#i think he is also a decent artist. at least when it comes to Moon Environments

[suppenzeit]

i honestly think luther is like pretty smart but only when it comes to very specific subjects. he can tell you everything there is to know about moon rocks. or protein slurry. hes pretty good at physics too. but my god if you expect this man to handle a difficult social situation or anything outside his dozen interests he is near clueless

[jikookiekosmos]

Use My Best Colors For Your Portrait || jjk

➥Pairing: best friend!jungkook/reader, boyfriend!jungkook/reader, artist!jungkook

➥Summary: After surprising Jungkook with his own studio room for his paintings, he couldn’t be any more over the moon. All’s well and good until he’s struggling to find inspiration...which you happily provide him with. He’s ecstatic to find his muse in you, and painting your portrait brings him so much joy. Things take a turn however, when he suddenly realizes what else he wants to paint.

➥Genre: established relationship, tiny bit of angst if you squint, fluff, smut

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~7.9k (small drabbles don’t exist for me apparently, oops)

➥Content warnings: most of this at the beginning is just cute fluff domestic times (finally not much angst!), blonde jungkook, jk ties his hair up at some point (my weakness), jk puts paints on the reader, making out, slight hair pulling, cursing, shower sex times, jungkook has a big dick, oral (m. receiving), very slight mouth fucking, dirty talk, fingering (very brief), unprotected sex (safe sex is great sex), biting, cumming inside, cute times in the shower, jungkook is actually the sweetest, reader and jk are so in love with each other it hurts, also jk saying ‘only for you’ is a thing i started and can’t stop now oops

A/N: hello! This is part of my Only for You (OFY) Drabble series, but it can be read as a stand-alone! Their relationship will make a lot more sense though if you’ve read OFY beforehand. This fic takes place roughly around six months after the events of OFY (so in between that and the dream drabble I also posted).

Once again, thank you to @dntaewithluv​ for her endless support and always giving me feedback, I forever appreciate you and your friendship is more than I could ever ask for 💜

I’ve written a few other drabbles and will list them below, along with a general timeline:

When I Dream of You - ~1 year after OFY

Stay With Me - a few months after the dream drabble

Also, I hope that if you read this, you enjoy it~

➥OFY Spotify Playlist (songs I listened to for inspo)

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn​

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You would do absolutely anything in the world for Jeon Jungkook.

Seeing him happy had to be at the top of your list of favorite things in the world, as it had been for many years as his best friend, and now in the several months since the two of you started dating. Some things just never changed, you guessed.

Which is why you took it upon yourself to change one of the spare rooms in the house you two were renting into a space where he could thrive as the artist he was. Initially, the two of you thought it would be nice to use that space as a work area for you, since your job required you to sometimes do work from home. And for a little while, that’s exactly what you did.

But ever since you found out Jungkook liked to paint – scratch that, he loved to paint, and had been doing so for longer than you thought – the gears started turning in your head.

The current space he was using to create his art was definitely less than ideal. The house had a decent sized garage area, so there was enough room for him to store his supplies and be able to paint without it being too much of an issue. The downside, though, was it was cramped and even though Jungkook said he didn’t mind it, you still couldn’t help the frown from masking your features whenever you saw him huddled up so close to his easel.

For the last few weeks, and with lots of help from internet searches, you’d been slowly converting your space into something like a studio. You didn’t have to worry about Jungkook finding out, either, since he very rarely went into that room seeing as he had no reason to. He respected your privacy the same as you respected his, so this made everything infinitely easier for you in the long run.

The day had finally arrived where you would show the new space to Jungkook. Everything was set up as perfect as you could manage it – at least you hoped so – and you were dying of excitement to show him as soon as possible.

You were also, however, incredibly nervous at the same time. What if he didn’t like it? Even worse, what if he hated it?

Of course, you knew deep down that there was no way Jungkook could hate anything you ever did, unless it was something horrible, but you worried about everything because that’s just how you were. So, when the two of you were sitting at the dinner table one night, you tried hard to swallow the lump in your throat as you listened to Jungkook talk about his newest work.

“I really think you’re gonna like how this one turns out, angel.” Jungkook was offering you a sweet smile as he went to grab another bite of food from his plate. You managed to smile back, despite the hammering of your heart against your chest. He was basically handing you the perfect opening for you to segue the conversation!

“I know I’ll love it, Koo.” You watched as his small smile turned into a full grin, his nose scrunching up in that adorable way that had you falling in love with him all over again every time you saw it.

“Speaking of your paintings,” you started off, clearing your throat while he swallowed down his food. He looked at you with his undivided attention and it made your heart skip a beat.

Ok let’s be real, every damn thing this man did made your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah? What about them?” He twirled more of the noodles around his fork while he waited on your answer.

You gulped. “Wouldn’t you like it if you had more space?”

Jungkook chuckled and placed his fork down, shaking his head as he placed on hand on top of yours that was still resting by your plate. You’d barely touched your food and he noticed.

“Baby,” he started, “as much as I would love to have a bigger space, what I have now is just fine. I know you think it’s stifling my creativity in there, but I’m still creating things and am comfortable.” He squeezed you hand gently before returning to his food.

“I get that you think the garage is fine but what if I told you that- that you could have a bigger workspace.” You finally picked up your fork and were poking around at your own food now, avoiding his gaze. You could feel his stare boring into you regardless, though.

“I mean – yeah, hypothetically I could have more space, but it’s not in the cards for us right now and that’s ok, too. Maybe one day.”

The way he always was optimistic about your future together made you feel warm all over. Jungkook liked to look on the bright side of every situation, and it’s been enough to help you keep your own wits about yourself numerous times now.

But this time you wanted to show him that the future could be closer than he realized.

“Koo, can you come with me real quick? I have something I want to show you.”

You didn’t miss the confused look that flashed across his face for a second before his calm demeanor took over again.

“Of course.” He hopped up from the table, that smile you adored now plastered on his face. “Lead the way.”

“Ok but I also need you to close your eyes.” You reached out to take his hand and were rewarded with an eyebrow raise.

He hummed thoughtfully but did as you asked, closing his eyes and grasping your hand tighter so you could lead him wherever you planned to.

You walked through the house pulling him behind you, feeling your heartbeat quicken with every step to where its pace was almost concerning. Whether or not it was mostly from excitement or nervousness, you weren’t sure.

You finally reached your destination and let go of his hand so you could open the door.

“Keep your eyes closed, ok,” you asked. Jungkook simply nodded and you saw a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He had no idea what you were about to show him, but knowing you and how much he loved pretty much anything you did, he was sure it’d probably make him happy.

And he couldn’t have been more correct in his assumption.

At the quiet sound of you telling him he could open his eyes he did so, slowly at first, blinking to adjust to the light the now flooded over the both of you. It took him several seconds to register exactly what he was seeing, and when he did he couldn’t speak. All he could do was stare around the room, mouth agape.

Decorating the walls were the paintings he had given you, beautiful works of various sizes and themes. Alongside the far wall was a tall shelf that housed all his supplies (how had you managed to get them past him without him noticing?), and even some new things like paints he’d been eyeing for a while and other tools he hadn’t had a chance to get himself yet.

But in the middle of the room stood his easel and chair, set up in the similar fashion as it had been in the garage. His apron was draped across the back of the chair, and there was even tarp laid out underneath the workspace. You research had paid off because everything was set up in such a way that it created the perfect atmosphere for Jungkook’s creativity to shine through in ways it hadn’t been able to before.

You weren’t aware of this yet, however, because you were still watching Jungkook’s reaction. He still hadn’t said anything, and as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, you started to wonder if this was the right call-

Strong arms were pulling you up from the ground and spinning you around before you could process it, making you squeal with delight as Jungkook twirled you before bringing you back down to pepper kisses all over you face.

“Angel, I can’t believe this, you did all this for me?” He was still holding onto your hips tightly, beaming as he looked down at you. Your nod and giggle was all the confirmation he needed before he pulled you into another kiss, this one slightly more heated than the ones before.

“Do you like it,” you questioned when the both of you pulled away to breathe. Jungkook laughed before taking your face in his hands and brushing his nose along yours.

“Do I like it? Baby, I love it. It’s perfect! Thank you so much.” Another kiss. “I love it and I love you, I love you so fucking much.”

His happiness made your heart soar and you definitely knew that you’d do something like this an infinite amount of times if it meant he’d keep that smile on his face.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

A few weeks passed by and Jungkook had been using his new studio nearly everyday at this point. His creations had been increasing in numbers and he was starting to receive commissions from others thanks to his small online shop he’d set up with your help. He still worked at the bar as his primary job, but he was also grateful to have a hobby on the side that could potentially yield something lucrative.

Of course, Jungkook’s increase in his time spent on his art still didn’t take away from his time with you. If anything, it gave the both of you another way to spend time together, since now there was enough space for you to sit in and observe him paint when you couldn’t before. You often sat quietly and either did some of your own work or engaged in your own hobbies while he painted, and it was always peaceful.

There came a day, though, that you never thought you’d experience: Jungkook had run out of inspiration. He’d hit his first real artist’s block and it was taking a bigger toll on him than he would’ve liked.

You rubbed his shoulders as he sat in front of his easel one night, groaning in frustration about his current work. “It’s not turning out at all like I want it to. I’ve been struggling with finding new inspiration and it clearly shows in whatever this is.” He vaguely gestured to the canvas, prompting you to place a kiss on his cheek as you ran your hand through his pretty blonde hair. You knew that always helped to calm him down and this case was no exception.

Jungkook sighed heavily, turning to place a kiss on your palm that was still lingering around his face. “Sorry, I don’t mean to get worked up. It just sucks, you know? I’d been on this really good streak of creating things and now I just…can’t. It’s weird and I don’t like it.” He pouted slightly and the sight made you giggle.

“I know, baby, but you’ll figure something out. You always do.” You placed a kiss on top of his head before you walked around to sit on his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and one of his hands cradled your waist to steady you.

He was humming thoughtfully as he looked you up and down, your hands now playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“What are you thinking about?”

He smiled slyly. “You.”

You rolled you eyes before returning the smile. “Ok, what about me? I’m curious.”

His hand was rubbing up and down your side. “Nothing in particular, just usually looking at you can help me with inspiration.”

His confession made you gasp. “Really?”

He nodded and smiled wider. “Really. You inspire me a lot.” He placed a chaste kiss on your lips before sighing again. “This time though it’s not really working like I’d hoped.”

You watched his eyes close and his brows furrow before an idea popped into your head. “Hey,” you reached down to tilt his chin up so he’d look at you, “It might be a long shot, but: have you ever considered painting portraits?”

He pursed his lips as he thought about it. The simple act made you want to kiss him but now wasn’t the time.

“Honestly…no. I’ve never thought about it before because I usually prefer to paint scenery.”

You searched his eyes as you asked your next question. “Well, if you want to try, maybe you could paint me? Even if it doesn’t go anywhere, maybe it can help spark a new idea or something?”

You watched as his eyes slowly lit up at your suggestion, his face morphing into a smile that you mirrored.

“That’s a great idea! It’s something new and it also includes you, so I already love it.” You chuckled in his lap as he hugged you closer, placing a small kiss on your neck. “Thank you.”

You ran your hands through his hair again before leaning back. “Anything for you. Do you want to start now?”

He thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, we can do that. Is there, uh – was there something specific you wanted to wear for it?”

You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively. “Are you suggesting you want to paint a nude portrait?”

Even though Jungkook knew your body better than you did at this point, your words still managed to make him blush as he groaned. “No, I wasn’t thinking that- not that I’d mind of course just you know, whatever makes you comfortable-”

You laughed at his flustered nature before hopping off his lap. “You’re so cute. I’ll go find something to change into, it shouldn’t take long.”

“R-right,” he stuttered, still clearly somewhat affected by what you had said. You shook your head with amusement as you went to your bedroom to find something to wear. You settled for a purple dress that you knew Jungkook loved, and considering a lot of his paintings involved shades of purple and blue, you figured it would be perfect.

You knew you made the right choice when you stepped back into the room and saw Jungkook’s face when his eyes fell on you. He looked like he’d never seen someone so beautiful (he looked at you like that a lot and it always did something to you) and your lips curled upwards into a smile before you could realize it.

You stopped in the doorway and twirled, giving him a full view of the dress. “Is this ok?”

You already knew the answer, but it was always nice to hear him say it.

He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it’s perfect. You can, uh, you can take a seat whenever you’re ready.”

While you were changing, Jungkook had pulled one of the loveseats from the living room into the space so you’d have somewhere to sit or lay while he painted you. The loveseat was a dark blue color and it contrasted beautifully against the color of your dress. You decided to lay on it in a comfortable pose, and you couldn’t help the small giggle you let out at Jungkook’s reaction to your choice.

You had laid an arm behind your head, turning your face so you were looking at him while the rest of your body was sprawled out on the loveseat. One of your legs dangled over the side, making the skirt of your dress hike up somewhat. You were very comfortable, and Jungkook was very happy with your pose.

“Make it pretty, ok,” you joked with him. He smirked at your comment.

“You know I will. I’ll use my best colors, just for you.”

“Wow, I feel special,” you quipped back. You were rewarded with the sound of his beautiful laughter as it echoed off the walls.

“You’re the most special,” he admitted honestly. You gave him a brilliant smile and he felt his heart stutter.

With the way you were looking at him, Jungkook thought that if he didn’t start painting, he may never start. So, he forced himself to tear his eyes away from you so he could find the paints he needed to get started. He tied up his hair, a few of the blonde strands escaped and framed his face but he didn’t seem to mind it too much as he got to work.

Thankfully, since you’d chosen a good position, the process was easier than you thought it would be. You just had to lie there and watch him work, which you happily did. You enjoyed watching his face scrunch up in concentration before relaxing again as he brushed stroke after stroke onto the canvas.

You were so beyond proud of him that it made your heart swell inside your chest.

Jungkook had been painting for a little over half an hour before he announced it was time to take a break. He could paint for hours on end without stopping, but that was when he didn’t have a live subject he was working with. He walked over to you with a bottle of water so you could sip from it without having to disturb your position too much.

You sat up slightly so you could drink, and while you did so, one of your dress straps started falling down your arm. Jungkook immediately went to move it back into place, but as he did, he couldn’t help but stare at the dark contrast of the purple satin against your skin. He thought it was so pretty, and his mind started wandering to how the paint itself might look-

He shook his head to rid himself of the thought. He may have been covered in paint himself, but that didn’t mean he needed to go putting paint on you.

When you were re-situated on the loveseat once more, Jungkook strolled back over to this easel. Unfortunately, since that thought of you covered in paint first took up residence inside his head, he now found it hard to focus on anything else. While he stared at you to try and resume your portrait, he just kept picturing you with painted streaks covering your skin instead.

You must have noticed he was distracted because soon you were calling over to him. “Kook? Is something wrong?”

He gulped and shook his head. “No, nothing’s wrong! You’re doing great, baby.”

“Do you need me some other way?”

Such a simple statement and yet it was stirring something inside of him. Asking him if he needed you a certain way ignited that desire to once again paint you and he found himself unable to hold back from asking anymore.

“Yeah, I uh, I wanted to try something.” You were confused when he got up and started walking toward you, only carrying his paint supplies. At first you thought maybe he just wanted to get closer, but he didn’t bring the easel with him.

“What are you wanting to try,” your voice was laced with curiosity. He gave you a shy smile.

“I was just thinking about how pretty it would be,” he looked down at the floor then back up at your face before he continued, “if I used you as a canvas instead.”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat at the request. Jungkook was asking to paint you, not paint you on a portrait, but to paint you. The suggestion intrigued you a lot more than you thought it would, which is ultimately what led to you nodding your agreement. “I think I’d like to try that, too.”

Jungkook’s face broke into such a dazzling smile that excited you to no end. You watched as he pulled his chair close to you, as well as some tarp to place around the area. When he was situated where he wanted to be, he dipped his brush into some of the purple paint on his palette and gently lifted your arm. The feeling of the paint as it brushed along your arm was foreign but not unwelcome. There was something about it that was almost calming.

You were now also recalling all the times you’d told Jungkook how pretty he looked even covered in paint. The pretty colors contrasting with his beautiful, golden skin tone never failed to take your breath away no matter how many times you saw it. You wondered briefly if this is what he was experiencing now as he took his time painting your skin.

He was focusing on your with such intensity and taking great care to only get the paint where he wanted it, so as to not stain certain parts of you or your dress. The sight of his caution made that familiar warmth bloom in your chest again.

He took his time painting beautiful designs along your arm before moving down to paint on your thighs and legs. He was alternating between purple and blue hues now, and the swirling patterns reminded you a lot of his tattoos that you adored. You had spent many nights lying next to him in bed, tracing the lines of his tattoos until you were too sleepy to keep it up. Seeing the patterns against your own skin briefly made you think about if you would ever want to get a tattoo. Before you put too much thought into it, your attention was pulled back to Jungkook who was sitting up now and admiring his work.

The time had passed by much quicker than you anticipated, and it was starting to get dark outside as the light was no longer filtering in through the windows of the room.

He seemed satisfied as he nodded and smiled. “Wait here, I’ll be right back. Stay just like this,” he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before leaving the room. When he returned, he had his coveted polaroid camera in his hands. Jungkook was also big into photography, and every one of his hobbies suited him perfectly in some way.

“Is it ok if I take a photo of you, baby?”

You grinned and nodded, being careful not to move too much from your current position. He snapped the photo and the polaroid was printing immediately after. When he pulled it from the camera, he laid it down on the table next to his easel so it could develop properly.

Jungkook wiped his hands off on his apron before taking it off and drawing his attention back to you. He could stare at you like this all day, but he knew it would probably be best to get you both cleaned up and paint-free.

He offered a hand for you so he could help pull you off the loveseat. When you were up fully, he wrapped his arms around you, careful to not get any of his exposed, paint-covered skin on your dress.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he murmured softly, brushing some of your hair out of your face as his eyes scanned up and down your body to admire his creation. “And as much as I love seeing it, we should probably get this paint off soon. When it dries too much, it can be a bitch to scrub off, and I don’t want that for you.”

You chuckled at that and simply nodded your head. You’d been lying there for nearly 2 hours at this point, so you were pretty tired and ready to just relax for the night.

The two of you hopped into the shower shortly after, helping each other rid your bodies of the remnants of paint covering you both. You always loved taking showers with Jungkook, because whether or not it was a short, regular shower, or one shared after a night of intimacy, these moments were some that you cherished the most and wouldn’t change for the world.

You got lost in the feeling of Jungkook scrubbing shampoo into your hair, letting out soft noises as your eyes slipped closed.

Your noises always threatened to drive Jungkook crazy, and this time was no exception. He couldn’t deny the stirring of his cock as he listened to the little moans slipping from your mouth at such a simple action.

Of course, since he was so close to you, there was no way you didn’t feel him. His cock was hardening against your thigh, and the fact that you were turning him on by not doing much turned you on.

You could feel the wetness start to slip past your folds, but you decided to not make any moves yet, wondering how far you could take this before either of you snapped. You knew that teasing him was one of the quickest ways to get Jungkook riled up.

“Feels so good, Koo,” you shamelessly moaned out as he kept massaging the shampoo into your hair. You heard him let out a small grunt at your deliberate words, feeling him twitch against your thigh as he got harder.

You leaned your head back to give him a better view of your neck, since you knew he loved to mark you up there. His hands were starting to tangle in your hair, but he took care to not pull too hard as he brought his attention back to the task(s) at hand.

He was currently focusing on two things: 1) getting the rest of the shampoo out of your hair, and 2) not fucking you up against the shower wall. Doing the first thing was currently keeping him from acting on the second, but you certainly weren’t helping with that.

Your head lolled around on your neck, your eyes still closed as your sounds got louder. He knew you were messing with him now, so as retaliation he pulled on your hair a little tighter, making you gasp.

“You’re doing this on purpose, angel,” you could hear the dark tone of his voice over the waterfall in the shower clearly, and it just made you more aroused. You chanced opening your eyes to look at him, and the sight you were met with made you moan louder, this time without trying.

Jungkook was staring at you, mouth slightly parted as he let out pants of his own, his blonde, soaked tresses falling in his face and covering his eyes. His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he tugged on your hair again, making you reach out to place your hands on his chest.

“You’re teasing me to get me worked up, hm?” All you could do was nod, his husky voice and the feeling of his hand wrapped in your hair making you wetter by the second. There was no use in playing coy any longer. You wanted him, and he wanted you.

The question now was: who would make the first move?

You realized that you wanted to be the one to make the first move, so you did.

“So, what if I am,” you asked sweetly, wrapping your hand around his length and pumping him slowly. His eyes closed and he leaned his forehead against your shoulder, fingers now digging into your waist.

“You know what happens when you do that,” Jungkook warned. You absolutely knew what happened, and you definitely wanted it to happen.

“Hmm, I don’t know, maybe you should enlighten me.” You teased him as you gently nibbled on his earlobe, increasing your pace as you continued to stroke him. You heard him let out a soft moan against your shoulder as he placed a kiss there.

With no more hesitation, you turned him slightly and sank down to your knees in front of him, delighted by how his cock jerked in your hold when you steadied it with your hand.

Jungkook stared at you wide-eyed as you started moving your hand around his shaft before placing a gentle kiss on his tip, the prettiest groan falling from his lips. “Fuck, Y/N, are you sure you want to do this?”

You peeked up at him as you fluttered your eyelashes, knowing that seeing you like this always aroused him beyond belief. You continued moving your hand in slow, languid strokes, and he was almost fully hard now.

He let his head hit the wall behind him, soft curses and praises for you tumbling from his mouth. 

Seeing him like this had to be near the top of the list of your favorite sights to ever witness. And right then is when you figured it’d be the perfect time to surprise him. Without a warning you opened your mouth and took all of him in that you could reach.

Jungkook’s reaction was immediate.

“Hey wait what are y- oh my God, fuck.” His loud moan echoed off the walls of the room, causing a fresh wave of arousal to pool between your thighs. You sucked harder as you hollowed out your cheeks, ignoring the way your throat constricted around him.

“Y/N, shit, you feel so good, your mouth- fuck, angel, I don’t want to hurt you,” Jungkook was panting hard above you, eyes shut and brows furrowed, jaw slack as he unabashedly continued to moan at your actions. He was reaching behind him to try and hold something, but the smooth wall had nothing to offer him. His fingers were slipping against the tile, so he gave up and instead settled for clenching and unclenching his fists.

You pulled off him with a pop, a string of saliva left in your wake. You smiled up at him as you kept stroking him, not wanting his pleasure to disappear in the slightest.

“You won’t hurt me, Koo,” you reassured him, earning another groan from the man falling apart under your touch. He twitched in your hold, and you stuck your tongue out again to run it along the underside of his length. 

Jungkook chanced looking down at you, only to look up at the ceiling a moment later while he muttered a strained “holy shit.” 

“C’mon baby, don’t you want to look at me,” you taunted him as your tongue played with the head of his cock, swirling around him. The low groans coming from above you let you know that he enjoyed that a lot.

“Fuck, angel, I-” Jungkook’s sentence died as a moan ripped itself from his throat when you surged back down to take all of him in again. This time you continued moving, feeling the tears in the corners of your eyes but not stopping.

It wasn’t like you’d never sucked him off like this before, seeing as it was one of your favorite activities, after all. But it was a rare occasion where Jungkook would let you take all of him in one go for fear of hurting you. So, you took these chances whenever they presented themselves, and the reward was always, always worth it.

Tears along with the water droplets from the shower were coating your face but you didn’t care. All of your focus was on Jungkook and how he was trying so hard to restrain himself above you. You watched his fists clench and unclench and you could feel himself struggle to keep his hips from moving forward so he didn’t fuck your mouth.

Yeah, you weren’t having that. You wanted him to let go, wanted him to know that it was ok, that you wanted this. You reached out to grab one of his hands and placed it in your hair, relishing in the way his fingers immediately tangled themselves into the wet strands. You pulled your mouth off of him again, but not before letting your tongue drag slowly across every inch of him.

You looked up at him again as you pumped him leisurely, waiting until he brought his gaze down to stare at you, only for him to quickly close his eyes again.

“God, I can’t look at you, like I want to, fuck do I want to, but you look so fucking good like this, I’m not gonna last-”

You always found his stammering to be cute and you didn’t want to torture him too much longer. Deciding that you’d teased him enough, you took all of him into your mouth again, intertwining your fingers with his unoccupied hand and giving it a squeeze. The intimacy of this particular action was always enough to get both of you going, and it had Jungkook’s hips stuttering as you sucked hard.

“Fuck, baby, always take me so good like this. Always so good for me, I love you, fuck,” he was groaning as his head hit the wall behind him again, his hold in your hair tightening the same moment you felt him buck his hips like you’d been wanting all this time.

Unfortunately, for you, whenever Jungkook would fuck your mouth, no matter how much you wanted to sit there and take it without issue, his size always proved to be too big for you to handle and it had you coughing around his length in no time. Which, of course, always made Jungkook stop what he was doing before either of you had the chance to enjoy it much.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry, are you ok?” Jungkook pulled you up while you kept coughing, brushing the wet strands of hair out of your face and looking at you with worry. You nodded and tried to reassure him, wanting to get back on your knees for him, but he held you in place.

“You don’t want me to continue,” you asked, your voice a little more hoarse than usual thanks to what your throat had just endured.

Jungkook shook his head. “No, angel, it’s not that. If you do keep going, I’ll cum in no time.” He brushed some of the water away from under your eyes, not knowing if it was tears or from the shower. He bent down to place a rough kiss on your lips, such a contrast from how his hands caressed your face.

“I want to be inside of you when that happens,” he murmured against you, gently biting down on your bottom lip and pulling a whine from you, in turn causing more wetness to gush between your legs. “If you’ll let me, of course.”

You almost laughed. “Koo, you know I’ll let you do anything at this point.”

He chuckled. “That’s a dangerous admission, baby. You sure about that?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Of course I’m sure. I’d let you do anything you want because I trust you. Because I love you,” it was your turn to kiss him this time, and it was filled with so much passion it nearly made him dizzy. Jungkook could never get tired of the feeling of your lips against his, of hearing you say that you loved him, of feeling your skin pressed against each other during times like these.

Jungkook was hooked on you and he never wanted to go back to a time where he wasn’t.

You pulled him out of his thoughts as you tugged on some of his hair, earning a delicious sounding grunt from him. You whispered your next snarky comment right by his ear.

“You gonna fuck me now, baby?”

Your bluntness had his cock quickly stirring back to life after it had softened some during your coughing incident. He growled low and dark as he started placing love bites on your collarbone.

“Sure you don’t want me to return the favor first, angel?” He was marking up your skin while he asked this, so you almost didn’t realize what he was asking specifically but then it dawned on you.

“As much I love seeing you with your head between my legs,” you responded, tugging on his hair again, “I’d rather have you fuck me up against this wall.”

He moaned against your collarbone, the action vibrating your skin. He pulled off of you and brought your lips to his in a filthy kiss. “Your wish is my command.”

Jungkook lifted you up then by placing his hands under your ass and you got the message, wrapping your legs around him as he held you up. He turned so your back was against the wall, the only things now holding you up being his strong arms and the smooth tile behind you.

He first plunged two fingers inside you without a warning, making you let out a silent scream. He smirked at the way you clenched around his fingers, scissoring them before pulling them out again. You whined at the loss and he shushed you with a gentle kiss on your nose.

“Had to make sure you’re ready, baby.” He had one arm wrapped around your waist, trapped in between your back and the shower wall. With his now free hand, he lined himself up with your entrance, moaning when the tip of his cock was sucked in by your velvety walls.

“Fuck, you already feel so good and I’m barely in yet,” he clenched his jaw as he sank further into you inch by inch. When he finally bottomed out and was filling you up in the best way possible, you clenched around him to tease him further, making him curse.

“Watch it, angel,” he growled. “You’re gonna make it very hard for me to not blow it if you keep doing that, and I want you there with me when I do.”

“Then I guess you’d better start moving,” you teased, wrapping your arms more tightly around his neck. You knew what was coming next; Jungkook would put you exactly in your place, just like you wanted. And for that you needed to hold on tight for dear life because that man could rock you like nothing ever had before.

Jungkook grabbed your hips firmly in his hold as he fucked up into you, making sure you were held against the wall and weren’t in danger of falling down as he did so. Despite this, each thrust had you sliding more up the wall until he would bring you back down again. When he found a pace that was he was sure he could resume without either of you getting hurt, he finally let go.

To say you saw stars would be an understatement. Jungkook was fucking you with so much vigor that you weren’t just seeing stars, you were sure you were seeing entire galaxies. Your sounds kept dying out on your tongue because the feeling was so overwhelming and it had your trembling around him in no time.

“Can’t make any sounds when I’m fucking you this good, angel?” Jungkook was taunting you now and quite frankly, he was right, he was fucking you so good that you were finding it hard to say anything. And the mixture of his dirty words with the sweet pet name you adored had you clenching even tighter around him, causing him to groan loudly and grip your waist tighter.

You eventually found your voice again when Jungkook hit a certain spot inside of you, pulling an embarrassingly loud whine from your throat. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, tears almost brimming in your eyes once again at how good he felt.

“Fuck, Jungkook, feels so good, oh my God-” your praises made him twitch inside you as he moved his hands now from your waist to hold you up by cupping your ass, squeezing tightly in time with his thrusts. He was bouncing you up and down on his cock now with his strength alone, and the thought of it made your orgasm start to approach at an alarmingly fast rate.

“I love feeling you so close like this, I love you, so fucking much, shit-” Jungkook cut himself off as threw his head back to get his hair out of his face, careful not to let his balance falter or his grip slip on you. He had to do it though because his hair was keeping him from seeing your face now that you were leaning your head back against the wall, and he couldn’t have that.

“I love you, Jungkook, I’m close, fuck,” you were breathing hard as you couldn’t control your moans any longer, eyes squeezed shut and tears falling from just how much pleasure you were receiving and also how much you loved this man. Jungkook was the man you’d loved for so many years before you were finally able to call him yours. He always took care of you in every aspect of life, and you reciprocated it as best you could. And it was because of this kind of love you two had for each other that made these intimate times all the more meaningful. You were sitting here, back up against a shower wall in the arms of the man you loved while he rearranged your guts, and it was such an emotional experience alongside being a pleasurable one that the tears actually made sense.

Jungkook bit down on your shoulder and pulled you out of your reverie, making you cry out as he muffled his own sounds against your skin. You could tell by his thrusts that he was getting close now, his grunts happening more frequently and louder, echoing off the tiled shower walls. The water had already started to get cold but neither of you cared. Nothing outside of the two of you existed in this moment, and that was exactly how you liked it.

“Touch yourself for me, baby, I’m close, want you to be there with me,” Jungkook breathed out, his grip on your ass harsher now and you were sure there’d be marks tomorrow. You loved it when he marked you up, and even though he always felt slightly bad about it, you knew Jungkook loved seeing the marks, too.

You obeyed his command and reached down to rub your clit, nearly shrieking at the new wave of pleasure that washed over you. The sensations on your clit, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside of you, the way he was holding you, and all the things he was saying to you was enough to finally push you over the edge.

“Jungkook, I’m cumming, fuck-” you barely had time to utter out your warning before you were cumming hard around his length, your body spasming as he held you through it.

He sped up then, chasing his own high now, the feeling of your walls clenching around him making his eyes roll back. “Fuck, I can feel you, always so perfect for me, I’m close-”

His eyes were closed now so he didn’t see you reach for him. You pulled him closer so you could kiss him, hoping to help him along this way, swallowing down every beautiful sound he was making. “C’mon Koo, cum for me, wanna feel you fill me up.”

“Fuuuuck,” he moaned out, loud and long as that was the last thing he needed to get him there. His hips stuttered a few more times before you felt him twitch and fill you up, just like you wanted. Because gravity was working against you due to your current position, you could feel some of it dripping out of you despite Jungkook still being inside of you. The feeling made you scrunch up your nose, and the action made Jungkook laugh and mumble out ‘cute’ as he placed a kiss on the tip of your nose.

He pulled out of you carefully before moving you away from the wall so he could set you down on your feet. Your legs were a little wobbly, so he let you brace yourself against him as he helped you clean up.

The water was nearing a very uncomfortable cold temperature, but the both of you would rather endure that than leave the shower without cleaning off completely. After the workout you both had, there was nothing more you wanted than to curl up with each other in the bed.

After helping each other get clean again, and stealing quite a few kisses while doing so, Jungkook helped you out of the shower since you still didn’t trust your legs and dried you off before taking care of himself. Your heart swelled at the sight of him as it always did when he would take care of you like this.

You just hoped that you were taking care of him in all the ways he needed as well. You were certainly trying your best and would continue to do so for the rest of your life.

Once you were both snuggled into bed, him with an arm under you and you with your face nuzzling against his chest, you broke the silence first.

“If that’s what happens when I let you put paint on me, we should do that more often.”

Jungkook, who was tracing invisible patterns on your back in between your shoulder blades, laughed so hard you shook along with him. When he finally calmed down, he was able to answer you. “I totally agree. Although, I don’t think that happened because I painted you. It happened because you-” he booped you on the nose “-teased me, knowing full well what happens when you do.”

You shrugged as best you could with his arms around you. “You love it, though.”

Jungkook chuckled. “Indeed I do.” He placed a kiss on the top of your head and resumed his earlier soothing tracing of patterns on your skin. You rested your cheek against his chest and could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. The combined actions of his hands and the steady thrum of his heartbeat was enough to have slumber calling your name in a matter of minutes.

Jungkook had something more to say, however.

“Hey,” he called gently, making you look up at him with groggy eyes. He smiled at the sight. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For helping me. For being my muse. I’ve got more ideas now about what else to create, and I don’t think I could’ve gotten there without your help.”

You smiled at him before you placed your head down again and shut your eyes once more, breathing deeply. “You would’ve eventually. That’s just how you are. Maybe I sped up the process, but you would’ve done fine.”

“Perhaps,” he sighed and looked at the ceiling. His glance travelled down to look at your nearly sleeping form, laying on him calm and unbothered. Moments like these topped his list of favorite things, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.

“Goodnight, angel,” he murmured softly, not sure if you were asleep or not yet. You muttered something unintelligible back, but he knew you were telling him goodnight all the same, and it brought a smile to his face.

Jungkook wanted to tackle life with you, the good, the bad, all of it; he wanted to do it with you by his side. He wanted to make sure every day of your life from here on out was filled with happiness and love and everything you deserved in the world, just as you wanted to do the same for him. He knew you’d do anything for him, and he’d do anything for you.

Only for you.

[blueprint-han]

desert rose — yang jeongin.

↪ “ Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid. ”

— “ You’d have never thought that one incident would’ve enlightened you of how much in love you were with your childhood best friend, but it turns out to be more of a problem when you’re threatened with a life-ending disease with no cure whatsoever. Or so you thought. ”

pairing: jeongin x reader

genre: hanahaki au; fluff, angst with a happy ending.

⇥ warnings: hanahaki disease, mentions of blood (not very graphic but enough that it’s tagged), lots of angst, also in this world the hanahaki surgery isn’t discovered yet, because it’s a fairly recent discovery, also y/n’s dad is nowhere mentioned in this fic idk take it as you like but i imagined him to pass away when y/n was 12 for some reason :((, please do not read if you triggered by topics of death or blood or disease! These themes will be prevalent though not in super explicit detail, they are still there. If I missed a warning, let me know. <3

word count: 11.09 K

type: long one-shot.

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not represent the activities of the real Yang Jeongin, nor is associated with JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

part of: the @bystay​ skznta event, written for @stayndays​ !!

song: inspired from Desert Rose by Lolo Zouaï <3 No relation to the fic but it did inspire the ~vibes~.

↯ note: I’m gonna be honest this tired me out so much that I’m glad I finished it, it took me longer than I expected and it got longer than I expected, but nonetheless, here you go shayna! Hi!! It’s me! Your secret santa! Sorry I couldn’t send you that many asks because my uni is a bitch™, and I wish I could’ve made this better, but I guess this will have to do for now. I hope you like it, and I loved being your santa! 🥺 I hope we can interact more in the future, and this isn’t edited so pls go easy on me （＞人＜；）eiury2y4er okay happy reading! <3 love you shayna! <3 I wish I could give this more editing time :( but... i hope u still like it!  ⇥ dawn.☀️

Jeongin’s eyes are really pretty.

The first time you'd made this miniscule observation was during your summer vacation road trip when the sun shined a tad bit overly bright, and Jeongin’s umbrella had a hole in it. The exact details of how it ended up torn don’t matter, but the way Jeongin’s eyes seemed to shimmer in the harsh noon sun almost made it seem worth it.

You remember it clearly — He’d smiled brightly when his eyes met yours, eyes crinkling into tiny little half-moons before his expression turned neutral. At that moment, you were lost into the abyss that was his midnight black orbs. They seemed to hold glimmering stars in them, ones that outshone the specks of white in the night sky.

Looking back, you didn’t think of it much, opting to shake your head off it’s daze before running to where Jeongin stood, throwing a bottle of water into his backpack and laughing at some corny jokes the rest of the group cracked.

Jeongin was a friend — a good friend. In fact, you could call him your best friend, though it had never been verbalized. You couldn’t remember exactly when or how you’d gotten closer to him — it just happened, like everything important in this world did. Like how Jeongin says “It was fate, Y/N, fate” in that old-man-philosopher voice to get you to laugh (Of course it would never work, but you’d still laugh, because anything to see him give you that bright, toothy grin and that little scrunch of his nose in acknowledgement).

The memory of how it all started  is as clear as the sky, as pure as the pigment of a rose.

“Don’t stray too far away, alright? Meet me back here in two hours.” The instructor screams, and all the students chime in with a collective “Yes, ma’am!”. 

 “Good, now go collect your flowers.”

A flower-picking expedition isn’t a common event in a school field trip, at least in your school. You’re more used to the normal visits to the ice cream factory, or the butterfly park (which, to be fair, had some pretty flowers, if only you could pick them) or another affiliated school. Nevertheless, you don’t complain, because the prospect of your school giving you a chance to collect all the pretty flowers you could spot here had you on top of the clouds.

You’re allowed to go alone or in groups of two, and of course, Jeongin has you by the arm the moment your teacher had screamed “Disperse!” at the top of her lungs (P.E teachers had a thing for screaming, apparently). Ignoring the teasing glances the other boys made towards the both of you, you set sail on your path, scanning all the bushes for any wild and unique flowers you could find.

“Oh look, there’s one!” You pointed out after a good four-minute-walk, almost stumbling in your one-inch-too-tight-shoes and ignoring Jeongin’s giggle at your antics. You beckoned him over to where you were standing and he obliged, tucking his sweater paws into his pockets before walking over to where you were staring at the pretty flower.

So, flowers. They’d always fascinated you. You’d developed said fascination ever since you were six. Something about the sheer way the petals were arranged, the various ranges of coloring — vivid, gradient, muted — the beauty of something so delicate and intricate always drew you in. You found yourself examining a flower for hours, and surprisingly, you never grew tired of it. They’d helped you through a lot when you felt particularly down, too. Perfect distraction — snuggling against Jeongin’s arm and playing with the flower he’d always pick out for every visit, surrounded by calming; almost numbing silence along with the sound of his steady breathing, maybe sometimes his heartbeat too when he’d get overly affectionate. Flowers in a way, in every way, were your escape. You loved them. 

“Hmmm.” Jeongin hummed over the sounds of the leaves susurrating and rustling on the ground, the wind enveloping you like a cold, yet oddly comfortable blanket. He fixed his round glasses over his nose, quickly flipping through his encyclopedia. No one really questioned him as to why he carried it wherever he went — but just like you, he had a vivid fascination for flowers too. It was something the both of you fit like a glove on, and you were beyond grateful to meet someone who could click with you so well.

“This is wolfsbane, we can’t pick it.” He said, shaking his head. “It’s poisonous, the whole plant is.”

“Oh…” You pouted, staring at the flower once more. You took in the sight of lush, violet petals, the way they wrapped around the centre and had almost no smell.

“Hey.” He touched your hand worriedly. “You didn’t touch them, right?”

“No, I didn’t. I know better than to touch plants without knowing what they are.”

“Good.” There you could see it again. That lovely, bright smile, one more of relief this time. When you looked into his eyes, you seemed lost — you could capture every flutter of his lashes against his cheeks, count every lustrous star that was laid in his eyes. “That’s good, the poison can be absorbed easily through your skin.”

“Yeah.” You let yourself smile at him, hands dropping down to fiddle with the hem of your frock. 

“Come on, I wanna get some shots for my book. Plus some flowers.” Pulling at your hand, he led you amidst the varying degrees of green and the damp smell of grass for a good distance, before halting in front of a bush. You knew what he’s referencing to by ‘shots’. The camera that hangs around his back, ready to immortalize the memory into his SD card, or rather make a polaroid (or a painting, if he’s being artistic) and tape it to his notebook along with the pressed flower.

“Look!”

Trip a step back, and you yelp at the sudden intrusion to your pace, pouting at Jeongin before looking in the direction he had his eyes fixated on. “Roses.” You giggle, kneeling in front of the bush and hissing when you feel the damp coldness of the grassy floor seep into your knees. “They’re pretty.” 

You can barely hear the sound of students walking past you — the moment seems almost captivating — nothing heard, nothing felt except the whirring of the wind, and the fresh smell of various plants mixed together, it carries.

This part of the garden seems particularly shady and cool, and some of the roses haven’t bloomed yet. A few rosebuds, a few half-bloomed roses, and two fully bloomed, deep red roses, sitting nicely against the green foliage.

Jeongin kneels before you, and you turn to smile at him, chortling at the way his glasses are about to fall over his nose again. You ruffle his black hair gently before fixing the glasses up his nose. 

“You might wanna get a chain attached to that thing. You know those strings that go around your neck and to your glasses to hold them in place?”

Jeongin chuckles. “It’s alright. I don’t like my glasses anyways.”

“Whyyy…?” You whine, poking his arm playfully before directing your focus back on the rose. “You look so adorable with them.”

Your friend feels a smile tug at his lips, leaning in to pinch your cheeks lightly. “You’re adorable.” He says, before focusing on the rose, (thankfully) oblivious to the way your cheeks feel warm after his action.

“Here, let me pick them out and then we can press them into our journals.” Yes. The both of you have matching journals, owing to your near obsession with flowers. You oft share them with each other and get fascinated by how the other views the flower, how they delicately craft words into how the little gift of nature meant to them. It’s a heartwarming tradition — one of the main reasons you follow it till date. 

Jeongin pulls out a pair of scissors from his satchel, and albeit with a lot of force (and the adorable nose scrunch™, manages to cut off a decent amount of stem with the fully bloomed flower, carefully bringing it to his nose to smell it before doing the same to the other one. And all the while, you silently watch.

“Here, this one is more fresh.” It’s so surprising how he can just say that by looking at the flower. Then again, you know him better than anyone, so it’s not surprising at all. He looks at you with dreamy, fluttering eyes and that precious smile on his face, his hair falling perfectly on his forehead. You want to reach out and fix the stray hairs back into position, but you hold back, swallowing the lump in your throat when you look into his pretty, pretty eyes. Trying your damnedest to not get mesmerized, lost in them once again.

It doesn’t seem like a very, very special moment. And to you at that time, it wasn’t special. You simply ignored the heat that crept up your face at his silent gesture, nodding sporadically and ignoring the way you tensed up more when your fingers touched, barely.

Your heart suddenly thumped against your chest with renewed vigour, and you could tell Jeongin was close to noticing it too. 

“T-thank you, that's very sweet.” Fixing the frills of your frock, you smooth them over before looking further and deeper into the garden.

“Lend me a hand, please.”

You once again, ignore the way your heart flutters at his statement, silently extending your hand and covering up your sudden emotion with a smile. His hand feels soft, warm in your hold, fingertips slightly rough from when he used to play the violin. You like it, though.

“Here.” He places the rose carefully in your palm, making sure no thorns prick the delicate skin of your palm, and you can’t help but smile at the tiny reassurance. A nod of approval and you tuck the flower away neatly into your satchel, almost like a valuable present he’d given you, oblivious to the way Jeongin’s eyes twinkled at your action, his smile beaming.

My god, who would’ve known this flower could’ve brought you so, so much trouble?

It had started simple, almost unnoticeable. Just little glances towards Jeongin when he’d come over to watch a movie, getting lost in the way his hair looked exceptionally soft to touch, silently drifting off into space as you admired him from the backseat during class — sure, you were supposed to be focusing on the lesson and taking notes, but something about the way the rim of Jeongin’s sunglasses caught the sunlight and created a lens flare effect was breathtaking to watch.

That, combined with his beauty, his personality. It was too much, too much to handle.

You found yourself waiting to get a glimpse of him, even a tiny glance of his smile would be enough to make your day — to make your heart flutter. 

He was pretty.

You suppose it’s because being Jeongin’s best friend meant you already knew about the kind and empathetic man he was — but for the love of god, you could not stop your heart from fluttering when you heard his name, let alone looked at him and his mind-numbingly pretty smile, his dazzling eyes that always seemed to keep you off the ground.

Oh my, was this love?

You didn’t believe it. You didn’t agree, couldn’t accept that this was love. Maybe it was just your way of showing appreciation for him, for everything he’d done for you? Yes. That was probably it. 

Love wasn’t something you’d experienced — how could you jump to the conclusion? 

But you couldn’t pin the feeling you were feeling to another word — though you were desperate. The way your heart beat faster around him, the way you started noticing all the tiny details that made you fall for him even more, and for what? Just because he happened to give you a fresher, more lusciously colored rose after choosing them on his own? 

Jeongin had noticed it too — it was hard not to when you’d start fiddling with your thumbs, twirling your hair, and the way heat would rush to your face when he did as little as smile at you — you’d fallen for him — and while he was ever-the-oblivious to realise the implications of your actions, he did know that something was wrong.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Jeongin asks rather dully, seeming kind of worried about your current state. You’re resting your head against his lap, but Jeongin can feel the warmth of your cheek through the thin material of his shorts — and not the regular kind. The kind of heat one would radiate when they’d either been overly flustered. Or possibly a fever.

He rests a single palm against your cheek and your eyes flutter shut, and there it is again. The butterflies in your stomach, the fuzzies in your head, and the tingling that shot up to your fingertips. “Are you sick? Is that why you’re oddly quiet today? You haven’t said or eaten anything.”

“Ah, no, I’m alright.” You try to hide the dizziness in your voice, snuggling in his hold before fluttering your eyes close. Thankfully, Jeongin doesn’t question it. 

“Alright, we won’t talk about it if you don’t want to.” Even though you aren’t facing him right now, you can feel him smile in melancholy. 

“Hey Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

Oh, you knew.

Sometimes you wish you didn’t — maybe that would’ve prevented it from ending this way.

It’s such a common scenario — in movies, in books, in media. Two best friends falling in love with each other, confessing their love in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over gentle touches and lingering kisses. You’ve always had an attachment to those kinds of movies or books — because for you, that kind of love was special in it’s own way.

Those little ways the lead characters had of showing each other their undying love, those subtle acts were so special, so special in their own way. Those books had shown you how heartwarming, how vulnerable yet rigid, strong that relationship could be. It was such a pretty world to explore, to fantasize. You kind of felt that you and Jeongin were the protagonists of those books, those movies.

Except, you had no happy ending.

The books failed to show how painful it was to swallow, to digest the fact that you could be nothing more than friends. Sure, there had been some moments where the main leads would be sad, but it was nothing compared to this, this suffocation in your chest that slowly built up, day by day, minute by minute, second by second.

It was hard.

The first prick in your chest hadn’t been entirely painful. It was barely noticeable even. Simply a tiny jolt of pain when you bent forward to grab your books from your locker. It had only been a slight jab, like when you’d accidentally poke yourself in the rib with the edge of your hardcover diary while picking it up. Nothing too hard.

Then came the slight feeling of breathlessness. You found yourself unable to run a full round in P.E (when you could easily do so beforehand), having to stop in between to catch your breath. You figured it could’ve been your dust allergy because the P.E room wasn’t cleaned that often, so it made sense. Somewhat. Still sceptical, but nonetheless, you covered up your random outbursts of coughs with any and every excuse you could find when your parents questioned you about it.

It was hard, but you figured it was just a matter of winter passing by, and soon you’d be alright.

Would you, though? You couldn’t bring yourself to accept that there was in fact something wrong happening to you, pushing behind that feeling of paranoia every time with a smile on your face and a hold of your breath, wishing for the pain to ebb away.

Who would’ve thought that a sudden infatuation would have led to your demise?

Jeongin can hear the noises.

Those loud, dragged out wisps of air that you borderline struggle to take in and expel out, Jeongin can hear them.

He can feel your struggle. It’s not easy for him to look at you like this, curled up into a ball and ignoring the rampant burn in your chest. The movie isn’t even the main focus right now. Jeongin has something to say, and he’s had enough of watching you struggle. He’s rather here to persuade you to go to the fucking doctor, and get some sort of diagnosis instead of beating around the bush.

Strange. Jeongin feels oddly affectionate today, when usually you’re the one to initiate such gestures. All he wants to do is pull you into his arms and rock you back and forth until you fall asleep, because you seriously seem like you need it.

“Y/N,” he calls, watching you lift your head up from where it’s rested against your knees. You don’t reply, because right now, your throat seems like a barren desert and all you can seem to let out is a croak.

Jeongin sighs and rolls his eyes as if in deep thought, turning on the couch to face you before touching the tops of your cheeks with his hands — they seem overly feverous. 

“What’s going on?” He asks sternly.

“What d-do you mean?” You manage to get out, feeling your chest hurt more and more with each syllable that leaves past your lips in a croaked voice. It felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing your chest with the sharp edge of the knife, the burn in your throat and lungs getting too much to handle. You can’t even tear your focus from the fiery sensation to revel in the feeling of Jeongin’s soft palms cupping your cheeks.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting weird ever since the expedition.” Worry is laced throughout his tone, mixed in with a dash of sorrow to give rise to the most heartbreaking sound you’ve ever heard. Though you know otherwise, it almost seems as though Jeongin is disappointed in you.

“You’ve been getting more and more sick—” he raises a hand to stop you from contradicting his statement. You only look at him with mellow eyes, knowing that what he says is right. You’ve been ignoring your health for too long. 

You can’t help it, either. While you have an inkling of what might’ve happened, you’re too stubborn to accept it, let along your unrequited love for your best friend, who seems ever-the-oblivious.

“—and you can’t tell me it’s the winter allergy, love. I know you more than that to believe it.”

Shaking your head in dismay, you turn around to get up. You can’t be having this conversation right now, not with the faintest taste of blood lingering at the edge of your throat — you can’t be showing yourself like this in front of him — broken down, vulnerable, confused of your own feelings, having no idea of what you should be doing.

Your mother had pointed it out too, at this point. They suggested going to the doctor, and you outright refused. You didn’t want your suspicion to come to life. It couldn’t- it couldn’t be this way-

“Y/N!”

Jeongin grabs your hands to stop you in your position and turns you around.

And that’s a wrong move.

Your whole chest tightens, and the thorns that stab against your chest has never been more painful. You cry out loudly, only causing them to dig deeper into your skin and almost bleed. Jeongin’s eyes widen in shock at your sudden, unexpected reaction and only tightens his grasp on your hands.

Which again, is a very wrong move, because the following bouts of coughs that take over you shake you up from the core. Jeongin feels blanked out looking at how much you’re suffering right now, so much that he doesn’t feel the wet, yet light flutter on the back of his hand.

When Jeongin snaps back in from his momentary daze, he’s borderline horrified.

He’s convinced, completely certain that there’s nothing more terrifying, heartbreaking, scarring — he could go on and on — than what he just saw. He can almost feel his heart break into a million tiny shards, but he knows that it’s nowhere equivalent to the pain you’re going through.

Well, looks like your suspicion did come to life.

Because what Jeongin sees is, gah, he feels horrified. There’s blood dripping down your lip, staining the skin below garnet red. Your eyes are tinted pinkish-red too, most likely from the exertion that came along with the horrendous amount of coughs that took over you.

Red, red everywhere. Jeongin had previously thought of red as one of the most beautiful, and most interesting colors ever — a symbolism of love, nothing but the pure love he felt towards you.

But now, all he could think of was how much he was tormented by the mere sight of the color.

When his eyes, still blown wide in shock, trail down to his lap, the mere sight of what’s littered on it leaves him in tears.

Red petals, everywhere. All over the back of his hands, all over your lap, all over his lap.

Jeongin could probably spend ages, ages sobbing and whimpering about the sheer pain the sight in front of him brought. It tormented him beyond imagination. This should be a dream — Jeongin wants to wake up any second now, anywhere, in your lap, in his own bed, just anything to save his heart from seeing you this way.

Yet when you cough again, the pain in his heart tells otherwise.

“Y/N!” He chokes out a cry, and from there, he acts quick. He could cry about this later — he needs to find you some help, and now. 

You feel numb. As numb as you possibly can when you see the tears in Jeongin’s eyes, though your sight is clouded by your own tears. You’re numb to the blood dripping down your chin and pooling in your lap, you’re numb to the feeling of those bloody petals littered all over the couch. 

“We need to get you to the hospital, quick.” He gets up, wiping his eyes that are surprisingly, surprisingly overflowing with tears. You barely feel the handkerchief quickly wiping against your mouth, causing you to snap from your trance and look at him. The numbness doesn’t fade yet.

You doubt it ever will.

You’re not sure that the events after the incident go super quickly or as slow as a snail, and you’re not in any state to care about it either. Jeongin had called your mother when he drove you to the hospital — albeit over the sound of your repetitive and raucous coughs — and now your mom’s standing next to him outside, nervously prancing back and forth as he waits for the doctors to come out.

The hospital corridor is moderately lit — perfect setting for Jeongin’s mood right now. There’s no sound except for the occasional encounter when a nurse or doctor happens to walk past them. The hanahaki treatment section of the hospital isn’t the most crowded place — surprisingly enough, the doctors had immediately known what had happened to you.

Your mother can’t bring herself to thank Jeongin for dragging you to the hospital — she’s too paranoid. Your daughter coughing up blood and — Jeongin hadn’t mentioned it to her — flower petals over a movie night isn't the best news you’d want to receive when her friend calls you; so Jeongin understands why your mother is overly quiet.

He doesn’t try to reassure her either. It’s hard to do so when she’s gonna find out her daughter houses a wedding bouquet in her chest — and Jeongin isn’t that oblivious to not know what’s going on, especially standing in the hanahaki department of the clinic. His mother, not so much. All she can do is silently sob and mutter prayers repeatedly, hoping her daughter would be alright. Jeongin feels his heart break more when he sees your mom like this, and he knows he’s not gonna last at this rate, when he’s allowed to enter your room.

At this point, he can’t get past his own brain screaming a million different things at the same time, none of them coherent enough to make sense. He’s a mess right now — red eyes puffy and swollen, hair completely disheveled and half of his sweatshirt hanging out of where it was  neatly tucked in.

Two hands at his heart, and that’s when he notices the red rose petal stuck to the back of his hand, probably from when you’d coughed all over it. It’s fairly large in size — Jeongin examines it, in a slightly successful attempt at trying to distract from the feeling of anxiety that builds up inside bit by bit. It’s a deep, dark red color, exactly like the rose he’d given you that day, at the trip.

The boy sighs to himself before pulling the petal off his hand, eyes widening when the blood underneath it tints the skin it runs across. 

That’s when a lump forms in his throat, but he isn’t given time to cry, because soon enough, the sound of a door opening clicks through his ears, and Jeongin’s head snaps up.

He can see you from where he’s standing, and his whole world freezes in front of his eyes.

The flowers inside your chest had grown moderately large — that’s what the doctor said, at least. You’d been hiding your disease for two months, and it wasn’t until the end that Jeongin caught on — you’d been too stubborn to accept your fate. Maybe this was how it was supposed to end, after all. 

You couldn’t accept it then, but you did now. Did it seriously make a difference?

Jeongin had seen your scan, and what he saw would’ve truly been pretty, if not for the fact that these flowers could be the cause for your imminent death. The roses had almost fully bloomed — and the thorns were pricklier than ever. Jeongin could almost feel them stab against his skin, and he didn’t even have the disease. It was confusing — things were too confusing right now.

You couldn’t speak much, the painkillers you were on were making you drowsy and causing you to quickly fall asleep. Even if you weren’t asleep, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Numbness ran through your veins. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything after what had happened.

Jeongin and your mother hadn’t spoken to you after the doctor had shown them your scan, and they preferred to not break the news to you either, figuring that you were pretty shaken up from the incident already.

The doctor said he could give you two weeks before the flowers filled your lungs completely and blocked your throat.

And Jeongin is devastated.

When the effect of your painkillers wear off and you open your eyes, you feel a soft sensation brushing against your thumb, slowly turning to look at your best friend — tears streaked all over his face, eyes ridden with dark circles and red and puffy, his voice sounded nasal as he silently cried, eyesight focused on the floor.

“J-Jeongin…?” You mumble past your oxygen mask, surprisingly not noticing it’s presence until right now,

He perks up at the painful call, lifting his head to gaze into your eyes. He looks worse than you look right now, if you’re to be honest. You doubt he’s even brushed his teeth or had breakfast. The hospital room is pretty dim just like the exterior, but the sunlight coming from the open window is enough to light up the whole room, enough to at least see your friend’s features clearly.

“You’re awake.” he says as a matter-of-fact and you nod, gently taking off the contraption placed against your nose. Jeongin flinches like he wants to stop you. But then freezes when you try to slowly get up.

Turns out that’s a wrong move, because you can soon feel the thorns of the garden you have in your lungs prick against your skin, making you gasp and shriek in agony. Jeongin jerks up and places a hand on your back, and the other across your stomach — and gently maneuvers you into an awkward but comfortable position, before lifting the top of the bed into a reclining position before laying you down onto it.

“Careful, love.”

Your chest tightens at the actions once again, yet you try not to cough like you did the last time. Surprisingly biting on your tongue works to rid the feeling of suffocation, or at least distracts from it.

“Where’s m-mom?”

“She went to pick up some of your essentials, plus a few clothes.”

“D-did she eat? Did you eat?”

Jeongin smiles at your concern. It’s something he’s found endearing about you — how you always seem to put others first, even though you’re in a worse situation. Though the habit isn’t healthy, Jeongin can’t seem to get over how thoughtful one would have to be to act that way all the time. You’re so innocent, so kind — you’re one of a kind, at least for him.

“What?” You chuckle, noticing Jeongin’s lingering stare on you.

Your friend only beams, taking your hand in his once again. “I forced her to eat something because of her medication, so you don’t have to worry. I ate along with her too, though the canteen’s food doesn’t taste that well.” 

A soft giggle leaves your lips and quickly morphs into a set of coughs, more petals fluttering all over your lap and hands. When Jeongin stands up to call a doctor, you lift a hand to stop him, gesturing for him to sit down.

It isn’t as intense as the first time, but there’s still a tiny bit of blood dripping from the corner of your mouth, which Jeongin quickly goes to wipe off with his thumb. You flinch at the warm touch, sighing to yourself before dropping your gaze to your lap.

“So…” You start. “What did the doctor say?”

“What?”

Jeongin seems visibly tense at your question, kind of like he was dreading it. Which he was. He knows enough about this to know that patients usually don’t like knowing, and in fact can be traumatised by knowing that their apparent death would be in two weeks.

Jeongin in fact has no idea how he’s so calm. He should be sobbing, trashing, looking for a way to hold you back. He shouldn’t be so calm.

He figures he’s just accepted fate. He’s relishing what could be his last moments with you.

You don’t reply, and Jeongin knows he’ll have to make something up.

“They said it’s just a regular allerg-”

“Jeongin.”

The boy freezes.

“Don’t lie to me.” Your voice is laid with so much pain, Jeongin wants to reach out and crush every problem you have into his fist. He wants all your sorrow and worry to dissolve, and right now, he just feels helpless. He feels powerless.

“How many days do I have left?” You ask, sniffling before wiping your tears away. “Just tell me already, Jeongin-”

Jeongin’s grip tightens against your hand as he whispers — “Two weeks.” 

The words are only let out as a soft mumble, as though Jeongin himself is questioning the statement the doctors put forth. Really, in two weeks? Would you really be gone? Would he seriously never see more of your smiles, your loving gaze, those times when you’d get overly shy of his compliments, those times when you’d silently smile at him from afar?

Was this the end?

“Two weeks.” You repeat. Your voice honestly sounds like a croaking frog, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

“Hey Y/N…?” Jeongin hesitantly calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” He puts his other hand on yours. “Two questions, actually.”

“Mhm?”

“This disease you have… hana-”

“Hanahaki.”

“Yeah, that.” A hand runs against the back of his neck and he continues. “Be honest, did you know that- that you had this disease before I found out?”

“Jeongin…” You’re about to shake your head, but then you remember the deadline. The deadline by which, you’re no longer going to be here, no longer going to be able to cuddle Jeongin during movie dates, no longer be able to even look at him from afar, or close for that matter. In other words, you didn’t want to end your days with him based on a lie.

Therefore you sigh, breathing out a ‘yes’ as your shoulders droop down.

You can hear Jeongin’s shaky sigh too.

“W-why?” He clenches your hand tightly, sadness mixing in with what you can only call disappointment. “How could you be so selfish?”

It's too late to take back those words now.

“Wh-what?” You raise your eyebrows, feeling scared at his sudden question. “Jeongin, I wanted to be sure-”

Oh who are you kidding? Jeongin and you both know that you’d hidden it because you didn’t want to accept it. It’s too late to change that now.

And Jeongin seems to know that too.

“Don’t- Y/N.” His breath morphs into sharp inhales, as though he’s downright angry at your actions — you know he has every reason to be — still, it doesn’t ease the pain in your heart. Or maybe that’s just the flowers.

“Do you think this is a joke?” His sobs grow louder in fervour, and you feel yourself break at the sight. The room is so, so quiet that you can hear his faint mumbles. You can hear the cries his heart screams in agony, letting you go is painful for him. The thought, rather the sound, only makes the plant in your heart grow further.

“Y/N- did you not think of your mother? Of me? Did you not think of what would have happened if you left us? You think it’s gonna be easy on the both of us? On everyone?” His gaze stern and his voice stable, you don’t get affected by his words, but you do understand what he means — and maybe wish that you could’ve reversed your actions.

“How could you, Y/N?” He gets up from where he’s seated beside your hospital bed. “How could you think that this would be the most appropriate action?”

Jeongin knows he’s angry. Jeongin knows you’re going through a lot. But he’s too.

He’s not angry at you, not at himself, but fate. He’s mad that this is your fate, that you have to go away so soon. He’s mad that he can’t do anything to help you, in any manner.

You don’t say a word, which only causes Jeongin to sigh — disappointedly, again — and walk to where his coat is hung against the edge of his bed, picking it off and pulling it over him in a hurry. Every cell in you wants to scream at him, apologize for what you did, but your voice feels small, almost like you can’t force it out of your throat.

He goes towards the door that leads to the corridor, stopping for a second before turning to look at you.

“Are you gonna tell me, at least, who this person is?”

“W-what?” Things are too confusing right now.

“Hanahaki comes with unrequited love, Y/N. Are you gonna tell me who didn’t return your love?”

“You didn’t” You want to say. But then again, you stay quiet, not being able to handle the intensity of the moment.

Jeongin wants for two seconds, then sighs and shakes his head. “Whatever, I guess.”

And then he leaves.

In the next week, your health goes down drastically. More of petals expelled out of your lungs, more blood dripping from between your lips, more of your mother’s horrified expression as she runs away from the room while the doctors tend to your coughs. More sobs from your mother when she thinks you’re asleep, more melancholic smiles when you’re awake.

But you feel so empty.

Every piece of you feels like it’s being ripped apart. You can’t even sit up without someone’s help, of such intensity is the pain. The pain of knowing that your love would never be returned. 

The pain of knowing that you hurt the person you loved truly.

You were put on your oxygen mask 24/7, and instructed to not take it off whatsoever. Your medication stopped taking it’s usual effect, and if anyone saw you the way you were outside the current circumstances, they’d have assumed that you haven't slept for 8 days and were going to crumble into the earth any second.

“Honey?”

You gasp at the sudden intrusion to your thoughts, turning around to see your mother, sitting next to you and holding your hand with her own. You hum as a response, clearly unable to respond more than a mere mumble.

“Did you and Jeongin fight?”

A pang of guilt floods through your nerves at the mention of your friend’s name. He’d come to visit you only once in the past week. Perhaps even he couldn’t handle the fact that your death certificate was ready to be signed soon, and was trying to not be tormented by the fact. Or perhaps he was just angry.

“W-why?” You croak.

“I convinced him to come stay here while I go pick up a fresh change of clothes, but it took me quite a bit of arguing.”

You feel sad for her. She’s clearly paranoid — you can hear it in her voice, the shake lingers throughout. Yet she holds it in, trying not to let you worry about it.

You don’t answer her question. The last thing you need is for her to get mad at you too, though you doubt it. Your mom has never been the kind to yell at you for anything — provided, you’ve never given her a reason either.

“Do you think he’s mad because I didn’t tell him about the person who didn’t return m-my l-lo-ve…?” your throat goes dry towards the end and your mother quickly hands you a glass of water. You chug it down and sigh in relief, breath still short.

“Is that person him?” Your mother questions with her gentle, soothing voice one that can make you relax on the first listen. There’s no use lying to her, you figure. She knows you too well to do that, plus, like you said, you couldn’t bring yourself to end your days with her on a lie.

“Yeah…”

“Oh sweetheart,” She brushes some of your hair off your face, sitting down again before drumming her fingers against the back of your hand gently. “I don’t think he could be mad at you.”

“But he is. Didn’t y-you see? He didn’t bother to meet me as much after our argument. He’c c-clearly mad.”

“Hmmm,” Your mother ponders. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I have known him for a while, dear. He’s been with you for more than five years. Maybe he’s having trouble taking this in? Just like…” Your mother stops after that, but you know the completion.

Just like her.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

You simply don’t get it. You should be scared. You should be sad and devastated that your end was going to come soon.  You should be thrashing around and crying and wailing in despair — you just don’t have  the energy to even bother about your end. It’s depressing, but you know there’s no way you could avoid the inevitable, or get your lover to return your love.

Love wasn’t supposed to be something forced, it had to happen naturally. And if Jeongin didn’t develop it naturally, you just had to learn to live with it. Or not.

“Don’t be, darling. Everyone deserves to love, just like how they deserve it back. I wish it could’ve ended differently.”

“It’s alright mom. He loves me too… just not on the way I love him.”

You sniffle as a single tear runs down your chin, though you and your mom aren’t given enough time to speak more when you hear a familiar voice at the door. 

“Hey Mrs. L/N.” Jeongin says, shrugging off his half snow-covered coat before hanging it onto the bedside. Did he seriously walk in the snow? All the way here?

“Hello, Jeongin dear.” Your mother stands up, picking her coat before moving to fish the car keys from her purse. “Thank you for watching over Y/N while I’m gone, darling.”

“It’s no problem, Mrs. L/N.”

“Oh, so formal.” Your mom chuckles, though in her despaired state. “Y/N, you get some sleep, it’s about midnight dear.” She leans over to kiss your forehead while Jeongin excuses himself to the washroom, and you nod. 

“Good night mom.”

“Good night, and don’t worry about him. He’ll talk to you eventually.”

Oh, how reassuring. “Mhm.” You smile, closing your eyes to drift into slumber before Jeongin returns, because the last thing you need right now is to feel sad and cry over how you’d hurt him.

By the time the sound of the door clicking resounds through the space, you’re already asleep.

 It’s way past midnight. Jeongin shouldn’t be up. 

Somehow, he still finds himself seated next to your bed, staring fondly at your calm features as you finally get the rest you’ve needed for the past few days. 

Oh, he wouldn’t be able to compare your sheer beauty to even that of the moon; even when you’re in such a fragile and vulnerable state. Your eyelashes are still and unmoving where they sit against your skin, your breath is calm and slightly wavering as you struggle to breathe slightly. 

His hand slips into your own gently, and his heart melts when you shift, tightening your grasp on his warm skin before falling into a slumber again.

Why was he mad in the first place? Jeongin feels dumb for acting so quickly on his emotions, especially when you’re in a bad place at the moment. He wants to wake you up and apologize, but he can’t, because you’re sound asleep — and that’s a good thing, since seep comes so scarcely to you these days.

Then, a single tear falls from his eyes. His thoughts traverse to the dream he had the previous night — you, cold, dead in his arms. Him, sobbing, trying to wake you up but you’re really gone. He can’t even hear your mother’s cries from behind him, because he’s devastated to know that you’ve left him. The dream had woken him up in a cold sweat — it was then he realised that he’d committed a mistake, and agreed to come visit you, because you had about 5 days left.

His thoughts then traverse to the conversation you had with your mother, while he was standing outside in the cold hospital corridor, curiously listening.

“Is that person him?” “Yeah…”

When he heard those words, countess, infinite thoughts crashed at his head; all at once. Nothing made any sense. The reality of the situation was dawning on him too quickly, and Jeongin was having a hard time processing it. 

You loved him? He was the person who didn’t return your love?

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” He mumbles in confusion — so much confusion, so much hurt — he wanted time to just stop for awhile and give him a fair chance to analyze the situation.

But, once all the initial thoughts were out of the way, only one question remained:

Was he the reason you were going to die?

Jeongin felt like a murderer — like he’d just stabbed you in cold blood. He knows it is’t like that — just like you’d said, love should come natural. So why did Jeongin feel so bad? WHy did he feel like he was the one at fault?

A fond smile crosses his lips when he remembers the book where you keep all your flowers safely. Who would have thought your fondness for flowers would morph into the reason for your demise?

Quiet, hushed in the midnight wind, Jeongin gently brings out the rose he’d picked from his satchel. It’s almost relieving to see a rose in it’s true glory, without scattered petals or blood covering the flower. A part of him grows sad that you won’t be able to gush over flowers together anymore, he won’t be able to see your smile anymore. It hurts him. It stabs his heart over and over again, and Jeongin is pained — almost like he’s being put to death slowly — he wants the pain to end, but only suffers and suffers.

The stem has already been cut and the thorns have been thrown out. Jeongin leans over to tuck the flower behind your ear, fingers brushing against the almost cold skin at the back of your ear before letting another tear slip from his eye, running down his cheek and falling on your palm.

A strange, oh-so-strange feeling creeps up on him. It’s like… a fluttering in his heart? Jeongin can’t quite place it — heck, he doesn’t try to make sense of it. There are more important things to look at, right now. He suddenly has the urge to pull you into his arms and gently murmur sweet words into your ear — seems odd for a situation like this, but oh well, feelings are feelings.

He pats your hand gently and smiles, before moving to sleep on the smaller bed in front of your own. Not allowed to go far, though, because your grip on his hands tighten almost immediately, and Jeongin tightens to look into your eyes, sparkly and slightly droopy from the intrusion of sleep.

“Y/N, go to-”

“Stay.” You mumble, feeling your voice choke as the petals threaten to spill out for what seems like the millionth time. Yet, you manage to spill out another, “Please?”

Jeongin feels like he’s about to cry. Your expression is so, so hopeful, he can’t bring himself to deny. He wouldn’t in the first place, because who was he to deny what could be his friend’s last wish?

A sob bubbles up his throat, but he swallows it down, smiling with melancholy before following your weak pull on his hand, genty climbing on your bed before slotting himself between you and the steel grill that prevented patients from falling down. He gently tucks his hand under you and pulls you close to himself, tensing up for a second when you wrap an arm around his own, gently rubbing on it before drifting off to sleep. You want to cherish this moment — this could be the last time before you could never see him again. Fuck your medication for making you so drowsy. Or not, because you were certain you would start crying, and that would certainly not end well.

The whole room falls silent for two seconds, and you fall asleep almost immediately. 

And then, Jeongin releases all his tears, and everything comes crashing down on him. He breaks apart.

The world was too cruel to you. He was cruel to you. He can’t believe that in less than a week, you’d be gone. Gone from earth. Flowers had lost all their beauty for him, the moment he saw you coughing them up on that couch during movie night.

He wanted to do anything. He wanted any small sign to show that you would stay with him. He was in so much pain, he couldn’t accept your fate. He wanted to grab your hand and pull you to himself, keep you close, he couldn’t let go, he couldn’t give you up, he couldn’t —

“I love you.” You mumble unconsciously in your sleep, and Jeongin loses it then and there. His throat feels dry as tears flow and flow and don’t cease no matter what. His body shakes like a sobbing child, but thankfully you’re knocked out from the effect of your medication. He hasn’t cried this hard in a while, guess there’s a first time for everything. The three words pierce his heart, and they suddenly hold more meaning than anything — Jeongin wants to hear those words on a loop; he feels strangely ecstatic when you say them.

And so, with a shaky voice and a sorrowful tone, Jeongin replies after pressing a kiss to your forehead — “I-I love you, t-too.”

His eyes flutter shut and he basks in your arms just one last time, holding you close to himself as he finally, finally finds himself at peace, next to you.

When your mother finds you both snuggled up and asleep together, a smile crosses her lips. A hopeful smile.

“Are you ready for your scan, Y/N?”

You feel oddly light today — one would say it’s because your body was close to shutting down completely, but your throat felt a bit, a tiny bit clearer and less barren than a fucking desert. Nevertheless, the scan does make you nervous. This would make clear how long the flowers would take to reach your throat — the doctor’s estimation was about three days, which seemed way too short for Jeongin.

Oh, how embarrassing it was when the nurses, all giggly and mushy-eyed, found you snuggled with Jeongin like a teddy bear at the early hours of the morning, waking you and Jeongin up and only cracking up more at your bewildered expressions when you find yourself tangled with each other.

Before the scan, Jeongin had held your hand softly, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. You’d shyly smiled, nodding before letting the nurse drag you to the scanning room.

The details of the scan itself aren’t important, it went pretty well — as decent as a scan could possibly go. You’re able to cooperate with your nurses pretty feasibly, you feel the sudden urge to get out of your wheelchair and try walking. Sure, you can still feel the choked feeling in your throat and the burn in your lungs, but somehow, it’s just a tiny bit lesser than usual. Maybe it’s because your painkillers are working more effectively. Maybe.

Jeongin’s waiting for you outside when you’re led out of the room, and he smiles when he sees you.

You don’t even remember what you’d said the previous night. All you remember was passing out while Jeongin was in the washroom, and then waking up to him cuddled up, warm and snug next to you. His features were clear and calm as the ocean on a sunny day, a small smile on his lips, as though he was dreaming about something happy. You hope he did, because that boy deserves the happiness.

“You seem energetic today.” Jeongin says, taking note of your perky demeanour, that only causes you to giggle slightly. 

Sure, you don’t remember the happenings of last night, but he does — and he’d promised himself to cherish every last second. Because in the end, it’s all he can do — for leading you to this state, for getting mad at you and wasting precious time in which he could’ve stayed with you. He’d promised to not let you live your last moment sad and desolated.

“I feel light, for some reason.” You mumble with a broken voice as Jeongin takes the wheelchair from the nurse, listening to what she has to say before bowing and nodding, leading you back to your room.

“What did she say?” You ask, fiddling with your thumbs.

“She said your scan results would come in an hour.” 

“Oh… alright.”

For some reason, you’re too joyous today, after the little surprise you got as soon as your eyes opened. You can’t seem to bother about the end— you want to live in this moment, right now.

When you come back to the room, Jeongin lifts you up bridal style, causing you to gasp before placing you down onto the bed. The nurse waiting there quickly fixes your IV and helps you sit into a comfortable position (though it’s hard when thorns keep pricking at your ribs) before bowing to the both of you, and leaving.

Your mother has once again left to go fix up the house, leaving you in the trust of your best friend. You aren’t complaining though, especially when Jeongin sits down beside your bed, taking your hand in his before playing with your nimble fingers — just like always.

He looks gorgeous today. After a lot of nagging from your mother, he’d used the hospital bathroom to wash his face and comb his hair neatly, and you’re happy about that because he looks fresher and happier than ever. You want him to be smiling and happy, even when you leave, because… did you need a reason? You just wanted him to be happy and content with his life.

The thought invokes an angsty feeling of melancholy, but you brush it away, trying to focus on Jeongin and the silence that drops on the both of you like a warm blanket. You smile softly at him, gently letting go of his hand before tucking a few strands of his hair behind his ear, almost melting when Jeongin’s eyes flutter close.

“Hey Jeongin?” You call, grabbing his hand once again and interlacing the fingers together.

“Yeah?”

“When I… leave,” You notice the twitch in his expression, but nonetheless, continue. “Will you bring me flowers every week?” 

You remember the red rose you’d found tucked behind your ear when you woke up — it had dried up a bit, but nonetheless, it was one of the prettiest objects you’d ever seen — even though there was a whole bouquet of them spewing out your mouth every two seconds.

“I will.” Jeongin sniffles. The thought of having to visit your grave every week to bring you flowers is immensely saddening, but Jeongin agrees anyways. He agrees, for you.

It’s the least he can do.

It’s funny how you say “leave”, like you’re going to your hometown for a month-long vacation and not actually like you’re going to be buried any time soon. Jeongin thinks it’s because you don’t want him to get too sad over his loss — a stupid thing to wish — Jeongin knows this loss is going to affect him in more ways than one.

“Jeongin, d-don’t cry…” You cup his cheek, gently brushing your thumb against his cheek and wiping away the tears that fall, one by one. Jeongin shakes his head, placing his palm on your hand and smiling at you.

“Can you do me another favor?”

“As many as you’d like Y/N.” He says. He’ll do anything you want — it’s your last wish after all.

“Bury me with my flower journal, please?” It may seem like a weird claim to bury oneself with a dusty old book, but Jeongin understands the significance — you want to hold onto those memories you made with him while writing it together, while picking flowers together and all those happy moments you exchanged.

Jeongin tries not to let his voice break again. “I will.”

You beam at his acceptance. Jeongin feels the slight thump of his heart against his chest, and a warm feeling envelopes him from inside. He’s suddenly overcome with an urge to press delicate kisses on your eyelids, though he tries to shoo it away, because it isn’t the main point of focus right now.

But soon your mother walks in, and it’s all small talk and deep conversations with her at the same time. You have breakfast, persuade (more like force) Jeongin to scarf down his meal and giggle about some random jokes thrown here and there, until the doctor comes in. Both Jeongin and your mother stand up, bowing and wishing good morning while you do too. Wish, not stand up. You’re basically tied to the bed at this point.

“Mrs L/N, I’d have had a word with you in private, but I think Miss Y/N needs to hear this too.” 

“What is it, doctor?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and Jeongin’s grip on your hand tightens, thumb rubbing over your skin to soothe your obvious tension. The doctor slides the transparent, firm sheet off it’s envelope before letting the sunlight hit the back of it, in order to enable a clearer viewing.

“This is… the most unusual case I’ve ever seen, but —” He points to a junction on the scan. “The flowers have actually reduced in amount, and they've separated from the windpipe by a whole two inches. See?” He points at the edges of the lungs and at the windpipe, but you understand what he means. The flowers are there, no doubt, but it’s almost like — a whole stem of them just disappeared into thin air.

Of course this could’ve been because you coughed them up, but the coughed up flowers go instantly, or so you’ve heard. There’s confusion written on all of your faces right now.

“Is that why I was feeling lighter and easier to breathe today? Because the flowers withered off and gave more space for air?” You ask in your low voice, and your doctor nods.

“Seems like it. Do you have your previous scan?” Your mother hands it to him quickly after a great deal of fishing out of her purse.

He places the earlier scan behind the newer one, and suddenly, you can see what he means. It’s almost like they shrunk — you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but nonetheless, you’re happy you can breathe a bit more.

“What does this mean, though?” Jeongin asks, bewildered at the strange news. The room is so quiet and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, and you can see both your mother and Jeongin waiting for the doctor’s words.

“It means that we’ll take another scan tomorrow, a deeper one. And check if the flowers are actually collecting somewhere else, or just disappearing. And if they are disappearing…” He trails off, and you giggle when Jeongin and your mother lean forward in anticipation, though curious yourself.

“She’ll be home by Christmas. Or even earlier, if the recovery speed is fast.”

“Y-You mean… I can be cured?” Your voice shakes with hope, and the doctor smiles sweetly at you, before nodding.

“Yes dear, you’ll be the first patient who’s walked out of this place cured from hanahaki.”

At that moment, it almost feels like every flower inside your chest wilts out — you feel so light, so ecstatic. You’re over the clouds at the news, and don’t even hear your mother’s cries of thankfulness before the doctor heads out.

“Y/N!” Jeongin exclaims, ignoring the fluttering feeling in his heart and the burn in his cheeks when he cups your own. “You’re gonna come home!”

You shake with soft sobs, and smile at Jeongin.

“I’m gonna come home.” Provided the scan tomorrow showed a positive result, but you don’t bother to mention that part.

And the next day, when your scan results come back, a huge smile adorns your face, and your mother is in tears. Happy tears.

The sunshine is overly bright today, leaving you squinting for sight, especially when you’re seated in a garden out in the open, book in one hand and the other one resting against the cool, moist grass. The air holds a musky forest scent, and you revel in the feeling of the shivers the cold air that cuts through skin brings.

The park is relatively empty for the morning — you’re glad it is, because it brings on a sense of calmness that you seem to like. The surroundings are just perfect — you don’t want anyone to disrupt your mood right now.

So yeah. The story ends that way. You recover, bit by bit, though it takes a whole bunch of time. There were times when you still had to cough out those petals, but you couldn’t be happier — it felt as though you were spitting out those vicious thorns that had tormented and threatened your life. The doctors had no idea how you’d managed to recover — but this was an interesting case to put into their portfolio, so they weren’t complaining.

And oh, you had Jeongin to help you through all of it, of course. 

It had taken you two weeks to be discharged from the hospital and be able to finally walk again, but when you did it — you felt like a whole new person, in a whole new world. Sure, you had to hold onto your mother or Jeongin wherever you went for the first week or so — it was almost like your legs had turned jelly.

When you returned home, Jeongin insisted that he take you to the garden every day, and when you complained that you couldn’t walk, he’d lifted you into his arms (bridal style, again) and carried you all the way there, and then given you a piggyback ride you all the way back home.

Eventually, you ended up telling him the truth — that the unrequited love that caused everything was because of how you’d fallen for him. You figured he deserved it, especially when he’d stuck with you the whole time without any hesitation and helped you whenever he could — he was truly one of the nicest, kindest people you’d ever met.

Of course, you were surprised when Jeongin only smiled and told you that he knew what you were talking about, and then proceeded to narrate how he’d overheard you in the hospital. Giggles left his lips when you gave him that meme-worthy look, making him shake his head before slinging and arm over his shoulder.

Surprisingly, that night ended just like the books — lovey-dovey confessions exchanged in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over shy smiles and lingering kisses. The both of you finally gave in to each other.

Huh, so maybe you were wrong about them — books — after all.

So when, your love was returned in the end, every flower in your chest had finally disappeared, and you couldn’t have been happier.

“You know when I brought you here I wanted you to help me pick flowers and not read a book?”

You laugh at the voice that comes from behind, closing the book shut before placing it on the side while Jeongin takes a seat beside you, hissing at the slight coldness of the grass. Ah, what a romantic scenario — green and colorful flowers as far as the eye could see, a book that you’ve been trying to finish but have never been able to because your boyfriend keeps interrupting you with his random outbursts of affection, and said person sitting right next to you.

“Well, you keep interrupting me all the time!” You chuckle, sliding a hand behind his shoulder before pulling him down to lie on your lap, and Jeongin complies. A sigh of content leaves his lips when he feels your fingers comb through his hair to rid them of any tangles — Jeongin feels stupid to not realise how much he loves you. It feels nice to call you his, feels nice to be able to say I love you, in all of it’s true meaning.

“What, I can’t cuddle my girlfriend now? Come on,” He takes your other hand in his, turning onto his back to look up at you before pressing his lips to the back of your hand. You feel the heat creep up your cheeks when he calls you his girlfriend, still not being able to take it in without growing immensely shy.

“You crybaby, fine. I’ll read the book later only because I love you and you give exceptionally nice cuddles.”

“Hmm, good.” He mumbles sleepily, eyes fluttering shut in calmness when he feels your fingers brush away any stray locks of hair that may get into his eyes. The reaction to your touch is so immediate these days, Jeongin thinks it’s a part of his routine now. Spend at least an hour admiring you in all of your happy, healthy glory.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, admiring his features in silence. His hair has grown longer now — Jeongin refuses to cut it no matter your endless verbalizations of how his original haircut looked better — and a small part of you has grown fond of this look too. His warm skin, and his sparkly eyes when he looks up at you, the bright, loving smile that he displays before getting out of your lap, kissing you on your lips to break you out of your focus.

The action only makes you more shy, and Jeongin laughs, cooing at your behavior before standing up, dusting his clothes off the dirt and extending his hand for you.

“Lend me a hand, will you?”

The line seems vaguely familiar and you’re overcome with a sense of deja vu, but nonetheless, you give him your hand, standing up before picking up your satchel and handing him his own.

“Now are you gonna pick a rose for me or do I have to do it myself again?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow and smirks, and you frown, slapping his arm before walking off to check all the flowers in their bushes.

“Hey, wait for me! Y/N!”

When he reaches you, he slides a hand into your own, interlacing the fingers before looking at you lovingly.

“I love you.” You both say at the same time, giggling at each other soon after — perhaps at how well you knew each other to time the confession so well.

So, this is how it ends. While you do think that things could’ve been handled differently, you’re glad that everything went the way it went, because in the end, you’d found him, he’d found you, you’d discovered your feelings together. You loved each other.

Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid.

but what if she had never recovered?

taglist: @inkidz​ @stayverse​ @districtninewriters​ @kpopscape​ @skzwritersclub​ + @sunoo-luvs​ @sleepylixie​ @rae-blogging​ @happiestgirlontheeastcoast @guerillrah​ @p2q3r4​ @baby-innie​ (Please send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist!) *oh holy lord pls let this show up in the tags*

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #30 - The Cybertronian Judicial System is a Friggin’ Joke

Have I mentioned that I’m not a huge fan of court case stories? I think they’re pretty boring, on average, so the last couple of issues have been slightly dragging for me.

Anyway, back to Megatron’s trial. 

Our issue opens up with a full back shot of Ultra Magnus.

Artists take note, he really is built like a capital T.

As Magnus reads out Megatron’s statement retracting his “guilty” plea, we get some decent points as to why. See, telling a guy that you’ll stab him in the brain, so his trial can be over as quickly as possible, maybe isn’t such a hot idea. Megatron wasn’t a huge fan of that, or of how those memories they would’ve yanked outta him would have been used to fuel the Autobot propaganda machine. Why, you may ask?

Well, I don’t know if you knew this or not, but Megatron… doesn’t particularly care for the Autobots, nor the rhetoric they uphold.

I know, I was surprised too!

There’s also the fact that Optimus Prime is the judge on this whole thing. You know. Optimus Prime. Off and on leader of the Autobots, whenever it suits him. The guy who fucked off into space for a year after the war. The guy who threw a hissy fit when someone pointed out that he was compromised the last time they did something like this with Megatron. This guy:

Yeah, there might be a slight conflict of interests here. Remind me again why this had to be a military trial?

Anyway, enough of that, it’s time for a fight scene.

A swarm of Decepticons storm the arena, going after Megatron so they can help him escape. Magnus, though acting as Megatron’s defense, cannot abide by this disorder in the court.

Wild to think there’s a tiny little Pringles man with anxiety in there, isn’t it?

Optimus joins the fray, because there really are, just, so many guys to deal with here. A dude goes to collect Megatron, stating that they brought teleport packs for this little shindig. Megatron isn’t super jazzed about that though, not bothering to grab on before the dude gets shot to death. There’s a brief recess, I guess so the janitorial staff can deal with the mess of corpses littering the courtroom.

Meanwhile, in the present day, Rung’s building a model spaceship in Swerve’s, which is a very brave thing to be doing, seeing how sticky and gross bars can be. Brainstorm’s brought a flask to the bar, and proceeds to pour the contents into a funnel sticking out of his arm.

Our bartender for the evening- I’m assuming it’s evening, but I doubt the concept of time has any real weight in space- is Bluestreak. Bluestreak was stationed on Earth for a while, which is some Phase One stuff, and took a liking to human media while he was there. He’s the guy who handles movie night these days, seeing as Rewind’s too busy being dead to do it, and I doubt Chromedome has the emotional bandwidth to take over for his late spouse.

Bluestreak’s favorite movie is Zulu, a film glorifying the colonialism of the English over the native populace of an African kingdom. Make of that what you will.

Whirl wants to watch À Bout de Soufflé, or Breathless, as it was translated for the English-speaking world, which is a French New Wave film about a criminal who shoots a cop, hides from the police in a journalist’s home, who he seduces and likely impregnates. She eventually finds out what he did, reports him to the police, but then has a change of heart and lets him know what she’s done. He runs, but is shot, and dies in the street. The film is notable for its final scene, in which the following dialogue happens, between the dying criminal Michael, his lover Patricia, and an officer.

Of course, any poignancy would almost certainly be lost on the average comic book reader, and is also somewhat nullified by Whirl praising the film with internet lingo.

Then again, I suppose Whirl would be the type to dismantle any deeper reading of his interest in such a film, lest he be subjected to the horrifying ordeal of being known.

Over with Skids and Riptide, it’s revealed that Megatron’s been teaching classes on the Lost Light, specifically on the Knights of Cybertron. Riptide’s getting an education, because he’s been feeling pretty lost since the war ended- we’ll get to the potential whys of that later on. Swerve isn’t a fan of this community college thing that’s going on, stating that Megatron’s using it as a distraction, so he can devise plots most foul.

Back in the past, Autobot high command is having a talk about what Megatron’s demanding, and man is it a doozy— turns out, since the trial’s happening on Luna 2, the trial proceedings are subject to the laws of the moon. One of these moon laws is the right to request being judged by the Knights of Cybertron. Now, this is a problem, seeing as the Knights of Cybertron have been AWOL for the last several million years, but the law is the law, and you can’t just go ignoring it when someone’s pointed it out.

Bro, your SIC just suggested y’all pull the trial so you could slap it on Cybertron, thus negating any need to pay attention to the Knight law. That’s such a gross miscarrying of justice, it’s genuinely baffling. You’ve got bigger issues going on than flouting. My god, Optimus, you were a cop—

Oh wait, that’s right. Carry on, then.

Back on the Lost Light, First Aid’s checking to make sure that the coffin Rodimus they revealed last issue is true and proper dead. Now, this may seem like a given, but you’ve got to remember that Brainstorm was mostly dead for over a year and a half, and nobody fucking noticed, so it’s probably for the best that they’re checking.

First Aid’s been pretty withdrawn since Ambulon died, so this autopsy is really good for him, since it got him out of his room. Pretty fucked up that it would take a dead body to get him out and about. Has Rung checked in on his poor son of a gun, or has he been spending the last six months getting his professional rocks off psychoanalyzing a genocidal warlord?

Our coffin Rodimus died from having parts of his brain removed, and potentially died screaming.

Yes, that is a Furmanism, thank you peanut gallery, moving on—

Ratchet hands the phone over to Ultra Magnus, saying that a call has to be made, and it can’t be by him, because the callee is mighty upset with Ratchet at the moment.

Oh, I guess he’s fine after all. This must be where the sci-fi bullshit really starts kicking in for the series.

Because seeing your own dead body is likely very traumatic and awful, Rodimus is taking a while to string together his thoughts on the matter. Megatron doesn’t particularly care, because he’s not terribly sympathetic to this sort of thing, and the two get into a spat, where it’s revealed that they’re co-captaining the Lost Light.

Because things weren’t chaotic enough on this fucking ship. Need to mix in some peacocking between the McDonalds twunk and the man who killed half of Beijing.

Back in the past, Optimus Prime visited Megatron in prison to have a little chat. It’s not about that little rescue attempt, though the fact that those Decepticons may have been released from the Lost Light’s brig is certainly interesting. No, Optimus is here to sit way too close to his mortal nemesis on the floor of his room and talk about how Megatron is a sneaky bastard.

You remember the Hellraiser puzzle box from a couple issues back? Yeah, that was a communicube, one that was passed to Optimus to suggest that the trial be held on the moon, so the arena there would be able to hold all the people wronged by Megatron. This seems pretty damn convenient in hindsight, but Megatron swears that the legal loophole wasn’t his only intent when he sent the cube.

Because it’s all about you, isn’t it, Megatron? It’s all about how you’re perceived by future generations. Fuck the guys who had to actually deal with what your personal choices caused to happen.

Megatron wants to make amends with all those who were wronged by him. This doesn’t include being acquitted of his crimes, which, y’know, good- at least he’s being slightly realistic about how this is going to turn out for him.

What he wants to do is find Cyberutopia, so the Cybertronians have a replacement planet, since Cybertron kind of sucks now.

Oh, sorry, did I say realistic? I take it back.

In the present, Rodimus is still bummed out about being dead. Still, the day doesn’t stop just because it’s a bad one, and he calls in the experts.

CHROMEDOME YOU PROMISED TO STOP THIS SHIT

Yeah, no, Chromedome’s fallen off the wagon again, and does his thing on the coffin Rodimus. As he does, Megatron suddenly gets squeamish, Brainstorm pulls out his early early-warning device to lean on the fourth wall, and it’s revealed that the coffin that coffin Rodimus was in was built in the fashion of the Spectralist faith.

All Chromedome can suss out of coffin Rodimus’ memories is the really big important stuff, which includes the speech at Rivet’s Field inviting folks to come join the Knight Quest. Aww, that’s sweet.

With the analysis of the innermost energon complete, the results are in— the coffin Rodimus is a Rodimus. A real one, from the near future. Bummer.

I suppose denial is one of the seven stages of grief, isn’t it?

As everyone argues over whether or not Rodimus is going to die, Nightbeat brings up a good point— there aren’t any numbers carved into the coffin Rodimus’ hand. Rodimus is about to reveal some Ratchet-original wisdom, when things start getting really weird; whole sections of the Lost Light are disappearing.

Over at Swerve’s, Tailgate is regaling his peers with the story of his derring-do against Chief Justice Tyrest. Everyone is very impressed, and this includes our good buddy Getaway.

Jeez, think you’ve got enough antagonist shadows on this guy? It’s almost as if the art’s trying to tell us something about him.

Getaway lays it on real thick, saying that Tailgate could totally be the next Prime, with how courageous and awesome he is, all while completely ignoring Tailgate’s personal space and having a weirdly tiny hand. This seems to seriously bother Cyclonus, who is watching this shit go down from the doorway. Our purple space jet leaves once the drinks start being poured and conversation starts happening. God knows he hates talking about his insecurities.

Then the Pipes is Friggin’ Dead alarm goes off. But Pipes has been dead for a while now, so that must mean something else awful is happening.

Back during the trial, I guess because Optimus has a soft spot for Megatron, he allows him to join the Lost Light’s Knight Quest… even as he says that he could keep the guy locked up until Rodimus and pals find the Knights. However, there are rules to this, and one of the rules is that Megatron must publicly denounce the Decepticon cause.

It is a slow and painful experience for everyone involved, as he reads the statement he was given. It’s an immediate call to action- or rather, inaction.

Geez, think they could’ve made it any more obvious that this was being ghostwritten? I can’t wait to see how long it takes for “Megatron was blackmailed into saying this by the Autobots” to be a plotpoint.

Outside the prison, Ratchet and Rodimus are taking in the brand new Rod Pod, which is genuinely ridiculous in how large it is. Rodimus admits to having taken Atomizer’s list, though he knows that trying to use it to keep those who voted him off would be a pretty shitty thing to do.

Also, no one’s told him about Megatron coming along on the trip. As captain.

Or you could, I dunno, lock him up from the start. Or, if you want to give him a chance to prove himself, slap him into a bottom-rung role, like bilge cleaner, or sewage mucker, or whatever the equivalent would be on a spaceship full of giant gay robots. We don’t have to give the guy any power to hold him to scrutiny— any minimum wage worker will tell you that scrutiny comes far harsher for those who actually carry out orders than those who give them.

But what do I know? I’ve never fought in a several million year war, and I don’t plan to.

Getting back to the list, it seems as if Ratchet and Rodimus are on the same wavelength, in that both agree it’s only going to cause trouble and hurt feelings to keep the thing around. Rodimus destroys it with his usual flare, only to be blindsided by the fact that it was fake this entire time. How does Ratchet know this?

Because his name wasn’t on it.

...Man, that’s gotta sting. No wonder Rodimus was upset enough to not take his calls.

In the present, everyone’s in a panic, as they all bolt for the shuttle bay and start pouring into shuttles. The Lost Light is disintegrating around them, which is sort of a problem. Despite this nightmare scenario happening, Rodimus and Megatron still find the time to be assholes to each other. That’s dedication right there.

As the two bicker, multiple shuttles zip away from the rapidly disappearing ship, including the Rod Pod.

Man, now it really is the Lost Light.

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Andy on Asian Animation or SYAC: The Master Review 2

Let’s talk a bit about anime and Dobson’s work relation with it.

I think we can all agree, that starting from the late 90s and early 2000s on, anime and manga became extremely popular in the western world. Sure, Japanese animation was nothing completely new to us (Speed Racer, Nadia-Secret of Blue Water, Samurai Pizza Cats, Sailor Moon, Kimba and Akira e.g. come to my mind as properties already known in the west before 1995) but it really was around this time that thanks to “mainstream” stuff like Dragon Ball and Pokemon people became aware of how different Japanese animation was from western. Eventually resulting in the really good shit (like Cowboy Bebop, Black Lagoon, Kenshin and Heat Guy J) coming over and enriching nerd culture for more than just a few people who knew of it as an obscurity at that point. Now, if you know anything about Dobson, you likely know that his relationship with anime is rather… complicated to say the least. Or, to let him explain it with his own words…

Dobson essentially likes silly and wacky 90s anime. But later on he hated anime in general, because it got too popular and a bad experience with an anime club in college soured his enjoyment of it. Furthermore, he put the blame on his lackluster art style and storytelling capabilities as seen in the likes of Formera, Patty and Alex ze Pirate, on anime in general, while also claiming that Disney pulling the plug on 2D animation is the result of the “anime inspired” Treasure Planet, meaning anime in a sense deprived him of his chance at working at his dream job and “ruining” western animation.

Which to me has always been ignorant as fuck. For starters, I can understand not liking certain stories or genres, either for objective or subjective reasons. But to hate on an entire nation’s form of entertainment (not just individual shows or genres), depriving yourself of the chance of potentially watching a lot of good stuff while also being rather insulting to these other works and people enjoying them? Especially when the stuff you can supposedly “stomach” has been rather simplistic compared to other things?

 Second, blaming Japan for “poisoning” your art style? What, did the ghost of Osamu Tezuka possess you and FORCE you to put sweatdrops on your characters forehead while also going for the rather simplistic character style of Rumiko Takahashi, as well as emulating the slapstick of the likes as Slayers and Ranma ½?

 Next, if he had emulated them successfully, I say he would have actually managed to tell decent enough stories worth to read online. Not create Uncle Peggy aka “Discount Happosai” or the bland proto-Isekai known as Formera.

I mean, let’s give some context here: There have been people who successfully managed to emulate certain anime and manga aesthetics into western animation and make it work. Otherwise we wouldn’t have gotten the likes of Avatar-The last Airbender, Samurai Jack, the Animatrix, Thundercats 2011, Super Robot Monkey Hyperforce Go, Kim Possible, W.I.T.C.H, Megas XLR and Wakfu. You know, shows that are actually awesome as hell.

Heck, Dobson’s favorite animated show of the last decade, Steven Universe, is heavily inspired by anime aesthetics to the point of being embarrassing.

 But Dobson… well, he emulated anime aesthetics in his work the same way as these crimes against animation did.

Combined with his general shortcomings as a storyteller it is no wonder his initial comics did not do well.

 Lastly, and sorry for digressing here a bit, but if the Wikipedia entry on Treasure Planet is something to go by, there was no real inspiration by anime involved in making this movie.

Supposedly the idea of making an animated Treasure Planet in outer space movie was already pitched by Ron Clements WAY BACK in 1985 but only came to be after Michael Eisner greenlighted stuff in the late 90s. Design wise the movie was supposed to look 70% traditional and 30% sci-fi inspired and people took inspiration for the art style by illustrators associated with the Brandywine School of Illustration. A western style of illustration established in the 19th century, that had a big impact on the illustration styles for many 19th and early 20th century adventure novels and short stories.

What, is anime supposed to be the only form of animation allowed to have sci fi elements or steampunk in it? Fucks sake, The Lion King and Atlantis, which came out one year earlier to Treasure Planet, were likely more inspired by anime. Don’t believe me? Watch Atlantis and then a certain anime by Studio Gainax called “Nadia-Secret of Blue Water”. Or read up on the controversy surrounding the two.

The truth is, it is not entirely clear what caused Disney to shut down 2D feature film animation in the early 2000s. In fact, if anything, most people put the blame on Michael Eisner and a certain change in the publics taste in movies in general, combined with Disney trying to turn almost every movie they had into a franchise via cheap follow up movies on video and DVD.

And even if Disney did not shut down, are we really supposed to believe that a certain guy with fedora would have made it big at Disney to the point Alex ze Pirate would have been made into a feature film?

But Dobson could never quite understand this and instead of “reinventing” himself properly, he would rant about anime and its fans in one form or another…

 And on the peak of his hissy fit create this little art piece he baptized Anime Sux. Alternatively “West vs East”. Or as I like to call it, slap a jap.

Now, the pic was done in 2008 and Dobson claimed sometimes in the last decade, that he no longer holds his old opinions. Unfortunately, by that point he would also more or less use the chance to vent in his webcomic about anime (or rather its fans), which brings us finally back to SYAC.

 While Dobson never outright thematized in more detail WHY he hates anime and manga in SYAC (likely cause if his comic reasoning was even slightly like his reasoning in his blogs, people would have torn him apart like a bag of paper) he did use the format to punch down on anime fans and their preferences.

 For example, for someone who has a 4chan story going around of having been rather arrogant towards others in college for not liking Ranma ½, Dobson has THIS little college related comic to show off, where he portrays an aspiring manga artist as a delusional jackass.

Then in this strip titled manga, his manga fan is essentially portrayed as a young woman dressing up like a very stereotypical high school anime girl, who is in the wrong for even just DARING to draw her comics in the direction manga are read.

On one hand, I get Dobson’s point. She could be at risk of alienating a market of readers as she is obviously drawing for a western audience. Then again, if she doesn’t draw a traditional western comic but a manga, why shouldn’t she? I mean, as long as she enjoys it, which I assume she does as she seems genuinely just happy when stating that she likes manga, why not let her? Plus, this comic was drawn in the late 2000s. I think by then most people kinda knew how to read from right to left, so Dobson’s claim she would alienate or confuse people is kinda redundant. If anything I find a) Dobson getting angry at her just very petty (just let her have fun) and b) portraying a western manga fan as someone who would be confused by the sheer idea of reading stuff from right to left is also in itself just really dumb and insulting. What is Dobson trying to imply? That anime fans are so stuck in the way they consume certain media, they can’t act according to “western standards” again?

Then there is this strip where yet another female anime fan is essentially portrayed as the embodiment of how “ignorant” manga fans are of the idea of different art styles...

Which becomes rather laughable once Dobson describes his style as a mixture of European, American and  Japanese. Why? Because he is the one oversimplifying things, rather than the anime fan.

You see while anime and manga of all sorts do share certain aesthetics (like the black and white art style, emphasize on the eyes of characters, the way hair is drawn, recurring tropes within certain genres and so on) style wise (both in art and storytelling) there can be severe differences, depending on the artist alone. Akira Toriyama’s style differentiates significantly from the likes of Eichiro Oda, Rumiko Takahashi, Kentaro Miura, Tezuka, Kaori Yuki and so forth.

The same also goes for many western artists. Herge had a significantly different style from Uderzo and Goscinny. Don Rosa has a different style in which he drew Scrooge McDuck than Carl Barks did. Rob Liefeld and Jim Lee draw mainstream superheroes differently compared to how Jack Kirby, George Perez and others did. Heck, Ethan Van Sciver and Jim Lee were closely associated with Green Lantern in the 2000s and look how they differentiate.

 Which btw is the kind of skill level Dobson would have needed to have, to make it in the mainstream industry

So when Dobson says “I draw in a combination of American, Western and Japanese” all I can think is the following: THAT DOESN’T NARROW IT DOWN! WHAT THE HECK HAVE YOU LEARNT IN COLLEGE ABOUT COMICS? WHICH ARTISTS, WORKS AND STORYTELLERS DO YOU TRY TO EITHER EMULATE OR HAVE BEEN INSPIRED BY?

Then there is this little thing…

Where do I even begin? How about the fact that Dobson’s hand in the last panel looks like he has lost a thumb? The fact that the little boy, anime fan or not, is aware of Sae Sawanoguchi, a character from a short lived OVA and anime series from the 90s, which considering his age, I kinda doubt he would be aware off. Unlike Dobson, who got into anime in the 90s and admits in fact within the posts I loaded up earlier, that he had watched the anime in particular, known in the west as Magic User Club.

Then there is the implication by Dobson, that anime is so “corruptive” as a medium, little kids don’t even know the most basic characters in western animation because of it. I expect in a next panel, that all of sudden some 50s PSA guy comes along and lectures me that if I want this kind of thing not to happen at MY convention, I need to teach little kids more about the GOOD western animation, instead of the BAD eastern one. Then there is this rather unflattering portrayal of a shonen ai/shojou ai fangirl…

 Which makes me laugh cause honestly, even some of the worst shonen ai and shojou ai can do better in portraying a “realistic” gay relationship than Patty if you ask me.

Also, as much as I think fangirls can be extremely thirsty (I have read my fair share of extremely stupid yaoi and yuri fanfics) I think that in hindsight Dobson is really not anyone to complain about shipping obsession and sex when he himself has KorraSami, the Ladybug fandom and a certain rat pirate under his floppy belt.

As you can imagine, Dobson would get heat for those comics, considering how he himself has been greatly inspired by anime and manga for his major comics. And while I don’t have any explicit deviantart posts of him reacting to criticism in that regard, I do have this comic which addresses it directly.

 And yeah, if I were schoolgirl number 4, I would just sigh and walk away after telling Dobson that his mistakes and shortcomings are not related to having consumed anime, but rather by what sort of anime (and other stories) he had consumed and the amount of effort he had put in creating his stories instead of emulating just something more popular. Plus, if you really want people to draw more from life, how about drawing more from life yourself down the line? And no, tracing Star Wars movie frames does not count.

Finally, Dobson, considering how very little most people think of your work, I say mission accomplished: People have learnt from your mistakes and know not to be a Dobson.

And at last, there is this comic, which kinda wraps up Dobson’s “vendetta” with anime and manga fans within the pages of SYAC.

By trying to mock anime fans and make them look just as shallow as he is. I at least suppose. Honestly, the message of this comic is rather muddled. On one hand, I would say the strawman accusing Dobson hates anime just because it is popular is very simplified. After all, Dobson has made his reasons for not liking anime clear in a few more details. It’s just that the details in and on themselves in real life are still rather shallow and boil down to a lot of personal bias rather than an objective criticism of actual flaws. Which I think is worth pointing out.

But frankly, what is Dobson trying to say or point out here? That the strawman is not so different or even dumber than him, because he hates Justin Bieber for “shallow” and superficial reasons too?

Okay, this doesn’t quite work as well as Dobson wants. First, the argument Dobson’s strawman makes is in huge parts based on some verified statements Dobson made for not liking anime. Second, he just says a name and that triggers the guy to express his hatred for Bieber. We don’t know why the guy hates Bieber and you could make in fact the case, that he hates him not because he is popular, but because he has a genuine issue with the artist, his work or his behavior as a human being. Third, if you want to make yourself look like the better person Dobson, try to argue with the guy and make solid arguments why you don’t like anime. Instead you just deflect the criticism by changing the subject and then try to make yourself look like the “smarter” person in the room by mocking your critic in the most condescending manner.

Which as I think about it, sounds like your modus operandi on twitter and tumblr.

Weirdly enough, that more or less marks the “end” of Dobson tackling anime fans and the beef he has with them within the pages of SYAC. Despite how much Dobson’s negative reputation especially in early years was build around him hating on anime and belittling its fans, he didn’t really do more afterwards in the Dobson focused pages of SYAC. And mind you, those strips were also separated by other strips in-between, focused on Dobson just being at conventions.

Unfortunately for him, the strips didn’t really help in any way to diminish that negative reputation and instead just confirmed for many, that Dobson can’t handle criticism about his flawed opinion on anime. If anything, it just made people think even less of Dobson, as the strips just painted him as someone who would rather portray his critics as strawman he can be “rightfully” annoyed at, instead of fellow humans with slightly different tastes in entertainment, who are still worth listening to.

So, now that we have the anime fan related “annoyances” out of the way, what other sort of silly problems in making webcomics would Dobson cover in his strips and are “relatable” to everyone?

Lets see some of these examples in the next part.

[henlex]

hi!!!! would you be able to do a personality type description for me? i have an aries sun, pisces moon, pisces mercury, aquarius venus, gemini mars + taurus rising! and if posible an enhypen or p1h match based off my chart?

thank you in advance! dw if you cant though ❤️❤️❤️

Uwu of course!!

You're such an open minded person omg💖

Taurus rising: earth. Very calm, steady vibe. You probably have a pretty calm and collected appearance even you dont feel that way. Very protective and loyal. They care a lot about comfort. Your appearance is probably based more on comfort than anything else.

Aries sun: Fire. Very driven, fast paced, determined. They tend to make quick decisions and act on them. They tend to have a childlike quality to them, fun-loving and optimistic. Naturally athletic or at least need to keep their body moving. They tend to be pretty bold, go getter types. They give everything one thousand percent.

Pisces Moon: uwu, this is my favorite. Very sweet, super soft, but very emotional. Incredibly empathetic, they have a knack for knowing others without them having to say anything. Like you can see past their barriers and people want to open up to you. But pisces are also very dreamy and whimsical, with their heads in the clouds. Have a propensity to lose things. But they can be optimistic to a fault almost, always seeing the best in others. Also artistically inclined.

Pisces merc: more water. Very gentle communication. Very intuitive, they tend to take in the emotions of everyone around them. This is how they take in info and it can be very unique. They're great listeners and talkers but it's hard to know which mood they're going to be in because it changes frequently. They're vague and hard to pin down because they're so open minded and changeable. They never get stuck in one mindset.

Aquarius venus: air. Very unique and open-minded. They dont like to follow the beaten track. They're attracted to unconventional relationships. They hate any restrictions and might feel threatened. Live for them is more on an intellectual level. They want to be admired for their knowledge and ideas. They want their lovers to be their friend first. Not a big fan of emotional displays (that's not necessarily true with all your pisces)

Gemini mars: air. Constantly wanting change a change of pace. They have a restless energy. They always need something to do or they deflate. They're very good with their words. But mars is the planet of aggression so when they're angry words are their weapons. Or theyll just talk it through, but they Need to get everything off their chests. They love debates. They have a restless energy and they tend to channel it through their hands. Very adaptable, their interests are always changing.

So for Enhypen: Sunwoo. He's got water and fire in his big 3 like you. His moon is your sun which would be an easy understanding of each other. He has gem merc and venus which goes great with yours, you're both flexible and curious. Even your mars' because his just goes with the flow which yours would love.

P1h idkkk. I'm between Theo and Jiung (even tho jiung and keeho are basically the same, his Gemini moon gives him the upper hand)

Ok Theo. I think the others have too much air for your water.

Wait it's another cancer😂😂😂 anyway apparently that's a decent combo. Anyway I was thinking the double water would understand the emotional depth of you. And your pisces moon would instantly get through Theo's shy/ cold exterior. Anyway his gem mercury goes great with your merc. So his venus is taurus but that conjuncts your rising which is cute. And his sag mars really needs the freedom that you do too so it's kind of perfect. You'd probably have to let him leave and come back if you ever had a fight tho😂

Omg you could play sports (or something else) together 😭 this is so cute

Ok byyye I hope you like it!💖💕💖💕💖

[jlalafics]

Modern Au dabble where Everlark connect on the roof of one of their houses and then cute kiss leading into ya know? Thanks! You and your books are amazing! -Zeffie ♥️♥️

Hey love! Thanks for this amazing prompt. I hope you wanted this ficlet with a good amount of spice...

Enjoy @hungergamesfangirl02 (Zeffie)!

_____

The moment she steps onto the roof, Peeta spots her.

She is circling the space with her roommates; the sharp-tongued woman with blunt bangs and crimson lowlights and the blue-eyed blonde wearing a crown of flowers. His roommate, Gale, had a one-night thing with the blonde. Peeta can still remember the muttered moaning of her name through the thin walls of their apartment: Madge…Madge…Madge…

Peeta drinks from his red cup, trying to quietly observe the girl in the middle. She’s wearing a cropped jean jacket and a shift burgundy dress with embroidered straps. The ankle boots lengthen her rich-colored legs and he wonders, albeit briefly, what he would see if a sudden gust of wind were to sweep through.

However, it’s summer in the city.

Balmy and warm, the sun just going down and it’s practically another day.

“Peeta!” He turns, spotting Finnick, his other roommate, and Annie, Finnick’s girlfriend. It’s his friend’s birthday and a possible engagement party. Annie doesn’t know, but Peeta and Finnick just picked up the ring from the jeweler this afternoon. “Why are you hiding in the corner?”

“You know that I’m not the party type,” he tells them with a smile. Peeta eyes his friend. “So…anything interesting going on?”

“Not quite,” Finnick responds, throwing an arm around Annie’s shoulders. “Maybe a little later.”

Peeta nods, trying to suppress his smile. It’s not often that his friend is uncertain; he’s known Finnick since they were in diapers and his bronze-haired friend has always moved forward, unafraid of what was ahead of him.

However, when it comes to Annie, the man is total mush.

“You need to circulate,” Annie tells him, her green eyes full of kind concern. “It’s been a year since Delly.”

“Who’s Delly?” comes a brash voice.

They all turn to find the woman with red hair standing before them.

And, right next to her is—

“Katniss!” Annie is rushing towards the pretty girl to give her a hug. Then she goes to Miss Blunt Bangs, embracing her as well. “Johanna!”

They all pull apart and Annie introduces them to Finnick and Peeta.

“I’ve seen you before on campus,” Finnick says to Katniss—Peeta is already in love just hearing her name. “You’re a voice major, right?”

Katniss nods. “Yup, but more song writing and composition than singing.”

“Well, you should talk to Peeta here.” Finnick waves at hand at him, clover eyes sparkling. He knows Peeta well enough to identify when he’s interested in something…or someone. “He’s exceptionally talented when it comes to playing. I don’t think there’s an instrument that he hasn’t experimented with.”

Katniss turns, grey almond-eyes on him. “I’ve seen you around before.”

“I don’t go to Juilliard,” Peeta stammers out.

“No!” She grins and he finds himself smiling back at the way her face completely blooms with loveliness. “I’ve seen you sitting on this roof. You play out here sometimes.”

“Yeah, Katniss has been mini-spying on you,” Johanna informs him.

“Really?” He eyes her and Katniss’ cheeks color—geez, now she’s even more gorgeous. “I’m flattered.”

“I actually live over there—” Katniss points to the adjacent building. It’s at few floors higher, but just enough for someone to look over and see clearly onto their roof. “—sometimes I go up to write or to look at the stars.”

“Don’t lie to the man,” her friend retorts, earning a glare. “At least tell him that you’re a little hot for him holding a guitar.”

“Johanna—” Annie thankfully interrupts. “Thresh has been looking for you.”

“I gave him a blowjob last month and he’s been hitting me up ever since,” she replies. Looking over at Katniss, Johanna winks. “Have fun with your mystery man.”

The two girls walk off, leaving Finnick, Peeta, and Katniss standing together.

“Oh!” Finnick looks around. “I think I better make sure that we still have enough ice and prepare for my birthday speech.” He pats Peeta on the back. “Have fun.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen a more obvious setup,” Katniss tells him when they’re finally alone.

“They mean well,” Peeta replies. “At least, Annie and Finnick do. Johanna is a bit of a mystery.” He looks over to the bar. “Did you want a drink?”

“Sure.” They head to the bar; Peeta tries to keep cool as Katniss joins his side. Their hands are a muscle movement away from touching and he stiffens his hand. “I’d love a Corona and lime.”

“Very summer of you,” he replies before requesting it from the bartender. “How do you know Annie?”

The bartender places the tall neck bottle, placing the lime wedge at the opening, before handing it to Katniss.

They find their way to a spot at the far corner of the party and settle down together on a lone bench. Finnick is talking to the DJ and he sees Annie talking to Madge, whose arm is around Gale’s waist. Johanna has found Thresh and they are dancing, both decently tearing up the floor.

It’s the perfect summer night.

“She works with Johanna,” Katniss explains. “I think they’re EAs for the two CEOs, so they’re always working together. I’ve known Johanna my whole life. When I found out I got into Juilliard, I didn’t hesitate to ask her to come with me. She didn’t hesitate to say yes. Her home life was less than ideal.”

“That sucks.” Real smooth, idiot. His tongue is so tied around her, but Peeta takes a breath and searches for another topic. “How about you? What’s your family life like?”

“I have one sister. Sweetest girl you’ll ever know.” Her smile goes soft and sad, lost in thought. “My Dad passed away when I was five.”

“I’m sorry.”

His hand goes unconsciously to hers resting between them. Peeta motions to pull away, but her fingers entwine with his.

Their eyes meet, silently agreeing that it feels right.

“It’s fine. He was sick for a long time,” Katniss explains. “When I was 12, my mom met Haymitch and we all kind of loved him from the start. They got married when I was 13 and have been thoroughly happy ever since.” She moves closer. “And you? Tell me about your family.”

“My Dad’s a businessman,” he starts. “Have you heard of Mellark Bakery?”

“Yeah, they have that huge factory across the bridge,” Katniss replies. “Your Dad work there?”

Peeta holds out his free hand, wondering if he should have open this can of worms. However, if this is going anywhere (is it too early to propose?), he should probably tell her about his family.

“Nice to meet you. Peeta Mellark.”

Katniss let out a laugh, putting down her Corona to shake his hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was meeting with a son of industry!”

“My Dad is actually pretty cool,” he tells her. “He’s always been very encouraging and supportive of me and my older brothers, Emmett and Noel. Emmett is an artist and Noel is a chef.”

“And your mother?”

“Pretty opposite.” Katniss squeezes his hand, listening intently. “She’s a society woman. Very beautiful, but very cold.”

“Oh, she is going to hate me,” Katniss replies.

Peeta grins at her words. “Already planning to meet the parents?”

“Of course. We’ve connected, you know?” she proclaims. “Now that I’ve seen you up close, there’s no going back.”

“And your family?” he counters. “Would they like me?”

“They’re going to love you,” she says, her grey eyes on him. “You seem so easy to care for.”

Peeta looks at his feet, overcome by her words. “How do you know?”

“Last month, I was coming home from school and you were walking out of your building. There was a little old woman coming out of her taxi and she seemed to be struggling to even open the door. So, you opened the door for her, and you helped her set up her walker on the sidewalk. Then, you paid for her cab and helped her inside your building. Nobody does shit like that anymore. Everyone always seems to be looking out for themselves, nowadays.”

“Mags has lived here the longest, so she’s kind of building royalty,” Peeta explains. “Also, her husband died a while back and she has no kids. The people in this building are her family and we take care of one another.”

“I like that,” Katniss tells him.

“I like you,” he blurts out. “I mean, if it hasn’t been obvious enough.”

Katniss doesn’t respond, but she shifts a little bit closer to him as she stares into his eyes.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Peeta is intrigued by her abruptness. “What did you have in mind?”

She pulls him by his hand to stand up. He rises and their chests brush against one another. It is brief, but it is enough to light a fire in his belly at the feel of peaked nipples against his thin flannel button-down.

“We’re going stargazing.”

++++++

“For some reason, Johanna has a deal with the maintenance crew in the building,” Katniss recounts as they step onto the roof of her apartment complex. “No one else but myself, Johanna, and Madge are allowed up here.” She leads him over to a set of lounge chairs. “I don’t really know what kind of deal she cut, and I’ve never bothered to ask.”

“That’s probably for the best,” he tells her. “Are you allowed to bring people up here?”

“I’m pretty sure that Johanna and Madge have brought guys up here before.” Katniss turns to him, her eyes glowing under the light of the moon. “You are the only person that I’ve ever brought here…the only person I want to bring here.”

Peeta isn’t sure if it is the moon…or the Corona…or the heat of the night…but something dances inside his chest, telling him to go to her. Her eyes are on him, hunger so intense in them that there is nothing he could do but go to her. Katniss follows suit, marching towards him with determination.

A groan escapes her lips at the feel of him hard against her pelvis. “Peeta, please…”

They meet in the middle of the roof, breaths heavy and Katniss reaches to cup his cheek. His arm rounds her slender waist, pulling her close to let her feel what she does to him.

“What would you like?” he asks, voice roughened with need. His free hand moves along the lines of her body and she whines, pressing closer to him. “Tell me what you want, Katniss.”

“I want you to kiss me.” Katniss’ mouth grazes against him and he nearly crumbles at the feel of heat between her legs. “Then, I want you to fuck me until we both see stars.”

His mouth is on hers, slotting them together. He sucks harshly at her upper lip as her hands reach for him, holding his face in place as she bites at his lower lip. They both moan into one another, tasting lime and alcohol and the fire between them.

Katniss moves them towards one of the chairs, her hands traveling down and reaching to the buttons of his shirt as her tongue sweeps into his mouth. His own hands move to yank at her jean jacket until she shrugs it off.

“Touch me, Peeta,” she says into his mouth. His shirt has been tossed to the ground and her hands roam unabashedly against his heated skin.

Peeta reaches for the hem of her dress and Katniss complies, lifting her arms up so he could pull the dress over her head. Once it is off, he steps back and looks at the beautiful woman under the summer moon.

Every inch of her skin is caramel and Peeta licks his lips ravenously as his eyes rove over lush breasts with rosy nipples…the graceful dip of her waist…full hips…and nude mesh panties that cover a thatch of dark hair.

“You are beautiful,” he rasps.

Katniss slowly sits down on the lounger, resting back. Her chest heaves, nipples pointed in the warm air, as she waits expectantly for him.

Peeta kneels before her. Carefully, he takes her boots and places them next to the lounger. Then, he is at her center, mouthing her through the mesh and sampling the honey pleasure of her core. Her hands go to his hair, fingers running through his hair and nails scratching at his scalp as he sucks and tongues her through the scrap of nothing.

“Fuck! Peeta!” Her wails are like gold and he moans, vibrating against her cunt. “More, please!” He moves the scrap of cloth away from her quim and plunges his tongue inside her. “Oh my God!”

Part of him is thankful for the party next door, the vibration of music sheathing her cries in the air. Peeta loves the sound of her, unabashed in showing him how good she feels. Katniss pushes herself against his tongue, legs wrapping around his head as she humps his face.

He is drenched in her; his new favorite drink for a summer’s night.

Peeta’s hands move to his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them quickly.

Pulling away, Katniss whines at the motion until she sees his pants undone. Her eyes, already smoky, have gone obsidian at the sight and he pushes his briefs down, his erection jutting out.

She sits up, one hand pressed to the seat as the other reaches to his length, wrapping her fingers around him. Her thumb moves to the mushroomed head, spreading the precum and he almost seizes at the sensation.

“You’ve given me what I want,” she tells him, her hand stroking him slowly. “What do you want?”

“I want to show you the stars,” Peeta replies, his hand reaching to her panties and she lifts her hips, letting him slide them off until it joins their pile of discarded clothing. He stands before her, reaching for the waist of his jeans and boxers before pulling them off in one motion. His shoes and socks followed, joining her boots.

He stands before her, naked and obviously wanting.

Katniss lays back, pushing herself up onto her elbows, admiring the sight before her.

“I did watch you from here,” she says, her voice strained. “You’d fiddle with your guitar and I’d fiddle myself.”

The image of Katniss, hands on herself…fingers dipping into that dripping cunt is just too much.

Peeta falls to his knees, yanking her down until ass is at the edge of the chair, the backs of her legs pressing along his front.

Then, in one motion, he thrusts roughly into her sodden quim.

The moment Peeta slides into her, her whole body growls.

He can feel her contracting around him and he begins to move, savoring the feeling of being surrounded by her slick. Peeta leans down and their lips meet, her body practically folding in half so he can taste her.

Katniss moans into their kiss, tasting her essence against his tongue as they move against one another. The chair creaks under the pressure of their fucking and he can’t imagine that it feels very comfortable.

He attempts to lift her in-between thrusts, but Katniss frantically shakes her head.

“No, just like this,” she gasps into his sweaty skin. Her legs spread away to wrap around his waist. “Won’t be long now…”

She feels too good, silk and sopping around his cock. Her grip on him is the perfect pressure and as he thrusts, Katniss arches up, bottoming out.

“Holy fuck, you’re amazing,” he groans. “There is no way in hell that I’m letting you go now.”

Hell, Peeta is already convinced that this woman with the dark waves and smoky eyes is the woman that he’s going to marry. In his mind’s eye, he already imagines her in a white dress…carrying her over the threshold of her dream home…of fucking her against every wall of the house…of filling her to the brim until she’s swollen with his child.

“Don’t let me go,” Katniss cries out, her insides beginning to flutter around him, and he juts his cock shallowly knowing that he’s going to spill inside her at any moment. “I wanted you since the moment I saw you…fuck….oh…” Her muscles pulsate around him and her pelvis rises to meet his thrusts.

Her cries are swallowed into the starry sky above them and Peeta watches her in the beauty of her climax. Her hair flows behind her, her skin glistening, and she’s smiles up, her eyes full of love.

She’s watching him, jaw clenched, as the sky above is suddenly illuminated by fireworks, creating a halo around him.

Peeta comes undone, filling her, his pelvis pressing to hers until he is spent.

After, he lays, pillowed against her chest, her hand smoothing down his mussed hair.

“I see stars…” she whispers against him.

“Annie must have said yes,” he explains. “I picked up the ring with Finnick today.”

Katniss snorts. “When Finnick does something, he goes hard.”

“So do I,” he tells her.

She kisses the top of his head. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’ll see.”

They are married three months later.

 FIN.

[cant-think-of-a-username]

Hi!! I have never gotten this before so I thought it would be super cool to ask for one ahah

may i be matched to a haikyuu character? 🥺 thank you!! <3

Pronouns: she/her

Gender Preference: male

MBTI Type: I just took it for the 1000th time a few days ago and got INFP-T (but I would tend to also get ISFP dsfkjs)

Astrology Placements: Scorpio Sun, Pisces Moon, Gemini Rising, Sagittarius Venus, Pisces Mars (if it helps)

Physical Description: long straight black hair that reaches the middle of my back, dark brown eyes (that apparently makes me look like i have eyeliner sometimes) with long thick black eyelashes, light-medium neutral skin, 5'5", i apparently have long legs, thick thighs, cute butt (LMAO im just listing wut ppl have described of me too sdfkj), soft hands with quite long fingers, pretty basic body i would say sdfjhsd, and i apparently make things look expensive (i love fashion) i would say the best way to describe what i wear is probably (dark) academia but i like just wearing whatever i like--i don't like to limit myself to a certain aesthetic.

Personality Description: with new people/in first meeting, i tend to be quiet or generally don't speak much but once i warm up to you, im a really playful person or at least i really enjoy acting that way.

im honest but i should remember that my words can cut sometimes (rip), ive been described to be incredibly kind (sdfkh)... maybe because i tend to put so much energy and effort and time into other people or my relationships (friends, family, literally anyone that comes into contact with me for a decent amount of time)

i tend to act or do things according to how i feel but despite having that trait of mine or having that inclination, i can still very much be realistic. as i act according to how i feel, i have been described to act younger than my age and i doooo and i aint gonna deny it pfftt ima OWn That sHiT

i have no problem with acting like a child. i love rain, i love water, i love the ocean, i love cafes or the smell of coffee, i love the smell of fresh laundry and feeling the warm fabric (caused by drying in the sun or from a dryer lmfao) of whatever it may be (clothes, bedsheets) on my fingertips..

i love self development or just trying to be better and combined with me loving or liking a lot of different things, i try a lot of things--therefore not really becoming a master at anything dkjfhfsd. and because of that.. (i think) because i try a lot, putting quite a bit of effort into my.. goals (i have perfectionistic and overachieving tendencies) i guess.. when it fails (ofc) im incredibly disappointed, and become pretty... fucking sad hhh and when that happens.. i start to become more lazy/complacent 🤡

..bonus (if u wanna sprinkle some "angst" i guess LMAOO): i overthink a lot (so i start to have difficulty making smarter decisions or thinking of strategies to solve my problems + i still have a sprinkle of self-esteem issues of course... feeling incredibly incompetent is not foreign to me) so i could exaggerate my troubles or make a problem out of nothing 😶, im quite emotional, i have the "dismissive avoidant" attachment style, feeling hopeless quite often aint foreign to me either 😭

bonusbonus: (wow dont i love talking about myself? sdfknsd) i love corgis

Hobbies: dancing, witchcraft, astrology, divination, spirituality, reading fan fiction (LMAOOOO), reading visual novels/playing otome games, painting, drawing, looking into psychology in some type of manner, netflix, swimming, watching anime i guess, trying new things, learning something (new)

Ideal Date: tbh going to a concert of an artist we both enjoy, an arcade or an amusement park (im like a scaredy cat but im almost 100% sure im more likely to go for the “scary” rides if i was with someone i enjoyed hanging out with anyway), probably going on a tropical vacation (cus, beach anddd water activities), water amusement park !!

A Must Have in my Partner: they have to be okay with me pursuing my goals lol; i already have a problem with putting too much energy into others that i dont get to direct that energy onto myself.. so someone who has my best interest in mind + being considerate of me (because.. of that dismissive avoidant attachment style i would say--im just saying this because its the best that i can describe it) and they should be okay with my childlike actions/tendencies lol (like... they shouldnt be repulsed or something like that--that they treat me unpleasantly because of it or something) (oops i just realized thats more than one when u asked just.. one)

extra information: a short drabble would be amazing !!

sorry this was pretty messy and i pretty much just babbled LMAOO

but again, if ever you get to do this (or even if u dont..)

thank you so much!!!

i hope you have an amazing rest of your day hihi <3

sorry it took me a while ! i was just really busy lately and barely got time to write 😅

hope u enjoyy :)

I ship you with..

Nishinoya Yuu !!

- You are the most gorgeous person he knows ;)

- he literally shamelessly approached u the moment he laid eyes on u

- even with ur somewhat quiet first impression, he never gave up making u eventually warm up to him

- doesn’t really mind brute honesty, in fact he thinks of it as a form of bravery

- he also loves seeing your childish side since he himself has one too

- wanna dance around in the rain ?? he will 100% join u !!

- he loves how determined u are to get better and will constantly tell u how proud of you he is for it

- even if things dont go ur way sometimes he will comfort u and tell u that its completely normal to fail sometimes

- there is no overthinking on his watch !

- noya knows how bad it feels and that u definitely deserve a little break but he wont let u laze around too much, trying to help u get back up on ur feet and regain ur confidence is something he never fails to do

- he loves watching u do what u love and is always willing to join u (not that he is always fully understanding of what he is doing)

BONUS :

Cheering you up on a bad day..

You were getting frustrated trying to fix a mistake you made on one of your paintings. You let out a loud groan hiding your face in your hands in exhaustion, finally giving up. Hearing a loud knock on your door, you tell whoever is outside to come in. “HEY, HOW WAS YOUR- ....day ?” noya looks at you with concern in his eyes. “are you okay ?” “yeah i’m fine, its just that this painting won’t look right no matter what i do” you sigh.“maybe i should just throw it away” “you are not gonna throw it away” he says, his tone completely different from before, more serious in fact. “you might just be tired now, so don’t you dare give up now. you can always try again tomorrow” he says walking towards you and holding your hands in his, a little smile forming on his face. “how about you take a break for now ? the sun is really warm and it’s still early; wanna go swimming ?” You look a little unsure. “you still haven’t used that corgi beach towel i got you” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. You chuckle at that, proceeding to look him in the eyes with a small grin forming on you face, “sounds like a plan”...

[ravenbrenna09]

Jij Verliest - Chapter Three: Clip 6

master list  previous (Woensdag Part One)

...

Woensdag 22:39

Sander’s final text message was a simple address to a nearby park, and while he knew little about what they were doing, as soon as he received it, Robbe grabbed his phone and his wallet and headed out of the flatshare. If his roommates noticed his abrupt exit, they didn’t ask about it. As Robbe biked to the address that Sander sent, the thrill of not knowing their plans—and meeting up with Sander—melted a little of the residual anger that bubbled up in the aftermath of Thomas and his texts.

At first, Robbe had been angry at Thomas for calling his mama. It was the reason that Robbe finally decided to text him back after the number of messages that he had left on read. But as soon as Thomas responded, his anger returned in full force because his ex-boyfriend wasn’t getting it. Why couldn’t Thomas simply take the watch and leave Robbe alone? Why was he making such a big deal about the fact that Robbe was returning a watch that he never used? As the conversation drew on, the explosion grew in his head, the anger at Thomas with it, and Robbe stopped the conversation, unable to take any more of it. 

But his anger hadn’t gone away.

As he attempted to focus on his Bio notes in front of him, on the review that he was glancing over again, his focus kept drifting to his phone. Thomas was still sending him messages and each ding from his phone amplified the anger boiling inside of him. Robbe was not an angry person by nature. He didn’t like lashing out—hated it with a passion—but Thomas was getting close to causing an eruption with Robbe at the center. He needed to get away from the flatshare and distract himself until the anger went away, which was why he picked up his phone and messaged Sander without thinking. 

And, here he was, biking to a park to meet Sander. 

Even in near darkness, it was easy for Robbe to spot Sander once he arrived. With the bright full moon shining in the sky, Sander’s bleach-blond hair stood out, reflecting the silver moonlight. The tattoo artist in question was lying on what looked like a blanket in the middle of the grove with one arm tucked beneath his head. There seemed to be a small wicker basket next to his head, but Robbe didn’t have a clue on what was inside.

As Robbe approached, dragging his bike with him, Sander glanced away from the stars, his green eyes catching Robbe approaching, and a smile burst across his face. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Robbe grinned over at him. As Robbe leaned his bike against a nearby tree, Sander sat up on the blanket, crossing his legs beneath him. Robbe moved toward him and Sander patted the area beside him. He quickly sat down and crossed his legs beneath him. “Why does it not surprise me that you would be into stargazing?” Sander chuckled as he pulled the basket closer to him. “What did you bring?”

“I brought grapes, strawberries, and other fruits,” Sander said. He opened the basket to show Robbe before reaching in and pulling out two bottles of beer. “I also figured you might want at least one of these.” 

“Yes,” Robbe said. Sander grinned, opening one before handing it over to him. Robbe quickly took a sip of it as Sander opened the other one. “You should’ve told me that you were bringing stuff. I would’ve stopped by and grabbed something on my way.” 

“Nah, you had a lot on your mind,” Sander said. He pulled out a handful of strawberries from a plastic bag before proceeding to feed one to Robbe. He bit down on the fruit as Sander ate one himself. “So did you want to talk about it?” he asked before adding, “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I just thought I would ask.”

“I just don’t understand,” Robbe said, frustrated. He took a swing of his beer before continuing. “He pulls away, he breaks up with me, and, as far as I’m aware, moves on. It takes him three months to get his clothes from my apartment. But as soon as I return this dumb watch that I wasn’t even using, he starts acting like I just pulled out a gun and shot him in the foot.”

“Maybe you should’ve.”

“I just don’t get it,” Robbe said. “I don’t get him.”

“I don’t get him either,” Sander echoed, grinning over at Robbe. “I mean, he broke up with you. I don’t see how anyone could possibly think of doing that.” Robbe felt his cheeks flush considerably and, judging from the way that Sander’s grin grew, he could tell. “Besides, I’m sure he’ll realize his mistake sooner or later.” 

“I’m not sure I want him to,” Robbe admitted quietly. Sander glanced up over him, raising a dark eyebrow, as Robbe glanced at him. Their eyes met and Robbe shrugged before returning his gaze to his beer. “A few months ago, I would’ve jumped at the chance of us getting back together. But after this, after him just trying to force me to take a watch that I don’t even want, I don’t think I could ever go back to him.” 

“I get it,” Sander said. There was a little sorrow in his voice as he leaned back, propping himself up on one arm. His eyes were directed up to the sky, to the stars twinkling above them, and he let out a sigh. “Like you finally saw their true colors and you don’t know how you missed it?” 

Robbe nodded. “Yeah.”

“I had an ex-girlfriend who was really controlling. From what she told me, something happened in her last relationship and she was trying to fix what she had done wrong.” Sander paused, biting down on a grape before continuing. “So she was even more controlling than she even realized. I didn’t realize how much until we broke it off and Senne pointed it out. We’re still pretty decent friends now, but we’ve decided that we’re never going to give it another shot.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought it was always me.”

“I’m sorry,” Robbe said. 

“It’s okay. It was years ago.”

There was a comfortable silence between them. Robbe took a drink of his beer before glancing over at Sander, who was resting against the blanket. His bright green eyes were focused on Robbe and he couldn’t look away from them. Sander laid down, his eyes directed at the sky, before reaching out to pat the blanket behind Robbe. “Come on, I’ll share my wisdom about the night sky.”

“Is there going to be a pop quiz?” Robbe asked, taking a drink. 

Sander grinned as Robbe laid down beside him. “Nope. Just a small lecture. If you can keep up.”

“If I had known that, I would’ve brought my notebook,” Robbe muttered, causing Sander to belt out a laugh next to him.

…

Woensdag 23:43

There were only a handful of constellations that Sander knew, or at least that he could accurately point out. 

The first thing Sander had shown Robbe was the David Bowie constellation. It was shaped in the form of a lightning bolt and had a total of seven stars. According to Sander, the constellation sat in the vicinity of Mars, which was fitting because of some of his songs. Sander traced it out in the night sky and Robbe had to scoot closer to see the figure that he was drawing with the constellations. After showing him the depiction of his idol, Sander showed Robbe the constellations that he knew by heart. Once he had run out of those, they started looking up constellations on Google and searching for them. 

Trying to find each of the specific stars in the masses of similar stars was a difficult task. More than once, the two of them found the wrong star in a sequence and would go searching for the right one. Occasionally, they would lose it and have to start all over again. But the two of them descended into laughter as they munched on the fruit and sipped the beer that had quickly gotten warm. Sander was nursing his first one and Robbe had reached the start of his third.

After the two of them were struggling to find one of the zodiac signs in the sky, Robbe asked, “What do your tattoos mean?” Sander glanced up from his phone, which cast a white glow across his face. Sander’s legs were crossed beneath him. Robbe’s were splayed out with one leg over Sander’s knee as he laid against the blanket staring at him. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. I was just curious.”

A small smile spread on Sander’s face. “Not everyone gets tattoos that mean something to them. Some people just get tattoos that look good.”

“I know,” Robbe said, popping a grape in his mouth. In an effort to small-talk with Noor, he had asked her the same question and the majority of hers didn’t have a personal meaning. She had gotten them because she wanted them. “You just seem like the person who might have a few with a personal meaning.” There was a moment of silence between them. “Am I wrong?” he asked. 

Sander smiled before reaching out his right arm toward Robbe. “One.”

“There’s only one with meaning?”

“No,” Sander said, grinning at him. “You can only learn about one of them at a time.” 

“Aww, why?” Robbe complained. Despite that, he could feel a smile growing. Sander shook his head with a small smile on his face and Robbe pouted at him. He reached out, grabbing Sander’s right wrist in his hand, before looking the tattoos over. Sander’s skin was warm in his hand and he could feel Sander’s bright green eyes on it. Robbe glanced up at him. “Is there any way I can learn more than one?”

Sander chuckled. “Maybe if you bribe the teacher.” 

Robbe smiled up at him, feeling the blush on his cheeks. His eyes dragged over the sunflower, the dragonflies, before settling on the trees. “What do the trees mean? I saw a photo of them on your Instagram.” 

Sander smiled at him fondly. “The trees are the outline of the forest outside my grandparents’ home. When I was little, I used to go hiking in the woods with my dad. One time, I wandered away and my dad didn’t notice and I got lost. I was scared, but he eventually found me and took me back. Once I got to secondary school, I hit a rough spot and I started feeling that ‘lost in the woods’ feeling every day. When I got out of it, it was because of my family and my friends, so when I started designing my tattoos, I decided that I wanted the trees to be the base to remind myself that I’m not alone anymore.” 

Robbe nodded, smiling a little. “That’s really sweet.” 

“Don’t spread that around, it’ll ruin my reputation.”

“Your reputation as what?” Robbe asked, laughing. 

As he waited for Sander’s response, he dragged his finger across the outline of the largest and darkest tree. The pad of his finger traced along every jagged edge of the tree, every branch, every twig that jetted out. It wasn’t a smooth silhouette of a tree but it added the realism to the tattoo. The tattoo looked like it had been traced exactly from the photo on his Insta. Sander shuddered beneath Robbe’s fingertip and he glanced up at him. 

Sander’s bright green eyes were focused solely on him, connecting quickly with Robbe’s brown ones. As soon as their eyes were locked together, Robbe felt the same electric spark shoot through his nervous system again. His entire body felt warm—warmer where his hand was gripping onto Sander’s wrist. But it might be the mild night air and the lukewarm beer messing with Robbe’s mind. Glancing up at Sander, he watched as the bleach-blond glanced down at him, biting his lip beneath his teeth. 

Gently, Sander pulled his wrist from Robbe’s featherlight grip. He rested his forearm by Robbe’s head, using it to brace himself as he leaned down. For a second, all Robbe could do was watch him, wondering what Sander was thinking, as his green eyes searched his brown ones. Then, Sander’s eyes flickered down to his lips. It only lasted a fraction of a second, but he caught it all the same. Robbe swallowed, tilting his head up a little, and his own eyes wandered to Sander’s mouth. 

There was a determined look in Sander’s eye before he started leaning closer.

With his back pressed against the ground, Robbe felt like he was witnessing the moment in slow motion. The seconds dragged on and blended together in one hazy motion. There was a part of him that felt like he should stop Sander before they kissed because it all felt too soon and too fast. But at the same time, Robbe didn’t want it to stop. He could see that Sander was watching him closely, his eyes silently analyzing his every move, waiting for Robbe to speak up—to say no, to ask him to stop, to push him away—but Robbe didn’t. He didn’t want Sander to stop.

In fact, Robbe wanted Sander to come closer—faster—until their lips crashed together. 

Robbe felt his eyes fluttering close as he waited for the kiss—for Sander’s kiss. He felt Sander’s other hand press against his thigh. Even through his jeans, he could feel Sander’s body heat, adding to the electric buzz he was feeling. From the second that their noses brushed together, Robbe felt his body crane up for the kiss, trying to meet Sander somewhere in the middle, trying to connect their lips a little bit sooner. 

Sander was so close that Robbe could practically feel the upturn of his smile. Sander tilted his head, moving that much closer, and Robbe reached up, searching for the curve of his jaw. For a split second, as their lips grazed, Robbe wondered if he would be able to taste the grapes and strawberries on his lips or the beer on his tongue—

Like a bucket of ice-cold water being thrown on them, his phone rang out in the quiet space between them. 

Robbe had never been more annoyed at his phone in his life. Letting out a disgruntled noise, Robbe blindly searched for his phone, not wanting to open his eyes. Once he felt Sander moving away from him, he opened his eyes. Sander was sitting straight up again, reaching for something. As soon as Sander found his phone and held it in his hand, a thought rang through Robbe’s head, practically begging the universe: please, please, don’t be Thomas. Sander held up the phone for him to see. 

Lucas.

Robbe let out a relieved breath, reaching for the phone. Once it was in his hand, he answered it quickly with a tense, “Hello?” 

“Hey,” Lucas said, sounding tense. “It’s safe for you to come home.”

“Lucas,” Robbe groaned, running a hand through his hair. His leg was still draped over Sander’s and neither of them made any effort to move it. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” 

“Thomas stopped by,” Lucas said. Robbe felt his blood run cold and he resisted the urge to bolt upright. “He said that he needed to talk to you ‘face-to-face’ about that fucking watch. When I told him that you weren’t here, he didn’t believe me until I showed him your empty room.”

“Please tell me you told him to fuck off.”

“I did not,” Lucas said. “He seemed pissed and I didn’t want to test him. I didn’t know if that was why you left earlier so I thought I would let you know that it was safe.” 

“No, I didn’t know he was coming by or I would’ve warned you. It wasn’t why I left,” Robbe said. Before his flatmate and friend could question about where he was, Robbe quickly added, “Thank you for letting me know. I’ll see you when I get back.” 

As soon as the call ended, his notifications lit up the screen. The vast majority of them were text messages or calls from Thomas, trying desperately to get in touch with him. The text messages increased in threats of coming over if there was no response and the number of calls went into the double digits. Robbe let out a sigh, nearly tossing the phone aside before he saw the clock. 

It was past 23:00.

“Is everything okay?” Sander asked.

Robbe sat up and shook his head. “No,” he said, staring up at Sander’s green eyes which were focused solely on him. “It’s past 23:00 and I’ve still got to study a little more before I go to sleep. And I have an early morning class tomorrow morning that I don’t want to go to.” 

To emphasize his point, Robbe pouted which caused Sander to snort. 

Sander smiled softly. “Well, you better get home and study before you get some sleep for that beautiful brain of yours.” 

At his comment, Robbe felt his cheeks flush, burning hot and bright in the summer night. But he didn’t get up from the spot and Sander didn’t move from beneath him. As Robbe lingered on the ground, his leg still draped over Sander’s knee, he wondered—or, rather, hoped—that Sander would lean forward to press their lips together, to actually finish the almost-kiss that had been so rudely interrupted. 

Instead, Sander patted his knee and motioned toward his bike, which was still leaning against the tree. “Go on,” Sander urged. “I’ll pick up the blanket and food. You need to study.”

Robbe nodded, biting back the mild disappointment in his chest. “Okay,” he whispered. “Thank you for meeting up with me.” Sander nodded, grinning genuinely at him before patting his knee again. 

He moved his leg off Sander before standing up on the edge of the blanket. Once he grabbed his phone and his bike, Robbe headed to leave. As he did, he glanced over behind him to see Sander picking up their makeshift picnic. For a few moments, Robbe watched his rhythmic movements before climbing on his bike and heading back to the flatshare.

[skrltwtch]

Muse

Prompt 1: Just like some people sleep-walk, you tend to paint or draw while in your transformed state because it calms you down. And apparently, people really like your art.

Prompt 2: A is a popular artist, and B messages them without thinking one day. They didn’t expect to become friends, and they definitely didn’t expect to become more. Person B just felt that connection between the two of them.

Prompt 3: A/Werewolf has a tendency to curl like a dog in front of the fireplace a lot (usually in their werewolf form, but it’s not uncommon for them to do it as a human). (Sources in master list)

Word count: 3,721 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I put up with the long commute to and fro between home and work for two reasons, and two reasons alone: the decent rent for a place with a picturesque view and that catered to my monthly needs, and the glut of time to catch up on my reading. And by ‘reading’, I meant ‘scrolling through the handful of social media feeds that survived my latest cull of shit that was taking up my time and storage space unnecessarily, and occasionally attempting (and failing) to pay attention to my Kindle’. Hey, at least I was aware I had a problem …?

Instagram was my first hit of the day. I flicked past images of makeup, friends in situations I wouldn’t be finding myself in anytime soon, and cute animals. The occasional meme and comic draw out an exhalation of air from my nostrils. I marvelled at artwork and photography, half wishing I were half as good as the people I followed and admired, half chiding myself for not practising either enough and losing interest quicker than I’d dropped money on new equipment in the name of my new endeavours. You could say one of my hobbies, the ones I’d been consistent about, was amassing gadgets obtained to indulge my whims and fancies.

My heart skipped a beat — or was it the pothole the bus went over? — when I came across a new post by George. I didn’t know him personally to refer to him by his first name like that, but hadn’t social media broken down boundaries between people, making them seem closer to each other than they really were? He was an illustrator whose work I chanced upon on Reddit a while back. His portfolio was a patchwork of subjects, often portraits, rendered mostly in traditional media like watercolour and oil paint. He sometimes shook things up with abstract, contemplative pieces. He had something for almost everyone. For me, it was his attractive, angular yet distinctive faces and statuesque figures, use of watercolour, and versatility: one piece could be superhero fanart, followed by a collection of moody, atmospheric paintings of the English landscape with some fantastical additions.

It also helped that he seemed to be a nice, chill person, and a handsome one at that, too, based on the smattering of pictures he had of himself on his feed. Please, let me imagine a world in which someone as ideal as him — or what I knew about him — wasn’t beholden to anyone for a moment.

His latest post was a drippy bust of a snarling wolf with full moons for eyes. The caption simply read: ‘Mood.’ I smirked as I hit the like button. Did I mention that he drew wolves a lot as well? Sometimes his wolves were feral; sometimes they were humanoid, but still wild. The latter featured heavily in his conceptual works, albeit as hazy, indistinct forms, like blurry photographs. In any case, I liked that he had a fondness for wolves and werewolves, as the constant presence of the full moon in art of the latter would suggest. Anyone who liked wolves was a-okay in my book. Anyone who liked werewolves was even more so. Because.

An interrupted connection between my brain and my reflexes led me to visit his profile. Instead of returning to my feed, my thumb gravitated toward the message button at the top of the screen. Not a single cell in my body resisted this turn of events despite the restored connection. Oh, what the hell. Why not? Like, what were the chances he’d read my message? He had tens of thousands of followers, a likely considerable chunk of them being bots aside. He must receive DMs every other minute. I’d be another sycophant in his sea of fans. Or he’d see my homely mug and locked profile, and he’d think I was driven to add to his never-ending count of unread messages simply out of misguided thirst.

The beauty of the Internet was that it made ‘out of sight, out of mind’ fairly easy to put into practice.

I got the following out of my system and into his inbox: ’Hi! Hope you’re doing well. I’ve been following your Instagram for a while, and your latest post just made me want to say your art is amazing. (I can totally identify with the sentiment behind it.) I especially love your more abstract pieces. There’s something so … raw about them. And I like that you seem to like wolves a lot, too. They’re beautiful animals, and your art really captures that about them. Anyway, keep up the great work! Take care.’

I exited Instagram, not caring about the rest of my feed anymore and not wanting to feel like I was stalking my notifications for something that’d never come. My phone buzzed with several notifications as I went down my Reddit homepage. I swiped away the banners with green icons that pelted the top of my screen. Those could wait. What couldn’t were the banners stating that I had a new message and a new follower request from —

‘Oh, my God!’ I said, loudly enough for me to hear my own voice above my music (the chorus of Walk the Moon’s ‘Shut Up and Dance’ at half of maximum volume, so … loud). Not one soul on this lightly populated bus acknowledged my exclamation — not even the woman sitting next to me. (Come on, lady, the front was mostly empty.) Thank God for technology making hermits of us all. Or my sudden outburst paled in comparison to the shit that could happen and had happened on public transport. When you took long journeys as I did every day, you’d see some real shit in due time, too.

I launched Instagram for the second time this morning (stop judging, Screen Time) and the first time ever with trembling hands. The notifications were real. I approved his request first. My mind raced to recollect anything on my profile that might make him regret his decision to let my piddling photos of food, myself, my cat, and random junk take up precious space on his feed. Nope, couldn’t think about that now, because I was now staring at an actual, honest-to-God message from George:

’Hey! Thanks for reaching out, and thank you for your kind comments. They mean a lot to me, especially what you said about my experimental stuff and wolves. They are stunning creatures, aren’t they? And yeah, I drew that last picture after a particularly rough night. You could call it a self-portrait of sorts, I suppose.’

I snorted. Change the fur colour and make the eyes normal, and it was a portrait of myself every full moon. Okay, not something I could tell someone I just met, let alone a popular artist on the Internet …

Before I could recover from the shock that my inbox held an actual, honest-to-God message from George Holden (that was his last name — the oxygen made it to my brain for me to remember that he had his last name on his profile), he sent another one: ’Anyway, how are you? I took a look at your profile, and it looks like we have quite a number of things in common.’

What, really? No way. Was it the lashings of sweet treats I subjected my stomach to every weekend? The horror and science fiction titles, celebrity memoirs, and comics, sometimes paired with an iced coffee at either a café I put down roots for the afternoon or the one-bedroom house in Waltham Forest I called home, I showcased to put forth some form of air of intellectualism? The cross-stitch projects featuring memes and popular culture icons? His profile was quite barren of anything that could provide insight into what else he enjoyed doing besides his art. Which, hey, was perfectly fine: no one was obligated to share their personal life online.

I replied, ’I’m fine, thank you. I’m on my way to work. Favourite part of my day, really. And really? Like what?’

Most of my notifications that day were from him.

✦✧✦✧

I was a bustling hub of activity in my seat: A sip of my drink. A shake of my knee. A lift of my phone. A turn of my neck. A shift of my weight from one butt cheek to the other. I was certain I was generating enough electricity to power a lightbulb in five-second intervals. I couldn’t help it. I was so, so excited — and so, so nervous. This was my and George’s first time meeting each other in person. There’d be no screen between us. Actually, what difference would that make? We’d been talking to each other for months, either through text or video calls, the latter more common in the weeks leading up to today. We’d seen each other even on our ‘I’ll put on a clean shirt, brush my hair, and hope for the best’ days. What could either one of us do in person that would irrevocably alter our friendship for the worse? Well …

The sound of someone entering the café stopped me from starting on a list of things that I could do to fuck things up. I looked up, probably the seventh time I did so in the last ten minutes. This was on me. I grossly overestimated the amount of time it’d take me to get somewhere as usual; a natural by-product of living far from the city. Seventh — probably — time was the charm: it was George — and right on the dot, too. His punctuality added to his attractiveness, which had already gone through the roof and was heading straight into the stratosphere. I bit my lip to suppress any unfortunate exclamations. He was a friend, Evelyn … just a friend, and I had no illusions otherwise.

I called out to him. He waved at me and joined me at the table I picked out for us. And the second our eyes met, devoid of any barrier between us, everything about him — and everything about us — clicked.

He was just like me.

And I was just like him.

And he was as astonished about it as I was, going by the long silence that passed between us, a first since we got to know each other.

‘Hi! Oh, my God, it’s so good to finally meet you!’ I said with a grin to break the tension. He broke out into a smile, his posture relaxing. Success. Should I go in for a handshake? No, that’d be too stuffy for a months-old friendship. A hug? No, that’d be too intimate for a months-old friendship, and an online one, too, no less. Was it obvious this was my first time meeting someone I met online?

‘It’s good to meet you, too,’ he said, his expression of cheer unabating. ‘I’m going to get myself a drink first, and then we can shoot the shit.’ His smile turned into a grin. ‘Do you want anything? My treat,’ he added as he spotted me reaching for my wallet.

‘I was thinking a red velvet muffin, please.’ I didn’t know why I didn’t get one earlier. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. I’ll be right back.’

As he left, my nerves turned into happiness that I met another werewolf. It was rare to meet other werewolves just about anywhere. What were the odds that two werewolves, one of whom was Internet-famous, would become friends because the other one had a brain fart one morning to send a message to the Internet-famous one? You couldn’t make this shit up. In all the years I’d been a werewolf, George was the first one I knew. I didn’t even know the one that turned me. I got bitten one night, and that was my life changed forever. I figured everything out on my own — I had to. And my puny social network of werewolves made sense: this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing anyone would advertise about themselves.

Once George settled down and courtesies were out of the way, the first thing out of his mouth was ‘I never thought I’d meet another one like me’.

I moved my chair closer to him so that we could speak at length about what we were without the fear of being overheard. ‘Me neither.’ Then it hit me, and I quickly said, ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, though.’ Personally, I was okay with what I was. No existential dread here, contrary to what one might expect of a werewolf. It happened. I learnt to manage it in a way that made it not have any kind of significant impact on my life. I refused to let it define me. And honestly, I lived for particularly bad days that coincided with full moons.

‘Are you kidding me?’ His face lit up with boyish glee. ‘I’ve been waiting for this day for so long! As in, us meeting up in person for the first time and me getting to know another werewolf. Two birds, one stone: the only kind of killing I endorse. And I’m so fucking chuffed it’s you. I always felt like I could talk to you about anything, and now that really, really means anything.’ It was his turn to be able to power a light bulb, but in twenty-second intervals this time.

‘Same. How were you turned?’

‘I was bitten during a camping trip with friends a couple of years back. You?’

‘Secondary school. I was walking home from the library.’

‘Shit, that was some time ago, huh?’

‘Almost half my life a werewolf.’

‘Do you know the werewolf that did it?’

‘Nope. How about you?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah. Kind of sucks, doesn’t it, that you’ll never get to know the person who’s changed your life so … deeply? They won’t remember either that they turned someone. If only having kids was like that, yeah? Absolutely no sense of responsibility whatsoever.’ He gave his teaspoon a lazy twirl, causing a faint plume of milk to rise and sink into the dark, bittersweet depths from whence it came. ‘I struggled with what I’d become the first couple of months. The transformations were one thing.’ Oh, yeah. ‘I felt … grotesque. God, the amount of self-pity, like, why was I the only one who had to go through this every month when there were four other guys ripe for the picking? So, I decided to start incorporating wolves in my art to get to know and reclaim that part of me. I didn’t want to see it as something ugly. I mean, you get to experience a kind of rebirth every month. That’s extraordinary if you think about it. And I told myself that like myself, the wolf didn’t ask to be born. Ha, ha. Millennial humour. Anyway. Then the most miraculous thing happened one full moon: I woke up next to a coherent painting that wasn’t there the night before.’

‘Oh, my God.’

‘Right? My more artsy stuff? The ones I hate coming up with captions for? Almost all done while I was transformed. I’d started some of my art — bet you can’t guess which one — on full moons, too, and I finished them after I changed back. It’s as if the wolf knew we were now cool with each other.’ He took a big chunk out of his apple crumble and jammed it into his mouth. ‘Sorry if that sounded like spiritual woo-woo. I’ve been wanting to tell someone about this forever.’ Crumbs fell out of his mouth as he spoke. ‘Shit, I’m such an’ — he shot me an impish look as he swallowed — ‘animal, aren’t I? Fuck, I can make stupid references like that now, and someone would get it!’

I laughed. He was such a dork. ‘It’s not “spiritual woo-woo”. It’s amazing. How is that even possible?’

‘I have no idea.’ He held out his hands in front of him. ‘So thankful we get to keep our hands and not have them turn into paws.’ He waggled his thumbs. ‘Fuck, yeah, opposable thumbs. And I want to say it’s like when artists get high and make stuff. I do know artists who do that, and hey, no judgment. To them, I do the same thing, too.’

‘And here I am, feeling accomplished whenever I make it through another full moon without waking up in a trashed place. Seriously, that’s amazing.’

‘I think that’s what’s keeping me from losing it while transformed. I was surprised people liked those pieces when I started posting them, considering they’re such far departures from what I usually post.’

‘That explains why they’re so … visceral.’

‘Yeah? I figure you’d appreciate them even more now.’ He smirked. ‘And you know, no one really talks about my wolf art, and especially my werewolf pieces. Maybe if I didn’t make them blurry and made them more explicit …’ Oh, he’d get a different breed of followers altogether. ‘But that’s fine. I don’t want my lycanthropy to define me and my work. It’s just a part of who I am.’

‘My turn to say something possibly corny: I like your wolf art because … they make me feel seen, because they’re drawn by you.’

He put a hand on his chest. ‘That’s not corny. I’m happy my art makes you feel that way. You know I don’t care about the likes or comments. It just so happens I like drawing things that make me get likes and comments.’ He pushed his plate toward me and motioned at me with his fork to try some of his apple crumble. I obliged him. ‘Did you ever suspect anything? Not that, you know, I purposely drew wolves and werewolves as a kind of signal for other werewolves to pick up on. That’d be giving me way too much credit.’

‘No, I just thought you like wolves a lot.’

‘Same here. What you said about wolves being beautiful creatures when you messaged me the first time … that made me feel something, too.’

‘Then I’m very glad we got to be friends,’ I said. Born from the same blip in brain activity that set us on this path, my hand found itself on top of his. His touch had a pleasant, almost familiar heat to it.

‘Me too.’ He turned his hand over and clasped mine.

‘I have an idea,’ I said, mostly to distract myself from how right this felt. ‘Do you want to meet on the next full moon?’

‘Sure. I can’t wait to see what kind of inspiration will strike with another werewolf around.’

‘Your place, then?’

He nodded. ‘Unless you’re cool with me possibly trashing your place with paint and stuff. That hasn’t happened before, but who knows? What if wolf-me doesn’t like change?’

I stared at him in disbelief.

‘I can’t help it. You have no idea what kind of beast this has unleashed. Oops.’

We sat and talked in the café the entire afternoon; we took turns treating each other to food and drinks to justify our occupancy. Our conversation moved on to other topics besides the one special, biggest thing we had in common. Just like we didn’t want it to define who we were as people, we made a promise to each other, and we did so over a strawberry custard tart, that we wouldn’t let it become the foundation of our friendship from this point on. It’d be unfair to the moments we shared before this. We were friends because we cared about each other, we brought out the best in each other, we could truly be ourselves around each other, and, honestly, I didn’t think anyone else would have the patience for his goofy in-jokes.

✦✧✦✧

I lay in front of the fireplace, rejoicing in the warmth it offered on this cool night, while George was working on his newest painting. Since getting to know each other in these forms, we’d been able to exercise better control. For me, that meant greater peace of mind; for him, that meant a more refined grasp of his artistic sensibilities. As with much about our condition, we didn’t question this. What could possibly be a drawback of us spending more time in each other’s company? I now understood why animals curled up by a fire was a common sight in media and real life, too. Wait, what if this, and not George’s presence, was what I’d been missing all my life?

My tail wagging like a fiend when I felt his breath on my skin begged to differ. I licked his face. He gently parted my lips and slid his tongue onto mine. Our tongues engaged each other in a playful scuffle; the fire crackling in the background could only dream of coming close to causing the rise in temperature in the pit of my stomach. The tussle between our tongues didn’t get to turn into something more: he’d had a long night. I nuzzled him to convey reassurance. He lay down beside me and wrapped his arms around me, his hold firm yet tender. We fell asleep like this, keeping each other warm long even after the fire had died out.

We wished each other a good morning with a kiss — no, two kisses, and we got ourselves ready for the day. As we were having breakfast, George piped up, ‘Do you want to see what I painted last night, love? I’m really proud of it, and I think you’d love it, too.’

I nodded excitedly, my mouth too full of scrambled egg to speak.

He returned as quickly as he’d left the table. His hands held on to a painting … of me curled up by the fire last night. The figure was the clearest, most detailed he’d ever done; the lighting was phenomenal. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, tearing up a little, frankly. ‘I love it. It’s going to look so good in our new place’, along with the recent paintings he’d made of a similar nature. He’d come so far from the gauzy forms that once populated his attempts at capturing his — our — condition on canvas.

‘Of course, when I have the most stunning model.’ He gave me a peck on the cheek. ‘I love you, my muse, my mate.’

[sailormoonandme]

Checking Out other Magical Girls shows Part 4: Miraculous

Of all the Magical Girls shows I’ve been researching this was one of the ones I was most hotly anticipating. See, in addition to Sailor Moon, American superheroes are a big passion of mine and Spider-Man is my all time fav. So a show that ostensibly combines the two was fascinating to me.*

I checked out three episodes from the first season, ‘Stormy Weather’ and the two part ‘Origins’ episodes. I was initially recommended the former as the best place to start but honestly I kind of regret doing that. Every ‘watch list’ I consulted recommended I NOT start with the origin episodes and I do not know why, they were a perfectly natural jumping on point and a far better introduction than ‘Stormy Weather’ was. Not that ‘Stormy Weather’ was bad, but I was a little lost.

Let me get some negatives out of the way before I move onto positives.

So the origins episodes I think at times dropped the ball as far as laying out the ‘rules’ of how Ladybug and Cat Noire’s powers work.  

-The five minute time limit comes out of nowhere and I don’t understand if it applies just to Cat Noire or to both of them, when the timer begins (from the moment they transform or from when they use their unique powers).  

-I’m uncertain if Ladybug has some kind of special visionary power because in 2 episodes items are lit up in a ladybug pattern in sequence and this is how she deduces how to use her Lucky Charm. But I don’t know if that’s a power of if it’s just an artistic representation of her figuring out what to do herself

-I also think the show should’ve clarified that when they refer to their ‘super powers’ they mean their special unique abilities, because obviously they both get enhanced reflexes and whatnot.  

-I guess also they seemed to know their the special phrases to activate their abilities without anyone telling them, but that’s standard Magical Girl fare I won’t hold that against the show. Same thing with how intuitive the characters seem to be with their powers, although I don’t know why Adrienne seems better with his powers off the bat than Marinette did?

-Finally, I’m very much in two minds about Ladybug’s unique powers. It’s certainly novel as super powers go and I guess works with the magical aspect of the characters. But…she gets a random item that will somehow help her resolve the issue? So…are things just predestined here? Her powers just know  what will happen because she clearly needs to make certain events happen for the Lucky Charm to help her, and even then it doesn’t seem to just fix the problem outright. I can see that power being problematic from a creative POV and possibly overpowered. I hope the sow addresses that going forward. The same applies to her ability to essentially undo all the damage caused, including restoring a collapsed building. I mean…does this apply to anyone who’s died too?

One other issues I noted were how Hawk Moth seems to know Cat Noire and Ladybug’s names when he wouldn’t, especially the latter since Marinette had yet to even label herself as Ladybug.  

I know that sounds like I’m really down on this show but the opposite is true. I think those are issues with it but I nevertheless REALLY LOVED THIS!

Marinette is charming and relatable and even Adrienne, in a more abstract way, can be understoof by his desire to feel normal whilst also feeling like an outsider. These might not be brand new teen hero archetypes but they’re classic, and the classics stick around for a reason. Marinette reminds me of Usagi and Adrienne is vaguely Bruce Wayne esque, although given this show’s influences perhaps Tuxedo Mask would be a better comparison.

The show also built up a decent supporting cast in it’s origin episodes, giving both characters a best friend, a rival/possible romantic interest in Chloe and decent tertiary characters ripe for expansion in their parents and body guards. Plus the school setting is a great story engine for the show, capable of giving us emotional drama but also a possibly endless supply of super villains for Hawk Moth to exploit. I also love the Parisian setting if for no other reason than t is refreshing to see a superhero story set outside of New York, Tokyo or an fictional American city like Metropolis or Gotham.  

Hawk Moth himself, whilst perhaps standard, worked for me. He sort of reminded me of Professor Tomoe, but with a little extra spice since he’s drawing upon the same powers as our heroes. And of course…he’s clearly Adrienne’s father (unless the show is setting me up for a huge twist). Again, MAYBE that’s nothing new but…it’s still a fun trope to play. And if I’m right I think I also know his motivation but that’s probably me having consumed super hero media all my life. Aeshetically he’s cool and the moth motif works well for his character.

In fact the look of the show over all works very well. It is a sad fact that the CGI in this show will look dated sooner rather than later since that’s the nature of CGI. But the animation style also allows for dynamic camera movements and action set pieces so I don’t mind. And frankly, this is the closest I’ve ever seen CGI come to evoking anime style animation so I’d be happy to see this style continue/evolve over time in other shows (honestly, a Spider-Man show might look really good in this style).  

In particular I was surprised that the show allowed for decent facial expressions and body language, which I was concerned about since I know the show plays in some romance and that might’ve been hard to watch if the animation wasn’t up to snuff. Thankfully it was and I’m invested in seeing their relationship evolve. I particularly like the dynamic in play here. In Sailor Moon you had 2 people who disliked one another as civilians but were very much attracted to each other as superheroes. There they get on in both identities, but whilst Marinette tries (and funbles) to initiate things with Adrienne, Cat Noire is the one coming onto Ladybug who seems to rebuff his charms (even though she seems to like him). That’s at least relatively unique for this genre and I’m here for it!

So overall, I really liked this and would watch more if I got the chance.  

*Cat Noir is even named similarly to Spidey’s girlfriend the Black Cat.  

P.S. I enjoyed the reference to Wonder Woman/Captain Marvel in the comic book Alya’s comic book.  

[himbowelsh]

valentines day alphabet  ( no longer accepting )

literally no one asked for this, i’m just doing this one to treat myself

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

He’s such an affectionate guy that it’s hard to pin down one way. Skip is physically affectionate with the people he cares for, giving it out almost absently; he’s generous with his time and with his money, putting effort into finding gifts for people he cares for. His primary love language, though, has got to be gestures. Skip loves being able to show people how much he cares. He’ll run errands, do favors, rearrange his schedule just so his friend doesn’t have to go to a party alone...  what really sets Skip apart from the crowd is the sheer lengths he’s willing to go to for other people.

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

He doesn’t know the first thing about flowers, but damn him if he’s not going to try. Skip has a fixed idea of what “the perfect boyfriend” looks like, and chases that ideal constantly. It’s romantic to show up to your date’s house with flowers, so of course he’s going to do that! Except he got them for $5 at the grocery store, they’re bright purple and leaking dye everywhere, now it’s all over his suit, damn it  ----   he puts in the effort. That’s what counts.

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

Like...  he’s not obsessive about it, but would he tackle his buddies for a pack of M&Ms? Absolutely. Without hesitation. Eating chocolate is great, but all the fun lies in obtaining it.

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

It needs to be something fun. Skip...  gets bored easily, and on dates he must keep himself entertained. He’d love to go out dancing, or to do something fun  ---  in the modern era, he’d love laser tag and carnival dates, just because of the raucous atmosphere. Skip can have a good time with pretty much anyone, but he loves doing fun things with his partner the most.

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

He’s such a great hugger. Skip gives big brother hugs  ---  the kind that seem to wrap you up, like they’re determined to protect you from the world, fierce and fond all at once. He pulls someone in close, pressing his chin against their head or shoulder, and rubs their back until they settle down. His hugs can be enthusiastic when the mood calls for it, but also really, really tender. 

F   :   FLIRT.   is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

He’s such a friendly flirt. Which isn’t to say he’s bad, but, like...  half the time you can’t tell if he’s actually flirting or just being nice. He doesn’t have a lot of game, but Skip’s got the personality to make up for it. He’s just charming. A well-delivered pick-up line can make anybody laugh, whether it’s good or not. That’s his go-to move when flirting  ---  get someone laughing, start up a conversation, and get a feel of who they are from there.

G   :   GIFT.   is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

He’s very good at getting gifts for the people closest to him; people always drop hints, and he’s learned how to pick him up. If his sister wants a new makeup kit, he’ll get it for her; if his mother’s been needing new music to play, he’ll buy her a record. Skip likes giving gifts, regardless of the occasion...  but for casual friends, on birthdays and the like, he’s prone to giving gag gifts. If he can’t be certain it’s something they’ll love, he’d at least like it to be something they’ll laugh at.

H   :   HEART.   is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

Quicker than he means to be. Skip’s never been good at guarding his heart; he lets people in too easily, and is always quick to see the best in others. Yeah, he’s been stung by people he cared about before, so he should really know better...  but he’d rather have a hundred friends than five enemies. When he feels himself falling in love, he falls fast.

I    :   I LOVE YOU.   does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Honestly, it’s not something he gives much thought to. Once he’s fallen in love, it’s the easiest thing to say in the world. Yes, he loves them! Yes, he wants the world to know it! He’ll tell his friends. He’ll tell his grandma. He’ll tell the old guy at the convenience store who smells like socks. He’s in love with the most amazing person in the world! (He talks about his partner so much that his friends half-feel like they’re dating them too.) It’s just as easy for Skip to say it to their face as it is to say it behind the back. He says it so often that his partner becomes desensitized to it after a while...  but it sure is nice to hear.

J   :   JEALOUSY.   does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

He’s actually really decent about jealousy. While he’ll get protective if he sees his little sister talking to a man, he isn’t weird when it comes to his own relationships. So long as he trusts the guy, he doesn’t think they’d move in on his partner; and, of course, he trusts his partner to the moon and back.  If an interaction seems too friendly, he’ll keep an eye on it, but he’d never dream of snooping or interrogating his partner over it.

K   :   KISS.   is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Skip is a very gentle kisser. He’s careful in his actions, in the tender movements of lips against lips, because he’s so conscientious of his partner; any sign that they’re not enjoying it, and he’ll lose his nerve. It’s not that he lacks confidence, but Skip needs encouragement from his partner, egging him on and fueling into his passion; with it, he burns a steady flame. He’s playful with his kisses, making sure his partner isn’t holding onto any anxiety. Intimate moments like this, in Skip’s mind, should be fun, not overwhelming. He loves to trail kisses along his partner’s jaw and neck, murmuring praise between each breath as his hands explore their body as much as he’s allowed to.

L   :   LOVE.   who does your muse love?

Skip feels a very intense bond with his family. He and his siblings couldn’t be closer, and he’s felt responsible for his mother since he was a kid; she’s always looked after him, but he also looks after her. Skip also adores his friends more than it’s possible to say  ---  and the sheer amount of friends he has speaks to how much love he’s got to give.

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   is morning or night a more romantic setting?

He’s more in-the-mood at night, because Skip and mornings don’t really get along. Anytime before 8am, he’s just going through the motions of existing. His partner could tie him to the bed and shower him with rose petals, and he’d have trouble remembering it come afternoon. (He might fall asleep in the middle of the show.) Nights are a way better time for romance.

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

Skip’s got an adventurous streak. There’s not much he’s afraid to try once  ---  that includes positions, places, and kinks. While he doesn’t have a depth of experience behind him, he’s got a keen sense of movement  ---  the way his partner’s body shifts against his own, the way he grinds against them, the way their chest heaves and their limbs slide under his palms...   sensation is a big thing for him, and he can’t help noting each one during the act. They taste sweet, and smell like summer rainstorms, and when they moan his name it sounds like a prayer...  honestly, he gets riled up on the sensations alone. He’s an energetic partner, but will match his pace to suit his companion’s. While he can’t help being loud, he’s love a partner who could match him, or at least be a little verbal in bed  (again, he needs encouragement).  He’s a pretty firm switch, but is thrilled when his partner takes control. Getting a little rough drives him wild.

O   :   ODE.   does your muse have a way with words?

Well, he isn’t Shakespeare in love. He tries his best. Skip knows better than to write love poetry, and he’s got no talent with a pen, but...  he’s achingly sincere with his words. When he tells someone he loves them, there’s not a hint of artifice  ---  he just means it, with every cell in his body, and the truth radiates through his words.

P   :   PARTNER.   what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Skip needs someone he can connect to. Someone warm, emotional, who someone with understanding and empathy. He’s drawn to...  very bright people. He’s definitely want someone with a good sense of humor; he’d never be happy in a relationship with someone he couldn’t laugh with. Having fun, going on adventures, being a little stupid at times...  these are all things Skip values in a relationship, and his partner would have to be able to roll with that. He’d probably love an artist, someone creative, who has passions and isn’t afraid to talk about them. Somebody who can keep up a conversation  ---  communication is a huge thing for him in relationships, so he’d need a partner open to doing that. Someone who values family highly, with a deep capacity for love and a firm sense of self. And, of course, they have to have a great laugh.

Q   :   QUESTION.   would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He’d absolutely ask the question  ---   the real question is, how. Knowing Skip, he’s not going to settle for something conventional. Dinner-date proposals are played out, and he doesn’t want to put his partner on the spot with something too public. He might enlist his best friends to help plan, just to have people to brainstorm with; in the meantime, Skip would sow his seeds. He’s not a huge planner, and has all the subtlety of a drunk duck, so if he makes a plan, his partner will be able to tell something’s up. He finally concocts some wild plan with Penkala and Malarkey, springing it on his partner last minute...  and once they’ve finished doing a scavenger hunt or chasing squirrels in the park with messages around their necks, whatever the boys have come up with, he’ll drop to one knee with a look of extreme hope on his face. “I’ve wanted to ask this for a long time  ---  hell, probably since the minute I met you  ---  but now just feels right. Do you...  feel the same way?”

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

He’s got a very strong romantic side that really only comes out once he’s “in love” with someone. Like...  he’s not always successful, but he’s very creative about it, and very enthusiastic. Yes, he did knock over the candles and accidentally set the food on fire, but wasn’t a romantic dinner a great idea? He likes being romantic, because doing things like that, putting on a show, feels like giving to his partner.

S   :   SWEETHEART.   did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

He definitely had a few girls in the neighborhood with crushes on him, cause Skip was an absolute sunbeam as a kid...  but his true loves were both at home. Skip’s mom and his little sister both got the lion’s share of his attention growing up; he loved them both so much that romance never crossed his mind.  (That changed when he got to high school don’t worry, but it was fun while it lasted.)

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

Sure he does. Okay, it’s not for everyone  ---  his parents sure didn’t have it, and he learned the rough way that high school romances are usually too flighty to be called love  ---  but it’s a thing, no doubt. It’s real for the people who want it, and who’re lucky enough to find it. That’s gonna be him...  one day, he’ll fall in love too.

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

He had a few nasty breakups in high school. They never knocked him out for long, but definitely hurt, and he still carries the scars from them. Let’s just say, the words “we need to talk” set off some Kill Bill sirens in his head.

V   :   VALENTINE.   how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

He gets weirdly enthusiastic about it. For Skip, Valentine’s Day is an opportunity to impress. He’s always got plans  ---  as a kid, he made a point of being both his mom and his little sister’s Valentine every year. As he got older, he never lost the habit of double-Valentining. Now, he usually goes on double-dates with his sister. Does his V-day date really want to be hanging out with Ruth and her boyfriend of the week while Skip argues with the maître d' about dinner reservations he absolutely didn’t book last minute? Probably not, but he didn’t consider doing it any other way. Skip always wants to give his partner a good time, but he’s usually...  just a bit too much on Valentine’s Day. He’d be better off relaxing and just letting his partner plan something.

W  :   WEDDING.   would your muse get married? why / why not?

Absolutely! He doesn’t have to think about that one. Skip’s got a ring picked out in his head and is ready to walk down the aisle by, maybe...  the sixth-month mark? It’s not that he moves fast, he’s just very confident in his own heart. When he knows, he’s sure. Getting married has always been something he wants  ---   not having grown up with a stable family unit, he craves his own little slice of domestic bliss  ---  and as long as it’s to the right person, he’s ready to go.

X   :   XOXO.   does your muse use / like pet names?

With extreme glee. He loves throwing out goofy ones, just to see how his partner reacts, and will lay it on thick in front of their friends just to make people groan...  but in private, he’s fond of “baby”, “doll”, “sweetie”, and the very cheesy “lovebug”, which earns him well-deserves eyerolls.

Y   :   YOURS.   does your muse get protective easily?

Very. Skip doesn’t seem like a serious guy at first glance  ---  but he’s got an intensely protective side, cultivated from looking after his family since he was a little kid. He’ll lay it all on the line for the people he loves. No one messes with them. No one hurts them. Skip will take care of it, and he’s not afraid to get physical to do it. His go-to, of course, will always be to try and make nice first, see if a little friendliness can diffuse a tense situation...  but if someone lays hands on his loved one, all bets are off. No one would take Skip for a fighter until he throws that first punch.

Z   :   ZZZ.   how many people has your muse slept with?

Oh no, his Mama raised him right  ---   these lips don’t kiss and tell! (That’s a lie. He spent a full hour talking Malarkey’s ear off about an amazing kiss he had on a date once, until Malarkey wanted to smother him.) Honestly...  not many. He’s always been a popular guy, but that doesn’t automatically translate into “people want to take him to bed”. Skip’s been with three people. He’s not the type for sleeping around  ---   he takes sex personally, more than he really means to.

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Dobson’s favorite cartoon reviewed: The adventures of spandex girl in New York aka the Miraculous Ladybug movie

So THIS is not going to be about a Dobson comic, but rather with the lack of Dobson posting shit out here, I thought I give my opinion about something Dobson would have likely sperged out within the last few months. What could it be I want to talk about? The riots? The death of RBG? Cuties?

Are you insane? My brain may function better than Dobson’s, but even so I am not touching those subjects with a tong, seeing how I myself am lacking detailed knowledge on such subjects. No. I am talking about the cartoon that makes Dobson’s little brain (and dick) all tingly: Miraculous Ladybug.

For starters, let me just say that despite being an animation fan myself, I am not really into this show at all. For a magical girl show that goes on for over three seasons at this point, I just feel like nothing happens in it. Sure, A LOT of tokusatsu and magical girl shows run on repetitive monster of the week formulas, but overall they will still have some progression to themselves. Growing up with Sailor Moon, I always loved the first season and how it actually made me feel like things are increasingly at stake as the story progressed. Especially in the final episodes when the Senshis actually died protecting Sailor Moon and it was only thanks to a Deus ex machina everyone was reincarnated again. As melodramatic as Sailor Moon could be, at least each story arc had a beginning and ending that did not overstay its welcome. Ladybug meanwhile can be summed up as followed:

 Teenage girl is thirsty for obvious blond boy whose dad wants to get magic jewelry to necromance his comatose wife. Teenage girl gets magic jewelry and turns into heroine in ladybug mustered spandex suit that makes rule34 artists all tingly. Same goes for boy she has the hots for, only he becomes gimp catsuit shota bait. Bad guy transforms random citizens who feel down for some reason (often times connected to a blond whose family name Dobson can’t write) into action figure like super villains. Ladybug and Cat Noir defeat them, the damage is reseted, Ladybug and Cat Noir never figure out who the other one is despite things being so obvious Ray Charles could have seen that shit coming. Repeat not just for one, but ALL seasons so far and add as little as possible storywise to increase the roaster of characters, but not progress the plot.

 All that said, I can say that there are worse shows out there and for a show meant to sell toys to girls and be about a female hero, it is not THAT bad. But a) the creator is an asshole (think of functional Dobson) and b) there are still better shows to watch, even within the preteen magical girl genre, than this. Not to forget that this thing may be the indirect successor of Totally Spies and give certain people internet related fetishes within the next few years.

So, why am I believing Dobson would talk about the show at least for today more than he already tends to do on average? Because Ladybug actually got now a movie.

Well, it is called a movie, but in reality it is more of a 3 parter to start the fourth season if you really look into it. The thing is called Miraculous World: New York – United HeroeZ. It clocks in around 65 minutes and focuses on Marinette and Adrien in New York, teaming up with new heroes that are so unsubtlety promoted in this movie, I expect them to get their own spin off series by the end of next year so the showmakers can milk the cow even drier.

Let me try to elaborate in what is going to be a less than just a bit snarky summary with a few critical points and jokes at Dobson’s expense thrown in here. In other words, the typical biased youtube reaction channel/movie review.  Spoiler warnings are obvious and I promise than unlike certain pedos on youtube I am not going to focus on the assets of underaged French girls. I do warn however for increased levels of making a fool of myself by writing a multi page “mock summary” of this thing.

So because the movie is based on a children show, it has a very basic set up; Adrien and Marinette’s class is invited to spend one week in New York, because of a pointless international collaboration thing referred to as French-American Friendship week. The sheer existence of this showing that a) we needed any reason to get them there and b) this special was worked on LONG before COVID19 hit us all. And yes, I know animation takes its time to be done, I just think it is funny how in today’s international political climate and health situation this thing has become outdated already, when it is hitting the tv just now.

 At the same time, Adrien’s dad suspects that an artifact currently shown at a museum in New York may be a missing Miraculous that was owned by the Marquis de La Fayette and gifted to George Washington during the American Revolution. And yes, we are going there and you can guess what Hawkmoth’s goal this time is, while at the same time history gets fucked up the butt.

 But before we can get to any action in New York, we have to deal with the one thing Ladybug is known for best: Cringy shipping bait.

 Look, I know that shipping is a part of magical girl shows in general, but the shit going on in this cartoon is not only drawn out tediously even for children tv standards, I find it makes some characters outright dumb and unlikable. We get it Marinette, Adrien makes you tingle. But can you stop cringing your way through life around him in a manner that would make Tomoko Kuroki say that you are freaking pathetic?

I don’t want anybody else. when I think about Adrien I...

 Just three minutes into this movie she essentially melts away at a poster of Adrien and throughout the first 15 minutes she just simps away in the big blue yonder. For example by asking Adrien’s dad to allow his son to travel with the others to New York, obviously stumbling upon her words when she needs to remind herself that she can only see Adrien now as a friend and not love interest (because this is supposedly set after season 3, when she decided to go for the second price in form of the guy who plays guitar), insisting that she is only “friends” to the point even her best friend Alya gets fed up. Or when Marinette gets more than just “a bit” nervous at the chance of sitting on her flight to New York next to Adrien, resulting in her fucking that chance up so badly, I felt an headache approaching. 

Not gonna lie, I had to pause a few times because it got so cringy for me, I wondered why Dobson makes primarily jokes on Adrien’s expense when Marinette herself is female thirst personified. Even the movie seems to point out how the two are so obvious to each other, when Alya has the following to say about them: I can’t decide if they are the most cutest people I know, or the most embarrassing.

Thankfully it is at 18 minutes into it, we FINALLY get something of a conflict. While still on the plane (And Adrien and Marinette watching a sunset through a window) a villain shows up, trying to steal the jet engine midflight.

 Just roll with it

 Thankfully, before the plane can go down thanks to a Gremlin on the wing- I mean TECHNO PIRATE, the real stars of the movie show up.

 Wait, you thought this thing was going to be about Ladybug and Cat Noir being the primary heroes? WRONG!

 Okay, to put the summary on hold and explain what I mean: This “movie” introduces us to “United HeroeZ”, a group of American superheroes. Yeah, turns out Miraculous is essentially set in your average “Superheroes are everywhere, but primarily US dominated territory” world and this story is meant to introduce us to them and have Ladybug and Cat Noir team up in order to save the day. And while I don’t necessarily HATE the characters, I have to admit that I can’t help myself but snark quite a bit about them. Not only are they for the most part just expies of well known superheroes, the way how prominent two of them in particular are featured in this movie makes it very, VERY obvious that (As I stated earlier) this thing aims just to create a tie-in show for the creators to make more money of the property. Not just that, but their presence in a way reduces Adrien and Marinette’s importance as characters, even though the new ones at best would count as supportive characters overall. Which again makes me wonder, what does it say about Ladybug and Cat Noir’s “impact” in their own franchise when I actually find myself more interested in the side characters made to promote new toys, than the actual leads?

 Anyway, United HeroeZ defeats Techno Pirate and in doing so we are introduced to the main members of the group which are relevant for this movie:

So please, give an applause for…. MAJESTIA (aka actually decent Powergirl redesign/Non Superman)

 SPARROW (Aka yet another Robin that may get hit by a crowbar)

UNCANNEY VALLEY (aka The Shipper on Deck/Cleopatra in Tin Foil/Vision as your Waifu/the dumbest name you could have chosen for a character!)

NIGHT OWL (aka Alan Moore is going to be pissed!/Oh look, it’s Batman!)

You get where I am coming from when I call them expies, right?

 Anyway, with the plane safe the class finally gets to New York. Both Sparrow and Uncanney Valley get tasked to go undercover with the students and assure they are save during the trip, because plot reasons and New York is supposedly enough of a safe place that their services aren’t needed to fight bigger threats currently. Which confirms at the very least that a) this is not the Marvel Universe cause at this point the town may be ground zero yet again and b) a way more enjoyable version of the Big Apple than the real deal.

By the way, these are Uncanney (left) and Sparrow’s (right) civilian identities :

I can now imagine Dobson wanting to proclaim how problematic the character is for being a native American who looks the way she does. But believe me. It gets kinda worse in all the right ways.

 Also, we are 28 minutes into the movie and we are introduced to the dumbest thing in the movie yet. The arch enemy of the Condiment King; Hot Dog Dan.

A superhero hot dog vendor seller with a flying hot dog truck, whose hot dogs give you temporarily some random superpowers when you eat them. And it seems he uses hot dog tongs as weapons.

I don’t know what the people making this show take, but I am torn between wanting some of that myself and putting them into rehab.

 I really bring the character just up because he is as a concept in itself so ridiculous that part of me thinks he is a fever dream of Dobson. Otherwise he has no real bearing on what is going to happen on the rest of the movie. He is just relevant for a three minute long scene of a house roof party during which Adrien and Marinette dance for a bit.

 Speaking of relevance, the next day the class finally gets to do something on the trip that leads into conflict for our heroes to face. During a visit of the museum where the La Fayette related Miraculous is hold, Uncanny and Sparrow decide to play shipper on deck by forcing Marinette and Adrien in a room and attempting to set a really stupid plot into motion (and no, I don’t mean they enforce a reenactment of Steven Universe or something). At the same time the villains finally do something, when Hawkmoth (now in New York) turns Techno Pirate into his latest minion and have him attack the museum to steal a saber by La Fayette as distraction, while he takes the charm he is out for. Long story short: Our heroes FINALLY transform and have to fight with Uncanney and Sparrow against Techno Pirate on the roofs of Manhattan.

 And while I don’t think it is all that great of a fight, it still means something aside of Marinette cringing her way through the plot is happening and the heroes are actually in decent peril. Plus during the fight the movie gives me one of the funniest moments possible. You want to know what it is?

 Well, while fighting the bad guy, Cat Noir and Ladybug obviously trigger their miraculouses. And what does Ladybugs miraculous turn into this time, to help her develop a strategy to defeat the villain and save the day?

A bikepump.

 ... yeah, I am going to give all of you now 5 minutes to laugh it off. Believe me, I needed them too.

Sure, it is a cartoon and I doubt anyone working on the show is even aware of our favorite uncare bear, but come on. At this point the universe itself is either mocking Dobson or tries to set up the perfect opportunity for an obvious joke from my side.

Not helped by the fact that once the bike pump shows up, the dialogue between characters that follows is, and I quote:

Cat: A bicycle pump? What are you going to do with that?

Ladybug: I may have an idea, but you wouldn’t like it

 Anyway, believe it or not, the fight actually ends with a surprising shock moment. Cat Noir, while having his cataclysm powers active (you know, the powers that make him decompose anything he touches), being thrown by Techno Pirate at Ladybug, resulting in Uncanney protecting her and being turned into scrap metal. Which in turn causes Techno Pirate to make the acquaintance with Majestia’s fist, as Uncanney is more or less her adopted daughter and I guess she has seen what was going on (but did not interfere because the plot says so) until now, pummeling him so hard he flies through a few buildings and causes at least three 9/11 to happen on this day in New York.

So, yeah. Uncanney is dead. The heroes experiencing their darkest hour in the movie.

… welp, can’t have that for long, so less than 2 minutes later Ladybug uses the Magical bikepump…

5 minutes of laughter later

Got it out of the system? Good. As I was saying; She uses the fetish toy to reset all the damage done by the akumatized villain and in doing so fixes Uncanney too.

Welp, that was a waste of tension. Guess someone watched the entire Lars dying thing from Steven Universe.

So, damage undone, but Majestia and Night Owl pretty pissed at what happened, want Ladybug and Cat Noir to give up their miraculouses (I assume that is the correct plural) until they leave New York. You would expect this to result in some dramatic chase scene or confrontation with the older heroes, but because this movie has just like 22 minutes left and we need to close act two now, our heroes instead flee and end up in the sewers of New York.

There they do NOT team up with a group of mutated reptiles, but have a heart to heart talk (I never thought I would agree with Dobson on something, but I have to agree on this: The show is kinda fixated on having important stuff happening in sewer channels) that is sort of an argument Cat Noir and Ladybug also had during the fight. You see, because those two idiots haven’t  figured out their respective civilian identities yet (something even Sailor Moon would have figured out AFTER THREE SEASONS!) Marinette assumed that Cat Noir would be in Paris while she is in New York to keep the city save. And Adrien/Noir was okay with making the promise of keeping the city initially save, because his dad only allowed him on the trip the day after he made the promise. So when the two transform out of sight of the other in New York and meet, instead of asking some logical questions (like “where is Marinette/Adrien and why is Cat/Ladybug here?”) they kinda argue wtf Cat is doing here while Paris may be in danger.

Long story short, she is angry at him, he feels guilty for having disappointed her and the thing with turning Uncanney into scrap, Paris was attacked by Hawkmoth’s secretary unleashing temporarily some monster clone because Hawkmoth thought that distracts the heroes in Paris (and really just results in damage that makes a city that experienced the destruction of Notre Dame the year prior just feel numb) and because this is the turning point in the plot, our hero needs to do something just a bit too melodramatic. Which is that Adrien gives up his powers and runs away.

… so, up to the final part in which things to care about start to happen.

Hawkmoth now has the Miraculous and unleashes its Kwami who is this eagle themed little thing referring to itself as the “Kwami of Freedom”.

 … Yeah, this thing was NOT around for the last 200 years, wasn’t it?

 Anyway, it states that its powers are based on “freeing” people of limitations to achieve their full potential. What does that mean practically? It means that when Techno Pirate holds its powers on top of his regular powers increased by being akumatized, he can unleash some energy attack that removes moral inhibitions when getting hit by it.

… So it basically unleashes the Purge.

 Which is exactly what happens to Majestia and Night Owl, turning one into Man of Steel Superman causing nine additional 9/11s on top of the three prior (how the fuck did this movie manage to turn an American tragedy in a measuring unit?) and the other into All Star Batman.

Oh and it turns the President of the USA into a worse war monger than people accuse Trump of being.

Oh, this is NOT going to sit well with anyone...

… Yeah, sidenote: The president of the USA in this movie is essentially Michelle Obama who ALSO is a superhero with an American flag theme and besties with Majestica and Night Owl, trying to protect the exchange students. Because supposedly NOTHING better needs to be done. Once she gets hit by the “Freedom Feathers” or whatever you want to call the Kwami power, she pulls out the Football and activates turrets all over the USA, ready to blow up anything that moves into smithereens. Including at least 10.000 such turrets on the roofs of New York and a nuclear missile in the bay near the Statue of Liberty.

I’ll take it to the people with the eagle not the dove. If there is one thing that obedience is symptomatic of, it’s W-E-A-P-O-N-R-Y... WEAPONRY, from above!

(BTW, the rocket is animated like shit!)

I get the feeling someone on the production team is not the biggest fan of America.

 Anyway, with the heroes being useless and Marinette and Adrien mopping around for what happened during the battle (and Adrien being tricked by his dad to leave New York and get back on a plane cause this town is not save and Adrien can’t fucking stand up to his emotionally abusive father), Uncanney and Sparrow have to get the ball rolling so the day can be saved. Which means that Sparrow and Ladybug try to fight and distract people for time (off screen mostly), while Uncanney hijacks Adrien’s plane and brings him back to take up the gimp suit of Cat Noir again. Oh yeah, almost forgot, Uncanney, cause she is a robot, has figured out easily who Ladybug and Adrien really are cause scanning. Making our heroes literally dumber than a walking toaster.

 So the four finally together, fight Techno Pirate on the Statue of Liberty a second time (after some hijinx with another corrupted hero whose power is literally to create portals through doors, but he is irrelevant for anything so I skipped him up until now) and defeat him. He loses the Miraculous, Sparrow takes it on and becomes its next official owner, resulting in her costume turning into THIS

 So now we have the native American girl turn into an eagle based superhero with a costume that looks like out of a western based Lego set.

Real talk here: Unlike Dobson I do not believe that everything is political or offensive or some other shit. In fact I hate his comic where he talks about “skin color changes” of the black characters in Ladybug, because he essentially tries to create a race issue and tension where there is none, just because he is a social justice moron. Which gets especially funny when his ideas for a progressive female results in characters like the black rat pirat who kicks you in the face for being hetero or infantilizing the characters of Patty to make them visually more appealing to Max Karson.

That said, in this day and age, doing a character like that… kinda yaiks.

Like, on one hand I think the girl has an enjoyable personality and the design of her hero outfit is okay for a kids cartoon. It’s not like she also talks in some cartoonishly native way or has suddenly a tomahawk as a weapon.

On the other hand, it is kinda stereotypical from multiple ankles and unfortunately there is nothing to the character past this point. Oh sure, Sparrow has now Miraculous powers, but really, all she does now is just use her powers to nullify Techno Pirates influence on the adult heroes before Majestia manages to reenact the bad ending for Majora’s mask and that is it.

Granted,  there is Hawkmoth also almost starting World War 3, but that is really just happening at the site and dealt with almost instantly. To be more specific, because Ladybug and Cat Noir did not hand over their Miraculous, he lets Techno Pirate launch one of the missiles near the Statue of Liberty (worse president than Trump, honestly) but before the thing can hit anything, Majestia sweeps it away and throws it into the sun.

You know, if the show writers want to make Adrien’s dad even remotely “sympathetic” or interesting/intelligent, they increasingly fail. Cause I don’t know about you, but causing World War 3 does not really feel like it will benefit in bringing your comatose wife back.

Bottom line: Nuke has been burned, Techno Pirate gets defeated, all the damage reseted, Sparrow is now the official owner of the latest Miraculous and renames herself Eagle, everyone is happy, there is a big celebration for the class and Hawkmoth is convinced there might be other missing Miraculous all over the globe he wants to get his hands on, meaning season 4 may have more globe trotting Miraculous “action” once it starts.

And also the last scene of the movie shows Eagle and Uncanney meeting some other guardian of the Miraculous box who wants the Eagle charm, but she seemingly convinces him to team up, solidifying that this one hour “movie” was really just a backdoor pilot for a tie in series about an American centered heroine that is so big, a freaking monster truck could pass through this backdoor.

 Yeah, if you can’t tell, I am not a big fan of what I saw.

Look, I will openly admit that my opinion on this is in large parts already tainted by me not being part of the demographic which enjoys the show. So this was never going to be considered “good” in my opinion. That said, I tried to be neutral to it for the sake of fairness. And I kinda failed.

Sorry, but I genuinely do not think this is a good “movie”. First, with barely 65 minutes I don’t really consider it a movie and more of a tv special meant to lead into the next season of the show. Second, I expect of a movie based on a tv show to have slightly higher stakes and presentation value to it than what you would expect from any average episode it has to offer. Which this thing doesn’t. Oh sure, the animation is slightly improved in some scenes, but overall just the same. And frankly, the writing is just still as “bad” as in the original show, if in parts not even worse. Aside of the typical stables, such as the cringy romance that does not move forward but is kinda on the forefront, the main heroes stumbling more or less into the situations instead of being more active in their duties, Hawkmoth not even in a movie having a genuine plan aside of “get this, see how it will help me defeat two kids and fail”, the movie also just never manages to induce a proper escalation of conflict to make it feel like something “special”. For example, we have a shitton of temporarily corrupted heroes. Do Ladybug and Cat Noir ever properly face them off at one point or have meaningful/fun interactions with Sparrow and Uncanney or each other outside of the first three minutes of the movie? Nope! I can name a few movies based on animated shows that gave me enjoyment, even those following basic shonen anime rules. But this one isn’t really among them. And taking into account that I consider at least the Steven Universe movie enjoyable in a dumb way, that says something.

 There is also just the fact that it takes away from Ladybug and Cat Noir too much. Sure, I don’t like the romance stuff with them because I think it plays out in some of the cringiest way possible. But I would have been okay with them or other already established sidecharacters doing other stuff and having to face some conflict that is centered more around them.

Instead the movie finds this bizarre disbalance where it focuses too much and yet too little on completely new characters, that feel shoehorned in to create a starting point for a spin off, making Cat Noir and Ladybug secondary characters in their own movie.

I mean sure, I have seen many shonen anime based movies where there is a set of “movie only” characters interacting with our heroes, but they don’t take too much away from the heroes being heroes. Say what you want about the 13th movie of any long running shonen anime, at least Luffy, Naruto, Son Goku etc. are still the central characters of their respective franchise affiliated flic. Here however we take too much away from Ladybug and Cat, while at the same time focusing also too much on their “struggle” as Marinette and Adrien (or rather just Marinette making a fool out of herself while Adrien is utterly obvious to her behavior) while the major heroics are reserved for the movie characters only, that this entire thing should just be renamed “The Adventures of Mummy Robot and Not Robin, also starring two underaged kids that Dobson is obsessed about!”

 All that said, I will give it a few things.

1) Uncanney and Sparrow/Eagle, despite my jabs, are kinda enjoyable in terms of personality. So are their partners/parents (Majestica and Night Owl are actually the (adoptive?) mothers of their sidekicks and also a couple openly caling themselves love, so yay, L(GBT) representation) and if the show would ever decide to focus also a few episodes on other characters aside of Ladybug and Cat Noir, I wouldn’t mind to see them. I just don’t think they are the most original characters out there and I think I may speak for some fans of the show when I say it sucks, that when it comes to the “action” within this “action adventure show”, they take up the spotlight from the actual main characters.

2) The fight scenes against Techno Pirate were okay overall. Nothing mind blowing animation wise but okay for the standards of this franchise.

3) Eagle’s costume design is not the worst despite my jabs at it being “stereotypical”, at least under consideration of cartoon designs (again, I can think of more offensive shit from the 90s or the Dobbear himself)

4) Well, it wasn’t for me, but I can say it was at least still on the same level of quality as the show. Make out of that comment however whatever you want.

My verdict: Three out of five Dobson’s would approve this movie. The other two would rant about stereotypes and be too busy incest shipping Majestia with Uncanney based on one shot of the movie. And none of them would acknowledge the flaws that make the “movie” a badly disguised jumping point for a spin off that makes the Equestria Girls look subtle.

 Hope you got some enjoyment out of this rant that ironically may have been overall more retarted and detailed than anything Dobson may ever say in regard of this movie.

[braincoins]

Unusual Halloween Movies

Tired of Jason, Freddy, and Michael? Want something new this year? Boy, do I have some treats lined up for you! I’ve used JustWatch to list the streaming options (though these are US streaming options; I maaaaay be up for some streaming fun on Halloween...). I’ll tell you right now, this list can almost perfectly be broken into three categories: Horror-Comedy, Sci-Fi Horror, or International Horror.

American Mary -  A medical student drowning under tuition debt finds a lucrative practice when she enters the world of body modification. ngl, I remember liking this movie but it’s been a bit since I saw it, so for the CONTENT WARNINGS I’m going to straight up rip the MPAA here: Rated R for strong aberrant violent content including disturbing images, torture, a rape, sexual content, graphic nudity, language and brief drug use

Ava’s Possessions - Ever wonder what life is like once all your demons have been exorcised - literally? Now that Ava is free of the demon that once possessed her, she’s out of a job, down a few friends, and facing charges for the acts of violence her demon did. The only way to get out of trouble is to go to the demon-equivalent of AA. CONTENT WARNINGS: mostly blood and bad language; some mild sexual content 

Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon - A journalism grad student interviews a young man in training to be the next slasher killer, ala Jason/Freddy/Michael. An absolute treat of a movie for anyone who loves slasher films; it’s about 3/4 mockumentary, 1/4 actual horror film when she realizes that, no, really, he’s going to go kill all those co-eds. CONTENT WARNINGS: Blood, gore, naked boobs (”Ugh. Is that REALLY necessary?” “Now, Taylor, who’s telling this story?”), sex, occasional panty shots (because, again, slasher films). 

Bubba Ho-Tep - OH MAN another one I had to go back and add in ‘cause REALLY NOW. Elvis is in a nursing home (at least, he says he’s the real Elvis) and he and JFK (who is played by Ossie Davis - who you will note is NOT white) have to fight off a resurrected mummy who sucks the souls of the living out of their assholes. