#I want it to be taught in art schools as a reminder

[striving-artist]

If you have created, encouraged, enabled, or spread anything to do with Goncharov, Thank You.

Look, today was my birthday, and Goncharov rose today, and those events are not in anyway related. But, it does mean that I got to spend all day watching this unfold. And I have been on tumblr long enough to know that, even if something fades, it always comes back as an anniversary.

I keep writing things and then deleting them. Cause. Look. I do not have a way to say this emphatically enough without it sounding like I'm being sarcastic. I work in the arts and in entertainment. I am a storyteller by trade and training and passion. I love the way that humans are, and have always been good at their core. I love that when left with nothing else, humans will create something to share with others, just for the joy of doing it.

Watching this today is one of the coolest things I have ever seen experienced, and every time I think about it for more than a few seconds, I start to cry because it is the most pure expression of the goodness of humanity that I have ever seen. There is music, art, fic, meta, ships, discourse, a plot, and bits of screenplay invented out of nothing but the happiness of the people involved. I genuinely cannot communicate how this feels to watch. It's just a dumb thing people took and ran with on this strange blue hellsite, and I know that. But I swear, it is also more. It's a light in the darkness, in a way too vast to put into words right now.

And the best of this is that I know, if nothing else, a year from now, I'll get to see this again, and I'll get a reminder that the best of humanity is found when there are no restrictions or requirements. Which means that I know, right now, that I am going to get an incredible birthday present next year too, because I'll get to relive some of this.

So. Thank you.

[caraphernellie]

country girl ellie x city girl reader headcanons

oh fuck yeah so excited i love this kind of au!!

warnings: suggestive stuff, femme reader, obviously ellie’s a country gal, reader is wealthy, uhhh . these are super disorganised and probably really lame just things that i thought of ??

✧ ellie moved to the city from the countryside to pursue dreams of becoming an artist (with a scholarship to art school)

✧ she has a southern accent don't get me started

✧ u met her on her way to school. u bump into her and her phone falls to the ground and cracks

✧ ellie definitely has her own judgements about city girls, coming from the south, but she doesn't want to anger u, she's apologising profusely because ur gorgeous and just look expensive

✧ only for u to own up to it, and offering to pay for her phone damages

✧ and ellie's absolutely shocked. she tells u it is really not necessary but u insist by writing down ur number for her and then hurrying off

✧ did someone say u-haul lesbian trope or...

✧ because she wasted no time in pursuing u. there's something about her growing up in the country with nobody but joel raising her that made her extremely unhinged and this was something she couldnt let go

✧ she's so laidback despite u living every day like it's ur last (anxious queen or party girl whichever one u are 💀)

✧ she's so calm, never afraid to get her hands dirty

✧ coming from the countryside where the nearest other human civilisation was the small town twenty miles away, she definitely had some safety concerns and paranoia when it came to the city. definitely a protective gf

✧ u have to constantly remind ellie that she cannot just punch people if they stare at u too long even if it makes her jealous. she will get arrested

✧ she does feel kind of bad and a little insecure at times, wishing she could provide but u spend so much money on her (guitars, art supplies, comics, food) and she's so grateful but feels like a burden sometimes even if u continuously tell her u WANT to

✧ after moving to the city and dating u she finally understood where the stereotype about girls getting ready for ages comes from. it has only ever taken her ten minutes max to get ready in her life and yet u start getting ready three hours before an event

✧ she's kind of super clueless

✧ softdom ellie my beloved

✧ in summer break u went with her to the countryside and she thought it was the funniest thing ever watching u be scared to get dirty

✧ she taught u how to ride a horse and out of nowhere afterwards says "i'll teach you how to ride bareback later, yeah?" with that stupid smirk on her face, patting your thigh while helping you onto the saddle

✧ so reputation coded. so cornelia street coded

✧ she definitely helps u loosen up and become a little less uptight

✧ there was definitely a few times where she'd shovel up horse shit and chase u with it on the shovel just to laugh at ur screaming and "ellieeee-uh!!!!!!!!"

✧ she's the epitome of being super confident about things she's never done before. thinks she's fucking invincible just because she can lift heavy and tolerate the smell of manure

✧ rolls her sleeves up and gets into it

✧ the first time she got into the bedroom with u... did she know entirely what she was doing? no. oh but she had the confidence as if she did know what she was doing

i cant keep going im gonna get carried away i kinda wanna turn this into a proper fic or somethinggg but i have too many ideasss :((

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

miscellaneous fellow honest headcanons

These aren't following any prompt in particular, these are just thoughts I had when I saw the guy hammin' it up and then turning on us.

Some of these headcanons are informed by fan art I've seen and discussions I've had with friends, while others are purely me.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

He calls people “little lads” and “little ladies”.

Fellow has a very noticeable laugh. Like, he grunts and snorts and has tears rolling down his cheeks. (He tends to laugh at others’ misery, thinking of it as “retribution” or “payback” for the injustices he has suffered himself.)

Bro shaves using a knife (yes, he shaves because he is a grown ass man) because razors are hella expensive.

He uses that cheap cologne and cakes it on THICK. This, in his mind, gives off the impression that he’s a well-off and put-together individual you should tooootally trust.

Also the type of person that lays it on thick with his words. If he’s trying to impress a date or something, he’ll shower them with so many compliments it almost seems fake. But no, he’s just the type to simp hard when he happens to be genuine 💀 most of the time he’s faking it though—

He’s very street smart, but in a way where he confuses hostile people by talking over them and acting overly friendly. They usually stuns them long enough for him and Gidel to skedaddle.

If he gets dumped, he'd be the pathetic whimpering boyfriend that begs for his ex to take him back. When they inevitably don't, he mopes all day about it.

He chain smokes and aggressively drinks as a coping mechanism on his bad days 😔 and sometimes he gambles (like, on those scratch-off cards) hoping that he'll strike it rich and buy him and Gidel a better life...

Basically, he generally does not have his shit together but tries his best to pass like someone who does (and usually succeeds at it).

Fellow appears in public wearing his full suit, but at home (ie whatever ratty temporary housing their boss found for them before they move on to the next place) he just wears a T-shirt and lounges around in boxers (and sometimes socks with holes in them).

He uses those disposable eyeshadow wands that snap in half at the slightest bit of too much pressure. Fellow acts like the Claire’s kid makeup he uses is the luxury stuff, but Vil can tell the pigmentation isn’t all there and there’s MAD fallout.

He may be broke AF and have his moments of emotional spiraling, but he has pretty decent budgeting skills. Fellow lives for sales and does extreme couponing to stretch their money as far as it will go.

He invests in other cost-saving methods like wearing shoes until the sole is literally flopping off and just adding water to residual soap in a pump bottle to make the soap "last longer".

Fellow is really good at cutting food (bread, beans) thin to conserve it. Yes, this is a reference to an old Mickey Mouse cartoon—

When he was younger, he had dreams of being an actor (and, more specifically, starring in musicals). That's why he's often humming, swinging around his cane, and/or whistling as he's on the prowl for idiots to sucker—they're remainders of his thespian days before his dreams were crushed into itty bitty pieces.

Man looks like he'd be great at tap dancing.

Before his current gig, he tried a bunch of other scams including a MLM at one point to get by. His signature spell came in pretty clutch in those days too.

Fellow’s not that good at reading or spelling—in fact, he was never a particularly strong student. (“I didn’t fail school!! The schools failed ME!!”) He’s easily frustrated by academics and thinks there should be more hands-on and practical skills taught in learning institutions.

I think it's a given that he and Ruggie would be besties since they both want to eat the rich but I also think Fellow would kiss ass to Azul and then rage about how shitty + entitled Azul is (Azul reminds Fellow of his boss)💀 Scammers hate other scammers because they're both competing to scam the same people--

Even though Fellow is an asshole to most others (well, when he’s not flattering them to lure them into a trap), he’s always nice to Gidel and puts him first. If there’s ever a situation where they’re short on something (clothes, food, etc), Gidel gets priority. This is why Gidel has a full outfit (even if parts are patches or mismatched) whereas Fellow himself has a glove that is so worn out there’s a hole in one of the pinkie fingers.

Fellow may not be blessed with a bounty of magic, but he’s quick on his feet and good with words. Because of these skills, he’s talented at spinning bedtime stories, which he often tells to Gidel to help him fall asleep on nights that are particularly cold and nasty.

Gidel still believes in Santy Claws and wishing upon stars, and Fellow doesn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. He’ll figure it out on his own one day, Fellow thinks. He just doesn’t want to be the one to ruin those childhood joys for him.

Playing pretend is another shared past time of theirs. It helps Fellow get into character before he goes off to swindle people, and it gives Gidel a way to express himself in spite of being mute. They have a routine they do together where Fellow pretends to be a doctor diagnosing a patient and Gidel takes down notes for him as his medical scribe. Yes, this is a Pinocchio reference—

They actually have many more games they play (mainly because they cannot afford other forms of entertainment). Some of the games are clever ruses conjured by Fellow to teach Gidel survival tips and tricks: the who-can-make-their-piece-of-bread-last-longer game, hide-and-seek (from the authorities), etc.

For special occasions, Fellow saves up some money on the side to grant Gidel little luxuries, like a box of crayons to doodle with.

Gidel hugs Fellow’s leg or waist to cheer him up when he’s upset. He also hides behind Fellow when he’s scared or feeling shy.

He’s just really attached to Gidel cuz they have no one else in this cruel world, just them against the world 😔 He sees a lot of his younger self in the little boy… the opportunities lost because of their circumstances… “It’s alright, Gidel. Leave it to Fellow-sama.”

[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn It

Ch. 4: Perfect

Baby Pics:

Birthday Looks:

Note: Okay, the love this story is getting is insane! I appreciate it so much because I love these characters and hearing what you all think. Thank you for the reblogs, notes, likes, comments and messages, I love hearing your feedback and all of the interaction. Apparently this obsession isn't going away anytime soon so I should update frequently. Also, I feel like Long Way 2 Go by Cassie is the perfect song to describe where Art and Heaven are right now. And Boyfriend by Dove Cameron gives me Heaven and Tashi. Best Friend by Rex Orange County reminds me of Heaven and Patrick right now. Let me know if you guys want me to keep giving song recs. There is a trigger warning in this one, pretty mild mention of eating disorders. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading! MDNI! Love y'all <3

Warnings: Mild sexual content, mild eating disorder, strong language.

Taglist: @spookystitchery @anehkael @fkaams @butterflyybabe @sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

“It’s supposed to be right up here, on the left.” Art instructs, pointing to try and guide Patrick along the cobblestone road to the large black metal gates. “Are you…left not right.”

“Okay! Well, you said both so-”

“Yeah, right up here on the left.” Art laughs, shaking his head and resting his forearm on the hot leather under the window on the passenger side. 

“Would you chill out? It’s…we’re not even that late. Plus, I’m not especially excited to be meeting two sets of parents today.” Patrick drums his fingers on the steering wheel, leisurely turning onto the road and pulling up to the gate.

Art scoffs, looking at his friend out of the side of his eye. “I guess I’m not under the same pressure as you.”

Silence falls over the car as they wait for the man at the gate to place a guest sticker on the windshield of Patrick’s car. The brown haired man sits with a wry smirk, staring forward while willing himself not to glance at his friend. He was happy that overall, things haven’t changed between him and Art despite the fact that they were no longer going to school together and his sweet, sweet best friend is clearly desperately into one if not both of his girlfriends.

To be honest, it was nice to see Art want something. He’s always been a, you get what you get and don’t have a fit type of kid. The kind of guy who agreed to race Patrick to the dorms when they were kids and slowed to a jog at the first sight of Patrick pulling forward slightly. But this time things were different. He wasn’t stupid. He could see the looks. He could hear the little snarky remarks Art hides behind his easy smiles and feel the pats on the back that are suddenly leaving behind a little sting.

But he was also still his best friend Art Donaldson. The guy he taught to jerk off. The friend he shares everything with. The best partner he’s ever had. Maybe that’s why he thinks he’s okay with how he looks at them. It’s interesting to watch these two women they met draw out a side of his friend that he could never. That doesn’t mean he’ll let him have them, though. 

Which is why, he made sure to take the weekend off of his tour, to the coordinator’s outrage, to attend Tashi and Heaven’s joint birthday party back in their hometown. 

People used to say that Patrick and Art were crazy close, but Tashi and Heaven were on another level. Apparently, the two were born a couple hours apart. Tashi on the night of September 15th and Heaven the morning September 16th. So here they were, driving to Heaven’s big ass house for their birthday party. 

They pull up to the imposing home, and see various balloons and streamers. Next to the columns bracketing the stairs are two blown up pictures, the one on the right is clearly a baby picture of Tashi posing cutely with her hand out. The left is of a little Heaven, smiling hard with little pigtails on the side of her head. 

Art hangs back a little as Patrick argues with the valet who is apparently parking the guests' cars, demanding he treat his truck with kindness. The blond man smiles softly at the picture of young Heaven and discreetly snaps a photo, sending her a text.

8:30 p.m.: Oh god, burn that shit. We’re out back. Tashi’s gonna come get you guys.

He laughs to himself and glances over to see Patrick reluctantly handing his keys over to the clearly annoyed valet. 

He had been worried he and Heaven were gonna stop talking after he basically begged to finger fuck her and eat her out over the phone. There was an awkward lack of calls and messages for a few days and he grit his teeth and gave her space. But when he was sitting in the cafeteria with Tashi, she mentioned that Heaven’s first rehearsal was later in the afternoon and he couldn’t help himself. A quick message telling her he thinks she’ll do amazing revived the conversation between the two.

The large dark wooden door swings open and reveals Tashi in all her glory. She has her hair pinned up to look shorter and curled. She’s wearing a tight white shirt with light washed baggy jeans and golden hoop earrings. She looks great. A bright smile fills her face as she sees them, jogging halfway down the steps before tugging Art into a hug. “Hey, you guys made it.” she pulls away from him and Patrick steps forward giving her a kiss on the lips. Art doesn’t bother looking away and is surprised by how little the action bothers him. “You’re late. Heaven’s in the back with everyone else.”

Patrick rolls his eyes with a scoff to Art but otherwise lets the girl drag him along, Art following behind. The house looks even grander inside. Marble floors, long wooden tables with floral arrangements. A balloon arch leading into the backyard area. 

Tashi moves about the place like she owns it, like she does with most rooms. But it was something about knowing she and Heaven had grown up spending time here together that made the men curious. 

She steps out into the grass and smiles brightly at a group of girls that neither man recognizes, waving hi and accepting the ‘happy birthdays’ like a fucking celebrity. Music booms through several speakers and crowds of people stand in the grassy space. The gift table is filled with presents, split down the middle, one side labeled Tashi, the other Heaven.

