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andkisses · 1 year ago

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♡ a good way | beomgyu ♡

despite the director casting you and beomgyu, your best friend, as the romantic leads, you both promise it won’t change anything between you

♡ beomgyu x gn!reader | wc. 9.1k ♡ genres/tropes: college!au, friends-to-loves, theater!au, hurt/comfort ♡ mentions of/warnings: injuries, lmk if there's anything else ♡ a/n: this is a rewrite of a fic i wrote and posted YEARS ago; unfortunately it was eaten up when i accidentally deleted my blog :’) it was originally for joshua from svt; i changed some of the times in the fic from the original, so if it’s a little wonky that’s why :’) pls enjoy ! <3 at the time it was my longest fic, now only second to roman holiday ^^ a/n 2: apologies for my absences ! i had some health issues even tho it was supposed to be my break :') im doing well now ^^

♡ masterlist ♡

It was strange. Weird. Practically unfathomable and there must be some kind of mistake. The play had those two characters as romantic leads. The ones who slowly turn to look at each other, catch the starry glint in the other’s eye before slowly leaning in, before slowly closing their eyes, before slowly feeling their heartbeat accelerate because oh heavens this is it—before slowly kissing each other for the first time with such tender passion some members of the audience start to cry.

Those roles were not ever meant for the ones who have been friends since seventh grade, where one of them accidentally tripped and tossed their lunch all over the other, rendering the former an apologetic mess and the latter slightly smelling of garlic for the rest of the day. Not for the ones who stayed up far too late binge watching whole seasons of anime because they finally turned in that big project and it’s in fate’s hands now. Definitely not friends who are each other’s best friends, always. Never them.

But when the director swings back to the two of you, the mischievous and excited glint in his eye is unmistakable. His giddiness even bubbles over and he repeats himself, happily gazing between you and the best friend of 8 years standing beside you. “Beomgyu, Y/N, you will be the best two leads this stage has ever seen.”

You don’t want to talk about it. You avoid it for as long as possible. Have every conversation about everything else possible except the one topic that actually needs discussion. The trees outside are slowly losing their crunchy leaves, littering the ground with crimson and gold and sprigs of chocolate in between. They rustle and fuss when walked over, and shuffle down the street in a hoard of warning, proclaiming threats of the bitter winds of winter that would soon approach and engulf everyone whole.

Some mornings, you can see remnants of late-night frost on window panes, icy designs laced over the glass in the early morning hours. The grass glistens and shimmers with frozen dew, and the sidewalk is slippery enough to encourage walking slowly or bypassing concrete altogether and walking through the dead leaves. Some nights, you can see your breath curl as you wait outside the diner, a translucent white beast disappearing into the night. As night draws darker earlier, the air grows colder, like a mysterious ghost. One moment, you’re warm—the next, a bitter chill sprints around you, immersing everything in a coldness that drills past your layers and settles into your bones.

But you’d wait a thousand years in the cold just to walk him home. You’d wait forever if it meant seeing him one last time before the day ended and blurred into the next through a series of dreams and quiet darkness.

Beomgyu is one of the last few people out of the diner; he never closes, but he stays as long as he can, helping out and cleaning before his boss gets angry and tells him to “go home! Don’t you have homework?” When he steps out onto the street, making sure to close the door behind him, he’s safely bundled up in a black pea coat and a plaid woolen scarf that, when wound up, nearly encompasses his neck, chin, and even the bottom tips of his ears. When he sees you waiting for him again, he smiles, eyes lighting up like firecrackers and his grin is so warm it starts to defrost your bones, slowly but surely.

“You know you don’t have to wait for me?” he says, falling in step with you as the two of you began the chilled trek back to your apartment.

“Yeah,” you shrug, “but then who will make sure you don’t get lost on your way back? Or, I don’t know, get eaten by a star-monster?”

“A star-monster?” He quirks his head towards you, raising his eyebrow in mild but amused confusion.

You nod your head. “What if the stars gang up on you and snatch you right off the face of the earth and you disappear into the sky? And no one knows or can save you because I wasn’t there? Hm?”

A bitter chuckle escapes his lips. The white curl of his breath fills the air in front of him before it fades, taking the bright look in his eyes with it. “Then I guess I wouldn’t have to be a part of the musical, would I?”

Silence washes over you like a breaking wave—it hurts and stings, knocking everything away and tossing the tiny ships around into chaos. The only sound now is the brush of the wind skirting the leaves down the street with you and the distant city noise. The heels of your shoes hit the pavement in time together, and your breaths slowly start to match up. But something’s off; you feel it in your heart and your bones begin to ache again as the cold ice returns once more, spreading their chilled fingers across them.

Somehow, you find your voice, but it’s quiet and small. “It couldn’t be that bad, could it?”

Beomgyu shrugs, looking anywhere but you. He throws his head back and stares up at the night sky, where the stars kindly twinkle back at him, almost as a promise of we’d never steal you away. You look up, too, but all you see is a menacing darkness that you’re not sure you can get rid of. It feels like it’s bearing down on you, pressing down on your head, your shoulders, and your heart. With it comes a dark doubt, one that oozes into the cracks of your armor and makes you start to question things. It beckons out the dangerous thoughts—the what ifs—and coaxes them into the light and forces you to acknowledge them. What if... this changes things. What if... it ruins things. What if...

“Y/N?”

Your gaze drops back down. Beomgyu stands a few yards ahead of you, in the light of one of the yellow streetlamps. You must have stopped while lost in thought, slowing down until you ended up stuck in between two lamps, in the shadowy part. “Hm?”

He shakes his head. “You just stopped walking.” He turns toward you completely and quickens his pace until he’s beside you again. The look on his face screams of concern, of wondering if his best friend is fine or if it’s something he can’t fix. He reaches out to take your hand in his. “Is everything okay?”

Your heart swells, but it still feels as if it will break, shatter, crumble at any time or place. It feels like porcelain, that if it isn’t handled with care and marked FRAGILE, it will ruin to the point that nothing can fix it. You know what question you have to ask; it’s weighing down on your tongue and you’ll have to force it out.

You gulp, and you can feel your hand shaking in his. Beomgyu’s eyebrows knit together, his starry eyes trying to search for what’s wrong. For what is in need of helping. You stare back at him, garnering the courage to ask the question that’s been plaguing you since roles had been assigned. “The show–it won’t change anything between us, will it?”

And then, he does something unthinkable.

He laughs.

Beomgyu lets go of your hand and bends over in half, practically cackling at the idea, whisker dimples on full display. When he stands back up again, he’s still laughing hard enough he crinkles into your frame, resting a hand on your shoulder and burying his head into your neck, an arm resting across his stomach. His body shakes with laughter, and it’s infectious. A grin slowly spreads across your face, and then a giggle works its way out until the two of you are both laughing like fools. You may be between two lampposts in the shadows, but there’s light where you are.

When the laughter finally subsides to gentle smiles, Beomgyu takes your hand again and tugs you close. He starts walking again, pulling you along, swinging your arms between the two of you. He knocks into your shoulder jokingly, and the both of you smile harder. “Of course not,” Beomgyu says. His smile is pure, assuring. The hand in yours is warm, stable. “Nothing will ever change us.”

Seventh Grade.

The auditorium was full of anxious students, the buzz of noise telling the story of those who were waiting for their turn to shine on stage. The lights were turned on as bright as they would be for a performance, and the stage was decorated with real props from last semester’s performance, a steampunk rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. No one thought the director could pull it off, but when the curtains closed for the last time that first showing, everyone was left starstruck and a new round of students was inspired to try out for the next performance.

A loud clap from the director thundered through the auditorium, signaling for attention and shocking you into your seat a little further. The red fabric bristled against whatever skin your sweater didn’t cover. Outside, the harsh winter weather pummeled the barren landscape, the dead, empty tree branches getting whipped by the bitter, unforgiving wind. The light dusting of snow made everything brighter, almost to the point it hurt to look out the windows at the white world. Inside, however, was full of warm tones and warm breaths. The heat of the auditorium practically had you sweltering, making you wish you had worn layers instead of a bright green sweater. The threads around the collar began to itch at your neck, and you tugged at the hem in search of relief. You really wanted to be here. You really wanted to audition. But the number of people and how long you’ve waited has started to play mind games with you. What if they don’t get to you today? What if they skip over you entirely for someone else? Someone with more theater experience from prior years than you, a complete newbie? What if—

“Hey, uh, is this seat taken?”

You looked up, still fiddling with your itchy collar. It was the boy from the day before—Beomgyu. The one who had accidentally tripped over someone else’s backpack and thrown his lunch all over you. He looked like a complete wreck, one hand holding onto the wrist of the other arm, his dark brown hair falling into his eyes as he struggled to even look in your direction. You shelf your own nerves and offer up a kind smile and pat the seat, which he hastily filled.

It’s quiet between the two of you for a while afterward. On stage, more students rotated through songs and performances, some spectacular and others a little lackluster. It was beginning to become monotonous, and your mind started to wonder if you had gotten here earlier, would you have already auditioned by now? But then something happened. A student walked on stage, introduced themselves politely, and then began to blow everyone and every other performance out of the water. The way they moved, spoke, sang—everything they did was captivating and you felt yourself leaning forward in your seat, drawing ever nearer to the practically perfect audition. There was no music playing in the background, but their vocals and stage presence was more than enough. The entire auditorium erupted in applause when the student on stage finished.

“Wow,” you breathed out. You’d practically fallen out of the chair—feet standing on tiptoes, elbows on knees, chin rested in your cupped hands with a shimmer in your eyes. That. You wanted to be like that. Bewitching, enchanting, and utterly spellbinding.

“I know right?” the boy whispered beside you. The two of you turned to look at each other, and somehow, in the back of your mind, you registered he was sitting the same way you were, looking completely and utterly enraptured with the previous performance. He stared into your eyes—the first time, you noted—and you could see the stars, like a secret milky way full of wonder. There was a serious note in them. “Let’s both do our best so when we grow up, we can be that good.”

“No.” You shook your head, and Beomgyu’s face collapsed into confusion. You shook your head again, this time with a mischievous grin spreading across your lips. “No, when we grow up, we’ll be way better.”

A murmur ripples around campus. Sophomore year of college, and all of high school behind you. You’d think you would be used to it by now, the way quiet words spread around so sneakily but somehow always managed to make their way to your ears, too. But when the girls in the bathroom see you and slyly turn away, whispering how you and Beomgyu have the romantic leads, how of course they do, you can’t help but feel the knot in your stomach form and twist your insides until you feel pressure on your heart as well. Until it feels like you’re about to burst and spill everywhere. You want to spin at them, throw your hands out, and tell them how it’s not like that! That there’s nothing between the two of you except for friendship, the purest of kinds! Stop thinking that way!

But the wiser part of you, the one that’s been through high school, knows that they would just nod their head and try to hide their smirk. You can’t change their minds; they’ll always be thinking and imagining what they want.

Outside, the halls teem with people trying to get to their next class or break. You debate on stopping by your locker near the theater—you won’t need your books again until you go home thanks to rehearsal, but it would be out of your way to get there, on the opposite side of the arts block. But your books are heavy. Really heavy. Like shoulder-breaking, premature back pain-inducing heavy. You find that your feet have started to take you through the crowds to your locker before your mind decides on the plan itself.

In middle school, your and Beomgyu’s lockers were practically as far as they could be from one another. Yours by the gymnasium and near the arts building and the theater. With your mismatched class schedules, you only got to see each other at lunch and for theater. As your friendship grew, he would let you borrow locker space. It got to the point where you basically co-owned each other’s lockers; everything for classes on his side of the building was in his locker and everything for classes on your side was in yours.

By the time high school rolled around two grades later, the two of you were inseparable. As were your lockers. His at one end of the hall, yours at the other end on the opposite side. This only caused trouble junior year, when the two of you had such a bad falling out you could hardly bare to walk past one another’s locker let alone the other person. You would end up taking roundabout ways to your own locker, which worked until you ended up running into him one day without warning.

But you don’t have that problem now. As you walk past Beomgyu, who’s standing by his locker talking to another theater kid, you lightly slug his shoulder. You turn to walk backward and catch his reaction, and he’s staring back at you with fake confusion and his arms thrown up in the air. “You’ll pay for that!” he calls after you.

“Yeah, yeah, sure I will!”

You reach your locker, a happy smile on your face, glad your best friend is the kind of person you can beat up on. You spin the lock with precision, ready to open the door, slam your books inside on the shelf, and hurry to the theater for rehearsals. You can’t wait to see what strange exercises the director would have up his sleeve today; last time, he had everyone stand on the steps in the audience and each time they recited a line correctly, they got to move up two steps. First to the top wins; you and Beomgyu tied for first.

When you pull out the lock and swing the door open, what you see ruins your mood instantly. The crisp, white, inch-thick script stares back at you with quiet remorse. Remember me? it seems to say. Don’t forget about me. You’re almost afraid to touch it, knowing exactly what it holds in its pages even without having read a single line. If your fingers were to graze it, it’s as if an electric shock would shoot out and stop your heart from ever beating again. A tiny part of you wonders if, if your heart really did stop beating, would Beomgyu come to your side and rescue you?

Or would it be like the other night, with a sharp, bitter laugh and a mild happiness over a forgotten kiss.

You’re jostled out of your stupor by a neat punch to your arm, and you fall back into your locker with a metallic clang. When your vision focuses back on the real world, you see Beomgyu walking away from you towards the theater with a confident smirk on his face. He throws out his hands, his smile growing even wider. “I told you, you’d pay for that!”

You’re smiling too, now, and you hurry and grab the script and race after him.

It will all be okay. The two of you had already talked about it, how nothing could change between you two. Regardless of what the girls in the bathroom would dare to say in front of you. Regardless of what anyone else on campus or your major are thinking. Regardless of the script that burns slightly in your grasp, the crisp paper threatening to cut tiny slices into your delicate skin. You and Beomgyu—inseparable best friends for the rest of time.

It would always be that way. No play, no roles, no romantic leads, would get in the way of that. You’d promised each other you’d be each other’s best friend, always.

Freshman year.

