feel as emotional as it did. Of course, the motive meant worlds to him, of course, this had been the first thing in years he actually sketched out and cleaned up properly, and of course, it was a motive that connected him and Roman deeply.

Maybe he should have expected to feel this emotional after all.

“Alright-y! You can stop biting on your towel now! This is it,” Patton announced and pulled Remus out of his thoughts. “Let me cool the whole thing for a sec before you can look at it and I can wrap it after that, ‘kay?”

“Yeah...” Remus groaned as sat up ever so slowly while Patton moved by beside him.

His back muscles twitched and it burned for a second before the relief of finally moving into a new position set in. He let out a long breath and then looked around for Patton. It was only the second time that he was in the small studio but he already knew the layout of it. Not that it was hard, but spacial awareness could be a bitch and the way this place worked, just made sense in Remus’s head. It probably had also helped that Patton had shown him everything yesterday when he had realized how nervous Remus actually was for the whole thing. Not that Remus had doubted his decision, he had been and still was certain that this was what he wanted to be permanently on his body.

Yet the unknown factors of pain and possibilities for infection or even scarring had been flying around in his mind and it helped to at least have some certainty of knowing what was around him and how he could react to it. It helped to calm one buzzing faction of his mind and that was nice.

Seeing Patton’s face again was also nice. The pastel punk reappeared from behind the colourful room divider (it had a plain white base and was covered with hundreds of scrap papers with sketches and designs on it) and held a shallow bucket filled with water in his hands. He smiled gently and carefully sat the bucket next to Remus.

“Okay, I’m gonna cool it and then dry you. The bleeding is pretty minimal again, so that’s really good. You’ve got a great back to work on!” he praised easily and took out the towel from the bucket.

Warmth spread in Remus’s chest while Patton began to tap his back down. His movements were slow and soft. He glimpsed into the mirror at the side and watched how focused Patton was on him, how gracious he moved and how a few hair strands had fallen out of his bun and hung lazily in front of his forehead.

Gasping Remus closed his eyes as Patton got to a spot close to his spine. Patton chuckled lightly and tapped the same spot a little gentler.

“You’re some sort of fae, Moore,” Remus mumbled between his teeth. “Seriously, your touch has to be magical. Like, I did not enjoy being pierced by a needle like Caesar by his senators, but these hands on my back right now have to be worth the gruesome death of a corrupt statesman.”

Remus hadn’t really wanted to say any of that but the words were just coming. It was so easy for Remus to just let things out with Patton around. He made it so easy to feel safe and understood by him. He hoped that Patton felt that way around him too. At least a little.

Behind him, Patton was grinning. He hadn’t expected that Remus would be so sensitive to the pain but then again he has seen bigger and stronger men cry on this chair. Remus’s reaction was still pretty average in Patton’s experience and yet he couldn’t help himself but find it a little amusing. He could still hear Remus saying to him that he could handle some pain and how fast he had changed his tone once he had gotten closer to the spine area.

Swiftly he put the wet towel back in the bucket and grabbed the paper roll on his side table: “I’m going to dry you down now. Also, I hope that the piece you’ve designed will please you as much as it pleases me. It’s looking marvellous if I may say so.”

Laughter shook Remus’s chest and Patton’s heart eased at the sound of it. There were few things that could lighten up his mood as quickly as Remus’s laughter (or Logan’s snicker) could.

“Not so humble now, are we? Praising your work like that is a show of quite an ego,” Remus joked and groggily tried to look over his shoulder to catch Patton’s eyes.

Patton amused shook his head and replied: “I think my work looks decent now, but I was talking about the design. It’s one of the best I’ve seen in the past few years. Maybe even since I’ve started tattooing.”

Remus squeaked theatrically. Laughing Patton put the paper towels down and stepped in front of Remus.

“Don’t say things like that so casually! I haven’t drawn anything for ages, it can’t be that much better than other stuff you’ve seen or done yourself.”

“But it is. Let me show you,” Patton said and motioned Remus to get down from the bed.

Huffing Remus hopped down and followed Patton in front of the mirror. Just like yesterday, he stood still with his back turned towards the mirror. Patton got the bigger hand mirror he had to let Remus see his reflection in the big one and Remus’s breath hitched.

The outline on its own had looked promising, but this was something entirely else. Thousands of little dots making up a picture by being differently spaced away from each other. Making up a pointy cliff with a ragged lighthouse on it. Waves crashed over each other and onto the cold stone. The strike of lightning in the background, which divided the picture just over his spine and broke through the diamond shape of the motive.

Baffled Remus looked over his shoulder directly into the mirror. Patton placed his hand gently on his shoulder and Remus felt himself shiver.

“That’s what I was talking about,” Patton said quietly looking into the mirror with him and catching his gaze in the reflection. “Tattoos don’t need to be deep and meaningful to look pretty. They just need to make you happy. But there are some which are deeply connected to our core in some way and it shows. I don’t know what this lighthouse means to you, but I know that this composition is intertwined with who you were, who you saw in yourself and who you want to be. And I think that’s really neat.”

Wordlessly Remus nodded. He seemed overwhelmed and Patton easily divided his attention away from all of that and asked him if he could take a picture for his wall before he was going to wrap him up. Remus let him do so and after Patton had finished, sat carefully onto his waiting chair. He was still as a statue while Patton cleaned up. Out of the corner of his eye, Patton kept glancing at him, making sure that he wasn’t missing something going down with his friend until he was finally done with getting everything in order.

At a slow pace, Patton approached him from the side, trying to see if he was taking note of his presence. He was about seven feet away from him when Remus finally lifted his gaze from the floor and vaguely looked in Patton’s direction.

“Hey there bud. How are ya’?”

A long breath. Gentle nodding.

“I’m okay. Weird. But okay, I think.”

Patton stretched his hand out for him. Gingerly Remus took it.

“That sounds about right,” Patton told him and helped him onto his feet. “Would you like to keep me a little company? I’d love to have you over a little longer. And I’ve still got that funky verveine tea if you’d like.”

A sheepish smile and a nod later and Patton lead Remus up to his apartment after the poor guy had painfully slowly put on a shirt. Upstairs Patton offered him to sit on a stool but Remus took one of the chairs and sat backwards on it, so he could rest his chest against the back lean. Casually Patton began to work on the tea. He could sense Remus looking around and was relieved that with Logan’s help he had cleaned up his flat over the past two weeks. It had been small chunks but like that he had managed to do it without feeling too overwhelmed.

As the water boiled in the kettle, Patton put a plate with cookies on the table. Remus confusedly looked at it, as if it had appeared out of thin air and then glanced up to Patton who was giving him a worried look back.

“I really would like to know how you manage to just bounce back like this. It’s as if you’re just okay again...”

Remus didn’t sound jealous. He didn’t look jealous either. Those dark brown eyes of his were focused on Patton, filled helpless wonder tinted with a pinch of desperation. The kettle whistled and Patton got it off the heating station and poured their tea. He set the egg-shaped egg timer to five minutes and carried both cups to the table and sat one down in front of Remus and the other in front of his seat. He got a little plate for the tea bags and the egg timer and sat down.

Calmly Patton looked to the living room. The glass table had been replaced with a wicker one. He had rearranged the knick-knacks on the TV table and looked right at a picture frame. Remus followed his gaze and saw the brown-haired woman in a yellow summer dress with puffed sleeves. From the distance, it was hard to see, but her eyes were a greyish blue and her smile was wide and open. A person with invited anybody in and let them be themselves whatever that meant.

“I didn’t.”

Immediately Remus turned his face to look at Patton only to find that the man had already been looking at him.

“I didn’t just bounce back,” Patton said solemnly and took the egg timer in his hands to fiddle with it. “I’ve been doing this for ten years. I had a session with my therapist again the week after her anniversary. I got Lo to help me around here. And I remind myself that this might or more likely will happen again. And that that’s okay. That I’ll get through this. I’ve dropped out of college and still managed to get a job with which I can support myself. I’ve got my heart broken by a guy or a dozen and fell in love again despite it. Moments can be hard and unbelievably painful but they pass. As everything does.”

The egg timer rang and Patton fished his and Remus’s teabags out of their cups. In silence they let the tea sit. Patton leaned over his cup and his glasses fogged up. He scrunched his nose and took the glasses off to clean the lenses with his t-shirt. He had circles under his eyes but they had lessened over the past week. At least a little.

“I’ve learned,” Patton said and paused to stop the trembling in his voice, “I’ve learned that endings are ultimate and irreversible. You die and go to heaven or hell and that’s it. There are no grey areas, no margin of error or room to discuss.”

Steadily he picked up his cup of tea and took a sip. It burned his tongue and he found himself smiling again. He directed it toward Remus.

“But there is. And that makes everything much more complicated than I first thought. Good and bad is a relative spectrum, subjective and changes when you ask different people with different contexts. This means you can’t be “good” for everybody. To some people, you will always be too flawed, too broken. No matter how hard you try you’ll never be able to please everybody.”

Patton’s glasses lay in front of him and his hands were folded behind them. He inhaled freely and closed his eyes.

“But everybody isn’t who counts. Those who consider meeting me as something good, are those who count. To those, I made a difference. For those, I try to accept that sometimes I’m not good enough for myself but I still need to try. If I can’t do it for myself I do it for my dad. For Logan. For you. For the others. Not always but sometimes it helps to remember myself that even if I can’t believe that I have worth, others do. And who am I to doubt your faith?”