“Tashi come dance with me.”

And there she was. Her silky dark hair is down and curled with a colorful scarf wrapped at the top. She was also wearing large gold hoops with a tight, white crop top and baggy jeans. So baggy that Patrick and Art got a clear shot of her underwear peeking through. She’s standing on the edge of the crowd with her hand outstretched for Tashi to take.

“Damn.”

“Fuck.”

Tashi smirks as the pair of men drool over Heaven, pushing from in between them and going to take her hand. “One second. You’ve got to say hi. The world’s worst boyfriend and friend are finally here.”

“Hmm,” Heaven hums, wrapping her arm around Tashi and resting their intertwined fingers on her hip.  “Late, aren’t we?”

“Uh, there was traffic-”

“He said we didn’t need to leave so early-”

Patrick and Art look at each other briefly before back at the girls.

“Hm.” 

Tashi shrugs, pulling Heaven along with her to the drinks table, ignoring the fact that Art and Patrick were tailing behind. “Did you invite my cousin Vivian? She's over there boring my hitting partner to death.”

“No,” Heaven snorts, grabs a solo cup, putting it between her teeth as she reads the different punch flavors they had in supply. “She’s a bitch, it was probably your mom, or mine-”

“Cousin Vivian, she’s the one who-” Art begins.

“Tried to drown me at Great Wolf Lodge? Yeah, fucking lunatic. I can believe you remember that story, I told you that while you were half asleep.”

“I told you I was listening, it’s fucking wild.” Art laughs.

“I don’t know it.” Patrick cuts in, eyeing the exchange with a smile. 

Heaven shrugs, passing the first cup of punch she poured to Tashi and grabbing another. “Oh, baby, the story is dorky and boring.”

“Yeah and speak of the devil and she shall appear.” Tashi chuckles, bringing the drink to her lips.

Patrick reaches into his back pocket, glancing around before producing a flask, waving it between them. “Should we, uh, make these drinks more interesting?”

Tashi’s face immediately drops and Heaven rolls her eyes, kicking Art in the shin lightly underneath the lawn table, nodding her head in Tashi and Patrick’s direction. 

“We have matches coming up. No alcohol.”

“You’re going against college kids, you’re gonna win regardless of whether you have a drop of tequila.” 

“Yeah, that’s not the point. And Heaven’s in rehearsals-”

“Heaven is a big girl-”

“Heaven, what do you want to drink?” Art pipes up, grabbing a solo cup himself and walking around the end of the table Heaven is on. 

She clasps her hands together, glancing at the first jug she sees and decides on that. “Just, some lemonade would be great.”

“Okay.” Art smiles, starting to pour. 

“I know Heaven is in rehearsals. But it’s her fucking birthday.”

Heaven’s eyes widen at that, immediately shooting to Tashi’s face. Her scowl is set in stone as she leans down into Patrick’s face. Her grumble of  “You think I don’t know that?” drowns out Heaven’s correction of “Our birthday.”

A second barely passes before Tashi is flipping her hair over her shoulder and storming off in another direction. Patrick scoffs, as if he didn’t already take a step forward to follow her, being propelled even further by Heaven’s mouthing of “fix it”. 

Art sips his own lemonade, looking to the ground and shaking his head.

“I don’t want to hear it. Seriously.”

“I wasn’t gonna say a damn thing.” He laughs, ignoring Heaven’s small fist colliding with his muscled arm. He bites back a smirk when she winces, pulling her hand back to herself. “Did you…hurt your hand?”

“Could you like, shut the fuck up? Thank you.” Heaven whines, rubbing the wounded hand with the other. “You think you’re all big and bad because college tennis is doing you good? Giving your scrawny ass some muscle.”

“Glad you noticed.” he says playfully.

Heaven opens her mouth to respond, her lips part and no words come out as she drops her gaze to the ground, taking a swig of the lemonade. Two women step out of the backyard doors and make their way over to the pair, dressed in workout clothes. One of them is a black woman that could only be Heaven’s mom. She looked exactly like what Art envisions Heaven will look like in about 20 years and if you asked Art the future is fucking bright. 

The other is an older white woman with a kind face and eyes that reminded him of Tashi. They looked like extremely unlikely friends. Heaven’s mom holds a stern face that makes Art feel like maybe he should take several steps away from her daughter right now while the other woman looks like she’d probably made the sugar cookies that people have been shoveling since he’d gotten there. 

Despite having spoken about her family, Art knows very little about Heaven's mother. All she ever mentions about the woman is that she's very invested in her dance career and has always been pretty strict. Beyond that, whenever Heaven recounts pleasant memories from her childhood with Art, they always involved her stepdad, Tashi and her family, or when she was performing. Her mom is notably absent from almost all of her stories.

Heaven’s mother lowers the dark shades rested on her face to get a good look at Art before pushing them back into place, letting go of the other woman and wrapping her arm around Heaven’s shoulders.

“Hi, mom.” Heaven smiles in a way that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, placing the cup Art poured her down on the table.

Her mother picks the cup and sniffs it before putting it back down. “Let this be the last drink you have that isn’t water, Hev. I think we’ve had enough calorie intake for the day, we don’t need you slow when you go back to rehearsals this week.”

Art’s brows furrow as he watches Heaven deflating, nodding quietly as her mom pats her stomach and talks about not eating any birthday cake on her birthday. He can’t envision anyone finding her to be anything other than beautiful, dancing or not. But he rolls his tongue in his cheek and stays silent. Maybe her mother knows something about her health that he doesn’t. 

But from Heaven’s face with the verbal lashing is over, that’s not the case. Heaven’s sad brown eyes land on Art’s and she remembers that her mom hadn’t even taken the time to introduce herself. “Mom, this is Art Donaldson. He plays tennis for Stanford.”

The inspection is on him now. Heaven’s mom scans him from top to bottom before fixing him with an unimpressed look. “Is he any good?”

“Oh, I’m…I’m pretty okay-” Art says nonchalantly, cheek dimpling with an easy smile. Heaven’s mom simply blinks at him before shifting her gaze to Heaven.

“He’s great, Mom, full tennis scholarship.” She tries. “And…Tashi says he’s really good too.”

“Well, good for you.” The older woman says, nodding at her friend waving her over. “We’re going to give you kids some space and have a late dinner over at the Duncan’s house. Nothing but fruit and water, Hev.”

Heaven just dumps the lemonade into the grass, and refills the cup with water. Art watches as her mother murmurs a patronizing ‘good girl’ into Heaven’s hair, pressing a kiss there before slinging her purse over her shoulder and power walking away. 

He searches his brain for something, anything to say that might make her feel better as she tugs her crop down a little in an attempt to cover up as her eyes follow her mother.

Heaven’s face is hot with embarrassment. She was used to her mother’s comments about her weight, her looks, her focus on dance. She knows that it's for a reason. She wants her to be the best dancer she can be and so she prioritizes that over all else. She’d given up her life to put Heaven in the best position possible to become a prima ballerina. Heaven is…grateful. She should be grateful. But it’s pressure. She’s doing what she loves, but it's never enough, there’s always weight to lose. She can always be stronger, faster, and work harder. And her skin could always be thicker. But even diamonds crack with the right amount of pressure. 

Heaven just hates when people are there to see it.

Tashi is fucking pissed. Her hitting partner was sick and she needed to practice for a tournament coming up, so she’d asked Heaven to fill in. She couldn’t count how many times she’s sat up with Heaven, watching her dance, standing in as a partner, plotting what dance she should master for which audition. She doesn’t ask for much else in return. So, the fact that the bitch failed to show up at the courts knowing what this meant to Tashi…

She’d better have a good fucking excuse.

The tennis player storms around the back of the house, not bothering with the front door and streamlining for the stone elephant statue that kept the spare key to the back door to the house, Tashi snatches the key out of the trunk hole and pushes her way in. 

Mrs. Whitlock’s car wasn’t in the driveway so she doesn’t bother stopping by the woman’s office to say hello, opting instead to stomp her way straight to Heaven’s studio. She pushes the sliding door open and prepares to tear Heaven a new one, her bag clutched tightly in her fist. She can hear her inside. She knew she’d be here. She probably found some kind of new dance she just had to learn. Or she’d forgotten her while daydreaming. Or she was late. 

Tashi fucking hates late people.

“So, it’s fuck me huh?” Tashi asks, crossing her arms as she leans in the doorway. She was right, Heaven was inside. Facing away from her, standing in front of the large mirrors, something white at her feet. When the girl doesn’t even acknowledge that she’s there, Tashi rolls her eyes and steps into the room. “Fuck you, Heaven.” 

She fully plans to whirl around and stomp her way out of the house. If she wants to forget her, ignore her, fine. Plenty of people would fucking love to be Tashi Duncan’s girlfriend. 

But then she sees that the floor is soaking wet. Heaven’s bun is curling up from the water. The girl is drenched, standing in a pink leotard, her shoulders shaking. “Heaven?” Tashi powers forward, grabbing a wet shoulder, not letting her shock show on her face as she cups the girl’s cheek, forcing her to look at her and sees the tears streaming down her face. “What the fuck’s wrong?” She leans forward to see what’s in front of her. 

A scale. 

“Heaven-”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m-” Heaven wipes a hand roughly at her cheeks, turning in Tashi’s loose grip. “Nothing, what time is it?”

“It’s…it’s uh, four.” 

Heaven’s watery eyes widen, a stray tear manages to escape as the girl glances down at the bag in Tashi’s hands. “Shit, babe, I’m late. I…got caught up. M’sorry. Let’s go practice. Really, m’sorry, let’s practice. We can walk to the court’s at the center.”

Tashi’s eyes flick between the scale and Heaven’s determined look. “You good?”

Heaven sighs, scrubbing a hand down her face. “Let’s practice.”

“Yeah?” Tashi asks, tilting her head to the side as she observes her girlfriend. The girl impatiently shifts on her feet, looking off to the side and Tashi nods. “Okay.”

“Um, so,” Heaven clears her throat. “I think my dance partners are busy. You wanna dance?”

Yes. Art thinks. Immediately yes. But, was he supposed to pretend he didn’t see that interaction? Was he supposed to act like he didn’t watch how quickly her mother was able to stomp out the light in her eyes? The flirty smile she offers him isn’t the real thing that makes his heart beat fast. “Heaven-”

“Look, Art, it’s my birthday. It’s not gonna get better in one day, and right now I want to dance with a friend.” She sighs. Heaven pulls his own drink from his lips, placing it down on the table and taking his hand as she backs towards where the crowds of people were dancing. “Is that gonna be you, or do I need to find someone else?”

The pleading look on her face wears Art down and he lets her pull him to the edge of the makeshift dance floor. “I’m not a good dancer.”

“It’s not about being good, it’s about having fun.” She grins, this time genuinely as Art lifts her hand, spinning her as she leads them the rest of the way. 

“Yeah,” he laughs sarcastically. “Says the best fucking dancer in the world.”

“Okay, okay, it’s a little bit about being good.” Heaven giggles, pushing up on her tiptoes and raising her own arm, eyebrows lifting as she waits for Art. He shakes his head chuckling.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, go.” she snorts as he rolls his eyes, ducking down under her arm so that she can spin him too. “Okay, ow, my arm, too tall.”

“See?” Art snarks, hooking his finger into her belt loop and tugging her closer, rocking them side to side as Heaven wraps her arms around his neck. 

“Okay, normally I’m the one being turned, so that’s on me.” She shrugs. The music changes and Long Way 2 Go by Cassie starts blasting through the speakers. “I fucking love this song. You know this one white boy?”

“What is with you and Tashi and calling us white boys?”

“Is that not what you are?” She asks, spinning away from him as gracefully as she had the day he’d watched her at the school theater. But this time he’s part of it. He’s not just an observer, even with her just dancing casually he’s hypnotized. He hadn’t even realized he was moving with her. She’s all there is. It’s just Heaven. “It’s about how it makes you feel. Dancing makes me feel better.”

Art nods, watching her intently as she turns in his hold, back pressed to his front, hands in his hair. “I think it feels just fucking amazing dancing with you.”

“Well,” she smiles, sliding her hands over his where they’re resting on her hips. “I think it’s fucking amazing watching you play tennis. I wanna see you play again.”

“I wanna play for you.” He says desperately. 

“You really mean that, don’t you?” Heaven grins, facing him again, pressing their fronts together, giggling as he turns his face into her palm, pressing a kiss there. “You want to play for me?”

Before he can answer, the smile drops from her face, her head turns to the left slightly as she looks off to the side. Art turns his head, his gaze follows hers and lands on Patrick and Tashi. Always Patrick and Tashi. He brings his hand up to her jaw, gently guiding her face back to his. “I want you to look at me.” 

“I am.” she whispers, looking up at him.

“Just me.”

“Art.” she says, stepping away from him with a disappointed frown.

"I know, I know, but-"

"Jesus fucking christ." She huffs, pushing his hands away completely and stomping off.

Art’s eyes scan the party carefully, as he tries to nonchalantly flick the ash from his cigarette to the ground. He has seriously cut back on smoking since he doesn’t have Patrick everyday to share them with and Tashi and Heaven turn their noses up at them. But, to say he felt anxious was an understatement. 

He’d thought they were having a…thing when they were dancing before. To be fair he’s thought they’d had a lot of ‘things’ and each time they do, she retreats back. He’d like to be able to just shrug her off. To decide that she’s more trouble than what she’s worth and obviously the opposite of available and fuck off. But he can’t. It was something about her. Her eyes, the way she moves, her smile, laugh, just…Heaven. It’s what she is. The name just fucking fits.

Which is why he’s turned away three girls since she’d scrambled away from him into the house with one look back over her shoulder that had him wanting to follow behind her like a lovesick puppy. 

So, here he was, blowing smoke into the night’s air while he stares at this pristine, glass back door that the girl he’s obsessed with that happens to be, at minimum, fucking his and her best friends, disappeared into. 

He should have some self respect. 

He should find a girl…hell he should find Tashi, the other girl who seems to occupy his mind, albeit less and less. 

He should let Heaven fuck off if that’s what she wants to do. 

How long can he beg her to like him back, to be interested in him? 

How much more can a man take?

Art, apparently, can take at least a little more.

He flicks the bud of the cigarette to the ground and pops a piece of gum into his mouth, worried that Heaven will smell the smoke on his breath when he finds her. Art pushes the door to the house open, glancing back once to see if Tashi and Patrick were still “talking” back by the garden area. 

