#gods i really want to see art of them covered in tattoos now

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC Tattoos and Crimelords

Just this idea I had that’s kind of cute

Jason doesn’t feel comfortable in his body, in his own skin. He hasn’t since he came back to life. It’s something he just had to deal with while working on his plans, but now that the dust has settled and he’s actually living a life again, it weighs on him. 

the thing that bothers him the most is the autopsy scar

So despite what he knows Bruce would say, he wants a tattoo. A mark he can choose, to reclaim his body as his own. Sure, it’s a very distinctive mark that could connect his civilian identity with his night life, but his armor covers almost all of his skin. If someone can see his body like that, he is probably already not in a good situation.

Danny is a tattoo artist. His hero days are long behind him, and having barely scraped through high school because of the ghosts, he didn’t have a lot of options. He spent some time traveling with Dani, backpacking across the world, moving from one grand adventure to the next. They had gone to the convention on a whim. Danny had been amazed at the artwork and skill of the tattoo artists there. There was something so beautiful about it all, beyond just the artwork. He could see the love of the craft these artists shared, and the joy and pride their clients had to be wearing their art. 

Danny wanted that to be him.

Danny managed to snag an apprenticeship with one of the artists there. He was a Gotham native and if Danny wanted to learn from him, Danny needed to live n Gotham. So Danny did. Dani, parted ways with him, still not done with her journey, but she promised to visit.

That was a few years ago, now Danny was happy where he was in his (half)life. Covered in ink with his own shop. 

And then an absolute tank of a man walked in by the name of Jason, wanting his first tattoo.

or

Danny became a tattoo artist and Jason decides to get some ink in an effort to reclaim his body. As Jason’s collection of tattoos grows, something grows between him and his artist. Is it friendship, or something more?

[ccrites]

i've been thinking of getting a tattoo for a long time, not only because i want to, but also to cover an old stick'n'poke i got when i was 15.

and so it got me thinking of the 141 tattoo artist!au. and oh boy.

Kyle would be an absolute sweetheart. not judging the stupid decisions a teenager made. more like "you wanted a tattoo and you went out of your way to get it, that's awesome. now how about we enhance it instead of covering it, whaddya think pretty girl?" and he'd draw around it, incorporate it into his art, go over the parts that are faded and uneven, then, when he's finished, wipe it gently and go "there, what should've been your first real tattoo" with his blinding smile and a promise to also be the one to do your next one

Johnny would be excited about finding creative ways to make parts of the stick'n'poke incorporate into other elements, make it so you'd never know it was there. but he's also a bit of a freak! making sort of mean comments about, "such a stupid decision, you were but a wee lass and ye didn't know what you wanted! thank god Johnny's here ta' fix ya'". It doesn't help that the tattoo you got was somewhere hidden, somewhere your parents wouldn't see on summer vacation (think where your underwear would cover it, or under your bra straps!) and he'd be such a creep! Sitting closer than absolutely necessary, looking at you too intensely. At the end, he'd suggest a truly hidden tattoo, "Only for me to see, bun, whaddya say?"

Ghost would be the type to frown behind the mask and look at you meanly, and you're afraid that he'd judge you for doing this kind of thing (you had your reasons, okay? some rough period in your life, you needed catharsis, and you were too young to get a real tattoo) and he'd be really condescending, all "there's a reasons youngins can't get them. Cuz' it's a stupid decision to make." and he'd huff and draw the most exquisite art you'd seen, all black, bold lines, and way, way bigger than necessary to cover the small tattoo. If the tattoo was on your hip, he'd extend it from your waist all the way down to your knee, make it flow with your curves, accentuate the stretch marks, and you can't say no because you absolutely adore the style. if the tattoo was on your ribs (bra straps, remember?" he'd extend it under your tits, bring it back over the clavicle, make it to be seen. and the pain. oh the pain. "you said you wanted catharsis, right?"

John would absolutely be on Ghost's side, with "there's a reason they don't let kids get tattoos" and you hear the underlying what a fucking mistake, and you see how he judges you... it makes you want to get it from him the most. Until you get to the consultation, and he tells you to get it lasered off first. But it's so faded, it should be easy to cover, no? you argue. he won't budge. So you get the expensive laser. it sorta hurts mentally, because you got it done with your best friend, and you always assumed you'd keep it there, underneath another layer of ink, where only you would remember it. It takes a few sessions, but then the skin is clean, a blank canvas for John to paint on. and paint he does. it's the most gorgeous piece you could ever imagine, you can see the inspiration Ghost draws from him, all bold shapes that flow into each other and compliment your body. Your skin is raw and pink when he's done, and you get up to admire the work... until you get a closer look in the mirror. you know exactly where the old tattoo would've been, and you'd expected to not be able to place it, under the new art. in its stead, two letters, black, bold, beautifully intertwined.... J.P. ... He'd put his lips next to your ear as you stand in shocked silence. "You're my canvas now."

[itsrorysstuff]

I got my first ask!! Somebody asked for tattoo artist!julien x reader, so that’s what I did. I hope you like it 😘 the diehard Swiftie in me rly shows here.

Happy birthday

Today was my twenty-second birthday, i figured it was time to get my first tattoo. I had made my way into a tattoo parlor in Los Angeles, seeing a light haired girl at the counter.

“Hey, how can I help you?” She asked as I approached the front counter

“I was hoping to get a tattoo!” I answered

“Well you came to the right place” she laughed then kept going “what were you looking to have done?” I took out my phone and showed her a picture of the tattoo I wanted, a tattoo that that “If you never bleed you’re never gonna grow” In (swooping sloping) cursive letters, it was a line from my favorite Taylor Swift song.

“That’s a cool tattoo. I’m a huge Swiftie too! It shouldn’t take too long, we could definitely get you in today. Let me go ask Julien if she’s free right now” she said as she walked away. Soon, a brown eyed girl came out, covered in tattoos, and smiled at me.

“You’re the one who wants the Taylor Swift tattoo?” She questioned and I nodded

“I’m Julien, I’ll be doing your tattoo for you. And you are?” She puts her hands out for me to shake “Hi, I’m y/n.” I gladly shake her hand, gosh this woman’s attractive. I’m mesmerized.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. Can I just see your drivers license before we get started?” I nodded and got my license out of my purse and handed to her. She scanned it before saying “happy birthday!”

“Oh thank you so much” I smiled and laughed a little, she smiled back and it made me a blushing mess. “Ready to get started?” She asked “yeah” I answered and she started to lead me to the back, opening the door to her studio. “Wow it’s really nice in here” I said. The walls had beautiful art on it, and there were plants decorating the room. She smiled again “thank you. Come sit.” She pat the chair in front of her rolling one, I walked over and sat down. “So where are you wanting this tattoo?”she asked “I was thinking right under my breast” she looked back at my eyes. “Okay great, let’s get started. Did you wanna lift up your shirt or yknow take it off?”

“I could take it off” I smiled “okay” I took my shirt and bra off “are you nervous?” Julien asked “yeah very nervous actually” I giggled nervously “don’t be, I’ll talk to you and it’ll distract you. Or at least it does others. Lie back for me.” She said and I did as I was told, and then she gets to work, she put her needle on me and I cringed and whined a little “shh..shh..it’s okay. Tell me about you, y/n. Who do you listen to besides Taylor Swift?”

I tried to center myself and respond “I uh..uhm I-I like Conan gray and Olivia Rodrigo and uhm Sabrina Carpenter. I also really like older rock stuff like uh…Uhmmmm Nirvana and Pearl Jam and nine inch nails.” I responded hoping I didn’t stutter too much “that’s cool, I like them too. You know hardy?” She asked and she worked “yeah, yeah I went to his concert a couple weeks ago.” I responded “oh so did I! Small world. What do you do for a living?” She asked “uhm well right now I’m working for a local newspaper while I finish up my senior year of college but uh I’m working on becoming a musician.” I responded “that’s really nice, I’m in my senior year too. I also make music, I preform at that coffee shop around the corner, Amelias, on Saturday mornings, you should come see me.” She said…oh my god was she asking me out? “Yeah..yeah maybe I will.” I respond “you should…okay it looks like we’re done here.” She says, then puts the plastic over my tattoo and hands me my clothes. I put my clothes back on “it was really nice meeting you.” I said “yeah, the feelings mutual” she said and I left, going to the front desk to pay and then exiting. As I’m going out to my car I hear someone yelling after me “y/n!! Y/n wait!!” It was julien running after me, I stopped and turned around as she approached me “Julien?” I asked “you forgot your phone, must’ve fallen out of your bag.” She said, handing it back to me “thank you so much!” I said “No problem” she responded and walked back in. My phone case had a sticky note on it that read

“Please come see me on Saturday, and please text me

771-777-875

-Julien <3 “

Oh my god. She really was asking me out. I got into my car and texted the number immediately

“I definitely will be seeing you Saturday.”

“It’s y/n, by the way”

she responded

“Yeah I got that , lol. Happy birthday, pretty girl.”

I hope y’all liked it ❤️‍🩹

Edit: let me know if you want a part 2…I also have something written for tattoo artist!julien in an established relationship if you want that too ✏️

ANOTHER IMPORTANT EDIT: if you want crew!reader x Julien go check out mama g! @gingerjolover

[iswateredible]

Tell me everything. (In relation to your art of aged up Hiccup, Viggo, and Dagur.) Also, oh my god, I’m so excited for that art!

yesssss LETSGO!!

I'm rly excited to share it, cross your fingers for me when I go in w the colors lol!

I always wanted to write/draw more about how I imagine Hiccup would build relationships nd spend quality time with Dagur or Viggo (or both at once?) through things like drawing, documenting and studying dragons... in one of my old drafts Hiccup would be covering up/redoing a tattoo that Dagur had (the list of enemies if I recall correctly - and would change it into something more ornate and dragon related to symbolize him changing sides). I want so bad to just see them going on long travels together with their dragons, stopping on a remote island to camp overnight... falling asleep on the other's shoulder telling stories around the campfire...

I also had another thought that I thought you in particular or other pple in the fandom might be interested in - say at that point in the future Hiccup is the chief of Berk, Viggo is ruling the Berserker tribe and has married Heather (it goes well w the Skrill being bonded to him, ALSO YOU PEOPLE BROKE ME AND I SHIP THEM a little NOW), And Dagur is maybe ruling the Defenders with Mala? (altho to be real I don't really see what rtte writers were thinking, I just don't see them together, but for the sake of this scenario where everyone else has a wife/kids at home...)

And it would be like an annual conference, maintaining a peace treaty or something along those lines... would start off with all three of them meeting on Berk, catching up with one another over Mead in the mess hall... and before you know it they've gone on a several day long trip to visit the Edge, to spend some time reminiscing over the battles all of them fought with one another (and re-live that spark...). One thing leads to another and they're catching up on all the lost time physically. It's been so long, and Hiccup's bonds with the two have if anything deepened over the years, but living so far away from one another... so many different emotions wash over them at the catharsis of being together like this again.

Their wives don't have to know. Or maybe they do? Maybe they always knew.

[cielcreations]

Tattoos - Hermit X Empires

The design of Tango is based off of @lunarcrown​‘s design, so make sure to check them out!

It wasn't a shock that Tango had tattoos. It just fit his aesthetic and the type of person he was. He was a blue blaze hybrid, he wore a lot of leather, usually crop tops paired with thigh highs to both embarrass Solidarity and to show off, it just wasn't really a surprise.

The first time people had seen it was when Tango took off his long cape like overcoat. It did get very hot and stuffy when wearing all black and leather, so he took off the cape and Fwhip (the first one to see it) gasped.

"WOAH!" The goblin ran over, "That's awesome!"

Tango smiled, showing off the warden tattoo, "Thanks! It's still healing though, which is why I have the plastic wrap!"

"It's so pretty! And so cool! The colors are awesome!"

"I know, I have the best tattoo artist!"

"I'll say! You'll have to take me sometime, been thinking of getting one myself!"

That was that. Other people would see it and compliment the design, the colors, the way it fit Tango's arm perfectly, everyone was amazed and impressed. Especially Scott and Joel.

"I have a few tattoos!" Scott removed his shirt and, sure enough, on his lower back was a flower field, full of beautiful colors and all sorts of flowers. He also had a few small ones scattered around his wrist, his ankles, just tiny ones like a rainbow, the word 'Chromia' written in beautiful cursive, a silhouette of a llama, etc.

"Those are nice too!" Joel complimented.

"The artist was the worst though!" Scott complained, "He was way to rough, my skin was swollen for weeks! He was awful! Not to mention the colors all washed out! They used to be super duper bright, but after they fully healed, which took about three months because he was way too rough, they were all gone!"

"That sucks! I hate those type of artists! They feel like they're just stabbing you rather than actually making art!" Tango huffed.

"Exactly!"

"I have one on the back of my thigh of some blue orchids?" Tango turned and lowered his thigh high boot, "This is a cover up!'

"No way!" Joel exclaimed, kneeling down. The tattoo was beautiful, it looked like a flowing pile of blue orchids, "What did you cover up?"

"Originally, it was a black heart and mine and Soli's name-" Tango explained, Joel stepping back as Tango fixed his shoe, "-but the artist was awful and the black faded!"

"How does black fade?!" Joel exclaimed.

"When you're rushing and not pressing hard enough! Honestly, it felt like she was just stabbing my skin with a dull pencil!"

"Well, that one is awesome. They're both awesome!" Joel smiled, "It looks so clean! Colors are blended beautifully, the outline, everything!"

"Thank you!" Tango giggled.

Scott playfully glared, "You have to take me to your artist! I need these ones redone!"

Tango laughed, "Sure!" The blaze then looked at his arm and smiled, tracing it with his finger, blushing slightly, "Soli was so worried it would turn out bad, but I told him it would be fine!"

"Makes sense he would be a buzzkill." Joel teased.

"Well, he does have to be strict if he's the one tattooing me!"

A beat of silence.

"WAIT WHAT?!" Both screamed, making Tango jump.

"SOLIDARITY, THE SHERIFF, DID THOSE?! NO WAY!" Joel yelled.

"He did! Why would I lie?" Tango questioned, "Has he never done one for any of the other emperors?"

Scott and Joel stared.

"....So that's a no..." Tango giggled, "I can prove it! Do either of you want a tattoo?"

"I'll pass for now, I need to do more work at Chromia."

"Joel?"

The god hummed before he nodded.

***

"Soliiiiiiii~!"

The dirty blonde turned and smiled before it was gone in an instant, seeing a familiar brunette god beside his husband, "...Tango, why is he here?" 

The blaze ran over and kissed his cheek, Solidarity instantly blushing and loosening up a bit, "Joel doesn't believe that you made my tattoos! Can you believe that!"

"I can, he's jealous he can't do what I can do!"

Joel glared, smirking, "Yeah right! I know Tango is lying to just hide your secret! Who's the real tattoo artist?! Is he a criminal, is that why the sheriff is hiding him?"

Solidarity raised an eyebrow before he sighed, "Follow me."

"Ha! I'm going to know the sheriff's dirty little secret!"

They walked into Solidarity's home, the dirty blonde taking out a bunch of materials for tattoos before handing Tango a book. The blaze gave it to Joel, who began to flip through it. Most were just pictures of finished, beautiful tattoos while some showed Solidarity working on those tattoos, him beside the tattoos, even some of him with the client who wad clearly amazed and happy with the result.

"...No way..."

"I told you!" Tango exclaimed, "My husband is the best tattoo artist ever! I would never let anyone else ink my skin when I found him!"

"C-Come on, t-they're not that gr-great!" Solidarity blushed, completely embarrassed by his husband's assertion.

"Dude, these are awesome!" Joel yelled, "Can you do me?!"

"I-I can-"

"Sweet!" 

"H-Hey, I didn't say I wo-"

"I want a large lightening tattoo!" Joel pointed at his shoulder, smiling brightly, "Right here! Maybe it could have a cloud and lightening?! And maybe some good praising and-"

"H-HOLD ON!" Solidarity yelled, startling both him and Tango.

"What's wrong, baby?" Tango gently took his hand in his.

Solidarity took a deep breath, "I-I'm not comfortable with writing sentences on people unless they're super meaningful. I'm not going to write 'I'm super hot and sexy and tall' on you." Joel nodded so Solidarity continued. He stepped forward, tracing Joel's arm, "...Do you just want a simple lightening bolt? Black and white or color?"

"Oh, um..." Joel blushed, now a bit embarrassed. He didn't think he would get this far, "...Um..."

Solidarity continued stroking his arm, "...Your skin is really nice, but I'm guessing you want yellow? Yellow or gold?"

"Yeah, um, yes."

"...I don't think that's a good idea." The sheriff hummed, "Yellow, gold, those type of bright colors? They fade really quickly on light skin and they don't turn up well on darker skin. You may be tan, but it's really not worth it."

"You can't, like, go over it?"

"I could, but it would one, hurt you a lot and two, it will look very washed out when fading." Solidarity stared before he widened his eyes, "....Unless...."

"Unless?" Joel questioned.

He could almost see Solidarity's brain processing. He ran to a chest in the corner, Tango running after him. The dirty blonde took out his tattooing materials, Tango taking them as the dirty blonde finally got to his sketchbook, effectively sitting down in his spot and beginning to sketch.

"He's in work mode." Tango explained, setting the equipment down, "Here."

The blaze took,out a long comfortable chair and had the brunette lay down on it as Tango set the equipment up. It took about thirty minutes before Solidarity came back over with a couple of designs. One was a half sleeve with a large cloud on the top of the shoulder with bolts of lightening shooting out of the clouds. He explained he would color them in a way that so it looked like the cloud was lighting up and wasn't just a simple white. The next was a full arm tattoo but it was a lot more simplistic. It was just a string of lightening bolts that went from Joel's shoulder to his hand, Solidarity explaining he would either do it in black because it was just a bunch of straight lines, or UV ink that would glow under UV light to give it that pop. Finally, the last one was a half sleeve again.

It had a silhouette of Joel lifting his hand up towards the sky with a large flash of lightening and storm clouds, mini lightening bolts behind the one giant one.

"Woah..." Joel was amazed, "I... never knew you were such a good artist..."

"He keeps it hidden." Tango hugged Solidarity from behind, the dirty blonde blushing, "He's really passionate about this stuff so if you ever want to embarrass and make him a stuttering mess? Just compliment his art~!"

"T-T-TANGO!" Solidarity yelled.

"Seeeeee~?"

Joel chuckled, "Um... I really like all of them. I want all of them. But, if I have to choose one? I'd go with this one." He pointed to the one with the silhouette.

Solidarity smiled, "I figured. I try to make two or three designs that are 'basic', in terms of what the person wants, and then one or two catered to that specific person!"

Tango sat in a chair opposite of Solidarity's equipment as the dirty blonde transferred the sketch to a stencil. Once that was finished, he got his inks and tattoo gun ready.

Solidarity hummed, "Ready?"

"Ready!" Joel smiled.

"If you need a break, just tell me."

"Okay."

The dirty blonde began to work, Tango watching him intently. Joel did too. The other's face was calm and he gave off an aura of confidence, knowing exactly what he was doing. Solidarity didn't even blink when Joel let out a small groan as he hit one spot, just wiped away some ink, looked at him to gage if he was okay, and straight back to work mode.

"He's hot like this, right?" Tango giggled, not bothering to whisper.

Joel stared, "...Honestly, yeah..."

Solidarity looked... different like this. Just super confident, super calm, completely in his element. It was... amazing to see. He was completely comfortable, unlike when he left his empire and always seemed on edge because of something.

Joel hummed, "So, how long will this take?"

Solidarity didn't answer.

"Mine took three hours, so probably that, maybe a little less or more." Tango explained, "Trust me, you're not getting anything from him. Even complimenting his work won't deter him from work mode."

Joel nodded, "Amazing..."

"He is~!" Tango exclaimed, giggling, 

Solidarity wiped another bit of ink, humming to himself.

"S-Something wrong?!" Joel exclaimed.

"No." The dirty blonde reassured, "Just admiring it. I don't make mistakes in my tattoos."

Tango and Joel chuckled before the two continued to talk among themselves. Joel did let out small groans at some point, but Solidarity would look at him, gage if the pain was too much, before getting back to work. It took about 3 hours before Solidarity hummed taking a step back. He smirked, putting his tools down before wiping Joel's arm a couple of times.

