#fun fact this is a redraw of a piece i did two years ago | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

boymeetsweevil · 4 years

Text

in your court

Grouping: Reader x B-ball player!Jaehyun (feat. BFF!Hyuck)

Word Count: ~10.8k

Warnings/Themes: Two idiots in love, oc is scary when mad, hyuck is crafty always, jae is a bit intense but he’s just trying his best, gratuitous descriptions of dimples, a kiss!!! sfw!

Prompt: “awkward!oc with his basketball teammate jaehyun. Honestly anything with bff!haechan.”

“Make sure you don’t make it look shaky.”

Donghyuck puts the phone camera close to his face so he can better see your handiwork through the video call. He looks a bit like a fish, but you can’t see him because you’re focused on the mirror in front of you.

“Remind me why I’m being forced to do this?”

“Because I’m your best friend and I deserve a sign just as much as Jisung and Johnny.”

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes so you don’t mess up the number 14 you’re drawing carefully onto your cheek in eyeliner. Although you hate to see good makeup go to waste, you’re trying to be a better friend while also trying not to accidentally write the number backwards. It’s Donghyuck’s new number this season and he begged you to show some team spirit despite the fact that you normally mix with sports the same way oil mixes with water. The last time you showed up at practice was the first day of the season and you fell from the third courtside bleacher after Donghyuck called you over to introduce you to a cute new walk-on team member. If anything, just being around sports is dangerous for you.

A minute later, you sneeze while holding the pencil and draw a huge line straight through all your hard work. Donghyuck literally screams and you hang up the call to focus. When you finally finish redrawing on the side of your face, there’s half an hour left before the first home game of the spring season starts. You grab the matching construction paper sign you made earlier, complete with a huge gold glitter 14, and head out the door. Taeyong is supposed to pick you up so you can make it to the gym on time. He’s the only other friend you have who is remotely associated with sports and that’s only because he’s dating one of the players, Doyoung.

The ticket Donghyuck gave you days ago places you near the court’s side with a near-perfect view. You settle in and wait for the game to begin. The team is already out on half of the court, doing some light warmup tosses and making the occasional mean eye at the visiting team practicing on the other half. You catch your best friend’s eye and he lights up when he sees the sign and eyeliner drawing.

“Check me out, Hyuck!”

You turn to give him a full view of your profile, subtly proud of your skills.

“Look at you,” he drawls as he jogs over to you, “You know, I think this is the best your eyeliner has ever looked.”

“God, you’re so annoying.”

You try your best to cast an elbow at him without disturbing the still slightly wet glitter on the sign. When you nearly take out the old man sitting directly in front of you, you settle for flipping him off.

“Wait,” Taeyong peers at the sign, “Aren’t you—”

“I think Doyoung said he was looking for you. Something about wanting a good luck kiss.”

Taeyong narrows his eyes but still stands up to go look for said boyfriend. Doyoung’s not the nervous type, but he’s also not the type to say no to some pre-game affection. You watch Taeyong disappear towards the locker room while Donghyuck steps over some of the fans already seated and takes the now open spot next to you.

“Hey,” he says with no trace of humor in his voice any longer. “Promise you’ll still be my friend after this game?”

You place the sign on your lap and turn to look at your friend. Lately the coach has been pushing him harder and you suppose it’s starting to wear down his usual confidence. With the hand that’s not covered in little golden glitter flecks, you reach down to rub his shoulder.

“Of course I will, Hyuck. And even if you guys don’t win tonight, I’m still taking you to get food after. My treat.”

It was supposed to be a rare moment of sincere friendliness. But this seems to distress him further because he looks down at your hand on his arm and then groans before covering his face in his hands. You’re confused but you don’t have any time to ask him what’s up. A few of his teammates walk over then.

“Sorry to break up the love fest, but Coach wants us to do some stretches before the whistle,” team captain Johnny says, gesturing to the other side of the gym where some other players are already contorting themselves.

Behind Johnny stands that new walk-on. The one you fell on your face in front of. He takes in your temporary face tattoo and overly detailed sign and smirks, allowing a dimple to wink at you. You can only hope to every deity in the universe that he doesn’t remember the way you first met.

“Hey,” he smiles good-naturedly. “Glad to see you made it here in one piece.”

“Thank you,” you say with way too much sincerity.

It’s enough to knock Donghyuck out of his bad mood and make him snort loudly beside you. The new guy smiles a bit wider, revealing a twin dimple. You look away.

“Don’t get too friendly, Jung,” Donghyuck says with fake menace in his voice. “There’s only room for one Dream Team member in her life, and that’s me.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you guys were—”

“We’re just friends,” you blurt out before looking down at the fascinating liver spots on the old man’s head in front of you.

“Yeah, she wishes.”

“I definitely don’t,” you snap.

He sticks his tongue out at you. “Well, I’m glad you don’t.”

“Guys, come on!” Johnny calls a moment before the coach’s whistle blows to give a final warning.

As they walk over to the side of the gym you curse yourself for acting so weird in front of that Jung kid. If he didn’t think you were a dope when you tripped over nothing the first time you met, you’re certain he thinks you have the charms of a 13 year-old boy by now. The only thing that snaps you out of it is the fact that Donghyuck is in a time of distress and clearly needs his friend.

With squared shoulders and a new sense of duty, you try your hardest to be the world’s best cheerleader. You’re not really sure how sports work, basketball included. The game itself turns out to be really fun. Even though you’re not quite sure what’s happening. Taeyong sends you a text with a picture of your own mildly confused face contorted into a pout as you raise your handmade sign a moment too late, after everyone has already sat back down. But eventually you figure it out after enough times of standing when people around you wearing school colors stand up first. You know enough to cheer every time Donghyuck takes the ball to the basket and boo loudly every time he gets knocked down or his shot misses. In fact, you get so into it that you catch yourself cheering for other players. You even make the mistake of cheering once for new kid Jung but immediately stop when he catches a glimpse of you in the stands and shoots you a beaming smile.

They win by a small margin, thanks to a 3 pointer Johnny shot in the first half of the game. By the time that happens, you feel like you have a good feel for the game. You don’t have to wait for the other fans from your school to stand up when the last buzzer rings, and you instinctively run out onto the court with the rest of them as the final score settles. There’s adrenaline and joy pushing you into Donghyuck’s arms. He’s genuinely surprised but welcomes the greeting, spinning you lightly while he laughs.

“Congrats on the first win of the season,” you shout when you finally pull back. He lets you squish his cheeks in excitement. Doyoung ambles over then, looking for Taeyong. You offer him congratulations as well.

“Thanks,” he smirks a bit as he takes in your large sign and the slightly smudged 14 on your cheek. “Shouldn’t Jaehyun be the first to hear it, though?”

You raise a confused brow.

“Shouldn’t I be the first to hear what?”

You can’t help the way you stumble back against Donghyuck at the deep sound of Jung—no— Jaehyun’s voice. He looks pleased. Probably with the outcome of their first game.

“I was just saying you should get the first ‘congrats’,” Doyoung explains, nodding in your direction. Jaehyun blinks, but takes it in stride.

“I’d be glad to receive it,” he says with a grin. His dimples pop out even more than usual under the sheen of sweat and the glow from the fluorescents. “So, what’d you think? How’d I do?”

You have no idea why but your heart is beating like it’ll fly out of your chest. It takes everything in you to muster up a cool and natural response.

“You throw good.”

Donghyuck, the traitor that he is, gets sent into a cackling fit. If you listen carefully, between the gasps for air and the hyena-pitched giggles you can hear him calling you a dork. You’d turn to yell at him, but he’s right. Doyoung barely covers up his own laughter while leaning on Donghyuck’s shoulder to try to disguise the sound as a series of coughs. But Jaehyun merely smiles down at his shoes as if he’s somehow moved by your clunky words.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“No, I feel like I did well today thanks to your little sign.”

“The sign? Oh. Actually, this is for—”

In that moment you realize two things. The first is that Jaehyun’s jersey has a big 14 emblazoned on the front of it. Just like the one you spent 10 whole minutes drawing onto your right cheek. And the one you spent 2 hours glittering the night before. The second is that you aren’t nearly as observant as you thought you were. Then you realize a third thing: Donghyuck is slowly creeping away from you as it all clicks together in your head.

When you turn to face your friend, the color has already drained out of his neck. He can see the wheels turning in your head and he raises his hands in a placating gesture, but you cut him off before he can even start. Grabbing at his jersey you make him turn around until you can see the white number 6 emblazoned on the fabric. It’s the same number he had last season, and the season before that.

“Just to clarify,” you begin with an unsettlingly calm voice, “When you asked me earlier if I would still be your friend after the game, you were talking about this, right?”

Donghyuck’s eyes go wide and dart around anywhere but your face. “You know what? I think you’re thinking of my brother, Hyongduck. We look a lot alike, so it’s an honest mistake.”

The coach calling him over in that moment is the only thing that keeps you from eviscerating him on the court with so many witnesses. You let him go, but not without him having to un-pry your fingers from his jersey. Jaehyun watches on with amusement in his eyes and you remember that he saw you nearly Hulk out on your friend.

“So, you actually didn’t know my number was 14?”

You shake your head, “I thought it was Hyuck’s.”

“I see.”

He tilts his head again, with eyes narrowed he looks you over before looking past you to where Donghyuck has finally made it to locker room safety.

“Well,” he fiddles with the chain around his neck, “I’m kind of sad the sign isn’t actually mine.”

“Oh. I mean, you can keep it if you want.”

Jaehyun’s head ducks down a second time, shaking his head at the ground like he heard something funny that you couldn’t hear. He does take the sign out of your hands though. With slow hands, he wraps the construction paper up until all the remaining glitter is safely tucked away.

“What about that one?”

“What do you mean?”

He points at his own cheek to mirror yours. You had forgotten all about the 14 you drew on your face to go with the sign.

“I don’t—I don’t know if you can wrap this one up, you know” you laugh stiltedly.

“Yeah. But I could always take a bit for the road. May I?”

All you can do is let out an eloquent ‘huh’ before he’s reaching out then and swiping away at some of the eyeliner that had moved around during the game. The drag of the pad of his thumb across your cheek should be completely harmless. Donghyuck has been infinitely rougher with his handling of you; one of the privileges of close friendship. And yet it’s this soft touch that has your breath leaving you like he punched it out of you. You swear the corner of his mouth raises, but it could be a trick of the light.

“What are you doing after—”

“I gotta go, sorry. Good game,” you toss over your shoulder before pulling your phone up to your ear like you’re taking a sudden phone call.

No one has to know that you spend the next few minutes dunking your head under one of the running faucets in an empty locker room to cool your heated face.

---

Nearly 20 minutes later, Donghyuck is tiptoeing out of the men’s locker room. He doesn’t notice the shadow waiting for him. When he deems the coast all clear, he opens up his messaging app and shoots you a text asking for your whereabouts.

“I’m right here.”

He jumps nearly 3 feet in the air before letting the scream that built in his throat turn into a whine. You’re just barely visible in the dark corner of the gym. If he squints you look a bit like his sleep paralysis demon.

“You scared me,” he says as he takes a step back only to hit a wall.

“Funny how that happens.”

You pull out your phone, stilling standing in the dark, and let the light from your phone cast eerie shadows across your face. Donghyuck gulps audibly as he watches you type slowly in response to his text. The sound of his phone notification moments later sounds deafening in the otherwise silent space.

You (21:39) - Run.

“Look, let’s talk this out like adults.” His hands come up, palms exposed like you’re a feral animal.

“I knew you weren’t number 14,” your voice is steady and devoid of emotion as you take a step towards him.

“Then you shouldn’t have fallen for it—shit. Wait!”

He trips in his haste to get away from you and falls. You foot lands dangerously close to his face as you come to stand in over him and he grimaces.

“Please don’t kill me, I’ll do anything.”

“Why did you tell me your number was Jaehyun’s number? Make it good and maybe I’ll let you live.”

“I just felt like it.”

“What the hell!”

“I’m serious.”

“Wrong answer, Hyuck.”

With that, you wriggle a foot free from one of your sneakers and shove your socked foot over his nose. You’ve been wearing the shoes all day and, because you forgot to do laundry the night before, the socks are recycled. The sound of Donghyuck’s cries for help make you slightly better and you smile softly to yourself.

You would think that Donghyuck would have learned his lesson about not causing chaos in your life after a face-full of foot. But you should know that it’s practically his job description after knowing him for as long as you have. Sometimes you love that about him and sometimes you kind of hate him for it. This time, you hate him for it.

Donghyuck prefaces the outing as a way of apologizing for tricking you. Normally you would have been slightly more critical. The first thing to tip you off should have been the fact the “apology" in question was coming almost two and a half weeks after the fateful jersey swap accident. The second thing should have been that the “apology” was coming in the form of a trip to a very specific tea house you don’t frequent because you’re not a tea person. And Donghyuck knows this. Because he knows everything else about you. Like which sweatpants you wear when you’re feeling bloated or when you just need a hug. But mainly you should have known something was up because it was Donghyuck. When he feels like he should do something, there’s no stopping him.

“What do you want to order,” he asks while holding the front door open for you to pass through.

“A smoothie.”

“It’s a damn tea house, order something normal.”

“A smoothie is normal.”

“Do you order hot dogs at seafood restaurants too,” he pins you with a tired glare. You mirror the glare and add crossed arms.

“If they don’t have a smoothie, then I don’t want anything.”

You take a look around at the interior of the shop. It’s the polar opposite of the shops you usually frequent, which are all trendy with their mixes of dark, unfinished woodwork and sleek minimalist furniture. This place is almost cottage-like in the ornateness of the older architecture and the collection of kitschy antique pieces. You’re not surprised to see that a good deal of the patrons are older, some verging on elderly. There’s only a handful of people who look like they could be your peers. One of them looks oddly familiar. You can’t put your finger on it, but there’s something familiar about the way he stands and the delicate gold links laying across the back of his neck.

“Jaehyun,” Donghyuck calls a bit too excitedly, “Hey, man is that you? What are you doing here”

“You told me to meet you—” Donghyuck cuts him off with a dramatic gasp and a glance at his bare wrist.

“Aw, would you look at the time. I actually have somewhere to be right now, so I can’t stick around.”

“But you drove us here,” you whip your head around to look at him, but he coughs suddenly and looks away.

“Yeah, sorry. No time to drop you back off at your place, so I guess you have to figure that out yourself. Jae drives though. Maybe you can figure something out.”

Neither of you really know what to say. You watch silently with your mouth open in disbelief as Donghyuck turns on his heel and struts out of the tea shop exit, whistling contentedly. You suppose that if you’re the god of chaos reincarnated, all of this would feel like a good day’s work. You berate yourself for recently washing your socks.

“Good to see you again,” Jaehyun says after a beat. He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Thought I had scared you off after...yeah.”

“Oh, right. That.”

The air feels both too thick and too thin at the same time. You want to leave, every fiber of your being is screaming at you to leave before you do something weird in front of him again. But you can’t move. So you stand there, 3 feet away and not saying anything as Jaehyun looks over the large chalkboard menu hanging above the head of the older woman who is manning the front counter.

“What are you getting?”

“Me? Uh, I don’t know. I’m not really a tea person.”

“Well, what kind of person are you?”

Given the context, it’s a harmless question. But there’s a sing-songy lilt to the way he asks the question. It’s so blatant that curiosity gets the best of you and you stop purposefully avoiding looking at him. One of his dimples is out and he’s very nearly poking the tip of his tongue out at you, like he knows you’re suffering and he thinks it's funny. Almost like he’s flirting. Almost.