When he’d first walked through the house he took the time to appreciate it in its glory. It’s a fucking ritzy house. It reminds him of Patrick’s house. Large and beautiful. It echoes. It’s not like his parent’s house at all. His is a family home, nicely sized but nothing as grand as this. Patrick always hated his own home, ever since he’d gone home with Art one Christmas, he almost refused to spend any holidays there. He said Art’s house seemed more ‘lived in’. Even when Art finally did get to see his best friend’s house one summer, he felt like his friend looked out of place there, even though it was where he was raised. 

But Heaven…she looks like she belongs in a place like this. A place full of beautiful things is where she should live. 

After searching the lower level Art stops at the bottom of the spiral stairs. His mom would kill him if she knew he was considering going through someone’s upper level without explicit permission like this. But, if…if there was a chance she was up there…

He respects the place enough to take his shoes off before making his way up the cold stairs. The upper level is dark and several degrees cooler than downstairs. He knows her mother stepped out about an hour ago, so he’s a little more confident as he slips through the long hallway, peeking his head in the open room doors, searching for her.

“Can we please not do this now?”

“So when, Heaven? I broke up with you and you don’t seem like you give a fuck. You haven’t checked on me once.”

Art pauses, hearing what he knows to be Heaven’s voice accompanied by a distinctly male voice in a room he can see is lit through the bottom of a sliding door.

“What was I supposed to do? Beg? I have too much shit to do. We didn’t work, that’s fine.” 

He can almost envision the shrug she must’ve given. Her voice is so unfeeling, indifferent as the man spoke passionately, voice raising that has Art stepping closer to the door. 

“So you don’t give a fuck?”

“Do you really want me to answer you?”

I wouldn’t. Art thinks to himself. 

“Fucking-you can be such a bitc-”

Heaven flinches as the door to her studio slides open roughly, wood slapping into the wall as quick, heavy footsteps make their way into the room and suddenly Trevor is ripped from in front of her. 

“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Art grits his teeth, his fists balled in Trevor’s shirt, the men stumble away from Heaven a little due to the momentum of Art rushing his way into the room. 

Heaven’s eyes widen at the act of aggression from the gentle man who literally refuses to bring his voice above a soft tone when speaking to her and it's almost humorous. Like, she didn’t know what was throwing her more, the fact that he’d basically appeared and darted in to defend her honor, or the fact that he felt like he needed to defend her from the literal nobody that is her ex Trevor that clearly came to her party because he was some kind of masochist. “Oh my god, Art, that’s not necess-”

“Jesus, Heaven, how many guys are you fucking at this party?”

Oh. Well.

 Now that he said that, she doesn’t feel bad when Art’s fist goes flying into his face.

Shocked? Yes. Bad? No.

A little turned on…maybe. 

And that tennis must be doing more for the blond man than just making his muscles look good, because Trevor fucking hit the deck. She’ll acknowledge that she was attracted to the way Art’s jaw ticks in anger as he positions himself in front of her and plays knight in shining armor. A nice guy like him getting so mad on her behalf…

“Oh, shit.” 

Trevor sputters, gripping his nose and looking up at the man in front of him. “Did you just hit me?”

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that-”

“Okay, okay, Arthur…um, wow,” Heaven chuckles humorously as she stands between the two men, nodding her head toward the door. “Trevor, get the fuck out, you dumped me okay? You win. Get the fuck out.”

The red-headed boy grits his teeth in annoyance, pushing off of the floor but opting not to do much more than give Heaven a sneer because, truthfully, this blond, preppy looking kid she has guarding her knocked the shit out of him. But as he makes his way to the door, he stops and turns, unable to hold his tongue completely. “I wouldn’t bother, man. She plays games. They only give a fuck about each other. It’s not worth it.” He finishes as he cups his aching nose, turning and leaving the room.

Heaven looks at Art at that, carefully watching his expression. She can’t tell what he’s thinking as he stares after Trevor, tight muscles still tense.  

“What am I supposed to call you my hero or something?” she jokes, awkwardly trying to break the silence. The room suddenly feels too full with Art’s presence in it, despite the fact that Trevor had left. 

“He shouldn’t be yelling at you like that.”

“Pft, Art,” she giggles, wrapping her arms around herself. “I am not afraid of Trevor. Trust me. It doesn’t matter-”

“No one should talk to you like that.” he says seriously. He doesn’t take the bait at all, and suddenly, Heaven realizes they aren’t just talking about Trevor anymore, and not only does the room feel small, she suddenly feels naked, for his examination. His eyes are somber as he looks at her, he steps forward and she’s even more crowded.

“Did you know you have heterochromia? Your eyes are a little blue…a little brown.” She tries, taking one step back for his two steps forward. Art stops, eyes flicking down at her movement before trailing back to her face. He takes a non threatening stance, shoving his hands into his pockets and tilting his head down as he looks into her eyes with the softest gaze anyone had ever given to her. He won’t push. Not if she doesn’t want him to. “Are you enjoying our party?”

Our. Right now she’s running. And he’s chasing. It seems to be how they like it. Both of them.

“I am.” He says breezily, a small smile gracing his face. “I even danced with this girl.”

“Was she hot?” Heaven jokes, walking out of the middle of the room and resting her hands behind her on one of the bars on the wall.

Like a string is pulling him, Art follows. She leads this dance. Bringing him in, enticing him to follow her, giving him a taste before pulling away for him to trail behind her again. It’s like an invisible string is pulling him when he steps forward, wetting his bottom lip as he moves to stand before her again. “Fucking gorgeous. But she left me on the dance floor.”

“What a bitch.”

He chuckles, shaking his head no. “She’s just got a lot going on.” He shrugs, looking down at his feet. Art sucks in a breath at the next thing that pops into his brain, but he can’t stop it. He looks back up at Heaven with a wry smile and releases his breath. “But I’ll wait.”

The offer hangs in the air. And Heaven retreats. Her hand shoots up to her name chain as she uses the other to clutch the bar even tighter, dragging herself closer against it. “Why?”

“Because she’s…perfect.”

Heaven’s head drops immediately at that, she purses her lips, looking over to the large mirrors to the left of them, staring at herself. “No. She’s not.”

“Yes, you are.” He says indignantly, dropping the facade and taking away the privilege of space. He reaches out and encases her wrist gently in his large hand, tugging her closer to him. Art walks them over to the mirror and pushes Heaven to stand in front of him, rubbing his hands along her sides. “You’ve got perfect everything.” His hands slide along her hips and squeeze, eliciting a gasp from Heaven. “Perfect hips. Perfect legs-” they move to the front of her thighs before trailing over her pelvis and along her stomach, “Perfect stomach and arms,” Art’s hands squeeze Heaven’s shoulders before dropping back to her stomach, holding her against him, “Perfect shoulders, and neck-” he murmurs against the soft skin of her shoulder before dragging his way up to her neck, placing deep kisses there.

He expects her to push him away. He feels her hand slip up into his blond curls like it had when they’d danced, but she just pulls him closer. Her back arches forward slightly as she tugs his hair and he kisses her neck. “Art-”

“You’re so fucking perfect, please let me touch you.” he pleads. And forces himself to wait. All he wants to do is bruise her perfect neck. Leave his mark. Make her feel good. Know that he did it. Art knows he’s playing the long game. The first match that he lost to Patrick, it was just the first set. The game isn’t over. Art wants to win.

So he fucking waits.

He’s easygoing, and offers her a smile when she wrenches herself from him, breathing heavily and rushing off to a bathroom to get a first aid kit from his hand he hadn’t even noticed started bleeding. 

“Does, um…does that hurt?”

“No.” He says, sitting criss-crossed on the polished wooden floor with Heaven perched in front of him, refusing to look up from his hand. “Thank you.” he smiles sweetly.

“Yeah, for sure.” She stammers, finishing off with the last of her band-aids. “Sorry, they’re all my skin tone-”

“No, it’s fine, thank you, Heaven.” He tries to soothe her nervousness. “She’s a fucking medic too, ladies and gentlemen. See, fucking amazing.”

Heaven rolls her eyes and leans down, pressing a light kiss to his hand. “All better.”

Art hangs his head, laughing breathily and before looking back at her, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You suck you know that?”

A small grin forms on Heaven’s own face as she rocks from side to side. “What? Why?”

“How is a guy not supposed to fall in love with you when you’re doing shit like that?” He says, laying back on the wooden floors, absently thinking how nice it would be to see her dance again as he envisions what it's like in here when she’s alone, letting go, dancing for herself.

Heaven shrugs, laying down beside him, nudging his arm. “I dunno. Remember that I'm dating your best friend…and mine…and that you walked in on my ex basically calling me the wicked bitch of the west-”

“He’s stupid, you’re a goddamn princess.”

“I just dance like one, Art,” she turns her head to face him and wiggles her eyebrows. “It’s all an illusion.” 

“No. It’s not.” He says, reaching over and taking her hand, bringing it to his lips before resting it on his chest, toying with her fingers with his own. Heaven groans loudly, kicking her feet up and letting them slap back to the floor sloppily. “What?” he chuckles.

She sits up, twisting her body and planting both hands on the floor, one on each side of his head, her hair dangling around them as she stares down at him. His blue and brown eyes swirl with something she’s not willing to acknowledge as she stares down at him. Heaven leans down, bringing her face close to his. “You’re not making this easy for me, Arthur.”

He offers her an innocent look back, willing himself not to tug her down the rest of the way. “Can’t help it.”

“Hev,” a voice calls from the doorway. Heaven scrambles back from Art, leaping to her feet and sees Tashi leaning in the doorframe, an easy smile on her lips. Her arms are crossed as she takes them in. “We’re ready to sing happy birthday. It’s a few minutes ‘til midnight, you’ll officially be 19. You done here?” She asks, a cocky smile on her face as she raises her eyebrows.

“Um,” Heaven smoothes her hair out, glancing down briefly at Art who is still on the floor, staring up at her. “Yeah.”

Walking straight for the door, Heaven grabs Tashi’s hand and leads her out of the room, powering forward as she drags her girlfriend out of the room. She doesn’t bother looking back for the blond man she left behind, painting a smile on her face as they made their way back outside. 

As their friends and family countdown from 10 she and Tashi are guided to the middle of the backyard with a large cake in front of them, their names scribbled next to each other. Heaven squeezes Tashi’s hand, pulling her closer and wrapping her arm around her as they look at the blue and pink candles lit in front of them. “It wasn’t anything, T.”

“S’okay, babe. Seriously.” Tashi says through her smile as one of the girls from school takes a picture of them, cupping Heaven’s face and kissing her deeply. She knows that he’s watching. That they’re both watching.

So Art won a set. So the fuck what? Tashi smiles to herself as Heaven grins at her, murmuring a happy birthday as they hug each other. She can see the two men standing together, watching them intently, not knowing if they were jealous of them or because of them, and she knows the match isn't over.

[sanjisblackasswife]

So.... Hello! I'm not Very good at english since it's not my language but here we Go. I wanna to say i really love your art (from fanarts to your write style) and i Hope you have a good day today. Anyway i don't know If your ask are ope but How the Monsters trio Will react with they being your First in everthing! (Like First Kiss, First love, First s*x, etc) you can do nsfw-ish If you wanted

aww thank u!:) I am not going to go into grave detail because I am already doing a “First time” series with them but i like this request💓imma do it moreso where you’re THEIRS if thats alright

Being the Monster Trio’s First (NSFW-ish)

Black Fem Reader in Mind

CW: Mentions of sex

I am half sleep and typing this all in one go so mb for my spelling errors im just making up for lost time not posting consistently because school and coms☹️

Being Luffy’s First:

Crush: Being his crush is no different from being his best friend, he isn’t a very romantic guy if he likes you he will just tell you, “Y/N I think about you a lot, and I also think you may have a Lust DF power because when I think of you i get hard.” Bless him he is very blunt. BUT he does mean what he says so..be nice?

Kiss: Probably the most anticlimactic thing ever. Luffy already licks your face, hugs, and touches you a lot so when he starts running at you after a fight to see if you’re okay BAM. His lips smack into yours like a bowling ball and honestly. It’s cute. Completely uncoordinated, damn near sucked your bottom lip off, but…there was just something so addictive and attractive to his kiss that made you want more

Love: Very odd in his case. He just thought he liked you a lot. The signs were evident though, when you tell him he doesn’t deny it persay he moreso brushes it off because being in love is so new to him. However being his first love is something you can’t forget. He reminds you everyday why you’re important. Why he loves you. And why he fell in love with you.

Sexual Encounter: It was fun! You both were inexperienced. He didn’t know what hole to enter, you were shocked by how long he can stretch his dick. You both even spent the night laughing more than actually having sex, but once it came down to business it was a learning experience for you both. He was so attentive to make sure you were okay you felt yourself crying a little afterwards at how gentle he was with you.

Being Zoro’s First:

crush: He’s actually more of an asshole to you Not even on purpose he just doesn’t want to admit his feelings towards you. You’re beautiful, sweet, and charming and dammit he hates that he has feelings and how you always mess them up when you’re around him! He feels so powerless so please be gentle with him…or put him on blast. It maybe attractive to the mf.

Kiss: Awkward, awkward, awkward. He isn’t the rizzmaster okay. Yes he is pretty and he knows it but he is crap to flirting. absolutely crap. He was so hot in the face when you did the first move and kissed him he was a stuttering mess and pulled you back in for another kiss to prevent you from laughing at him. His kisses wasn’t BAD but …just practice with him. Yeah it was awkward but seeing your face so close and personal, smelling your scent. He couldn’t get enough.

Love: DENIAL IS A RIVER IN EGYPT Absolutely ridiculous how in denial he was. Everytime someone even said the word love he’d get so mad because that word applied to you in so many ways. He fell for you and he couldn’t do anything about it. You were the one opponent he could not beat and honestly, he didn’t want to. He fell for you and he fell so hard that it actually makes him nervous to be around you. He doesn’t know whether he loves you or hates you now for being so irresistible to him. Eventually he comes to terms with it and once it does and you feel the same way. Good luck getting rid of him.

Sexual Encounter: You taught him everything. He didn’t know his way from the clit to your ass. It took a lot of trial and error, sex wasn’t really NEW to him. He has seen porn but it’s completely different from films and pictures so sometimes he would back down when making out got too far, eventually he needed that release one late night while cuddling you and even though he could have went to the bathroom you stopped him and …helped him out. Let’s just say Zoro is so grateful he didn’t pussy out this go round!

Being Sanji’s First:

Crush: Sanji is an interesting guy because any woman that knows Sanji knows he is a mixture of a flirt and just having amazing manners for women. You however was just above the usual women he served to. Being his crush was an experience because you seen a side to Sanji most women don’t get to see. You seen him stand up straighter, sly comments that made your heart melt, and even kept his cool…too cool in fact. He really was Mr. Prince for you.