The frame temples clacked against each other when Patton picked them up. He set them back on his nose with both hands. As he did the light falling through the window behind him got a little brighter as a cloud moved by and a faint glow settled around his face. It was as if a light buzz cradled his silhouette. Between a stack of last week's papers, his still steaming teacup and a plate of chocolate cookies, Patton with his plain black long-sleeved shirt, slightly messy hair and a crooked grin, completed an image of human divinity.

To Remus at least it was one of the most divine things he had seen in his life, maybe ever. Stuck with awe he grunted and laughed before he finally reached for his tea and took a sip.

“Motherbitch! That shit’s hot!” he shouted at the hot beverage.

Patton burst into laughter and Remus joined after he had placed the cup back on the table. The atmosphere grew softer. Patton transitioned to explain to Remus exactly how to take care of the tattoo for the second time in two days and Remus made himself some notes on his phone. They ate the cookies and drank their tea while their conversation shifted to Roman spending this Halloween evening with Janus and Virgil and eventually decided to order out some takeout when evening approached.

Waiting for their kebabs they decided to get change spots from the table over to the couch and turned on Dirty Dancing so Patton could actually see it in one piece this time. A few minutes in Remus tapped Patton’s shoulder to get his attention. Patton looked and Remus laid his hand on Patton’s thigh.

“Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me today. And also I’m sorry,” Remus said.

Patton furrowed his brows and said: “You don’t need to be sorry. You’re not responsible for the things that happened to me.”

“No, I’m not,” Remus conceded, “but I assumed that you were okay just because things were looking up again. I should know better than that. Just because someone looks like they’re doing better doesn’t mean they actually are. There are a lot of fucking layers to us all. We’re fleshy onions and peeling us is a nightmare.”

Surprised by the last imagery Patton panic giggled and Remus snickered and softly nudged his shoulder against Patton. With the doorbell ringing, the topic was dropped and they ate their kebabs as Baby and Johnny started to get closer. When the abortion part came on, Patton needed to stop the movie for a moment and the two stepped out to smoke a cigarette together before they went back in to finish the movie.

It wasn’t late yet but Remus had to head home to the cats and packed his things together. Biding each other good night at Patton’s front door, Remus paused and shuffled on the spot. Rolling his shoulders he straightened up and put his hands in his pockets.

“On the 2nd Ro and I usually celebrate Dià de Muertos and I wanted to ask if you and Lo if you wanted to have dinner with me? I haven’t asked him yet and I know it’s kinda short notice but I thought I’d ask anyway,” he finally said and waited for Patton’s answer expectantly.

“Yeah, sure! I’d love to. I’m sure Roman is going to invite Janus and Virgil as well?”

Remus cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head before he said: “No, Ro’s not gonna be there. He’s going on a date and we celebrate midday and stuff. It would just be us three. I - I actually prefer it that way so I can, like, say thank you and shit. Privately.”

Patton blinked. He felt his cheeks warm up and coughed nervously into his hand, hiding a giddy smile behind it. Remus shuffled some more on his feet and Patton realized that he wasn’t able to tell what his reaction actually was, lowered his hand and smiled carefully.

“I’d like that. Though there are no thanks you need to give me. Just spending time with you and Lo, if he wants to, is gonna be fun.”

At that Remus cautiously returned the smile and replied: “Yeah, yeah. I think it will be fun too. So, uh. 7 pm on Monday? I’ll tell you if Lo comes and in case I need to move the time or something. Good?”

“Great! Uh, should I bring something?”

“Nah, you’re pretty ass is more than enough, Poppy.”

Patton blushed and Remus could feel himself getting flustered. With a wink and a laugh, he said goodbye and left. The short walk over to his block wasn’t long enough for his beating heart to cool down but he didn’t mind.

If Logan said “yes”, he could tell them on Monday. He would tell them on Monday if everything was going right. And somehow that thought didn’t seem as daunting as it used to in the past few months.

___

@vexelore

@exhaustedfander

@alexisrealgay

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

@winter-jay-official

@a-ghostlight-for-roman

@mychemically-imbalanced-romance

@whattheremus

@regalredrose

@spellingwillbethedeathofme

@sarenicide

LoCA

@arodynamic-enby

@espepspes

@bullet-tothefeels

@fukindork

@shadeofadye

@magic-but-its-green

@simonekkt

@tlhrfanfic

[twoshipsnorowboat]

Your art style is a bloody DELIGHT - I was curious if you had any inspirations for it you'd be open to sharing? It's such a lovely balance between the whimsy of animation while still being fantastic likenesses of the characters the art is based on and it's everything I hope I'll be able to do one day myself (but I'm still VERY early on in practicing drawing).

HI. HI. YOU. YOU MADE MY DAY. WTF. WTF.

A more coherent answer:

First off, thank you so fucking much for liking my art style!!! It’s always a fucking battle and I am never certain of how I feel about it. Often, it kind of seems like I don’t have as cohesive a style as I should—so seeing this was such a shock. Thank you you fucking godsend

In terms of inspirations, a shit ton? Haha not very helpful. I started off drawing really loving burdge-art’s style and there’s a bit of their style influence on me. That said, at the same time, I was learning traditional art as well, so I learned a lot about capturing likenesses and proportions and such there. (FYI this was…6 years ago? Haha yeah. Drawing is a fucking process and it’s one that’s most appreciated as a craft rather than one where the finished product is perfect, so just general advice for not losing your mind: don’t be too hard on yourself for not getting something right in the final draft of your artwork. Note it, figure out how to improve it, then start the next project. It happens, it’s part of the process.)

When capturing someone’s likeness, I like to do a sheet of just studies first. First off, get a bunch of reference pics. People look different in different angles and the way their eye looks on one angle doesn’t quite match up to how they look another angle. Give everything a good study. I then *gasp* trace a source image. Probably not the best practice, but it familiarizes me with the shapes of the person. (FYI I’m in “tracing is amazing for practice but never claim that’s your own art” camp.) Then, I close the trace, do a redraw of the same picture but with only references. And then I draw a bunch of other poses. Everyone has a different process but this really works for me.

The reason why you want to do a version post-trace (aside from good practice) is because the trace looks…off. Real world lines don’t really convert very well to art lines. The sketch version has a stronger sense of 3D and structure. It doesn’t feel as wishy-washy as the trace. This is the place where art style begins to show because this is where you start to “condense” and take out parts of the original photo you don’t want to express. The sketch loses accuracy, but that’s where style develops. (In this one, I do think the eyes are a bit far apart. I’d fix that when I do the next sketch!)

The faint red lines behind the sketch is my shape layer. Highly recommend this. It helps everything set into place!

Okay, back to inspirations. Generally I am really drawn to art with strong fluidity and mood. Pencil sketches, oils, ink and watercolour, animators’ sketches, etc. I love love love nephrosoupp, holly warburton, chopinspree, and nobodyanybody0 (now nbgpart!)’s art. They have such a great cohesion to the works as well as fluidity and colour, and it’s like, how are they so good?

My current colouring style is influenced by traditional coloured pencil art, hence the line-y look. I’m working on incorporating some high-contrast into the style (ex. using blue as shade colours when base is yellow, etc.) but, as with all art, it’s a Fucking Process.

Hope the ramble was a decent read, and a giant fucking thank you once again for making my fucking day.

[elizabethospeaks]

CW this is a huge ramble but this is a blogging platform so I’m just going to ADHD my thoughts everywhere

I've been thinking a lot about 'artistic talent' recently and what it means to me.

As a kid, I don't know; I wasn't what I'd call naturally gifted with art? Right from age 5 up to my early teens - I loved art, I drew constantly, I wanted so badly to be good at art. I grew up without a computer or art programs for the most part, partly because of how old I am and partly because we didn't have a lot of money. My parents could afford paper and cheap art materials, but that was about it - definitely no time or money for any kind of formal training.

There were kids in my first art classes with way better technical skills, better knowledge of anatomy and proportions, lighting etc etc. But I never got the impression they were as passionate about it as I was.

My first art teacher only seemed to have time for his male students that had those technical skills. I remember very vividly watching him enthuse over my male friends work, holding it up for the rest of the class to see - and me just sitting opposite him, drawing my heart out desperately, producing and producing and trying my best just desperately craving that same attention.

But he never had much time for me despite how obviously enthusiastic I was. Even when I assertively asked for his feedback, he was overly critical and just seemed frustrated by what I interpreted as this lack of innate talent some of my peers had. He never actually taught me much.

My disabilities held me back too - my undiagnosed ADHD made art tutorials I found online dull and difficult to follow. My perfectionism made creating even more frustrating (any other ADHDers with the irony of also being a perfectionist as you miss out glaring details as you’re rushing to finish something?). As online communities became more accessible I tried to join them and befriend other artists; but my skills were juvenile and frankly, I was super young and super annoying, so I didn’t get much of the creative community and feedback I craved a lot. When we did have a computer at home I could use, we couldn’t afford any digital art programs or tools, I just drew with a mouse in MSPaint and did so for a long long time. If I wanted to do lineart, eventually I started sketching on paper, scanning it in, and then painstakingly cleaned it up by erasing with a mouse so I could colour it.

I did befriend one artist eventually, who is still my friend today - she’s a little older than me and is incredibly technically talented. Her dad had art skills himself and taught her, and these days she’s won awards for her wildlife illustrations. She tried to help me and taught me more in one lesson on lighting and shading than my art teacher had done in 2 years. But comparison is the thief of joy and I just felt mournful comparing my art to hers. What was the point in trying to be an artist if I was never going to reach that level of skill?