Sunlight streaming through the loosely drawn curtains was what woke you, lit patterns playing across your face. Your back ached from sleeping on a couch at a crooked angle for who knows how long. You stretched and tried to pull at your sore joints, attempting to return them to pre-crooked status. The room was still dark; the lamps were all off and the only other source of light was the television, where Netflix was playing some random anime you don’t remember ever selecting or talking about. Vague memories float up to the surface slowly as you finished waking up: you and Beomgyu had turned in a big semester final project that neither of you had thought would be finished on time but somehow managed to pull off. Deciding to get take out and stay up as long as possible watching as many seasons of anime as you could fit in and—

“Boo!”

Your scream echoed through the small dorm and you pulled at the blanket on top of you, trying to hide behind the soft, comforting quilt. On the other side of the couch was Beomgyu, laughing so hard he nearly rolled off onto the shag carpet rug. You half thought about being kind, and warning him to be careful because if he fell he could hit his head on the coffee table, but the other half said he scared you and deserved whatever happened next.

“How could you be so mean!” you whined, reaching behind you to grab a pillow to throw at your best friend’s face. “How long had you been planning something like that?”

Beomgyu paused his laughter to think. “Probably since I woke up about ten minutes ago. It would have been more elaborate, but then you woke up and I ran out of time.”

“You’ll pay for that, you know,” you muttered, drawing the blankets closer against your chest, where inside your heart still beating faster than usual.

“Even after helping you with that project and pay for dinner? On a college budget?” He paused for another moment, resting his chin between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. “Wait, pay for dinner... seems like I’ve already paid for it, Y/N.”

“Beomgyu!” You lunged forward, diving towards his end of the couch. Instead of a successful attack, you landed squarely in his arms, where he proceeded to tug you tightly against his chest. Escape, you soon realized, was futile. You’d have to talk your way out of this one. “Beomgyu, let me go. Now!"

“You know, you sure are whiney when you wake up,” he commented, rustling the hair atop your head. Your heart was still beating quickly and you were convinced the flush of your cheeks was due to large bouts of boiling hot rage streaming through your veins. “And why should I?”

“I would be in a nicer mood if you hadn’t scared me!” You tried to wriggle your arms up and pry your way out, but his grip was solid still, strong and warm. Since when was he ever this strong? His cheeks, you noticed, were warm and rosy as well, but that was from laughing too hard, you were sure. Why else would they be flushed?

“You may have a point…”

“Of course, I have a point! Now let me go!”

Mischief swam around with the stars in your best friend’s eyes. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, planning something you could only hope wasn’t entirely embarrassing. One eyelid dropped shut, and the smirk on his lips was unmistakable. “I will, but only if you pay for breakfast. From somewhere nice,” he rushes to add. “Student union doesn’t count.”

You released a terse sigh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Fine! Deal! Now, release me!”

His arms slid away and you rolled over onto the floor, gently landing between the couch and the coffee table. The carpet was rough against your bare arms, but you were glad to be freed from Beomgyu’s death grip.

He was situated on the edge of the couch, chin resting lazily on his forearm, his eyes filled with mild shock and awe. “Really?” he gasped, as if he couldn’t actually believe you’d agreed. “Even if it’s the overpriced brunch food from the boutique down the street?”

You sighed, staring back at him. “Yes. Even the brunch food from the boutique down the street.”

A moment of stillness, then...

“I’m glad we’re best friends," he said plainly, no hesitation in his voice. His dark eyes had warmed to a welcoming honest color, the kind some people could describe as home. The air around the two of you was still, a precious silence that quietly begged to be broken softly. Outside, the morning birds began to sing their late winter tune, beckoning spring to arrive as soon as possible. The sun filtered through the tiny windows brightly now, filling the dorm with warm yellow like that made everything feel nostalgic. Like the perfect ’80s movie.

When you found your voice, your words were soft but not timid. They held the same amount of honesty and weight as his had. “Me, too. We’re best friends, always.”

A soft smile played at Beomgyu’s lips as he echoed your promise. “Always.”

The walk back to your apartment is chilly. Even though the sun shone brightly ahead, the first freeze of the season the night prior plunged your town from late autumn into early winter. What few leaves remain on the trees might as well be frozen on, and the rest of the dead ones scattered around on the pavement, crunchy husks of their former selves. It’s daylight, but you can easily imagine if darkness were shrouded around you, your breaths would be rising out in front of you in vague translucent puffs. Cold describes everything in sight.

Beomgyu is close by your side, nestled in that ridiculously oversized scarf of his. Christmas is a while away, but you’re already planning on getting him a nice, Beomgyu-sized scarf, probably a deep brown to match his eyes.

“What’cha thinking about?” His voice, clear as crystal, cuts through the air like a sharpened knife, but it doesn’t startle you. It’s warm and inviting against the bitter winter weather, a gentle fire among the cold.

“What I’m gonna get you for Christmas,” you reply, burying your hands into your coat pockets. The pavement scuffs beneath your boots, the walk back home growing boring. As you crossed the street where you two used to part ways freshman year, him to the left and you to the right, you remember when he said his parents told him they were moving during high school. How distraught the two of you became, only to find out he was moving in across the street from your house. Now, you split the rent for a two bedroom apartment. “How about you?”

“To be completely honest, I’m wishing I had remembered my gloves this morning, because right now, my hands are extremely cold.”

You laugh, a bright chuckle, and pull your own hands out of your pockets, staring down at the grey gloves cloaking your fingertips. You hold out your hand towards him. “Want to take one?”

Beomgyu scoffs. “And let you suffer from an equally terrible fate as myself? I think not. At least one of us needs to live.”

You laugh again, throwing your hands back into your pocket. “Fine, be that way.” You cut in front of him, dashing over to the short decorative stone wall running as a divider between the grassy park and the sidewalk. In a quick hop, you’re walking along the top as it gradually slopes higher to the point your feet are even with Beomgyu’s waist.

He stares up at you as you hold your arms at length on either side of you, a small frown playing on his lips. “Be careful,” he warns, the tone of his voice surprisingly stern, something he rarely treats you with. When you look down, you see his brows creased as he follows your pace.

“Yeah, okay, dad,” you laugh, finding the bitter look on Beomgyu’s face amusing. The stone wall beneath your feet is sturdy, and your balance is just as solid. Years of strange theater exercises had brought you that. You can even see your apartment down the street; you’d walk all the way atop this wall, taller now still, and show him. You’ll get to the end and hop off dramatically and tease him for worrying. He keeps pace with you perfectly, still by your side even if there’s distance. The look in Beomgyu’s eyes tells you he wants to reprimand you, take you by the waist and set you safely on the sidewalk before scolding you on every reason why you shouldn’t have done that. But you don’t need him to. You’re perfectly safe with no reason to worry and—

You’ve misstepped.

Your foot is too far from the center, closer to the edge of the stonewall than you had anticipated. There’s not enough foot on the edge to save it. Your impressive balance is misplaced even further as your arms circle widely at your sides, trying in vain to regain some semblance of stability. You can feel yourself pitch sideways, your feet finally coming out from beneath you, and now you’re looking up at the crystal blue sky.

There’s not a cloud in sight, odd for this early winter day, and for the shortest of moments, it’s like you're falling through the atmosphere. The cold wind biting at your cheeks is caused by your descent. The screams you hear are just the air rushing past your ears, calling your name, not anyone else. The clunk of bodies hitting the pavement is just an illusion.

Your vision snapping to black is just a mistake, a cruel trick of fate, like the dark doubts that swarm around your head when you’re all alone. The blackness is almost welcoming, and you succumb quietly.

Twelfth Grade

Four weeks. Just under a month. Your life had gone from bold with color and emotion to two steps from dead and lifeless. Subjects you’d once enjoyed, now dull and monotonous. Walks to school were boring. Lunch and free period were non-committal. You’d skipped theater more than your fingers could count; you’d gotten an email from the director asking if everything was okay.

But it wasn’t. Nothing was.

Because it had been four weeks, just under a month, since you’d talked to your best friend.

What you’d even been fighting over, you couldn’t remember. That entire night is a fogged mess in your memory banks, existing but inaccessible. You know it’s there, but your brain, or maybe your heart, refuses to replay the details for you. The only information it relays is that there was a fight, and somehow some kind of words were said that ended in hot tears and storming out of houses with no goodbyes, take cares, or any sign of always.

Life since then had been weird, like you had shifted from one plane of existence but the world didn’t shift with you. Like a blurry camera shot, where one part of the image is in focus with fuzzy edges but everything else is shaken and smeared like thick wet paint.

All the love and joy theater had brought you since seventh grade was gone, five years nearly shattered to pieces inside your nearly-broken heart. You had no idea when the light would return, or if you would ever act again. It was so closely entwined to him, it physically hurt to walk near the theater or even think of certain plays.

Just like it hurt in the classes you shared. Sitting across the room from each other as far as possible, as opposed to right next to each other and sharing looks and soft smiles. The other students and even the teachers were left in a mild tailspin of confusion. There was never a scene made, nor any words spoken. Glances weren’t exchanged anymore. You never looked in his direction; your heart would ache far too much to handle.

Different pathways were even chosen to get between classes. You didn’t want a chance encounter in the halls, you couldn’t handle it. You guessed he couldn’t either, because you never saw him. There were never any accidental meet ups by your lockers, either.

Your plan had been to skip theater again and take the bus home, riding it around until it dropped you off last. You wouldn’t have to see him, it wouldn’t have to hurt, for that day at least. But you were running late, another teacher asking if you were okay needing brushing off. You needed to hurry and stop by your locker to retrieve your books. The bus was leaving soon; if you wanted to leave, you’d need to rush.

The halls were empty, everyone either in their after school clubs or outside waiting for the buses. You hurried to your locker, fingers anxious to spin the code in, grab your books, and leave. You reached inside, ready to retrieve the books by their spine and disappear from this place for what would feel like a short eternity. The hall was too bright, too empty, too--

“Y/N?”

Your heart skipped a beat, head whipping to the side. Beomgyu stood mere feet from you, but he might as well have been a thousand miles away. There were no longer any stars in his eyes, no warmth or cheer. They were sad, dark pits of self-doubt. They were muted screams, begging for help but not being quite loud enough. The dark circles under his eyes pleaded as well, and the downturn of his lips was what sent your stoic, bored, “I can make this” facade spiraling downwards.

You reached forward instinctively, wanting to cup his cheek with your hand and gently rub away the dark circles with your thumb, but you froze midway. Your voice even hitched. “Beomgyu... you look…”

“Awful? Dreadful? Like hell?” he filled in for you, and you couldn’t help but nod. Your chest was tight, almost to the point you wanted to clutch and tear at your heart to find relief. And the way your best friend was standing, shoulders slumped and body looking one strong wind from caving in like a fragile house of cards, it seemed like his heart was aching, too.

“What happened to us?” you asked, voice quiet and quivering. The hot buildup of tears began behind your eyes, making the edges of your vision blur together in a mass of sad, muted tones. “Why did we—”

“I don’t know,” he answered quickly, anxiously, as if he doesn’t speak fast, he’ll lose you again. He took a tender step forward, leaving only a few feet between you, but it was still too much space. You missed being side by side, close enough to bump into each other’s shoulders or elbow each other’s sides. Beomgyu took another tiny step towards you when you didn't move back. “What were we even fighting about?”

“I don’t know.” You felt like one step away from crumbling inwards, clasping in on yourself and all the way to the cool hallway floor. Your hands were shaking now at your sides, and you gripped your hoodie hem to prevent the shivers from racing up your arms and shaking the rest of you until you shattered into tiny shards. The moment your fingers curled around the soft hem was when you realized: it was his. You’d thrown in on that morning without even thinking. Now, all you could notice was how strongly, how nicely it smelled like him. You took in a solid breath of air to prevent the tears from spilling over, but it was shaky and unconvincing. “Whatever we were fighting about, it’s not worth this. I miss you, Beomgyu.”

His eyes were still empty, no stars in sight, but now they were glossy with tears. His chin quivered, and his lips moved to say something but couldn’t. His fingers curled and uncurled around the leather strap of his messenger bag. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “I miss you. So much it hurts to breathe, so much I can’t stand to look at you in class or else I feel like crying. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please, please, forgive me and be my best friend again. I don’t think I can take life without you anymore.”

The both of you lunged forward at the same time, wrapping each other in a hug. Your arms clung to his neck while his encircled your waist, holding you close. Warm, salty tears finally spilled over, running down your cheek and onto the soft denim of his jacket. By his shaky breaths, you figured he was crying, too. “I don’t want you not in my life anymore either,” you managed, hoping somehow that you’d made sense.

Beomgyu laughed in your arms, drawing you even nearer. “Good, because I really didn’t want to have to explain to your father why I was standing under your window with my guitar instead of just letting myself in like usual.”

You laughed too, but the kind of broken laugh where you find pure happiness just after harsh sadness. Your heart swelled with joy, knowing that Beomgyu was still yours. The time you’d spent apart, not talking or goofing around or shoving each other playfully with stupid grins on both of your faces, had been life-draining. You’d never get it back, even if you spent forever together. You never wanted to go through anything like that ever again.

Beomgyu nestled into the crook of your neck, words whispered so quietly you knew instantly that they were just for you. “We’re each other’s best friends, always. Right?”

You wrap your arms around even tighter, a true smile on your face for the first time in weeks. “Right. Always, Beomgyu, always.”

The apartment is quiet. The shades are drawn open, allowing late afternoon sunlight to spill in and swim around on soft carpet floors, bathing them in warm yellow light. The television in the corner is on but mute, the news airing with no noise. The heater kicked on a minute or so ago, filling the house with nicely warm air. Outside, soft baby snowflakes begin to fall out of the sky, the first snowfall of the season. If the sound had been on, you would have known that the weatherman said the snow was no reason for concern—it wouldn’t accumulate to the point it was dangerous. Just a light dusting, something to make the outdoors look nice and wintry.

But you are unconcerned with whatever the weatherman’s words may be or the consequences of the snow. There are more pressing concerns.

Your voice warbles as you pull out the first aid kit from above the washer and walk back into the living room. “Beomgyu, I’m so so sorry, I—” You bite down on your lower lip to prevent yourself from crying; there wasn’t time for that now. The white plastic lid snaps open, and you pull out the gauze, the alcohol wipes, and the bandages with shaky hands. He sits on the edge of the couch, one hand bracing himself on the cushion, the wounded one resting tenderly on his lap.