"Alright, you are all set." Solidarity smiled, "I know you hate following orders, but trust me on this. Do not take hot water, try to take cold or slightly warm showers, hot water will hurt your arm and it can wash the ink out. I would also suggest wearing plastic wrap, just in case. Wash the tattoo twice a day, all you need is a little soap and water and then gently pat dry. I'm going to give you some antibacterial/Vaseline ointment that you apply after washing it. Do not put on another bandage after the ointment, just wrap it in plastic wrap. Also, I suggest using some moisturizer to keep the tattoo moist."

Solidarity helped Joel sit up and handed him a mirror. Joel took it and gasped, amazed, "HOLY SHIT!"

"LANGUAGE!" Solidarity yelled.

"SHUT UP, NO WAY YOU DID THIS!!!" Joel stared, "IT LOOKS AWESOME!!! WAIT, OMG, IT LOOKS LIKE I'M REALLY CONTROLLING THE SKY!!! AND THE SHADING, THE COLORS, IT'S ALL BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL!!!!"

"Yellow and orange tends to fade the quickest just because they're so bright, so I built up the colors a lot and the shading with the whites and darker oranges should keep it looking bright!" Solidarity smirked, clearly proud of himself.

"Dude, oh my god..."

"I TOLD YOU HE WAS GOOD!" Tango giggled, grabbing Solidarity's cheeks and kissing him. The dirty blonde blushed and smiled, giggling.

The sheriff then grabbed some petroleum jelly and gently rubbed it on Joel's arm, wrapping it in plastic wrap and then a bandage, "Keep this on for 24 hours. You take it off early, I will find you and kill you for ruining my masterpiece."

"Got it." Joel smiled, "Well, then, I'm off-"

"Excuse me?" Solidarity glared, "My work ain't free."

"Oh, uh... what do you want? Diamonds, iron? How much?"

"A stack of diamonds." Solidarity smirked.

"WHAT?! I DON'T HAVE THAT!"

"Then, I guess you owe me-"

"Oh, I know!" Tango smiled, "You can give him a kiss!"

"WHAT?!" "T-TANGO!"

"Whaaaat~? My tattoo cost a kiss!"

"T-That's because you're my husband, th-there's a difference!"

Joel hummed before he smirked, "I can give you that~"

"H-Huh-"

The brunette grabbed Solidarity's chin and pulled him in for a kiss. The dirty blonde blushed darkly as Joel hummed, kissing him so gently. The sheriff put his hands on Joel's chest and pushed him back, face bright red.

"Y-YOU-! TH-THIS IS DISRESPECT TO THE HIGHEST DEGREE! THIS IS THE LAST TIME I EVER GIVE YOU A TATTOO!" Solidarity screamed, grabbing his things and angrily washing everything off.

Tango chuckled and helped Joel sit up, "Don't be upset. He's fine."

Joel snickered, "At least I don't have to pay!"

The blaze chuckled, "Your welcome~! I know he's my husband and we're suppose to be on the same page, but seeing him get so flustered is so adorable! How can I pass that up?!"

The brunette stood up and looked around. He went to the Ender Chest and then took out 20 diamonds, giving them to Tango, smiling, "Give them to the toy man."

The blaze smiled and nodded, "I will."

Joel then left, smiling.

***

"Wow, Joel! That tattoo is awesome! Did you go to the same artist as Tango?"

Joel smiled at Grian, "Yep!"

"Who's the artist?!" Grian hummed, "I might get one!"

The brunette looked up and pointed at the sheriff who was talking with Scar.

"....No way."

"Yes way."

[twilightknight17]

Today on P3R, we’re technically covering three play sessions, because I didn’t have time to make a post before Katsucon. But a lot of that was Tartarus, so it’s not actually too much. ^_^

(Katsu pictures are coming at some point.)

Anyway, we’re off to Tartarus to train some and play with the new special attacks we got last time we were here! And get a little higher while we’re at it, so, let’s g--

Oh god oh fuck not you

It’s not the boss version, so it’s fine, but I didn’t think things showed up as enemies until after they were bosses???

The other reason we were in Tartarus was to get black quartz to trade to the guy in Escapade for a discount on fashion glasses. (Is there somewhere that will buy my gemstones? The police station won’t, and I get why, but like… I just have these.)

She looks very nice in those, actually.

Back at school, we’re still having a time. Odagiri of the student council has moved on to accusing the vice president over this one cigarette. And is not being diplomatic about it.

I’m gonna mess up his social link just because I keep not agreeing with him on these things. X’’’D

I’ve also met Keisuke Hiraga of the art club, who is a very good artist, but his dad is a doctor, so he’s also… Very Fussy. XDDDD

I can now hang out with my friends in the dorm, and I still think it’s weird that it calls them social links when I can’t start any of the girls’ links yet, and I can’t actually link with Junpei and Akihiko. I had tea with Mitsuru, though, and watched DVDs with Yukari, read manga with Junpei, and cooked with Akihiko. It’s nice! And some of them do give me stat boosts and items, so that’s cool.

I’m smooth now~

...well, shit. Here we go.

Minato’s theurgy skills are apparently the fusion spells, which you’re allowed to use even when you don’t have the actual personas with you, which is nice. The two I have so far are Orpheus and Apsaras’ Cadenza, and the Jack Bros doing a standup routine, which is cute.

I also got my first introduction to the Reaper. None of these floors really seem large enough to worry about it, so I think this appearance was scripted. Easy enough to get away from, though.

Nice.

Wait, what??? Can it do that??????

Once we found the missing girl, we escorted her back to the entrance, and I kept going til I found the next barrier floor. We’re done for now, so it’s time to go work on some more requests. Liz has a good one here. :D

I love that all the Velvet attendants have a soft spot for Jack Frost.

We also get our first intro to Koromaru!

Apparently he walks himself each day, since his owner at the shrine passed away. He stops for pets, but then carries on with his routine all on his own. He’s such a good dog. T_T

Ikutsuki drags us away from fussing over Koromaru to have a proper SEES meeting. He’s concluded that the Full Moon Shadows we’ve seen so far follow the Arcana from I to IV, and that there should theoretically be eight more, spanning from the Magician to Strength. And if we destroy them all, it will get rid of Tartarus and the Dark Hour, and we will have saved Iwatodai from Apathy Syndrome!

...they are us. There’s not much more we can say, Ikutsuki.

Yeah, let’s go to the mall after that seriousness. We can check out a new social link!

...oh yeah because this won’t go wrong.

School is still kicking my ass because this school is insane. But Junpei gets it, at least.

I can’t spend time with Fuuka unless my courage is badass-level, because apparently her food is just that scary. She wants me to be a badass, Mitsuru wants me to be a genius… Is Yukari gonna want a casanova or something? X’D

And even though Mitsuru wants me to be a genius, she called the police because she thought Junpei’s messy room meant someone had broken in.

And, as my last act before leaving for Katsu, these guys have made their first appearance, executing people in the Dark Hour based on requests on a revenge website. I don’t know how they wake people up from the coffins, but Tattoo Man over here is blasting people with a real gun, so that’s gonna be a problem~

.

[KATSU INTERMISSION]

.

I return from my convention, happy and optimistic, and school is immediately still full of bullshit. XD

You know, Keisuke, if you dad doesn’t want you to be an artist, and wants you to take over the hospital, why does he have fancy paintbrushes?

Anyway, Keisuke is about to win an art contest and gain the opportunity to study art abroad. And his dad is actually encouraging him to study abroad, so now he doesn’t know if he wants to do it because he doesn’t want to do what his dad wants. It’s kind of ridiculous, but the Fortune Arcana is all about choices, so… I guess.

We’re also off to fashion club to hang out with Bebe, who is actually surprisingly lovely despite being French. I appreciate his utter weeaboo enthusiasm. But… his aunt passed away unexpectedly, and he doesn’t know if his uncle will support letting him continue to study abroad. So not only is he upset that his aunt is gone, he also might have to leave the country he loves.

Neither were you, dude! It’s okay!

This is not quite NieR Automata levels of “everything is bad”, but things are pretty bad. I mean… people are just leaving the Lost laying on the sidewalks. :/

The Lost are the ones with Apathy Syndrome, but everyone else seems pretty apathetic, too.

I took Elizabeth to Iwatodai Station, and we had a lovely time.

The takoyaki lady can see her, which, don’t worry, ma’am. Just showing my weird cousin around. She won’t tell me what’s in the takoyaki instead of octopus, though, because apparently the knowledge would be detrimental. Which… okay, Liz. Thanks. That’s not worrisome at all.

When last I saw Maiko, she was planning to ask her parents why they were getting a divorce, in the hopes of being able to fix it. Which, not a great plan, but I couldn’t actually stop her. She wants to talk now, though, so we’ll see how that wen--

WHERE IS HE

Maybe we can throw them into Tartarus. Fucking hell. Maiko wants to run away from home so that her parents are forced to work together to find her, and I am NOT allowed to beg Mitsuru to let her stay at the dorm. This sucks so much. She wants me to keep her plan a secret, but good lord. This is going to go so badly.

I go home to stew on my thoughts and play computer games for babies to up my courage.

However that works. X’D

Lastly, I’ve reached my first choice that could potentially reverse a social link, I think?

We commit scandalous hand-holding, and it’s nice. Chihiro clearly has a crush on me, but I don’t know who I want to date, yet. OBVIOUSLY, I have my preference, but since my preference isn’t available, I dunno. Fuuka is nice. Mitsuru is… great, but also SO far out of my league. XDDD

Pharos came back for my one-week full moon reminder, so I guess that’s up next. They keep implying it’s gonna be the Lovers shadow, since couples are passing out and someone mentioned Shirakawa Boulevard, but I thought Hierophant was next.

Ah, well.

[fandsart]

i’d love to see double date or tattoo fic for stobin (from the stobin month prompts)

I asked for requests because I could not choose between them and then you sent me a choice. Fear not, I will combine. Gonna ignore that tattoos weren’t legal in Indiana until the 90s, as it seems everyone is doing that anyway

Double dates make things easier. Nobody blinks an eye at what the activity they’re doing implies when it’s being done with two girls and two boys. It already looks like a double date. If they’re all giggling—as a group—well, no one really questions it. Still, they try to go out of town for it. The people in town know them too well. Assume that Steve and Robin would be dating which is uncomfortable on its face, but even if they were willing to go the beard route, that leaves Vickie and Eddie to pretend to be a couple, and they aren’t the closest. It would be a difficult idea to sell, long term at least.

It’s fun exploring the towns over too; places they’ve never been. Just walking around and finding things to do on the date as they go. Vickie once described it as like window shopping for date samples and then making a meal from the samples. Though she used more words to describe the idea.

So they’re wandering the area, looking in at random shops when Eddie suddenly shouts, “Oh my god, I totally forgot I’ve been here before!”

“Define ‘here,’” Robin prompts.

“This town. I drove over here last year for my wyvern tattoo.”

“I think, only you could forget about a town you went to a year prior,” Vickie says.

“What reminded you?” Steve asks.

“I recognize this area. The tattoo parlor is, like, a block away.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

It’s the drive back that gets them talking, because Eddie has a strict rule regarding not getting impulse tattoos after getting the one his bats now cover, but he’s always itching to get more ink. The only issue comes with committing to a design and figuring out whether he’s actually prepared for the permanency of his choices or if he’s just so desperate to make himself into a work of art that he’s willing to take any image and slap it on his skin.

“If you want something meaningful to put on your skin, why don’t you just have someone you care about pick the design?” Vickie asks. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have any regrets then. I mean, unless you have a falling out with that person, but if it’s someone you really trust it would probably have to be, like, way down the road.”

“Oooh, Stevie, wanna get matching tattoos with me?”

“I’m going to be honest, I don’t know if there’s anything that would be fitting for you to get that I would be also super comfortable having on my skin. No offense.”

“Course not, love.”

“But I could probably think up something for just you.”

“Aw, just for me?”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“But yes?”

“Yes, Eddie, I’ll doodle you up something all for you.”

“You know, I wouldn’t mind getting a tattoo,” Vickie says, directed at Robin. “Maybe a matching one would be too early for our relationship, but corresponding ones could be cool. If you’re down for it. Like if they work as a pair, but could be viewed on their own just fine? But they would be meant to represent ourselves more than each other, you know?”

“We could get our instruments done.”

“Yes!”

“We aren’t heading back now for you to get that done,” Eddie says. “You’ll have to wait.”

“Obviously. We’d need to set up what they’re going to look like anyway.”

“Eh, you’d be surprised with how little a tattoo artist can work with. I know your instruments are kind of complex, but you could at least get a pretty good simple version of them. More detail means a higher price anyway.”

“We should probably sit on the idea for a little bit anyway,” Vickie says.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

“Wat’cha workin’ on?” Robin asks, pulling on her uniform vest, ready to start the few shared hours of work she has with Steve after school.

“Brainstorming ideas for Eddie.”

“Oh, the tattoo! How’s it coming?”

“Not well. I feel like if I saw an idea I could tell you whether he would like it or not. I know him well enough for the yes or no of it, but coming up with an idea myself is so hard. I know how Eddie thinks, but it’s not how I think, so I’m drawing a blank. You and Vickie made these decisions look so much easier.”

“Well, maybe if you tried to look for something you have in common like Vickie and I did…”

“It’s not… Look, I’m not upset that me and Eddie are so different. I love him for it. I just wish I could do this for him. I’m glad that you and Vickie being so similar works for you, but so does my relationship the way it is.”

“Well, obviously it’s not working that well.”

“Shut up, we aren’t going to break up over my uncreativity. Eddie’s just usually the creative one in the relationship. I mean, the reason he asked me to do this is because he’s literally so creative he won’t think his choices through.”

“At least he’s self aware enough to recognize that in himself.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe instead of brainstorming for just Eddie you should do some practice brainstorming first.”

“‘Practice brainstorming?’”

“Like a warm up. Like, you know how professional artists will, like, warm up by drawing a bunch of circles on a page before working on their actual pieces.”

“... No?”

“Ok well they do. Basically what I’m saying is that if your issue is that you don’t think the way Eddie does, then you could at least get into the mindset of thinking about what makes a good tattoo first. You think more similarly to me than you do Eddie, so if you were picking out a tattoo for me, what would you pick?”

“Well obviously a trumpet is an easy go-to. Oh!” He snaps his fingers. “One thing you could do is get the word for robin—like the bird—down in every language that you know. And then you could add one whenever you learn a new language.”

Robin hums. “I might use that, but no time soon. I’ll have to think on it. Any other ideas?”

Steve snorts. “Ice cream.”

“That doesn’t even work out of context. The only way that could work, like, as something that represents me, is if you get a matching one.”

Steve shrugs. “I mean, yeah, the only way I’d even get an ice cream tattoo would be if you were getting a matching one.”

“Where would you get it?”

“I don’t know. The Scoops uniform had, like, a patch on the shoulder. I’d probably do that.”

“Well if that’s the metric we’re using, my uniform had it on the vest. That puts it on my…”

“Your boobie.”

She elbows him lightly. “Gross.”

“Oh, whatever! It’s part of your body Robin. How can you not bring yourself to name a part of your own body?”

“It’s gross that you’re the one saying it.”

“But you also don’t say it!”

“I’m also not getting a tattoo there.”

“Then just also get it on your shoulder! You don’t have to follow the logic.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

A couple weeks later sees Robin getting two tattoos. A trumpet on her left forearm, the same place Vickie got her clarinet, and an ice cream on her right shoulder in the same place as Steve’s. And Eddie is absolutely obsessed with his new tattoo of an african death-head moth. He named it Andrew. Steve may have recruited Dustin for help on getting past “moth.”

Despite being their most physically painful double date, it’s probably one of their most fun ones. Having some kind of goal and actually getting something—an actual physical thing—out of it makes it feel like they’ve achieved something. Maybe they should start structuring their dates a little bit more, even if it’ll be a little more tricky to keep their relationships on the down low.

It’s not longer “stobin month” but I will continue taking requests from the prompt list by @lesbianancyy because I wanted to take more in the first place, but I got these out late, because I’ve been super busy

[tonberry-yoda]

Chapter 1 - The Beginning

notes - AHHH HERE IT IS! Chapter 1 of Demon Days! @thatoneartistinthecorner and I have been so excited to share this with you and I am more than happy to be the writer for this AU!!! This is the intro chapter, so nothing crazy yet, but know that it is going to be a crazy fun series! If you want to be tagged in further updates, let me know!!! Stay hydrated!! <333 Tag List - @shigbby, @funkykitsune, @k0zhka, @metaliberationarmyslut, @moescaria (let me know if you don't want to be tagged anymore)

word count - 1,505

art below by @thatoneartistinthecorner please go support her by giving her a follow!!

Tomoyasu groaned and pulled his sheets over his head as his alarm screamed at him in a high pitched tone. Sun peeked through the blinds covering his window, making orangish yellow lines on his bed.

After a couple more annoying beeps, he threw off the covers and slammed his hand on the off button, immediately making it stop. He yawned and checked the time, annoyed at himself for hitting snooze three times. It was now 7:00, which meant he had to cut his morning run short and grab breakfast at the convenience store before class instead of going back home to make something for himself that he already had.

He cursed at himself under his breath and brushed out his jet black hair, which was a little longer than shoulder length mess. When he stretched, his back popped, and then he threw open the closet to pull out his running clothes and some clothes that wouldn't be sweaty for class.

He caught his reflection in a mirror in the back of the closet and scoffed. He was built like what he called a ‘skinny refrigerator’, and it especially showed since he slept shirtless. The only thing he liked about himself appearance-wise was the Gorillaz tattoo that sat just on his hipbone that he had gotten for his 18th birthday. His sweatpants were low enough to show it, so he traced it with his long finger and then slammed the closet door shut.

When Tomoyasu got to the bathroom, he threw his clothes on the ground to put on in just a minute, and began to brush his teeth.

Why didn't I get braces sooner? he thought as he had to pick in between the metal wire that was supposed to fix his teeth. He knew he should’ve gotten them in middle school or sometime even sooner, but his parents said that his teeth were fine when in fact… they weren't. At all. His sister made fun of him then, and makes even more fun of him now. Luckily though, he spared himself too much embarrassment and got clear braces, which were difficult to see when he opened his mouth, which was rare anyway.

After he finished brushing his teeth, he threw on his running clothes and walked back to his room. He grabbed his backpack and threw his clothes for class in there. He ignored any mirrors, as he hated what his running clothes looked like on him. It was a pair of shorts that were god awfully too short on his long ass legs, and a white shirt that he would always sweat through. And on top of that beautiful assortment, he would wear a long pair of socks and sneakers. It was what worked for him since forever, but god, did he hate the way it looked.

Tomoyasu shut his apartment door, locking it behind him. The sun smiled from behind some bright white, puffy clouds, and Tomoyasu just looked upset, his upper lip pulled into an expression of disgust.

He opened his car door and tossed his backpack in the passenger seat, slipping on a pair of earbuds and putting on Demon Days by Gorillaz. After a lazy stretch, he took off running through the small, and mostly empty neighborhood he lived in. The only people that really lived there were older folks who didn't care to get to know him at all, but he was fine with it since the feeling was mutual.

His runs were never long, and never exhausting, it was just something to make him feel a bit more alive in the morning. He wasn't exactly athletic – that trait was given to his sister, who has played more sports than he could imagine sitting through – but he wasn't exactly not athletic either. He had the legs to run and never dreaded running, so he figured he would keep his unhealthy lifestyle – of staying up until 3am and eating a not so healthy diet of mostly nothing until someone reminded him – a little healthier.

About halfway through the run, he stopped at a convenience store, his stomach growling, a rare occurrence. He looked around for a while, but his thoughts were interrupted by a text.

Kumiko: Good morning, cutie pie!!! ❤️❤️❤️ I hope you slept well!! I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE YOU TODAY! I'll visit you at work! LOVE YOU!! ❤️

He smiled at the text, his face flushing pink. He and Kumiko had only started dating about a month ago, but she had already brought him so much joy. She majored in hospitality services and was well known around the college, so it was odd that the two even got together. Oddly enough too, she was the one who approached him. They talked about their majors, future plans, and a couple weeks later, started dating. He was never one for dating either, so it was super weird for him to get used to taking someone on dates and saying things like ‘I love you’.