Now I’m older I realise more where my friends skill came from. Her dad never had much time for her - but he would spend time with her and talk to her about her art. He was very overly critical to his own child and she so badly wanted to get his approval and spend time with him that she channelled absolutely everything into her art. But that never occurred to me when I was younger - I didn’t think about the lack of opportunities I’d had, or the circumstances of the artists I envied for being so much better than I was. I just felt so incredibly hopeless, disappointed and frustrated at myself.

Eventually that all stopped me from creating art entirely, for years. I just gave up. I didn’t start trying to create art again until very recently, a few years ago; after I finally managed to escape an abusive relationship and used my creative skills to help me work through what I now know was the beginning of my PTSD.

I guess the point of me writing this other than just wanting to purge my thoughts, is the hope that maybe somebody else might read this and see their own fraught experience with creating reflected in my own journey, and feel a little less alone. Sometimes it’s easy to think other creatives have a journey of sunshine and rainbows, but mine has been anything but.

I still struggle with a lot of these feelings - I still feel as though I’m lacking some magical spark of illusive 🌟tALEnt✨. It’s all been made worse by the many, many years where I just didn’t draw at all out of hopelessness and shame, and therefore fell even further behind where I feel I should be by now. But I managed to get that passion back and I use that to keep myself going; I remind myself all the time of how much I lost in those years where I just gave up. I constantly drive myself to improve and try to ignore how small my follower count and notes are. It’s still frustrating, still disheartening at times. But I’ve come so far and intend to keep going further ♥

[jade-green-butterfly]

SURPRISE~!! 💓✨=^0^=✨💓Here is the project I was working on over Christmas and wished to surprise you all with, finally completed~! 8D✨ Remember my Trolls OC, Harmonia who I created in Azalea's Pixie Scene back in 2020? :3 -> https://jade-green-butterfly.tumblr.com/post/617197905747542016/jade-green-butterfly-welp-its-officialive Well, I also sketched her in SAI, Trolls Movie style around that time but never really got round to bringing her fully to life, so the poor lass has been sitting in my WIPs...D8...until now that is~! OvO Behold, my dears...Trolls Movie style Harmonia - Spirit & Goddess Of Harmony, in all her elegant glory~💝Doesn't she look beautiful~??😍😍😍 Gorgeous, even?!💖///w///💖Hehe...don't mean to brag but I've always said I amaze myself whenever I draw pieces like this and I feel I've really outdone myself, but in a good way~ >u< I tell you, I am absolutely proud and dead chuffed of how of all Harmonia turned out! n//o//n 💗 💘 Especially with her over all design and how I've posed her hands to play her harp~✨🎵 The only changes I made, compared to the first design in the doll maker is that I added another skirt symbolizing the Techno genre colour and I added a circlet of the main six genre colours, to make Harmonia's hair stand out more🌈 ^.^ And you cannot see it, but she is also wearing her legendary bracelet (the same one my trollsona wears) in the same place on her right ankle, under her skirt c: And if you're wondering what the green colour symbolizes, hence in her hair, the butterfly markings around her eyes and the string in her harp - it symbolizes peace and Harmony itself~💚 Here's some interesting facts about Harmonia: 🌈 Harmonia was a master of all six music genres and in my stories, is worshipped and looked up to by Trolls Kingdom as their Goddess & Spirit Of Harmony~ She watches over all and listens to her people's prayers in hopes of answering them well. 🌈 Harmonia was like the motherly figure and guardian to the tribes' ancestors all those years ago. And even though she vanished when they all went their separate ways, Harmonia still watched over them from above. 🌈 Harmonia could heal any injury or wound with her singing voice. When she sung a specific soothing tune, the crystal beads of her bracelet would glow and colourful wisps would appear, surrounding the injury or wound until it was completely healed. 🌈 Whenever me and Harmonia feel sadness together, we can also cry rainbow tears, which are luminous and can heal too but not as strongly. 🌈 With a gentle touch, Harmonia could restore life into any wilting plant, including dead trees and even help seeds grow and cacti bloom, making them flourish stronger than they ever could. Some say even flowers grew wherever she walked. 🌈 Even though I am my own troll, Harmonia's spirit lives within me. And representing her role as the Trolls' goddess, I learn and possess the same powers and abilities as she has - such as healing, restoring life, projecting colourful shields and mastering all of the main six music genres. 🌈 Like me with her powers and abilities, whenever Harmonia got angry or upset in serious situations, her eyes would glow a pure white with a light hint of jade green and her urge to protect all around her, would increase. Hope you all like too, my lovelies~! *cuddles*👍✨💕 I really enjoyed finally bringing Harmonia fully to life at long last and I must say, it was totally all worth it too! ;D 💞✌💗 xxx. Harmonia The Spirit & Goddess Of Harmony (c) @jade-green-butterfly​ (Me~!) Trolls/Trolls World Tour (c) DreamWorks Animation

[thebeebi]

your little games pt. 10

pairing: Jungkook x reader

warnings: fluff in later chapters, smut, non-con, mention of r*pe attempt, implied murder and many more! Read only if you are okay with these topics!

genre: historical AU, 18th century?

word count: 3.3k+ [part 10] 

a/n: Hello hello wonderful people! I am sorry for the long wait! Thank you for wonderful messages for my birthday, I really appreciate it. ♥ I am back with a new chapter for the series after a week. It has been a long wait but I think you might like this chapter because in the last one and in this one we can see Jungkook’s character slowly developing. 

taglist: @njrwifey​ @danietoww04​  @kaithezaftig​​  [If you want to be added, just let me know :)]

You ran away from the man who tried to take an advantage of you. You stabbed him and escaped. Escaped to the arms of the handsome captain who was even worse than the man you just killed.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9

You were sitting in the carriage silently, looking out of the window. At that moment, it did not matter that Jungkook was in a mad mood and was watching you. “When did he ask for your hand in marriage?” You did not look at him even though you knew he was pointing that question at you. “After I met you. We knew each other even before.” You answered. Jungkook frowned and was quiet for a while. Once he spoke up, it was evident in his tone of voice, that he was irritated. “Would you have married him, if you were still a virgin?” You turned your head to him looking into his eyes knowing that you should not lie to him. “I have no inheritance. His parents would disagree with the marriage because of it. I would not be able to do so.”

“You are not mentioning love.” Jungkook started slowly. You looked down at your hands that were holding each other. “Love has no place in marriage.” You admitted bitterly. “Marriages are for profits and benefits. The lovers are looking for happiness and love in the green grass. They throw away the caution so they could have each other at that moment. I do not understand them.” Jungkook was watching you. “Now I see… you were never in love before and you were never tempted to feel like that. You are too innocent when it comes to love. You are untouched in that area.” He scoffed. You looked up at him, staring into his eyes. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” You replied quickly. “I am not a virgin. What you are saying does not make sense.” Jungkook laughed at your cluelessness. “It almost sounds like you are asking me to teach you what it is. But that would mean I might make you feel happy but you have to pay for what you and your companion did to me.” You glared at him. “I still have no idea what you are talking about.” You looked away while Jungkook was still watching you. “And you are making no sense. I have nothing to do with what they did. Do I have to repeat it for you?”

“Oh please, save it.” He sighed and looked out of the carriage that was slowly going towards the shop of the dressmaker. “I don’t need your lies anyway.” He mumbled but loud enough for you to hear it. “LIES?” You turned your whole body to him, almost ready to jump on him. “Who are you to say that?” Jungkook suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you closer. “Calm down, Y/N. You are having an attitude and I don’t like that.” He warned you. You gulped dryly when he bore his dark eyes into yours. It made you forget the reason you were mad and you looked down. I need to learn how to control myself. “I am sorry.” You whispered. You hated yourself for actually apologizing and that you were such a coward. Any other woman would scream at him, scratch him or in the worst-case scenario, slap him but you could not imagine yourself hurting him, not because you pitied him but because you were worried about what he might do to you.

Jungkook let go of you with a smirk after seeing you apologize and admit the defeat. “You should think before speaking, little one. Otherwise, you will get tired of saying sorry so often.”  You pulled away from him, trying to sit further, in the opposite corner of him. Once you were in a safe distance, you murmured. “It is hard to bite my tongue when you are insulting me.” You sighed and continued. “You are hurting my pride and destroying my self-esteem.” Jungkook cocked his head to the side. “I never said I would not do that. I am not going to let you have any of that.” He looked away from you, watching the world moving from the window. “I told you what you could expect. Did you think I was lying to you?” You shook your head and suddenly a lone tear fell on your hand, followed by the others. You wiped them hastily and Jungkook did not even turn around to see you. He just cursed underneath his nose and pulled out the handkerchief, giving it to you. “There you go,” said Jungkook. “You will need it. And if you intend on crying so often, I recommend you to get your own. It is irritating me that I don’t have mine when I need it.”

“Okay, Jungkook.” You whispered softly, too afraid to remind him that you do not own anything, not even a handkerchief. During the rest of the route, Jungkook was staring out of the window without speaking a word. The carriage was filled with chilling silence and it made you feel even tenser than usually. When you finally arrived, Mrs Dubois was waiting in front of her shop with a huge smile on her lips. Captain Jeon looked like a rich man to her, the type of man who would spend a fortune on his mistresses. Well, that was her first impression of him when he went there for the first time to buy you the dresses you never got to wear before you ran away. To Mrs Dubois, Jungkook looked like a man who knows how to treat his women and since she was still quite young, she knew how to appreciate him. When Jungkook helped you down of the carriage, you placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself once your feet touched the ground. He took the cloak off your shoulders and Mrs Dubois looked at the red dress you were wearing. She smiled satisfied, knowing that her work was just made for you and no other woman would as good in this dress.