Kiss: The first kiss he planned it out. He knew his feelings about you and that you felt the same so he needed to plan it just right not just for him, but for you as well. The kiss was so soft and delicate you almost didn’t feel it. And that was because he shy’ed away for a moment, scared his sudden bold move would have you smack him, Luckily, he didn’t have to worry feeling your hands cup his cheek to kiss him back. He still touches his lips when he thinks about that time you kissed him.

Love: I mean man…you really are a blessed woman because out of all of the others he has seen and been with he chose you and only you. it’s insane really. He tries in his entire will to not mess this opportunity to find true love up. You being his first love he watches his mouth and actions around you more, He tries his hardest not to ruin the view you have of him and it shows. If you can just reassure him you love him for him and not who he thinks he needs to be. Sanji needs the confirmation that you love him almost as much as he loves you.

Sexual Encounter: LORD—- okay. okay. Just like Zoro trial and error HOWEVER. Much longer and worse. He really is still a pervert no matter how much in love he is with you so you have to take it very slow. Once you both are okay to be naked in front of each other he is back to being a shy boy so you constantly kiss and praise him, telling him how good he is for you, how well he is doing for his first time. You were so kind and patient with him, it never fails to leave a chill down his spine (in a good way) when he remembers that night of love making with you, and now that he has more experience he does nothing but reciprocate the same feelings back to you in bed.

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest (1)

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: angst, mention of trauma and violence ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She remembered exactly the one sunny afternoon when, still being a small child, she walked with her father into an old, gigantic Gothic church that seemed to her to be so high that it reached up to the sky.

As they stepped inside they were struck by the distinctive smell of incense, dampness and a strange, disturbing echo with each of their steps, as if reminding them that they were in the House of God.

She remembered clearly the narrow, long windows filled with figures of saints, shimmering with various colours of glass, as if they were really looking at her from the heavens themselves. The rays of the sun shone through them like the glory of God himself, and she thought then that she wanted to learn more about them.

She quickly began to draw. At first it was just her favourite cartoon characters, but as she got older she began to take an interest in art and paintings − on all her school trips she would look curiously at the works of the old masters in art galleries and then read about them at home.

When she managed to get into a painting department at a state university, it seemed like the happiest day of her life. One of the specialisations she could choose after the first year was that of stained glass, and it made her face flush all the more because she knew who taught there.

Although there were as many as three professors in the stained glass department, only one, the youngest of them, namely Professor Targaryen was so spectacularly successful internationally, to which he also owed his quick habilitation being only six years older than her.

For all she knew his talent had already been recognised during his studies and he was now carrying out gigantic commissions for new churches built by the richest archbishops.

She had seen his work in one of the churches in her town and had to admit that he was one of the best stained glass artists of their generation.

The holy figures in his works seemed light and halting, partly Baroque and partly Mannerist, their faces expressing some kind of heavenly anticipation, wonder or melancholy, the colours of the glass he chose contrasting wonderfully under the sunlight, creating a breathtaking composition.

He was a genius.

During her first year at university, she saw him fleetingly several times during a class on the basics of stained glass design, where everyone, no matter what specialisation they wanted to choose afterwards, learned how to cut glass with diamond blades, paint it and apply patina.

They were then taught by his assistant professor, Cregan Stark, and Professor Lannister's doctoral student, Meera. Both were very warm and patient – she took great joy in these lessons and stayed after hours to complete her work.

One day Cregan stood over her and seeing her painting her saint's face for the third time, this time with satisfying results, he nodded his head in approval.

"You are very hardworking and you are doing well. You should choose stained glass as a speciality." He said softly. She blushed all over and hopped up in her chair, happy.

"I am so pleased to hear that. I would love to study in your workshop under Professor Targaryen." She said quickly with excitement in her voice, and he raised his eyebrows and laughed. She blinked, confused.

"Forget about it, I advise you well. You're a good girl and you don't deserve what would happen to you there." He said, scratching his chin, looking at her apologetically, as if he resented himself for getting her hopes up. She felt a tightness in her throat not understanding what he was implying.

"What do you mean, sir?" She asked uncertainly and he sighed heavily.

"Ask your fellow students."

His words kept her awake and made her feel very uncomfortable – she had heard that Professor Lannister sometimes liked to flirt with his female students.

Was Professor Targaryen the same way?

Or worse?

Reflecting on this, she realised as she walked past the room where his students worked that she had never seen any women.

She asked this out loud the next day to her female colleagues, who looked at her surprised.

"Didn't you hear about that incident two years ago? He slapped one female student in the face during class. And she wasn't even his student! It landed him on the rug with the rector himself and he almost didn't get fired from the university. He owes his position only to his achievements and that thanks to him our university keeps getting new assignments from the curia." Said Ellyn, and she swallowed loudly, shocked by her words.

"Is it known why he did it?" She asked uncertainly. Lysa shrugged her shoulders.

"Apparently it enraged the rector the most. He didn't explain why he did it, he just said that she deserved it and that no whore – he probably meant woman – would cross the threshold of his workshop. He has one artificial eye and a huge scar, maybe because no woman wants him he behaves this way."

She lowered her gaze, heartbroken, feeling the cold sweat on the back of her neck, her heart pounding like mad.

What kind of man was this?

Now she wasn't surprised why Cregan had told her to let it go.

However, the closer she got to choosing a speciality and a workshop, the more she felt the need to fight for what she wanted.

Maybe if she stayed away from him and just worked hard he would give her a break?

Maybe he was annoyed by the way the girls dressed or behaved?

She decided to give it a try.

Despite everyone warning her not to do so, she submitted the papers, writing his name as her supervisor, whose workshop she applied to.

She had a feeling that it would lead to some kind of earthquake, but in the field of stained glass she wanted to be like him.

She thought through how she would dress – she decided that since she didn't like women, she would try to look as neutral and bland as possible.

She put on a large black hoodie from under which neither her breasts nor her buttocks were visible, tight black trousers and trainers. She tied her hair up in an elaborate braid to keep it out of her face, applied only foundation and no other make-up.

Dressed like this, she came to the first meeting of the new semester, where students found out what classes they had and met their lecturers.

She entered the room full of men and complete silence fell; she saw that the professor wasn't there yet, so she sat down with her notepad and pen at the very end of the table to just disappear. One of the boys with dark, curly hair turned to her.

"You're brave, but I already feel sorry for you. He'll kick you the fuck out of here." He said amused, several of the other boys laughed nervously.

She lowered her gaze, horrified, beginning to regret doing this instead of going to another professor who would have welcomed her applications with open arms.

When the door suddenly opened she curled into herself, not looking in that direction, resting her chin on her hand, swallowing loudly. She heard the sound of a chair being pushed back and someone sighing, then the rustling of pages.

"I'll start by reading out the list and welcoming the new students." She heard a cold, indifferent, stern voice that sent shivers through her, felt her breath get stuck in her throat with fear.

"Allan Baratheon."

"Mark Arryn."

"Royce Hightower."

"Matthias Martell."

"Well. I welcome you and will get straight to the task ahead of you this term." He said calmly, putting down the sheet of paper – she felt the stares of all the students on her.

He hadn't read her out.

She was sure she was on the list.

She pressed her lips together lifting her gaze to the boy who had spoken to her earlier – he just raised his eyebrows with a shrug of his shoulders in an I told you so gesture.

For a moment she wondered what she should do, feeling tears of helplessness under her eyelids – still not looking at him she raised her trembling hand slowly upwards. She heard him fall silent for a moment, but then he continued as if nothing had happened.

"− I have decided to hold a competition for the best design for three window quarters with a representation of the Virgin Mary surrounded by saints. The design will be chosen by me and the bishop, who will pay for the whole order, and then the whole workshop will work together to make this chosen design. Cregan will send you by e-mail the dimensions of each window and which specific saints are to be depicted. That's all."

He said and simply stood up, taking his papers and coffee and left, not paying any attention to her or her hand. Her classmates looked at her in shock.

"Oh fuck, that was horrible. He completely pounced on you. I'm so sorry." Her year mate said, patting her on the back, and she burst into tears, hiding her face in her hands.

"Don't cry. This is not about you. Go to Lannister and don't spoil your nerves." Said one of the older students and everyone slowly began to leave the room.

She looked blankly at her notebook and decided that she would try one last time.

She would try to talk to him.

She left and approached the locked room where a placard with his name on it was posted. She heard two voices coming from it, in one she recognised Cregan.

"− she's not like that, Aemond. Really. She focuses on her work, she's diligent. Three times I made her start the same face over and she did it without saying a word. She is humble and learns quickly. It's a shame to give her up to waste to Jason or Floris −" She heard Stark's voice and felt warm in her heart at the thought of him trying to defend her. For a moment he was answered by silence.

"No. There are always problems with them sooner or later. She was almost crying by now. I don't want any weepy scenes in my workshop. I −"

He didn't finish because of the loud knock on their door. She heard someone stand up inside, then the door opened and she saw Cregan standing in front of her. He shook his head quickly letting her know that this was a very bad idea, but she had already made up her mind.

She wanted to look him in the face before she gave up completely.

"Please, find five minutes for me, Professor." She directed her words to him rather than Cregan.

He sighed heavily, stepping back and it was only then that she noticed a fair-haired man with his short hair pulled back in black turtleneck, looking at her as if he had never seen a more disgusting thing on earth.

His artificial eye was cold and lifeless, his nostrils moving restlessly, his jaw clenched tight – she thought he looked more like a sculpture rather than a human being.

He seemed empty to her, created from stone rather than flesh.

He was silent for a long time and then rolled his eyes, sighing heavily and hummed under his breath, pulling out his phone, turning on the stopwatch.

"Five minutes." He said lowly, and Cregan quickly walked out, leaving them alone, closing the door behind him. She wanted to come closer, but his voice stopped her.

"Don't come up, just stand there and talk. You're running out of time." He burst out coolly, still facing her in profile, tapping his fingers impatiently on his armrest. She swallowed loudly, feeling her throat dry up, and opened her mouth to tell him all that she was holding inside.

"I know what rules you have set in your workshop and I wish very much now that I had been born a man, but unfortunately I am not." She said with difficulty hearing her voice tremble. She glanced at him and saw that he was still listening to her, so she continued.

"I saw your artworks while I was still in high school at St. John's Cathedral, and having always dreamed of creating stained glass for churches, I wanted to be taught by someone who is such an accomplished specialist in the field as you are, sir. I know how difficult the job is and I promise to do what you tell me to do without a shadow of dissatisfaction. I will not approach you except to revise my designs or projects. I will always work at the furthest table and sit in the last seat as far away from you as possible, dressing in such a way that you do not notice me and forget my existence on a daily basis. Please." She whispered the last word weakly – she saw his adam's apple waving as he swallowed loudly, tense.

He remained silent.

"Just because you're a fan of my works doesn't make you a talented person. What good is it to me that you work in silence if none of your pieces will be at least satisfactory and your colleagues will have to correct your mistakes?" He asked dryly, lifting his stern gaze to her – she swallowed loudly, feeling small, feeling like a nobody.

She did not bring her designs with her.

"Well. All I have with myself now are quick sketches in my notebook. They're portraits of people I see travelling on the bus to my classes." She said quickly and he sighed heavily, frustrated, and ran his hand over his face.

"So you are unprepared." He summarised, and she furrowed her brow, shaking her head.

"None of my colleagues had to −" She began, but he threw her a sharp, annoyed look and she realised at once that she had to back off, had to humble herself.

"− I − yes, I'm unprepared. I'm very sorry." She mumbled, fiddling with her notebook in her hands, her lips tightening.

He turned his head away from her, but extended his hand towards her in a movement full of impatience. She approached him uncertainly, handing him her sketchbook without touching his skin. He sighed and began to look quickly through what was inside without interest.

She saw that he had stopped at a few drawings, depicting a young woman with a child on her lap, an old man wearing a large black cap and winter scarf, and a stooped man asleep leaning his temple against the glass.

She saw him massaging his forehead and closing his eyes, clearly fighting with himself internally. He closed her notebook and waved it in his hand.

"Three of your fifteen sketches I would consider good. Do you think that's enough?" He asked dryly, without even looking at her. She felt a squeeze in her heart and a wave of disappointment knowing what he meant to say.

"No. It's not enough."

He hummed under his breath agreeing with her opinion, and then with a light flick of his hand, he tossed her notebook into the bin that stood by his desk. He glanced at her reaction and she gasped.

He wanted her to cry, to run out hurt and humiliated, to leave him alone.

No.

"So I'll do 200 sketches, 40 of which will be good. Or 300 of which 60 will be good. I will do as many of them as you see fit, Professor." She said with an effort, trying with all her might not to cry again.

He looked at her coldly in silence, the bell on his phone ringing out like something final. She felt cold sweat on the back of her neck as he reached over and muted his app, turning his profile back to her again.

"400 sketches. And they're all supposed to be good. Without them, don't even show yourself to me. Anything else?" He asked, and she shook her head.

"No. Thank you for the chance, Professor." She muttered and just walked out, closing the door behind her, feeling her whole body tremble.

He wasn't a man, but a walking monster breathing fire.

Cregan walked up to her, looking at her in horror, clearly seeing how pale she was.

"Did he agree?" He asked in a whisper, as if he was afraid he would hear them.

"He told me to bring him 400 good sketches and not to show my face to him without it." She mumbled apprehensively, wondering how long it would take her and how she would decide which were good and which were not. Stark looked at her in disbelief.

"I know it's no consolation, but you've just achieved the impossible." He said with some kind of admiration, and she sidestepped him, not knowing if she could call it that herself.

When she got home she started searching the gossip portals in the hope of finding out something about the incident from a few years ago, guessing that it must have been a big scandal and she was not disappointed.

Admittedly, she couldn't find his statement anywhere, and the student he slapped gave a wide-ranging explanation.

Professor Targaryen showed an unhealthy interest in me from the beginning and was also unpleasant and disrespectful. When we were left alone and I went to him to ask him to proofread my work, as my professor was on sick leave at the time and I wanted to move on with my job, he rose with anger and slapped me on the cheek shouting that I had no right to enter his workshop and invade his privacy. I believe this stems from his complexes and fear of women, and I regret that no justice reached him for this. Unfortunately, in this university everyone cleans each other's hands.

She read this, and she decided that she needed to be wary of him and keep her distance, not to approach him or frustrate him.

She spent the next week from morning to night sketching, sitting in the park and looking at people passing by, but she wasn't satisfied with her results.

She recalled her sketches he had stopped at and wondered what they had in common. She thought that as well as a study of the body there was a kind of melancholy and lightness in them, a snapshot of some fragment of life and situation.