He sent a quick text back that said:

ily. see you later.

When he looked back up at the stocked refrigerators that made his stomach growl again, someone nearly bumped into him. That someone was you. You looked up at Tomoyasu, shocked at how tall he was and took a quick step back.

“Shoot, sorry about that.” you said.

“Oh, it's fine.” he said, his voice barely audible.

You went to walk past him, but recognized that long hair quickly. “Wait, do you work at the IT office at the college down the street?”

He turned to you, a little shocked. “Y-Yes.”

“You work with my friend Akio!”

“Yeah?”

“So you must be Tomoyasu then!”

“I am.”

“Well, I'm y/n!” You stuck out your hand for him to shake it, but he just stared at it for a moment, so you quickly put it down. “Well it was nice to finally meet you, Tomoyasu!!” Before he could respond – not like you were expecting it anyway – you walked off, checked out your items, and left.

He just watched you leave the shop for a minute, blinking. What was that all about? he thought. He wasn't very used to people just coming up to him like that, especially with such a bright attitude so early in the morning.

He shook the distraction from his mind though and continued shopping. He still had to run back to his car to get to class on time, so he didn't have very much longer to spend in the store. It didn't take him long before he just decided on a small muffin that he quickly ate before running back out.

He hated running while having food in his stomach, it felt gross and made him feel slower. Usually after a run, he would go home and quickly eat, but because of his sleep deprived ass, he had to eat in between the run so he could just take off, get to a nearby bathroom, change his clothes, and get to class. A painful routine of his that didn't happen too often.

Luckily, the run back wasn't long and before he knew it, he was already in class. Though almost late and blowing loose pieces of his bangs out of his face, he still made it.

“Tomo, oh thank god you’re here,” Akio whispered as Tomoyasu sat down. “Do you have a pen?”

Tomoyasu rolled his eyes and dug a pen out of his bag, handing it to Akio. “How are you so damn forgetful, Akio? I hope to god you remembered those work papers that are supposed to go to Makoto.”

Akio froze and Tomoyasu’s jaw dropped.

“You’re joking… right?” Tomoyasu said, disbelief very evident in his tone.

“Look, I had to study for a chemistry test!”

“He's going to kill you.”

Akio sighed, defeated. “Yeah, you’re probably right. There’s no way I'm getting those done while we’re in class, so I guess I'll have to take death.”

“Good choice. Especially since you’re going around telling people about me.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Tomoyasu sharply exhaled and turned to Akio, his voice low as their professor prepared for the lecture. “I met someone at the convenience store down the street. Apparently you’ve been talking about me to other people.”

Akio looked lost and Tomoyasu groaned.

“y/n?” he said. “Does that ring a bell?”

Akio’s eyes lit up. “Oh yeah!! Look, I don't talk about you. Me and y/n are just really close, so I talk about work a lot and you so happen to come up… you know… since we work together.”

Tomoyasu went to argue back, but the lecture began. He guessed he would have to get on his ass at work, but no big deal, since Kumiko was visiting him and it was only an hour away.

He leaned back in his chair and listened to the lecture, both bored out of his mind, and not a worry in the world.

College was nothing in comparison to the rest of the world.

~~~~~

2023 @tonberry-yoda @thatoneartistinthecorner – do not repost or claim ANY of our work as your own!! Likes, comments, reblogs, fanart/fanfiction of the Demon Days Skeptic AU Series are not only welcomed, but appreciated (though if fanart/fanfiction is made, please tag us, we would love to see it)!

~~~~~

[kaminokilljoy]

OMGGG thank you for the tag @nedpilots!!! I am so normal about twenty one pilots definitely not going feral right now

7 + 1 twenty one pilots ask:

1. when/how did you discover them? + what was the first song you listened to?

I think I had known about them for a while just because they are so famous but I started really listening to them in like late 2021 (december?) from a 2010s music YouTube playlist (I hadn't listened to basically any music for a few years and I was trying to rediscover my music taste, slowly turned out to be way different than it was a few years ago) and slowly from there I kind of just started listening to more and more, it was originally a guilty habit but at some point I realized that I just love their music too much to pretend I didn't

and my first song was Stressed Out

2. have you been on concert(s)?

ohhh my god I really wanted to go to a concert in the scaled and icy tour but i felt like there was no way for me to so i haven't gone yet :( i really wanna go sometime in the future..

3. do you remember where you were when trench dropped (if you were a fan by then)?

I didn't really listen to them when Trench dropped

4. favourite thing about the clique?

Really creative!! Really intelligent when analyzing lore, the smallest clue/hint etc, amazing art, I saw a lot of really nice writing inspired by lyrics during Cliquetober

5. any memorable/funny/interesting quote (from interviews/bts footage/…) you especially like?

Slushieguys channel (I love that video with the ridiculous skits it always makes me laugh or grin)

banana prank

Excuse me couldyou please leave

6. what would you want to ask/tell them if you got the chance?

I think I really would first just want to tell them how much I love their music 😭 it has so many layers, its so well put together, so much meaning, hits so hard, literally makes me feel like im ascending to heaven

7. which tattoo would you like to know the meaning of (if you do)?

tyler's •|i|• Ø i+! ]

^ prev yeah same

which album cover do you like best? (from dasloddl)

uh oh its so hard for me to pick favorites on anything... umm.. I love the self titled and vessel covers especially bcs of their symbolism

I’d love to hear about some memorable moment you had because of this band, it can be anything, whatever you’re comfortable sharing &lt;3 (from pantaloonwarrior)

Realizing a friend of a friend loves their music too and getting to talk about it with them!!! :]]]]]] I will tag them in this post

Also I guess this only vaguely relates but twenty one pilots was really my gateway into the music I currently listen to, somehow went from a random song on a hit 2010s playlist to like. whatever on earth I listen to now and I have them to thank for that

what do you think the genre/vibe of the next album is going to be? (from silverlininghills)

Based on the B&W pictures I have to say. hmm... like kind of grunge-y heavy I guess, but they aren't really known for being predictable are they haha

+1 for@kaminokilljoy : if the boys released a mashup of 2+ of their songs (think sai livestream version songs), which songs would you want to see mixed together?

OMG uhh... hm... How do you think Jumpsuit and Ode to Sleep would sound together?? Maybe thats a horrible choice but that's what came to mind,,, let me know ur thoughts!! Which song do you want to see?

Thank you so much again for the tag!! tagging @astronomicalunit32 @trjslimeball @mymy4444 @dmmyring(so sorry to bother you 😭😭 ,,, but if you want to answer id love to hear ur thoughts) and anybody else who listens :)

[mesillusionssousecstasy]

THE IDOL 1x05: Review

The big winner of this episode is the song “Like a God” by the Weeknd.  And I liked some of the cinematic shot of this episode. C’est chiadé.

The big loser of the entire series are the make-up and the cloths (I’m laughing at Natasha Newman-Thomas the so-called “Costume Designer”). 

This final episode unveils the casualties from Jocelyn and Tedros’ fallout, which leads to a massive struggle for power and control. 

But it’s absurde to say that Tedros is Jocelyn’s victim. 

If there are some victims, it would be Dyanne and Leia for sure! 

First thing first, for the first time, Jocelyn called him a con man and a fraud in front of everyone, while Tedros is still high on drugs (after so many days). We also learned that since forever Tedros has this crazy plan to meet with Jocelyn and make her fall in love with her. Why during this entire conversation, Chloé is wearing the costume of the Devil?

Also, what’s up with Xander who is now living in the basement with the rest of Tedros’ family knowing that he’s got a big bedroom upstairs. Oh and apparently no one is working at the night club anymore, right? They are all hanging at Jocelyn now.  To this point, I still don’t understand the purpose of the character “Head”, the guy covered with tattoos, can he sing too haha. Oh sorry, we now have a name: His name is Mitch.

The way they are treating the poor cleaning ladies again. 

It was so fucked up to watch a room filled with grown up people watching “kids” almost naked and sexually dancing for them, especially Chloé, who is supposed to be underage. Her outfit was so disgusting and didn’t highlight her body, nor her ass. 

Yes, Sam Levinson has especially something with young lady’s ass. At least, we didn’t have sex scene in this episode, thank god! 

At the beginning, Jocelyn rallies the cult together and offers them something Tedros could never: a chance at true stardom and sharing their art with the world. It wasn’t just a victim in distress trying to remove a toxic presence in her life, but also a power move on Jocelyn’s behalf to secure the credit and ownership over the Family, and this new era of her career. Throughout all the chaos, Jocelyn blows away Nikki, Finkelstein, and Chaim with her four new artists as well as her three new singles. Jocelyn proved to herself and those in doubt that her artistic instincts and her ability to play the Hollywood game is unmatched.

Watching Nikki try to win Tedros’ favor in order to claim ownership of the new talent while Chaim and Destiny were discussing working as an independent label really underscored how, at the end of the day, this is a business and money is at the forefront of their minds.

While Rob career is destroyed and no one give a fuck about it. They even want Jocelyn to have no part in it. 

Well, as expected, Dyanne was chewed up and spit out of the Hollywood machine just like a million other aspiring idols. You see, Nikki, only presented Dyanne with an offer because of her doubts regarding Jocelyn’s career. Now that she has seen the true potential of Jocelyn’s new era, all of the support and power they were willing to give to Dyanne has been taken and given back to Jocelyn. I know some of you may think Jocelyn requested to screw over Dyanne, but, again, I think the true villain is the record label. They made Dyanne sigh away her life and rights away to the label, and I’m assuming she cannot release music without their direct approval or oversight. Given that the World Class Sinner lawsuit is most likely a lie to cover up their renewed interest in Jocelyn, Dyanne’s career is over before it ever even started. 

I’m wondering what Leia wrote to Jocelyn in her letter. Where did she go?

This leads to Tedros reputation, which wasn’t much to begin with, to be completely smeared in the public eye, which was quite terrible to watch when the three of them where laughing because they ruined him entirely knowing that he is the one responsable for this entire world tour. This effectively kills the interest in his night club and causes him to shut down his business. And, none of his cult members desire to be attached to him or known as his students of art, because of the horrendous controversies surrounding him. What’s truly interesting about this sequence of events is that it’s somewhat hinted at from the beginning of the show. Some of you speculated that a character was going to die at the end of the season, and you all were right for the most part. However, it was not a literal death but more so an ego death. The idea and concept of Tedros, something that he prided himself in crafting, was completely killed and destroyed by the power and might of Jocelyn’s will. In the end, he is just the failed con man, Mauricio Jackson (reference to Mickael Jackson of course). Does this mean that Jocelyn was the mastermind all along? And was everything she told Tedros, and everyone else, a lie? Let’s start with what I believe to be true: I think Jocelyn was definitely in a dark place grieving the death of her mother, and that she hadn’t processed her trauma in a healthy way. We hear about and see her having mental breakdowns as she copes with her loss, which also manifests itself as self-harm during her darkest moments. Being surrounded by these feelings that weigh her down and cloud her vision, I do think it affected the way she felt about her music on a deeper lever. Now let’s go into what I don’t believe to be true: I don’t think Jocelyn is a victim of the people around her, and I don’t think she is without agency or power. The title reference the source of her power: she can sense that others will idolize and follow her. We see at the beginning of the series how Jocelyn can reflect what other people want or believe to be true about her, and she uses that to her advantage. She will allow people to exploit her to a certain point, but she will always come out on top. Remember, it has been alluded to that she has been in the industry since childhood (btw how old is she now??), and you can’t remain that famous and relevant by being complacent or a pushover in the Hollywood system. I mean Dyanne was in it for two seconds before she became a nobody in the blink of an eye. I believe that is why, when Tedros asked about the hairbrush, he realizes that part of her background was made up in order to give him this illusion of power over her. While I’m not saying she wasn’t abused by her mother, because their relationship did seem toxic and all-consuming at times (just listen to the lyrics of “Like a God”, I feel as though she may have taken some liberties about how it all happened. We’ve seen Jocelyn’s history with self-harm, so maybe the bruises and scares she spoke about. We’ll never know, because no one bothered to step in and intervene, which I believe to be true, so only Jocelyn and her mother know the truth. In the end, Jocelyn got what she wanted: inspiration for her new era of music and a wildly successful comeback. So much so, that she sold out a world tour in three weeks, all of her new singles were massive hits on the charts, and the honestly around her life and trauma created a ride-or-die massive hits on the charts, fanbase with undying loyalty. And, to the confusion and anger from her team, she reveals to them and her fans that the man who inspired her, and whom she loves, Tedros, even though Vanity Fair’s article destroyed him and she is indirectly responsable for it. This goes against everything now that everyone knows who is Tedros, Mauricio Jackson. How people/her fans will accept that Jocelyn’s boyfriend was a pimp and a criminal. How could they forget that. 

That’s why Destiny wasn’t surprised when she saw Tedros invited backstage. She was the one inside the house watching everyone and everything during a week. I think she was smart enough to realise who was in control during all this time.   

I love the mirror scene with Jocelyn coming from them. The symbolic of it. 

It took me a moment, but it started to click when I realized this was another facet of Jocelyn’s utter control of her situation and the people around her. She needed to lean into the idea that Tedros was nothing but trouble to the people in her inner circle, so that she could ask them for their help to strip him of his power and everything he had when the moment was right. That way, despite his ego and manipulations, she was always 10 steps ahead of him and the one in control all along. 

I’m wondering if she will even think of opening her own music label with Tedros’ artists. That would be very interesting. 

I honestly thought the show did a fair job at layering the different perspectives of exploitation in the music industry and raised a lot of provocative questions regarding the creative process and digging into the source of what inspires art that resonates on a deeper level. I hate to break it, but not everything inspired comes from a place of rainbows and sunshines, nor is it a smooth and linear process. On the contrary. Similar to Jocelyn’s story, it may take a journey into the darkness in order to find the light that may connect to and inspire others. And, at the end of the day, whether you watched it out of love or you watched it out of hate. The worst thing art can do is exist without stirring some sort of an intense emotion, regardless of what that emotion may be. Anyway, I’ll be listening to the full music album of the series on repeat starting tomorrow, for the next week or so. 

Tedros, be careful for what you wished for. 

ps: What happened to the publicist, Benjamin, he ran away with the audience? hahah

[yutafrita]

Read 'em and Weep!- THREE

Pairing: Journalist! Jaemin x Comic Writer! Reader

Y/N Pronouns: She/Her

Genre: Romantic Comedy, Fluff, College AU

Synopsis: Not wanting to be compared to your prolific parents, you write your popular online comic under the pseudonym "Patches." Jaemin, in an attempt to appease his click hungry editors at GameLabs, writes a scathing article on the first online comic he could find- yours. How could it get any worse? He's in your Journalism Master's cohort.

Chapter Word Count: 3.8K

Master List

Tag List! @nini0620

THREE

You, Swan, and Hendery sat awkwardly in the small tattoo parlor, looking encouragingly Ireh’s way as the artist applied the stencil to her upper back.

“God it was so awkward when he came over yesterday,” you forced a smile as you spoke to Hendery and Swan, not wanting Ireh to see your frown and further panic about her permanent ink.

“I can’t believe he think it’s me,” Hendery’s teeth looked more gritted than a forced smile.

“Hendery you better smile with your eyes,” Swan’s smile seemed incredibly forced, but when Ireh glanced your way for encouragement, everyone shot a thumbs up. “Honestly, with how much you guys have been speaking I would think he’d catch on that it’s you.”

“We haven’t spoken that much,” you denied, staring down at your shoes.

“What school project requires him to be at our place everyday for nearly a month?” Swan pointed, her eyebrows furrowing. Hendery nodded in agreement, affirming Swan’s point.

“You know how I am about school projects,” you muttered.

“Yeah, if you could do everything on your own and not talk to someone, you would,” Hendery scoffed, this time earning an affirming nod from Swan.

“I think you’re hurt,” Swan then smiled, causing you and your cousin to smile back at Ireh who was turning to you in a panicked state as the artist began the work on her tattoo.

“Why would I be hurt? He’s just doing his job,” you grumbled, crossing your arms.

“I think you want him to see you,” Swan’s voice rose in pitch, as if hoping you would understand what she was saying.

“He sees me almost everyday- that’s what you just complained about,” your response earned a groan from Hendery and Swan.

“Eeeep is something wrong?” Ireh cried, her eyes widening.

“Everything is great! Your tattoo looks great!” You rushed, shooting her a double thumbs up to help calm her down. She nodded and turned her head, the three of you sighing in relief.

“You want him to see you,” Hendery repeated Swan’s words, shooting you a knowing glance. You rolled your eyes, and listened to Hendery and Swan bicker over the lighting choice in the tattoo parlor as you all waited on Ireh’s tattoo artist to finish up.

“Does it look good?” Ireh asked as the three of you gawked at how incredible your drawing came out on her back, and an immense sense of pride overwhelmed you.

“It looks awesome,” Swan was taking a photo of it, the three of you now watching as the artist covered the tattoo in a clear bandage. It was one thing to know that people loved reading your work, it was a different feeling to see one of your closest friends get something specially made that you’ve done, forever on her flesh.

“This reminds me of that comic,” the tattoo artist snapped his fingers, trying to think. 

“Flight of the Wolves?” Hendery asked, earning a quick nod from the artist.

“Yep! At least the art style, it’s awesome,” he affirmed. After Ireh paid and you all said goodbye to the artist, you stepped out from the parlor and into the somewhat busy city center on a Saturday evening.

---

“You said you were going to invite people,” Jaemin sighed, carrying two boxes of pizza. Yangyang and Sungchan dragged Jaemin with them to pick up dinner for tonight, having previously said that they’d be having friends over.

“Yangyang, you know you can always just ask to hang out with us like normal people,” Sungchan chastised, shaking the sodas in his hands.

“Renjun and Chenle really said they couldn’t make it!” Yangyang countered, helping push back the throngs of people to clear the way for his two roommates until he suddenly stopped on the edge of the street. 

“Are you okay?” Sungchan asked him, shifting uncomfortably with the clunky sodas in his hand.

“Is that… Swan!” Yangyang called to the other side of the street. Jaemin followed Yangyang’s gaze and froze, seeing the small group standing outside of a tattoo parlor.

“Shit,” Jaemin muttered, nerves clinging to the pit of his stomach. When he had seen you yesterday to work on the project, he was met with mostly silence. You had truly only spoken to him regarding the work for the class, unlike the past few times when you would engage in conversations about anything and everything. Of course, he hadn’t told this to Yangyang and Sungchan because he was so embarrassed about it.

“Swan!” On the other side, you all heard your roommate's name get called out, and turned to the other side of the street to see a guy waving furiously at Swan with Sungchan and Jaemin flanking him.

“Oh, Yangyang!” Swan waved back, beckoning for them to cross the street. “How does he know Jaemin?” she turned to you expectantly. You shrugged. 

You really hoped to take this weekend to decompress and think about anything that was not your schoolmate. He had taken up enough of your mental energy you felt, and now running into him on the street after your weird conversation with Swan and Hendery felt like completely the wrong time to see him again.

“I haven’t seen you since summer camp!” Yangyang greeted, hugging Swan before waving to you all. You and Jaemin made awkward eye contact before you waved at him and Sungchan, forcing a smile.

“Yangyang was a camp counselor with me the summer before undergrad!” Swan explained.

“You guys look like you’re having a fun night,” Ireh noted, pointing at the pizza box in Jaemin’s hands.

“We thought so too until we realized Yangyang lied about inviting people over,” Sungchan chastised.

“Well, are you guys busy tonight?” Yangyang turned to you all, earning a mixed set of reactions. The four of you simply planned to go back to your place and watch a superhero movie, but it was something you all always did.

“No, we aren’t!” It was Hendery who spoke up, smiling as he looked between you and Jaemin. You shot him a death glare, fully irritated by your cousin's need to shove his nose into things that don’t pertain to him.

“Yeah, sounds like fun!” Swan chimed in, sharing a knowing look with Hendery. Oh I could kill them you thought to yourself.

Jaemin’s apartment seemed ill-equipped to handle the four additional people. The couch could take four people squeezing tightly onto it, sure, but that left two people to uncomfortably sit on stools, and the office chair Jaemin wheeled out from his room. Along with this chair, he rolled out a small stack of board games that he started to unload on the side of the coffee table since the pizza took up the small center space.