Mrs Dubois was really curious about the woman when Jungkook was buying such a small dress. She never got to meet you until now. She assumed Jungkook found some kind of mistress and now brought her – you, to her shop. She looked you up and down until her eyes landed on your golden ring. “Madam Dubois, let me introduce you to my wife,” She looked at Jungkook confused but before she could say anything, she stopped herself knowing that it was not the best choice. She heard many of her female clients talk about captain Jeon and how they wished to be in his bed and she honestly wanted that too, never thinking about the possibility of him being married. “Mrs Jeon, it is a pleasure to meet you. I have seen numerous women who wanted to get your husband in their bed, but I gotta say, none of them was as beautiful as you.” Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows at the unnecessary remarks but continued. “My wife needs a few dresses, madam.” The woman suddenly realised the mistake she made and stepped back looking at Jungkook quickly. “Oui, sir, let’s go inside.“ She was aware that men don’t like to share much about their love life even more in front of their wives but she completely forgot this fact even while looking at the ring on your finger.

The three of you walked inside and you made your way towards the colourful materials that would be later used for making dresses. Jungkook made his way towards the sofa, while she was still staring at you thinking about how petite you were but still elegant and charming. In her eyes, any man would love to get close to you, to touch you, to feel you. No wonder, captain Jeon Jungkook married you. To her, you looked like a match made in heaven. Knowing her place, she sighed and gave up on the thoughts of ever getting close to Jungkook again. She walked towards him, bowing to him while whispering in french since she came from France 3 years ago and opened her shop in this little town. “She is a pure perfection, right sir?” Jungkook was the whole time watching you touching the materials, feeling them wondering how much they would cost you. He did not look back at Mrs Dubois even when she whispered. “Oui, madam. She is heavenly.” Jungkook nodded and spoke in the french back at her.

You turned to both of them, not understanding any of their conversations because languages were not your strongest subject. You weren’t expecting less from Jungkook but him speaking in French surprised you. You sighed and suddenly you realised they acted too close to your liking. To you, it looked like she was just another woman from his list of whores he slept with. You turned and walked to them furiously, mad at Jungkook that he brought you to this shop. When you got too close, the boldness suddenly disappeared and you made a quick turn to the right to look at the easel that was holding the papers with a few sketches of the dress designs. You took it from the easel and started studying it, wanting to distract yourself from the woman and Jungkook behind you. You were looking at the model of the modern dress that had a revealing neckline. Only an easy woman would wear that kind of dress. I don’t like it.

When you finally looked up from the sketch, you found out that there was some strange boy staring at you, who just came into the main room from the small room that was hiding being the curtain. His eyes were hungrily looking you up and down, staying longer on the lowcut neckline of your dress and your bust. Even though you knew you were wearing the dress, under his sight it felt like they were seethrough. He licked his lower lip and started walking towards you. Your eyes widened seeing him and when he started approaching you, you froze in fear. The boy took it as your way of showing him affection, welcoming him. He smiled but it was not his lucky day. Jungkook looked at you noticing the movement in the room and when he saw the young man approaching you, it was the last straw that made Jungkook lose it. At first the kidnappers, then your old love and now this young boy. You are his and not any public spectacle everyone could look at. Jungkook hated whenever other men looked at you.

Jungkook was overtaken by the uncontrollable anger and in a second he was on the opposite side of the room. Once you noticed Jungkook was coming closer, you squealed a little, moving to the side, letting him pass by. Jungkook grabbed the young man’s collar, lifted him from the floor and started shaking him. “You bastard, you dirt from the filthiest ground, I will teach you how to distance yourself from MY wife. Just wait till I am finished with you” Jungkook emphasised the word my through his teeth. The poor man was confused and scared because mad Jungkook was scary even for you but angry Jungkook was something you would never want to meet yourself. You stood there still frozen looking at the situation unfolding in front of you but Mrs Dubois jumped towards Jungkook to grab his hands.

“Sir! Monsieur!” She screamed begging Jungkook to stop. “Monsieur Jeon, I beg you. He is just a child. He did not want to offend you. Please, let him go. I am begging you!” Jungkook took a deep breath and slowly let go of the other male. He still had his jaw clenched. Once he let go of the younger male, Mrs Dubois grabbed the boy angrily and pulled him back behind the curtain cursing at him. You could not see what was happening but a loud slap echoed in the shop and you were sure you heard sobs coming from the boy. You nor Jungkook moved until she came back. “I am sorry, monsieur Jeon,” She bowed and then turned to you. “Madam Jeon, he is my nephew. A stupid child but …” she shrugged and smiled apologetically. “but a pure Frenchman.” She tried to say that was the reason for his action but Jungkook was not having it. He cocked his head to the side staring at the woman who tried to bullshit her way out. Once she noticed Jungkook was not amused by her explanation, she moved closer to you, pulling your hand and making you sit on the sofa, showing you all kinds of sketches of dresses she had.

“Let’s start with materials. I recommend using this one,“ she pointed at the material. “for an everyday type of dresses and then this one,” she pointed at a different kind of material, that was so much softer than the first one underneath your curious fingers. “for special occasions. It is just perfect for your type of skin. It is soft,” The smile you had on your lips while touching it slowly disappeared and you looked away. “It does not matter, madam.” You whispered. “Whatever you pick is fine.” She looked at you confused but then once she met her eyes with Jungkook for approval, she got reminded of how carefully he was choosing material for the undergarment. It had to be the softest sheer silk and it had to be up to his liking. She smiled realising how jealous he is when it comes to you, and she was very well aware of how difficult it is going to be for him when he will have to chase away all of the men that are going to come near you. Your face was showing innocence but also your body was too tempting to resist. She knew Jungkook is going to have a tough time.

“Captain Jeon, could you please take madam to the dressing room so we try on some dresses? I have a few sketches made according to the latest trends.” She turned and disappeared into the back side of the shop. She pulled out the chair asking Jungkook to sit down and then she turned to you. “Madam, if you let me, I will unbutton this and once you take it off, I will measure you.” You did as you were told and the dressmaker started measuring every inch of your body. She told you to spread your arms, to hold your breath and to lift up the soft sating undergarment you were wearing. “Well and now madam, suck in your belly.” Said Mrs Dubois once she put the meter around your hips. You looked at Jungkook who was grinning the whole time and when he noticed your death stares he shrugged satisfied. “I cannot do that.” The woman who was sitting in front of you on her legs was wondering why it was such a problem to do this kind of simple task but then it hit her. She looked up with a smile on her lips. “Madam is expecting a little baby, right?” she asked.

You looked away blushing. “Yes,” The woman turned to look at Jungkook. “That is great! So Monsieur Jeon is a proud dad, right?” Jungkook’s grin grew wider. “Of course, Mrs Dubois.“ She smiled and looked back at you thinking. There is no chance the child is not his. His behaviour and how he admitted that instantly… Well, looks like they are going to be a big family one day. She caressed your belly and stood up. “Well, monsieur, that made me happy. You did not blush nor stuttered when you admitted you were going to be a father. That is good. Very good. No man should be ashamed of what he did.” She looked at you then back at him. “And your wife is going to be the most beautiful, enchanting and charming mother, right monsieur?” Jungkook looked at you and she noticed that his eyes lit up. “Exactly, madam. The most beautiful one.“ He admitted honestly.

Oh, look at him! Though Mrs Dubois with a sigh. He cannot wait to have her in the bed again. The little madam is never going to be without the child in the womb for long. He is not going to get tired of her. Oh, how I wish I could be the one. The woman was thinking about the married couple’s future and how jealous she was of you actually getting him first. “Madam has the body of the goddess. Full bust, narrow middle. She is just made for loving.” You looked down shyly. You felt like a slave that was being sold to some man to offer him pleasure. Mrs Dubois was not talking about the body of just some woman, but yours. She had no right to abase you. You shut your eyes and huffed at her remarks and once you opened your eyes, looking into the mirror, you saw that Jungkook was watching you through it. It almost felt like the time stopped and you could not, nor did you want to move or turn from him. Not even when his eyes moved lower and you were well-aware of his eyes on your clothed breast, you did not move. You knew the material of your undergarment was sheer but you still did not do anything but watch his handsome face.

“I am going to grab the sketches. If your wife wishes to dress up again, I will button her up once I come back,” Said Mrs Dubois and disappeared from the room. You finally moved to grab your dress, breaking eye contact with Jungkook’s face in the mirror. You pulled them up waiting for Mrs Dubois so she could help her, but you looked up once you felt a quick tug on your skirt. Jungkook pulled you closer to him, making you stand in between his thighs. You looked over your shoulder with a slightly opened mouth a wide-opened eyes. Your heart was beating fast, even Jungkook noticed it and laughed a little. “Why are you so scared, my little bunny? I just wanted to help you button them up.“ He turned you around to make you face him and unintentionally your hands went up to cover up your bust. “You don’t need to hide, little one. No one else is going to look at you in here. Only me and my eyes.” You did not breathe because you were scared that if you took a breath your bust would touch his face. He was just too close. “Please,” you whispered. “Madam is going to come back soon,” Jungkook scoffed at your remark. “If you will listen and do so, she will come back to see a loving husband helping his beautiful wife. Or do you want her to see-“ You turned around not letting him continue what he was about to say. Jungkook laughed and while he was buttoning up your dress, Mrs Dubois came back with the sketches. “I brought everything I have. As you will see, you have many to choose from.” The dressmaker cleaned up the small table and put all of her works down. Jungkook sit down and you kneeled down in front of him curiously. Mrs Dubois took that as a cue to push the table closer to you, making you stuck between Jungkook’s thighs and the table.