“I’m a smoothie person,” you finally say. “But there’s no smoothies on the menu.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“But doesn’t it say ‘no customizations’?”

There’s a sign on the edge of the counter that says just that. Despite the fact that it’s written in beautiful, looping cursive, there’s an ominous tone to the message. Like the little old lady behind the counter might actually make you into tea if you asked for a frappe or something. You’re a little worried for Jaehyun’s safety. He must sense some sort of hesitance because he brushes it off and gestures toward the rest of the shop.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it, you can go grab us a table.”

The way he says ‘us’ so casually has you tripping slightly over nothing. He’s somehow there in the nick of time to grab at your elbow in a gentlemanly fashion to help steady you. Perhaps you yank yourself out of his proximity a little too quickly. But it’s only because you really want to find a good table and you can’t do that if Jaehyun is distracting you by grabbing at your limbs.

In actuality, though, the tea shop is fairly vacant. There are a variety of tables with pressed white tablecloths and dainty tiered tea trays housing pastries. You pick one at random and sit down. Part of you really does wish you’d left when Donghyuck did. But the other part is curious to see what Jaehyun’s like when he’s away from his team and truly outside the context you usually find him in. So you compromise and watch as subtly as you can.

He seems fairly similar—all charming smiles and pretty hair while approaching the counter to talk with the lady you assume is the owner of the shop. She looks stern as she polishes some dainty bone china, but brightens when he comes to the counter. You watch in quiet awe as she reaches a hand up to pat fondly at the side of his face, most likely pinching a cheek from the angle you’re sitting at. You see him run a hand over the back of his neck which grows red after he says something to her that she must not like. Her brow grows heavy and her lips purse but he says something else then that has her directing her sharp gaze at you. You gulp and pretend you were merely admiring the tea sandwich tray on the table as opposed to spying. A wave of sudden embarrassment comes over you and you open up your phone to text Donghyuck

You (15:38) - this is a shit apology just so u know

You (15:38) - come get me plz

Hyuck (15:40) - sorry suddenly cant read dont know what that says :)

You place your phone face down onto the table and cross your arms with a huff. While trying to plan an escape that makes you look the least asshole-y possible, Jaehyun returns with the drinks. More specifically, he returns with a tall water glass in one hand that’s filled with a pale tea with fruit chunks and mint leaves sprinkled throughout. The other hand is encased in a floral appliqué oven mitt that holds the prettiest squat little teapot you’ve ever seen. It’s blue, so it doesn’t match the pastel green teacups organized on the tablecloth, but it’s still a lovely sight.

“What’s this,” you stir at the fruit in the glass with an elegant teaspoon.

“It’s a chilled fruit tea,” he explains while casually pouring himself a steaming cup of black tea. “I tried my hardest with Mrs. Li, but there was no way I was gonna get you a smoothie. This is the closest thing I could get.”

“You really didn’t have to go to all that trouble. I would have been fine with just a water. I don’t want to get you in trouble with the owner.”

“Don’t worry. I think my reputation is fine for now.”

It’s weirdly fascinating to watch him fix up his tea. As a member of a basketball team, you would have never thought he’d be a tea drinker. Let alone a tea drinker who takes heaping spoonfuls of sugar to go with a tiny splash of milk in his tea. He hums a little to himself as he stirs it all with a silver spoon that’s been crafted to look like roses are growing up the stem. When he looks up a moment later, he catches you staring at him. His eyes crinkle and they look like they did when he looked at you after shooting a 3 at the latest home game, full of quiet joy. Both then and now you’re not sure what the smile means or why it seems to be for you. You look down and realize his lips are moving.

“What?”

He chuckles at how far away you sound. “I said ‘how’s the tea?’”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know yet. I got distracted. I was...thinking.”

“Mhm.” There’s smugness practically oozing out of his thoughtful hum.

You take a sip to appease him and frantically search for something to say that won’t make it obvious that you aren’t a fan of tea, but then you stop yourself. It’s no smoothie, but it really is the next best thing. The tea is cold like a smoothie, providing the same reprieve from the sticky heat of Spring. The tea with all its macerated berries and mint leaves is sweet and thick much like a smoothie.

“This is amazing,” you peer down at the cup like you’re not sure where half the glass went.

A light weight lands on your shoulder then. “That’s very kind of you, dear. High praise coming from a non-tea-drinker.”

It takes a lot of effort not to scream and even then your eyes open comically wide and you jump in your seat. Jaehyun has to disguise his laughter at your reaction by turning away in his seat as you turn in yours to face the old lady who was at the counter.

“I’m sorry for any trouble you went to so you could make this, Mrs. Li, Ma’am. I told Jaehyun that I wanted a smoothie and he was just trying to make me feel comfortable.”

“Oh, I know. Jaehyun’s been coming to the shop since I opened it, so he should know all about my ban on requests.” Mrs. Li eyes Jaehyun as he takes an innocent sip of his tea. “He’s always been courteous about it, so I thought he must have a darn good reason for breaking my rule this time.”

Jaehyun’s hand slips while pouring a second cup, but he doesn’t say anything as Mrs. Li continues to expose him.

“Now, that reminds me. Jaehyun, my boy, I’m sorry to tell you that Kevin won’t be coming to his sessions this week. He has a dentist appointment and it can’t be helped,” she sighs and waves her hands.

“That’s alright. As long as he practices a little every day he should be in good shape and we can pick up right where we stopped.”

She nods and for a moment the serious expression on her face morphs into something softer. Patting the back of his chair, she looks over the table and then at you.

“Alright. I hope everything is to your liking, but if something does come up do feel free to tell Jaehyun. He’s a very capable young man and he knows the shop like the back of his hand. I’d better get back to work now. The silver won’t polish itself.”

You wait a few beats to be respectful, but as soon as Mrs. Li returns to her post behind the counter you gulp down the rest of your tea and lean in.

“Who’s Kevin?”

“Her 9 year old grandson. I teach him and his younger brother piano on the weekends.”

“Oh, that’s—that’s nice,” you nod coolly. At least, you hope it appears cool. Internally you’re scrambling.

Of course your best friend’s basketball teammate teaches piano to young kids. Of course he helps the elderly tea shop lady with her store. Of course he drinks sweet tea out of blue floral teacups. Of course.

He’s finally ready to go after a third cup. You’re not sure where he’s putting it all, but it seems to be a regular occurrence for him. He takes your glass from you before you can argue about your own ability to do it and walks back over to the counter. Now more than ever you wish you could read lips. He goes around the counter to wash the glass in the farmer’s sink in the back and then stops briefly to say something to Mrs. Li. She says something back with a smile that has his cheeks flaming. He leaves a bill on the counter and comes back mumbling about his tea being too hot when you stare at his face. You’re not sure how true that is given how fast he downed those cups.

When you emerge from the tea shop, the sun is shining from a different angle and the temperature has mellowed out.

“My car is a few blocks that way,” he points in the direction of the parking lot nearby.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Even with his soft tone, his voice is firm and you don’t try to fight him on it.

But it’s strange walking with Jaehyun silently. It feels entirely too companionable despite the fact that you don’t even know him.

“Do you...want to play 20 questions?”

He stops in his tracks, clearly not expecting you to talk without him coaxing you out of your shell. But after the initial shock fades, he nods.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“White,” he says immediately. “What’s your major?”

“Studio art. Do you play other sports?”

“Nah. Is Donghyuck your best friend?”

“Yeah, Hyuck’s my best friend.”

“Is he...protective?”

“Protective? Of what?”

“You, I guess.”

“Hyuck?” You let out a snort because the thought is just hilarious. “On the right day I’m pretty sure he’d sell me to Satan for a fresh order of sweet potato fries.”

“I see,” he purses his lips like he’s in deep thought before returning back to the present moments later. “You get two since I asked two.”

“Do you like it here, now that it’s been a while since you transferred?”

“Yeah,” he looks you in the eyes. “I like it here.”

You swallow a bit too audibly but power through and keep asking questions. It takes nearly half an hour to walk the two and a half blocks leading to the parking lot. Even after that, Jaehyun takes a scenic route back to the main campus. When he pulls up outside your dorm, you’re not sure what to say, but it feels like something should be said. The sun is near setting and he’s haloed by the dying rays as he leans on the steering wheel to make sure you make it inside.

After giving a little awkward nod, you drag yourself out of the cabin of his car. There’s only a few steps left until you reach the door when he calls out. You turn.

“So,” he trails off, drumming his hands on the steering wheel before adjusting the mirror even though he’s in park and no one is coming. “Donghyuck has, like, a million fans.”

“What?”

“I just mean that he’s been on the team for years, he has a fan base. But I’m just a transfer student, so I don’t have that. And, you know, it’s really nice to have someone to cheer for you.” He tests the waters and looks at you hesitantly before continuing. “I still have your poster.”

All you can do is blink as you realize what’s going on. Or, you think you know what’s going on. And it makes zero sense to you, but you have a habit of overthinking things anyway. You kick at a pebble near the toe of your shoe, taking some time to muster up the courage to be presumptuous in a way you’re not used to.

“I can...I can make you another sign. If you want. Or like wear your number.” He grins and in that moment it seems to outshine the fading sun. “So you don’t feel left out.”

“I’d like that.” He starts the car up then, still grinning as he looks down to shift gears and adjust all his mirrors yet again. “Tell Hyuck he doesn’t need to set aside tickets anymore.”

“Okay,” is your witty reply before turning once more with a too warm face.

He waves at your retreating back before putting the car into drive.

Everyone on the team knows that every once in a while Donghyuck likes to come to practice a lot earlier than is probably normal. It’s not strange to come in when there’s 30, 40, even 50 minutes before practice starts and find him practicing footwork or doing layups on the court alone.

Jaehyun hedges a guess that he’ll find Donghyuck in the gym a good hour before practice starts one day and is pleased to find that his intuition was correct. There’s music blasting from a portable speaker and Donghyuck is doing some of the drills the coach likes to run, but done with his non-dominant hand.

When the ball rolls to a stop and Donghyuck moves to get some water, Jaehyun announces himself.

“Hey.”

“You quitting already?”

“Not yet,” Donghyuck takes in the serious set of Jaehyun’s jaw and shoulders. “We can do a 1-on-1. If you’re up for it.”

Jaehyun nods and sheds his outer layers on the sidelines. Donghyck wonders if he’s angry about something, perhaps that about practice a few days ago where he went a little too hard on Jaehyun and bashed his cheek with an elbow during a scrimmage. He braces himself for some incoming aggression, knowing he may deserve it a little.

They settle for leaving the ball on the ground in the paint since the equipment cabinet is still locked until the coach arrives. Both of them sprint from the freethrow line, with Jaehyun grabbing the ball first. Donghyuck moves into defense easily, having been in game mode for who knows how long. Jaehyun isn’t nearly as tough in his offense as Donghyck expected. In fact, he’s playing surprisingly light.

“What’s up with you,” Donghyuck says after the first basket.

Jaehyun catches the ball after it falls from the basket, jogging it back to the starting position. Donghyuck waits for him back at the freethrow line, brows raised but otherwise silent.

“Nothing’s up. Nothing big, I mean.”

“You’re a pretty bad liar.”

The words catch Jaehyun by surprise and he stumbles a bit coming off the line. Donghyuck uses the momentary shock to his advantage and steals the ball. The point comes easy as he basically runs a circle around his competitor.

“Since I won that point, why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?”

Donghyuck doesn’t bother going back to the freethrow line and instead goes back to dribbling practice. His rhythm is slow with his off hand, but steady. Better than Jaehyun’s with his off hand.

“Do you believe in bro code?”

Donghyuck snorts. “I guess. You’re not gonna ask me for my mom’s phone number, are you?”

“No. Not your mom’s,” Jaehyun trails off.

Instantly Donghyuck knows what this is about. Or who. Your face flashes in his mind and he has to bite his own cheek to keep from laughing. Being your best friend gives him exclusive access to just how awkward you can be. But the fact that Jaehyun resorted to all this buildup is kind of hilarious.

“Aw, you guys are cute.”

“What?” Jaehyun’s cheeks grow pink. “Why is this cute?”

“Look, you don’t need to ask me first or do whatever this is. I’m not her keeper. And I’m not gonna sabotage you, either.” Jaehyun’s shoulders lose some of their squared off edge.

“Okay,” he nods. “Thanks, man.”

“I could use a favor, though.”

“Oh. What is it?”

“I have a meeting with Coach after practice today. But I also really need to pick something up at the stationery store before tomorrow. Can you go pick it up for me?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“Cool. I’ll text you the details later.”

---

Jaehyun arrives at the stationery store with his phone in hand. The note from Donghyuck mentions some special set of paints with a foreign-sounding name. As he walks through the aisles of the little store, Jaehyun wonders who the paints are for. The note also mentioned that they were a gift for someone, but it doesn’t say who the someone is.

It takes a few laps around the store, and by the time he spots the little nook for the brand, the store owner's voice had already sounded through the overhead speakers to say that the shop would be closing soon. He grabs the last box left and quietly rejoices. Donghyuck had bartered your number for the price of running the errand. If Jaehyun could get the paints, then he could get the number. The odd part was that Donghyuck had mentioned something about Jaehyun possibly not even needing to ask him for the number if he played his cards right. Originally he had shrugged the comment off, but it did raise the hairs on the back of his neck a bit. There’s something about Donghyuck that feels akin to a cartoon villain, but Jaehyun can’t put his finger on it.

“Checking out?”

“Yeah,” he hands the shop attendant the container of paints.

The attendant tries to scan the barcode, but a strange sound comes from the machine.

“I think something’s wrong with the barcode. If you can wait right here, I’ll go get another one to scan and give you that one instead.”

“Oh. That was actually the last one left.”

“I see.” The attendant presses some keys on the computer before nodding. “I think we should have a reference code in that backroom. I can go get that and punch it in manually if that’s okay.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, that would be great.”

The attendant assures him it’ll only be a moment before leaving the counter and disappearing into the back of the store. Jaehyun waits patiently while leaning on the counter when the bell to the front door of the shop rings. Another customer has come in right before closing, and the sound of their labored breathing makes it clear that they know they’re cutting it close. The footsteps fade out and then grow louder once more after a few minutes. He takes a glance over his shoulder to see you standing a little bit behind him.

“Oh. Hi. H-hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” Jaehyun turns completely and sets his phone on the counter. “What brings you here?”

“I’m just grabbing some paint. I ran out a few days ago and I have some big projects coming up.”

“That’s funny. I’m doing the same thing.”

“Do you paint,” your eyes grow a little bigger with the prospect. At the sight of your small smile, Jaehyun wishes he could paint for the first time ever.

“No, but I’d like to learn.” And it’s never been true before, but he means it in that moment.

“Well, I could—”

“Sorry for the delay,” the shop attendant comes jogging back from the backroom. “Another employee had the reference book, so I had to spend some time to hunt it down. But you should be all set now.”

Jaehyun sends an apologetic smile your way before turning back to finish checking out. Once he’s done, even though he’s on a tight schedule with this favor, he hangs back.

“—I’m sorry but we sold out of the Neo Color Technology paints. If you’d like, we can give you a call when the next shipment comes in, but there’s a two-week wait.”

“Ah, really? Okay.”