“I refuse to play Monopoly,” Hendery crossed his arm, his elbows hitting Swan and Yangyang. You were standing at the kitchen island with pizza in hand as Sungchan handed you the soda you had been waiting on.

“Thanks,” you muttered, taking a sip.

“You weren’t at the family dinner last week,” he noted, leaning his elbows on the island.

“Jaemin and I were finishing some stuff for the project,” you drank more from your soda to help cover the lie you told. Yes, Jaemin was there for the project, but while he was there he mentioned how he had never seen Howl’s moving castle, so after class you had invited him over to watch the movie.

“Sure, sure,” Sungchan smirked, making his way towards the living room. You hated how awkward it was between you and Jaemin. Walking to his apartment, you two would keep stealing glances, the other being either too nervous (Jaemin) or too prideful (you) to speak to the other.

You went to take the awkward stool by the coffee table when Jaemin extended his hand to stop you.

“I’ll take that, just sit here,” he gestured to his office chair that was supremely more comfortable than the stool. You went to protest, but he quickly leapt onto the stool, leaving only the chair to be available to you.

“Thanks,” you sat down on the chair, listening to the intense discussion over what game to play.

“I hate trivia pursuit,” Yangyang groaned, earning a sigh from Ireh who eyed the game longingly.

“What about a good old fashioned game of never have I ever,” Hendery suggested, earning him a raised eyebrow from everyone else.

“Do we look like we’re in high school?” you groaned, earning a snicker from everyone else.

“She’s right, Hendery. If this was high school her and Sungchan would be dating,” Yangyang spoke, earning a deep laugh from everyone on the couch, a groan from you and Sungchan, and pure silence from Jaemin.

“It was one date,” you repeated for what felt like the thousandth time. 

“Yeah, sure,” Ireh scoffed, and you quickly threw a napkin at her face.

“Let’s play never have I ever,” you lifted your hands, fully irritated. “Never have I ever gotten a tattoo.” Ireh stuck her tongue out at you as she put a finger down. The game was fairly standard until it reached Jaemin, an odd hush falling over the room as he seemed to ponder what to say.

“Never have I ever…  been good at drawing,” he tamely spoke. You, Yangyang, Hendery, and Swan shrugged, dropping a finger at this one.

You smiled, “never have I ever been good at photography.”

“Aw come on,” Hendery sighed, dropping a finger while Jaemin quietly did so, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Come on Swan, do something juicy,” Hendery egged on.

“I don’t think anyone here has anything crazy to share,” Ireh giggled, thinking it over. “Never have I ever… I don’t know- kissed anyone in this room?” There was a pause. “See? Nothing juicy.” 

Watching as Ireh shook her head at Hendery, you and Sungchan quietly tucked your fingers, hoping no one else would notice. But, Jaemin did.

“See? Nothing, I guess I’ll-.”

“Two people put their fingers down,” Jaemin yawned, cutting off Swan. You turned your head to Jaemin, and he shot a mischievous grin as if he enjoyed watching you bicker with people.

“Ha! I told you they’ve hooked up!” Yangyang lunged up from the couch, pointing to Jaemin furiously.

“We are adults, we were kids when that happened,” you argued. It was your first date ever, and despite how awkward and weird the evening was, you and Sungchan decided to get another task out of the way- your first kiss. It was weird, but despite that you both agreed that being friends was decidedly much better than forcing a romance that simply did not exist between the two of you.

“Don’t tell your parents that- they’ll cry,” Hendery chuckled.

“They’re crazy,” you affirmed, finishing the pizza slice you realized you had not finished yet.

“They seemed normal to me,” Jaemin chimed in.

You raised your eyebrow, “you were also drunk out of your mind.”

“At least he’s a funny drunk,” Sungchan punched his friend's arm, earning a smile from Jaemin, something in your chest warming up when you saw his smile.

“You say that because he wasn’t gawking at your parents,” you scoffed, earning a forced shocked face from Jaemin.

“I was not gawking at them,” he smiled then, that bright smile you had been hoping to see again, now finally directed at you.

You all took to playing a game of life, somewhat making your own rules on the board game as you all progressed and spoke the whole way through. It was odd how well everyone seemed to get along- seeming to joke and banter well while somehow managing to make it to the end of the game. Towards the end and while everyone else was distracted, Jaemin leaned over to you, the stool giving him an awkward height over you.

“I won’t keep working on this article if you don’t want me to,” it took you by surprise, and you looked over at him as if trying to assess his sincerity. Swan and Hendery’s words kept swimming in your head then. It clicked- you wanted him to see you- every part of you, including being able to piece together the identity you’ve been hiding from most people. You didn’t want him to be like most people- you wanted him to be different.

You gently squeezed the solo cup that held your soda before softly speaking, “you have to do what’s best for yourself sometimes.”

Jaemin wasn’t satisfied with this response, although he knew that he should be. He mulled over it the rest of the game and even while he drove the rest of you back to your place, mostly silent albeit for the bickering between Ireh, Swan, and Hendery in the backseat.

“Thanks Jaemin,” you went to exit the car when his hand reached over to gently stop you from leaving the car as your roommates already had. “Everything okay?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t know,” he wasn’t sure what he was hoping for, but one thing was for certain- he really liked being around you. Like, he really liked it. It made his head feel fuzzy and his cheeks hurt from smiling in the best way possible. “Do you like hanging out with me?”

You mulled over the question before nodding. “You’re kind of cool,” you joked, softly punching his arm. “Do you like hanging out with me?”

“Hm, I guess you’re cool,” Jaemin was smirking his mischievous smirk and you playfully scoffed.

“I’ll see you Monday, Jaemin,” you smiled, heading out of his car and waving before you entered your townhome to see your roommates and Hendery eagerly waiting for you in the living room.

“Please tell me you guys kissed,” Ireh had her hands holding her head, staring at you with wide eyes.

“You guys are so annoying- we’re just… friends?” it came out as a question, because even saying the word friend for Jaemin felt wrong.

“Yeah, sure,” Swan and Hendery chuckled.

---

Throughout all this a few things were clear to you- people were comparing your work to your parents, without your name even attached. The other thing was that Jaemin hated his job, and having a Senior position would allow him to move to a position he actually cared about. The last thing was that you deeply cared for Jaemin- this was the part that was still strange to you.

A week had passed, and Jaemin was organizing the final parts of your project as he waited to get a text back from you. You had told him you were having a later meeting than usual and would need an extra hour before you could meet and finalize the elements of your project. 

The day prior, after you and Jaemin watched Pride and Prejudice (he swore it was good), you emailed him the political cartoon you made. He opened up the attachment, and went blank as he stared at it.

When you drew the cartoon, you absentmindedly drew characters you were comfortable with to help convey your message on the environment- specifically, the lead wolf character from Flight of the Wolves. This wasn’t what caught Jaemin off guard, though, it was your signature in the corner.

It seems you were so used to intertwining the characters with Patches, that you instinctually signed it off as such, not even realizing it when you sent it to Jaemin.

Jaemin leapt up from his office chair, snatching the Patches signature he had on his corkboard and bringing it up to his computer screen. He compared it to the scanned drawing of yours, the signatures naturally matching. No way. Jaemin felt crazy. He rushed out of his room, running over and barging into Sungchan’s room.

Sungchan was surprised by his roommates' boldness, shutting the book he was taking notes on and waiting for Jaemin to speak.

“Y/N, when she was younger, did she write a lot? Draw a lot?” his voice was panicked, and he rushed through his words.

“Oh yeah, duh. All the time.”

“Did she draw animals a lot by any chance?”

“Hmm,” Sungchan thought it over before he got up from his bed, digging around in his desk to take out a notebook from high school. Flipping through a few pages, he found the doodles you had left there for him before passing it to Jaemin who stared at the works in awe. “Hers and Hendery’s nickname for me was a baby deer,” he pointed at the numerous tiny deers before pointing at the anthromorphic wolf in the upper corner, “but this was her favorite thing to draw.”

“Holy shit,” Jaemin spoke under his breath. That was your main character- albeit, slightly more rudimentary than what he was now, but it was obvious. “Y/N is Patches.”

“It took you that long to figure it out?” Sungchan took the notebook back from Jaemin’s shaky hands, tucking it back away into his desk.

“Wait, you knew?”

“Oh yeah. It was obvious, but I’ve just never said anything. I figured if she was going by a pseudonym, it was for a reason,” Sungchan shrugged as he laid back in his bed to keep reading.

“I… I told her I thought it was Hendery,” Jaemin gulped. He was ashamed that he didn’t know, but didn’t know why he felt this way.

“Yikes, she was upset huh?” Sungchan returned to reading his book, only glancing up at his friend to give him a ‘you fucked up’ look. 

“I have to go talk to her,” Jaemin sloppily put on the first pair of shoes by the front door, grabbing his phone as he rushed down the stairs and into the streets headed to your place. He chastised himself as he ran through the rain, knowing he would catch a cold even if your place was only a few blocks away from his.

---

“I plan to reveal to the writer from GameLabs, and make my first in person appearance at the WizMedia conference,” you told Kun at the end of your meeting, earning a sharp look from him.

“I thought you were going to reveal at the conference,” Kun whined, flipping through his notes to verify your original discussion. While this was your original plan, you knew that for Jaemin, getting your identity was one thing, but if he managed to also get an interview from you confirming this, it would do wonders to have under his belt.

It was a stupid thing, but, so was falling for Jaemin.

“I changed my mind. I’ll have him run the interview by you beforehand, Kun,” you paused then, “and thank you for everything. I can’t wait to start on this next series.”

Kun was taken aback by your sudden note of appreciation, momentarily forgetting the corrections he was going to have to make. “It’s been great working with you so far, and I can’t wait to keep making more great works with you.”

After hanging up, you sat on your living room couch, listening to the rain pounding outside. Your roommates had left to work earlier, so all that was left was seeing Jaemin before class. There was a loud knock at your door, drawing your attention from your own thoughts as you got up to open it.

Your eyes widened to see Jaemin out of breath and drenched in the rain, clutching his chest.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry!” he shouted over the rain, catching you off guard.

“Jaemin oh my god come inside!” you ignored his apology, rushing him inside and shutting the door. “I’m grabbing you a towel.”

When you came back with a towel, Jaemin took to sitting on your kitchen floor, holding his knees to his chest as the rain dripping off of him pooled around his hunched figure. “Now why would you run in the rain when you have a car?” You were doing your best to dry his hair, passing the towel over in a frantic mess. He grabbed your wrists gently, and you looked down at his hooded eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice low. You huffed, passing the towel over his face to dry off the rain that sat on his cheeks, trying desperately to ignore how handsome he looked despite the mess.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” you decided to ask, since he seemingly wasn’t going to let go of whatever it was. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you until now,” his eyes were pleading, his hand moving up to make you let go of the towl and hold on to his hand. “I accused you of being a fangirl and didn’t even… consider… that it was you. You’re Patches,” he choked out, squeezing your hand tightly as if you’d let go. You blinked quickly, surprised that he figured it out before you told him.

“H-How?” you sputtered out.

“You signed your assignment as Patches, and everything else just… fell into place.”

You let go of your other hand to smack your forehead, realizing that you indeed impulsively signed it as your pseudonym. “I’m an idiot,” you groaned. “I wanted to tell you myself.”

“Why would you want to do that?” it was his turn to be surprised, dropping both of your hands onto his lap.

“I want you to get that job promotion. You hate it there, but a couple months in a senior position would help you easily get a job in Sports Artistry. I wanted you to do an interview with Patches,” your voice when soft, the two of you staring diligently at the other in an attempt to search for any other meaning behind the others’ eyes.

“I don’t want a job that requires me to potentially hurt someone I care about for a promotion,” Jaemin sighed, moving the towel with his free hand off his head. Maybe it was the way his hair fell on his face when it was half wet, maybe it was the pleading way he was looking at you, or maybe it was the feeling you got when he said that he cared about you, but whatever it was it set a feeling off inside you that you couldn’t control.

Jaemin surprisingly leaned forward first, and your lips met him halfway in a crash. You had been wondering how soft his lips would feel against yours, and they were better than you could have imagined. His hand held yours still, tighter than before. It was as if he was scared that you were going to slip away from him. 

“It was probably a dumb decision to run here in the rain, huh?” Jaemin chuckled, your foreheads leaning against each other. He moved his hand to caress your cheek, and stare into your eyes, watching as they seemed to gleam looking back at him.

“It was a great, stupid decision,” you affirmed, kissing the tip of his nose before going to meet his lips again. A wonderfully dumb decision, and the first of many you two would make for each other.

AN: Hi guys! I hoped you all enjoyed this short story :) It was really fun writing this ~normal~ fic lol. Next work I have on deck is a weird sci-fi-ish Sungchan leading fic that I'm still in the midst of working on. I hope you'll stick around to read it! In the mean time, here is another completed work of mine, and feel free to drop an ask anytime! Thank you for reading <3 -Nat

[discoerot1ca]

tw: self-harm, blood

do you wanna be sad boys together? let’s be sad boys together.

I lie on the floor of his room. it’s carpeted, my favorite kind of floor to lie on. and his eyes are such a beautiful brown, not as beautiful as my first beautiful boy, but I have a photo from when the sun captured them just right and I swear you could slap that shit on any magazine cover and people would believe he was a model. (the jawline helps, and the freckles, and the curls, and his mouth… my god, his mouth.)

he likes when I run my fingertips along his skin in circles, tracing out rivers and cursive letters. it’s so hot here in the summer, but the box fan is helping. he has three kitties- two are somewhere else right now, and one is on his bed looking at us.

it’s one of the few times we are both piercingly honest. I told him I loved him last week, and he had the loveliest response, even though it wasn’t I love you too. he has his sketchbook out, page open on another mushroom girl. the first one is tattooed on his ankle, still healing. by the time I am through with knowing him, angel wings will be inked out across his back. I will have been there to see them born and will have rubbed aquaphor into them a few times over, hands gliding over bare skin, pointedly not looking at his chest in the mirror. there were many parts of him I was never to see, and I kept my promises.

but this is not that time. in this moment, we watched all of yuri on ice while cuddling on his bed last night. I know his dogs’ names. his mother likes me. we haven’t been to the reunion yet, but I’ll charm his family when we go, and when he decides he wants to leave me his parents will try to change his mind. he will tell me this on a park bench after a silent three-mile walk in which we both know the end is coming. in this moment we each have a sweater the other wove art into. our birthdays occur within a week of each other. the pink sweatshirt he’s wearing now is from walmart- I was there when he bought it, and I will be the one to keep it. in his closet is his favorite jacket, it was his dad's first. (I keep that too.)

he was careful to keep me out of the picture when he talked about his future. when we went out to his grandparents’ land and his parents talked about inheriting it, he took us off-roading. I still have his long long starbucks order in my phone- do you want to see it?

grande syrup cream frappuchino,

with almond milk,

7 pumps sugar free vanilla,

1 pump white mocha,

3 scoops dragon fruit inclusions,

1 pump blending base,

extra caramel drizzle (around the cup),

caramel crunch topping,

and light whipped cream.

when I would pull up to the drive-thru, if it was one of his coworkers who took my order, they would call over to him- “your wife is here.” before I asked him out for the first time, I gave him a card with my dog’s paw print stamped on, a thank-you from my puppy for the puppuchinos we would always get. he pinned it up to their corkboard. he fell asleep halfway on our drive to california. six months later, I would be riding out there with someone else.

and I don’t have anything else to say, it’s not a story I really tell. we stayed in the beach town my parents were married in. in the place my mom went to college, we got tattoos, he the mushroom girl and me a design he sketched for me. in all he got three tattoos while we were dating, and I think I was there for every one of them. I held his hand when I was getting mine, it was on my ribs. he liked to take the leash when we walked my dog. can you see us lying on the floor? we were sad boys together. he pierced my ears. he took me to a drive-in movie. my mom was so impressed- I think this is the longest relationship you’ve ever been in. and I had to remind her no, you just never took my first one seriously. he likes the city we live in, doesn’t like to travel for too long. he buys us matching teddy bears in a thrift store. I still sleep with mine every night. I wonder if his ended up back where it started.

( - I don't miss him. it's a beautiful story and a beautiful boy. after it was over I tried to scrub away the stick-and-poke he gave me three times, and when I say scrub I mean until it was bleeding, ice and blade and skin. he used to mock my low pain tolerance. he left his starbucks mask in my car, and I washed it and wore it a year later when I got my own job at that awful coffee chain, when I got my free drinks on my own, when I was no one's wife and three thousand miles from our city and got my rib tattoo touched up by myself. I started watching atla with him; I never got to finish it.)

maybe you’d discourage me from the analogy, but your letters have slowly begun to make me view you as a lovely patchwork quilt. each memory stitched in snug, each patch just as colorful as its neighbour. this is one of the patches, and i imagine it as blood-spattered and sewn in with suture stitches. but the scene is beautiful—two lovers driving out over the coast. the sadness isn’t immediately visible.

i don’t have nearly as many stories, or things i can remember. the other day i observed that I’ve forgotten most of my childhood. which is sad, if you think about it for too long. but i know it’s probably my brain’s way of protecting me from processing shit I’m not ready for.

the items you list in your stories resonate with me, though, particularly this one. yuri on ice, mushrooms, puppucinos, stick and pokes. not to say those sad boys are a dime a dozen, but they’re (sadly) more common than I’d like them to be. these sad boys let the sadness into their hands. they will explain that you deserve better and that is the reason why they go. (it happened during the initial split, but this time he came around and realized he was wrong.) they will give you their hand gestures, throw up peace signs at cars when they cross the street (i do that to buses now), wave with only their index finger (i looked it up, it’s called a “flirty wave”, which i think is hilarious), sign “that bitch” (about your mom, after they are given permission).

you, too, are sentimental. you like to hold onto things from the past, from those you’ve loved before, and if my heart wasn’t soft for you before, it is now. i believe this about everyone, but you especially are bad at being cold, at being unfeeling. you can tell when the sunlight hits your love’s eyes, when the stars fall down over their face and settle into their freckles. you can tell when they leave out “i love yous”, you are there for their moments. for a moment, let’s assume that even though you don’t miss them, past loves are thinking of you too, in a fond light. not enough to be unfaithful to their current and future loves, but fond nonetheless. let’s assume that those tattoos are still there, the bear is sitting on a shelf somewhere and is taken down once a year, to remember. let’s assume that when he realized the jacket was missing he cried for hours, remembering.

i guess i can’t help but be in awe of you—you’re kind of the embodiment of that quote that says that no love is ever wasted. each letter just further proves that point. but you deserve someone who will remember to love you in every way possible. through word, through deed, through jacket-over-cold-shoulders, through i-don’t-know-what-to-eat-i’ll-make-something-for-you, through i-love-you-im-staying.

i used to be the type of person that would take the negging lying down, would laugh it off. now i say, that’s not funny, you don’t talk to someone you love like that. and you know, they actually listen, and say they’re sorry, and then don’t talk like that again. it’s fun to tease, but not at the expense of being loving, being kind and gentle. of which you seem to be all three, deep down. so i hope you receive that energy back when the time is right.

[katnisscarter]

It’s truly amazing how one year has changed me. I really do just love waking up and doing whatever I want or feel. I feel so pretty and it has nothing to do with how a man perceives me. I’ve even been thinking about getting my own place once I pass my boards. I thought apartment but honestly the money I’ll be making I could look for a house. I can grow flowers and get plants. Of course there’s things I miss, and times I just wish he was here but im living with it yknow. Like I’ve just come to the conclusion that I’ll always have this deep love for him, but if he doesn’t want it I can’t force it. I have the love but I can give it to myself too. I love giving love but I spent 23 years giving it to everyone else and never myself. I guess the fall from grace gave me the opportunity to look at myself and tell her im sorry. God am I sorry. Im over a year sober. Im half a year self harm clean. I even got one of my first self harm cover up tattoos. Im dying my hair like I want. I got my nose pierced finally. Im spending time studying but it’s not my whole life. I painted for the first time in over a year yesterday. I taught myself a new art form this year. I picked up a journal and started scrapbooking. I actually make food for myself and don’t get nauseated while eating anymore. I’m learning about how to connect with the universe. I’m learning to let things go. I’m learning it’s okay to not wish someone well, but don’t wish them ill. Just don’t wish them anything.