She decided to go to church.

She made sketches of figures from the paintings in prayerful exultation, sculptures facing the heavens with outstretched hands, close-ups of their faces.

She thought he meant a character study like Leonardo da Vinci did, who caught facial expressions and gestures on the fly, making the viewer of his drawings go through a thrill of excitement.

She went round all the temples in her city and ended up with 500 sketches, from which she selected the agreed 400. She decided for her own satisfaction to bring him 401 drawings, which she managed to pack into two big folders.

She did not find him in his office so she set off towards his workshop where his senior students and her year mates were gathered. However, she didn't cross its threshold but knocked on the doorframe, eager to get his attention, to get permission to cross that magic line.

He was just leaning over another student's projects and glanced at her with a sharp, disgruntled look, clearly hoping he would never see her again. She lifted up her folders showing that she had brought what he wanted – he sighed heavily and moved towards her, avoiding her by a wide margin.

"Follow me." He said dryly, so she went straight after him. They entered a room with illuminated tables on which glass was usually cut and painted.

"Lay them out here. Show me the top 40." He said impatiently, and she swallowed loudly, wondering what she should show him. Her hesitation frustrated him.

"Can't you judge which of your works are suitable to be shown to me?" He growled and she shook her head, quickly searching for the works that were most memorable to her.

The woman turning to her over her shoulder with an enigmatic smile, the angel looking up to the heavens with his lips parted, the distraught Mother of God looking at her suffering son, Mary Magdalene humbly bent over in prayer, the nun covering her face with her hand, leaning over in thought.

She put down sheet after sheet, counting in her head, but then she lost track, stood up, trying to count them all over again, her heart pounding like mad.

"That's enough." He commanded coolly and walked over to the table, this time looking at each of her works in turn.

She stood at a great distance from him, not daring to come close, his face thoughtful, sharp and tense, his brow furrowed.

She was afraid he was about to humiliate her again, start crumpling up sheet after sheet and throwing them in the dustbin. He picked up a few, however, taking a closer look at them.

"Is that a figure from the church of St Michael the Archangel?" He asked indifferently, and she nodded quickly. He hummed under his breath and added nothing, putting the piece of paper down, watching further, his hands entwined at his back.

It seemed to her that his silence lasted for ages.

"A month. For a trial. If you disappoint me, I'll kick you out." He said low and unenthusiastic, turned and walked out, simply leaving her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hiding her face in her hands, and burst into sobs.

She had made it.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[starhrtz]

— 001. ACTING FANTASY

CHAPTER PREMISE — you didn’t expect to be dragged into a mess when you made friends with a certain red headed girl, a simple interview day somehow turned to a chaotic mess.

SERIES PREMISE — after a mysterious death, you find yourself being reborn as an actor's daughter. everything seems to be smooth-sailing in this life before you came across a strange star eyed boy during your junior year in high school. this strange yet fortune encounter leads to a spiral of love yet grief.

CONTAINS — 1.1k+ word count uhh nothinh else i think

A/N — oh em gee first chapter is finally released !!! AND YES I DID MAKE A LOT OF PJSK REFERENCES :')

series masterlist | next

"grades aren't everything-"

Your parents' voice was zoned out as your eyes stared at your report book, your smile faltered as you noticed your grades have been going down and down. What was the point in trying if your grades would always stay so low no matter how much you tried? You were always convinced that you are just like your brother, smart and the best at everything so why does this sheet of paper differ from what you heard throughout your life? Why were you third in your class, you have always been at the top so why are you dropping all of a sudden? You still remembered clearly, the two classmates snickering and smirking at you proudly showing off their grades. They…don't deserve it, your teeth were gritted as you walked home.

Why was it them who were at the top? None of their work was as good as yours, their grammar and sentence structure needed work… right? Oh, how you hated their grins, you could tell by their faces that they knew you hated losing especially coming in third place but they also knew that you suspected them of using their parent's money to bribe the school. What kind of school is this? Letting people bribe the school staff just so they could be at the top? What a bunch of spoiled-

"Hinomori, are you alright?"

A voice snapped you out of your train of thought, you took a deep breath before looking over to your new friend and potential classmate. (name) hinomori was the new identity you yield after the incident, that grin that they had on their face… It reminded you of your classmates. You haven't told anyone about your reincarnation, your family not your group mates after all they'll most likely call you crazy or just laugh it off thinking it was a joke. Reincarnation… was a silly thing if you had to be honest, perhaps the fate you suffered from really was a cruel one? You plastered on a reassuring smile and looked at the red-haired girl.

"Mhm just slightly nervous about the interview that's all, but you do know you could call me by my first name.. Kana."

"Y-yeah, I know I'm just not used to it that's all! I am a big fan of your work too…"

Kana exclaimed while whispering the last part which you slightly laughed at before Kana was called to the interview room. Yota high school was one of the few schools which had a performing arts program, though it was only eligible to people affiliated with a company it did make you feel grateful you and your friends were scouted not long ago by SEKAI productions due to their recent project wanting groups with different personalities to make a debut under their name yet the company was far from sketchy. All the staff and idols were always welcoming to new debuts, even going as far as a small party.

You looked out the window as you waited your turn, it disappointed you that none of the other members of A✩𝖱𝖠 came to this school so sadly you were alone in this school… You sighed before hearing your name being called out by one of the interviewers, Kana gave you a confident smile and a thumbs up wishing you good luck. You smiled and gave her a quick wink as you walked into the performing arts room, you shouldn't show any signs of fear or hesitation that was one of the things your parents taught you whenever they made you go for auditions.

"I'm (name) Hinomori, affiliated with SEKAI Productions."

. . . . . . . . . . . .

As you walked out of the interview room, you breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps you should ask Airi to make the choreography a little easier later, though you knew you most likely aced the interview judging by the interviewer's faces alone. You sighed as you walked the empty hallways,though you were rather happy about being born into such a successful life it still sort of upsets you when you had to attend high school again after all your senior year was where your grades started going downhill…

“WHAT THE HECK!!?!”

Kana’s shrieking could be heard from further down the hall way. Yet when you reached there you saw Kana along with two other people who you don’t reconsider, but judging by Kana’s face they might be her friends..?

“I’LL BULLY YOU, I REALLY WIL-“

“Kana, there you are!”

You exclaimed walking up to the trio, while the blonde boy seemed to be confused on who you are yet the girl who you assumed to be his sister seems to be starstrucked? Their eyes… were pretty. That was the first thing that came to your mind as you got a better view of how they look, you snapped out of your thoughts before looking back at Kana.

“I didn’t want to be the crying girl’s junior but if it means that Hinomori could be my senior, I’ll gladly endure her whining!”

“Hey I got ears, ya’know!”

You muffled a giggle as you watched the two argue, was the brother too used to this type of situation? It looked like the two weren’t going to stop arguing anytime soon, you sighed and looked at the blonde boy who seemed rather deep in thought.

“Wait, have you worked with Gotanda Taishi before? I think I saw you once in his films…”

You looked up with them and nervously smiled, even when your parents were actors somehow… it didn’t suit right you or perhaps it made you slightly cringed whenever you watched clips of yourself acting though it was most likely the latter if you had to be honest, yet even when you told your parents about your decision to quit acting they weren’t upset. Sure, in their eyes there was disappointment but it held approval as well perhaps because you made your own choice of career paths at a young age?

“I haven’t heard that name in a while… but yeah I did. Why’d you ask?”

He shrugged his shoulders, after all what was he meant to say? That the director, his boss, used one of your quotes that you had said on tv once to try and motivate him? Of course not, scaring you wasn’t his goal and he was pretty sure Ruby might kill him if he tries and scare you away from them.

“Well, see ya, I’m heading over to the director’s place.”

Somehow, you felt it was directed to you yet it caught Kana’s attention, immediately breaking away from her and Ruby’s petty fight though could it really be considered a fight? “Wait where do you think your going!” Kana shouted running after Aqua, taking your hand and following him. Oh god, what have you dragged yourself into now?

please do reblog or comment if you like this!! It rlly makes me motivated to see positive comments or reblogs w tags!!

➜ TAGLIST: @aranachan @cerisearan @miyakoa @yevene @atomi-mi @bajifairyy @itonashi @lxry-chxn @rymtea @kult-o

[yumedoca]

"It's a rumic world!!"

Day 7 of @rumicworldweek - Happy Birthday Rumiko Takahashi!! 🎉

Sadly, no art for today since it seems I've hit an artblock after drawing for almost an entire week 😭, but to be fair everything drawn for this week was for sensei's birthday after all. I wanted to draw art for Mermaid Saga, One Pound Gospel and Rumic Theatre, but unfortunately there's only seven days in a week (though I have drawn art for Mermaid Saga like a week earlier and I have drawn an art for one of the Rumic Theatre stories months ago. Sorry One Pound Gospel, eventually!!) And plus, when it comes to topic of Rumiko Takahashi and her works, I decided to talk about it rather than draw...

Rumiko Takahashi... Honestly, all her works mean a lot to me. Each have it's own reasons, reasons why they're more than just mere stories to me. I guess it's mainly because of how good of a storyteller she is. Here's a little tidbit from her which may show why:

And boy, does it make me feel exactly how she wants it to. She knows what the reader looks forward to and she delivers just that while having fun. The amount of love and passion in her works in insane and the little details put to the story and characters are exactly what I love about her tales. Then there's the amount variety when it comes to her stories which I think is the most obvious when you pick up just one volume of the rumic theatre, one moment you're reading a hijinks story about a boy who just want to deliver newspapers but keeps getting interrupted by invaders and half- fishmen and the next moment you'll be reading a horror where this high school kid who knows archery is trying save his girlfriend from being murdered by his yandere cousin.

Honestly, just the amount of one shots she have is enough to prove how much as well as the number of chapters her serializations have is enough to show how much dedication and passion RT has for manga and this dedication is just what makes their quality so good. Urusei Yatsura makes me laugh and reminds me to have fun and enjoy life. Maison Ikkoku taught me about growing up. Mermaid Saga is a spine-chilling story which talks about the price of greed. Ranma 1/2 brings about the topic of familial love besides the romance itself. I've only watched the OVA for One Pound Gospel, but what intrigues me the most is the fact that the main pairing is a boxer and a nun, it's like the strangest pairing you could make but Kosaku and Sister Angela make it work and let's just say I love these kind of strange pairings, lol. Inuyasha talks about letting go from the past while still keeping the important within you. Kyoukai no RINNE is quite nostalgic to me as someone who grew up in a family who's very keen on saving money and a lot of moments make me laugh because I've been similar situations and it's nice to look back on them. And finally, MAO is the series I'm currently growing up with.

I know Rumiko Takahashi will never see this but.. Thank you so much for everything, your characters and stories managed to lift my spirits in the darkest of times and remind me that everything will eventually be okay. I know I'm not the only one who thinks this and all of what I've said is why I love Rumiko Takahashi and her stories.... ♥

I'm glad that I was able to participate in this year's Rumic World Week. Thanks to everyone who's liked and reblogged my posts and I hope everyone reading this has a great day ahead!! 🌹

«previous

«first»

[laurrrelise]

mike schmidt headcanons

i’ve never posted before but i’m a huge jhutch fan and i had fun writing these :)

mike is absolutely a cat person. the only reason they don’t have a cat is because he was too embarrassed to look “un-manly” and buy one himself. he found one outside at one point, and kept trying to get abby to want to take it in and keep it, but she didn’t really want a pet to have to take care of so mike just let it go. mike leaves leftover food outside for it when he remembers, and stops and spends time with it when it’s lingering outside his porch.

he likes to surprise abby with new toys, even if he doesn’t have the extra money for it. her favorites are dragon action figures and stuffed animals (polar opposites ??) and he finds cool smaller ones at the dollar store. she can tell the difference, but pretends not to notice to make mike feel proud of himself. she also likes them, anyways.

mike drinks a lot of water. he drinks almost nothing but water. he very rarely drinks alcohol because he was invited to a high school party at one point, got super drunk, then jumped on a pool table and tried to do a backflip. he broke his leg and was humiliated, and vowed that he’d never drink again. (not completely true, because he goes for a beer once in a blue moon, but it’s so rare that it barely counts.)

him and abby have a 15 year age difference, but she takes care of him just as much as he takes care of her. when he’s super tired after work, she reminds him to brush his teeth before he goes to bed. she brings him a blanket when he falls asleep on the couch. she grabs his keys when he leaves them on the dining table, the kitchen counter, his nightstand, or her dresser, and puts them on the coat hooks so he’ll never lose them. she picks up on when he’s having really really hard days, and even though it’s hard for her, she eats for him.

(i’ve realized this one really isn’t canon, but i don’t care, it’s cute and i want it) mike has curly hair. abby doesn’t. neither does their mom, or their dad, or their little brother, garrett. (he’s older than abby, but shut up and let me have this) abby is jealous of mike’s curls. so, reluctantly, mike taught himself how to curl hair. he found a cheap curling iron at the convenience store down the street from their house and practiced on himself, burning his hands like crazy, and hiding it from abby. the first time he successfully curled her hair, she gave him the biggest hug and ate her entire dinner without having to be begged.

mike loves cleaning. he hates waking up early, but he doesn’t mind when he gets to turn on his music and spend an entire morning cleaning the house. he also really loves his music. he loves divorced dad rock. nickel back, green day, smash mouth, the black keys, etc. he loves putting a cd (he burned some illegally, abby helped him) into his boombox and blasting it at 7 a.m. he’ll walk into abby’s room, nodding to the music and singing along confidently, waking her up and laughing with her when she makes fun of him. but, still, she helps him clean.

abby is really good in school. she has to be, because mike is a bit of a bumbling idiot when it comes to math and english etiquette. the last time she asked him for help on her homework, even though it was just simple multiplication, mike ended up staring at the page for ten minutes before calling his neighbor to ask if she could help because he was “busy”. (he was bored out of his mind, but he couldn’t figure out what 36x5 was, and was too embarrassed to admit it.)

mike loves sweets, but he prefers his coffee bitter. he has a chocolate stash that he keeps on top of the kitchen cabinets for when abby is really good. he also has it because chocolate is his #1 craving when he wakes up in the middle of the night.

mike loves when abby draws him. sometimes, he’ll find her looking at him while she’s coloring, and he’ll hold the pose for as long as he possibly can to be a useful reference to her. he will never criticize her art. drawing is abby’s comfort place, so even when he’s so upset with her that he could rip his own hair out, he would never even think to insult her artwork.

mike despises shopping. in fact, he despises spending money, which is mostly due to the fact that after his mom died and dad left, he’s never had much of it. and he hates the fact that he has to give so much of it back to a government that hates him. so, to make up for it, he prefers thrift stores. not goodwill, essentially a corporate office that helps no one but it’s filthy rich CEO, but small, local thrift stores. the kind that are always filled with volunteers, whose profits exclusively go to keeping the shop running and a small cause, like dental care for youth in Guatemala or starving kittens who would be put down without proper funds to keep them alive. he likes knowing that his money is going to a good cause, even if he hates handing it over.

mike does, however, love picking out the clothes. he scours through the kids’ section for the brightest pairs of overalls, t-shirts, cardigans, skirts, and sneakers. he loves the look on abby’s face when he finds her a pretty sundress, because the smile that so rarely appears is filled with such innocent bliss. for himself, however, he moves as quickly as possible. he pretty much exclusively wears old hoodies, sweaters, jeans, and work boots. as long as it’s comfortable and in a size medium, it works for him.

that’s all for now but i love thinking about this man so i’ll probably end up writing more eventually 🤷‍♀️ who knows

anyways have a good day <3

[seinahirai]

Hi darling,

I first want to wish you a wonderful day, don’t forget to rest and eat enough okay?

I wanted to pitch you an idea for a dreamcatcher jiu fluff x reader story.

I was thinking the reader starts going to a martial arts class and one of the trainer is jiu. Lots of mischief and fluff as reader is paired with jiu. Any domestical fluff imagine would also work if that inspires you more, reader going to dc’ dorm after a long/bad day for comfort perhaps.

Take care🫶

summary: after being robbed one day, you sign up for a martial arts class where you meet your trainer and future girlfriend, jiu

word count: 2.9k

contents: martial arts trainer!jiu, student!reader, gender neutral reader, fluff, there’s some build up, i got carried away, protective!jiu, sorta domestic (small glimpse into readers life with jiu ft. the girls), mentions of a non-fatal attack on reader, jiu is referred to by her birth name “minji”

authors note: sooo sorry to this sweet and lovely anon and everyone else who sent in requests, it’s been a month since you sent this in. a lot has happened but the school year is almost over and i’m getting my shit together. i will try to write more often but no promises, i’m still getting back on my feet

After you were robbed while walking home one night, you realized how bad you are at defending yourself.

It wasn’t a fatal attack, the criminal just took some of your belongings and left. Nonetheless, the incident left you quite paranoid, keeping cautious of every persons movements and every sound around you.

You even stopped listening to music in public so you could hear anyone who could be attempting to attack you.

After a few weeks of living in fear and anxiety, you decided you weren’t going to let it take over you. Living day to day being so overly cautious about everything was overwhelming and exhausting, you felt drained 24/7.

You decided you would learn to defend yourself, so if it ever did happen again, you would know exactly what to do.

You signed up for a nearby martial arts program recommended by your friend, who had went there for a few years.

Before officially joining, you were given a tour of the company to get a sense of the environment and what you’d be learning.

Your tour guide was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever met, so beautiful that you caught yourself paying more attention to her face than her words.

She was also very sweet, having introduced herself in a very elegant and soft way, quite a contrast to the intense vibe of the rest of the building and members.

“I’m Minji, I’m your tour guide. If you do decide to join, I’ll be one of your trainers.” She had said, a big smile on her face that reminded you a lot of a rabbit.

When she was done showing you around, she brought you to the main room where all the members of the program are taught.

You got to see what the students were learning, how they were doing, and how the trainers teach. It all seemed intense, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. You wanted to finally feel safe again, after all.

But when Minji personally showed you some martial arts skills, you were floored.

You watched i’m amazement as she did incredible moves you didn’t even know the name of. That cute bunny look of hers quickly turned into something darker, more serious.

“Woah,” you mutter stupidity, awkwardly standing there as she shows you her skills.

When she was finished, her face returned to its usual smiley and bright smile.

Safe to say, you were gonna attend this program.

Your first day was very nerve wracking, everyone around you seemed so much more experienced.

However, everyone there was very kind to you, the trainers were very understanding with you and guided you thoroughly without taking too much pity on you.

Kinji specifically was very patient with you, being very sweet but firm as she taught you, sometimes coming close to you to adjust your form and movements.

It made your heart race every time.

You could get used to this, you decided.

The students were very nice too, you had specifically made friends with one of the students named Gahyeon who was around your age.

As kept coming in every week, you and Gahyeon began to talk even more, and soon enough, you became good friends with her.

And with each passing week, you grew closer with Minji as well, but not in the way you did with Gahyeon.

With Minji, you felt like you were falling for her more and more each time you saw her.

At some point, your motive changed from “learn how to protect yourself” to “get the stances correct to earn praise from Minji”.

Of course you were still learning so you could defend yourself if needed, but you also loved being around your trainer, and you couldn’t help but yearn for something more.

You end up confessing this to Gahyeon one night over drinks at your place.

To your surprise, Gahyeon is not phased when you rant on about how much of a crush you have on Minji.

“It was like, incredibly obvious. You look at her like a lost puppy.” She said, chuckling at how head over heels you are.

“Was it really that obvious?” You ask, your cheeks flushing slightly. You couldn’t help but wonder if Minji could tell.

“Painfully so,” Gahyeon says, taking another sip of wine.

“But,” She says, putting her glass down on the table and looking at you with a grin on her face.

“lucky for you, I happen to be good friends with both of her roommates, which makes me good friends with her, which means I could totally set you two up.”

Your eyes light up at that, a hopeful look on your face as you smile at Gahyeon. “Really? You’d do that?”

“Of course! I’m only doing this because I do think she likes you as well. I’ve never seen her teach students the way she teaches you.” Gahyeon says, and it makes your heart race to think that Minji could feel the same way you feel.

“So, how would you set us up?” You ask, already seeming to overthink everything.

“Minji unnie loves to visit the cafe near the building after classes, she says it’s a nice place to unwind after teaching. I could tell her somebody is interested in her and wants to meet her there.”

Gahyeon must’ve noticed the unsure look on your face, because she raises an eyebrow asks you what’s wrong.

“It’s just, isn’t that a bit cheesy? Are you sure she’d like that?” You ask, your nerves getting to your head.

“Nah, she loves cheesy love tropes. I think she’d be more happy to see that it’s you.” Gahyeon says, reaching her hand over the table to pat your shoulder reassuringly.

“Plus, almost every person in the 90s used to meet the love of their lives through set-ups. This could be your soulmate.” She says in a sing-song voice, trying to convince you to take the opportunity.

After a few moments of thinking, you nod softly, which causes Gahyeon to cheer and have her own mini celebration.

“I’m gonna be so happy for you two if this does work out and you start dating.” She says, smiling at you.

“Thank you, Gahyeon. I’m glad I have you as a friend.” You say, feeling your nerves calm for a moment as you return the smile.

“It’s nothing, really. I just love seeing my friends happy.” She says, reaching down to grab her whine glass and raising it in front of the both of you.

“To a happy future relationship with Minji unnie!”

You chuckle and raise your glass as well, happy to see how excited your best friend is about this whole thing.

“Cheers,” you say, clinking your glasses together.

The following weekend, Gahyeon is on the phone helping you get ready to meet Minji at her favorite cafe.

You’re currently freaking out about which outfit goes better with the spring-themed gift basket you prepared.

“This outfit matches the aesthetic of the basket, while this one matches the aesthetic of her.“ You say, your phone pushed up against your ear and your shoulder as you look between the two outfits you picked out prior to today.

“Because y’know, this one matches the spring colors but this one looks more like something she’d enjoy, plus the small rabbits on it since she kind of looks like a rabbit herself,” You ramble your eyes darting between the two outfits.

“You don’t think you should’ve figured this out beforehand?” Gahyeon asks, slight amusement in her tone as she listens to you panic.

“I didn’t think it would’ve been this difficult.” You say, groaning in frustration.

“I think you should go with the second outfit. If it fits her vibe more, she’ll like it.” Gahyeon says, attempting to pull you out of your crisis.

You look over the second outfit once more, nodding at Gahyeon’s words even though she can’t see you.

“…Alright, I’ll go with this one,” You say, bringing the outfit into the bathroom with you as you get ready to change.

After a few minutes of getting dressed and triple checking your appearance, you leave the house, trying not to let your nerves get the best of you.

When you arrive at the cafe, you sit in your car for a few seconds to reassure yourself. You look over into the cafe’s windows, seeing Minji sitting down at one of the tables for two, looking as beautiful as ever.

You take a deep breath, grabbing the gift basket and flowers you picked up for her before you exit your car, closing the door behind you as you walk into the cafe.

Minji’s head raises to look at you as you walk in and make your way to the table she’s at.

Minji looks pleasantly surprised to see you, and she can’t help but notice how nice you look. She’s never seen you outside of martial arts, so this was a nice side of you to see.

“Hi,” She says, her signature bunny smile lighting up her face.

“You’re the person Gahyeon wanted me to meet?” She asks, slightly pushing the menu towards you as you sit down across from her.

“Yes,” You say, clearing your throat in attempt to calm yourself down. You hadn’t met up with anyone in a while, let alone someone you really liked.

“Well, you could’ve asked me yourself, silly. I would’ve said yes.” She giggles, finding you very cute when you’re flustered.

Before you can say anything else, her eyes brighten as she notices the gifts you brought for her.

“Are these for me?” She asks, and you nod as you hand her the flowers and the gift basket.

She brings the flowers near her nose, taking in the fresh smell. “Lilies,”

She looks back up at you, her face now showing a more soft and loving expression. “My favorite. How did you know?”

“Well, I remember you told me your English name is Lily. I figured you must like lilies.” You say, shyly looking down at the menu. The look on her face was enough to melt your heart.

“You pay attention to the small details,” Minji says, chuckling softly as she brings the flowers to her nose once more. “I like that.”

You smile. This is going great so far.

“Is this a gift basket?” She asks, setting down the flowers next to her and grabbing the small basket.

You nod, watching as she looks through the gift. “I made it myself.”

Minji pauses as she notices something in particular.

She reaches further into the basket, pulling out a small rabbit plush. She coos, looking up at you.

“This is so cute! It looks like the design on your outfit!”

She noticed, You thought.

“Thank you,” She says, hugging the plush close to her chest.

“Of course, you deserve it.” You say, and you can’t help but notice how beautiful she is.

“I feel a bit bad now, I didn’t bring anything for you.” She says, pouting softly.

“It’s alright, you didn’t know. I just wanted to make it clear how much you mean to me, past the training.”

Minji smiles at that, bringing her hand down to tap the menu in front of you.

“The least I can do is pay for your order.”

The meet up with your trainer went way better than you thought it would.

You and Minji seemed to have grown even closer since that day, having gone on a few more dates since then.

On one particular night, when you two were cuddled up together watching a movie, Minji suddenly paused the movie and looked deep into your eyes.

You’re about to ask her what’s wrong when you notice her looking into your eyes as if they held the entire solar system within them.

“Minji—”

“I wanna be your girlfriend.”

Your mouth shuts. Your eyes widen as you stare at each other.

“Minji, I…”

“I don’t know why I feel it so strongly in this moment, but I really wanna be your girlfriend.”

You smile softly, cupping her cheeks gently.

“Why so suddenly?” You ask, to which she shrugs, returning the soft smile.

“It just suddenly came to me as we were laying here together, in each other’s arms.” She said, leaning into your touch.

“I realized, I want to do this forever. The way I feel right now…I want to feel it forever.”

You’re left speechless as Minji confesses her love to you. No one’s ever said anything like that to you before. It made you feel so loved, so special.

You also wanted to feel that way forever.

“So…?” Minji says, slightly nervous at your silence.

You realize you’ve been quiet this whole time.

“Yes,” you say, nodding softly as you smile at her. “I feel the same way, Minji.”

Her eyes light up as she grins widely, pulling you in for a gentle, passionate kiss in which you happily return.

Now, you and Minji have been dating for almost a year.

Gahyeon was ecstatic when you told her, going on about how she’s basically cupid, and that you and Minji are basically her adoptive parents now.

You’d roll your eyes at her playful happiness, but hug her tightly nonetheless, thanking her for everything she’s done for you.

Dating Minji is nothing short of a dream. She’s the most caring, kind and beautiful person you’ve ever met.

Many people in the past have told you that the fuzzy feeling you get in a new relationship never lasts long. That you’d get sick of her sometimes just like you would with anyone else.

That was never true with you and Minji.

Eleven months into your relationship, and you still crush on her like the first day you met. That fuzzy feeling never went away, in fact it only got stronger.

When things would get rough, she would cook your favorite meals, get your favorite snacks, and cuddle you under the blankets while she puts on your favorite shows. She’d even sing to you sometimes.

Today was a particularly difficult day. Work had been stressful, you were very exhausted, and all you wanted was to hold your girlfriend and make it all go away.

As you walked into Minji’s apartment, you’re greeted by her two roommates, Siyeon and Bora on the couch, to which you greet them back.

As you walk further into the living room, you see Minji’s other friends, Dong, Yoohyeon, Yubin, and of course, Gahyeon, who greets you by jumping up and pulling you into a tight hug.

You admit that the sight of the lively home full of people you two are close with had helped a bit with your exhaustion, but you have yet to see the one person you’ve missed the most.

You walk into the kitchen, spotting Minji making dinner.

Your feet move before your brain does, and within a few seconds, you find yourself wrapping your arms around Minji from behind, burying your face into her neck.

Minji pauses, a small smile forming on her face as she realizes you’re home.

“Hi, baby,” She says sweetly, halting her task of making dinner as she places her hands on yours where they rest on her waist. “Rough day?”

You nod, taking in her sweet vanilla scent.

“Missed you so much.” You mumble, nuzzling closer to her.

Minji turns around in your hold, now facing you as she cups your cheeks and brings you into a sweet kiss, pulling away after a few seconds.

“Go ahead and shower, baby. I’ll bring dinner to you in bed when it’s ready, then we can cuddle, okay?” She says, her gentle hold on your cheeks never faltering.

You nod, wanting nothing more than to be held by her in bed.

She presses one last kiss to your forehead before you pull away.

A little while later, you’re in Minji’s bed, holding her pillow in your arms as it was the closest thing to her actual body.

Minji knocks on the door, announcing her presence before opening the door and shutting it behind her, holding a tray with a plate of food in her hands.

“Hey, baby,” She sets the tray down on the dresser next to her bed, climbing in next to you as you immediately wrap your arms around her and nuzzling close to her.

She smiles, holding you tightly as she runs her fingers through your hair. “Baby, your dinner.”

“I’ll eat later. Just wanna hold you,” You say, your voice slightly muffled.

Minji chuckles softly, nodding as she rubs your back. “Okay, baby.”