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you think about what you’ll do now. The idea of continuing some of your projects with a new set of paints that could have a completely different set of hues makes you nervous. You just perfected the shade of green you needed at the base for your huge forest study. Now you’d have to start from scratch.

Jaehyun is trying his hardest not to eavesdrop, but the odd paint name catches his attention. It’s the same one he just bought, per Donghyuck’s request.

“You can have mine,” he blurts out. “I’m the one who bought the last ones. But I obviously don’t need them like you do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please, take them.”

Jaehyun hands you the bag. The smile you offer him in return is brilliant.

“I’ll pay you back.”

“God, no. Don’t worry about it.”

“Then, let me buy you a tea or something at least.” You hand him your phone. “Here, put your number in and you can pick a day. I’ll pay.”

So Jaehyun takes your phone and inputs his number. A moment later he gets a text from you, clarifying that it’s you. He feels victorious for a moment and then confused. Here he is, getting your number without having to ask, just like Donghyuck himself had mentioned. He’s getting this number because he gave you, Donghyuck’s friend, some paints. Paints that Donghyuck asked him to buy, as a gift to a mysterious friend.

Maybe Donghyuck is less like a villain and more like a twisted fairy godmother.

This little dance you keep doing with Jaehyun is strange, to say the least.

It felt odd to copy the number 14 onto your cheek for the first time knowing who it would really be for. And it felt weird to get so used to doing it that you can now copy the stencil in with practiced ease using the face paint you bought specifically for the occasion, no longer worrying about accidentally writing it backwards. All the while, you can barely make eye contact with him after a game, although you can practically feel the weight of his gaze when you make a beeline for Donghyuck after the last buzzer rings. And you can see the way his hand tugs at the gold chain around his neck as he approaches you cautiously. And you can hear the disappointment in his tone when he asks if you’re going to the house parties thrown by one of the players that typically follow the games only to hear you say no each time.

Another few weeks later finds you trying to make it through midterms. Donghyuck being a literature major means his midterms schedule is always different from yours. This time his midterms end much earlier, a few days earlier to be exact. You’re left to suffer through late night crunches to finish up paintings for one of your crits. Photoshopping some pieces for your digital art class leaves you so busy you don’t even register what’s going on around you.

“It’s my turn to host the post-game party,” he says after letting himself into your apartment one day. He drops the spare keyring reserved for him in the dish near the front door.

“Mhm.”

“But I feel like it would be a nice change to have it here.” When he makes a big show of dropping the takeout he brought you, you don’t even flinch at the sound of it hitting the table you’ve taken over.

“Sounds good,” is all you say as you try to find the one layer out of the 25 you had that you were looking for.

“Great, so I’ll probably stop by on Friday with stuff before the game to set up and then the team can just come through afterwards.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t hate me,” he places a kiss on the top of your head before wrinkling his nose when he smells your unwashed hair. “And don’t work yourself too hard, either.”

“Yeah...definitely.”

Friday comes by and you’re still working, so you have to skip the actual game itself. In the brief window of free time you had that morning, you wonder if you should text Jaehyun again so you can tell him you won’t be coming or bringing your little hand stenciled 14. But you decide against it. It’s a big game and he doesn’t need to be bogged down by unnecessary texts.

You’re actually away at your first crit when Donghyuck stops by again, this time with party supplies. When you come back, you barely register the mountain of beers and cheap wines sitting in your kitchen. All you want to do is sleep like the dead for a few hours. As you zombie walk to your room, you swear you hear him call to you to ask if he can store his balloons in the sink. With your last two brain cells you figure he must have said something else and you were just too tired to actually comprehend it.

Hours later, bass blaring through the thin walls of your place wakes you from your slumber. The details of your conversation with Donghyuck a few days prior come flooding back just as you pick up your pepper spray to drive out what you thought were home intruders. You leave your weapon behind and open your door just slightly. The music washes over you, louder now that the seal to your bedroom has been broken.

There’s plenty of voices coming outside that accompany the music. Even a few errant screams make it inside and to your ears. Courtesy of Chenle, no doubt. A few more brave steps outside your room and a glance out of the hallway window lets you know that you didn’t mishear Donghyuck. You see several of the guys chucking water balloons at one another on the grass outside. The pile of little teardrop-shaped balloons is admirably large and it becomes clear that they’ll be doing this for a while.

You’re not in the mood to get soaked or get mosquito bites just so you can seem friendly. After all, the party is being hosted in your apartment complex. That’s friendly enough, you reason. Once you’ve done a quick sweep through the rest of the apartment to make sure nothing is stolen, stained, or broken, you return to your room to get ready for bed properly. It takes a while because you have to wash your hair on top of everything else after receiving a very strongly worded text from Donghyuck.

While in your bathroom, brushing your teeth and watching a video Taeyong sent you, there’s jumbled knocking on your door. Barely any time passes between the last knock and the creak of someone leaning on your door as they open it. You curse to yourself before spitting in the sink.

“Hey, the bathroom for guests is actually—”

Jaehyun stands in the middle of your room, squinting at the tapestry you have hanging over your bed. The sound of his teeth chattering despite it being the peak of Spring is actually alarming enough to stop you from being mad that Donghuck didn’t think to put a clear sign towards the bathroom for the general public.

“I always thought your room would have candles in it,” Jaehyun drawls. He looks around once more like he’s hoping a candle will jump out of a hiding spot. All his movements are slow and sleepy.

“Are you drunk?”

He grins with eyes that droop closed. “Yep.”

“Great,” you mumble. When you take a step closer you realize the dark red sleeveless tank he’s wearing is actually dark from being saturated with water. “Why are you wet?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. We played water balloon tag. I lost the last round.”

Jaehyun places a clumsy finger to his lips and stage-whispers a loud “shh”. For some reason you mirror that back to him. He nods, satisfied with your reaction.

“Don’t tell the others, but I...” he hiccups “I got cold, so I came inside.”

“What’s wrong with telling them you’re cold.” He hangs his head in shame then. Clearly you’re missing something important.

“Hyuck says bad bitches never get cold.”

With his shoulders slumped forward in such a pitiful fashion, you actually feel bad for wanting to laugh. It’s surprising. Super surprising actually, considering Jaehyun’s presence in your room means Donghyuck forgot to do the one thing you ask of him when he hosts parties at your place—put clear signs for drunk people to follow to the guest bathroom. You usually don’t want to deal with drunk student athletes, but something about Jaehyun makes him exempt from that.

“You can warm up here.”

As soon as you say the words, you cringe. It sounds like the awful beginnings of a bad porno, but your intentions really are pure. There’s something too sad about watching him nearly doze off while standing up like a newborn colt. So you go and find the best hoodie that you have in your clean laundry and you risk going to the kitchen and getting hit with a runaway water balloon so you can put water on for tea. Hopefully it will warm him up while also sobering him up a little.

“Is this Hyuck’s shirt,” he asks as soon as you return with a steaming mug.

“Uh, I think so.” You take a moment to appraise the hoodie. “Yeah, it’s his. It’s from one of his basketball camps from when we were younger, I think.”

He purses his lips but gratefully takes the mug with swaying hands. After taking a large sip, he hums and lets his head loll back with a smile.

“This is Mrs. Li’s blend.”

“Yeah.”

It doesn’t seem right to tell him that you’ve been back there a couple times now and have started trying to get into tea. You take the time to put some distance between him and you. You walk to your bed and fluff a pillow that doesn’t need fluffing. The thing is that Jaehyun being in your room feels...weird. He looks all too content and comfortable in the space. That’s not to say he doesn’t suit the environment well. Somehow he looks like he belongs in your room with his soaked tank top and damp hair. You fluff the pillow harder.

“You must be tired,” he says after a long silence. He’s finished his tea but his eyes are still glassy.

“What?”

“Donghyuck told me ‘bout all your projects. Told me you had to draw him for one.”

“Oh, yeah I did. People actually loved that piece the most. But it took me the shortest amount of time.”

“Next time,” he begins ambling across the room, coming to place the empty mug on your bedside table. “Next time, you can ask me to model. If you want.”

“I mean, I only asked Hyuck since he was watching TV and he was there. Plus I know his face so well that it doesn’t even matter if he talks while I paint. The company is kind of nice.”

“Well, you can do it with me next.”

He’s drunk, you remind yourself. He doesn’t realize how strange what he’s saying is. And yet, your face still heats up. The sound of his teeth chattering lightly again reminds you how he got to be in your room in the first place. Jaehyun hugs himself as he continues to check out your room with a small smile on his face. He looks content.

“Do you want to get in,” you offer before your brain can process what your mouth has just done. His eyes go wide.

“Excuse me?”

“Not—I mean, you just...look really cold and tired. Plus I heard you guys lost the game tonight, so the coach had you hauling ass after.” At the sight of his mildly amused face, tongue nudged between his teeth you add, “I don’t mean you should stay the night. It could just be for a bit and then you could, like, get up and call a cab home. But I get it if you’d rather not. Actually, I can just go see if Hyuck is around. I think he brought his—”

“No, no, stay,” he replies quickly to keep you from jumping out of bed. “I could use the rest.”

He turns around to shrug off the wet tank and pull on the hoodie, mumbling something about ‘not wanting to get your sheets wet’. Internally you wonder if you’re being laughed at by the gods while staring politely at nothing in the other corner of the room. You scoot over from your position in the middle of the bed to the side opposite him. He rewards your kindness with a flash of a bright smile before moving to pull back the covers.

His face lands directly in one of your pillows and you panic when you realize your sheets aren’t fresh out the washer. Jaehyun doesn’t seem to mind and lets out a sigh before shivering a little. With the hood over his hair, you can barely make out his eyes but you can tell they’re trained on you.

“You sure this is okay,” he whispers.

“Yeah.”

The bed shifts minutely as he turns a little to get more comfortable. It feels hot in the bed all of the sudden. Despite the fact that you have on weather appropriate pajamas and your most lightweight Spring bedding on. Despite the fact that you’re not laying close enough to him to be able to feel any body heat. Maybe it’s warmer outside than you thought. That’s probably it.

---

When you wake up several hours later, it’s to the sound of clanking in your living room. The other side of the bed is empty and you try not to read into it. It wasn’t supposed to be a full night over, after all. You swing your feet over the edge of the bed only to squeal when your foot hits something cold in the little rug you keep there.

“What is it!” Donghyuck crashes into the room while holding the trash bag he was collecting loose beer cans with. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just—oh.”

You look down at the rug and see something shiny and metallic as opposed to something wet and slimy. With your index finger and thumb, you pick up a medium length golden chain. It shines even in the low lighting of your bedroom. You both squint at the jewelry, trying to place it.

Donghyuck’s eye grow wide and he looks around the room in disgust suddenly.

“Was he in here?”

“Uh, yeah,” you grumble as you rub your eyes.

“What for?”

When Donghyuck raises an inquisitive eyebrow, your mouth drops open.

“We just slept—”

“You slept together?”

“Hyuck, not like that! What’s your problem?”

“Still, why is he sleeping in here? You never have guys sleep in here.”

“You sleep in here all the time,” you point a finger at him.

“True,” he cedes immediately, pointing a finger back. “Well, you better return that. I think it’s his lucky charm or something.”

“Can’t you do it?” He laughs before returning to the living room.

“He didn’t leave it in my bed.”

“I–fine. I don’t need your help anyway.”

At that, he snorts.

“You do, but I’ll let you keep thinking that you don’t, because I’m a good friend.”

“You’re annoying, that’s what you are.”

You pull on a sweater before coming out of your room with your phone in hand. There’s a companionable silence that falls over you two as you attempt to draft a text to Jaehyun about his chain while Donghyuck picks up the remaining trash from the party.

“How’d everything go,” you ask once the message is sent.

“It was fine. Jae was so gone that we thought he had flushed himself down the toilet for a while. But I guess that’s not what happened.”

Your face heats up at the teasing tone he uses.

“Hyuck, I have something to tell you.”

“God, what? Are you pregnant?”

“No! What the hell? Are you?” You try to swipe at his butt from the back of the couch.

“No! But...can you just say what you’re gonna say? You’re making me nervous.”

He even goes so far as to put the trash down and come around to sit with you on the sofa. You take a deep breath.

“I have a crush on Jaehyun. I just thought you should know.”

He stares at you, not blinking for a few seconds. He opens his mouth and then shakes his head to himself and closes it again.

“I see,” he finally says.

“It’s been going on a while, and I didn’t want to leave you in the dark.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Nope! I don’t mind being in the shadows. I do some of my best work there.”

“Do you think it could go anywhere?”

“What do you mean,” he throws another can into his bag.

“Like, do you think I have a chance with him?”

Donghyuck turns to stare at you, deadpan. “Do I think you have a chance with Jung Jaehyun? The man who slept in your bed a few hours ago?”

“Yeah.” Your face is completely open and imploring.

He sighs, “I think you might have a shot, sure.”

“Why, though?”

“I don’t know. Just a hunch.”

The next game of the season is a big one. The team coming in to play is an old school rival, so it draws a crowd that contains even the less sport-inclined students. You manage to get a ticket set away, but it’s still tough trying to find a spot to sit. It’s first come first serve with seats since the gym isn’t big enough to have labeled arena seating.

Initially you had planned to use the extra time you had before the start to return Jaehyun’s chain, but it took you so long to make it from the parking lot to the gym and then to an open seat that there wasn’t any time left. Somewhere in between, you nearly get knocked over by the heavy current of fans from both teams flooding the space. The chain, once clutched in your hand, ends up around your neck out of fear that you lose it permanently.

You end up in the nosebleeds for the rest of the time. The players look like ants and if it weren’t for the large printed numbers on their jerseys, you might not be able to tell all of them apart. You text Donghyuck your location, and you see him looking towards the back rows at the beginning of the game, but he has to stay focused. You try your hardest to focus as well. At this point, you’re just about fluent in the sport that is basketball. But tonight’s game is hard to follow despite this. Jaehyun grabs your attention instead. He plays especially rough tonight, you note. He pushes hard across the court, even gets a couple warnings for defending like he’s on offense. There’s a fair amount of goals with his name on them as well. It’s exciting and you just wish your cheers could reach him.

More annoyance comes when the game finally ends. It’s a last minute shot by one of the other players who walked on this season that tips the game in your school’s favor. The crowd is deafening, even the ending buzzer is muted by their shouts. The bleachers shake under you with the force of fans running to meet their favorite players and generally gloat in front of the other team on the court. The shaking underneath you is terrifying enough to keep you seated until things have died down. There’s still probably a minimum of hundred people gathered on the floor, but you can at least step over empty concession bags as opposed to being stepped on by the supportive members of the hockey team.

It takes forever to find a single person you know. Of course it’s Donghyuck, who is in the middle of talking with some friends from off the team.

“Hyuck,” you begin to run over. When he sees you, you give him a big smile.

“No,” he responds simply as you get closer.

You slow down and let confusion wrinkle your brow. He offers no further verbal explanation but does give you a swift head nod in another direction. You follow the gesture and find Jaehyun at the end of the path. He looks a bit lost despite being with Doyoung and Johnny.

The fact that the others are there makes you freeze up at first, but the feeling of the chain laying delicately on your clavicle reminds you of what you need to do. Luckily, he sees you before the others do and he steps aside under the guise of getting a fresh towel. He waits for you to catch up once he’s out of their line of sight.

His voice is low, like he’s worried being too loud will make you change your mind about talking with him. But there’s an undercurrent of sincere happiness.

“There you are.”

“I was at the top row. I got here too late to sit where I normally do.”