I grieve for myself, who I was a year ago. I grieve for 14 yr old me trying to kill herself. I grieve for 15 yr old me who spent her lunches throwing up in the bathroom. I grieve for 16yr old me who thought a boy calling me nice things was enough. I grieve for 17yr old me who was not asked for consent. I grieve for 19 yr old me who failed at something for the first time. I grieve for 20yr old me who laid on the floor and cried until there was no sound. I grieve for 21yr old me who picked up that joint. I grieve for 22yr old me who lost everything; who lost her purpose, her greatest love, her friends, her sanity. I grieve for her, but I look down at the hands who killed her and I am thankful. I look in the mirror and I am thankful for her. I am thankful because all those fragments of time where I couldn’t fucking breathe led me to right now. The woman I am now. Who wakes up in the morning and feels neutral. Who dances in the kitchen while cooking. Who sings in the shower again. Who smiles and it’s in her eyes again. Who scrapbooks for hours. Who makes art for herself for once. Who sits with her feelings and listens to them. Who has concerts alone in her car. Who laughs so hard she cries. Who still chooses love after so much loss. Who still chooses love after sobbing with inhuman noises for weeks not moving from bed. Who chooses to put one foot in front of the other. Who graduated nursing school at 23. Im thankful for her, for finally choosing to give all that love to herself.

& although I frequently find a thin veil of grief over everything good that comes to me because I do not get to share it with you, I still choose love. In fact through all of this last year I never once had anything but. There was never an ounce of hate seething from my lips, there was only the sweet drip of honey when I said your name. And I am at peace. If you return one day I’ll take you in my arms and welcome you home. If you do not, I will wrap my arms around myself and find my own home. See, a year ago I thought I could not live without you. It’s not true, I very much can and have. I do not need you. The difference now is although I do not need you, I want you. I want to choose you. I want to call you when I hear good news. I want to pick up gummy sharks when I go to the gas station. I want to share my life with you. I want to build my life with you. But I’ve come to this realization; I do not need to. I am enough on my own. And the distinction of wanting to choose you over feeling the need to, well, that makes all the difference.

[heartylunalys]

Gorgeous

Tattoo artist!jungkook x black female reader (can be read by anyone tho)

f2l au

my masterlist

*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅**⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

Genre: Fluff, smut

Words: 5k

Warning: mature language, oral (m receiving), fingering, slight choking, smut, mention of “cheating” if you can call it like that, reader gets a tattoo, semi-public sex, car sex

Notes: •I recently had my first tatoo hehe

•Jungkook tattoos are making me crazy so I had to do this fic.

•English is not my native language so sorry if there is any mistake!

*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅**⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

The first time you met your neighbor was when you were surrounded by moving boxes way too heavy for you alone. You were now sighing in the hall of your new building, tired of all the back-and-forths you were doing and feeling like your arms were about to fall. As you lifted another box from the ground and prepared yourself mentally to affront the stairs, a soft voice surprised you.

“Do you need help?”

You slowly turned around, your gaze meeting one of the most handsome boys you ever saw. Your eyes scanned his body, first his wavy brown (more like black in fact) hair, his eyes seemed so innocent and vibrant, there was like a childish sparkle in them, and his lips, god his smile and the cute mole just below his bottom lip. But the best part was even below, his jaw was sharp, and while seeing his neck you wanted nothing more than to let your mouth travel on his skin while leaving purple marks. Your eyes rapidly traveled his chest but nothing was being seen from the black shirt he was actually wearing. What really caught your attention was his right arm, totally covered in ink, his arm seemed to flex a little bit like he sensed that you were checking him out and you couldn’t help but let your gaze scruts each piece of art before stopping on his hand that where also decorated in art and that were mostly fucking sexy.

A nervous chuckle made you regain your senses and you opened your eyes to watch directly on those of the beautiful stranger in front of you. You finally understood that the poor guy was probably totally uncomfortable with being watched like this and that moreover, he was waiting for an answer.

“Please,” your voice was shaking and a pleading tone could be heard in it. Jungkook could feel the effect on your voice directly in his pants, imagining the word and your tone in another circumstance but quickly remembered that your voice was certainly like that because you spent your day going up and down the stairs and your pleasing tone was definitely because you couldn’t do it anymore.

“Here, let me have this then.” He chuckled, taking the box from your hands and looking straight into your eyes. You indicated your apartment while taking a box to bring it to your new house. While hearing your indication he almost squeaked in excitement, you, the fine ass girl who just totally checked him out and that can’t even look at him without shying away was gonna be his neighbor.

Jungkook helped you all afternoon, once everything was done you finally decided to ask him if he wanted to take a coffee with you so you could learn to know each other, strictly platonically of course. He nodded eagerly, not even letting you finish your sentence.

——————-

After hanging out for 2 months, you and Jungkook quickly realized that you had a lot in common. You learned that Jungkook is a well known tattoo artist, he showed you his Instagram and his book with his designs that you found all extremely original and beautiful. You couldn’t help but fall for his talent and you even decided to have a very little tattoo done by your neighbor and friend in a place it wouldn’t affect your work, under your right breast.

“ You know you don’t need to do a whole tattoo just to show me your boobs,” jungkook chuckled while sterilizing his material. You just glared at him, feeling already a little bit nervous not because of the gorgeous friend who was about to ink your skin, well a little bit because of that too, but you were mostly anticipating the pain. However you were glad Jungkook was the one doing it, you don’t think you’ll feel comfortable showing someone else your body like this even though it was strictly professional.

“ So…lift your top for me gorgeous,” Jungkook demanded sweetly and you shyly (more like awkwardly actually) raised your top, exposing your breast. The contact of the cold hair, and jungkook gaze on your skin made your nipple harden, you cursed under your breath, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t the first time I’m seeing tits nor the first time I’m tattooing it,” he laughed and you couldn’t help but laugh in return, seeing his beautiful eyes almost sparkling from his laugh. And for the first time today you took a good look at your tattoo artist. Jungkook was as gorgeous as any other day, but the black face mask and the matching gloves he wore was making you crazy. You let your eyes look at him like it was the first time you were seeing him, and it felt like it actually, everyday with jungkook was like the first day. He never stopped caring, always making sure you were fine, coming to your apartment to check if you already ate, and if not he made sure to cook you something and bring it to you. You couldn't help but fall for Jungkook quite fastly. In only two months he was here, making you completely crazy for him.

And here he was, seeing the body of the girl he fantasized so much about, jungkook couldn't help but stare a little bit at your chest,acting like it was strictly for the tattoo. He gently lifted your breast to put the stencil at the place you choose. He showed you one last time, making sure that everything was good for you and prepared himself to begin.

“If it hurts too much, please tell me so we can take a break,” his gaze was so soft, you gently nodded.

———————

After what felt like an eternity, Jungkook finally finished your tattoo, and Lord, the boy sure knew what he was doing. The piece of art they covered your skin was handsome, not a single flaw could be seen and the design was complimenting your skin colour so well. Jungkook's eyes were fixated on you, and at this moment there was nothing more he wanted than to just stop the time and admire your beauty for the rest of his life.

You don't know why you did that, don't even know how you built up the courage to do that but you hugged your neighbour. You guess it was because of the over amount of joy you felt. The euphoria you were feeling just kept increasing once he hugged you back and the gentle sensation of his heartbeat against you was almost making you feel dizzy. You finally ended the hug, seeing his eyes as brilliant as a million stars once you were finally back in front of him.

“jungkook?” you shyly called his name even though he was just in front of you. His name just rolled so well off your tongue.

“sweetie?” he mocked you and you chuckled before playfully beating his shoulder.

“You didn't tell me the tattoo’s price, how much I own you dumbass?” you suddenly saw the way he nervously fidgeted with his tattooed fingers.

“About that..” The panic washed over your face, was he gonna make you pay billions of dollars? After all, the beauty of the tattoo made you wonder if it weren't actually the price of it.

“I was wondering if you could accept a date with me in exchange...God, I'm so so sorry if it sounds like a creep’s request it’s just that..”

You took his hand in your, shutting him and making his face raise to look from his hands to your face.

“I'd love to go on a date with you Jungkook,”

“But?” he lowered his head in defeat and you're sure that if he had bunny ears, they would have flattened.

“I feel like it wouldn't be enough for all the time, precision and patience you put into this piece” you hesitated and he just cupped your cheek, the soft grip of his hand on your skin created little goosebumps.

“Please, there is nothing I want more right now than to take you out. Please sweetie, say yes for me,” the slight smirk that decorated his face confirmed to you that he totally knew that his pleading tone was making you completely crazy.

“text me the infos,” you simply said before exiting his workplace, your head and pussy going completely crazy over him.

———————

Jungkook finally texted you, saying that he would simply pick you up at 8. You didn't know what he was planning, and even more you didn't know what to wear nor how to style your hair and in fact you didn't even have time to do it. Your last date was a complete disaster, and you'll be lying if you said that you were mentally ready to give Jungkook a chance. You were totally freaking out, afraid of being awkward, not knowing how to flirt, too boring for him. What if he didn’t like your outfit? What if he didn’t like you? You quickly assembled your thoughts, reminding yourself that if he didn’t want you it’ll be his loss not yours.

As you were practically hyperventilating from the stress you heard the 3 little, almost melodious, knocks on your door, signaling that jungkook was already here. You tried to calm your racing heart and opened your door with shaking hands.

“Hey…” you mentally slapped yourself for letting your voice show all your stress.

“God..y/n, your fucking gorgeous,” his eyes traveled from your hair to the bottom of your body, already feeling the hot sensation in his body. You were smocking hot, you were giving him fuck me eyes without even realizing, your glossed lips made him crazy, your tits looked full, your neck too inviting for his hand, your thighs, god your thighs and mostly those curls who complimented perfectly your face and your beauty. You smiled timidly before he handed you his hand that you took hoping that he would not realize how much your palm was sweating.

You were now in Jungkook's car, admiring his side profile and the way the beginning of the night complimented his features. You froze, seeing his tattooed hand. In two months of knowing Jungkook you never adjusted to the feeling you had every time you saw his hand. You wanted nothing more than just get yourself off on his long and pretty fingers, seeing your juice coating his tattoos.

“Gorgeous?” His voice helped you exit your thoughts even though the wetness in your panties made sure you didn’t forget what you were actually thinking about.

“We’re arrived,” he smiled and exited the car to open your door, after that he gently took your hand in his and helped you exit his car. The first thing you saw was the beauty of the park complimented by the light of the moon. Jungkook took something off the back of his car, a basket more precisely. Picnic? Jungkook installed a sheet on the grass, confirming your theory.

“So, I absolutely don’t know how to cook, so I took takeouts, I hope you don’t mind,” he humorously pouted and you smiled at the cute gesture before assuring him that everything was fine.

The two of you ate while talking, sharing your point of views on different subjects, your passions. Jungkook felt his heart skip a beat everytime your eyes lighted up while talking about something you liked. With each second with you he felt the urge to plant his lips on yours, the way your full lips opened and closed with everything you said was making him go crazy. In the middle of one of your sentences, Jungkook stopped you by putting his hand on your cheek, looking at you affectionately, going from your eyes to your mouth and back to your eyes. After what felt like an eternity you finally felt the lips of the boy you wanted to taste so bad on yours. Jungkook was a soft kisser, taking his time to mold your mouth with his, to taste your lips. The only thing that could be heard now was the soft sound of your lips smacking and the soft whimpers that one of you let out sometimes. He was the one stopping the kiss, watching you intensely, his cheeks were a little bit red and boths your lips were swollen. The view was too much for you, leading your lips to kiss Jungkook again, feeling the taste of his mouth, softly nibbling on your lips while laying you on the ground, overwhelming you with the warmth of his body on top of yours.

He stopped kissing you only to bring attention to your jaw and neck, sucking and gently biting your skin while his hands were traveling under your top to caress your sides. He could feel the goosebumps on your skin under his warm inked hand.

“Jungkook…” your voice was pleading him, making all his blood go to his lower part. However, you didn’t even know what you were pleading for, his touch, his kisses, his hand where you needed him the most.

“Tell me what you want gorgeous or I can't give it to you,” he smirked while watching your face.

“I need you here please jungkook…,” you lightly took his hand to place it on your most needed part. your demanding brown eyes were directly drowned in his and at this moment, the fact that you were at the park (enough alone for no one to catch you) was not important anymore. Jungkook hooked his fingers on your shorts, sliding it down slowly, taking in the sight of your soft and sweet black skin.

“Cute panties,” Jungkook softly laughed while touching the wet patch your pussy had made on it.

“You should start using your pretty mouth to eat my pussy, pretty face,” you responded, making him look at you with need. His lips hungrily entered in contact with your panties, leaving wet kisses on your clothed cunt.

“Jungkook, just rip my fucking panties and eat me out,” and what you wanted, you get. Jungkook literally destroyed your panties before licking a long strip of you. He knew exactly what he was doing, licking and sucking your pussy the way you needed it the most. His long fingers quickly entered you, making your back arches in pleasure and letting your hand travel to his hair.

“Look at you, being fucked by my fingers in public like the slut you are, my girl can’t even wait until she’s home. Do you really deserve this?” He maintained eye contact with you and you felt completely crazy because of the pleasure.

Suddenly his fingers quickly got out of you and the next thing you saw was his tongue around his own fingers, licking the arousal off of it while smirking at you. Jungkook was smoking hot.

“You want to go home? You’re basically eye fucking me right now? ” You simply nodded while Jungkook laughed before standing up and picking you up from the floor.

——————

Jungkook installed you in the car after cleaning your picnic. You still haven’t worn your panties yet and the boy’s hand was dangerously close to your needy pussy.

“God y/n, I can smell your arousal from here, can’t you just wait a little bit hm? Are you a slut so bad?” He sidewatched you with a sly smile. And you simply took his hand to place it on your warm pussy. Jungkook laughed a little bit, playing with your clit while parking his car in what seemed to be a hidden street or parking. Honestly, you didn’t care, your mind was clouded by the urge of your neighbor cock.

“Guess I need to take you right here in my car right? My good little slut can’t even wait a little bit,” you gently moaned while listening to his deep voice.

He quickly sat in the backseat before installing you on him and more precisely on his thigh. Your wetness was completely ruining his pants but he didn’t seem to mind, seeing your blown pupils and your parted full lips was too fucking much for him. While he was watching you closely you were chasing your orgasm on his thigh, moaning his name every time he flexed his thigh to help you.

He didn't know why but your lips were exciting him too much, he couldn’t help but put his thumb against your bottom lip and moaned when you took it in your mouth, sucking it gently. Jungkook knew that sooner or later it would be his cock.

“I’m gonna…” your voice was trembling, making his cock twitch and his thigh was completely soaked in your arousal. His hands violently grabbed your waist, helping you finish on him.

“Go on gorgeous,” he sucked harshly on your neck, leaving purple marks on it while your body was slightly shaking from your orgasm.

He gently caressed your hair while you reposed your head on his chest.

“Let me suck you off Jungkook,” he simply smiled at you before quickly pecking your lips.

“I’m not really a fan of car sex,” he gently replaced you next to him before hopping on the front seat of the car and pointing the seat next to him where you seated feeling little bit defeated.

———————

The rest of the ride was silent, jungkook finally drove the two of you home quite rapidly. You cut were now in the elevator, devouring him with your eyes. He was so handsome, casually looking through his phone, slightly laughing from time to time.

Once the elevator arrived at your floor he gestured for you to go first.

“What a gentleman,” you laughed.

“Yeah yeah, you have a nice ass you know?” You acted like you were shocked by his words while it was his turn to laugh.

“Yeah? Then why don’t you just touch it, pretty boy ?” You smirked and Jungkook grabbed your ass, approaching his face so close to yours.

Just when you were in front of your door struggling to find your keys with jungkook lips on your neck and his hand cupping your ass perfectly, the door of jungkook violently opened and you instantly recognized his roommate, Hoseok. The second thing you saw was the completely drunk look he has and the last thing was the way he vomited in front of him. Jungkook froze for a moment, watching between you and his roommate before groaning in frustration.

“Jungkookie, bros before hoes, help me wash this!” The drunk boy yelled, you chuckled and pushed your neighbor in the direction of his door before opening your and closing it in his shocked face.

———————

You didn’t see Jungkook for a long time after that night. You were too busy studying and he was too busy working and… hooking up with different girls. You felt awful, hearing him fuck with someone else and because of that, you did your possible to ignore him, verifying he was gone before going out of your apartment and not answering his multiple texts or the sound of your doorbell. You didn’t even know why you were this sad but the thing you know is that you didn’t even have enough energy to do your wash day and your hair was barely surviving. And let’s not even talk about your face or even worse, your apartment.

The only time you could breath fresh air was the 5 minutes you took to go take your mail. And today was no exception. Once you had your mail you runned to your home, hoping to be alone in the stairs. Mission accomplished, you were in front of your door in a record time fighting with your door handle. And since you didn’t have any luck, as you were attacking it, your door handle broke and if you didn’t seemed dumb before you definitely were now, standing right here dumbfounded with the broken part of your door in your hand. You were just going to ask a neighbor, everything was fine and you could go home before Jungkook even had the occasion to see you.

“Y/n? Do you need help?” Shit, you could recognize this voice between a million. You took a deep breath, hoping it was just your nerves playing tricks on you and turned around petrified. Of course Jungkook was already coming to you to inspect the situation. And god, he was beautiful as always, just like you in his eyes, he admired your natural features and everything seemed perfect to him.

“I don’t know how to repair that but we can just wait for hoseok, I'm sure he’ll know what to do. Let’s stay at my place for the moment,” he shyly smiled at you, contrasting totally with the usual confident persona he arbored. You followed him to his apartment, yelling in your head at your bad luck.

“Do you wanna drink something?” His back was facing you while he was searching in his fridge to find you something. You could see his muscles flexing.

“No thanks Jungkook, I’m already so sorry to be here, I’m not gonna devore your fridge in addition,” you let out an awkward and anxious laugh and he just scratched his neck before sitting next to you, still leaving a distance between the two of you.

“Did I do something you didn’t like during the date Y/N? I’m sorry if I did, I thought you wanted this as much as me even though it was very early. I should have asked you better,” his wide eyes were fixated on yours, scrutinizing your expression to try to decipher it.

“Jungkook…what are you talking about?” You were sincerely lost.

“I don’t know, since the date you completely ghosted me and I guess I just did something bad to you, did I make you uncomfortable?” You scanned from his face down to his hands and noted the way he was fidgeting. You gently wrapped your hand over his.

“I loved the date, everything was perfect and I don’t regret it. It’s just that… I guess we weren’t on the same page about the, I don’t know, the evolution of our relationship,” you were struggling to find your words and he simply pouted.

“You must have thought that I was a fuckboy, I’m so sorry, I like you a lot you know? I shouldn’t have done all of that on the first date,”

“What? Jungkook No ! I wanted this as much as you. I just… I didn’t talk to you anymore because I saw that you were..seeing other persons,” you felt so embarrassed to explain yourself right now, feeling like you were overreacting. The size of Jungkook's eyes doubled as he looked at you completely shocked before stuttering.

“What are you talking about?” He gently lifted your chin when you were looking everywhere but his eyes.

“The girls I heard in your apartment,” his piercing eyes were planted in yours.

“The girls who come to see my roommate when I’m at work?” He smirked and you realized that he was right, they were always here when he wasn’t and you couldn’t feel more dumb that now. You nodded slightly and Jungkook chuckled.

“And you were so jealous that you didn’t even check if I was home or better, talk to me about it?” You still nodded but the beautiful face of Jungkook was slowly and sensually approaching yours.

“Maybe I should kiss those pretty lips to show you how much I like them and only them,” he said confidently, eying your mouth while you were pleading him with your eyes. He gently took your bottom lip between his teeth, making you moan softly before completely kissing you. The kiss wasn’t soft, it was needy and filled with lust and frustration from all the time he didn’t get to kiss you. His hands quickly found your waist and he had no issue putting you on his lap to intensify the kiss. You broke it after some minutes to regain your breath and Jungkook was already attacking your neck, sucking on it like the dirty sounds you made was his reason to live. His hands quickly found their way down your shirt, caressing from your waist skin to your breast. You already felt the pool between your legs, aching for Jungkook.