You lower to stand on your knees and reach out to take the hurt one in yours. You stare down at his split second knuckle, an ugly gash that would surely scar no matter how kindly or tenderly you treated it. Caused because of your stupidity, your recklessness. Caused because you tripped or slipped or something and fell off the wall. Caused because he risked his safety to catch you. You feel your heart break, knowing the scar would be your fault, forever, and you can’t ever fix it no matter how hard you try.

There’s no going back, or rewinding time to try again.

Beomgyu winces as you wipe at the cut with the alcohol wipes, and you mutter sorry after sorry. It’s beginning to not even feel like a real word. You can feel your chest heaving, one step away from a total breakdown as you swim through deep and measured breaths. Guilt pours over you like a thick syrup, sticking to every surface and threatening to drag you down and drown you whole. It fills into the cracks of your armor, bubbling up inside you like a witch’s brew. As you place the gaze and wrap the bandages around his hand, your breaths are coming shallower and shallower, your ability to keep it together fading. When you tie the bandages into place, you let go and drop to sit on your heels, all energy gone. Your head hangs in shame, and you wish you could crawl away and hide somewhere until further notice.

Which would be easier if you didn’t share a damn apartment.

However, your best friend won’t let you.

“Hey,” he calls, his voice soft and soothing. His healthy hand curls under your chin, gently begging you to look up, and you comply. His eyes are calm and filled with stars again, and other emotions you can’t quite place. He smiles kindly, and you can feel your heart shatter at that instant. Right now, you don’t deserve that kindness. Your shoulders spike up and tears begin to spill over. Beomgyu’s face collapses into concern, and he slides off the couch to sit on the floor next to you, legs crossed.

When he places his hands on your shoulders, you try to shake them off. “Please, just...” Your voice falls away. How could you ever apologize for what happened? You knew you shouldn’t have, and yet you did. You knew he seriously disapproved, even if he didn’t voice it totally, and yet you continued. You knew, deep down, that you were getting cocky, and yet you didn’t stop. You had plans on teasing him, mocking him for his concern. The guilt presses down and down, crunching against your head, your shoulders, and your heart until you could scarcely breathe. Quiet sobs heave against your frame, from your torso down to your whole body. You could tell, soon, that you’d simply shake apart into fragments that could never be pieced together again.

You injured your best friend from your own stupidity.

“Hey,” Beomgyu says again, and this time, he reaches for you and pulls you into his lap, safely tucking you under his chin. You don’t resist, and even if you wanted to, you doubt you could have done it past all the crying. He gently rocks you back and forth, rubbing your back, soothing you as one would a small child. Once your sobs have subsided, and your breaths return to a semi-normal state, he speaks again. “I don’t hate you for what happened, if that’s what you think. I could never, I…”

You pull yourself slightly from his grasp, enough to stare at him at eye level, coming out from underneath the warm spot of his chin and neck and shoulder. The emotions swirling around amongst the stars in his eyes are new and unusual to yet, and some part of you feels at home with them. Your voice is quiet, almost hesitant, when you talk. “You... what?”

Beomgyu takes a breath, as if steeling himself. "I have something I need to tell you."

"Need?" you echo, head quirking to one side in confusion.

He nods, staring straight into your eyes. When he speaks, his tone is something you’ve rarely ever heard before. “Need. My chest might burst if I don’t get this off it, and that wouldn’t really help me graduate. Or tell you this. So... and seeming we might as well have almost died…” You roll your eyes at his dramatics, and Beomgyu seems hesitant, but only for a moment. Years of going up on stage have prepared him, but you can tell in this instance, he’s honest, 100% himself, and your best friend, not some actor playing a character for some play.

He takes another breath before: “I think I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes grow wide, a small gasp escapes your lips, but he doesn’t stop.

“No, that’s not right. I know I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you for a long time but this... this is different. I want to keep you safe, to wipe away any of your tears. Seeing you sad just... tears at my heart. It hurts. Whenever you're sad or upset, I feel the same way, even if it’s just words over a text message. I really did feel like I was going to die when we had that fight. Living without you was unimaginable, but I had to go four weeks without you. Without your voice, your stupid jokes, your laugh. I guess I was in love with you then, too, I just didn’t know it.”

Words escape you, any witty comeback gone. You stare at him, the honesty in his eyes, thinking you’d see him differently after his confession. But you don’t. He’s still Beomgyu. He’s still your best friend. He’s still your Beomgyu.

One of your hands raises, and you tap yourself on your sternum. “Me?”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes now, as if he expected some kind of response like this. “Yes, you. I mean, who else would look up at the night sky, invent a star-monster, then worry about it taking me? I’ve wondered if I was really in love with you, like really actually in love with you. But when you fell and I caught you and you blacked out and I didn’t know why... Y/N, I was so worried. I could feel my heart breaking and I knew that if you never woke up, I wouldn’t ever be the same again.”

He’s mere inches from you, arms around you, body heat radiating off in such pleasant ways you feel okay with melting straight into the floor. His hands move from around your back to ghost around your face, like they want to caress you but are too afraid you might shatter like a fine porcelain under his touch. And his eyes—damn, his eyes. Every star, every galaxy, stirring together to create a beautiful milky way, a gaze so firm and caring you feel as if you’ll never look away. That if you somehow managed, too, you’d feel as if you were missing something dear and important.

Your heart flutters in your chest, its beat stuttery against your wrists. Oh, how on earth did you get here?

Maybe it was when one was so starstruck by the other they stopped watching where they were walking and dripped over someone’s strewn out, overstuffed backpack. When the other offered up a seat beside them during the audition to help settle nerves. Maybe it was when they woke up next to each other after having fallen asleep after binge watching an entire anime season or two, with Netflix on some other autoplay show, one was wondering how the other could look so soft and delicate just after they wake. When the other was happy that they were in each other’s lives. Maybe it was when they declared they’d always be friends, best friends, but now always seems to be more weighty and mean a little more than before.

Maybe, just maybe, this is when they slowly turn towards each other, catching the starry glint in the other’s eye. When they slowly lean forward, ever closer, to the point they can feel one another’s soft breath. When gazes go from eyes to lips and back. When heartbeats slowly start to be harder and louder. When you feel like you might be the one crying because oh heavens—this is it.

But there are things those plays never mention, things the audience can never detect.

They never mention how the palms of hands become sweaty, or how automatic it is to take a soft breath before another pair of lips meets yours, a touch so delicate you finally understand what all the hype is about.

How nice it feels to have two hands cupping your cheeks so gently, their little fear of shattering you gone, or how your own hand curls into the fabric of his shirt as if it’s second nature, the most right thing in the world.

How tantalizingly dizzy a first kiss is.

How soft lips are, how soothingly warm to the point you wouldn’t mind if they were all you felt. How tender goosebumps trail down your spine until something begins to pool in your stomach.

How, even though you’ve become utterly breathless, you can’t stop at just one, because now something that's been building and growing for years has unlocked.

Hands that trail from cheeks to ghost over the nape of the neck, sliding down arms softly to then find purchase at your waist. Kisses, more warm, tantalizing kisses that leave you craving for more. Kisses that roam from lips to chins, then trail down the jaw to tease and nip tender patches of skin on necks, only to return to corners of lips for more wholehearted, dizzying kisses.

You��re warm, almost hot, but it’s so pleasant. What exposed skin you have tingles with feeling, with a craving touch and affection, too. The two of you rest your forehead on one another’s, breath still shallow from all the kisses exchanged, hands softly interlocked with fingers entwined, or as much as one can with bandaged knuckles. He finds his voice first, though even it is soft and a little hoarse. “I should have done that a long time ago, huh?”

You giggle and snuggle closer, nestling into the crook of his neck. You place a kiss underneath his chin. Beomgyu rubs even patterns on your back with his healthy hand while you take the bandaged one in your own, cradling it gently. You pull it up to your own lips, kissing where each knuckle is softly. When you look up, you see the stars glowing in his eyes, brighter than anytime you’ve ever seen them.

Beomgyu sighs, eyes softening at the corners. “I guess the kiss in the play won’t matter anymore, hm?”

You lightly slug in him the shoulder, a love-filled smile playing on your lips. He smiles back in a similar manner, his eyes lighting up with happiness. “Oh, and I guess this means you love me back, too.”

People fill and mingle around the diner, looking for an open seat among the crowds of customers. And older couple swoops in as soon as you vacate the booth, not even caring that your dirty dishes were still neatly stacked at the edge awaiting pick up. But you didn’t mind. You push through the doors to wait outside while Beomgyu paid. Even though there’s a small crowd at the counter, you knew exactly which one he was. Beomgyu wore his light blue jacket, the one that accentuated all his features nicely. You’d have to make sure that whatever Beomgyu-sized scarf you bought matched that jacket. He needed to wear it as often as possible.

The first official date was almost over, but you knew there would be many more to come.

Once he’s finished paying, Beomgyu makes a beeline for the door, carefully navigating around all the people crowding the entryway. “Is it always this busy?” you ask when he rejoins you.

Beomgyu shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess so. But knowing you, the most gorgeous person ever alive, would be there waiting for me was very motivational.”

You do little to hid your smile.

He takes your hand in his, interlacing your fingers as if it were second nature. Maybe, it was, and you two had just been trying to ignore it. This walk from the diner back to your apartment had been done countless times before, but this one is special. And now, you think, it really is your apartment.

Beomgyu starts to casually rub gentle circles onto your skin with his thumb. “It’s the perfect kind of weather for me to take off my jacket and give it to you to keep you warm, you know.” He then takes a deep sigh and throws his head back. His next words come out playfully clipped. “But, someone had to be smart and wear their jacket.”

“Well, you’re not dating a fool,” you chuckle. When you notice Beomgyu pouting, eyes downcast away from you, you laugh again and poke him in the shoulder to get his attention. “Thank you anyway, Beomgyu, for always thinking of me.”

He turns back to you, all smiles. “Darling, I don’t think I could stop thinking of you even if I tried.”

“Ew, gross.” You laugh, white curls of breath forming in front of you. But, unlike last time, there is no cold or ice in sight. No dark thoughts and doubts plague you tonight. You’re delightfully warm and happy.

“Ew, gross yourself,” Beomgyu mimics, throwing his tone to match yours. “I’m cold too, by the way. So I guess thanks for thinking of me by thinking of yourself. God, you’re like the smartest person ever.”

As the walk home continues, so does the conversation. "Our parents seemed pretty happy when we told them, huh?" Beomgyu mentions, a smile playing at his lips.

“Maybe they planned it,” you muse. “Maybe the director was in on it. They wrote it all together because they decided it was now or never.”

Laughter fills the air, and even in the dark spots between the lampposts are filled with light.

You nudge your shoulder into Beomgyu’s, garnering his attention. “Can I ask you a question?” When he nods, eager to hear what you have to say, you continue. “Why did you throw your lunch on me that day in seventh grade?”

“That was an honest mistake!” he exclaims, eyes filled with desperate honesty. The blush along his cheeks as he looks away is readily apparent. When he looks up, his eyes are filled with sincerity. “But sitting next to you on audition day wasn’t.”

A soft smile plays at the corner of your lips. “I’m glad I got there late, then.”

“Me, too.” A moment of silence falls between you, but it’s comfortable, like an overtly fluffy blanket made just for two. Afterward, Beomgyu is the first to speak again. “Okay, I’ve confessed something from our past that’s mildly embarrassing yet still endearing. Now it’s your turn.” He turns to you with a mischievous grin on his lips. "’Fess up, darling."

It takes a small instant, before: “Oh! You know that time we stayed up all night and watched anime after that big project? When we woke up the next morning, even though you scared the hell out of me, I thought you were pretty cute.”

Beomgyu’s eyebrows quirk up, his grin grows wider. “Cute? Me? You thought I was cute?”

Pink blush rushes to your cheeks before you smack him on the shoulder. You drop his hand and quicken your pace. “You were cute, you’re not anymore.”

Beomgyu races to catch up with you, takes your hand again, and bumps into your shoulder gently. “Of course I’m not cute anymore. I’m handsome.”

You make a fake gag. “Oh, please!” There’s no sense of lightness when you shove his shoulder.

“Hey, now,” he says, rubbing his shoulder with his free hand, another fake pout on his lips. “Be nice to your boyfriend.”

You scoff. “Is that what you are now?”

“What else would I be? More than friends but not a boyfriend…” Beomgyu’s eyes brighten as he lets go of your hand and snaps his fingers. “Aha! Your husband!”

You shove him with two hands this time. The idea of being with him like that is overwhelming to the max. “Fine, you’re my boyfriend, then.” The word feels foreign on your tongue, but you can easily imagine them growing comfortable. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your Beomgyu.

He slings his arm over your shoulder and pulls you close as your apartment slowly grows larger in the distance. He leans his head over and rests it gently on yours. “I guess I lied,” he mutters, and you pull back confused even with his eyes on you, rich and loving. “I told you the play wouldn’t change things between us.”

A smile slowly spreads across your face. “But... we changed in a good way, right?”

Beomgyu answers you with a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, caressing your shoulders kindly and pulling you just a little closer. “Yeah, we changed in a good way.”