“Ah. I thought maybe you couldn’t make it.”

“There’s no way I would be able to miss this one. Hyuck threatened to shave my head if I did.”

“That...sounds like him.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. The nerves are getting to you a bit. You’ve never confessed your feelings to anyone before, and you’re not sure if Donghyuck was right about you having a shot.

“So, what are you doing—”

“I’ve been meaning to tell—”

You both start talking at once and then immediately clam up when you interrupt each other.

He gives the floor to you. “You go first.”

“Okay.”

You reach for the back of your neck and watch as his gaze follows the movement of your hands only for his eyes to light up in recognition.

“I wondered where that thing went.”

“You left it at my place. I put it on because I was scared I’d lose it for real. Sorry.”

He reaches out casually to thumb at the chain around your neck. “Don’t be. It looks good on you.”

“It looks better on you.”

The chain slides off cool against your skin and your fingers shake as you carry the chain over to him. Wordlessly, you reach up and loop your arms around his neck to reunite the chain with its rightful owner. Sweaty palms make it difficult to redo the clasp without being able to see it. It puts you right in his personal space for an awkwardly long time.

“I’m really sweaty,” he whispers.

“Uh, that’s nice?”

He laughs and it puffs off your temple.

“I don’t want to get you dirty, but I really want to kiss you right now.” The clasp finally snaps into place

“Oh.”

The way he leans in, the way his arms come to cage around your waist, the drip of the sweat from his temple down the hinge of his jaw. All of it is slow. As if to give you the space to withdraw if you wanted. But you surge forward into him. And for once it’s not awkward. You don’t know how long you stand there necking like hormonal high schoolers in a sea of people on the gym floor at a school dance, but—just like at the school dance—someone is bursting the gossamer thin ambiance just when Jaehyun’s fingers graze the back pocket of your jeans.

“If you look to your left, boys and girls, you can see two local horndogs engaged in a seasonal ritual” He karate chops a hand down the space between your faces, cutting the kiss off abruptly and nearly bruising Jaehyun’s nose. Meanwhile Taeyong snickers loudly from behind Doyoung.

“Do you have a death wish,” you turn to him with fire in your eyes. He backs up slightly, but attempts to stand his ground.

“Do you know how hard I’ve been working to set you two up?”

“What are you talking about?”

You turn to Jaehyun, who looks just as confused. The gears turning in your heads are practically visible as you and he put 2 and 2 together slowly. The random lies, the weird errands, the sudden party. The blank stares from Donghyuck every time the two of you were in the same room but refused to talk. It all adds up.

“You owe me sweet potato fries for the rest of your life. Maybe longer, I’m not sure yet.”

Donghyuck puts his arms around you and Jaehyun, pulling you with him as he heads out of the gym and towards the exit that leads toward the cafeteria.

“I can’t believe you...puppet-mastered us,” Jaehyun’s voice is airy with disbelief.

“I can’t believe you guys didn’t realize what was going on,” Taeyong snickers on the walk over. Doyoung snorts while lacing their fingers together.

“Yeah, the whole team was in on it.”

“You guys are one to talk.” Donghyuck turns back to give the two boys a humbling once over. “Don’t get me started on how hard it was to get you two losers together.”

Doyoung stops in his tracks, nearly tripping Taeyong in the process.

“What?”

#nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines

510 notes · View notes

ivory-sunflower · 4 years

Text

Arty Art Things ✨

Hellooo!

I've decided to post some of the arty things I've done either recently or in the last few years, well the pieces I'm somewhat proud of at least. All my posts tend to be a lot more wordy than they need to be but hey it's what I do here!

Conchúr White

Anyone one who's been on this blog for a bit will have probably have seen me talk about this lovely Irish fella. The pencil drawing is actually a year old as of yesterday, I only know that because screenshots of me flipping out about Conchúr following me on twitter popped up in my memories yesterday. I think I'd sent it to him at about 3 in the morning (I was not in a good head space at that point in time), so probably not what he was expecting to see when he opened his phone in the morning aha

The biro version is much more recent: I got bored while sat at my desk and doing research about university courses, saw a biro, saw my old drawing of Conchúr, had an idea. I revisited my GCSE art techniques and here we are. Again, I put this up on Twitter and now (at the the time I'm writing this) when you google "Conchúr White" it's the third top image of him which is a bit mad really. I think I spent all of about 20 minutes on Conchúr but another 45 minutes on the words behind him. The words are the names of the songs on his EP 'Bikini Crops', he doesn't just really love the idea of Channing Tatum driving him around at night in a daisy print bikini... Well maybe he does but what he does in his spare time is none of my business...

TechDif

So I mentioned that the pencil drawing of Conchúr came from a rough patch in my mental health and this one is no different! In fact this one came from an even worse circumstance so we love to see it. I had a bad, bad time in July and this started as a way of distracting myself from what was going on in my head. Without it, I can't honestly say I'd still be here so even if the final product of this had been a terrible mess I would still love it for keeping me alive. However, it did not turn out to be a terrible mess!

Now that the origin of this is out the way, where do I start with TechDif? Unlike Conchúr, I haven't really talked about them on here (unless you count one brief post about Citation Needed) before so I guess I'll do it here. The Technical Difficulties are a wonderful group of 4 British fellas who have had their fair share of fun online and even before. They did a radio show at university together, which went on to become their Reverse Trivia Podcast, later moving on to a panel show called 'Citation Needed': and a game called 'Two of These People Are Lying'. All of which I would thoroughly reccomend, they're one of my go to things when I'm having a rough time. All 4 of them are excellent! Tom Scott (red top, blue jeans on the picture) has his own YouTube channel which does content aside from TechDif. If you're quite nerdy and like science, linguistics, computers, or any number of other things you may enjoy Tom's channel. He is probably best described as "The Moderator" of the group, much like a tired teacher he tries desperately to keep everyone on track with what they're meant to be doing, but usually it does not end well for him. Then we have Matt Gray (space top, holding an ice cream) who also has a channel away from TechDif stuff, he does techy electronic things and has a series called 'Will it Soft Serve?' where he puts all kinds of strange things through a soft serve machine. Matt brings a very specific energy to TechDif and I can't fully describe what that vibe is but I love it. Matt and Tom also share a YouTube channel where TOTPAL is posted and they had a series called 'The Park Bench'. Moving on to everybody's favourite Gary Brannan: Gary Brannan (SATIRE hoodie, glasses) and can I just say, what a fella he is! He's just excellent! He is the one that will argue and rip into Tom the most (not in a malicious way) and hilarity ensues. There are some episodes where he is absolutely on it, getting all the points and others where he very clearly has no idea and that's where some of his funniest quotes come from. Given how badly I was doing at the time I made this, his response to it on Twitter was so so lovely. I specifically remember one tweet where he said I'd made him happy and although it was probably a flippant comment, it just made feel alright for a bit. Yeah I might be feeling awful right now, but I've made someone else happy so that's a nice feeling. Then last but certainly not least, we have Chris Joel (buffalo check shirt, beard)! I would be lying if I said he isn’t my favourite... His sense of humor is the one I vibe with most, he can get rather dramatic in parts and can chat bollocks like a champion. He has absolutely no online presence away from TechDif and, like Rens from Temples, I fully believe he’s a cryptid and lives off in a tree somewhere.

The picture took me about 4 days to complete, well 4 nights because I did most of it between the hours of 12 a.m. and 7a.m. - I remember watching the sun come through my window each morning. It’s made up of lots of little pieces, all cut out and stuck on; even the sky and hills are made of separate pieces of paper. Nothing was actually drawn on the piece of paper it’s all stuck on, it’s not how I usually do things but if I messed up one little but I could just redraw it rather than ruining the whole thing. The most tedious parts to make were Chris’ shirt because I had to draw each square individually and then join the as well, and cutting out the ban-hammer in the bottom right was surprisingly hard. Every single detail of the picture is a reference to the podcast/shows, I still have the plan sketch and reference list knocking about somewhere. I listened to a lot of true crime videos while making it to the point that certain parts remind me of different cases: the brandy now reminds me of Peter Tobin, and the big spiral thing reminds me of Tim McLean (very harrowing case) - sorry that fact is a bit morbid but interesting nonetheless.

I did post this for a little bit back in July, but I received some rather awful messages so I took it down. Generally, Tom Scott/TechDif fans are lovely but there’s been a few that have taken a disliking to me for some reason so I’m hoping they don’t resurface again. I’m in a better head space now though, so even if they do I’m more equipped to deal with it this time.

Hozier

This was a quick sketch I did in April, I was getting bored with lockdown and decided to summon the bog man himself. There’s not really much more backstory than that, no poor mental health story, no fun twitter story - he’s just here. He’s vibing. I will say I’m particularly proud of his nose, I just think it’s one of the best noses I’ve ever drawn. His hand is okay, but I think that the hands on my Conchúr drawings are better. So there is the Hozi-Boi...

The Corpse Bry

I’ve talked about Bry on here before as well, I love him, he’s excellent, top lad. He is a living Tim Burton character, he’s 6′6, very skinny, and his legs are longer than my will to live. I was watching ‘The Corpse Bride’ a few weeks ago and suddenly had an idea and so ‘The Corpse Bry’ came to be. I gave him a little panda friend because the panda has always been his animal - he used to wear a panda beanie all the time and his album had a panda on the cover. Again, there’s not really a fun story behind this one, I guess it’s somewhat fun because it’s the first art I made after finishing my psychology exams in October so it was nice to actually have the time to draw.

James Bagshaw

Ginger talking about Temples for the third post in a row? it’s more likely than you think! I did this one last week, I’d had a bit of a wobbly day and had group therapy on Teams in the evening and I just couldn’t concentrate on what was going on and I ended up doodling Mr James E. Bagshaw, the glitter crying fraggle man himself. It’s a bare-bones drawing that I could definitely work into more but I’m happy with it as it is to be honest. I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit and add the individual bits of fringe to his jacket, just thinking about doing that makes me tired. Maybe I’ll get around to drawing the whole band at some point...

Alice in “Wonderland”

This one is from about 5(?) years ago, it’s not my typical style and was a “study” based on another artists work (basically i just had to copy this fellas work). I’ll be honest, this one has a sketchy backstory that I won’t go in to because it’s not exactly a nice one, and because of that I also won’t say who the artist is that it’s based on. Despite this, I’m still really proud of this one and I’m so sad that I never got this piece back after I got taken out the class. I’ve considered trying this style again, I’ve even joked about doing another Conchúr drawing in this style as a nod to my progression through GCSE art, eventually leading to Conchúr drawn in ink on music manuscript and stained with neon paint and dyes - it would be quite the project!

So this has been quite a lengthy post so apologies about that but life goes on. Similar to the vinyl post, I’ll probably add to this as and when I make more art. Even if no one is reading these posts, I’m enjoying making them so that’s the main thing. It’s just nice to document things and the feelings that go with them. 💕

~ Love Ginger xx

29/11/2020

26 notes · View notes

billyboymiki · 4 years

Text

5 Works Tag Game

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and post or link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

I got tagged by @tippenfunkaport and @caramelaire for this tag game!!

I’m not one to compliment myself on anything honestly. Recently I remember thinking about how I barely drew anything this year. There was a part of my brain nagging at me to check how much I had drawn last year. So, I uh did. Turns out I drew basically nothing?! I triple checked this in fact. My DeviantART, Tumblr AND my camera roll. Nothing . . . I drew 5 very basic pinback button designs and that was it. I couldn’t believe it; but, it made be feel so much better about what I did this year. Basically my whole instagram is all artwork from this year, since I am actually really new to IG. I got super close to 40 works this year!

Now onto the works! They are in order of when I drew them 😊

Glimmer Inspired Patterns

I wanted to teach myself how to make patterns on Clip Studio so bad! I watched a couple of YT tutorials, and I can’t even remember why I decided to make She-ra ones specifically; I’m glad I did though! The Glimmer one means so much to me. Just looking at makes me so happy! The fact that so many people have now called it ‘aesthetically pleasing’ makes me feel as though I actually created a work that others could relate to. That was enough praise for me; to create something for myself that everyone else loved as well 💖

Glimbow Cuddle

This was my first real She-ra artwork. When I saw there was a Glimbow Week again I knew I had to join this one. I don’t know if anyone knows this; but, drawings take me forever to make. I used to be strictly a traditional artist and still prefer to draw rough drafts on paper. I couldn’t decide if I wanted them on Glimmer’s window seat or in Bow’s dads’ library. I was afraid of doing backgrounds; so, both sounded absolutely terrifying. I decided to go for the fireplace even if it meant fancy lighting on top of the background aspect. I think I actually spent more time on the lighting that’s hitting Bow than on anything else in this picture. It was worth it though. I studied how the show did backgrounds and lighting for a while. I tried so many different attempts at how I wanted it to look and ultimately went with this one! I love it so much 🥺

Bow’s list with doodles

Ah, yes the drawings I did for Tippen’s birthday!! I knew I wanted to draw a scene from ‘Tuna Cans’, but I was worried to try something like this. You see, I’m somebody that likes to stay in a comfort zone and only uploaded fully rendered perfect artworks. This year was the first time that I let the ‘fun’ aspect overrule my perfectionism. I’m so happy that I stepped out of my comfort zone for this, because I love Chibi styles so much. I can’t even explain the absolute joy I had drawing these. I didn’t tell anyone what I was up to, so it was just me laughing at myself for being an absolute goofball. The end result and everyone’s reactions were more than I could have ever expected. I’ve decided I’m going to revive this style soon as well so please look forwards to it!!

Space Suit Squad

Okay, so I cheated a little with this one! I couldn’t just pick ONE of the squad. Honestly though, I drew these with the thought of making them into prints in the back of my mind. I taught myself how to draw a space background and I’m really proud of it! So much in fact that the one in the final pictures is the first and last one I ended up doing! If I had to pick my favorites I think I’d have to pick Glimmer, Bow and then Catra. I LOVE the way I draw Catra I don’t know why? Maybe the eyebrows I’m not sure 🤔 It took me a while to decide on expressions and poses; although, I figured these were the ones because I could look at them and go ‘yep that’s them.’

Winter Glimbow

This one took me soooo long; I actually had to tell myself that I should put my pen down because it was done and I should stop touching it!!! I was sketching pictures in my sketchbook to make more patterns for my Redbubble account, and of course I’m like 100% Glimbow brainrot. My brain went, oooo you know what would be cute? If this skate was actually Bow’s and not just generic. So, I ended up sketching Glimmer’s as well. The heart that their skates make is like the cherry on the top for me, it had to be done! I’m not sure I did the background justice on this one? It doesn’t matter to me though because the concept was worth the effort. It was snowing here and I needed this picture like I needed air, even if it wasn’t even December at the time I posted it 🤣 I liked this one so much that I have similar ideas for the other seasons sketched out as well 👀

I’m sorry that I ramble so often. I’m like this quiet person; yet, it’s hard for me to get out everything I want to say? I’m horrible at it actually my brain runs at a hundred miles a minute and I’m not good with words most of the time. This turned out as more of a thought process than my actual feelings on each one I suppose. SO, in conclusion. I drew A LOT, I stepped out of my comfort zone, taught myself digital art and patterns. I let myself come to terms with the fact that not every piece of art has to be ‘perfect’. I drew at least 5 FULL backgrounds and I never used to draw them! I’ve also always been one for simple shading and lighting, and I do think there’s a time for that type of style, while other times sometimes a more difficult one might be appropriate. I’m glad that I did both because now I know I can do both, and they each give a characteristic that I adore 🥰 Thank you to everyone that has followed me through this journey, or just anyone who read my rambling! I have an honorable mention under the cut and some originals for anyone that made it this far! 💖

I’m not going to tag anyone; but, if you want to do this PLEASE do it. It was so great to reflect on what I did this year, it really surprised me and I think what you have done will surprise you as well! It’s been a rough year, and in the end we have been here supporting each other and that’s one of the most rewarding parts of being in a fandom! 💜

Glimmer screencap redraw

Another picture where I really tested myself on drawing a background! I love it even if it killed my hand!! The background definitely took the longest on this one too. My sister literally said ‘Wait, you did the background? I thought you just drew her?!’ And that was the only validation I needed!! I ended up thinning out Glimmer’s outline so she matched the background better. If you use the vectors on Clip please use this feature! You can do the opposite as well, it’s super useful!