“Bedroom..please..” you couldn’t even talk properly.

“You don’t wanna be fucked on the couch gorgeous?” He placed you on his hard dick, earning sounds of pleasure from you while he guided your movements. You nodded frantically, the feeling of jungkook’s length rubbing your pussy was too much to handle.

Your reaction made him chuckle before he led you to the bedroom. In a fraction of second you were laying on his bed, him on top of you watching you with need.

“You’re so beautiful y/n, you’re making me so hard, you must take care of it you know?” His pupils were looking right into yours. He sat himself next to you and you watched him in awe, it was like Apollo was sitting next to you, pleading you to fuck him. You had to obey after all. You installed yourself on the floor, between his legs as you unzipped his pants and softly lowered it and his underwear at the same time. Jungkook watched you intensely and put his hand on your cheek, gently caressing it.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want it gorgeous” he softly said.

“I want it, I want to have your dick in my mouth jungkook, please” he chuckled at your words, your eyes were seducing him and he scanned your pretty face.

“What a slut” your pussy clenched at his dirty talk and you quickly took him in your mouth, finally feeling him like you wanted. His hand quickly found your hair as you sucked him off hungrily. His panting breaths were making you crazy and your hand found your throbbing pussy.

“Fuck, y/n keep doing it like that, I love seeing you like that,” he managed to say between his grunts and moans. Your eyes filled with tears as his length hit the back of your throat. Jungkook caressed your cheek lovingly before stopping you.

“I want to make you feel good too,” he smirked lightly, you were still on your knees and your eyes were fixed on him almost innocently.

“Then fuck me hard, Jungkook, please” you begged feeling the wetness of your pussy and its clenches. Jungkook bit his bottom lip, admiring the scene he had in front of him before kissing you harshly. At the same time his hands quickly found your tits, caressing them and playing with your nipple, drowning in the sound of pleasure you were making.

In a fraction of second you were back on his bed with his mouth attached to your left breast, hungrily sucking and biting your nipple while his hand was exploring your body before finding your pussy. Jungkook was playing with your clit before coating his fingers with your arousal and putting them in you. Your back arched in pleasure, moaning his name like it was the only thing you could say right now. He released your nipple from his mouth with a loud pop before talking to you with a voice full of lust.

“You take my fingers so well, I can’t wait to see how you take my dick” you bit your lips and felt his fingers touch your sensitive spot.

“Oh my god Jungkook, just here, perfect,” York breath was irregular and Jungkook could feel your pussy clench on his fingers making his cock twitch by the same occasion.

You could already feel your release with how good Jungkook's fingers were and his occasionals grunts and with a loud cry of his name you came on his fingers. Jungkook watched with arousal your face, imagining it covered in his cum. His fingers were coated in your juice and he waited until the end of your high to take them off of you.

“Such a good girl, look at all of that,” he said while admiring his fingers before tasting them, licking every drop of your juice. Your mouth hung open, not knowing how to react to the scene in front of you. Jungkook looked like an absolute incubus, his eyes filled with lust and his mouth glistened from your arousal.

“On your fours now,” he instructed softly and you obeyed. He placed himself behind you, gripping your ass firmly before giving it a little slap. After that, you heard him open a condom and put it on him. His hand traveled on your ass before caressing your back and finally pushing your head on the mattress. He gently caressed your hair.

“Tell me when you want me to stop gorgeous,” you could hear the smirk in his voice but you didn’t even care when you finally felt his dick pushing through your folds. He was filling you slowly and you were already gasping for air. Jungkook took his time to admire your beautiful black skin from behind, taking mental pictures of every particularity of you. You were so beautiful to him. The clenches of your pussy made him go back to reality and he began thrusting into you painfully slowly. He was teasing you and you know it but it was delicious. However you really needed him to fuck you hard.

“Faster jungkook, please,” you begged. Jungkook thrusted into you faster but also harder. His hands firmly gripping your waist to fuck you and to guide you on him. His moans we’re driving you crazy. Hearing your name and praises leaving his mouth was too much for you and you were practically drooling, your eyes rolling back. Your head was totally empty, only thinking about jungkook in you. But you weren’t the only one drowned in pleasure. Jungkook’s knuckles were white, his bottom lip was destroyed by the way he bit on it in pleasure and he was now a moaning mess.

“You’re incredible y/n, you take me so fucking well,” jungkook was in absolute awe at the sight of his dick coming in and out of your glistening pussy. The noises of skin clapping and your wetness could be heard.

You were beginning to feel the tension building in your lower abdomen. At the same moment Jungkook's hand found your neck, maintaining your head on the bed while his thrusts were now deeper.

“Fuck Jungkook! I’m coming,” your breath was irregular and you could feel your second orgasm of the night. Your hands were gripping the sheets as your moans could probably be heard in all the building. Jungkook’s eyes were shut, feeling his own wave of pleasure coming.

“Please y/n let me come on your ass,” he said between moans and you let out an euphoric ”yes”. Jungkook quickly pulled out before taking off the condom and jerking off looking at your body and your completely fucked up state. He quickly found himself coming, watching his cum flow on your lower back and your ass while your name was the only thing leaving his mouth. After that he collapsed next to you before quickly

“I’m gonna clean you up, I’m coming back” He came back with a wet cloth and gently wiped his cum off of you before finally laying beside you, face to face. His hand found your cheek caressing it while he looked lovingly at your eyes and lips, kissing you tenderly. He was feeling so high, you in his arms was the only thing he needed and he finally had it.

“Let’s make it serious, you and me,” he softly said and you smiled, nodding. He kissed tenderly your face, watching you fall asleep before his own eyes shut.

*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅**⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

Notes: I hope you liked this story!!

I’m taking requests hehe! Check my blog for more fic.

I created this blog to allow black girls to feel more comfortable with reading x reader, as a black person I saw how much we weren’t really represented in the fanfic community

* ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° * ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

This is my work, please don’t repost it, translate it or take it without my permission.

Published the 28/11/2021

[robinrunsfiction]

Hello! I’ve been a fan of your writing for quite a long time now. Anyways, I have a one-shot request (if you’re still doing requests ^^)

So basically, Teacher Frank Iero x Fem reader (y/n could possibly be 18 in college so it’s not THAT illegal.)

With smut & dirty talk maybe (?) Y/n could also have a very strong daddy kink and she’s a sub. And he fucks her over his desk and stuff like that.

I hope this request isn’t too specific, but I hope to see what you come up with ^^

Thanks! x

After Hours

Pairing: College Professor!Frank Iero x College Student!Female Reader Rating: Mature (Smut) Requested By: Anon Word Count: 2,200 Author’s Note: So I know the request said "daddy kink", but I used "sir" instead of "daddy" because I guess I thought it fit the story better, you know? I hope that's ok! Also holy smokes I have not had a smut fic come together this easily like ever lol

It really wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t pay attention.

When (YN) imagined what her college classes would be like, she never would have guessed she’d be sitting in the middle of a lecture hall listening to someone like Mr. Iero. Every day as soon as he began the lesson, he would start rolling up the sleeves of his button down shirt. That would have been distracting enough, but the tattoos on both of his arms that he revealed were more than she could handle. He was so ridiculously attractive with his dark hair, and his eyes, and the way he spoke so passionately.

It made (YN) wonder what else he was passionate about. During the lectures her mind wandered, and as much as she tried to rein it in, she could only think about what she’d let him do to her with those tattooed hands. She wondered what other art covered his body, she wondered what it would look like from on her knees. By the time class was over, she felt flushed and hurried back to her dorm. If she was lucky, her roommate would be gone and she could let her mind, and hands, wander in privacy and not have to take a cold shower.

But now she was staring down a failing midterm grade. All of her other classes were fine, but she didn’t want one bad grade from one beautiful man pulling down her GPA at the start of her college career.

From the front of the hall, Mr. Iero cleared his throat. “Generally speaking, everyone did well on the midterm, but for those of you who didn’t, I’d like to remind you that I have office hours and extra credit opportunities available.”

(YN) could have sworn that he was looking directly at her when he was speaking. Surely she couldn’t be the only student who was failing, right? She glanced around, but no one else seemed to be concerned about what the professor had just said. (YN) slid down in her seat, and hoped the class would pass quickly.

“Miss (YLN),” she heard Mr. Iero call as everyone was packing up at the end of the lecture.

“Umm, yes?” She asked, slowly approaching him as her classmates walked away, oblivious to her mental turmoil.

“I was speaking to you about the office hours,” he said, putting papers away.

“Oh! Umm, ok sure. When are they?”

“They’re in the syllabus,” he replied sternly, not even looking up at her, and (YN) thought she may fall through the floor.

“Right. Sorry. I’ll look at it tonight.”

Mr. Iero finally glanced up at her. “Good girl.”

(YN) felt like her entire body was on fire. “Thank you,” she finally squeaked out before turning and quickly rushing out of the now empty lecture hall. If she’d thought to look over her shoulder, she would have seen the smirk on the professor’s face as he watched her leave.

(YN) practically ran back to her dorm, so thankful to find her roommate was out. “Oh my god, oh my god, what the hell was that?!” She screeched to herself as she paced the small room. “I gotta find the syllabus!”

She frantically pulled the binder out of her bag and flipped through half written pages of notes until she found the syllabus. Her eyes scanned over the words until she found them.

European History 103 Professor Frank Iero Office Hours: Tues/Thurs 5 PM-7 PM

“Tomorrow,” she murmured. “Oh my god, I gotta get ready!"

~

(YN) could barely sleep that night, replaying the way he had called her a good girl for hours. How did he know what she’d been thinking about every class? Was it really written that plainly across her face? What would he want from her? Would she give in to him? She shook her head, of course she would. Mr. Iero had a hold on her from the moment he walked into the room on the first day of class. She was doomed.

Luckily for (YN), Thursday was her least busy day of the week, so she wasn’t distracted during many classes, but that made the day seem to drag on forever. She spent a good amount of time wondering what she should wear. Should it be something sexy and revealing? What if she was misreading every signal he seemed to be sending and he literally just wanted to help her study? She shook her head to clear away such an utterly disappointing thought.

She stood staring at her closet for far too long, chewing on her lip before finally deciding that a skirt would be the best option, along with a plain top, just in case she was totally off base. She threw her textbook and binder into her backpack after getting ready, and hurried to Mr. Iero’s office.

She glanced at the time on her phone just as she walked into the building, it was 4:58. She felt like she had to be on time, so she hurried inside and up the stairs, almost out of breath as she arrived outside his office.

She paused at the open doorway, he was sitting at his desk in the small office. There was a window behind him that let in the fading sunlight of the day and cast him in the most beautiful glow.

"Come in Miss (YLN)," he called, glancing up at her from whatever it was he was working on. "And shut the door behind you."

She did as he asked and sat down in the chair across the desk from him, dropping her bag onto the floor beside her. His eyes were intense, as if they weren’t looking at her, but through her, reading her mind.

“(YN), you have two choices: an extra credit research assignment, due on the last day of class. The topic would be on whatever you choose, but I would have to approve it before you begin. Or,” he paused, seeming to study her face for a reaction. “There is another option.”

(YN) nodded. “Wha-what is the other option?”

He stood up, his chair scraping across the wooden floor, and began rolling up his sleeves. “I’ve watched you in class all semester. I’ve seen the way you’re paying attention to me, but not to my lesson,” he said, crossing to the front of his desk, and leaning against it, very much in her personal space. “I would say that is reflected in your grades.”

“Yes, I, umm, you’re right,” she agreed, keeping her eyes on her hands in her lap, because if she were to look up, her line of sight would have made her blush furiously.

“I believe you know what the second option is.”

“I believe I do."

“I want to be extremely clear with you,” he said sternly, grasping her chin with one of his hands and tilting her head up so was looking at him directly. “You have to want this as bad as I do. I do not want you to feel coerced or like I’m taking advantage of you. You have another option, take it and we can forget this conversation ever happened.”

“I don’t want that option,” (YN) said, finally finding her voice. “I want you.”

“Good girl,” he gave her the faintest hint of a smile and she again thought she would melt into the chair. “I want to set some ground rules,” he said, releasing her from his grasp and returning to the other side of his desk.

“Oh, right.”

“You will address me as sir, understood?”

“Yes sir,” she nodded.

“Whatever is happening, if you decide that you need things to stop, you just have to say the safe word. What would you like it to be?”

(YN) thought for a moment. “Strawberry.”

“Noted. Come here.”

(YN) immediately sprung to her feet, rushing around to his side of the desk. He circled her like a predator about to devour its prey.

"Once more, do you want this?" He whispered in her ear from where he now stood behind her.

"Yes," she breathed.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes sir."

“On your knees, show me how bad you want it," he said before returning to stand in front of her.

(YN) dropped to her knees in a second before reaching up to undo his belt and pants, aware of the way he pants were hanging that he was already hard. She pulled down his underwear, and for a moment she was stunned that this was really happening. Reaching up, she took him in hand, stroking him a few times, before wrapping her lips around him.

She heard a hum of approval as she began to take his length. Bobbing up and down, using her hand, she gave him everything in her arsenal. She could feel her mascara starting to run down her cheeks as her eyes watered from the effort, gagging occasionally on him. Soon he was tugging at her hair, pulling her off of him.

“Oh you pretty thing,” he said looking down at her. “One day I'm gonna fuck that pretty mouth of yours and make you swallow it all because I like you down there looking wrecked, but tonight I want more. Stand up.”

Just as quickly as she got down, she was up. She felt his tattooed hand on her back, bending her over his desk. "I knew you were a smart girl, you proved me right by wearing this little skirt for me tonight. It makes my job so much easier," he said, flipping the skirt up. Silently she was thankful she decided to wear what she considered to be her best panties. He ran his fingertips over her covered center, pressing gently and she let out a soft gasp. "You're fucking soaked already. I bet you have been since yesterday."

"Yes sir," she whimpered. "Almost every day after class too."

"You go back to your little dorm room and touch yourself thinking of me?"

(YN) nodded the best she could.

"Answer me," he said with a slap of his hand across her ass.

"Yes sir," she said, surprised at how clearly she was able to blurt it out.

"Do you want me to touch you?"

"Yes sir, please."

She felt his fingers hook under the waistband of her panties and he pulled them down, excruciatingly slowly. Then his finger traced down her middle, up to and circling her clit before sliding back to press into her. She let out a light gasp at the feeling.

“You like that?”

“Yes sir,” she nodded. He slipped in another finger and she felt her knees get weak. “Oh god,” she whimpered as he fucked her with his fingers. But before she could truly chase her high, he pulled his fingers away.

“Do you want me to fuck you like this? Like a little slut bent over the desk?” his voice seemed darker, deepened by unrestrained lust.

“Yes sir,” (YN) gasped. “Please, I want you so bad.”

“You want me to fill this pretty pussy?”

“Yes, yes! It's yours!” She was practically begging, desperate for him, and then she felt him pressing into her. “Oh god.”

“I said call me sir,” he smirked, before pulling back and slamming back into her.

(YN) giggled a little at the comment. “Yes sir,” she complied as he continued to fuck her. She moaned against her arms that she had been resting her head on, as he gripped her hips more tightly. She imagined the bruises that would form in those spots. Spots she could touch and remember how good he felt inside her while making those marks.

“I wanna hear you moan,” he practically growled into her ear, leaning over her body, still not stilling his hips as he grinded against her. Then one of his hands slipped from her hip, down between her legs. “I wanna feel you cum when I tell you you can.”

She gasped as he started to circle her clit with his finger. “Oh god, oh sir please, please,” she moaned.

“Please what?” He groaned.

“Please let me cum,” she begged. “Please sir, I can’t!”

“Cum for me,” he finally replied, which felt like an eternity later. (YN) couldn’t wait a moment longer before she came apart around him, letting out a gasping moan that filled the small office. “You sound so pretty when you cum. So fuckin pretty,” he grunted as he finally came as well.

They both caught their breath as they came down from their highs. He finally stepped back and took her arm, helping her to right herself.

“Alright?” He asked, pulling his boxers and pants back up.

“Yes sir, thank you,” she replied, retrieving her panties and fixing her skirt.

"I believe a fair arrangement would be you attending my Thursday office hours every week through the end of the semester," he said, tucking in his shirt.

"But what if someone else comes in?"

"That just makes it that much more exciting, don't you think?" He smirked, cupping her cheek.

She paused for a moment, thinking it over before nodding in agreement, a smile forming on her face.

"Good girl,” he smirked, before leaning in and pressing a kiss to her lips.

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Headlights Girl

Genre: Urban fantasy + wlw romance

Words: approx. 8k

Summary: The story of a girl with headlamps for eyes and the moth-girl she meets along the way.

My book 🌸 Ko-fi  🌸 Patreon

--------------------

Most humans carry the night with them. Even during daylight hours, they can shut out the sun, turn off the light, recede into themselves and into that soft secret place behind their eyes.

Did you know certain animals don’t have eyelids? Gecko’s have nothing between them and the violent sun which wishes to cook the colors of their world. They have to use their tongue. Dust and sand and rain, can you imagine? I was obsessed with lizards as a kid.

I stacked up books on snakes and lizards and skinks. I traced the way that sand snakes crested across the dunes, sideways and wrong. I put glue on the pads of my hand and tried to climb the walls of my room— I didn’t even get one handhold up. I went to the zoo and peered into their cages, up on my tiptoes, trying not to smudge the glass or breath too hard. I tried make out their triangle heads and slow tongue-flicks, but they each shrank away deep into nooks and crannies of their cages. Most things do when I look at them.

Most humans carry the night with them, right there behind their eyelids is an entire world of darkness. I have something else inside me, not quite, not soft, not secret. They called me “headlights girl” in the newspapers.

There were even stranger kids born in the Age of Spirits. I checked. Every morning of fifth grade, I scanned the papers for mentions of “oddities” growing into anomalies.

A boy who could breath fire. A girl with leaves sprouting from her head. A kid with antennae that could taste the wind. There are stranger things than me in the age of beasts and magic. My father called it the “Epoch of Bastards,” sons and daughters of flickering fire elementals and wind ghosts who seduced half-asleep ladies from their beds.

He didn’t look at me much growing up. And I knew what he meant. I knew what he was getting at by calling it the Epoch of Bastards. Growing up, I played in my little puddle of carpet on the floor as he blustered in and out of rooms like gale force winds. He’d be looking for his keys or a left shoe or wallet since he was going out, out, out. I think I missed him at first, in the way you miss strangers you’ve never met.

Later, still on my puddle of carpet, still on my island, I would glare at him with that sour, acid taste in the back of my throat. Acrid, smoky, I would barely blink as he passed; he’d jump when he turned too quickly and accidentally fell into my path. Later still, I would begin to wish they were both like that—blustery and calling people names, gone more often than not.

It sometimes felt better than hearing my mom weep to herself on the couch. I wish she’d do it in her room or outside or anywhere else than that theatrical sobbing in the middle of the house, a naked heartbeat to the place. She spoke to her friends on the phone in that same watery voice, handkerchief in hand and sniffling, she spoke to them more than me.

What else am I supposed to do? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. She’d wail, just a bit, and then find a new thing to wail over. They could barely afford to send me to That School. They could barely afford the special doctor’s appointments for my eyes. They barely knew what to do with me.

Sometimes, I wanted to shout right back: It’s not like I didn’t want to be here either!

But she wasn’t talking to me. 

School wasn’t much better. We weren’t the same, not really. None of us were the same age or had the same affliction. Plus, most everyone else stayed in dorms where they bonded with secrets and whispers and hiding from matrons. It wasn’t the same.

They called me The Lighthouse and Car Face and Nightlight. Sometimes they’d give me a few bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face. I did it. They’d laugh and reassure me I was as ugly as you’d think. Or beautiful. Or perfectly average-looking or I had a pig-nose or unibrow. I’d never seen anything but the blinding light of my own eyes in the mirror so I could never contradict them.

A boy with antlers handed me a twenty for a kiss in the 6th grade. I closed my eyes for that too. It was chapped and dry and he ran away with a screaming laugh afterward. There are stranger kids than me, I reminded myself. So why do I feel so much stranger than the rest of them?

I was 16 when I heel-toed my way down the stairs toward the front door. A duffel bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with loose clothes, change, a bath towel, three books with broken spines, all the tampons in the house, and a Swiss-army knife.

I hoped to stuff as many cheddar-cheese sandwiches in my sack as possible before the midnight bus came, but he was at the kitchen table. I don’t think either of us expected it, like running into your teacher at the mart and you’re both buying the same brand of toilet cleaner. There was a beer in front of his idle hands and he still wore his rumpled work shirt. He glanced at the bag on my shoulder for a long minute.

Finally, he sighed like I cut him off in traffic.

“Gimme a moment.”

My father leafed through a wad of cash he kept in a safe. He handed me almost three hundred bucks and we nodded at each other. At the time, I thought there was a kind of satisfaction to that nod, an endnote.

I was out the door before the midnight bus arrived.

Only three people were at the terminal. None of them looked at me with my pack and my knife stuffed in one hand and my eyes glowing. They did look at the glow, but not for long.

Remote and empty like maybe the world had ended and the last bits of if were nothing but strangers not making eye contact.

Finally, I watched the headlights of the midnight bus approach through dense summer night. I was struck by the thought that it was like looking at like, the glow of my eyes against its eyes. Can a bus be your father? Can your father be a man after all this time? Will your mother come looking for you?

I got on the bus and kicked my feet up against the seat in front of me. Scrunched into a ball, crossed my arms over my chest, and watched the trees turn into flickering bodies of shadow with each passing mile. ------------- My feet moved like tides. They tossed me against nameless city streets and toward empty forested slices of land. I stumbled into the painted deserts toward the west. I dipped my toes into the neon districts of the east with lights brighter than my own. I slept on benches and in kid’s treehouses and hunched my shoulders against brick walls of back alleys.

No one touched me. Maybe they’d approach now and then, but I’d open my eyes and they’d see nothing but heaven or devils or an absent lightning-God father that would smite them. I was the daughter of spirits after all.

I found my way to the ocean; beaches where other stragglers gathered and it was easy to stretch out on empty pieces of warm sand. I didn’t talk much by then, I didn’t like to; people stared whether I was speaking or screaming and clamping down on my jaw so hard it ached. Sometimes I get yelled at: Turn that off! No phone lights in here. You’re blinding me, bitch!

I’d never seen a movie in any theatres, but I could imagine what it’s like.

It was crowded, but I liked that ocean city, despite myself. It had pale buildings built into cliffs, narrow winding sidewalks where cars couldn’t fit, reckless bikers, and crushed seashell parking lots. I liked the tang of salt in the air and the way my hair crinkled from the ocean water as it sun-dried. I camp out on beaches and bummed cigarettes and hotdogs off strangers. I was good at taking care of myself once I got into a rhythm.

I had a tent by then and even an enormous sun umbrella to keep any prying eyes away. I still liked to sleep under the stars most nights though.

I often dreamed of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I dreamed of descending on pointed ballerina-feet to the silted black bottom. I’d be weighted down through the cold and the silence to where no human being had ever been. I’d open my eyes there, open them all the way, lightning-bright, and unflinching. In my dreams, the salt didn’t even sting. I lit up the world, the whole untouched world of whales and fish and terror and maybe I’d do something good then. Maybe I’d do something good and bring the sun to places that had forgotten it. 

I hated those dreams.

I met Mags on the beach after one of those dreams. Mags had one eye and twelve teeth and carried around nothing but string and scissors everywhere. She smelled like seawater and burning kelp, dank and crusted over. Her clothes were neat despite her leather-cracked skin and arms and neck covered in tattoos of shipwrecks. We ran into each other at some bum gathering and she cackled and pulled me aside.

“What’s your name?” Her voice was old creaking wood. I didn’t answer. “I could give you one.” She offered with a grin that was more empty space than anything.

“Nana.” I gritted out. “You want something?”

“Not sure. What do you want, kid?”

I glared openly, my beam of light slanting. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come here.”

I didn’t know why I was chosen.

Mags liked me more than I deserved. I pocketed her last pair of socks when she wasn’t looking. She never mentioned it and dragged me down to the community showers to get clean with soap and shampoo. She took me to the soup and salad restaurant for something that wasn’t burnt or freeze-dried or from a convenience store. She cackled, she spat when she talked, people shot her looks as well.

I thought she was normal, not touched by the spirits, but she liked me more than most people and I didn’t know why.

“You like art, kid?”

I snorted. “No.”

“Why not? You broken?” Yeah. Probably.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snapped back.

“Lippy squirt. Come on, I’ll show you something worth your forked tongue.”

She heated the needle before she used it, red hot and untouchable. She dipped it into deep black inks, only black and sometimes red, she called them the only colors that matter. She shows me how to prick the skin and clean it. She showed me how to slowly, painstakingly etch images. I wasn’t sure I liked it, there was something so permanent and intentional about the act.

I watched her lessons though: stick and poke to her right foot, all over those fine little bones that must hurt, in and out, a little bloody.

It took her six hours to make a tiny shipwreck right above her big toe. It was a narrow schooner going under and I was the only witness. She made the waves come to life and crash against its sides and sometimes I forgot to blink. She didn’t seem to mind.

She washed another needle. She heated it red-hot. She dipped it in ink and handed it to me.

I still wasn’t sure I liked the permanence of it, but I told myself I was bored and it was something to do. I decided quickly I did like the bite of it, I liked the focus it took, and the ability to pull something from nothing.

I practiced all over my thighs first, there was enough meat there and it was easy enough to reach: a lizard design that looked like nothing but squiggles, a TV set playing static, a tiny smudged skink with its tongue out. I practiced designs in the sand and then on paper when Mags splurged on pen and paper.

Mags took me to the museum on Sundays. They were always free on Sundays.

Something stirred in my chest, even as the guards yelled at us about how flash photography wasn’t allowed in the museum. Even as I was shooed out of exhibits for ruining the paint. Still, an ache so old it rotted roared to life in my chest.

I stabbed in and out, gentle, a collection of stars right above my right knee. A winding sand snake on my wrist, and then finally, something good, something that gave people pause and reason to stare. I made it in the mirror: a ghost on my collarbone. Shadowed and intricate and yet simple, I put a ghost right above my collarbone and it bleeds more than any of the others.

That was a good year or so; one of the best I could remember.

I didn’t want to leave the ocean city though and Mags said she had to keep moving. She had places to be. She gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“You're a gem, kid. You’ll knock ‘em all to the pavement.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You’ll be back?”

She cackled. “Wouldn’t miss it. You know me.” She winked as she turns to the bus, my second father. “You think I’ll miss your great becoming, kid? I’ll be back.”

I wanted to make her pinky-promise like I was a kid again begging one of the others to tell me if I’m beautiful when I close my eyes. I couldn’t do that; I waved as she tottered up the steps of the bus and was taken away with the tides of her own feet.

A had a moment of thinking it was the end then; I was ready to get back to my real normal. I was ready to disappear again. But even shipwrecks with no witnesses leave things left to be found.

------------ I got an apprenticeship. Technically, Mags talked them into it and I just followed up when I had nothing better to do.

I didn’t think I’d like it much, but couch surfing and camping out was the pastime of the especially young. And I’d lost my giant umbrella.

It was a small shop that smelled like bleach and dried flowers. A tattoo parlor in one of the steep arts districts neighbored by food trucks and beaded necklace shops.

Penguin Davies and Bitch-Annie ran it together. Davies walked like he’d never encountered land before, and Bitch-Annie had a throw-pillow embroidered with “If you don’t have anything nice to say then come sit next to me.”

Davies was covered in nothing but birds and dizzying M. C. Escher house-designs up and down his chest and arms. Bitch-Annie had topless mermaids and pinup girls across her shoulders and legs. She’d been asked to leave a number of stores before the children started staring or thinking thoughts.

Neither of them had ever met someone like me. It was not that type of town. I rankled at most their questions, a cat meeting a steel brush. Where are you from? What’s your family name? What kind of school did you go to? Is your sight better than other people you think?

I brushed off anything more personal than my favorite type of soda. Bitch-Annie called me “Shadow” probably as a joke, probably. Davies said I must be possessed by the ghost of some dead star: a blackhole that takes everything in and lets nothing out.

Neither of them let me touch a needle in those first six months. They had me practice on pig skin and trace designs and stand by their shoulders as they worked. I felt like a dental assistant except I was the hanging light shining into open mouths instead of anything with a pulse. I stood at their shoulder as they drew thick lines and thin dots and made hearts and wolves and names of dead lovers come to life.

They asked me to stand still and stop wiggling the light. I almost walked out several to find a new cliff to crash against, almost. 

No one had ever expected anything of me before. They never expected me to show up somewhere or do something well. No one really cared if I went to school or if I did my homework, if I dressed well or went to bed on time. And no one kept any tabs on me at all after I took that first bus. That’s how I liked it.

I should’ve left, tattooing didn’t mean anything to me, not really. But Bitch-Annie stomped up to my attic-apartment one morning and threw pants at me.

“Get up, Shadow,” she barked. She was sterner than Mags, no hint of humor in her eyes. “I told you 9am so I expect 9am.”

“The fuck!?” I was eloquent in the mornings.

“Pants, shirt, shoes, and bra if you don’t want that desk idiot staring at something other than your eyes all day.”

“Are you serious?”

“Serious as a root canal. Mags swore up and down about what you. Let’s see some of that, up, up!”

I grumbled. I put on everything but the bra. No one ever expected me to be anywhere before and 9am shouldn’t have even been a concept much less a real thing. I told myself I hated it. I’d leave the next week. Or maybe the week after that or in just one more month. I kept a bus ticket under my pillow but every time the date arrived I shrugged and made myself busy.

There’d be no harm in having a savings too and seeing what all the fuss was about with having a dishwasher and a kitchen.

I wasn’t an artist of course. I didn’t understand what everyone else was seeing when they looked at the “old masters” paintings of water or war or lovers pulled apart. I didn’t feel anything in front of stain-glass windows in churches or mosaics on walls. Maybe there really was something wrong with me, my eyes. I didn’t let up though. I put on pants for it after all.

Penguin Davies hovered by my shoulder when I made my first real design.

“Mm.” He rumbled deep in his chest. He’d gone grey at an early age, had tired eyes and quick hands. The desk kid said he’d been in medical school once, a surgeon. It was hard to tell. Davies muttered a lot, stared off into space too much, and laughed like it was always a painful surprise

“Perfectionist,” he muttered at me as I start over on a crappy unicorn design. “That line was barely off. You’re being a perfectionist, Nana.”

I scowled over my shoulder and let the full weight of my light hit him across the face. “Got a problem with it?” I challenged. He chuckled darkly. His grin was crooked like a broken door handle. I tried to hide my work from him with my shoulder. “It’s not done yet.”

“It’s late.” The rest of the street was dark. I knew that.

“I said I’m not done yet! You can go home.”

“Hmm.” He scratched his grey beard.

“What?”

“Look at you. You know who makes the best artists, Nana?” He was always a bit of a philosopher. Maybe he used to study that before medicine.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m working on it.”

He gave my shoulder a light push. “The ones that don’t quit.”

They let me touch a needle gun after that. I told myself I’d only sign my new apartment lease as an experiment. I didn’t have to actually stay. I’d just run from the ink on paper and hope no one chased after girls with eyes that glow.

I didn’t break my lease. I drew suns and moons, trees and fireflies, hunks in speedos on tipsy college girls who swore they were sober and erotic vampires on the chests of men getting their first divorce. I had to give two refunds for a duck that turned out lopsided and a tattoo of someone’s dog which I swore really was that ugly to begin with.

There was one at the end of that next year though, another college girl with perfectly white piano-key teeth. She asked for a stick and poke, that was what I was best at anyway, she asked for a butterfly. Butterflies were easy, I could do the little ones in my sleep. She wanted one all across her back, she said I could make it look however I wanted. So I did. Wings like fringed shawls and straight heavy lines combined with wispy swirling ones. It was dark, black ink with red highlights and gray shadows under each wing to give it movement and flight.

I hid my smile when I finished and showed her the results in the mirror. She went to my bosses and jumped up and down. She pointed and babbled, ohmyspirits, the best thing I’ve ever seen! Fuck. I should pay you double! Where did you get this girl? 

I held myself perfectly still and studied the ceiling until my eyes dried out.

I took the long way home that night. I stopped once, at the corner where the midnight bus arrived, and watched the the passengers trudge off. I didn’t expect to see Mags again so soon, not really, but sometimes I wanted to show her: Hey, maybe your work wasn’t all wasted. Maybe I did start to become.

---------------- “I’m getting you chocolate.” Annie spat, her thick arms flexing as she cleaned off the spotless counter. “I’m getting you fucking chocolate, Shadow, ‘less you tell me what flavor you actually like.”

I hung at the back of the shop next to the narrow window that faced the road. I let the sun warm my face in thick strips and watched the bicycles pass. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Tell us what your actual birthday is then, you sugar-toasted tart.”

I shrugged. “Not today.”

“Well happy fucking birthday. You’re turning two. You came to work for us two years ago today, washed up from the beach like a deranged feral cat, so this is your birthday now.”

I rolled my eyes which served to look like a flashlight given a shake. Annie spent another minute splashing disinfectant on anything that might have had even a passing conversation with a germ.

“You talk to Birdie?” She asked, but mischievously this time. I responded by setting my mouth in a hard line. “You’re turning twenty-something and you’re not even talking to Birdie, are ya?”

“I’m not telling you what I’m turning. It’s still not my birthday.” I dodged inelegantly.

“Birdie will give you a proper go-around. Even shadows like you must need a little rub now and then.”

“Go dunk your head, Annie.” I huffed.

“Afraid you’ll blind her in bed?”

I turned with a snarl. “I’ll start with you.”

“I’ve seen you flipping through those poetry books, every word about hands or mouths or rosebuds.” She gave me flat a once-over. “You’ve got a sweet tooth in you.”

I dragged myself over to the desk to snarl at her some more, but Annie was already putting her hand up and going toward the backroom.

“I’m getting you a chocolate cake either way.”

There must have been a proper way to get her to never look at my little leather poetry books again, the ones with watermarked pages, the spines broken-in, and words that oozed. No one had to know that I could read, much less that I read that.

The door dinged instead.

“Excuse me.” She walked in. Her. “Is someone, um, named Nana here?” I turned before I could stop myself. That was still my name. And it was still my work.

Twenty-something, curtains of straight black hair falling in her face, pinched nose, thin energetic lips, shorts that gave way to milk-dipped legs that never seemed to end. A slight girl in a university t-shirt. College kids came in often during their breaks, but this one was a bit different. My eyes dragged up and fish-hooked there.

Feathered tendrils sprouted from her head and reached toward the ceiling. Long and searching, a pearly green color that reminded you of leaves or plumage.

I knew within a moment where I’d heard of this: Antennae Girl. The newspapers ran our stories close together along with the boy that breathed fire and the girl with roots growing from her head. We were all born in the same year during the epoch of monsters and bastards.

I think she recognized me too.

We stopped like heartbeats seizing up before the ambulance could make it. A confused, unnatural silence. I glanced at the door and considered making a run for it.

She cleared her throat first.

“Someone said that Misty’s butterfly tattoo came from here?” She blinked once and I noticed how her feathered antennae seemed to twitch. I averted my eyes so I wouldn’t blind her. She took a step forward. “So are you . . . Nana?”

The door was right there.

“What do you want?” I had been spending too much time with Bitch-Annie.

“A tattoo?”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then why are you here?” I grunted. Footsteps came in from the back room. I was examining the smudged off-white tiles of the floor one by one.

“I wanted to . . . hey, you can look up if you want.” She said, curiously, softly. I didn’t look up. “I’m still figuring out the design.” She trudged on ahead.

“Fine.” I pivoted away. “But we’re busy. Come back later.”

A hand slapped across my shoulder. “This is Nana.” Annie stopped me from leaving. “Don’t let her eyes fool ya, it’s her personality that’s actually the problem. You saw her butterfly you said?”

“Yes!” She gushed. “It was gorgeous.”

“It was fine,” I corrected.

“It’s her birthday today.” Annie shared because she could and because she was a failed evil villain still trying to get her kicks in.

“Oh cool, happy Birthday.” A deep pause followed that could fill oceans. “You can look up. I don’t mind.” She repeated.

I opened my eyes wide and lifted my chin in one jerky motion. A beam of fluorescent headlights hit her across the face. “Is this what you want?” Venom dripped from my lips. This was why I tried not to talk too much.

The young woman squinted for a moment before covering her eyes and nodding. “I read about you,” she stated as if it was nothing. “I’m turning twenty-two this year . . . so I guess, you are too?”

“What?!” Delight filled Annie’s entire expression. “Hot damn! Twenty-two?” I groaned deeply. “Hey, you, girlie,” she addressed antennae-girl, “you want to come out for drinks tonight?”

I tried to protest as quickly as possible, but somehow didn’t summon the words quickly enough.

“Sure.” She agreed. ----------------------

The night was humid and clung to us like a second skin. I wandered through the hilly streets with Penguin Davies wobbling beside me. The desk kid—Daft Jeff, said Davies had some inner-ear problem that made it hard for him to keep his balance. Annie said he just didn’t belong on land— he couldn’t walk straight unless something was tilting and rolling under his feet.

Davies made his way up the hill, faltering and missing the musical beats of it. He refused to let me steady him and I refused to have him sing to me. It was apparently my birthday.

“Someone saw your design.” He noted on the downhill.

“Yeah. Some college girl.” I grumbled.

“What’d you think?” He asked in his usual mysterious way.

“She just wants a good look.” I returned in a neutral tone. “She read about me in the paper. All she wants to do is look.”

“She saw your design.” He paused. “And Jeff said she was like you.”

I blinked hard so the path ahead was eaten by shadow and Davies stumbled. “Not all of us have to be friends . . .” I said sourly and didn’t fill in the rest. “I’ve met kids with antlers and frog-hands before. I doesn’t mean anything.”

“Any of them come visit?”

“They’re smart enough not to.” I snark. “But the ones who manage to be pretty don’t have the brains to stay away.”

“Mm.” He made a soft sound. “What kind of tattoo do you think she’ll get?”

“How should I know? A heart or anchor or something dumb like that.” I walked on ahead. “Maybe I’ll give her a quote from some dead poet.”

“You like poetry.”

I huff dramatically, “Not what I mean. Girls like her don’t like my type of poetry, you know I’m saying.”

“What kind of girls?” Davies was patient. I hated that about him.

I stopped at the corner to let him catch up. “Don’t play dumb. Hot ones, college ones, getting a degree in money or music. They don’t watch over their shoulders enough or know when to stay away.” I scuffed my shoe on the ground. “Whatever.”

Davies was still thinking. I considered pushing him over. He finally spoke up again as we approach the bar, “That sea witch ever show up again?”

“Mags?” I snorted. “No. Why?”

“Cause I’m sure she’d like to see this.”

I didn’t say anything else as we reached the doorway. -------------------- The bar was loud. More people than I liked came to my “party.” I should have seen it coming. If the cliff city liked one thing it was an excuse to drink.

I crammed myself up against the bar and ordered a gin and tonic before the rest of the night crowd could arrive. Birdy was holding court at a corner table and waving at me. “There she is! Someone put a blanket over Nana, lights out, party up!”

Her puns usually left something to be desired. She sang “Blinded by the Light” every time she saw me for half a year.

I drank half my gin and tonic in the first gulp as a new stream of townies burst in. They arrived to buy me birthday beers and shout their opinions on the shitty new chain restaurant on 3rd street. I was almost tasting the bottom of my second glass when someone tapped on my shoulder.

I barely looked over.

The girl with sheets of black hair and a practiced-appearance stood before me—like she was at dress rehearsal and expected everyone else to know the lines as well. She carried a baby-blue bike helmet in one hand, and I noted there were two hand-drilled holes in the top.

“You.” I was tempted to shake her hand like I might make this a transactional hello and goodbye in short order.

“Hey.” She smiled, hesitant, like maybe the food on the fork might be too hot. “Nana, right?”

“Yep.” I sighed the word real long and heavy. “Listen, I really can’t give you a tattoo if you don’t know what you want.”

“No, no, I get it. But I want you to know . . . I didn’t know it was you.”

“Uh, okay. Though I’m pretty hard to miss over here.” I was looking at the dirty wine bottles stacked near the ceiling. Her antennae hang over both of us like fern fronds.