You started looking through the sketches, falling in love with every one of them but you knew he would not spend such a fortune on you. You stared longingly at one particular dress but then sighed and looked away. “Don’t you have sketches of more simple dresses, more… cheaper?“ You asked the dressmaker. She looked at you surprised and Jungkook straightened up in his chair, placing his hand on your shoulder leaning over to you. “My love, I have enough money to buy you any of these dresses.” He said looking at the sketches. Mrs Dubois exhaled with satisfaction. Jungkook bit his lower lip for a second and then returned to his cold expression. He loved wearing stylish clothes and he is not going to let you – his wife think about money when it comes to buying the new dresses. “I think you are too afraid to spend my money,” his hand slid from your shoulder to your chin. He turned your head to look at him and then softly caressed your cheek. “I will help you pick some if you want.”

Chapter 11

a/n: Well??? What do you think? Did you notice something in this chapter? ANY THEORIES? ♥ I am really curious! I hope you enjoyed it!

[dearkusuo]

Unchanging

Synopsis: He was content with the simplicities life had to offer, while you sought out the world.

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x artist!reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Word Count: 3.6k

You first heard of him back in your second year of high school. There was nothing about Saiki Kusuo that stood out to you, but your good friend, Yumehara Chiyo, thought otherwise.

“Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince? He’s so dreamy that I can’t keep my eyes off of him. He’s so cool and mysterious,” your friend blabbered. If by cool and mysterious, she meant cold and aloof, then you completely agreed. 

Even the popular pretty girl, Teruhashi Kokomi, seemed enraptured by him, despite Saiki’s unwillingness to shower her any attention like every guy in school. She never told you about her crush on him, but it was obvious through her body language alone that she was smitten by the pink-haired boy.

You didn’t understand their fleeting infatuation for someone they hardly knew - never experienced the feeling of falling hard for someone from the depths of your soul that they were the only person you could think about. And you were perfectly content with that. You had bigger dreams to achieve than a small high school romance that wasn’t guaranteed to last long anyway.

The Okinawa school trip was an outing that all the second years in PK Academy were looking forward to, you included. Although you had a feeling that your friends, Chiyo and Kokomi, had different intentions for tagging along. 

They must have been so elated that the three of you ended up in the same group with the boy they liked.

You carried on disregarding Kokomi and Chiyo’s painfully obvious antics to spend time with their beloved prince charming until later that evening when you decided to take a walk outside the hotel alone. You convinced yourself that a late-night stroll would be an enjoyable pastime, but really, you wanted to get away from the love-struck fantasies of your two friends who were oblivious of the fact that they were both pursuing the same boy.

You don’t know how long you’ve been wandering around, but by the time you returned, the hotel had disappeared from your sight. Two recognizable figures stood by a large hole torn on the ground. A battered ship had risen from the gap where the building used to be.

Toritsuka Reita from Class 2-2 stood next to your pink-haired group member while Saiki had a hand directed at the ship, indicating that he was the one causing it to float midair. Your jaw dropped in disbelief at the sight before you.

Saiki turned his head in your direction as if he knew you were there all along. He kept his usual blank composure, although you could recognize the wary look in his eyes as he stared at you. Toritsuka panicked upon the realization that you were there to witness the whole scene.

You didn’t know how you should've reacted when the two boys told you of their psychic powers. 

“I won’t tell a soul,” you promised.

‘I know,’ Saiki’s voice echoed into your mind.

The rest of the trip went by smoothly after that incident. Kokomi subsequently spoke out about the crush she had on Saiki, and Chiyo announced that she had fallen for Kaidou Shun. 

You shook your head in wonder at the orange-haired girl. It was astonishing how quickly she was able to abandon her feelings for one boy and move on to someone else so quickly.

You realized that love was brief and ever-changing like the ticking seconds on a clock. There was no point in wasting time on such a fickle emotion when the only thing you would devote yourself to were your ambitions for the future. 

Nevertheless, a subconscious bond had been formed between you and Saiki after you learned his secret. 

You shared a glance with the psychic from afar as Kokomi relayed to you the dream she had of the boy she liked.

He was kinder and a lot less indifferent than you originally thought. Saiki wouldn’t admit it, but you would notice the subtle acts he performed to help out a troubled stranger and the small deeds he initiated to prevent harm from coming across the people around him.

 You finally acknowledged Saiki as a friend after he deliberately shared his umbrella with you during a particularly rainy day.

‘Good grief. I was feeling generous today, so this is nothing. Just make sure to come to school prepared next time,’ he had told you after you first rejected his help in worry of troubling him.

You found out much later that he could have stopped the rain with his abilities.

The empty café was tranquil save for the scratching of your pencil as you scribbled on your sketchbook. Saiki sat across from you, paying you no attention just as you did to him. His usual stoic expression was abandoned as he blissfully devoured his coffee jelly.

“I have a dream. After high school, I’ll travel around the world for a bit. I’ll join a bunch of art competitions and win a bunch of awards. Then eventually, I’ll go to an art school in New York so I can major in Illustration. And maybe I might even make a best-seller manga one day,” you mused.

‘Isn’t it a little too early for us to think about the future?’ Saiki retorted.

“Maybe. But I’ve had this dream for as long as I can remember.”

Art class was the subject you looked forward to the most in school. Not only because you excelled in many art mediums, but also because you took pride in the techniques you honed over the years of endless practice.

For the day’s lesson, you were to pair up with one person in the class and draw each other’s portraits. You casually looked around the room in search of anyone available.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Kokomi rushing up to Saiki with an excited smile as she called out, “Saiki, do you want to-” a majority of the boys in class crowded around her before she could say her piece. Saiki walked up to you instead, asking if you wanted to pair up with him. 

You glanced briefly at Kokomi, feeling a tad bit guilty for stealing her choice of partner while she was being surrounded by her group of fans hoping that she would choose one of them. But you couldn’t bring yourself to reject the pink-haired boy’s request.

Taking a seat from across each other, you adjusted your easel so you could get a better view of Saiki’s face. Despite the red tint dusting your cheeks from the intimacy of his peering gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. You perceived for the first time that Saiki was actually quite good looking.

You looked down at your page so you could sketch his appearance: the antennae on his head, his green glasses, soft pink hair, slender neck, smooth lips, chiselled face, sharp eyes. You looked up to take a quick peek at him again. 

 The constant blinking on his impassive face made your eyes widen in amusement and you frantically placed a hand over your mouth to prevent a snort from escaping.

‘Why are you laughing?’

“Because you’re blinking so much that it looks ridiculous,” you explained with a chuckle.

‘I have to keep on blinking so my x-ray vision resets. I’m trying to get a look at your face.’

You let out another coy giggle despite the heat rushing to the tips of your ears. He looked down at his paper to continue his piece with a warm smile barely present on his face.

You concentrated on your own illustration, marking down his affectionate expression before Saiki could return to his blank face, and showing it off as soon as you finished.

‘Not bad. Now take a look at mine.’

He flipped his paper over, exhibiting an intricate and beautiful portrait. The focused expression he depicted on your face while you drew him looked so alluring. You almost didn’t recognize it as your own, even though it was practically a mirror image.

"This looks way too realistic for someone who's trying not to stand out."

'It should be fine if it's you.'

You didn't understand what he meant, but his words caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

‘I need your help,’ A familiar voice spoke in your mind.

You jumped in surprise at the unexpected appearance of the pink-haired boy you had grown fond of. Your sketchbook flew out of your lap, falling right at your feet.

“How did you know I was here?” You asked with a huff.

‘In case you forgot, I can hear your thoughts. I know that sometimes you like to come here to the school rooftop during lunch.’

“Oh,” you uttered. “Well, since you came all this way to see me, what can I do for you?” You raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

'I need you to help me reject Teruhashi.'

You pursed your lips in uncertainty.

"Kokomi is my friend, and as her friend, you can't expect me to hurt her feelings."

'As my friend, you can't expect me to lead her on when I don't ever intend on returning her feelings. She'll get hurt either way. All I'm asking is for you to help me avoid her so she'll get over me.’

You knew he was right, but you were still unsure of meddling in a situation you weren't a part of, especially when it involved the feelings of your close friend. You looked out the window in contemplation.

“Why are you asking me? Mikoto would be a better choice.”

‘I trust you more, so it has to be you.’

You ignored the churning in your stomach as you casually threw your hands up, giving in to his request.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

‘Thank you.’

Saiki bent down on one knee, reaching out to grab your fallen sketchbook. 

“I can pick that up myself, you know, or you if you wanted to help me that badly, you could’ve done that levitation thing you always do.”

‘I know.’

He held the book out, watching you through his glasses while he knelt by your feet. A saying Chiyo once told you a long time ago reverberated at the back of your mind: “Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince?”

You gripped the sketchbook in his hand. Saiki’s gaze burned on your orbs as your image reflected off his green lenses. Neither one of you let go, even when your fingertips brushed against one another.

“What colour are your eyes?” You wondered.

‘Violet.’

“Major in Economics at Sayftee University and major in Literature at both Komman University and Ahvraj University,” you read out Saiki's school survey. “These are all surprisingly in character for you, but do you really have no dreams beyond living an ordinary life?”

‘I’m too busy thinking of ways to stop the volcano eruption to worry about my future.’

“You have a point there. Any luck with that?” you inquired.

Saiki shook his head.

“I guess that means we’ll be second years again.”

You didn’t keep track of how long time had been looping, and you found that you didn’t really care since you were already accustomed to the familiarity of your seemingly endless high school life. You were happy, even if it meant that the dreams you’ve been chasing for so long were slipping farther away from your grasp with every day that passed.

‘No, it’s about time I put an end to this.’

Saiki’s determined expression was embedded in your mind.

Your screams of disbelief were muffled by the pillow you held against your face. 

You had vowed to yourself since you were young that you wouldn’t grow attached to anyone. After all these years, you had to go back on your word just when you were about to leave.

Now was not the time. Not here. Not with him.

Kokomi and Chiyo took it upon themselves to pay you a visit after you skipped school for five days without notice. The dark circles under your eyes and your sunken face visibly worried them.

“I’m in love with Saiki,” you murmured, gazing sullenly at your blue-haired friend. “I’m sorry.”

Kokomi’s face fell, but she showed no signs of surprise.

“I already knew that. It was obvious with the way you always look at him,” she lamented. Kokomi cupped your balled fists in her hands and looked at you wistfully. “He rejected me a few days ago, so you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings. I think you two would look good together.”

You felt tears threatening to spill over your eyes. Whether it was from relief that Kokomi accepted you so easily or pain from your unfortunate situation, you didn’t know.

“I’m leaving Japan after we graduate,” you disclosed.

A dejected silence fell upon you three until Chiyo spoke up, “For how long?”

“An indefinite amount of time.”

“Are you ever coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

Their glum faces only worsened your mood.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

You tensed at the accusing tone directed at you. Saiki’s piercing gaze was pointed at your shrinking figure.

No matter how much time had passed since the loss of his abilities, you doubted that you would ever get used to the sound of his voice resonating out loud, or the enchanting shade of his eyes, even if they looked dangerously menacing at the moment.

“I wasn’t avoiding you. I was just busy studying for exams and doing other stuff,” you explained weakly.

Saiki’s deadpan expression indicated that he didn’t believe your lie.

After a few minutes of squirming underneath his scrutinizing gaze, you gave in and told him your worries, “I’m leaving the country soon. I think we should stop talking to each other so that it won’t be so hard for us to say goodbye.”

You pushed past him. You didn’t know where your feet planned on dragging you, but you figured anywhere was fine so long as you could get away from him.

The familiar warmth of Saiki’s hand wrapped around your own, stopping you from taking another step away. You didn’t dare turn around as you felt your heart thumping wildly.

“I won’t ever ask this of anyone else, so I’m begging you not to push me away,” he pleaded. He placed your hand over his chest, giving away the heavy pulsing of his heartbeat.

You could never say no to him.

Memories of the last few years ran through your mind as you smiled at the nostalgia. You took one final glance at your high school building before turning your back on it, striding towards the exit. 

You stopped at the sight of a familiar figure standing under the shade of a cherry blossom tree. Saiki must have known that you were staying much later after the graduation ceremony, all thanks to his restored powers.

‘Good grief. Were you really planning on leaving without saying goodbye?’ His voice resounded in your head.

You didn’t respond as you watched the wind blow through his hair, the sun illuminating the affectionate smile on his face, the violet obscured by his green glasses, and the petals dancing around the two of you as they fell to the ground. The timing was right. The mood was right. Everything was right.

He rubbed the back of your hand while you reached out to intertwine your fingers with his. The warmth that radiated off his skin felt like home.

He knew, and you knew that he did. After all, you could never hide your secrets from a psychic, no matter how hard you tried. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him how you felt.

“Goodbye,” you pulled away from Saiki.

What was the point of confessing your feelings to someone you would never see again?

Paris, France was one of your destinations out of many. Most people romanticized the capital as the City of Love, but the only reason you were even there in the first place was to visit the Louvre, the world’s largest art museum. 

Influenced by the art and the romantic ambience, you sketched out the scenery around you, deliberating how you could embody the city on paper. If you were to draw a picture of love, what would you envision? 

Maybe, it would look like pink locks tousled by the spring breeze, or the reflection of your eyes searching for violet orbs through tinted green glass. It might have been the lingering warmth on the fingertips of someone who trusted you enough to share their deepest secret, or the gentle smile that was reserved only for you during the most intimate of moments.

Your love was constant and unchanging. You realized that now. No matter how much time had passed or how many countries you visited, you always found yourself thinking about home.

Ever since you were a young student in junior high, you had hated the thought of giving up on your dreams to pursue a flighty, insignificant relationship. Six years ago, you threw away your chance at love to focus on your aspirations. There was no point in thinking back on what might have been. You shouldn’t have.

 You made a name for yourself through the many art competitions you joined, winning a few awards here and there. A while back, you finished your Bachelor's Degree in Illustration at a famous art school in New York. Things were coming together quite nicely.

Your high school days almost seemed like a lifetime ago. The memories that used to be the center of your universe, the laughter you shared with your friends, and a not so ordinary boy with psychic powers were at the back of your mind. Everyday life without the only person you've ever loved became the norm for you.

You recently got a job offer from a famous publishing company in Japan after you posted a short comic that blew up in popularity. The editor in chief sealed the deal with you after you sent him a promising draft for a manga you had planned out. 

It had been years since you’ve been to the country, but your return and the nostalgic surroundings brought back old recollections that made you feel like you were a teenager again.

The chief took it upon himself to give you a tour around the company, showing you the work environment and the employees. He guided you through the different floor levels, offices and workrooms, and acquainted you with the higher-ups. But he had yet to introduce the editor you would be working with.

"There he is."

The chief led you towards the figure of a man who had his back turned to you. The pink tuft of hair on his head and the silly-looking antennae shaped into joysticks poking out of his scalp were noticeably familiar. But you couldn’t believe it.

He turned around, green-tinted eyes boring into yours with the same neutral expression you used to see every day. Even when you had anticipated who it was, you couldn’t help the breathless gasp that escaped your lips.

"This is Saiki Kusuo. He will be the editor in charge of overseeing your work,” the chief introduced to you.

You took the hand Saiki held out for you, shaking it courteously. His blank expression didn’t fade, but his eyes softened under your gaze. The warmth on his grip was just as comforting as you remembered, like the welcoming embrace for a loved one returning home. 

Neither one of you let go.

"Well, since it's already after work hours, you guys should grab dinner and get to know each other. You'll be working closely for a while, after all," the chief suggested before leaving you and Saiki alone.

A hushed silence washed over both of you as the world disappeared before your sight. The image of a cherry blossom tree on a sunny spring day was evoked in your mind.

He sat next to you in a secluded booth of the café you used to frequent, away from prying eyes. 

"What happened to majoring in Economics and Literature?" you asked.

Your body was angled in his direction while you engaged him in conversation. Despite the many years apart, you and Saiki had fallen back to the easygoing relationship you once shared.

'I finally had time to think about my future, and I realized that this is what I wanted.'

“You wanted to be a manga editor like your dad?” you prompted.

‘Not quite.’

Saiki was composed as usual as he turned to face you.

'I have a dream. After you accomplished your goals, we would find each other again and spend the rest of our lives together. And maybe we might even make a best-seller manga one day,’ he mused.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest. The words you couldn’t bring yourself to say on the day of your graduation poured out unthinkingly from your throat.

“I love you.”

He placed a hand on the back of your neck, closing the distance between you.

‘I know.’

Your lips crashed into his, moulding perfectly as they moved against one another. You gripped his shoulders, pulling him in as he snuck an arm around your waist. Your eyelids fluttered shut, relishing in the sweet sensation of his taste.

You only pulled away minutes after to catch your breath. His forehead leaned against yours, the tip of your noses barely skimming each other. The look of adoration in his eyes revealed that he felt the same way.

No matter how long he waited, your love for each other was unchanging.

[paper-n-ashes]

The Late Shift

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: There’s actually none (I hope). I know. I’m surprised too.

Authors Note: This is so dumb. I’m aware. Look, I’ve been dealing with a horrendous writers block and shattered confidence and I made Paul Sevier gifs to ease my pain. It turned into this. I just wanted to try something a little cute and fluffy to get back into the swing of things. So... here it is.

*

It was going to be a long night.

Stuck on the Wednesday evening shift for the third time this month, you mindlessly fiddled with the pen in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, your mind drifted away from the present moment, wondering why your boss seemed to dislike you so much to keep you here past 6pm in the middle of the week. He’d always been adamant this was prime selling time for this boutique suit store, with corporate clients needing to do their shopping outside of normal business hours.

You, however, knew keeping this place open was senseless, barely seeing more than a few unenthusiastic customers in these agonizingly slow stretches. Working on commission also made you all the more bitter about being paid minimum wage to stand behind a counter and doodle sketches of imaginary clients dressed in the outfits you personally tailored. This isn’t where you thought a Bachelor of Arts in Fashion Design would take you, that’s for sure.

“H-hello,” you heard a deep voice quietly greet you, startling you into focus. “Are you busy? I… think I need a little help.”

Eyes flickering up from the notepad, you were sure your pupils blew wide at the sight of the man in front of you. Standing at an imposingly large height, his hair a severely murky shade of black, with honeyed irises shining brightly behind delicate spectacles.

A human personification of tall, dark and handsome. Well, except for the clothes.

The stranger wore the layered combination of a grey tweed jacket and argyle patterned sweater, arranged over a particularly heinous, mustard-coloured button up. While the ensemble made you internally cringe, it gave him an air of intelligence, like the kind that hangs around stuffy, old college professors who have more academic accolades than you have fingers and toes.