Oh hi! Remember when I said I couldn’t decide between the two locations? Truth is, I also couldn’t decide if I was going to make it traditional or digital. I ended up getting really mad at the traditional version unfortunately. I haven’t gotten the hang of traditional backgrounds. In the end, I should have also done it in Copic and not cheap pencil crayons 😫

Just some space friends! There is something so rewarding about traditional art. Yes, I can see the mistakes and the proportions are most likely off; yet, it doesn’t bother me? I wanted to also show these bonus drawings because nobody is perfect and I thought some of you might like to see some of my process. Being able to hold it in my hands is something I will never tire of, in a way it’s super rewarding. I keep all my art actually and sometimes I like the rough drafts more than the finished work 👀 Outlining artwork can actually ruin the charm every so often 😔 I do really love the final versions of these though!

Annnnnd the last bonus!! As you can tell the final version stayed pretty true to my sketches! I almost went with a more realistic look and made the symbols ‘stitched’ onto the skates. In the end it felt like it didn’t fit the rest of the drawing unless I wanted to add extra details to the clothing as well. The wings on Glimmer’s skates turned into ‘Shwings’ PLEASE tell me other people know what that is? I had a pair a few years ago and misplaced them. I was doing the rough draft and it popped into brain and I treated it as a joke at first, until I gave it a proper chance XD In the end I fell in love with it!!!

#she-ra #spop #fanart #tag game #billyboymiki #Miki speaks #long post #sorry #my art #I actually cried a little writing all of this 😱#the only thing I wanted to do really bad this year was make an spop amv #I might juggle art and making one so I can get one out at some point

12 notes · View notes

setaripendragon · 5 years

Text

Never Simple - Chapter 1

Okay! This is... this one is kind of ridiculous. So, I watched Venom a couple of weeks ago, figuring, you know, I was already neck-deep in the soul-bond tentacle-porn on Ao3, I ought to at least see the source material, even if I expected to find it kind of cringey. (Given that everyone also raved about Ragnarok, and I actually couldn’t watch it because of the cringe, I had reason to worry, but) I absolutely loved it. There was only one moment of genuine cringe, right at the beginning, and from there on, it was, as the internet had assured me, a beautiful, ridiculous rom-com XD Why am I talking about Venom on a story tagged with FMA? Because I’ve spent the last two weeks crossing Venom over with everything. Skyfall, Torchwood, Elementary, Teen Wolf, and, thanks to @furisca, FullMetal Alchemist. So yeah, I have plans for this story (so many fix-it style plans), but I have no idea if I’m going to manage to write them all, where this story is actually going, or how I’m going to end it, but... have the first insane 5K I wrote in an inspired delirium anyway. (Warnings: Character death, severe illness and seizures, sort of body horror? I tried not to make it too gory, but I also had some fun trying to evoke that skin-crawly horror feel, so, yeah.)

Teacher had called it making a deal with the devil, but Ed didn’t believe in any sort of god or devil or anything like that. Alchemy was science, and it was simple. Knowledge was power. The more you knew, the more you could do. If you knew how the pieces fit together, you could twist them and shape them into anything you liked. That was how alchemy worked.

And, sure, the human body was complicated – massively, incredibly, bewilderingly complicated – but it wasn’t unknowable. The knowledge was there, in the very fact that those molecules, those atoms had come together in that way, in that form. The entire equation was there, written into their very existence. Which meant that with enough knowledge, they could fix their mum.

The doctors didn’t know what was wrong. Mum had been sick for years, and no one could tell her what was wrong. She’d tried to hide it at first, but that hadn’t lasted. They might have been young, but they weren’t stupid. They were actually pretty fucking smart, if Ed did say so himself.

It had taken them years of study, of plumbing the depths of alchemy and human biology, but Ed was pretty sure they had their answer at last. Ed had found it in a footnote in one of their deadbeat dad’s journals. In the one explaining the very basics of alchemy. Jotted in the margin of the basic explanation that Ed could recite by heart; Alchemy is the science of understanding the structure of matter, breaking it down, then reconstructing it as something else.

Always, always, they’d been taught, understanding had to come first.

The note in dad’s journal said otherwise.

Deconstruction came first. Understanding only came from taking a thing and pulling it apart to see how it worked.

It was dangerous, of course. Ed understood that. Physically, you could pull a thing apart, and the only negative consequence would be not being able to put it back together again. Pulling a thing apart with alchemy? If you couldn’t understand it quickly enough, thoroughly enough, the backlash would be devastating. They certainly weren’t going to try in on Mum without testing it first.

At least, that was the plan, until Ed sent Al to get them a few drops of Mum’s blood while he double checked their array, and before a minute had gone by, Al screamed; “BROTHER!” Ed dropped the book he was holding, uncaring as to its fate as he rushed upstairs, a horrible sort of anticipatory dread coiling slow and sickening inside him.

Sure enough, when he joined Al in their mum’s room, it wasn’t hard to see why Al had screamed. Mum was- Ed couldn’t think the word, but she was perfectly still, sprawled limply with her eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling, glassy and empty, one arm flung out like she’d been trying to reach for something on the night-stand, and just… switched off half way through the motion.

Ed’s head filled with a litany of denial, and he just stood there, dumbfounded with horror and the terrible creeping certainty that they were too late. Beside him, Al let out a wretched sob, almost a wail, and Ed snapped back into the present. “No.” He said, but this time, it was full of determination and ferocity. “We can still do this.” He announced, startling Al. “Get some chalk, we’re going to have to redraw the array up here.” Ed didn’t think he could handle trying to carry Mum down to the basement like this.

“B-Brother?” Al stammered.

“Chalk!” Ed repeated, and finally saw understanding, hope, and then determination fill his brother’s eyes, too. With a nod, Al bolted out of the room. Ed took the moments he was gone to go and… and check. He tentatively wrapped his hand around Mum’s wrist and pressed his fingers to her pulse. She was still warm, but there was no movement under his fingertips, no pulse.

That knowledge nearly broke him, would have broken him if it hadn’t been for the array all planned out and plotted in the back of his mind. They could do this. They had to. Al returned, breathless and brandishing a whole box of chalks, and they set to work. It took them a while, because the array was so stupidly complicated, and every minute that slipped by was another minute that dragged their mother further and further away from them.

They had to push the bed out of the way to finish it, and then, once it was done, they were forced to face the fact that they needed to move their mother into the center of the array. After sharing a dismayed look with Al, Ed set his jaw, and set to it, stubbornly ignoring the horrible fact of how lifeless the body in his arms was. It wouldn’t be that way for long.

And then it was ready.

“This is going to work, Al.” Ed asserted. Al nodded, eyes burning just as fiercely as Ed’s, and grabbed Ed’s hand, gripping tightly, desperately. Ed squeezed back reassuringly, then let go so he could kneel beside their array. Al followed his lead and, in unison, they reached out and pressed their hands to the edge of the circle, activating their array. Actinic light spilled out as energy crackled through the lines they’d etched painstakingly across the floor of the basement, the force of it whipping their hair about their heads and tugging at their clothes.

The world came apart at the seems.

“Foolish little alchemist.”

Ed jumped, looking around, but there was nothing. Just an endless expanse of pristine white nothingness, stretching out into infinity. He turned around again, and jumped again, because he could have sworn there was nothing there, before, but now? Now he found himself looking up at a huge stone door, etched with a strangely branching tree. “Who- who’s there? Where are you? Where am I?!” Ed blurted out, peering around the sides of the great stone door, but there was only more nothingness beyond it.

“I’m so glad you asked!” The voice responded, but it didn’t sound glad. It sounded bitter. It sounded like Ed did, when he was forced to talk about dad. “I am nothing, and everything. The universe, and the void. I am, and so you are. I am Truth.” Ed spun around again, as the voice seemed to coalesce behind him, and he saw-

He stumbled backwards until his back hit the stone door, incomprehension sending him recoiling. The thing in front of him looked almost human. Two arms, two legs, a head, all in the right places, but wrong. There was no definition, no features, no solidity, just a writhing, amorphous mass of white-on-white that was only barely managing a paltry attempt at a human form. It grinned at him, showing off teeth that would have looked more at home on a piranha than a human, and waved a not-hand at the nothingness around them. “And this, little alchemist, is me.”

A deep, groaning crack reverberated out from behind Ed, and terror seized him. Every fibre of his being was telling him to run, to run and not look back for a second, but he couldn’t help it, he had to know what was there, so he turned, slowly, forcing himself to move one inch at a time, until he could see, out of the corner of his eye, what was behind the door.

Ed screamed.

He tried to scramble backwards, all the while keep his eyes on the incomprehensible writhing mass of strangely geometric viscera teeming and seething within the stone archway. Before he had gone more than two steps, though, his back hit something solid, with just a hint of give to it. Like flesh, but not, too slick, too fluid. He froze. Even the air in his lungs froze.

Two not-hands came up beside his head. He could see them moving just on the edges of his vision, curling round, closing in, and panic stole all rational thought from his mind. “I thought this was what you wanted, you arrogant little shit.” The not human thing behind him crooned, as those hands pressed over his face.

This time, it was Ed that came apart at the seams.

The worst part? The worst part was that he could feel it. He could taste it. Every molecule that broke away from the whole, every atom that was wrenched out of alignment. He knew by taste-feel-weight-texture-vibration what they were and what they did and how they fit. Right down to the plasma in his blood and the bacteria in his intestines, the bile in his liver and the mucous in his lungs. The electricity in his brain and all the little chemicals that strung the whole lot together into a functioning whole. He could feel membranes he hadn’t even known were there, knew the entire topographical structure of his lungs, felt every synapse in his brain as it was taken apart and shown to him. As he was vivisected all the way down to his atoms, until he was nothing more than biological mush. Just a puddle of writhing ooze on a blank white canvas.

And then he was whole again. Whole and gasping for breath as every nerve in his body tingled with visceral euphoria at being together and coherent again. “W-w-wha…” He tried to speak, to ask, to understand, but he couldn’t stop shaking long enough to get the words out.

“Equivalent exchange, little alchemist.” The voice said right into Ed’s ear from where it was standing directly behind him, breathing on his neck. All the hair on his body stood up on end, and he lurched away and around, wanting that thing and it’s teeth where he could see them-

It looked like Alphonse.

Al’s golden hair and Al’s hazel eyes and Al’s button nose and a mouth full of razors in a jagged crescent, splitting his face in two. “You opened the gate. You came here, in your arrogance, to take something from me, and you thought there wouldn’t be consequences?” It demanded, furious and vicious and smug.

“NO!” Ed screamed. He lunged forwards, grabbing the thing that was wearing his brother by the shoulders and shaking it. “GIVE HIM BACK! ALPHONSE!”

The world slipped away and slid back into place, a moment of vertigo and the nothingness was filled in. Ed wasn’t standing, he was half-lying, half-kneeling over Alphonse’s limp form sprawled across their basement floor. He looked like he was sleeping, no sign of those awful teeth or the horror sealed behind a huge stone door except for the way Ed could still half remember what his own brain tasted like.

“A-Al?” Ed breathed, unable to make his voice any louder with the horrible, terrible fear surging through him. Al’s shoulders shifted beneath his hands, moving with the suddenly rapid rise and fall of his chest. “Al?!” Ed called, stronger, more urgent, but the only response he got was not from Al.

There was a gurgling gasp from the center of the array. Ed’s head snapped up, breath caught somewhere in his throat, to stare at Mum. She was moving. She shuddered and arched until her back cleared the floor. “Mum?!” Ed called, not quite willing to let go of Al just yet, but still desperately wanting confirmation that all that horror had been worth it.

Instead, what he got was discordant, reverberating laughter spilling out of his mother’s mouth. Jagged fangs bloomed behind her open lips, and when her eyes opened, they were opalescent white from lid to lid, and getting larger. They spilled out over the edges of her eyelids, while crystalline blue oozed out of her pores, crawling over her skin.

“No…!” Ed breathed, hope turning sour in a heartbeat.

The thing that wasn’t really his mother zeroed in on him, head twisting too far to be natural, and whole body contorting in ways that made Ed want to vomit. “Yes!” She – it – crooned, and the worst part was Ed thought he could almost hear his mother’s voice under the distortion. The monster laughed again, and lunged. Ed didn’t even see it coming, just registered that it was starting to move, and then the next thing he knew, he was pinned to the floor with a monster that used to be his mother looming over him, maw gaping wide and getting closer. “Mum?” Ed begged, even though he had no idea if his mum was even still alive – alive again – in there. “Mum, p-please don’t-!”

The monster paused, jerked forwards – making Ed flinch – only to suddenly fling itself backwards, back into the array. “No.” That was Mum’s voice, ragged and hoarse, but entirely and only Mum’s voice. Ed sobbed before he could stop himself. “You won’t have my boys-! Will. Hungry-! Over my dead body!”

Ed flinched at the words, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the way Mum screamed next, thrashing and convulsing in jerky, jittering motions. There was a crack, followed by another, and then several more in quick succession as Mum’s limbs twisted themselves into unnatural shapes, bones splintering and tearing skin, spilling blood. One last, violent flail was cut short when her head hit the ground with a terrible crunch, and she – it – went still, the blue sinking away back under the skin as the red spilled out, leaving Mum looking like a contortionist’s nightmare, and entirely lifeless once again.

Ed choked on a sob, but his grief was put on hold when Al let out a pained, confused groan. He couldn’t stand – his legs were shaking too much to support his weight, so he half-crawled, half-shuffled back over to his brother’s side, and patted his cheek. Al’s face screwed up, even as his mouth opened on panting breaths. A mouth full of normal, boring, perfectly human teeth.

He cast half a glance over his shoulder towards the… thing in the middle of the array, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to look at it head on before a shudder overtook him and he looked away. Al didn’t need those nightmares as well, he decided, and carefully pulled his brother up and around so his back was towards the middle of the room and they were facing the door.

Al lurched, and for a moment Ed was afraid he was going to fall, but all he did was lean over and throw up weakly onto the floor, one hand slapping down to support himself on an arm that shook violently. “Shit, Al-” Ed choked out, throwing an arm around Al’s shoulders just in time to keep him from collapsing face-first into the pool of his own vomit. Al made an unhappy noise, and dropped his head onto Ed’s shoulder. Ed flinched, because the bare skin of Al’s cheek was burning to the touch, and he could feel that even through his t-shirt. “Oh, fuck-” Ed didn’t need the echoes of everything Truth had shown him to know that that? Wasn’t a good sign.

“B-broth…” Al mumbled weakly, sounding just as tired and pained as Mum did- used to- That was not a comparison Ed wanted to make right now, so he shut that thought down hard. He also tried not to think about how what he desperately wanted to do right now was scream for his mum and have her come soothe them and fix everything, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t because she was dead, and- He shook the thoughts off with a hiccuped back sob, and focused on getting Al out of the room before he came to enough to notice-

Al managed to coordinate his feet enough to be moderately helpful in walking to their bedroom, where Ed tucked him into bed, and Al promptly passed out. Which was good, because Ed knew he couldn’t hold it together much longer. He half stumbled down the stairs and called the only other person he could think of to turn to for help.

“Rockbell Automail.”

“G-granny? Al’s sick.” Ed said, and then choked. It was hard to keep the desperate, panicked sobs in now that he’d said it out loud.

“Edward?” Granny asked sharply.

Ed sobbed once, and then forced it back down, because he needed to be strong, for fuck’s sake. Needed to keep his shit together long enough to get Al the help he needed. “Al’s sick.” He said again, because he couldn’t manage more than that. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll be right there.” Granny promised, and then hung up.

Ed put the phone down with a clatter, and went to check on Al again, only to find him peering blearily at Ed from under the arm he’d flung over his face. “Al?” Ed breathed, relief tinged with desperation. “Al, are you okay?”

“C’n I… food?” He asked plaintively, hiding his eyes in the crook of his elbow again. “M’hungry.”

“Yeah! Yeah, sure.” Ed agreed. Honestly, he would have agreed to just about anything Al asked for, right now. He hurried down to the kitchen and frantically searched for something healthy that wouldn’t need a lot of preparation time. He settled on grabbing an apple for now, and filling a jug with water, and brought them up to Al. “Got you some water as well.” He explained, unnecessarily, as he put them on the bedside table. He poured a glass of water, and helped Al drink it, because his hands were shaking too badly to hold it steady by himself.

Truthfully, Ed’s hands weren’t doing much better, but between them, they managed to get more of the water into Al than on him. Then Ed offered him the apple. Al just about snatched it and sank his teeth into it with alarming voracity. He didn’t stop until the whole thing was gone, core and all. “Al…?” Ed asked tentatively, holding himself very still, uncomfortable visions of a different set of teeth swimming hazily in his mind.

“Brother?” Al echoed, a touch of a tremor in his voice.

Shit. Ed needed to pull himself together, before his freak out made Al freak out. He tried for a smile, and knew it must have fell miles short when Al’s face crumpled. “I guess you’d like another one, huh?” He asked, pulling bravado over the top of his uncertainty.

Al licked his lips. “Somethin’…” He began hopefully. “Some… some of the… th’meat stew?”

“Sure.” Ed agreed. Reheating the stew didn’t take very long, and soon he was back at Al’s side, helping him sit up so he could eat. He got half way through it before his eyes widened and he shoved the bowl towards Ed, turning where he sat so that when he threw up, it ended up on the floor instead of in his lap. “Shit.” Ed said, because what the hell else could he say?

Al looked up, distress writ large across his face, his eyes pleading as they found Ed. “What’s- what’s wrong with m-me?” He asked desperately.

“I don’t know.” Ed admitted, even though he didn’t want to. He now knew exactly how fragile the human body was, what a delicate balance it hung in. There were just too many ways for it to go wrong, and it wasn’t as if the remnants of his knowledge of his own internal workings meant he had any hope of figuring out what was wrong with Al’s.

“What happened?” Al asked next, which wasn’t a very reassuring question.

“I don’t know.” Ed said again, a little more desperately.

Al looked at him with wide, tentative eyes. “Did- Did we- Is Mum…?” He stammered, not quite daring to hope.

It broke Ed’s heart, and his face crumpled up before he could stop it, his whole body shaking with suppressed sobs. It was awful, to watch that barely-there hope drain out of Al’s face to be replaced by the agony of grief. He started to cry, weak but unstoppable, and that just set Ed off, too, years of anxious grief pouring out of them all at once.

Ed pulled himself together first, when he heard Granny open the door and come stomping up the stairs. Al didn’t bother. Granny stopped in the doorway to take them in, and Ed looked over at her with a mixture of desperation and defiance. Granny just clicked her tongue at him. “Go get a mop, pipsqueak.” She ordered, stepping inside and depositing her doctor’s bag on the end of Al’s bed.

Ed hopped up, glad for something to do. “He- he threw up twice.” He said, just before he left. “And he’s got a fever.”

“It’s probably just a bad stomach bug.” Granny assured him.

It could be that, or an infection, or the flu, or any number of his organs could be fucking up, like his appendix or his kidney or his pancreas. Maybe he hit his head and Ed didn’t notice and now he’s bleeding in his brain. Ed stared at her for a long moment, knowing that she could see just how not reassured he was by his expression, before he went to go get the mop.

He cleaned up their room, but even though he knew he ought to, he just couldn’t bring himself to go clean up Mum’s room, too. The memory of what she’d looked like after that- that thing was done with her flashed through his mind and he shuddered on a belated wave of horror, curling his arms around himself and focusing, desperately, on Granny fussing over Al. She was frowning, though, which only made Ed feel worse. “Granny?” He asked, wanting some answers, instead of this nameless, shapeless terror.

Granny glanced at him, then pursed her lips. “I think it’d be best if you boys came to stay at the clinic for a little while, so I can keep an eye on Al. It looks like an infection, which means antibiotics should clear it up, but just to be on the safe side.”

“Okay.” Ed agreed, even though he didn’t like the way Granny said it. He did actually kind of like the idea of not being in this house anymore, with the prickling awareness of what had happened in the other room constantly looming over his head. So he went to bundle Al out of bed and coax him into walking down to Winry’s house, while Granny bustled about getting a few clothes and their over-night stuff together for them.

“Ed…?” Granny called from upstairs once Ed had gotten Al to the front door. She sounded perturbed, but like she was trying to hide it so as not to upset him.

“Yeah?” Ed called back.

“Where’s your mother?”

Ed flinched, memory replaying, and no, no stop it. “In-” He choked, swallowed down the sob. “In her room.”

“No. She’s not.” Granny informed him, tone going sharp.

Ed jolted, looked to Al. Al looked back, frightened and bewildered, but he nodded hesitantly, and let go of the grip he had on Ed’s arm so that Ed could bolt back up the stairs. Granny moved out of his way, and he shoved into Mum’s room even though he really, really didn’t want to. The array was still there, half obscured by a few puddles of half-congealed- something. Not blood. It didn’t smell clean enough to be blood. Just… dead tissue. decomposing biological matter.

The memory of what Truth had done to him came back to him so vividly, so viscerally, that for a moment, Ed was half convinced he was going to simply collapse into his component parts and ooze away through the floorboards. “I-” He choked, unable to shape words through the guilt strangling his insides. “I th-think she dis-dissolved.”

“Dissolved?”

“She was- She wasn’t- We were just trying to- to bring her back, to fix it, but-” Ed shook his head, not wanting to go anywhere near the memory of what had happened.

Granny sighed, long and slow, heavy with her own grief. “Alright, back downstairs with you. Come on. I’ll come back to clean this all up later.” She continued to ramble a stream of reassuring nonsense at him as she chivvied him back downstairs and out of the house. Ed stuck close to Al’s side the whole way, but now that Al was moving, he seemed to be a little better.

Right up until they were standing on the Rockbell’s front porch, and Al just crumpled. Ed didn’t manage to grab him in time, but fell to his knees beside his brother as Al convulsed where he was lying, twitching and spasming like- like- Ed reached out to grab hold of Al in a desperate, useless attempt to try and help, but Granny barked “Don’t!” at him, and he recoiled.

“Why not? He’s-”

“He’s having a seizure, don’t try to hold him still.” Granny informed him briskly. She leaned over and tucked her balled up apron under Al’s head, and then, just… waited.

“There has to be something-!” Ed choked out. Granny just shook her head, leaving Ed to stew in terrified helplessness until Al stopped convulsing and went limp.

“Winry!” Granny called. “Come on, let’s get him inside.” She instructed, and Ed leapt to help pick Al up. Winry appeared in the doorway and gasped, but then her expression set and she moved to help without a single moment of hesitation or distress. Ed was absurdly grateful, because he didn’t think he could handle her upset on top of his own.

They carried Al into the patient room on the ground floor, and then Ed parked himself by his brother’s bedside and refused to be moved. Granny tried to convince him to take one of the guest beds that were semi-permanently reserved for him and Al anyway, but Ed just glared at her, mulish and silent, until she threw her hands in the air and stalked off to get some antibiotics for Al.

Sitting vigil by Al’s bedside was awful, but Ed couldn’t bring himself to move. It was quiet, especially when Winry gave up keeping him company and went to bed, which gave Ed’s brain plenty of space to spin over everything that had happened, everything that had gone wrong in such a short space of time. He thought he might have slept at some point, folded over with his head on his arms on the side of Al’s bed, because that was the only explanation for why he jolted awake in a panic some time later.

The night blurred into the next day. Al woke up enough to eat, which was good, because he was clearly starving, going by how much he ate, but he didn’t seem to be fully aware of where he was or what was going on, and then he went right back to sleep. His fever went up even higher, and Granny made noises about maybe trying a different – stronger – antibiotic.

Maybe if Ed had slept better, he would have thought better of it, but in his wound up state of sleep-deprived anxiety, he threw caution to the winds. He knew, at least in theory, what was supposed to be in the human body, and what wasn’t. It shouldn’t be too hard to draw out an array that would kill the infection without doing Al any real harm.

He snuck out of the patient room and found a spare bit of chalk he or Al must have left lying around the last time they were here, and snuck back into Al’s room. He hovered for a moment by the bed, eyeing the available space, and then turned to crouch down. Before he could, though, a hand shot out and caught his wrist in a bruising grip. Ed yelped and turned to stare at Al, who was glaring at him in uncharacteristic anger.

“Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time?!” The thing that was wearing Al’s face demanded.

Ed choked, wrenching his arm out of it’s grip. Or trying to, because no matter how he wrenched or twisted, he couldn’t get free. “So it is you!” Ed snarled, glaring right back. “Leave him alone! Let him go!” He demanded, furious and despairing.

“We cannot.”

Ed felt as if his chest was caving in under the weight of that simple statement. He sobbed once, twice, and bowed his head over where Al’s – not Al’s – hand was still wrapped around his arm. “Why?” He asked wretchedly. “Why- We did it together, we- it was my idea, so why are you punishing him but not me? Why didn’t you take me instead? You should have taken me instead!” He wailed, begged.

Truth yanked him down, so brutal and sudden that Ed stumbled and fell against the side of the bed, finding himself staring into familiar eyes made alien by the burning ferocity behind them. “Do you mean that?” It demanded, sharp and desperate.

Ed blinked at Al – at Truth – utterly bewildered by the sudden shift from coldly indifferent to blazing intensity. “Of course! He’s my brother, I’d do anything to keep him safe.” He swore. “You can take everything from me, so long as Al’s okay.”

“We cannot reverse all the damage, but without me, he will recover in time.” It informed him, which was so much better than the alternative that Ed didn’t even hesitate to nod. Something moved against his wrist, and when he looked, he saw tendrils, white and writhing and entirely too reminiscent of that place, spilling out of Al’s skin and seeping into Ed’s. The moment the last tendril detached from Al, he went boneless. Ed yelped in horror and scrambled to catch Al’s hand and check his pulse.

It was still there, and when Ed held very still and quiet, he could hear Al breathing, soft and steady. He slumped, all the way down to the floor, and pressed his head against the side of the mattress, trying not to cry and failing.

We need food.

Ed jumped, and looked around, but Truth hadn’t manifested anywhere, except… except inside him. “Fuck you. I’m not leaving Al.” He muttered to himself, relaxing again. And then something other than himself rolled his eyes. “Fuck. You.” Ed growled again, trembling finely and not relaxed at all anymore. If that thing could move his body without his permission…

Deal with the devil, indeed.

51 notes · View notes

natsumiheart · 6 years

Photo

Meet Serena the Ceramist ;)

my danganronpa OC! You may see a lot of her later~

I’m having trouble making an execution for her so feel free to drop ideas after reading the info dump under the cut! (there’s also a lot of sketches of her there)

Oof this character sure took a while to create, died while deciding her color scheme, so glad that I actually ended up deciding on one that I was happy with! you see those two drawings? they took three days of nonstop work XD well stopping for sleep everytime my phone turned off like the dead trash it is of course

Here are the original character sheet and official art from a while ago

her name went from Serena to Selena then back to Serena 😂

Her backstory starts similarly to the German fairy tale “Hansel and Gretel” but modern edition, Serena at the age of 5 and Shizuo at the age of 11 were abandoned in the streets by their parents with some duffel bags of resources (as if it makes what they did better lol), they lived in the streets and climbed a bunch of trees for food until one day Shizuo found a job at a ceramic shop, the owner took pity and let them stay in the attic of said shop and years later he started a successful company (Which Serena was a huge part of due to her natural talent at it! captivating everyone with whatever piece she creates). They started getting enough money to go to school instead of study on their own from the owner’s children’s books that his wife gave to them, Serena studied for a year there until she got a letter to attend hope’s peak as the ultimate ceramist. (Shizuo gave her his bandana when she left, my poor children getting separated ;;)

Because of their past, Shizuo and Serena hate the hell out of their biological parents and hence hate being called by their last names (Just call them by their first names or nicknames instead, they dun mind), and don’t like irresponsible people. Why did their parents have kids if they can't even take care of them? smh. And because she was under the care of her brother, Serena has become quite dependable on him and wants to be more independent. She knows her parents abandoned her and her older brother but she acts as if she doesn’t for his sake. Also! because she has been making ceramics or living in the streets most of her life she’s very cut out from the world, as in doesn’t know the internet or whatever is popular and well known at all XD

Fun fact each ceramic piece represents something, the fox represents her spirit animal which describes some stuff about her like the fact she’s agile and tackles life with a passion, the bird ceramic represents the company she works for as the logo on her apron is a bird! The galaxy pot represents her love for astrology, the stars and all her knowledge about horoscopes and tarot cards. The cherry plate is because she is obsessed with cherries, just anything that is cherry flavored! the cup is the lamest one, it’s just there cause that’s the type of stuff she can mass produce. The cherry blossoms in the back is cause she likes spring and summer plus her secret desire to be with someone, the fascination of romantic stuff like the Japanese love umbrella XD

If you made it this far good job! ill hold on the info dump for now cause I'm wondering who would read all that

now enjoy the sketches 😂

Front and back view!

Some sprites but not really (going to draw a lot more poses for her later! maybe with an actual full sprite)

nO thAt’S wRonG! (old concept sketches, will redraw later! I have the middle of the screen pop up objection concept sketch but it’s too bad to put here, almost as bad as that counter 😂)

and that’s all I’m willing to show! other sketches suck too much PFF

#DR wonderland #my art #Serena Kamui #Shizuo Kamui #danganronpa #making a tag for her cause ill be posting a lot more of her later!#damn execution i just cant come up with anything good #i need pre game shuichi for this HAHAHAAHAH #may make art of her with shuichi and kokichi later?#she will definitely be drawn with a certain someone's oc! you know who you are! ;)

138 notes · View notes

wall-krawler · 6 years

Text

Chapter 3- Cliché High

Midtown High School. The only interesting fact about the school is that over the last two years they’ve remodeled the lockers to make it impossible for a kid to get locked in. Kudos to the school board for trying to cut down on bullying. However, bullying came in all shapes and sizes. Midtown High was unfortunately a victim to these creative bullying techniques.