“No. I mean, when I saw the butterfly. That’s when I wanted to come here. Not after.”

“After what?” I was gonna make her say it.

“After I found that it was, well, you know, Headlights Girl.”

“Mm.” I was spending too much time with Davies. “You want something to drink?”

She sighed as well, real long and heavy. “Sure.” She took the seat next to me. “I’m Park by the way.”

“Park.” I rolled the name around in my mouth. “And you already know me.”

“I don’t think I do.” She laughed, sharp and bristly like something you can get cut on. “And I’ll have a beer. . . but only once you look up. Come on, I’m not like that.” I looked up. Her face was bright, round like the moon, her grin was sneaky and unearned. “There we go.”

She waved over the bartender Kipp and ordered her dark beer.

“It’s not really my birthday.” I informed her, dumbly. Every word felt dumb and clumsy all at once.

“Why not?” She was teasing. I knew that.

“That’s not how birthdays work.” I informed and wished I could backtrack into hostility again.

“Oh darn,” she winked. “And here I was about to make it my birthday too.”

“Uh, well,” I really should have left when I had the chance. “It’s not too late?”

“That’s the spirit!” She laughed, fuller this time and rounded. I looked her straight in the face and then quickly looked away again. Her grin was aimed at me, somehow, and seemed to reach high cupboards inside me you usually needed a stool for.

“Park,” I repeated the name and shifted in place. “So did you go to Haveryards or Simmons?” There were only two schools in the country for spirit bastards like us. Haveryards was close enough for me to get bussed to—an hour one way and then an hour home.

“Neither. I went to public and then Bakerville Uni.” She rapped on the counter. “Hey, you want another gin and tonic? Or I’ll mix you up something.” Her eyes flickered over everything. “I bartended my way through college so I can make a mean margarita.”

“Oh, Bakerville U., yeah. That ones close.” I stuttered a bit. She was leaning across the counter and trying to get Kipp’s attention a second time. My words were feeling dumber and dumber by the moment, perhaps losing all shape and meaning altogether. “That’s where you went?”

“How’d you guess?” She said playfully and pointed to her t-shirt. She finally got the bartender over. “Right, you want something hard? Vodka maybe? A mule?”

I scratched my chin. “ . . . I don’t care. I’m easy.”

She rolled her eyes and I knew she must feel me staring. “I can’t imagine shopping for you for today then.” She snickered and climbed over the counter. “Happy birthday, how about one chocolate mule for a free tattoo?”

“You wish.” I made a face. “You don’t even know what you want.”

“And you do?” She was still grinning, somehow. “I’ve decided I’m making you the equivalent of all the soda flavors mixed together at once. Close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes and I tried to turn off my thoughts. It was bright as knives inside my skull; I carry the daytime with me. Panic threatened to rise up (for no reason of course), but a soft hand brushed against mine, soft like sheets in fancy hotels and flower petals. I peaked and Park slid a full murky glass toward me.

“Drink up.”

It was sweet. It wasn’t even my birthday. I didn’t care. She called it a chocolate-mule-Park Special and maybe chocolate really was my favorite flavor. -------------- Park started coming around. She rode a sky-blue bike with a white basket and rusting hinges. I couldn’t imagine doing all the hills in the city without any gears, but she managed. She said she was figuring things out after graduating. She said she liked it here.

I grumbled when she came by. I complained like Annie when Wicker the cat visited: Get that thing away from me. I hate that. Smells awful. I’ve got allergies. Put that away, it’ll kill me.

I never said anything when Annie left fish heads out and bowls of milk of course.

Park smelled like sunscreen and breath mints. She had strong opinions on everything from street paving techniques to which sun hats went with which dresses. She invited me on walks. She invited me to help her change a flat tire. She invited me to the corner shop to help her pick out bottle can openers.

I said no. Sometimes I said no. I started to say yes.

“Look at this,” she liked to show me things. She liked to show me pictures of squirrels on her phone and weird pieces of glass she found. She liked to point out new restaurants (that I’d already been to) and play videos of funny traffic jams.

This time she held up a seashell. It was rounded and flat with a swirl in the center.

“I’m looking.” I said carefully.

“Watch how it catches light.” I shun my eyes on it and she moved it back and forth. There were bits of silver veins caught in the cracks of it.

“There’s tons of those.” At this point, I had valiantly refused to be impressed by even her cutest squirrel pictures.

“Ugh.” She pouted. “Are you kidding? I spent all morning looking for this.”

“They're right by the surf. I could find you five bigger ones than this before sunset.”

“Alright, hot-shot.” She jut her chin out and jabbed my shoulder. “Prove it.”

I said yes to that one. I left right after my shift ended with the sun setting in the waters like a stabbed orange bleeding out. I met Park by the parking lot with drooping palms trees lining the sides and lost flipflops everywhere.

“This is where you went wrong.” I announced. I couldn’t help it. “This is the tourist beach. You have to go somewhere real.”

“Alright, alright. You’ve already established you’re the hot-shot here. Lead the way.”

She followed me. I ignored how she lingered by my side. I ignored how her hand wrapped around my arm as she stopped us to look at a tiny horseshoe crab. Her hand was soft, like velvet, soft enough to smother something in my chest.

I found two seashells with streaks of silver and rainbow through them, both bigger than my palm. The sun was a flat line on the horizon before I could find a third and Park hooted.

“You said before sunset! It’s sunset, baby, pay up.” She called. “And you were so sure you were a better seashell hunter than me.” She tsked.

I scanned the ground more quickly. “It’s barely nighttime.” I pointed to the sky. “And I can keep looking. I have the built-in equipment for it.”

“Oh I know.” She planted herself on the soggy crusted sand and sat down in a heap. “But can you find why kids love the taste of not doing that? Take it easy. Take a seat.”

“So pushy.”

“You know me.” It was fond. It had only been a few months, but there was something fond there.

I ran a hand through my short choppy curls. “Fine.” I sat next to her, not too close. “It’s your loss.” We both looked out at the gently lapping waves, foaming and anemic. She let a long breath of air and for a moment I considered brushing her hair back. It was always in her face.

It was a quiet moment, bottled, and pitching toward something. Like the the moment where you miss a step on the stairs and the certainty of the fall was right there.

I was the one that scooted a little closer.

“I’m considering getting a storm cloud,” she commented off-handedly. “Can you do storm clouds?”

I made a sound of consideration. “Sure.” I glanced toward the opposite corner of the night sky. “I think I’ve seen one of those before. Big puffy wet things?”

“Kinda fluffy? You’re getting there.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I’m smiling, which is alright since there’s no way she could see it. She’s silent for another moment longer.

“Or would you make fun of me if I got something like a butterfly? Like your other one.”

“A storm cloud butterfly?”

“No. The cloud would it’s own thing.” She chewed on her bottom lip, ragged and chapped. “I mean, I’ve been doodling some ideas. And tattoos should be personal, right? So I thought a storm cloud might be fitting. Kids used to pay me a couple dollars to predict the weather. It could be a memorial to childhood entrepreneurial spirit.”

I watched her speak and something beat inside my chest like a second animal. I wanted to be closer. I wanted to feel velvet again.

“Why?” I rasped after a moment.

“Uh, why did they pay me? It’s just something I can do. Whenever it's going to rain or storm or be sunny out. I dunno, I don’t know why the rest of you can’t sense it.”

“And you didn’t become a meteorologist?” I smiled a bit bitterly.

She made an indignant noise. “And you didn’t become a professional lighthouse?”

I choked on a laugh. “Not yet.” A quiet consumed us from both sides, I made sure my light didn’t crash into her. I made sure to look at anything but her. She’d have to squint if I did and cover her eyes and I’d be there, ready to run her over.

“Kids in my class paid me too.” I barely realized I started speaking. “They slipped me a couple bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face.”

“You got money for that?”

“There wasn’t always much to do. Teachers were quitting all the time and sometimes it was just the TV. I dunno, they paid me. Then they’d giggle and run away afterward.” My voice sounded automated like the announcer at an airport, informing travelers their flight was canceled. “They always said I had a pig nose or a unibrow or looked like the lead singer of that Minx girl band-- super hot, but you know, it didn’t matter.” The laugh that escaped was high, girlish in a grotesque way. “Since, you know, no one would ever see it.”

“Kids are fucked up.” Park contributed simply.

“Adults are too.” I sniffed. “Everyone wants a light show.”

“Oh.” She said slowly. “Is it . . . is it bad I wanted to meet you then? I mean, I wanted to see the art first, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a factor.”

“No.” I said quickly. I lit up my own lap and empty hands. “Does it matter?”

“I never went to those schools,” she said hesitantly. “My parents fought them, said the schools were unfit. They shouldn’t be able to force us there. And that I wasn’t even dangerous since,” she gestured helplessly upward, “I just have these. So then, well, I never really met anyone else like me.”

“I mean, everyone’s different. It’s not . . . a big deal.”

“You’d think so,” she commented sardonically.

I folded up into myself like a complex origami piece. “Yeah, well, sometimes I wish I was dangerous. Actually dangerous.”

She giggled. “Didn’t you just say everyone’s different? I’d say everyone’s dangerous too. Just gotta find the niche.”

“Oh yeah,” I dared to turn toward her. “What’s yours then?”

“My danger niche? Hmm.” She was leaning now, pitching forward like a wave come to drown me. “I do have a few tricks up my sleeve I’ll admit.”

“You have a pair of wings hidden away?” I stopped breathing as her hand lifted up, strange and all at once. I wasn’t ready.

“Here.” Her skin was against mine. She cupped my cheek with one velvet-hand. It was heated cashmere, tiny feather-light hairs on her palm. “Feelers.” She whispered with a hesitancy there.

“Ah,” I was indulgent. I closed my eyes. I leaned in. “And you want to put a needle over these?” I put my hand over hers, loosely, so she could pull away if she wanted to. Tiny hairs pulsed there with some kind of life all their own. 

“I wanted . . .” She paused and I peaked open my eyes. I could see every detail of her face, illuminated. “I dunno.” She finished. “I guess I just wanted whatever I saw there, before.”

“In the butterfly?”

“In the butterfly.” I turned toward the ocean, but my hand remained over hers. “I’m not sure how good it will be a second time. It’s not like I’m really an artist. . .”

“What did you want to be?” Soft.

“Who knows. I mean, I’m glad my parents didn’t try to fight the schools. Being there during the day was better than being home, listening to my mom crying all the time and my father exploding . . . They wouldn’t have wanted me home.”

Before the sunset, when I was walking over, I thought maybe we’d kiss that night. I thought I’d feel that first electric pulse and maybe we’d climb into the ocean and swim in circles, laugh until the moon rose. I thought maybe I’d get something out of my system and there wouldn’t be anything left to say or do.

I’d kiss Park, once, and she’d be satisfied. She’d understand. She’d go on her college path and I’d go on on mine.

But the words spilled out, unbidden. Park stayed in place, steady and unflinching. That made it worse, so much worse.

“My parents weren’t like yours.” There was an accusatory edge to it. Don’t you know? I wanted to shout. Don’t you know? Even without the eyes or the school bills or the bus.

“Hey,” she cradled my cheeks with both hands now and smeared the tears away from one eye. “Hey, listen, I know. Alright? I know.”

I scowled back at her feathered little feelers.

“It’s not about the damn antenna or head beams or anything else.” I tried to pull away. “Even the kid with the antler’s kissed me and I didn’t stop him. I ran away from home and my mom never came looking. It didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter! You wouldn’t even get it. You wouldn’t get it!” I squeeze my eyes closed. “You were wanted.”

Slowly, like an awkward animal burrowing into soft earth, she pressed her forehead to the crook of my neck. I could feel us both breathing in, strong and steady. She was lean and silky, and I swore I can feel her heartbeat hammering through my throat.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. I inhaled her sunscreen scent. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know. But I could.”

“Why are you here?” It was miserable and wet, I hated that my eyes were so different and yet still the same. Could still spill over like theirs. She took a long breath but didn’t move away.

“My last girlfriend broke up with me for being . . . sensitive and I thought maybe if I got a tattoo, I’d stop feeling so much. I’d prove something. I’d feel everything less, you know? It would hurt and then it wouldn’t.”

I took that in a parsec at time. “Are you,” I sniffed. “Are you alright?” Her legs and arms were plastered over mine. “You’re so soft, but, but I don’t want to,” I wipe at my face like it didn’t matter. “Hurt you.”

“I know.” Her face was still pressed to my neck and her lips fluttered across the hallow of my skin. “I didn’t want to hurt you either.”

A stillness settled into my bones. I glanced toward the moon, and it was like looking at like, a terrible moon to another moon. I gathered myself. I took a deep breath. I flattened.

“I shouldn’t have said all that.” My voice had dried up. “We led different lives.” It wasn’t her fault if she was wanted.

“No.���

“I wasn’t thinking . . .”

Her hand wrapped around my wrist. “I talk to Annie sometimes when you aren’t there.”

“Okay?”

“And Davies. And that front desk guy.”

“Daft Jeff. Yes.”

“They all say the same thing . . .” I blinked a couple times. “That I really should wait for you to give me the tattoo. You have a steady hand and an eye for detail.”

“Alright . . .”

“That someone taught you tattooing the right way. They wanted to show you the right way to do it.”

I snorted despite myself. “It’s not that hard. Mags was batty. Who knows why she showed me how to pick up a needle.”

“Don’t you see? They say they wouldn’t know what to do without you.” She was still there. She wasn’t moving, almost in my lap now. “You were wanted.”

“Park?” My voice cracked like a question.

“And you come with me to restaurants and help me buy bottle openers. You find shells for me and help me fix tires.” Her breath was hot and dragged across my cheek. “You are wanted.”

I blocked out her face, her voice, I turned on the sharp white sun inside and for a moment I imagine never opening my eyes back up again. Maybe I could make it night forever inside myself as well. Wouldn’t you rather have something quiet inside?

She wrapped herself around me, fully, one long arm at a time until it was cocoon. Soft. “Listen, sometimes the first people aren’t the right people. Sometimes your first relationship isn’t the right relationship. Sometimes you’re sure the world is one way, and like, always one way . . . and then it rains and the whole world is different again. You know? People pass.”

“My parents aren’t the weather.”

“But they’ll pass.” I should have pushed her off. But even against that, even those words— I liked being held, indulgent as chocolate and twice as guilty. “People sometimes feel forever, especially those kinds of people.” I was off again. “But it rains. And hey, I always know when it’s going to rain.”

I hiccupped; a smile found its way uninvited onto my face, unsure and just wobbly on its feet as Davies. I glanced down after a deep breath. Park grinned back at me and it reached the highest shelves of me all over again.

“So what happens when it rains again? Do you people like you pass?”

“Nah, not me. I don’t know how.” She winked. I didn’t notice that we’re lying flat now, stars and carpet of black above. “You can’t get rid of me. You haven’t given me that tattoo yet.”

The sound of shushing waves filled the midnight air and the moon looked down like that very first bus arriving to get me all those years ago. I wrapped my arms right back around her. She didn’t seem to mind that I was sticky or strange or sometimes kept tearing up all over again even after we’d stop saying anything worth tearing up over. ------------------

It happened. I felt like I should have been more prepared, brought flowers or poetry or earned it through honored warfare. But it happened. I was wearing ripped jeans, a spotty t-shirt and my breath smelled like coffee. We were looking for Park’s lost earring along an overgrown hill she usually biked along.

I found it, one shiny red dewdrop in all that green. Park pointed at some clouds that looked like my last “abstract” tattoo. We lay back in the grass and let the sky pass overhead. She giggled and touched my wrist, side by side. I let her.

“Summer’s almost over.” I mumbled it first.

“Yeah?”

“You find your next step then, college girl?” I tried to keep my tone light. She turned to be on her side.

“Maybe.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

“That does not sound like a college-girl plan.”

“Maybe I’ve got other plans. Maybe I’ve got other priorities, huh?”

“Ridiculous.” A playfully push her shoulder. “A lousy seaside town really isn’t priority material. There’s only one bookshop you know.”

“Two thank you very much. And that’s not my priority either.” Her voice wavered.

“Are you going to share with the class?”

“Is the class ready?” She whispered and I turned toward her as well now, taking in her perfect round face and question-mark mouth.

“I have been.” I matched her whisper. I tremor from my center outward and hopes she can’t tell.

“Do you know what they say about moths?”

“What?” I gave a breathy laugh. It wasn’t what I was expecting. “I’ve heard of them.”

“They tell your fortune.” She was grinning in that way that put out a stool and reached up. “I used to cry a lot growing up, because some kids said that moths are just evil butterflies. I was sensitive and ran all the way home. I threw myself at my mom’s feet and threw a fit about how moths were just evil butterflies. They were just ugly, wicked versions of a good thing.”

“Evil? Well, I suppose you are rather sinister when you haven’t eaten.”

“Shut up. I’m telling you something.” She put a hand on my shoulder. I inhaled deeply and turned over in place to face her. Only the shallow breeze kept us apart.

“I’m all ears . . . though maybe not as many as you.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“What can I say? The sun is adorable. I take after him.”

A finger ghosted over my cheek, tracing the arc of my cheekbone. “Well, you’re not so bad behind those headlights too. Some of us have good day vision you know. And good taste.”

I wished those words didn’t make my chest do funny things. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to hear what my mom said or not?”

“That you shouldn’t worry about evil butterflies?” I wiggled closer. “Because you’ll be really hot and funny and smart one day. So who cares if you’re evil?”

“Yeah, those were her exact words.”

“So?”

“So,” a firm hand took my chin. “Look at me.” I looked at her. I was glad she couldn’t see the flush in my cheeks in any way. “Moths show good fortunes she said.”

“Right. Lots and lots of good fortune.” I breathed, dumbly, of course. She was close and sweet and there was hair in her face. The fronds of her antennae tickle right past my ear.

“They can help you find good fortune. They’re good omens. You know why?” Park’s lips were barely moving as she spoke, hypnotic and unhurried.

“Why?”

“Because they follow the light.”

It happened all at once. Like every cheesy love poem or bad lyrics I wrote in my journals at night. It was every cracked-spine of a book using words like “rosebud lips” and every overdone song about people who find their way to each other.

I kissed her, leaning in with no life vest on or readied crash-landing position. She kissed me and my chest filled with her, breathless, drowning, soft as dreams and stranger than hope. I cradled her and she dragged me closer and closer until it was nothing but floods and brimming.

I’d been nothing before I think, I’d been an island that waits, a bus that leaves, a shadow that hides. And then I had been hers. ----------------- I was strolling home from work along the main road. The thin strip of sidewalk was streaked with bleached sunlight and the salt air was thick enough to burn throats. It was the long way home, but I was in the habit of going back to this corner.

The bus pulled up with little ceremony. It was an interstate one that crisscrossed over empty bellies of land. I stopped in place to watch, just in case, as I had many times before.

A silver head bobbed down the steps and planted herself on the concrete, unbelieving. She took an enormous noisy sniff of the air. “Not so bad!” She bellowed.

“Are you?” That wasn’t meant to be my first word. She was more stooped now and wearing shiny things on her wrist that clanked. She’d lost another tooth. “Mags.”

“Eh!” She yelled and waved frantically as if I hadn’t shot up another inch since I last saw her and started wearing clothes without holes in them. Her eyes sparkled as she tottered over. “So how’d you do, kid?”

“See for yourself.” I smiled. It was nice when the tides came back in. Mags gave me a thorough appraising. “Like this I guess.” I held up my hand. I wiggled my ring finger at her, heavy with a silver band and glittering opal.

“That’s my girl! Always knew you’d find your feet.” She cackled. “Am I too late to give you away, kid?”

I shook my head. She waddled over to me so I could take her hand. I took her home to show her my art and new tattoos, I showed her our terrible one-eyed kitten, Basket (Wicker’s son), and the little house we styled ourselves. I showed her our shoe closet and our queen bed, our messy kitchen and busted screen door. I showed her the moth tattoo over my heart, and Park showed her the matching lighthouse one over hers.

I tried to thank her, of course, I tried to say I owed her more than she knew for picking up an angry, dirty kid and seeing something in her. I owed her everything. But she just patted my hand and said that it’s not about our debts in life, kid. It’s about the becoming.

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