“Me?” you coughed out, knowing full well you were the only other person in this tiny little shop. “Uh, yeah. I mean- No, no I’m not busy. What is it you need help with?” Even when you stood, the man towered above you, making you silently begin to calculate the high-numbered measurements you’d need to fit him in something.

“I have an important meeting scheduled for Friday. You know, the type you need to wear a suit to?” Evidently the thought of it made him nervous, as you noticed his cheek twitch slightly, his eyes scanning momentarily at the garments filling the space. “I’m… uh… not so great with clothes.”

Clearly, you chuckled inside your head, holding the word from your tongue. “You want me to pick out something for you?”

He took a defeated breath, his mouth twisting into an awkward yet wonderfully endearing smile. “Would you mind? Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble!” you burst, maybe a little too excitedly. “It’s my job!” Bounding out from behind the counter you’d been imprisoned by, you moved directly to the section of classic navy business suits. Slim line. Something to accentuate his well-built frame, rather than hide it away. You had to pause, swivelling back around to the dumbfounded man. “Is price an issue… uh…?”

“Paul,” he answered for you, slowly moving to where you stood. “And… I suppose not. Probably should spend the money on something that will last. If you think it’s a good idea.”

Oh thank god, you mused without showing the relief on your face. He’s not some rich asshole trying to flash his cash. “A good suit can last you five years, if you treat it right.” Your hand reached over to graze one of the deepened blue sleeves of a jacket at your left. “And a classic colour will never go out of style.”

Paul let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I think you’ve already noticed how lacking in style I am…” He glanced to your nametag, murmuring your name with a goofy smirk curling his lips. You’d never seen a grown man, especially not one of this stature, appear so adorable. It was horribly distracting.

“I’m sure you have expertise in other areas,” you stumbled, realizing only when the words came out how offensive they might seem. Yet Paul conceded to your comment, his rumbling laugh making your chest feel tight.

“Debatable,” he shrugged. “I’m just glad I found some qualified personnel to help me in this instance.”

Oh boy. Humble and charming? You were in so much trouble. Surely someone as sweet as this had another waiting for them at home. “I’m sure your partner could help you pick out something nice too.”

“Not an option in my case.”

Shit. Single too. You were truly fucked.

You turned, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat by focusing on finding an outfit that would contain his longer limbs. Plucking out a matching jacket and trouser set, with an ivory, collared button-up, you offered them to Paul, his features having melted into a sweetened look of intrigue. “Go and try these on. There’s a changeroom just behind the counter. See how they feel, and we can go from there.”

He nodded, taking the pieces with both of his large hands and shuffling away to where you’d pointed to. No sooner than the latch had locked were you dashing to where your phone was sitting at the register, flitting out a rushed text message to your favourite co-worker.

There was rustling you heard emanating from the changeroom stall, doing your best to ignore the urge of picturing Paul, a man you’d met only minutes ago, gradually slipping off his clothes to reveal the toned muscles underneath. You grimaced at yourself, shaking your head to banish the imaginations. God this was unprofessional.

Finally, a response lit up on your phone screen.

You laughed softly through your nose, about to type a reply when you heard the lock click open again. The breath in your lungs was stuck as Paul made his way out, the expensive textiles draping over his burly frame in a way that made your whole body tense.

He rustled a hand through his hair, looking up to you while fidgeting with the starchy material stretched over his chest. “Does it look okay?”

After all these years working this job, the enticing novelty of attractive men in well-fitted suits had slowly worn off, especially when most of them treated you with about as much respect as the used gum they spit out onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, all those preconceived notions were gone. On Paul, this ensemble instantly became the most captivating thing in the entire universe.

The inside of your mouth flooded with saliva, having to swallow hard before speaking again. “Great… it looks… great.” You did your best to conceal a settling exhale. “What do you think? How does it feel?”

Paul shifted to look at his reflection in the mirror, pupils trailing up and down, flexing his limbs in an attempt to get a proper impression of the new apparel. “It feels really good. Makes me look… sophisticated.” He turned to you, his expression unsure. “Right?”

Your smile was sparkling, nodding to his question. There was a small amount of work to do, noting how in your effort to make sure everything complemented his physique, you’d oversized him. The waistline of the jacket needed to be taken in, the shoulder lines sitting slightly off, and the trouser length needing to be taken up slightly. “A couple of adjustments and it’ll be perfect.”

“You mean taking it to be tailored?”

“No need.” You pulled out the wheel of berry pins from your pocket, kneeling down on the floor next to Paul’s feet. “All our tailoring is included in the price. Done completely in house.” You began to fold the bottom edge of his pants, pinning it to an adequate length. “I can have it ready for you tomorrow, all ready for your Friday meeting.”

“You do all the tailoring yourself?” Paul asked as you slinked another pin through the fabric.

“Sure do,” you chirped, moving onto the other leg. “3 years at a design school taught me a few things about cutting and sewing.” With the hemlines in place, you straightened in front of him, plucking out a roll of measuring tape from your other pocket. “I just… need to take a few measurements to properly alter the jacket.”

His cheek twitched, the line of his jaw seeming somewhat strained. “Sure. F-fine. Do what you gotta do."

You went with determining his arm length first, feeling out the boney point of his shoulder and striping the lined tape all the way down to his wrist. Then, after taking a deep inhale, you curled your arms around his hips, focusing hard on the little black numbers to ignore the fact Paul’s breath had started to skate over your skin with this close proximity. It was when you were lining up the thickened stripes indicating his chest circumference that you made the mistake of peering up, finding his alluring stare fully concentrated on you.

There was a moment. A spark to waiting kindling. Where impulse could have led you to do a dangerous thing. You’d never been the hasty type, never acted without considerable thought. Usually so shy and composed, never making the first move. Although right now, you could scarcely hold yourself back, desperate to know the sensation of Paul’s lips, how they’d move over yours, what they tasted like.

No. This was so inappropriate.

The compulsion was about to wither away when you felt a hand skim up your waist, the lightened touch shooting a thrill over your skin.

“Excuse me,” a gruff voice called from your side. “How much are these dress socks?”

You immediately stepped back, smacked into reality again. “$12.99. Exactly what it says on the box.”

The older gentlemen scrutinized the packaging, lids narrowed until he finally saw the numbers plastered at the border. “Oh, right. Eh, a little expensive for my taste. Thanks anyway.”

Flustered, you began to coil the measuring tape into its resting spiral, forcefully glaring at the floor. “I’m all done. You can get dressed into your own clothes now.”

In your periphery you saw Paul regarding you with a gentle nod, walking back into the changeroom without another word. Every part of you wanted to sink beneath the wooden floorboards, so horrendously embarrassed you could feel a smoldering heat prickle at your cheeks. Only to relieve some of the nervous energy, you ran to your phone.

Again, Paul was exiting out of the stall just as you were going to submit your reply, placing the neatly arranged garments over the counter. It was difficult to look directly at him, having to summon all remaining shards of your courage to drift your eyes up to his face. “Was there anything else you needed?”

His mouth parted, only to quickly snap shut, scratching at his hairline in the seconds it took for him to give you a response. “No. Nothing else. Unless there’s something more you think I need.”

You shook your head, wishing you could give another answer just to keep him here. “You’re all set.” The full price of his items flashed on the monitor in front of you, spouting it to him as your fingers flicked across the keyboard to finalize the purchase, with a personal discount that wouldn’t show on the receipt.

“When should I come by to pick it up?” he queried, passing you his credit card. “Oh, but there’s no pressure. Whenever you have the time is just fine.”

An idea flared. “If you give me your number, I can text you when it’s ready.”

“That works for me.”

Erasing all evidence of the conversation you’d been having, you brought up the number pad, handing your phone over. Paul swiftly typed in his details before placing it back in your palm. ‘Paul the Suit Guy’ the contact read, unable to stifle your laugh.  

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His eager expression made your heart quiver through a beat.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll see you then.”

Paul waved his hand in an awkward flourish to signal his goodbye, eventually moving far enough from your vision for you to finally take a full, relaxed breath. In a dazed hurry, you keyed in your returning message to your co-worker.

It was the precise moment your thumb had pressed into the ‘Send’ button that you realised your recipient wasn’t the one you’d intended.

You’d sent this message straight to Paul.

Fuck. Oh fuck. This was bad.

While you were scrambling to formulate a believable excuse, a new message popped up onto the screen.

Tags for my lovelies who might tolerate this nonsense: @tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @blackberries45 @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynzandtonic @beskarbabs​

[petite-ely]

Afraid // JJ Maybank

five - but what if?

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: bad language (don’t swear kids), mention of drowning, mention of death, nightmares, mention of guns, mention of fight, did I miss something.

Description: after his reckless actions at the party, JJ is unable to sleep but he isn’t the only one still awake.

A/n : I don’t want to make this longer than it already is, I think I’ve talked enough lol. If for some reason you want to know why I’ve been gone for so long I’ve written a post regarding it. Sorry again for not posting in so long. If you want to chat, feel free to reach out. I’m friendly. :) please kindly tell me if I’ve made some mistakes, I’ve reread this like a hundred times but its possible some mistakes slipped.

Previously next

Afraid masterlist

Gif by @cobrazkai

Song recommendation

JJ Maybank was 14 years old when he first realized that he had feelings for one of his best friends. The thing is he didn’t know what the hell those feelings were. He had always thought that y/n was really pretty and he considered her to be one of her closest friends and that was it. Friends- that’s what they were.