Terrik Cortez made it clear a long time ago that he was a smart bully. He avoided doing anything physical in front of witnesses, created untraceable dummy accounts to pick on those he deemed were “punks”, and somehow he came off as a class clown instead of a total ass.

Spoiler alert. He’s always an ass.

So when everyone was sitting through their mind numbing calculus class and there was an opened mouth sleeper, the set up was too perfect for Terrik not to take advantage of it.

“Watch this.” Terrik whispered to some of his friends, drawing in their attention as he began to crush a piece of paper down to a tiny ball. They all begin to smile as he turned around to check out his target. With their mouth open and head resting against the chair it made things too easy.

“Ay Beans!” He called out, stopping the teacher from talking and gaining everyone else’s attention. The kid only stirred until the wad of ball was thrown right into his mouth.

“Ah??” He jumps lightly in his seat, startled as his eyes opened suddenly and his mouth clamped down onto the wad of paper. Because they were in calculus this was treated like the funniest comedy skit ever seen. When in reality it was just embarrassing. It only got worse...

“Mr Dean,” The teacher sighed, he looked so tired and at this point there was no point in yelling. “Please just...spit it out.”

Marcus Dean, a seventeen year old doofus, got up and did the walk of shame towards the trash can. It wouldn’t be so bad if this wasn’t the eleventh time he’s had to do this. Marcus was one of Terrik’s favorite victims.

“Sorry Mr Cripe, it-“

“-Won’t happen again, yeah I know.” The teacher cut him off before going back to scribbling sloppy notes. He was quick to get back to doing his real job. Remember how the school board was trying to cut down on bullying? Yeah...that was a failed attempt.

🕷🕷🕷🕷

Marcus has always known that he blended in too well with the background. He wasn’t popular due to avoiding sports and he never rocked the hottest outfits. He’d rather wear a pair of jeans with a jacket instead of a jumpsuit. But that set aside he just couldn’t figure out why he felt so basic.

And yet somehow, as basic as Marcus claimed to be, his best friends were the exact opposite. They were the only reason why he kept showing up to school.

“Marcus, why?” Ethan held up his phone to show a repeating gif of Marcus waking up and “swallowing” the piece of paper. It wasn’t well made but apparently it got a lot of views.

“Do I really look like that?” Marcus questioned, not realizing how messy his hair was until he watched the video. He subconsciously reached up to touch the wavey mess, trying to flatten it a little while sliding his backpack on.

Ethan Just rolled his eyes but smiled, appreciating his friends lack of worry. “Yes, you’ve looked like this since freshman year dude.” He aggressively ran his hand through Marcus hair which resulted the two getting into a playful fight.

Marcus honestly wouldn’t be able to explain how he became friends with one of the coolest Jocks at their school. Ethan was taller, more muscular, and he had that charm to him. Maybe it was the intimidating muscles that flexed through his tight shirts but the girls just swooned over him. In a way he was also cliché but in the way Marcus wanted to be.

As the two were making their way down the hallway a third squeezed in between the two with their overly large curly ponytail. This was Toni.

Again something was being forced into Marcus full view as they walked. “I saw the gif, it was poorly made but funny enough to redraw.” Toni chuckles as she held up her sketchbook. In the middle of unreadable notes was a little doodle of Marcus sleeping with drool hanging from his lip as a ball was being tossed into his mouth.

“This is so mean. I’m not a recycle bin.” Marcus faked being hurt as he read the sloppy words written on the doodle’s shirt. In reality he was wearing an Atari shirt, one that she despised. She liked to call him a fake 80’s fan.

Toni huffed before shuttering her book closed, letting Ethan chuckle first. “Yeah but your shirt deserves to be in one.” She threw shade, not caring how it came out. Which really spoke a lot about who she was. Toni’s was more color expressive. Her giant Afro was platinum blonde and she went out of her way to wear her own tagged work. Pants and jean jackets all had running spray paint stains. She was a cool hipster cliché. The kind Marcus wanted to be.

“Hey don’t bash too hard, gotta save your best material for tomorrow when he’s being a super nerd.” Ethan told Toni, smirking as he reminded them about the trip that was scheduled for the next day.

Marcus eyes light up as he rememberers. “That’s right! The Oscorp trip is going to be so cool.” He said excitedly, recalling all the new information he read on their websites. “Four levels of the building is being showed off to the public for the first time in like ages. We’ll be the first to see what they’ve been working on.”

“See? Super nerd.” Ethan teases as Marcus lightly shoves him. But even though Ethan picked on the shorter friend he truly did see the excitement in the field trip. He just didn’t understand the level of excitement Marcus was on.

Toni seemed to just shrug, not necessarily caring about Oscorp or what they were doing. “Those places are all talk until they accidentally create something decent. That’s how most of those places operate.” She did a little shuffle walk to avoid tripping over her loose shoe laces.

“I don’t know, I’ve just always thought they’ve seemed...secretive.” Marcus imagined a person for a moment before shaking the thought away. He knew who it was but he didn’t want to deal with that right now. “Plus, it’ll be fun.”

The other two mumbled in response to it being fun but they didn’t diss their friend for trying to make the trip seem less lame. It clearly meant something to him so they respected that. “We’ll see Dean.” Toni patted the boys on the back before making her escape through one of the schools many exits. Continuing her daily skip.

“Welp, there she goes again.” Ethan commented. They were used to seeing her skip their last hour but it never stopped being funny when she would get caught. “Think they’ll assign her a truancy officer?”

“Maybe.” Marcus smiled as he watched Toni’s blond poof bob up and down as she tried to stealthy run off school grounds. “But they’ll have to catch her first.”

The late bell rings and the two quickly rush to their last period, not being as stealthy as Toni. But at least now Marcus didn’t feel as lonely as he did earlier. All because of his best friends. They made him feel like a good Cliché.

🕸🕸🕸🕸

#spiderman #spidersona #fanfic #fanfiction #Midtown high

4 notes · View notes

feroluce · 6 years

Text

TatST - Ch 1: Secrets

For Day 1: Secrets of Ritshou Summer Week by @shouritshou! Please enjoy the first chapter of Together at the Same Time!

Warnings: Major character death, violence, injuries, blood, concussions

Shou is acting weird. Like, weird even for Shou.

Ritsu wakes up to the smell of meat cooking in his nose.

He fumbles for his phone, something that's become the first part of his daily routine since he convinced his parents to get it for him last year. A quiet chime plays as it unlocks, Ritsu sleepily rubbing at his eyes until his ceiling looks less blurred. He can already see out his glass door that it's going to storm later...maybe he'll just stay in bed for a while longer. He can still smell breakfast cooking and it's making his stomach growl, but he doesn't want to leave his warm bed yet. Ritsu pulls the blankets up to his ears as he rolls onto his stomach and tries to ignore the little pang in his heart when there are no new messages from Shou. Because really, it shouldn't be that much of a let down. He's probably not even awake yet. Shou tends to stay up late and sleep in late, doubly so on weekends. So it's completely normal to not have a new message and he shouldn't be so disappointed. Ritsu's phone signals a new text message and he snatches it up to check his notifications in record time. Dammit. Damn Shou and his handsome face and his cute freckles and the new pang in Ritsu's heart that is the exact opposite of disappointment but just as unwelcome and painful. Shou: We're going somewhere today! I'll come pick you up! Shou: And don't skip bfast it's bad for you The first one isn't unusual. Shou is restless and he is always finding something to do. The second text, though, is...oddly specific. Ritsu widens out his psychic senses just to make sure Shou isn't hiding somewhere with his invisibility (which also isn't unusual). He can't Feel Shou sneaking around anywhere, although that doesn't always mean anything. His ability to hide his presence rivals Shigeo's and supposedly Reigen's.

Reinvigorated with the promise of an adventure, Ritsu rolls himself out of bed and drags his feet across the carpet. He wonders if he should bother to bring an umbrella or not. It might just be in the way.

Shou: Don't bring your umbrella btw you'll just lose it

Shou: And wear shoes without laces

Ritsu sticks his head into Shigeo's room on his way by, just to make sure Momozou hadn't come by to visit without him knowing. There's only one futon on the floor, though, with one head of black hair poking out. Telepathy and invisibility make for a horrifying stealth combo.

Me: Why are you being so specific.

Shou: Just a feeling

Shou: Don't worry about it

Ritsu is torn between not worrying about it and knowing better until he walks in on Shou in the middle of picking his outside door’s lock.

“Ricchan! Lemme in, we're going somewhere today and we need to get going!” Shou looks up at him from where he's kneeling and his stupid grin is so bright that Ritsu wonders for a moment if the storm clouds cleared up. And he considers it, he really does…

“Why should I?” But sometimes Ritsu feels like being difficult.

“C'mon, I came all the way out here! Don't be a dick.”

“Impossible. I'm always a dick.”

Shou snorts at him. The sound doesn't carry through the glass, but Ritsu knows the face he makes when he does it. “Yeah, well, y’are whatcha eat, I guess.”

Ritsu pulls the curtain shut.

The indignant “Awww, c’mon, it was funny,” is muffled by the thick fabric. Ritsu had just recently reset that lock, he reasons he has at least a couple minutes before Shou gets it figured out. He's just barely finished stepping into his shoes, though, when the door slides open and Shou breezes in, bringing in the smell of rain. He's getting too good at that.

"So where exactly are we going?" Ritsu always asks when Shou just shows up to whisk him away like this, but he had stopped caring about an actual answer over a year ago. Shou can make even mundane, boring things exciting. He could say they were just going to the corner store and it would still be fun. So it doesn't matter what the answer is, because Ritsu will follow along regardless.

"Places." Ritsu side steps to make room for the eventual circuit that Shou will make through his room. Even though they see each other almost every day now, Shou always walks by his bookshelf to look at the framed pictures sitting there. Or maybe he just scans the book spines, trying to figure out which one might be Ritsu's journal. "I found some pretty cool abandoned stuff past Mud Boat Mountain. Like they just half bulldozed some tourist places and then left them!" Shou stops in front of Ritsu's desk, leaning back against it with his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. He doesn't pace, doesn’t play with any of the pens on Ritsu's desk, doesn’t even look at the shelves.

The sudden break in routine is more than enough to remind Ritsu of the strange text messages from that morning.

Shou is acting weird. Like, weird even for Shou.

And he only realizes it more and more as Shou babbles about whatever he's found out in the mountain ranges. There's something off about his rhythm, about the way the words roll off his tongue. And Ritsu isn't sure of exactly what it is, but he can pick out that it's wrong. It maybe wouldn't be wrong coming from anyone else, but it's wrong for Shou and at least to Ritsu, Shou isn't just anyone else, he's Shou.

And Shou does eventually move, but it's only to steal a jacket out of the closet. The one that's changed hands so many times between the two of them that Ritsu can't even remember who it belonged to first.

Something like unease settles into Ritsu's gut, twisting up his insides.

It only gets worse from there. When they both leave the house, Shou keeps finishing Ritsu's sentences or answering questions before he's even done asking them. And this isn't unheard of, Shou can read Ritsu like an open book after so much time, but it's never been to this extent. Part of it makes Ritsu nervous simply because it's something new with no obvious explanation, but the other part worries that this means Ritsu is just that obvious. How much as Shou figured out about him recently? Does he know about Ritsu's Secret and that's why he's acting strange? Does Shou know that he likes him? "Yo, Earth to Ritsu!" Right. The convenience store. Snacks for on the way. It's not until they're back on the route to Mud Boat that Ritsu realizes he hadn't grabbed the salt water taffy he always brings home with him. He really is preoccupied. "Hey...Shou, hold on, I forgot Nii-san's candy." "Eh? Isn't he gone for the weekend, anyway?" Ritsu has just opened his mouth to answer that no, where did Shou even get that idea, when his phone trills in his pocket. Shige: I'll be gone when you get home. Shishou needed help and Serizawa is still out of town. Be back Monday. Ritsu's blood chills, bits of it clogging up his brain and trapping his thoughts in a clotted-off loop. Something is wrong. Something is really, really, wrong.

"Shou... Shou, how did you-?" "Peach ring?" When he looks up from his phone, Shou is suddenly a lot closer, holding a piece of candy up to his face. His eyes have gone from warm to overbearing, something that burns so hot and bright the flame has gone blue. Ritsu knows when he's being told not to ask. He opens his mouth again only to bite the peach ring out of Shou's fingers. ○●●○●●○ Now that he knows Shou is keeping Secrets, too, Ritsu goes on high alert, his feeling of everything being off-kilter only multiplied from before. "And so then- Then I told this guy that if he didn't speak- If he didn't start talking, I was really gonna light a fire under him-" "Shou, oh my god." It's a little hard to concentrate on that, though, when Shou is holding his hand because touching makes it easier to keep them both invisible. This didn't used to rile him up nearly as much as it does now. His only comfort is the fact that Shou can't see him, either. When the bus finally pulls up to the last stop at the base of the mountain, they both drop down to the ground without breaking hold, Shou kicking against the window and cackling when the people inside startle. Ritsu wonders if Reigen is going to get a call on Monday about evil spirits riding on top of public transport and messing with the passengers. The bus pulls away and Shou drops the invisibility and Ritsu drops their hands and turns before Shou can notice if his face is as unbearably red as it feels.

"...C'mon, it's not too much farther now." Ritsu is pretty sure he's just imagining the disappointed tone in his voice. Shou guides him up the mountain side, occasionally grabbing his sleeve to stop him from taking specific paths because trust me, Ritsu, you'll just give yourself a concussion like a dumbass. Ritsu bites his tongue and doesn't argue against it. When they float up the last bit of cliffside, they're greeted by a few run down old buildings, sides caved in and toppled by time and creeping vines. Their walls spill out like entrails, littering the ground with wood and glittering broken glass. "Pretty cool, eh?" Ritsu has to admit, it is pretty cool. They both walk forwards and it takes Ritsu a moment to place why the act itself is so weird. He's grown familiar with the sight of Shou's back, he could redraw the freckles on the nape of his neck almost as well as he could the ones on his face. Because Shou is always leading and Ritsu is always content to follow wherever Shou might lead him. But now Shou is all but glued to his side, shorter legs working to keep pace. He's keeping him close, keeping an eye on him, and Ritsu doesn't know what to think about that. And the longer they go on exploring their new discovery, the more antsy Shou seems to get. He's always energetic, always doing something, but it's never with this uncharacteristically nervous or paranoid feel to it. Shou keeps checking the time on his phone, he turns towards any sound that he can't immediately see the source of. His nerves are fraying like old rope. "Ritsu." He startles, because Shou hadn't said anything in a while and his jumpiness is starting to rub off on him. "Be quiet a sec. Don't move." They both go perfectly still until Shou's head whips towards the ceiling. Ritsu's eyes follow and then he can hear it, too, creaking along the old rubble. Footsteps. "Ok..." Shou's voice drops to a whisper. "Ritsu, put up a barrier. Thick as you can. On my mark. Three..." Ritsu tenses up, aura manifesting around them both in refractile bluepurplepink. "Two..." Shou drops his stance, reaching out and grabbing Ritsu to pull him closer until his concentration nearly stutters. "One!!" Ritsu's barrier balloons around them and too many things happen all at once for him to keep track of them all. Something drops in from the ceiling and something else swings in from the window and- Shou suddenly has Ritsu behind him backed in a corner and the desk near them flies open and stuff comes pouring out the drawers- And the entire desk goes hurtling across the room and someone screams and glass shatters and wood splinters- Something collides with his barrier and it pops like a bubble and then- And then Shou is being ripped screaming out of his hands- And suddenly there's a fist in his face and it isn't Shou’s because Ritsu knows what Shou’s fists look like, especially when they're right in his face, and this one isn't Shou's- Ritsu is dragged out and away through a hole in the wall and halfway through the woods all at once before he can get his bearings, but he lashes out as soon as he does. Practiced weak spots, eyes, nose, throat, solar plexus, hands wreathed with aura and one fist shoved up under the ribs before both hammer down onto the back of the person's bowed head. Ritsu sends them flying, maybe into a tree, maybe over a fucking cliff, he doesn't care, it doesn't matter as long as they're not in the way because he needs to get back to Shou. He races back to the old building and Shou is standing close to where they'd been before, visible through a massive hole blown in the wall of the second floor, Ritsu isn't even sure it was there before, but oh thank god he's still standing and he's alright. Shou pulls the hood of their jacket up one-handed right before he sways backwards and plummets. It's such a short fall that Ritsu only barely manages to grab him with telekinesis right before he crashes into all the debris below and that in itself scares him even more, because Shou doesn't even try to catch himself, he just falls and he's completely limp as he dangles in the air. Ritsu eases him down as gently as he can, but he can feel his heartbeat in his ears and it's making his control shaky. It isn't until he has him laying flat on the ground that Shou's eyes peer open again. "Shou! What happened, did you get hit? Are you bleeding? Where does it hurt? Is your head alright?" And Shou just blinks up at him like he's trying to recalibrate, turquoise irises rolling like compass needles until they realign with their true north and settle on Ritsu's face. "Ritsu...you did it. I knew you'd pull through on your end." When he smiles, his teeth are stained pink. "They have a bad habit of...of underestimating you." Shou's arm comes up and pats his cheek, but it's only the left one. His right stays crooked on the ground. Ritsu's eyes catch on the red starting to pool under his back, under his head, and the sight tangles in the spokes of his brain until the wheels grind. "Don't." Shou's hand, the only good one left, grabs Ritsu's wrist before he can reach the zipper to get a look at where the jacket is soaked to his skin. "Ritsu, just...just trust me. Don't." He doesn't stop Ritsu from calling an ambulance at least, even though he's starting to fear there's no point in it. Shou's teeth are starting to chatter and Ritsu's heart and lungs are starting to spasm and he's bleeding out all over the ground and- "Listen to me. L-Listen. Ritsu." Shou stops to grit his teeth and spit blood. "Ricchan. It's all...everything's gonna be ok. I can do this. I'll do...I'll get i-it right next time. I was so close this time. Ricchan, it's gonna be ok." "...You knew." Shou had been acting weird all day long. Like he already knew everything that would happen. "Shou, you asshole, you were keeping Secrets, you knew, and you still- You still...!" "Which is why...I know that everything's gonna...gonna be ok." Ritsu finally makes himself look Shou in the eye. He still looks dazed, his pupils mismatched in size. Concussion. "C'mere. My head is...it hurts. I...pillow." Ritsu manages to get Shou's head on his lap, desperately trying to ignore the sticky wetness seeping into his jeans. He figures it's the least he can do. "Ricchan. Tell me-e-e...tell me a, uh, a story." "You seriously want...?" "Mm. Tell me...haha, tell me about the time...about when Kamuro and, and Tokugawa tried to...catch Momozou ditching." "I...Shou, you already know that story. You were there for some of it." "I know... It's, uh...a good memory. I love...like the way you, you tell it." Shou settles in while Ritsu recites something from back in middle school, Kamuro and Tokugawa deciding tardiness was their new target and Momozou was the worst in Salt Mid. "So Shinji is still hanging halfway out the window and... Shou. Sh-Shou, stay awake." "Mm." He doesn't open his eyes again. "Keep...going. Still listening..." Ritsu closes his eyes, too, because that way he can almost pretend this is just another night where one of them had a nightmare and went crawling into the other's bed and he doesn't have to watch his vision swim. "And...and Hikaru is trying to, to pull them both back in, but Momozou is so d-damn big and heavy that...th-that..." Ritsu squeezes his eyes shut tighter. He's not sure he wants to see.

"Shou...?" Nothing answers him but his own hiccuping breaths. "Shou, c'mon, you shouldn't...you're not supposed to sleep with a concussion. You can't..." He can't do this to him is what he wants to say, but he already knows it's pointless because there's no one there to hear it, because Shou is a fucking liar and he had said that everything was gonna be ok and Ritsu didn't even get to tell him his own Secret and nothing about this is even remotely ok. One hand clenches in the sleeve of their shared jacket and the other clamps over his eyes until it makes kaleidoscope patterns on the inside of his eyelids. He and Shou weren't supposed to be separated, they did everything together, they were a pair, he doesn’t want to imagine having to look forward and not seeing Shou's back like always because Ritsu is the only one he trusts to watch his back. They weren't ever supposed to be apart. Something bright burns beyond his eyelids and it's the only reason Ritsu peeks out between his fingers. Orange, yellow, and pink, an aura he knows almost as well as his own, but now in the shape of a person. Two wide white eyes slowly open across its face, meeting his gaze head on. Shou's ghost is sitting in front of him, staring at him. Ritsu watches, partly mesmerized and partly horrified, as he cups his hands together and something builds there, crackling with energy. Shou's eyes crinkle up like they do when he smiles and suddenly everything starts to pull. Nothing looks like it's moving, but Ritsu can feel it, like he's being sucked in, like his very soul is being forced out of him through a straw. Everything is compressed, crushed, crumbled down to crumbs as it's drawn into the tiny black hole held carefully in Shou's cupped hands. He can feel the world condensing into a single point, the preparation for a new universe because the best thing about this one was dead and gone. And Ritsu swears, just at the last possible second before the big bang, that he feels Shou's heart jolt beneath his fingertips.

34 notes · View notes

silviascorcella · 8 years

Text

Fashion Conversation: LEE WOOD - L72

Contemplare le sue creazioni, e intanto scoprire dalle sue parole garbate quel che racchiudono, regala la soffusa sensazione di trovarsi come di fronte ad un’opera di pittura intimista, dove le composizioni quiete di luce morbida e colori nitidi sono invero un loquacissimo sguardo sulla realtà.

Lui è Lee Wood e il suo brand L72 rappresenta un’avventura stilistica molto recente, ma che ha già conquistato il vasto plauso del pubblico e trionfato, tra le altre, sulla pregiata passerella di Who is On Next?

La sua moda racchiude percorsi compositi che per buona parte si sono svolti al fianco di Donatella Versace. Una moda che oggi si racconta attraverso la più nobile e sovversiva forma di lusso: la libertà.

[ENGL.]

Going through his creations, and in the meantime discovering from his nice words what they encompass, makes you feel like being in front of a piece of intimist art painting, where the quiet combinations of tender light and vivid colors are indeed a very eloquent glaze on reality. He is Lee Wood and his brand L72 represents a very recent stylistic adventure, but that has already won the ample plaudit of the public and triumphed on the prestigious stage of Who Is On Next? contest. His fashion universe embraces multi-faceted paths, that to a great extent took place alongside Donatella Versace. A fashion universe that today reveals itself through the noblest and most subversive kind of luxury: freedom.

Tell us about yourself and your background: when did the very first encounter with fashion happen and how did it become your professional way? I’m English, born and raised in the countryside near Reading, in the Berkshire county, along the famous River Thames. After the compulsory education I decided to start following my artistic path by entering The Berkshire College of Art & Design, where I studied art, fashion and design. So, when I was 19, I decided to move to London in search of a job and new horizons. I remember two incisive moments concerning my approach in fashion: the first one, when I was a child and my mum, coming back from a ski holiday, was wearing a custom-made dove gray mink coat. That was the first time I ever saw anything like that closely, and that, especially, I could even touch it. So my mum, all proud, showed me the lining with her initials jacquard-woven … I couldn’t believe it, it seemed like a miracle! The second moment was when I went with my mother (it’s always her fault!) to the hairdresser: while waiting for her turn, she was reading some fashion magazines and I gazed at those pictures so glossy, so impeccable, so far from my world, and my mind ran formulating a thousand ideas and as many thoughts. My career began in London, when I started to be the assistant of the stylist David Thomas: it’s thanks to him that one night I had the chance to meet Kinder Aggugini that, in his turn, introduced me to Donatella Versace.

How, why and with what style vision was your label L72 born? My brand comes from my urge to give voice to my personal aesthetic. I’m a reserved person, rather quiet and loner, but inside me my imagination continuously creates, wherever I am and all hours of the day. I’m like a Marcello Piacentini’s building: rigorous, symmetrical, neat, but with the interiors designed by Lorenzo Castillo. After 16 years at Versace, I felt the need for trying new creative ways. I had decided to open my own design consulting studio in 2013 when, while I was making some samples for promoting my activity, I realized that I was subconsciously laying the foundation of my own line. I spoke with different people and friends within the sector and the feedback was more than positive, everybody said I was crazy! I was happily surrounded by products speaking a common language, that could be a total look, without even thinking of it, it was pure instinct. Thus, the things that had been existing in my fantasy for years became concrete and my vision became real. At that point I could not come back anymore !

Your own creative world is instinctual, beauty is a personal point of view, materials are the issue of experimentations and entrepreneurship is essential: what do these elements entail and how does their harmony happen in your fashion? For me everything is connected, I’m always present in my job and in every planning phase of the creative path. I don’t like staying at the desk, I prefer staying around instead, with the suppliers, at the studios, with the printer, at the photography studio to work together and “get my hands dirty” with the people helping me to realize my dream. And it’s thanks to them too, their energy, experience and diligence, if today I am here: every day I learn something new, and this is my nourishment. Today being creative is not enough, unfortunately: our world has become too much complicated and contradictory. You can’t create if you don’t have a support structure; you can’t have a support structure if you don’t have the resources and if you don’t have the resources you can’t make a production that would allow you to produce the next season … as they say in Italy “a dog chasing its own tail”! The expectations have become so much high and strict, accompanied by a very frantic pace of life, that there is a strong risk of implosion. Today a fashion designer must be also a manager, director, sales representative, and self-assistant: that’s crazy! I pay attention to the business and numbers: I’ve been working for 22 years as a salesman and creative director, I would be fool if I wasn’t concerned with the business aspect too, I have a lot of experience and I’d like to improve more and more, but doing things right takes a lot of time and energy and I often find myself leaving the creative part aside for the nights or weekends, when the rest of my world rests and grants me the silence and peace I need to think clearly. My instinct is strong, when I draw my first thought is always the right one for me: if I linger on too much developing and redrawing, I always end up going back to the beginning. I love neat and graphic fashion, the proportions and the blending of male and female: a sort of “uniform for the future”, a combination of history and street.

Describe your last collection: what kind of inspiration does it originate from and how does this imagery take tangibly form within the creations? The spring/summer collection is called “Primary”: the concept of starting from zero. Last February (2015) I launched my brand with an exclusive press presentation, the project was called “Collection Zero: Non Conditioned”, so I was really starting from zero for the summer production. It’s a journey inside my childhood, moments where I became aware of the world I was in, a pure and instinctive approach, when colors enthralled me and at the same time taught me the chromatic circle, that the primary colors, red, yellow and blue were the main base for all the color blocks, like when I was a kid and I played with Legos, or rather I had fun organizing them by color. I thought to juxtapose this idea of nostalgia with a reflection on the expression of the time we’re living in, so it’s not only a mere memory of my naïf world. I added an embroidery made of real mini-disks: a while ago we used to think that CDs and mini-disks were so futuristic, but today almost no one touches music anymore, CDs have already turned old and young people think they’re something outdated. Our world changes so quickly and the primary colors of that time, my RGB, today are different because our reality is enclosed in a 2.0 world that broadcasts images and colors through the light. Today the main colors are red, green and blue. Ultimately, between a picture you hold in your hand or the same picture that you can see by Internet apparently nothing changes, but I know that the base is truly different.

One name inside and one outside the fashion world you would love to work with? Inside the fashion world I would really love to collaborate with Melanie Ward. I already had the chance to meet her and work with her when she was working with Versace: I really love her style, she’s English like me, and I think that her sensibility marries beautifully with my aesthetic. Whereas, outside the fashion world I’d say Olafur Eliasson, the Danish artist, I think he’s absolutely brilliant. His works begin with a different perspective on our world through lights, colors and science. They’re studies involving the environment to emphasize “hyper reality” concepts: his art captivates me, moves me, amazes me and destabilizes me at the same time, but gladly. I get a powerful and harmonious vibe from it, but with strong social messages.

Beauty will save the world, a renowned quote holding some truth for those who create fashion: what is your ideal about beauty? Will beauty really save the world? How can we categorize beauty in order to realize, then, if that kind of “beauty” could be our salvation? It’s so compelling, personal, it doesn’t mean we want to rely on beauty as if it was a religion, hell no! As for me, the idea of beauty must be dissected and employed depending on the subject. The proportions of a dress, the finishing of a table, a woman walking on the street, the sound of an instrument, things that people may even not like, meanwhile. But we all have our point of view, luckily! Perfection doesn’t exist, thank goodness; here’s what I think is good, the fact that imperfections exist and when we’ll be aware and at peace with this thought, we’ll finally get free from the so called “classic standards” that only bother me. I think nature gets close to perfection, it has its own balance that makes it unapproachable and mystical; but then the human being arrives and thinks he can enhance it, but he only makes disasters, as he often does for himself trying to reach “beauty”. Last summer I worked with MEG for her tour where she featured the album “Imperfezione”: we hit it off, we have several things in common. In an interview she states “I suddenly realized that the possible takes place within the imperfection and not within perfection, that is an abstract world, strict, an archetype, always the same as itself” and this is what we must convey to the world, the diversity, and teach the young people to accept themselves and their neighbor. This is my idea of beauty. A nice, respectful, natural creature.

If I say “imitation of life” (the theme of this Hachi Mag issue n.d.r.): what comes into your mind? I believe that what we’re living is an “imitation of life”. There’s something so insane in our today’s world that I can not think otherwise. I don’t think that this can be considered life, but that we’re literally surviving. We’re conditioned, directed, fed, driven by people and mechanisms that don’t want our prosperity. The world has turned into a game of powers and abuses and our lives are put on the line to bolster a media spectacle that can make us believe the unbelievable, and keep us quiet. As for me, life is something else.

Among the accolades received and the exquisitely personal dreams: what are your projects for the future? My first thought is to continue working, learning and living the best life I can: maybe this is a little fanciful vision, but it’s true. For my brand, I would be able to develop a well-established business that can create the L72 lifestyle by extending the product categories in order to include various licences. Then, if I could dream, think freely without any limits … I would love to buy a plot of land in the countryside and build a brand new home where I could live in complete peace with a lot of animals, where I could finally resume my love of horseback riding and keep on creating from a studio overlooking the hills.

Silvia Scorcella

[Published on Hachi Magazine issue n°4]

#hachimagazine #hachi magazine #hachi mag #lee wood #l72 #fashion designer #made in italy #intervista #interview #new talents #emerging talent #upandcoming #talenti emergenti #fashion writer #rivista indipendente #editoria indipendente #independent magazine #talents room

0 notes