You two stay like that for a while, until you eventually find the energy to eat your dinner. Now, you and Minji are watching a movie together when you hear a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Minji calls out.

The door opens to reveal Yoohyeon, smiling as she sees you two cuddled up.

“We’re about to play Uno. You guys wanna join?”

Minji looks down at you, silently asking if you were ready for any outside interaction.

You nod softly, and you two get out of bed.

“Let’s see if I can get you to draw twenty again,” You tease as you follow Yoohyeon down the halls into the living room.

“I swear that was cheating!” Yoohyeon pouts.

“This better not turn into a screaming match again.” Minji says, playfully rolling her eyes as you three enter the living room.

[accordingtolauren]

Smile (04/22)

I don’t know how I had survived all those years before I met you. 

With that red-hot anger that thickened my fragile skin and cursed my hands into fists, I’d only ever known spite. Resentment for those who saw the world in a more vibrant shade, those who could channel such calm dispositions amongst the silent chaos that only seemingly progressed with every rapid breath. Those who could forgive. Those who could forgive and forget those who had so easily kissed bruises into their skin and took what had never been theirs to take away, let alone feast upon with prying eyes.

My mother had taught me that above all other actions deemed immoral and dirty and delicious, forgetting was the greatest sin. To forget was to be weak, and to be weak was an invitation for your untimely death.  A delicate disposition was a short skirt in the wrong part of town on a dark night. Weakness was asking for it. Pleading for autonomy to be ripped from a body that no longer belonged to anyone but the taker.

And so I kept my fists balled a little bit tighter every year as a reminder that I’d made it a step further in an impossible game. I held them so tight, they’d refuse to unwind every night, even as I closed my eyes and prayed to an unapologetic God. Even as I dissociated into another existence that promised a peace I could never verbalize, a color I’d never seen and languages I’d never heard. These illusions would plague my illustrious dreams and yet soon I’d awake, soaked in worry and aching between the skin of my knuckles.

They said stress could kill you. I worried more in an effort to prioritize the inevitable.

And then I met you.

With indescribable eyes, a calm demeanor, a 401-K and a pair of blue-jeans with a hole in the right back pocket that you’ve forgotten to patch up for the past five-years. You’d dropped out of film school and re-enrolled in an art program with no promised job market because the creation that is emitted from your loose fingertips brings the biggest smile to your chapped lips, one larger than any billboard with your name could ever produce. Your socks would never match, you wait a week until the deadline to file your taxes, you can speak two languages, but you could never remember the quadratic formula.

You were beat up by a group of boys when you were eleven for trying to save a little girl's lunch money from being stolen. You lost. It was cliché. She had cried at the blood on your skin. That was the only fight you had ever been in.  At least with your fists. You’d vowed that words were to be your defense from that day on. More illustrious, powerful, ornamenting. Less lonely, bloody, and sure, you may never win, but you’d never succumb to that guilt that’d arise from experiencing fear in another’s eyes. 

My mother would’ve called you weak.

Shit, I would have too, if it was not for how you’d relinquished my own hands from their treacherous grips of angst and freed my body from its imminent verge into an automated, aggressive response that was hardwired into my code. You deprogrammed an out-of-date, predisposed manufacturer mishap. You recycled what should have been melted and reborn into another something. 

You made me a nothing, which was everything. 

(NOTHING: to love and laugh and live)

I don’t know how I could of ever wanted the world to end if I knew you’d been roaming it for years with a smile on your lips and your hands in your back pockets, a pinky finger peeking out of that tiny rip. I think the wrinkles on my forehead have faded since you’ve held my limp hand. I hope to hold it tighter for every year that passes, only to let it go to wave to our neighbor across the street from our home. 

If only I had known all of it, all of the pain and violence and scars, would have led me here. 

I probably would've smiled more.

-lauren a.p

[fili-urzudel]

If you don't mind #9 and #7 with Thorin and Dwalin.

7. Sleeping in a dog pile

9. Forehead touches

I was quite honestly immediately inspired by this one, it was just bridging the gaps between every flash of inspiration I had lol. It felt nice to write something platonic, and I hope that this was close to what you had in mind, or if it wasn't, it's still something you enjoy. <3

Word count: 1.1 k

Warnings: Might getcha in your feels idk, old man dwarf Balin POV

Pebbles - Platonic Balin, Thorin, and Dwalin

Dwalin could hardly keep still, hands fidgeting with the head of the wooden axe Adad had gifted him some months ago. "Will you let us stay up as late as we want?"

"No," Balin answered sternly, still feeling a bit strange, entrusted with all this authority. "You will go to sleep when Amad and Her Highness said you need to go to sleep. And you'll eat your dinner."

"I thought brothers were supposed to be fun."

"I thought sons of the advisor to the king were supposed to be well behaved," Balin said, before ruffling his brother's dark hair. He hadn't quite gotten the hang of braiding it yet, so he decided to leave it all out, and it stuck out quite impressively from his head. "And you can have fun, just be mindful. It's not your house. And be gentle with Dis, she's just a little'un."

"Aye, aye," he waved him off.

The older dwarf hoisted his school bag over his shoulder again before knocking on the door to the common quarters of the royal family. "Come in!" The princess's voice rang through, and Balin took a deep breath as he pulled the door open. 

"Dwalin!" Thorin jumped up from whatever it was he was doing at the table to all but tackle his little brother, initiating their special handshake that always ended in a headbutt. 

He had taught them it. 

"And what am I? Chopped liver?" As he spoke, Frerin and Dis came running up, sticking to either side of him and forcing him to drop his bag of schoolbooks on the floor. "Ah, at least someone cares," he joked, a hand on each of their backs.

"Thank you for showing up early, we're about ready to leave," the princess told him with a genuine smile. She was always so warm. "I know you'll all have so much fun!"

"Not too much," Prince Thrain reminded them.

"Of course not, sir."

"I know you're a good lad, Balin," Thrain reassured him. "I'm sure we'll return to clean plates, clean rugs, clean clothes, and no damaged art, right?" He asked, pointedly turning to his eldest son and his best friend, who seemed to be tuning him out.

"Yes, da."

"Yes, sir!" They said at the same time.

After a round of goodbye and another set of reminders for Thorin and Dwalin, the pair were off, and Balin could get started on his homework. Right?

"Dis, you've got to finish your vegetables," Balin encouraged her, though he knew the words would have irked him when he was her age. 

"But I don't like green food," she pouted, blue eyes welling with on-demand tears. 

"Thattagirl," Dwalin praised, and Balin shot him a look that had him shrinking in his seat. 

"They're good, I prom—Frerin, that had better not be drawing clay," he warned as he saw the pebble nearing the wall with a suspiciously clenched fist. "I may not be your ma but I won't let you color the walls either."

After redirecting Frerin's creative energy to parchment, Balin cleaned up after dinner. 

It wasn't much easier after.

"Boys, no wrestling on the furniture," he said exasperatedly, still trying in vain to do his schoolwork at the dinner table. He moved his papers and books haphazardly in his arms to the table in the sitting room, hoping to dissuade them from trying again. 

They continued amusing themselves with tasks of varying volume, and Balin was almost done with his essay on the First Age when it went quiet. Too quiet.

"Boys?"

"Quick, pick it up!"

"Why weren't you watching her?"

"She's your sister!"

"She's your sister too!"

"You're older!"

By that point, Balin had made it to the room at the end of the hall—the master bedroom. Someplace none of them should be.

The scene was simple enough to decipher. A vase of some sort lay on the ground, formerly perched on a table that Dis must've walked into and knocked over. Surprisingly, the noise was not enough to make her cry, but enough to make the other pebbles start panicking.

It wasn't a big deal. Honestly, if it was anyone's fault, it was Balin's, something he would readily admit to when the prince and princess returned.

But the pebbles thought they were in big trouble, with enough anxious energy to keep them up all night. 

"Why, you little goats!" He roared, and the pebbles perked up almost instantly. "You'd better run!"

Dis shrieked and toddled away, the others in hot pursuit. Balin chased them around tables and the kitchen island, catching them and earning more screams every time they hid behind a bed or chair.

He let them get ahead of him just enough to confer among themselves, and when he caught up, they attacked. 

"Get him!" Dis cried in her small voice, and Balin couldn't hide his smile.

Frerin and Thorin each took an arm, and Dwalin bowled them back onto the couch. "My own brother, betraying me!" he shouted, closing his eyes in defeat.

The couch was wide, wide enough for the five of them to spread out as they wished. Dwalin lay on his chest, his untamed hair tickling Balin's chin.

Thorin laid his head on his stomach, his baby sister in his arms and his little brother laid out on his legs.

And finally, they could rest, Balin thought as not-so-quiet snores filled the room.

"Balin?" A small voice asked, and it took a moment for him to realize it was Dwalin's. It had been a while since he sounded so... little. 

"Yeah, nadad?"

"I'm sorry for not being better tonight."

"You were just having fun," he assured him. "It's alright."

"Are you sure?"

Balin touched his forehead to his brother's briefly, patting his back. "Yeah. Go to sleep, nadad."

His brother snuggled back up to his side.

He would clean up the vase later. He would tell the prince and princess when they got home and apologize profusely for not watching them more closely.

But right now, it was nice being right where he was.

My, where did time go?

It had been a long time since then, Balin reminisced. A lot had changed. They were charging to recover the mountain he had lived most of his life in. He had a couple hundred more grey hairs, and all the pebbles had full beards now. The ones that were still alive, at least. Dis had pebbles of her own, and they were on the quest. 

He wasn't sure, but he did know one thing. It was an absolute fact, actually, as Thorin and Dwalin lay snoring on each arm.

Some things didn't change much at all.

[tokyogruel]

silly quirky funny shidou artsies aside if i Do end up posting something truly nsfw please know that it will be behind like, 7 layers of links to click through and there will be a disclaimer towards minors.like hey, if youve made it this far, i dont want you to see it, but i know i cant stop you from clicking on the final image, (especially if youre persistent enough to click through my link labyrinth) BUT

and this next part is more of a safety reminder for those under 18 in general, since internet safety i guess just isnt taught half the time in school nowadays

but for the love of god, if you are under 18 years old do not share NSFW around. absolutely do not share NSFW on your blog, or any social media. do not save it to your computer or your phone. and ABSOLUTELY DO NOT EVER SHARE OR DISCUSS NSFW IMAGERY WITH ADULTS. a good adult does not want to see or share nsfw with minors (and yes, this is especially true for those "fandom moms" who send nsfw art in an attempt to ""bring awareness"" to it or whatever bullshit they spout these days)

minors, for your safety (and mine, because a minor possessing nsfw an adult made can get that adult in serious trouble) just. dont share nsfw. theres no way for me to know if youve seen it with your eyeballs but just... leave the page. i get it, i was 15 and rebellious and wanted to see boobs when i was young, but please heed my warning for safety.

[alphaakaza]

fight so dirty

Kimetsu Academy history teacher Rengoku Kyojuro never disappointed. His classes were beloved by all, and his methods were unorthodox - he believed learning solely from books alone was tiresome and promised disinterest, especially from the young folk of today. Lessons were as hands-on and physical as the school would allow - having the rowdy and excitable teenagers reenact scenes of war, protest, and other historical events (as safely as possible), so the children could experience firsthand what it could be to live through such times. 

And in that spring, with the weather so pleasant, Rengoku often took them out on field trips - like the one they were on at the moment.

A flock of over 20 teenagers trailed behind the sunset-haired teacher like baby ducks, followed by a chaperone - teacher Kanroji. They were making their way to Keizo's dojo, a martial arts school that taught an old, near-dying style of jiu-jitsu. 

They were welcomed in by a small, pale young woman who introduced herself as Koyuki, the dojo owner's daughter; she first took them to the lockers, where they all changed into keikogi, including the two teachers. Koyuki led them inside and showed them to the mats on the floor where they could all sit in front of the teacher.

The brunet man sitting in seiza in front of them was far younger than the one Rengoku made all the plans and arrangements with, and he quickly realized he must be the son-in-law master Keizo had mentioned.

"Welcome to Keizo's dojo, we're honored to host you all," the young man spoke, bowing stiffly (Rengoku made notice of Koyuki giggling softly at this). "I'm Hakuji, master Keizo's apprentice and a teacher here. I will be in charge of today's lesson in Master Keizo's stead, since he is bedridden with a minor cold."

At this, Rengoku shouted: "WE SHALL BE IN YOUR CARE!"

His students echoed the sentence, though far less ear-piercingly. 

The history of Soryū, the jiu-jitsu style Keizo taught, went back over 400 years in the past, and though Hakuji had began explaining it a little bit choppily and awkwardly, he quickly gained steam and went over the details he knew with a lot of passion - seemingly, this was a subject he was extremely interested in. 

The oral introduction to the style wasn't supposed to be long - master Keizo understood Rengoku's methods and agreed for the lesson to be more physical - but the young brunet was so enthralled by the subject that he accidentally spent way too much time going over the style theory vocally. Rengoku felt terrible interrupting, though - and to him, it WAS quite interesting -, so the one to stop him was Koyuki.

"Dear... don't forget the lesson plan!" the young woman reminded him in her soft tone, smiling sympathetically.

"Ah...!" Hakuji flushed and flailed a little. "My apologies! I hope I didn't bore you all..."

One of the students was smacked awake by another. Rengoku tried to distract the teacher from the disheartening sight. "Not at all! It was all so interesting! However, it would certainly be nice to move onward with the actual lessons!"

And, just as he finished saying that, the sound of doors opening and closing was heard from outside, as well as some muffled shouts of, "Keizo!? You there!?" Koyuki mumbled, "Oh, that must be him!", quickly walked to the door and left.

Hakuji grumbled and sighed. "That is... Master Keizo's special guest. Master decided it would be a good idea to have him demonstrate Soryū with me," by the slightly annoyed look on his face, it was obvious the brunet was not happy with this. "Hope that is fine with you, professor Rengoku!"

Rengoku wanted to say yes, but he was interrupted when the sliding door was nearly slammed open and-

A near-identical copy of teacher Hakuji clamorously stormed in.

All the students, Kanroji and Rengoku gasped, oh-ed and WAH?!-ed. Some of his rowdier students even screamed - specifically, Agatsuma and Hashibira. The boy with the boar hat jumped to his feet and pointed excitedly at the stranger.

"IT'S FUCKING AKAZA! MMA LEGEND AKAZA!"

Rengoku had no time to restrain him because the same brown haired boy that had smacked his classmate awake now bonked Hashibira on the head and forced him back on the floor. 

The attention was quickly back on the stranger and Hakuji - all eyes  boggling back and forth from the two, astonished by the uncanny similarity. Their faces and builds were identical - both pale and very fit, with powerful arms and legs, yet gentle, beautiful faces, highlighted by very long and light-colored eyelashes - and the only things that differentiated them physically were the stranger's ear piercings and hair, which was dyed a soft pink. 

Teacher Hakuji, already on his feet the second his pink-haired doppelgänger walked in, was standing next to him with an expression mix of annoyed and apologetic. With a sigh, he spoke:

"...this is Akaza, Keizo's special guest. He and I joined this dojo at the same time, and we have a similar level in Soryū, which-"

"You're just gonna skim over what's boggling their minds, huh?" this Akaza interrupted rudely and turned to the class with a toothy grin. "Hi, I'm his identical twin~ I'll be in your care~ sorry my little brother is such a stick in the mud~"

Hakuji gasped. "I'm not a-! You-! I'm only 5 minutes younger! How-" the brunet grumbled and shook his head, exhaling to try and calm himself down. "Anyway- Akaza and I are going to demonstrate Soryū, and once you all understand it, we can do some rounds with the students like we promised, professor Rengoku." 

When Rengoku exclaimed a resounding, "YES!", he noticed Akaza's eyes were trained on him. The pink haired man grinned and made a small gesture of "hello", which the teacher responded to with a small nod. 

Akaza left for a minute to change into keikogi to match his brother, and when he came back a few of the students (and Mitsuri, again) OOOOH-ed lowly - now that Akaza was wearing slightly shorter sleeves, the tattoos on both of his arms were visible. 

They were dark blue, armband type tattoos, and Rengoku could swear he remembered them from somewhere. The man sporting them smirked at the spectators' reactions, showing them off not-so-subtly by crossing his arms over his meaty chest. 

Hakuji tsk-ed and made to kick his twin on the back of his shin, which Akaza quickly avoided, and deflected with his own foot.

Without any introduction or preparations, the men began sparring - though, to Rengoku, it seemed more like a genuine fight. 

Both men's movements were fluid and fast, and whether it was because they knew each other well enough, or the genuine talent in their fighting style, they were always one step ahead of each other - almost always predicting their opponent's attacks to shield themselves from a blow. 

Hakuji, Rengoku noticed, put more emphasis on his leg and foot attacks, often managing to land kicks to Akaza's back and shins, which the pink-haired man often left unguarded. But despite this, Akaza was still landing more debilitating hits - punching Hakuji on his weaker points with his powerful fists, which seemed like they could punch through concrete.

The session ended when Hakuji fell to the mat floor, pinned by the chest by Akaza's arm after a kick to his legs. The brunet all but growled in frustration at having to tap out and admit defeat, yet he had to show an honorable loss to the students. 

Sitting back down in his previous seiza position (albeit a lot more disheveled and out of breath), Hakuji addressed the students and teachers before him. 

"That was our demonstration of Soryū,” he panted out, and brushed some sweaty hair out of his face. “Now, with professor Rengoku's help, please partner up in pairs, and I shall teach you some basic moves."

Rengoku shot up to his feet in excitement. "That was amazing! You two are amazing! Thank you for the demonstration!"

Saying this, he urged all his students to pick a friend to spar against, unaware of a certain pair of hazel - near golden - eyes following his moves intently, curiously.

The boar hat boy - Hashibira - was disgruntled. "I don't wanna partner up with these weaklings!" He almost roared. Then, he pointed at Akaza yet again, this time challengingly. "Fight me, Akaza! I only fight against the strongest!"

Mitsuri flailed, trying to apologize to the man while also reeling the student in. "Ino-! My sincerest apologies, Mr. Akaza- You can't just challenge professional fighters like that, Inosuke-!"

Akaza was very visibly having fun, rocking back and forth on his heels slightly and grinning. "I love your spirit, kid!" He praised. "Unfortunately, you're a little bit too small to be challenging me~ I only pick on people my size!" 

After hearing this, Hashibira went red in the face - whether out of humiliation or ire, nobody was sure - and his challenging stance turned into more of a little tantrum. Rengoku trotted up to him and Mitsuri to try and reason with him. 

"Don't falter, Young Hashibira! Mr. Akaza did say you're almost there in terms of muscle mass and height! You can challenge him again in a couple years!"

As the boar boy slowly - reluctantly - calmed down, the pink haired man hummed in thought, resting his chin on his fist - eyes still watching the history teacher, almost as if scanning him.

"Would the teacher perhaps- Rengoku, was it?- want to go up against me, instead?" Akaza said with a wolfish grin, causing a silence to fall over the dojo. He locked eyes with the man and chuckled. "I would go easy on you, of course."

Rengoku felt a shiver of unknown origin go down his spine. 

Hashibira immediately started urging the blond man on, saying, "defend my honor!" and "you're weaker than me, of course, but you've got the build!" A lot of the students were pumped about it, too - seeing their favorite teacher in a "fight" would probably be a topic of conversation for weeks. It would be legendary.

One student though, Tsuyuri, seemed worried, and, though her voice was very quiet, her best friend Kamado wasn't, and his echoing of her concerns reached everyone's ears.

"Professor Rengoku might get hurt? Wait, don't you know, Kanao...?"

Rengoku interrupted everyone when he laughed and proclaimed, "I accept your challenge, Mr. Akaza!" 

He looked over at Tsuyuri and smiled; he was extremely lucky to have such sweet and concerned students who worried for his safety. He gave her a small thumbs up to reassure her and turned back around to face Akaza, as passionate as ever.

"And, you don't have to go easy on me! I come from a long line of kendo instructors, and I have taken quite a few judo lessons since I was a child - I'm a second dan black belt!" 

This received a chorus of OOOH-s and WAAAH-s from his students. More importantly, though, it got a smirk out of Akaza - one that promised nothing but trouble. 

(Despite himself, Rengoku couldn't deny that made him a trouble-seeker). 

After grumbling at his brother, berating him for being rude towards guests, Hakuji went to direct the pairs of students towards the center of the room to begin teaching them - and Rengoku approached his challenger.

"I'm Rengoku Kyojuro, it's a pleasure meeting you!" Rengoku exclaimed, bowing quickly. "I'm more of a sumo kind of guy, but I've seen you on TV and in the news once or twice, so meeting you is an honor, Mr. Akaza!"

The pink haired man hummed, also bowing... and scanning the man, yet again. As a fighter, seeing men of Rengoku's physique instinctually made him size them up - and as an opponent, he was definitely worth his attention.

"Kyojuro," he tried the name out on his tongue - it felt a lot more natural than Rengoku. He smiled. "Not much of an MMA guy, huh."

Rengoku was shocked at hearing his first name from a stranger. He probably showed it on his face, judging by the warmth that rushed to his cheeks, but he made no comment about it. Strangely, it didn't feel wrong. 

"Now that I know you were trained in Soryū, I will definitely be following your exploits more closely, Mr. Akaza!" 

"You can drop the honorifics," the shorter man chimed in, or rather, interrupted. He didn't care for formality - much less with somebody he was interested in- power-wise, that is, of course, he tried to reassure himself. 

"...Akaza," the teacher corrected himself sheepishly, flustered slightly at the casualness. "Shall we begin our sparring, Akaza?"

The pink haired man grinned from ear to ear, excited, and got into a lower stance, fists forward in a defense position. He urged the teacher to do the same, to make the first move with a taunting cock of the head, eager to figure out what kind of fighter this man was - and if his instincts were right.

Rengoku didn't go for an attack right away, instead the two men slowly stepped in a circle, calculating; Akaza, the blond’s first move, and the teacher how to get through that air tight defense he witnessed in the brothers’ sparring. The pink haired man’s stance was low and guarded; like a fortress, and Rengoku was looking for an in to break it down.

When the first move finally came, the fight was on and fast like two animals in the wild - instinct, raw strength and experience meshing into one. The teacher first feinted and immediately went for Akaza’s leg, knocking him off balance and gripping him by his robe, attempting a throw to the ground. The professional fighter quickly defended himself, getting the hands off in a swift movement and kicking Rengoku away, directly in the chest. 

As the blond caught his breath, Akaza lunged with an assault of punches which Rengoku blocked with his arms, wincing and grunting at every hit. 

When Akaza stopped for just a second to redirect the blows to his sides, the teacher immediately seized his opportunity to trap the other man in a headlock; despite his precarious place underneath a heavier man, he nonetheless managed to quickly turn around until he was straddling his back, and still choking him out. 

He thought to himself that he had been right to assume the pro seemed to leave his neck and back unguarded most of the time, and a rush of excitement washed over him. Not every day did he get to overpower an MMA champion.

Almost subconsciously, he realized the students had stopped what they were doing to look, in awe at their seemingly goofy teacher managing to put down someone like Akaza. If he looked back, he would've also noticed Hakuji, slack jawed at the sight.

But he was taken out of those thoughts as he flew head first to the matted floor, knocking his face against it roughly and screaming in pain. Akaza had made a quick movement upwards with his entire lower body that he had too distracted to predict. Dazed from the pain and surprise, he couldn't even defend when the other man grabbed his arm and held it against his back. With his other powerful, calloused palm, he was now retaliating and choking him instead. 

His initial adrenaline filled pride washed away by an intense feeling of humiliation. 

After a couple futile attempts at breaking out of the lock, he growled low in the back of his throat, and slapped the mat with his free hand. 

“I give!”

His arm was let go, but the hand around his neck only released the hold after a couple seconds, and he could’ve sworn he heard the pink-haired man chuckle, or maybe even coo, when he finally did. 

(That definitely also fed into his humiliation, but, for some reason, for a second, he felt butterflies in the pit of his stomach at it.)

The rest of the class transpired quickly and without any bumps in the road; though he did receive a lot of flack from the Hashibira boy about losing. His other students, though, clamored and congratulated him in putting up such a good fight. Even Hakuji gave him a subtle thumbs up when nobody was watching. 

Through it all, he fervently avoided looking Akaza in the eye. He had bowed to him after getting up from the fight, and admitted to his strength. Rengoku was a mature adult, but something about this man, and this fight, had left his entire head and body in disarray. 

But, on a subconscious level, he felt as though meeting that golden gaze would make him spontaneously combust. 

But even so, when the scheduled time of the classes ran its course, the teachers and students bid Hakuji and Akaza goodbye, and followed Koyuki back to the dressers to change back. 

Just as they were opening the doors to leave, they heard loud footsteps making their hurried way towards the entrance/exit area, and a huffing Akaza smacked the door open. 

“Just one second! I’ve got… something for the boar hat boy,” the MMA fighter grinned awkwardly at the teacher, then looked back at the kids and Mitsuri behind him. “Y’all can go ahead, I’ll just take a minute.” 

Rengoku raised an eyebrow but nonetheless turned to him, looking over at Mitsuri and nodding. When they were gone, he finally looked directly into those golden eyes. 

He swallowed down the various feelings that had been smothering him for the past hour. “An autograph, I assume? You could’ve given it to him earlier…!” 

“Huh? Oh,” Akaza fumbled in his sweatpant pockets for a piece of paper. “Yeah, of course. Give me a minute.” 

The professional fighter thoughtlessly handed him the little piece of paper with his signature while still looking for a pen, grabbing a backpack from the floor. He found a small photograph of himself holding a champion’s belt and began scribbling. 

“This one’s for you, though, Kyojuro,” he said, grinning, and gave it to him. 

Rengoku dumbly looked down at the two things in his hands. The piece of paper looked like an old receipt. The photo, though, seemed high quality. Recent. When he turned it around, there was a phone number, and a winky face.

“You’re a damn good fighter, Kyojuro. You should think about becoming a pro… Though, if I can’t fight you in the ring,” he purred, leaning down so he could meet the teacher’s downward gaze, and smirked toothily, “I’d gladly do it somewhere else.” 

With that, the pink haired man twirled around and left, hands in his pockets.

Rengoku wasn't combusting, but he definitely was somewhere close to it. 

He shakily pocketed the picture and made his way outside, ignoring Mitsuri’s questioning gaze when she noticed his burning red cheeks. 

ao3 link | divider credit @benkeibear

[pixlokita]

Aight so Because there’s so many asks I’ll just asnswer them by the bunch under the cut so it doesn’t spam everyone ^^ here’s the first ones idk how often I’ll answer these but it won’t include the ones I’m planning to draw :>

@castaccio thank you TTwTT tbh trying to make him as dad shaped as possible 💖

@justmchell he just arrives late because he didn’t think it was a big deal and then realizes the car and everyone is missing 😭

Gregory: rip it’s eyes out, burn it with fire make it RUE THE DAY IT CROSSED OUR PATH!

Reminds me of this one character named Mr. E and EHJDBDKDNDN love the pun names tbh

Ah TTwTT sorry I was trying to make CC golden/ yellow and Gregory orange but I did keep it similar on purpose :Tc gotta make it so it’s saturated enough to be different

@reallyoriginalname1 But he’s like great at hacking 😭 he’s definitely smart ;w; and he knew how to read in the game, maybe his handwriting is illegible tho ? that would be so funny honestly. Him being self taught? His art is already so good tho he’s a talented bean and we love him

Help wanted and pizzeria simulator :0 because of Helpy :v all of them are good tho 💖

Did I already answer this? :0 dejavú ! That’s kinda sad but I can see it happening TTwTT William just went for this beloved plush CC trusted and loved and used it like that 😔

He would bite your finger 😭 Rifp

Probably homeschooled for a couple of years until he’s comfortable and ready to go back to school :c he needs time to adjust and recover 🥺

[hunny-mustard104]

Here are some Bones fiber art headcanons because my hands hurt too much to knit right now.

This is purely self indulgent

Cam - Embroidery. This was something that she started learning in college. I just cannot get the image of Cam and Arastoo sitting next to each other on their couch while she is embroidering and he is reading. Just them being next to each other. Not talking, just enjoying each other presence. I am soft for domestic camstoo.

Zack - Sewing. I don't think he would do it for fun or make anything from scratch, but he does know how to fix clothes. I am a firm believer that Zack was both the baby of the family and a momma's boy. I also think that his family didn't have enough money to spend on new clothes most of the times so Zack got a lot of hand me downs and some would have holes. He would sit with his mom and watch her as she would fix clothes for him with fascination. He soon started to pick up how to do it himself as he got older. It is something that is both soothing and productive. He doesn't know what he is going to do now that his hands do not work the way they used to.

Lance - Knitting. His mom taught him how to knit when he was a kid, and he didn't really knit that often until he got into high school. It was a calming activity and also allowed him to spend time quiet time with his mom. He stopped knitting after his parents died because it reminded him of his mother too much and he didn't pick it up until Daisy got pregnant. He wanted to make his son a blanket. He never got to finish it.