But after years of friendship and wild adventures and basically hanging out 24/7, something felt different. And boy, did that scare him.

JJ was not the kind of person to be really in touch with his emotions. Being abandoned by his own mother and living with an abusive alcoholic father didn’t really help either. If anything, his past traumas only made him more disconnected from his emotions and feelings.

He might’ve been hot headed and impulsive but that didn’t stop him from feeling things, often even too deeply. The issue was naming the emotions he was feeling. He didn’t know what he was feeling like half of the time. So when it came to y/n, his feelings for her were so intense and unknown. He had never felt this way for anyone before. He was so confused.

Being around her felt weirdly homely and yet, he never really had a real home to come to. For him, it was only a house. It was a building with things he wasn’t really attached to and a man he couldn’t really call a father, despite DNA saying otherwise. Being with her felt warm and golden and it was like a drug he couldn’t say no to. He was constantly looking for ways to feel this specific way. It was euphoric. But he only felt this way when he was around her. And it felt like home.

She was the home he wanted to come to every freaking night. And he wanted to dance with her and have night long discussion and caress her cheeks tenderly. He wanted to kiss her more than anything else, his lips on hers staying that way until one of them needed to take a breath - oh what heavenly feeling that must be. He wanted to proclaim his feelings to the entire island - the entire world even.

Only he couldn’t. There was this rule, and he couldn’t break it. Usually, he wasn’t the kind of person to let rules determine what he should and shouldn’t do. But it was the pogue rules, he couldn’t break them. He couldn’t do that to his friends, regardless of his own feelings.

Love. That’s what his feelings were. It took him some time to realize it, but yeah, it was love. He was certain of it (which was rare for JJ). A first love, innocent, deep and one sided. At least that’s what he thought. How could she love him? How could anyone love him when even his own father didn’t? Who would want him?

Now, JJ had messed, big time.

He was sitting beneath a tree, at the edge of the yard whims the château, a few feet away from where the water started. His gaze was turned towards the sunrise though he wasn’t really looking at the magnificent show of colours that nature was offering him. He was thinking or more like regretting.

He kept replaying the event that had happened just a few hours ago on the boneyard again and again in his mind. The arrogance on John B’s face while he taunted the kooks, the empty, psychotic look on Topper’s face while he was holding J.B’s head underwater, his own hand holding the gun against Topper’s head. It felt so powerful at the moment and yet in retrospect he felt so stupid. What would he have done if something had actually happened, if someone had gotten hurt because of him?

In the spur of the moment, he hadn’t thought about it really much. How crazy it actually was. He saw his friend in a situation where he could actually die and only thought about helping him. He had this thing with him that could help save him, an object that take could take someone’s life in the matter of seconds. So he used it at his advantage. He had only wanted to help, but at what cost.

He kept picturing the expression on y/n’s face when he got the gun out. It wasn’t anger, no it was much worse, she was terrified. She had actually been scared of him. How could he ever make up for that. How he could he ever admit what he was feeling for her after he had brought her such terror. He had ruined everything.

What if she never forgot that moment? What if she never forgave him?

A branch cracked somewhere in the distance, and JJ turned to face whoever, or whatever, was lurking in the dark. He was blinded by the bright artificial light of a flashlight. “JJ?” A voice spoke and the blond immediately recognized it. Y/n.

“Can you please turn it off, I don’t think it’s necessary,” he responded, motioning to the clarity that brought the sunrise. It was light enough for them to fully see one another.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, “-she sat down beside him- “Couldn’t sleep?” JJ stared at her for a moment before taking his eyes away.

“Yeah, you could say that. What about you? John B snoring too loud?” Y/n gave a small laugh.

“Um, no, not this time.” Her smile went down. “I had a nightmare.” JJ’s brows furrowed.

“Not about um, not about tonight right?” He asked, guilt hidden in the tremors of his voice.

Images of the past night filled y/n’s mind. Her brother being held under water, JJ pulling the gun out, the loud echoing sound of the firearm as it shot in the air. She could still hear it ringing slightly in her ears.

A small moment went by before she finally shook her head in denial, earning a small sigh of relief from the blond (at least that wasn’t his fault, he already felt guilty for so many things). “No, uh, no it wasn’t that,” she said, her voice barely audible.

JJ stared at her face in the golden light of this early morning. He noticed the blank stare in her eyes and frowned. Nightmares, although worrying for most people, were pretty common for y/n. JJ of course knew this, yet something felt odd.

He rested his hand on the small part of her back between her shoulder blades. “Do you want to talk about it?” She turned her head to meet his eyes, the feeling of his skin, warm and soft against hers sending small tingles at the base of her neck.

She didn’t want to bother him with her problems, she knew how horrible his home life was compared to what she was living. She didn’t want to remind him of this not make him feel bad about her small problems when he was facing such violence on a daily basis. Still, she knew JJ and talking about his dad was the last thing he wanted to do. And his eyes, his beautiful ocean blue eyes, it’s like they could see through her. How could she lie to him?

“I, uh I-I-“ his hand went to her shoulder and he squeezed it reassuringly. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.” Y/n felt her cheeks burning (hopefully he didn’t notice it). She took a moment to breathe in deeply the fresh air, calming herself slightly before putting her hand on his.

“No, I-I want to. I think it’ll help, in a way.” JJ cracked a sweet smile. “Alright then.”

“I keep having this one dream about my dad and I see him on his boat wandering. He’s lost in the middle of the ocean and he’s calling my name.” Saying those words, she really felt as though she could hear her father calling her name in the far distance, as if he was right beside her. Sadly, it was only her imagination playing tricks on her.

“And it keeps turning to this nightmare, where he dies in various horrible ways. Either drowned or starved or eaten by sharks.” JJ’s gaze softened, his eyes admiring her lips forming each words one after the other. “But tonight-“ she let go of his hand, shifting her body to face him completely, “-tonight, for a reason, I didn’t see him.”

“The boat was empty.”

Flashes of her nightmare came back to her like waves crashing on the beach. Her dad on his boat, a smile sketched on his lips. The sky is clear blue, not a cloud is in sight. There’s a warm breeze, she can almost feel it on her skin, and the sun is shining. It’s almost utopian, the perfect day to spend out in the sea.

Then the scene changes. The sky darkens to a deeper shade of blue, grey clouds towering the ocean. The wind is stronger, much stronger. It whistles as it makes its way in the crevices between each tree and threatens to tear the sails down. And the boat, she can see it floating hauntingly on the wild waves the same way a ghost would in abandoned castle. And there’s no trace of her father. Not even a feeling, that would tell her he’s there, trying to survive this storm.

“What if he really is gone J? What if my dad-“ she stopped her sentence to look at the horizon, somehow hoping to see a sign that would prove she was wrong. “I’m trying so hard to be positive and optimistic, but it’s been so long. What if he never comes back?”

The look in her eyes was heart-wrenching. JJ didn’t know what to say or do. He never really thought about it. What would happen if Big John was gone. To be honest he didn’t want to, that man was more of father to him than his own ever was. And losing him would be... he preferred not to think about it.

“I disagree,” he finally said. “What?” “Your dad is like one of the smartest person I’ve ever known. I think that, he, of all people would know how to get out of any situation, especially if it seems impossible to everyone else. I don’t think that you should give up on him yet.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes, I do,” he smiled. “So fuck everyone who tells you otherwise,“ y/n giggled. “Fuck all of them! You’re allowed to have hope, y/n, even after this much time. They can’t take that from you.”

“In the meantime, we’ll there’s us,” us, “the pogues, our own family. We can get through anything, right?”

“Yeah, we can.” Y/n’s head fell on his shoulder. “We’re the pogues.”

JJ admired her carefully. How her face looked, basked in the golden rays of the sun, looking so terribly tired and yet so beautiful. He could stay like this forever, losing himself completely in her smile. God she was so wonderful.

“Hey y/n/n?” “Yeah?” “Are you mad at me?” “Huh?”

“Why would I be ma- oh, oh.” The gun. He thought she was mad at him for what he did. Though he saved her brother, didn’t he? So, she didn’t understand why he would think she could hate him.

“It’s just that you looked so terrified when-” “You saved him JJ, that’s what matters most.” Y/n interrupted the boy mid sentence, placing her hand on his arm in gratitude. “If you hadn’t done anything, he could have...” she didn’t finish her sentence.

When she saw JJ holding the firearm against Topper’s head just a few hours ago, she had first been incredibly shocked. She didn’t recognize the JJ she knew. But now, she completely understood. It was his way of protecting his friends, his way of showing he cared. And that, she admired him for it. Though he could’ve shown it in a less dangerous way.

“I admit,” she added, “it was dangerous and a bit scary to see and we’re probably gonna get some kind of revenge from the kooks soon, but no one got hurt. And J.B, well he’s okay! We’re all okay!”

“Also, I’m pretty sure I did some very, very stupid things last night, so I can’t really be mad at you,” she cringed remembering the amount of alcohol influenced things she had said and done during the party. “God, I must have looked so ridiculous.”

JJ laughed at her comment. “Yes, yes you did.” “Man, John B was right, I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Asked y/n, once their laughter had died. “Depends what?”

“Promise me you’ll never hurt yourself with that thing, or anyone else for that matter.”

“I promise, y/n. ”

“Thank you.”

Taglist

@deionswannabegirl @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @poguestyle17 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @kitty084 @coloradogirl07 @ponyboys-sunsets @chaoticbisous @p0gue420 @sloaneemily

If I forgot you or if you wanna be added/removed just tell me! Also I’m sorry if your name didn’t work :/