#kdiarynet #kwritersworld #kflixnet #k-labels #txt fluff #txt headcanons #txt scanarios #txt imagines #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu headcanons #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu imagines #fluff #angst #scarios #imagines #all #prose #txt

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thefiery-phoenix · 1 year ago

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MY SLEEPING BEAUTY PART 2 (YANDERE PETER PARKER X READER)

Part 1

You woke up the next day feeling really fresh and energetic and you couldn't help but feel that during the night most of the times, something would hold you. But you had no idea that it was your friendly neighborhood spiderman Peter Parker who would hold you and fantasize about both of your lives together

Speaking of Peter Parker, he already started planning to kidnap you so he can have you all for himself. Finally all the days where he protected you and watched over you from the shadows were gone, you can be right in front of him where he'll always love you and smother you with his love. He knows it might take lot of time for you to adjust and get used to your new surroundings and life with him but it's for your own good darling! He's just trying to protect you from all the dangers in the world, and he as an Avenger and as Spiderman knows how dangerous and bad the world is for a pure kind innocent angel like yourself. He decided to take you the next night in your sleep so he won't get caught of kidnapping someone in broad daylight

You couldn't help but get an uneasy feeling as the day passed while you were in school. You were really close friends with Peter and you told him about how you felt and how something warm was on your bed the other night and you actually had a good night's sleep for once. Oh yes, Peter DOES know about that and it's a good thing he held you in his protective arms and embrace otherwise you wouldn't go to sleep and you would've stayed up watching shows on Netflix and anime and reading fanfiction and whatnot. And Peter couldn't have that, what sort of boyfriend would he be if the love of his life couldn't go to sleep and gets tired the next day? He told you that he'd make sure nothing happens to you and you didn't think too much about his words. You thought he said them as a kind concerned friend but in reality, boi here is literally freaking obsessed with you

You finally finished your day at school and went home and Peter followed you secretly without knowing. He kept an eye on you 'for your safety of course' and watched you through your window. He was mesmerized by whatever you did, everything you did drove him crazy. He loved the way you danced and hummed to the tunes of your favorite songs but he felt upset and wanted to hold you and comfort you again when you whined and grumbled in frustration while doing something difficult for homework. 'It won't be too long my love, I'll give you the life you deserve' he thought and watched you for some more time. Your mother called you for dinner later and you went down. While you were having your dinner Peter took the chance to look at your room in a more detailed manner and he loved the way you organized eveything so perfectly. He made a mental note to design a same room like this one when he takes you and he collected some little souvenirs for himself

When he heard you come back he quickly leaped out of the window. You saw the window open and you thought 'Strange... I thought it was closed. Meh, I probably left it open again or something' and you closed it. As you were getting ready for bed Peter got ready to take you for himself. It was now or never. He slowly snuck into your room after he changed into his Spiderman suit and picked you up carefully and gently bridal style. He brushed a few strands off from your face, gently kissed your lips and pulled back red faced and unable to believe he finally had you for himself. He'd finally take you to your new home where you don't have to get worried about school anymore. He was finally going to give you the life you deserved, of love and affection

#yandere peter parker #yandere peter parker x reader #yandere peter parker headcanons #yandere peter parker imagines #yandere peter parker oneshots #yandere peter parker scenarios #dark peter parker x reader #dark peter parker headcanons #yandere avengers headcanons #yandere avengers imagines #yandere avengers x reader #yandere avengers #yandere marvel characters oneshots #yandere marvel characters x reader #yandere marvel characters #yandere marvel #dark marvel x reader #dark marvel

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jymwahuwu · 1 year ago

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I said I'm not interested in AU but this is what popped into my head… HSR retro AU. No more space technology.

Basically you are a college student 🙈🙈🙈 Depending on whether you are an extrovert or an introvert, you may go shopping and play with your friends during the holidays, have a party, or stay comfortably at home listening to music with MP3 and cassette tapes, or reading novels on the subway.

You use a bulky computer to click on the Windows XP system, and spend hours downloading music and opening chat software. Your MSN friends list is as follows:

Jing Yuan:

Your mysterious neighbor is much older than you. You have never understood what the Xianzhou Alliance is. It is said that he kept a lion named Mimi in the yard, but every time you passed by, you thought it was just a cute cat. He'll stuff you with sweets and prepare you milk and afternoon tea, giving you advice. Well, he can also write ancient poetry. You shamelessly gave this old man your homework.

(You lie on his lap and sleep, breathing quietly.)

Aventurine & Ratio:

These two live together, are also your neighbors, professors, friends... You are not sure what their relationship is, but they quarrel every day. Aventurine is a high-level executive in IPC. Every time you visit a department store, you will whisper in your heart that this is also an IPC. He takes the bill in your mailbox every month and pays it off, very weird. His car is the most talked about in the community.

Ratio is your college professor...he is very strict about grades and academic performance. You cursed him one time and he heard you and he took you back to the office for an OTK spanking...unfortunately, it was legal. You have since become his target in class...

Sunday & Robin:

They still have halos and wings, share the same MSN account, and even the same pager. They have no privacy from each other. They are well-known brothers and sisters of the Xipe Church. They are very popular and eye-catching, attracting people's attention wherever they go. So if you are an introvert, the difference is even more pronounced haha. But both of them will approach you, in the name of kindness, with a look of concern on their face. Robin picks out clothes for you and lends you homework to copy. In return, you agree to go to church on the weekend… and help her sell cookies at the church charity sale.

Sunday provides insight into your life and schedule in the name of "for your own good". You don't know why you wrote your schedule in a notebook for him… He shows up in front of your house and listens to music with you (using the same MP3 player). You share with him a few things you learned in the sex education class, and he says that he has signed the commitment card (you: ? what is this). Promise to remain chaste until marriage… That card has an inexplicable printed pattern, with a photo of a couple holding hands, leaving you speechless. But you don’t know why you signed this commitment card under his supervision…

Dan Heng:

Your nerdy college classmate, with dragon horns (don't ask me why). He reminds you of class and exam times and lends you notes, leaving you with the last piece of cake. You always tease him until he blushes and gets angry.

Dan Feng:

Dan Heng's brother. He seems to be very traditional. You haven't seen him much and you only added him as an MSN friend.

Blade:

The mysterious old man. He seems to have a grudge against Dan Feng and Dan Heng. One time you were playing cards with Yanqing and Dan Heng. He suddenly broke into the yard, said something incomprehensible and then started fighting with Dan Feng. This scared you to death. Kafka appeared to stop him. You added Kafka friends to avoid being attacked by Blade.

Kafka:

The mysterious woman who can control Blade. You don't know who she is, but she seems to know you well and be gentle to you.

Silver Wolf:

Your college classmate has designed several computer games and won many awards at a young age, and occasionally plays cards with you. For some reason, she is very close to Blade and Kafka.

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wasyago · 2 years ago

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Dear Wasyago,

Strange, I have always thought it was spelled as Wasayago. But recently I've realized, I can't read very well.

I want to send appreciation today, to you.

You've taught me a lot about art. You've taught me a lot how to draw certain things, and you have opened my eyes to new perspective of art, ever since I started following you. Colours are brighter, I experiment more, I can see a specter of visuals that was previously hidden from me. It's like gaining shrimp colors.

Your art feels like an art classroom. There's sun pouring in from the windows, and there's tree leaves in front of them. Every time you come in you see different art projects. Paints add on to the tables, that will never scrub off again. There's dirty cups with paint water, and brushes, in the sink. It's lunch break, and there's people here. Some are just doing their math homework right before class, some are working on their sculpture, some are picking out paints, some are working on their new piece, on a fresh canvas. And it is so alive.

Your art feels so alive. Like the leaves, the people, the stains. It's really nice to see, every single time you post, how lovingly you bring a character into the world (My favorite so far is that one doodle of Modern au Gillion eating noodles, I have it in my favorites gallery).

I would like to see some unfinished, maybe forever to be so, doodles that you weren't especially proud of. We'll love it all.

Respectfully,

Marcus Bloodsmith

oh, thank you so much, this is so sweet qwq

im happy to know that you feel this way about my art, and im glad i could help you with some advice! it feels a bit weird to show unfinished or scrapped art under such a nice message, but yeah why not. and its funny that you mentioned the gillion eating noodles one, because its also one of the pieces that i really didn't like and didn't want to post hdgsh. i dont have that many unfinished drawings left because i delete or redraw most of them, but i have a couple that might be fun to share... and i guess it's gonna be a long post bc i wanna tell a little about each one or at least name them.

there's this art of chip, the first time i properly tried to figure out a way to draw him back when i just started listening. redrew this piece later, kept the sketch on the left, but the right one i changed completely because i didn't like the vibe this one has.

there's this attempt at redesigning caspian after i found out he was a water genasi, plus the first version of that art of caspian, pretzel and gill. this design didn't feel "caspian" enough, it looked too soft and kind where i wanted him to be more layed back and chill and sarcastic and with a bit of an edge. redrew both pieces later. the underwater drawing also has an unfinished background in this version, i added some fishies later so it didn't feel that empty.

some random sketch of gillion to show off how the lightning scars look on his face and neck. i quite like it, but it didn't really fit in the post with three proper drawings and one sketch so i decided to scrap it.

there's this drawing where i tried to figure out how the capital of the undersea looked like. i really didn't know where i was going with it and didn't have a good idea when i started drawing, so its a mess of things with nothing to really focus on. i tried to add a character on it later to breathe some life into it, but it didn't work out since i didn't focus it on the character from the beginning. plus i don't like how the colors turned out, and the entire concept of the environment feels weak and boring to me. i still want to draw more concepts of the undersea and try a couple other ideas, but probably at a later date...

the first version of whatever try it was to design gill's armor. (fun fact, i have more armor designs scheduled for tomorrow). this one i redrew almost immediately, i really didn't like how it turned out and how the legs were cut off and it looked so messy with no real accent point or personality. plus the smaller copy of the drawing in the corner just didn't look good. im not exactly proud of the redrawn version either (that's why i did another one yesterday lol), but im glad i redrew it anyway, it looks a lot better than this one.

the first sketch of that one gillion drawing. i couldn't figure out the colors for it for so long and wanted to drop the idea entirely. but i left it to sit for a couple hours and eventually got the motivation to come back to it and finish it. for most of the illustration pieces i did for jrwi there were multiple versions, where i just didn't like the first one and redrew the whole thing with a different composition and colors. didn't save any of those drawings tho...

this drawing of jay but with green wings and a slightly different color shirt. it was actually the first version of this drawing, and i changed the colors to blue later. wanted to post both of them side by side but then decided against it. that's why this drawing survived and was properly saved and not just deleted.

more recent attempts at designing the chaingel. i like the concept, and the pose in the second sketch is pretty badass, but the execution is just not there. it doesn't feel right, doesn't have the right kind of vibe that this character gives off. so im sure i will try and draw her later when i figure out what's missing and how to show her personality in the way it feels in my head. but these two sketches were never going to see the light of day, so now they're here.

aand this is it, this is everything that wasn't deleted in the past month for one or another reason. i feel like im more chill with deleting and redrawing things, so a lot of initial sketches and concepts never get saved or seen by anyone. im also on mobile so i can attach only ten files lol. not that it matters, the last two were just random figure drawings for warm up, not much to talk about.

#very sorry to the tagging anon but im not tagging this as jrwi. this is just nothing.#yagotalk

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carousel-anon-aka-alexander · 4 months ago

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“You have to do what?” Nausicaa and I sat on the fire escape outside my bedroom, our feet dangling over 104th Street. Over the past few weeks, as summer wound down, the fire escape had become our happy place. And despite everything that had happened today, I was happy. It’s hard to be sad when I’m with Nausi.

I filled her in on my first day at AHS: the classes, the headaches, the unplanned field trip to the bottom of the sea. Nausicaa swung her legs—a nervous habit, like she wanted to kick away mosquitoes or pesky wind spirits.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said. “Maybe I can get my mom to write you a rec.”

Her mom was Athena, goddess of wisdom, so a college rec from her probably would have gone a long way. Unfortunately, the few times we’d met, Athena had sized me up with her piercing gray eyes like I was a deepfake.

“Your mom doesn’t like me,” I said. “Besides, my mom was pretty clear. I have to do new quests for three gods. And the requests have to come from them.”

“Ugh.”

“That’s what I said.”

Nausi fixed her gaze on the horizon, like she was looking for a solution way out in Yonkers. Do solutions come from Yonkers?

“We’ll figure it out,” she promised. “We’ve been through worse.”

I loved her confidence. And she was right. . . . We’d been through so much together already, it was hard to imagine anything we couldn’t face.

Occasionally, somebody would ask me if I’d ever dated anybody besides Nausicaa, or if I’d ever thought about dating someone else.

Honestly? The answer was no. When you’ve helped each other through Tartarus, the deepest and most horrifying place in the universe, and you’ve come out alive and stronger than you were to begin with . . . well, that isn’t a relationship you could ever replace, or should ever want to. Yeah, okay, so I wasn’t even eighteen yet. Still . . . no one knew me better, or put up with me more, or held me together as much as her, and I knew she could say the same about me—because if I were slacking as a boyfriend, she would let me know real quick.

“Maybe they’ll be small quests,” I said hopefully. “Like picking up garbage on the highway on Saturday or something. But this is an I thing and not a we thing. I don’t want to drag you into it.”

“Hey.” She rested her hand on mine. “You’re not dragging me into anything. I’m going to help you get through high school and into college with me, whatever it takes.”

“So you’ll write my essays?”

“Nice try.”

We sat in silence for a minute, our shoulders touching. We were both ADHD, but I could’ve stayed like that for hours, perfectly content, appreciating the way the afternoon sunlight glinted in Nausicaa’s hair, or the way her pulse aligned with mine when we held hands.

Her blue T-shirt was emblazoned with the gold letters SODNYC. That sounded like an insult, but it was just the name of her new high school: School of Design, New York City.

I’d asked her about her first day already. After starting to tell me about her architecture teacher and first big homework assignment, she’d abruptly cut herself off with “It was fine. What about you?” I guess she knew I would have more to tell, more problems to solve.

That didn’t seem fair to me—not because she was wrong, but because I didn’t want to put her second. The thing about great problem-solvers is that they often don’t let others help them with their own stuff.

I was getting up my nerve to ask again, to make sure no gods or monsters had visited her during her day and given her quests, when my dad called from inside. “Hey, you two. Want to help with dinner?”

“Sure, Tiresias!” Nausicaa pulled her legs up and climbed through the window. If there was anyone she liked helping more than me, it was my dad.

When we got to the kitchen, dad was chopping garlic for the stir-fry. He wore an apron one of the souls had given him for an end-of-year present.

The quote on the front read “A RECIPE IS A STORY THAT ENDS WITH A GOOD MEAL.” —PAT CONROY.

I didn’t know who that was. Probably a literary person, since Tiresias liked literature in a way. I liked the quote, though, because I liked good meals.

Nausicaa grabbed a knife. “Dibs on the broccoli.”

Tiresias grinned at her. His black hair had gotten a little longer and curlier over the summer, and he’d taken to shaving only every couple of days, so he looked, as my mom put it, “pleasantly roguish.”

“I cede the chopping board to the daughter of Athena,” he said with a little bow.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Nausicaa said, equally formal.

My mother then appeared, making me jump, but he laughed. “You two are adorable.”

Dad winked at Mom, then turned to heat up the wok. Ever since last spring, when Tiresias had tutored Nausicaa in some impossible English project, the two of them had bonded over Shakespeare, of all things, so half the time when they talked to each other, they sounded like they were acting out scenes from Macbeth.

“Alex,” my mom said, “would you set the table?”

He didn’t really need to ask, since that was my usual job. Five mismatched pastel-colored plates. I got the blue one, always. Paper napkins. Forks. Glasses and a pitcher of tap water. Nothing fancy.

I appreciated having a simple ritual like thissomething that did not involve monster-fighting, divine prophecies, or near-death experiences in the depths of the Underworld. Setting a table for dinner might sound boring to you, but when you have no downtime in your life ever . . . boring starts to sound pretty great.

My mom checked the rice cooker, then took a bowl of marinated tofu from the fridge. He hummed as she worked—some Nirvana song, I think. “Come as You Are”? From the glow on his face and the sparkle in his eyes, I could tell he was in a good place. He moved like he was floating, or about to burst into some dance moves. It made me smile just seeing him like that.

Now he and Tiresias had a good life together. And if I felt a little sad about having one foot out the door just when things were getting better, hey, that wasn’t my mom’s or Tir’s fault. They did everything they could to include me. Besides, I wanted to go to college. If I had to choose between being with Nausicaa and . . . well, anything, that was no choice at all.

Tiresias dropped a clove of garlic into the wok, which sizzled and steamed like a sneezing dragon. (And yes, I’ve seen dragons sneeze.) “I think we are ready, milady.”

“Incoming.” Nausicaa dumped the stir-fry mixture into the oil just as our doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” I said, and ran to let in our fifth for dinner.

As soon as I opened the door, Roselio shoved a basket of fruit into my hands. “I brought strawberries.” He blinked. “Is that tofu stir-fry?”

Osiris had followed behind him.

“Hello to you, too,” I said.

“I love tofu stir-fry!” Roselio trotted around me and made a beeline for the kitchen, because Roselio knows what’s good.

My best friend had allowed his appearance to go a little wild, which is saying something…

He wore his standard orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, and still used specially fitted tennis shoes for some reason, noisy and hard for the Mist to cover up. I guess the explanation “athleisurewear plus tap-dancing shoes” didn’t work so well.

My mom hugged Roselio and gushed over the basket of strawberries as I put them on the kitchen counter.

“They smell wonderful!” He said. “Perfect dessert!”

“Last crop of the summer,” Roselio said wistfully.

He gave me a sad smile, like he was ruminating about how this had been my last summer at camp as well. Once we graduate high school, if we live that long, most of us transition out into the regular world. The thinking is that by then, we are strong enough to fend for ourselves, and monsters tend to leave us alone because we’re no longer such easy targets. That’s the theory, anyway. . . .

“Now we have to get ready for gourd season,” Roselio continued with a sigh. “Don’t get me wrong. I love decorative gourds, but they’re not as tasty.”

My mom patted his shoulder. “We’ll make sure these berries don’t go to waste.”

The rice cooker chimed just as Tiresias turned off the burner on the stovetop and gave the steaming wok one last stir. “Who’s hungry?”

Everything tastes better when you’re eating with people you love. I remember each meal my friends and I shared in the galley on board the Argo II—even if we were mostly just chowing down on junk food between life-and-death battles. These days, at home, I tried to savor every dinner with my mom and Tir.

I spent most of my childhood moving from boarding school to boarding school, so I never had the whole family-dinner thing growing up. The few times I was home supper together had never been appealing. The only thing worse

My mom did her best. Everything she did was to protect me, every rough past just made me appreciate these times even more.

We talked about my mom’s writing. After years of dreaming and struggling, his first novel was going to be published in the spring. He hadn’t made much money on the deal, but hey, a publisher had actually paid him for his writing! He was presently wavering between elation and extreme anxiety about what would happen when his book came out.

Finally, I filled in Roselio and Osiris about my first day at school, and the three recommendation letters I was supposed to get from the gods.

A look of panic flashed across Osiris’ face, but he suppressed it quickly. He sat up straighter. “Well then, we’ll do these quests together!”

Roselio scooted back in his chair, “I’m.. good. I just wanna cook.”

“Dude-”

“Pleaseee-”

“Fine. But we’re telling you everything.” Osiris grinned.

I tried not to show how relieved I was deep down. “Os, you don’t have to—”

“Are you kidding?” He grinned at Nausicaa. “A chance to do quests, just the three of us?”

“The Powerpuff Girls,” Nausicaa suggested.

“Shrek, Fiona, and Donkey,” I said.

“Wait a minute,” Osiris said.

“I’m fine with this,” Nausicaa said.

Tiresias raised his glass. “The monsters will never know what hit them. Just be careful, you three.”

“Oh, it’ll be fine,” Roselio said, though his left eye twitched. “Besides, it always takes a while for word to get around among the gods. They’ve probably got weeks before the first request comes in!”

*screams* I LOVE THIS SO MUCH 😭😭😭😭

@mini-assassin-osiris @just-a-mer @roselio-and-the-thorn @thrpr0phetuseek @fated-runaway

#Ooc #🎠 anon #Art

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arcadiasfiction · 1 year ago

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Chat Text: Part One

After fighting yet another akuma, Cat Noir swung into his bedroom through the open window. Feeling a bit tired, he took a moment to stretch in his black leather cat suit. As he did, his green feline eyes caught sight of his phone which was resting on the edge of his desk.

"I forgot to text Marinette back!" he said, slapping a hand to his forehead. "She's probably really worried. Let me send her a quick text first, then I'll de-transform."

---

“Come back here, you little monsters!”

"Noooo! Ladybug, save us!"

The twin girls laughed as they ran around Alya's legs, trying to escape.

"I will akumatize you!" Alya said dramatically, holding up her hands and clawing her fingers like a T-Rex. At that moment, her phone began to ring. It was Marinette. Alya answered.

"Hey girl, what's up?"

"Alya! Something's wrong with Adrien!"

Alya eyes widened with concern.

"What do you mean? Is he sick?"

"Maybe! I don't know! Let me send you screenshots of his texts, and you tell me."

After a few moments, Alya received the screenshots. The start of the conversation was pretty normal. Marinette and Adrien were working on a school project together, and Marinette was asking what part of it he would like to take on.

Marinette: You ok with doing the report?

Adrien: I'll do whatever you want me to.

Marinette: No. I want you to do whatever you like.

Adrien: Whatever I like?

Marinette: Yeah.

Adrien: Then I'd like to have you here with me.

Adrien: and I'd like to hold your hand

Adrien: and share with you my room-side view of Paris while telling you how much I love you.

Marinette: I was asking what you want to do for the project!

Adrien: I'll research whatever you want me to. Are you happy being with me?

Marinette: Of course!

Adrien: Then I'll be happy to do whatever, however you want.

Adrien: Tell me how you want me to kiss you, and I'll do it.

Marinette: But we've only held hands so far, so idk.

Adrien: I can do something about that, if you want. What would you like, Mari?

Alya tried to swipe for more, but the screenshots stopped there. Something about their dynamic felt familiar, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. Alya fanned her face for a moment before asking Marinette, "So how did you reply to that?"

Coughing came from the other end of the line.

"I uh…blacked out. I don't remember."

Sure, she did. Alya narrowed her eyes, doubtful.

"But you guys have been dating for like over a month now…"

"No, Alya! You don't understand. He never texts like this. Here's a conversation we had yesterday. This is how it normally is."

Alya's phone pinged with another set of screenshots.

Adrien: Hey, Marinette!

Marinette: Hey Adrien!

Adrien: I was just thinking about you.

Marinette: That's nice. Me too!

Adrien: How's it going with designing the menu for your parents' bakery?

Marinette: It's going great. I can't wait to show you the redesign!

Adrien: Can't wait to see it. I love how talented you are Marinette. It's impressive.

Marinette: Thanks!

Adrien: Want to go grab some ice cream?

Marinette: Of course! Let me ask my parents.

Adrien: I can't wait to see you!

Marinette: Same!

Alya frowned. The second conversation did sound much more like him.

"Maybe his cousin Felix stole his phone and is playing tricks on you."

"I hope not! I need to check with Adrien tomorrow to see what this is about."

"Did you ask him while you guys were texting?"

"I did and well… I'll just send you the shot."

Another screenshot arrived.

Marinette: Let's focus on the project!!! Adrien! You ok today?

Adrien: I'm fine. But you seem a bit tense. You ok?

Marinette: I'm alright.

Adrien: Want to watch a movie with me tonight? It'll help you relax.

Marinette: No. We have homework and this project!

Adrien: You're wearing that annoyed pout right now, aren't you?

Marinette: No.

Adrien: That's too bad. I love your pout. I also love when you wear your hair down, but then you're just beautiful all the time, Mari. I want to see you.

Alya cleared her throat.

"Either someone stole his phone or he's totally delusional."

"Yes! And I didn't ask anymore because I was scared."

"Scared you would black out again?"

"Uh--something like that. I'll just have to wait until school tomorrow. I'm sure he'll have an explanation."

---

Adrien, now de-transformed and back in his typical casual shirt and jeans, sat at his desk with his phone in his hands, stunned.

True, he was in a hurry to get back to her. But in hindsight, Adrien realized that sending text messages to Marinette while he was still Cat Noir was not the best idea. Anxiety washed over him as reread his text conversation with her. He ran a hand through his blond hair.

"Plagg, this is a disaster!"

"Disaster is my middle name," said Plagg while chomping on a cheese wedge.

"I was only going to send one text. I don't know what came over me!"

"That Marinette is your main cheese, so it's only natural for your feelings to overflow. It's like coming across a tasty piece of Camembert. It is poetry."

Adrien massaged his face with his hands. "I know we're dating now, but this is just too much. Ladybug didn't like when I was like this, and I'm sure Marinette would find it weird too. I'll try to smooth things over tomorrow."

"From the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks."

"Plagg, don't rub it in!"

---

How is Adrien going to fix his texting faux pas? See in Part Two!

#miraculous fanfic #plagg kwami #adrien agreste #miraculous adrien #marinette dupain cheng #mlb fanfic #miraculous plagg #cat noir #chat noir #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #marichat #adrienette #alya cesaire

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bluejaysandblackbats · 1 year ago

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Catch and Release

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: AU where Jason doesn't die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.

Chapters: 3/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Chapter Three: Timeout

The on-campus suspension wasn't that bad. It beat riding in the car with Dick. I finally managed to stop crying before we got to the school, so I had enough time to hold the icepack in my lunch to my eyes to look normal again. Mr. Ames sent me straight to the counselor's office anyway. The counselor was new, or I didn't recognize him. I sat down and looked around until he tapped on the desk with his pen. "Hey, Jason, I'm Mr. Finney... Can we talk about yesterday?" he asked. "Short-term memory's shot, but I'll give it a try on one condition," I replied. Mr. Finney nodded. "Can you open that window? I'm feeling shut in." I wasn't joking. I hid it well, but I'd developed claustrophobia from the accident. "Of course," Mr. Finney replied as he opened the window for me. "Would you like the door cracked?" I shook my head. "You were saying?" I asked. "Can we talk about the fight yesterday?" Mr. Finney repeated. I nodded. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "I should've had better control over my feelings," I mumbled. "Jason, what were you feeling at the time?" Mr. Finney asked. The last thing I wanted to talk about was how I felt. "I was just sick of feeling weak," I answered. It wasn't a lie. I didn't have any reason to lie. That was the last substantial thing I contributed to the conversation. He wasn't bad at his job, not by far. I think he knew I'd be shut off. I'd give him nothing but breadcrumbs. "How long have you been claustrophobic?" Mr. Finney asked.

"I started having symptoms in April," I answered, "It's January now. Nine months."

"Because of the accident?" Mr. Finney questioned. I nodded. I shut my eyes as I recalled what it felt like to be trapped between my mother's body and the debris from the explosion. "Jason?" "I'm done talking. I don't-. I'm sorry," I stammered. Once I had the thought in my head, it took a while to push it back down. I squeezed my hands together to stop them from shaking. "Can I go now?" "Sure, Jason... You can go," Mr. Finney replied, and I walked to the designated campus suspension room. I'd never been back there before. I worked on homework while I was there until the lunch bell rang. Alfred made me two chicken wraps for lunch and a cup of pudding. After lunch, Bruce came to talk to Mr. Ames in person. They had a long conversation that resulted in Bruce taking me home early. "What's wrong?" I asked. Bruce shook his head. "Nothing. I want to know what happened between you and Dick this morning," Bruce whispered. I looked out the window. "You can't pick me up early from school to make me apologize," I replied. "What happened?" Bruce asked once more. I didn't want to talk about it. Maybe I should've. It might've helped. "Fine, but that's not why I picked you up early. I almost forgot we had to reschedule your Wednesday for today." "So, nothing on Wednesday?" I asked.

"Ophthalmologist on Wednesday morning and the optometrist right after, but you'll be there for the second half of school," Bruce replied.

"Are my glasses ready?" I asked. "They should be," Bruce answered. Even after my orbital bone fracture healed, I couldn't see well out of my right eye. "But they also want to see if Monday affected your sight." I grew silent. I knew Bruce wanted me to talk about what happened, but I didn't feel like talking about that. "Is Dick gone?" I asked. "No, he's gonna be here until the end of the week," Bruce replied, "Business..." I rolled my eyes. Business. "Don't be like that," Bruce chastised me.

"Be like what? I'm just peachy," I muttered. I knew Bruce was short with me, and I wanted to push him. I just needed him to snap back. "I have a role to play, Jason," Bruce explained. "You have a lot of roles. Hero, philanthropist, businessman, bachelor... Oh, and an involved father. Guess we both forgot that one, huh, Bruce?" I chuckled. Bruce pulled over on the side of the road and pointed his finger in my face before catching himself. "Hope you enjoyed that. That was your last cheap shot, Jason. I'm serious. You're on thin ice," Bruce warned. I grinned. "I've got tons more, though," I joked. "Enough!" Bruce yelled. I grew silent. "Jason, you've been more insufferable now than you've been in months. I'm sick of it. You have until we get to the doctor's to get it together. I get it. I do," Bruce berated me. He'd finally gotten tired of me pushing him. I didn't expect that to be the last straw, though. I shut my mouth and let him drive me to my appointment. I didn't know what to say to him anyway. I got what I wanted, and it was a hollow victory. I didn't have to see my Wednesday doctor, but Bruce made me go to a pulmonologist twice a month after my lung collapsed again during a bout of pneumonia in October. It was painful. The nurse checked me in and asked me a few questions before sending the doctor in. I sat on the hospital bed, staring at her as she checked my breathing for herself. "You got in a fight. Did you experience any shortness of breath?" she asked. The pulmonologist was no-nonsense, and she quickly got to the point. "Nuh-uh," I replied as she let me pull my shirt down. "What about school? Do you have P.E.?" she asked. I shook my head. "Any concerns or changes?" "Nope," I replied. She nodded. "Okay, what's wrong? Not a single joke?" she questioned. "I've told one too many today," I replied, "And today kind of sucked..." She nodded and sent me out to Bruce. Bruce embraced me as soon as I walked out the door. I would've pushed him away any other day, but I needed it then. I hugged back, and he pulled away. "I love you. I don't say it enough," Bruce whispered.

I walked ahead of him so he couldn't see me crying. He wouldn't start the car when we got to the parking lot. "I'm sorry," I mumbled. "You wanna grab a bite to eat before we go home?" Bruce asked. I nodded. I almost felt like myself again, but it didn't last. There was an explosion down the street, and Bruce left me to sort things out. He parked me outside the restaurant, and I ordered food and sat in the car. All the anger and bitterness I had toward him came flooding back. I ate my food in the car and waited until Alfred came to pick me up. "Master Jason-." "It's fine, Alfred... Can we go home now?" I asked. I don't know. Maybe there was no use in trying.

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cheekymoist · 2 months ago

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youtube

Kids Outdoor Playhouse For Children

Children love their own space, and kid's playhouses offer them exactly that and are ideal for all ages. With a child's outdoor playhouse in your backyard, you not only know where they are, but can also click here keep an eye on their safety with an item that enables them to play with their friends while adding value to your home.

Outdoor Play houses A wooden kid's playhouse can take the form of an outdoor clubhouse or simply an outdoor playhouse that will keep your children occupied during these long summer months. They tend to need little maintenance and a lick of paint once a year will keep it looking fresh and habitable. Children have a lot of energy to expend, and also very inquiring minds, and leaving them to find their own outdoor amusement can be very dangerous. If you try to entertain them yourself you will likely get exhausted, and struggle with all the other stuff you have to do around the home. It is too expensive to take them out every day, and you need an alternative to them getting up to mischief in the garden.

Day care is not a realistic option for parents that have their child's interests at heart, and while commercial playgrounds, day care and kinders generally have the children's needs in mind, they cannot offer the degree of outdoor exercise that a developing child needs. A wooden kid's playhouse is the ideal answer. You can situate the kids outdoor playhouse in your garden by itself, or even better, construct your own children's playground in your backyard, with swings, slides and the playhouse, either in the form of a small house filled with toys or as a small outdoor clubhouse. Make sure it is big enough for their friends, with a table, some seats and even beanbags they can lie around on. A door, windows and waterproof roof are musts. Your child that hates school homework will suddenly find that school work is fabulous when carried out in their own outdoor playhouse, sitting on their own wooden chair at their own table.

As soon as they get home from school they will be demanding to get out into their kid's playhouse to get on with their school work. The play house will be whatever they want it to be. At one moment it is a dungeon or dragon's castle, at the next a saloon for a shoot-out with the sheriff's men - after it has been a schoolroom, that is, and their homework is finished. Not only are they being kept occupied, but they are getting the exercise needed for their physical development, the school work for their mental development and they are doing all of this in as safe an environment as you can offer them.

Where to Site Your Outdoor Playhouse Generally, anywhere in your garden or backyard will do, but if you site it so that it is line with your own house then your children will take it as an extension of that rather than as a toy. Alternatively, you could ask them where they prefer it be and then you will get no complaints. You normally don't need planning permission or a building permit for a structure of less than 110 sq.ft. but check with your local office to make sure. If a permit is required it won't generally be a problem if you go through the correct channels. Design and Décor of a Small Outdoor Club house It is possible to find a small outdoor clubhouse that is similar in design to your own home, and you can paint it in the same colors. However, that's not often necessary and your children might prefer something unique.

Distinctive playhouses are available with a number of different designs of doors and windows, and although wooden playhouses are generally best, they also come in plastic. A wooden playhouse is easier to maintain and paint, and it is easier to repair wood than broken plastic. However, whatever design or décor you use, your child will love his or her kids playhouse and it will not only give you peace of mind that they are safe when they are playing outside in the yard, but it will also help them to develop as they should - and don't forget the homework situation. With their own premises, they will love it.

#Youtube

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hamofjustice · 1 year ago

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Julinemo Week, Day 3: Study Session

(This could probably be better but this week is an exercise in just posting without being a perfectionist and I wanna go to bed, so)

The late afternoon breeze streaming through Nemona's window kept her room smelling as fresh and alive as a new adventure, as she and her favorite guest did something quite a bit less exciting: reviewing their Battle Studies homework.

Nemona was on her bed, leaving just enough space for her napping Pawmot, while Juliana and her Gardevoir were down on the plush green rug she'd picked out for Nemona the previous week (which Nemona insisted on paying for). The Battle Frontier Channel was on the big TV as familiar background noise, though Gardevoir at least seemed more interested in looking up at that than the open books.

"Uhhh… question nine… 'Which kind of Terrain protects from ailments instead of powering up attacks?'" Juliana read out.

"Oh, um… Misty Terrain! I was just thinking about that one. It might help you remember that one's different 'cause it's not called Fairy Terrain."

"Oh yeah, huh. Good point."

"It's not teeechnically correct to say it's the only one that does that, 'cause, like, Electric Terrain keeps you awake, and Misty Terrain does power up Terrain Pulse and Misty Explosion, but… I think you can safely ignore those since there's no 'none of the above' options… right?"

"Uh… nope, there's not. Wow, Mona… you know more than these books do, huh? Hehehe…"

"Heh. Nah, they're probably just tryin' to keep it simple. I've never used Misty Explosion in my life!"

"Oh. Well, I appreciate trying to keep it simple, 'cause some of these things have so many arbitrary little details to remember…"

"I know, right? I guess it's not like anybody sat down and designed 'em all elegantly like a video game, though." Nemona pointed out, before starting to tap her pencil eraser to her chin and then her temple as she looked up at the ceiling. "I wonder if Misty Explosion might be decent BECAUSE no one expects it…"

"Maybe? Mmm, I dunno…"

"I've actually gotta figure that out soon. When you get into Advanced Battle Studies like me, you'll have to--"

"IF I get into Advan--"

"WHENNN you get in, 'cause you're smart and cool and attr-- attentive, and a Champion like me, and have me helping youuu…" Nemona insisted, briefly pointing her eraser down at Juliana as if it were a threat. Pawmot kept sleeping, fully accustomed to its Trainer's volume. "… You've gotta make theme teams for all these field conditions! It's kinda fun, but… I dunno how good some of these would be. They start ya off easy with Rain, but… hmm…"

"Oh, is that what you're working on up there?"

"Eh, sorta. I've got the Psychic Terrain one for this week figured out ahead of schedule, so I'm getting started on the Misty Terrain one now."

"So you could just… not be doing homework right now, if you wanted?" Juliana prodded.

"I mean… I guess, but then I'd probably just be bored and houndin' you to go out with me. Uh, f-for battles and stuff."

"Mmm. Yeah, probably. Well… thanks for matching my pace, then."

"Always."

"Hehe… "

They both smiled at each other for a bit before getting back to work. Each of them sighed happily and gave their partner Pokemon some petting. But eventually…

"Uh… I'll be right back. Gotta use the bathroom." Juliana quietly announced.

"Mmmkay. Be my guest."

Nemona looked up from the page and gazed off into space as Juliana stepped out, but then…

"Hey, Gardevoir." she whispered.

"Devoira…?" Juliana's companion answered sleepily, turning its head up to Nemona.

"Can you… show me how Juliana feels about me?"

"Garde." the Embrace Pokemon said with a nod. It rolled its neck a bit before scooting a bit closer and reaching out to Nemona with its green hand.

"Ooh, are we gonna do a mind meld? Heh…"

Almost as soon as she took its hand, Nemona's eyes shut and brows shot up like she'd once again misread a teaspoon of Spicy Herba Mystica as a tablespoon. After a few moments, however, she seemed to become accustomed to whatever had been put in front of her mind's eye. Her expression became one of curious awe, then wholesome warmth, then giddy delight as she wiggled her feet happily behind her. She opened her eyes back up as the emotional transmission ended, needing a moment to refocus on reality. "Oh… oh man… th-thanks bud. I, uh… huh…"

"De gara, devoira."

Juliana came back into the room to find Nemona blushing and giggling, and immediately looked down at herself to try and find a reason for it, to no avail.

"Hehehehe… Hey, I think I might be moving down to the floor with you, actually." Nemona decided, picking up her book.

#julinemo #juliana pokemon #nemona pokemon #nemona #julinemoweek #pokemon sv #pokemon scarlet and violet #nemonaposting #hamfiction #julinemoweek2024

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aidanchaser · 2 years ago

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A Bad Dream [Remix]

part of the @mlsquaredance 2023 Buffet Remixes

Remixed from A Bad Dream by walkingonthestars (@hamsternamedmarinette)

beta'd by @wield-the-mighty-pen

Read on Ao3 or below!

Adrien woke suddenly, shirt and sheets clinging to a layer of sweat, and breath coming in short, desperate gasps. His mouth tasted like blood and he couldn't move, not at first.

Slowly, his body caught up with his mind, and he was able to sit up and gather his breath. But the taste in his mouth lingered, and the panic that began in his gut crawled through his chest and up his throat, even as he tried to swallow it down.

He glanced down at his hands where he gripped the bedsheet as tightly as he had gripped Ladybug’s lifeless body in his dream. His silver ring glinted in the moonlight, its destructive power belied by its plain, unassuming band.

Normally, the power of Chat Noir was a comfort, a taste of freedom, but tonight the sight of the ring on his finger turned his stomach into a new set of knots. He yanked the ring off and hurled it into the darkness of his bedroom. He heard it clink against the floor, bounce against the wooden slats, and roll onto the rug somewhere beneath his couch.

Even without the weight of the ring, his panic wouldn’t fade. His heart still pounded like a hummingbird caught in a bramble. He could even feel thorns tearing into his chest.

He reached for his phone, certain that if he called Marinette now, he would feel better. He didn’t have to tell her what he dreamed about; he only had to hear her voice and lose himself in her passion and drive. He would only have to ask her what she was working on, and in thirty minutes, he would feel set right.

But he couldn’t bring himself to call her. His thumb hovered over her image for a moment before he finally at least managed to text her. Nothing demanding, nothing vulnerable. Just a simple, Are you awake?

She probably was. She was probably finishing homework or a design or a costume piece. But the night stretched on, and Marinette did not reply. And Adrien’s panic still pulsed through his veins.

Adrien climbed out of bed and pushed open one of the grand window panes. The cool evening air provided some relief. He leaned against the smooth glass and tried not to think about how many nights he had slipped away in Chat Noir’s guise. He would go out as Chat again sooner or later, but right now it didn't feel safe.

As he leaned against the window and drank in the night with heavy, long breaths, a familiar sound drifted into his room. A rhythmic thwip and spin that he knew too well.

Ladybug was nearby.

He listened to her drop and recall her yo-yo with a rhythm as consistent as his own long, heavy breaths. In and out together, like every inhale of his breath ended in the clutch of her hands. What was she doing? And where was she?

He looked across the grounds of his family’s manor but saw nothing out of place. It certainly sounded like she was above him.

Adrien climbed onto the roof of his house and found Ladybug pacing as she flicked her yo-yo back and forth, catching it perfectly on every recall—until she saw him just as she jerked her wrist back. The yo-yo sailed past her unprepared palm and smacked her in the face.

Ladybug hadn't changed much since the day that Adrien had first put on his miraculous. She’d grown more confident in her abilities and more trusting of others, of course, but he had always seen those strengths in her, even when she hadn't seen them in herself.

He was the one who had changed. He still felt the familiar twinge of longing in his chest when he looked at her, but his heart didn’t sing the way it once had. His world didn’t light up just because she smiled at him. Those feelings were with someone else now.

Someone who didn’t seem interested in answering her phone.

Adrien pulled himself up onto the roof. It wasn’t as easy of a climb without the help of Chat Noir’s power as he might have liked, but he managed it. He couldn’t quite bring himself to stand up, though, opting instead to sit on the narrow stretch of flat roof. He knew that if he did fall, he would not be able to call on Chat’s power to help him. “What are you doing up here, Ladybug?”

“Nothing! I mean—patrolling!” Her voice was a little too high and a little too fast as she manually wound her yo-yo back together. “Just patrolling, you know, normal superhero things! Because that's what I do. As a superhero. Patrol.”

“And did you find anything dangerous on my roof?”

“All safe and sound! So I'll be moving on…” But as she turned, she tipped her head to one side and looked at him properly. It was a look Adrien had always adored, had even fallen in love with once. There was a puzzle turning through her head, and she was determined to make sense of it.

“What are you doing up here?” Ladybug asked, as if it had just occurred to her that maybe climbing up onto the roof in the middle of the night was not normal for most people.

“Nothing,” he said, and leaned back on his hands as he stared up at her. It was so easy to remember why he had fallen in love with her when he saw her in the moonlight like this. The worry that creased her brow was so familiar. She’d done nothing but look worried these last few months, and that worry had not eased, not even since Hawk Moth’s defeat. It couldn’t, not with the butterfly miraculous still missing.

His own heart shuddered at the thought, but he tried to keep a small smile on his face. “You really don't have to worry about me, Ladybug. But I appreciate you coming out to check on me.”

She stammered on an excuse, but she couldn’t seem to find the words to deny that was why she had really come.

The last time they had talked, she had told him how his father had died fighting Hawk Moth, and she’d given him his parents’ wedding bands. She hadn’t offered him any details, other than to tell him that his father wanted Adrien to remember the best of him. That small wish belied a mountain of complexity that Adrien wasn't quite ready to dig through.

He’d tried to press her for details as Chat Noir, but she’d been tight-lipped, even with her partner.

When Ladybug gave up floundering for an excuse, she sighed and dropped to her knees beside him. “You really are alright, though?” The way her brow furrowed beneath her mask reminded him of the girl who had stood on top of the stadium and panicked her way through their very first fight. It reminded him of Marinette working through a difficult project.

Adrien ran his hand through his hair and looked away. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, though fine was probably not the best word to describe the complexity of his feelings. When she didn't say anything else, he felt compelled to fill the silence. “I just had a bad dream. Needed some fresh air. But I already feel safer, knowing you're right here,” he added hastily, though it was a half-truth at best.

Seeing her alive and breathing was a relief, but the knowledge that he could still hurt her pricked against his skin like a bed of needles.

She reached for his hand, something soft and sad blooming in her eyes. Adrien resisted the urge to pull away.

“Nightormenter was hard on all of us,” she said. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more to stop him sooner—”

“I keep having it.” His heart stuttered as her fingers brushed the space where his ring should have been. “I keep dreaming that I’ve been akumatized. That… I hurt you.”

Her fingers inspected the pale strip of skin left behind by Chat Noir’s band, but her eyes remained focused on him. “I won’t let that happen.”

“In my dream, the world is destroyed. And the moon is split in two from whatever power Hawk Moth gave to me—”

Her breath hitched in her throat and she squeezed his hand. “I—” she bit down on her lower lip and looked at their hands laced together. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and guarded. “Sometimes, I dream that there’s an akuma to end the world, too.”

“And what do you do in those dreams?”

“I fight—well, I run. And I try to save him.”

“Him?”

“My… partner.”

“You dream about Chat Noir getting akumatized? What happens?”

“Well, the world ends—but you don’t have to worry. Hawk Moth is gone now.” Her hand drifted up to his face and his heart stuttered in his chest in an entirely new way. She brushed his cheek and said, “I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”

But he was more concerned about her. “Ladybug, when the world ends in my dream, you’re dead in my arms.”

She leaned in closer. An earlier version of Adrien might have leaned in, too.

“No one’s going to akumatize you,” she whispered.

“I think part of why it’s so terrifying is that I… I’ve never been akumatized before.”

But instead of reassuring him again, something in her eyes flickered, like panic, and she pulled away. She squeezed his hand once before letting go.

“I promise that I’ll protect you, Adrien.”

As Ladybug got to her feet, Adrien’s heart pounded in his chest. “Wait—”

He stood and reached for her. His hand closed around her wrist even as his feet slipped against the slick roof tiles. He used her firm weight to keep his balance. “Ladybug, what aren’t you telling me? What was your dream about?”

But she refused to turn and look at him. He had only the tight coil in her shoulders to tell him that she was keeping something from him.

“I dreamed that my partner knew my name.” Her voice was so soft, Adrien had to strain to hear it. “And somehow that knowledge led him to become akumatized, and he destroyed the world. And he destroyed me. But it was just a bad dream.” Despite her attempt to soften the terror of her words, she sounded on the brink of tears. “There’s no more Hawk Moth,” she continued, “and I’m going to recover the butterfly and make sure that there are no more akumas. And everything’s going to be okay, Adrien. I promise that everything’s going to be okay.”

She tried to pull away, but Adrien was afraid to let her go. He wanted to ensure that everything was going to be okay, too, and he could do that as long as she was here at his side, and as long as he wasn’t wearing his ring.

He struggled to find breath for his words, but in the barest whisper, he managed, “And how do you trust your partner after a dream like that?” He wanted to know how he was supposed to trust himself.

She hesitated, and Adrien saw suddenly just how strongly mistrust still lived in that tight space between her shoulders. She didn’t trust Chat Noir, and it was no wonder she had grown distant even before she had taken on the responsibility of being the Guardian.

“We keep our identities secret from each other,” she said, “and for good reason. We trust each other because we have to. I don’t blame him for Hawk Moth taking advantage of him—” She hesitated, then amended: “I don’t blame him for a dream I had where Hawk Moth took advantage of him. You shouldn’t blame yourself for a bad dream, either.”

Adrien swallowed hard. He wanted to trust her words, to trust her promises. But it was so hard when there were still secrets between them. He couldn’t blame her for keeping parts of herself from him, though, especially not when he now had a glimpse of why she was so adamant about keeping her secrets.

“Good night, Adrien,” she said, and pulled her hand away.

His feet slipped out from under him and he fell. Before he even had a moment to panic, before he even quite registered that he was falling from his own roof, Ladybug’s yo-yo was around his waist. But she didn’t pull him back up. She lowered him down to his own window, and once he was safely inside, he heard the thwip of her line being tossed then a zip that faded out into the night.

She’d protected him. She’d promised that she would always protect him. He had to trust that somehow, she’d protect him from being akumatized, too.

He used his phone’s light to find his ring under his couch and slid it back onto his finger as he collapsed into bed. Sleep, though, was a distant thought. His mind turned his conversation with Ladybug over in his head, like a music box wound to its tightest coil. Did it matter that they had both had the same dream? Why had she been so upset when he’d mentioned that he had never been akumatized before?

His phone buzzed in his hand and Adrien answered it without thinking, only to be pleasantly surprised when Marinette’s face filled his screen.

“Hi,” he smiled.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t see your text,” she said. “I’m definitely awake! I mean, obviously I’m awake. And you’re awake! I mean, of course you are, because you texted me! Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, and at least in that moment, at least as he looked at Marinette, it was true. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just had a bad dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I think I just want to forget about it. Tell me why you’re up so late.”

Eagerly, Marinette launched into a story about her design for a new fashion contest that Tsurugi was putting together to help rebrand Gabriel. She went over her drafts, the lines, the colors, the textures. Adrien could have fallen asleep listening to her talk, like her monologue was his own personalized lullaby. And maybe, if it had just been a phone call, he would have. But the way her eyes lit up when she talked made his world too bright for sleep. He was content to watch and listen. At least for now, Marinette was protection enough. He was never going to be akumatized as long as he had her.

#miraculous square dance 2023 #ml square dance #ladrien #ml fic remix #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fic #ml

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aishangotome · 5 months ago

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Main Story S2 Chapter 2-13: Whenever I'm Lost (每當徬徨時) | Light and Night 光與夜之戀

S2 Chapter 2-12

♡———♡

You: This variety show is insanely popular... Four or five hundred million views per episode???

The show Jesse wanted me to participate in was a breakout escape room variety show.

Each episode featured a meticulously designed escape room with celebrity guests trying to solve puzzles and escape. Thanks to its high production quality, intricate puzzles, and the popularity of the guests, it had become an instant hit online.

And the theme for the next episode was Chinese culture, perfectly aligned with the Time Travel series. This meant I could participate in the recording as a costume consultant and sneak in a bit of promotion for the collection.

To avoid embarrassing myself on the show, I had been doing my homework on the program in my spare time.

I even consulted Mao Ge, who was a devoted fan of the show. He was ecstatic to hear I was going to be on it and excitedly shared a lot of information about the program.

Not only that, but I also received the guest profiles in advance. After researching their usual fashion styles and considering the demands of filming, I tailored five complete outfits based on their measurements and individual preferences.

You: But I can't just bring clothes, I need to bring some gifts too.

The gifts for the guests were hand-embroidered sachets.

Also, considering the large number of fans and staff present at the recording, I decided to bring the fans and brochures I had mentioned earlier as souvenirs.

To make a good impression, I wrapped the existing packaging boxes with ribbons for a more polished look.

The packaging was a massive undertaking, and I enlisted the help of the interns. But with everyone already busy, even after two days of work, we still weren't finished.

With no other choice, and the pre-recording scheduled for the next day, I had to work late into the night after getting home, practically pulling an all-nighter.

So, when the alarm went off the next morning, I had only gotten two hours of sleep.

Feeling invigorated after washing up, putting on makeup, and packing everything, I grabbed my suitcase and headed out the door.

Just as I took out my phone to call a taxi, a car horn honked twice nearby. The window rolled down, and an orange-haired head popped out.

Jesse: Costume consultant, over here!

I hurried over, and Jesse got out of the car, taking my suitcase and putting it in the trunk.

You: What are you doing here? I could have just called a taxi.

Jesse: The first time I filmed a show, I was so nervous that I couldn't sleep all night, then I almost overslept in the morning.

Jesse: I was worried you might be the same, so I came to wake you up.

He got in the car and leaned closer, studying my face.

Jesse: I'm pretty good at guessing what you've been up to, aren't I?

You: Are my dark circles that obvious?

Hearing him say that, I started to panic. Pristine's head designer couldn't appear haggard and exhausted.

You: What if they get caught on camera? Will they be noticeable?

You: I've been so busy lately, I just collapse into bed the moment I get home. I haven't even bothered with skincare.

Jesse: I actually think you look kind of cool and elegant right now, in a gothic sort of way.

I playfully punched him, and Jesse, instead of dodging, leaned closer, a smile on his face as he pleaded for mercy.

You: Do you think I can't tell when you're making fun of me? >:(

Jesse: I'm sorry, I'm sorry. They're not obvious. You'll be fine.

Jesse: Here, have this breakfast. Does this make up for it?

You: I guess so. We'll see how you behave.

I took the breakfast, and Jesse, as if performing a magic trick, pulled out a script from his bag and handed it to me.

Jesse: How about another helpful service to ensure your forgiveness?

His antics calmed my nerves, and I finally laughed. Reassured, Jesse turned back to the front and told the driver to start the car.

I looked down at the script in my hand. He had highlighted all the parts I was involved in with colorful markers.

And beside those highlighted sections, he had meticulously written down potential issues that might arise and how to handle them.

He had also underlined parts where the camera would be on me, providing opportunities for promotion and showcasing the designs.

As I ate my breakfast and looked through the script, which was practically a guide to filming the variety show, a warmth spread through me.

We soon arrived at the parking lot of the filming location. Da Liang, the manager, was already waiting there. Seeing our car pull up, he walked over and knocked on Jesse's window.

Da Liang: Jesse, there are reporters waiting outside. Remember to maintain your image.

Jesse: Is there something wrong with my image today?

The manager gave him an exasperated look, seemingly glancing at me.

Da Liang: You know what I mean. Can you take your eyes off her for a few seconds?

Jesse: She's the costume consultant I hired. No one can say anything about it.

Jesse seemed eager for everyone to see us together, but considering the nature of his profession, I shook my head.

You: I think I'll wait in the car for a bit. I'll head out separately after you're gone.

Jesse: No way.

You: Tangyuan.

Hearing the seriousness in my voice, Jesse looked at me with a pout.

You: It's better to avoid unnecessary trouble. If any rumors start spreading, it could affect your career.

Jesse: I'm not afraid of trouble.

You: It could also affect Pristine's image, right?

This argument seemed more convincing. He reluctantly got out, but not before grabbing my suitcase.

The manager hurried after him and tried to take the suitcase, but Jesse refused, keeping a firm grip on the handle.

As he walked away, he kept looking back at me.

After waiting for ten minutes, assuming he had already entered the filming location, I used my staff pass to enter the backstage area and found my suitcase waiting for me in the costume room.

I opened the suitcase and hung up the clothes I had brought. Soon, footsteps approached, and the six guests, along with a filming crew of more than ten people, filed in.

The staff quickly set up the cameras and lighting equipment. With the addition of various handheld and stationary cameras, it was quite an impressive setup.

I hadn't expected the pre-recording to be such a big deal, but facing so many cameras, I started to feel nervous.

Instinctively, I searched the crowd for a familiar face. I quickly spotted Jesse, surrounded by a group of people, but he winked at me.

He had makeup on, which made him look even more dazzling, but his smile was as reassuring as ever.

I saw him mouth something and gesture with his chin, urging me to come over.

I quickly gathered the ironed clothes and walked towards him.

You: Hello everyone, I'm the costume consultant for this episode, and also the head designer for the Pristine brand, Y/N.

You: These are the outfits we've prepared for you. I hope you like them.

As I spoke, I handed the clothes to the stylists assigned to each guest.

They all accepted the clothes with smiles, examined them for a moment, and then began showering me with compliments.

I seized the opportunity to give them a brief introduction to Pristine's upcoming new collection.

Perhaps the production team had given them a heads-up, because everyone was very polite. I didn't encounter any of the difficulties Mao Ge had warned me about.

Relieved, I chatted with them for a bit longer, then went to organize the accessories.

Jesse, who had already changed into his outfit, was standing nearby, his stylist making adjustments.

You: Let me help with that. This button is a bit tricky.

I walked over and fastened the button for him, then smoothed out his collar, sleeves, belt, and other details.

He stood obediently, letting me adjust his clothes as I pleased.

Just then, a male actor, surnamed Li, approached us.

Male Actor: These clothes are great! I thought production would just rent costumes, which are usually dirty and worn out.

Male Actor: I heard the show hired a professional designer as a consultant. You designed these outfits, right?

I nodded politely while continuing to adjust Jesse's clothes.

You: Yes, I designed them. I'm glad you like them, Mr. Li.

You: If any of you have any issues with your costumes, please don't hesitate to ask me.

After sorting out Jesse's outfit, I started going around, checking on everyone and visiting the dressing rooms.

While helping them with their costumes, I also took the opportunity to ask for their feedback.

Their unanimous praise put me in a good mood.

Just then, the actor, Mr. Li, stopped me again.

Male Actor: Miss Consultant, how do I fasten this jacket?

You: There's a hidden clasp here. Once it's fastened, it won't come undone easily.

I put down the things I was holding and helped him with the clasp.

Male Actor: Miss Consultant, would you mind giving my manager your contact information? I'll have him reach out if we need anything in the future.

You: Of course. Wan Zhen often collaborates with various performances and award ceremonies.

Attaching decorations here, fastening buttons there... After a busy round of adjustments, I felt like I was backstage at a fashion show.

Turning around, I noticed that the only person who hadn't asked for my help was standing right beside me.

I had been the first to fix his outfit, so how had his collar become crooked again?

He was glaring at the actor, Mr. Li, with obvious hostility. Then, his eyes met mine, and he deliberately looked away.

I couldn't help but smile and walked over to him.

You: Jesse, your collar is crooked.

I reached out to fix it, and Jesse stiffened, his eyes darting down to me.

Jesse: Oh, is it? Could you please fix it for me, Miss Consultant? I'm afraid I'll mess it up.

He said it so formally, and I suppressed a laugh, lowering my voice.

You: Didn't I just fix it for you? How did it get messed up again?

Jesse: Maybe someone bumped into me.

It clearly looked like he had unbuttoned it on purpose. I chuckled inwardly, but carefully re-fastened it for him.

You: There. All done.

Jesse: Is it fastened properly? Could you check it again? They'll be doing close-ups later.

He looked at me, and I looked back at him. His eyes could never hide anything from me. I knew he was annoyed that I had been fixing the other male guests' clothes.

You: To me, everyone is like a model. It's normal for a designer to help models with their outfits.

Jesse: Everyone?

You: Yes, everyone. Except you.

Jesse seemed a bit happier, but then he quickly realized something else.

Jesse: Have you helped a lot of models with their clothes?

You: Of course. Sometimes they don't even wear any clothes.

His expression immediately soured.

You: Just kidding!

Jesse: I'll be your exclusive model from now on.

You: You're a big star, don't be ridiculous.

You: Alright, it's all good now.

After organizing the clothes and with the guests ready to start filming, I was about to step aside when Jesse gently tugged on my sleeve and whispered:

Jesse: Once the show starts, make sure you look at me a lot. I'll put on a good performance.

Although, as a costume consultant, I was supposed to observe everyone, Jesse was right. In a crowd, it was always easy for me to focus solely on him.

Filming soon commenced. The guests entered the escape room set, and I stood among the camera crew behind the scenes, observing their every move.

As expected of actors who were used to being in front of the camera, the clothes seemed to come alive on them, taking on an added charm and vibrancy compared to when they were on the models. It was a delightful sight.

Reassured by how well the costumes looked, I turned my attention to the show itself.

Although this escape room show was a variety program, the puzzles were complex and challenging, truly testing the guests' abilities.

For the most part, Jesse and another host were the ones driving the puzzle-solving and deductions.

Especially now, with most of the clues gathered, they had reached a difficult point in their deductions.

The atmosphere on set gradually grew tense.

Just then, Jesse picked up a photo of one of the clues.

Jesse: I think this clue is quite important. There's a music score beside the victim, and it's almost entirely in the Shang mode.

Jesse: Shang mode music has been believed since ancient times to benefit the lungs and regulate Qi. The victim playing this music suggests they might have had a lung injury.

Jesse: This seems to be similar to the backstory of Number Three, the "Grand Preceptor."

Male Actor: Wow, I thought Jesse was just the good-looking one, but it turns out he's the brains of the operation too.

Jesse: Not at all. It's all thanks to you all for giving me the opportunity.

Jesse: The director told me this episode was short on singers. If the rest of you started singing, it might hurt the ratings.

Jesse's playful remark made everyone laugh, and the tense atmosphere dissipated, replaced by a sense of amusement.

Another actor chimed in jokingly.

Actor A: So the director is playing favorites! Don't listen to her, little brother Xia. Give us some pointers so we can sing too.

Actor A: We don't just need a costume consultant, we need a part-time singing coach as well.

Jesse: No problem. Although I'm not as professional as the costume consultant, I can still manage.

Everyone laughed again and, following Jesse's lead, started praising the costumes they were wearing.

After this lighthearted interlude, the guests resumed their investigation with renewed energy.

Seeing that everything was progressing smoothly, I excused myself to the executive director and stepped out for a bit.

I quietly slipped out of the filming location and picked up the promotional gift bags I had prepared for the staff, reporters, and fans gathered outside.

You: Thank you for your hard work. Pristine provided the costumes for this episode, and we've prepared some souvenirs for everyone.

You: Please take one if you'd like.

Cameraman: As expected of a major brand, not only are the clothes beautiful, but the souvenirs are too.

Cameraman: What's the price range for this collection? If it's not too expensive, I'd like to buy a piece for my daughter. She's been wanting this kind of clothing.

You: We're an affordable line, the pricing is different from Wan Zhen's main brand. You can choose without worrying.

Most of the staff were very receptive, except for one lighting technician who ignored me. Perhaps he was busy, so I just left the souvenir to the side.

Next, I approached the group of fans outside the filming location.

You: Hello everyone, thank you for coming to watch the recording. I have some small gifts for you.

Fans: Pristine? Is that the brand Jesse is wearing?

You: Yes, you can find the specific styles in the brochure.

Hearing that it was the same brand Jesse was wearing, the fans became enthusiastic, all wanting a souvenir.

But I hadn't anticipated such a large crowd. After covering only a small area, I had already run out of gifts.

Another enthusiastic fan asked for one, and I could only spread my hands apologetically.

You: Sorry, I...

Before I could finish, a wave of screams suddenly erupted from the crowd.

???: No worries, I have plenty more here.

Jesse had appeared without me noticing, holding a bag filled with small gift boxes. He walked into the crowd, handing out the boxes.

Inside each box was the same customized fan I had been distributing, and there was a QR code on the box. A fan scanned it, and an H5 page introducing Pristine's new collection popped up on their phone.

Surprised, I looked at Jesse, who took the opportunity to walk over to me while handing out gifts.

Jesse: I swiped one of your brochures when I helped you carry the clothes that day.

Jesse: I just adapted the content a little.

Seeing me gesture towards the souvenirs in his hand, he rubbed his head sheepishly and smiled.

Jesse: I figured a lot of people would come to the recording, so it would be a good promotional opportunity.

Before I could react, he thrust another bag of souvenirs into my hand.

Jesse: No slacking off for the head designer! Get to work. We still have to go back and film the Q&A session later.

With that, he returned to the crowd and continued distributing the gifts.

I took the bag he had given me and joined another group of fans, handing out souvenirs.

Jesse's H5 page was incredibly effective. People started asking me about Pristine's new collection after seeing the information on it.

Soon, everyone had received a gift, and they were all excitedly discussing the content on the promotional page.

But amidst all the commotion, no one noticed a man with his cap pulled low, blending in with the crowd and quietly slipping into the filming location.

Before disappearing into the darkness, he gave Jesse a lingering look.

The executive director soon emerged to inform us that the break was over, and Jesse and I returned to the set.

Host: Welcome, guests, to the recording studio! Let's embark on our "Time Travel" journey today!

The host then directed the first question to Jesse.

Host: Jesse, how does it feel to be on a variety show for the first time?

Jesse thought for a moment.

Jesse: Every part of the show has been really interesting, and everyone has been very welcoming. During the murderer voting, almost no one suspected me.

Actor: Who could suspect Jesse? He looks so innocent. Even if we did suspect him, we couldn't bear to vote against him.

Jesse smiled and gave the actor a playful bow, a gesture that fit his ancient hero character in the show.

Jesse: Also, I especially love today's theme and costumes. They fulfilled a childhood dream I had from watching historical dramas.

He casually gestured towards his outfit, and I instantly understood his intention, pulling out my script to review my lines.

The other guests followed his lead, praising and showcasing their own costumes.

Host: It seems like everyone is happy with their outfits! Our costume consultant is actually here today. Perhaps they could come and give us an introduction?

I had watched previous episodes, and there was no such segment. Jesse must have specially arranged this for me. It was a precious opportunity.

When the camera turned to face me, I felt a surge of nervousness.

Thankfully, I had rehearsed my lines with him beforehand. I stepped forward and, facing the camera, naturally delivered my prepared introduction.

You: Hello everyone. The outfits you see here were all specially designed by us for each character.

You: These costumes are made with a unique fabric called Huanhuo cloth.

You: It originated in China, with a special weaving method and a long history. It's truly one-of-a-kind in the world of fabrics.

You: Although its techniques were once nearly lost, they have been revived.

You: This fabric is lightweight, breathable, and perfect for everyday wear...

My delivery became smoother, and without me noticing, Jesse had moved to stand beside me, giving me a thumbs-up off-camera.

Host: Wow, that sounds amazing!

You: Thank you for your kind words. I've also prepared gifts for everyone.

You: They're sachets made with Huanhuo cloth, each embroidered with a different pattern.

You: Because of the properties of Huanhuo cloth, the fragrance of the spices can diffuse more effectively. I specifically chose lavender for its calming and stress-relieving properties.

You: I hope you all like them.

As soon as I finished speaking, the staff brought out the gift bags I had prepared.

I went to each guest, handing them a bag and shaking their hands politely.

Soon, it was Jesse's turn.

Following the protocol, I handed him the bag, and he accepted it with a wink.

You: Jesse, this is for you. I hope you like it.

Jesse: I love it.

I smiled and reached out to shake his hand, but he pulled me into a hug instead.

The bright studio lights reminded us that we were in the middle of filming, but Jesse deliberately prolonged the embrace.

Feeling more and more eyes on us, I anxiously poked him in the side.

Jesse: Five more seconds. >:)

He finally released me, a smug look on his face. But when he turned to face the camera, his expression became polite and composed.

The audience was silent for a moment, then burst into applause, led by the host.

Host: Thank you, Miss Consultant, for the lovely gifts. Now, let's get back to our previous topic.

Host: Jesse, your manager mentioned that you're currently working on a secret project.

Jesse: Ah, you even know about that?

Jesse feigned surprise, then laughed.

Jesse: Actually, I'm currently working on a new album. I'll even be performing a new song on the show.

Host: Oh, we'll definitely look forward to that!

Host: Our viewers actually have another question for you.

Host: Jesse, which of the songs of yours is your favorite?

Jesse pondered for a moment.

Then he said a name from a distant past.

Jesse: "Portrait of a Youth."

Host: That title sounds unfamiliar. Is it a new song?

Jesse's expression softened.

Jesse: It hasn't been released. It's a song dedicated to a special someone.

The host seemed taken aback. This clearly wasn't in the script. But he quickly recovered and continued with a smile.

Host: That must be a very special person.

Jesse: Mhm, very special.

Jesse: I guess... because of her, I wanted to grow up quickly.

The first half of filming finally wrapped up. I gathered my things from the costume room and returned to the car, where Jesse was already waiting.

He was looking down at the script, preparing for the second half of filming, but when he noticed me, he looked up with a smile.

I didn't say anything, just settled into my seat and picked up the script as well.

He leaned closer and poked my cheek.

Jesse: Why is your face so red? Is it too hot?

You: Were you doing that on purpose?! >:(

Jesse: Doing what on purpose? Your face really is red. >:)

You: Don't play dumb. And saying all those things on stage! >:(

You: You're getting bold, teasing your older sister like that. I'll hit you if you do it again!

Jesse: Go ahead and hit me then.

He said it so matter-of-factly, his tone almost expectant. Our eyes met.

Jesse: But I'll still speak my mind.

My face flushed. I raised my hand, but couldn't bring myself to actually hit him. Instead, I nudged him with my elbow. He seized the opportunity and grabbed my arm.

Jesse: Okay, you got your hit in, now it's my turn.

Jesse: I noticed that the souvenir you prepared for me is exactly the same as everyone else's.

You: Well, you're all guests on the show...

Before I could finish, he started tickling me.

I dodged and weaseled, but he was relentless. I went on the offensive, trying to tickle him back, but I was no match for his strength. Soon, I was pinned down on the seat, half-lying down.

You: I surrender, I surrender! You're just taking advantage of your youthful strength.

Jesse laughed and pulled me upright.

Jesse: What are you talking about? You're only two years older than me.

He seemed eager to downplay the age gap. I reached into my bag and pulled out a cake box.

I had made this last night after finishing the fan packaging. It was decorated with white cream and orange flowers, with "Congratulations to Jesse" written in orange frosting.

Jesse was taken aback when he saw the cake.

You: Here you go. This one's different, right? To celebrate your first time on a variety show in China.

You: I used all low-fat, low-calorie ingredients, but if you're still watching your diet...

Jesse finally recovered. He leaned in slightly and carefully untied the ribbon, removing the plastic cover from the cake. He gazed at it for a long moment, then looked up at me, his eyes shining.

Jesse: As long as it's made by you, I can eat it even if it's loaded with calories.

His voice was soft, and his eyes sparkled like stars. My heart melted.

You: Want to share it with me?

He picked up the plastic knife and carefully cut into the cake, a hint of reluctance in his movements.

Jesse: Y/N, I don't think I've been this happy in a long time. I—

He abruptly stopped, his voice trailing off. He seemed to have so much to say, but precisely because there was so much, he couldn't put it into words.

Those eyes, seemingly filled with unspoken words, gazed deeply into mine.

Jesse: It feels like every day since we reunited, my life has gotten a little bit better.

Looking at Jesse, I suddenly thought of how I had seen him earlier on set—the deafening screams of the fans, the way he was surrounded by the crowd, as if he was born to shine.

But before reaching this point, Jesse had endured so much pain and sadness alone, things I knew nothing about.

I had never asked him in detail about his experiences abroad because I knew a part of him was trapped in those late nights, and while I could offer comfort, ultimately, he needed to find his own way out.

But I also knew that the tears and struggles of those nights, while trapping him, had also cruelly forced him to grow.

He was no longer the little Tangyuan who needed my protection. He could stand on his own now and even help me in ways I knew and didn't know.

Thinking of this, a bittersweet feeling tugged at my heart.

After a moment, I smiled and, scooping up some frosting, smeared it on Jesse's face. He froze for a second, then retaliated.

As we playfully fought, it was like we were carefree children again.

You: Silly Tangyuan, it's the other way around.

You: My life has gotten better since you came back to me.

Jesse didn't reply, but reached out with his clean hand and gently caressed my cheek.

In the near stillness, we gazed at each other silently.

It felt like a thousand words were exchanged in that shared gaze.

Season 2: Chapter 2-15

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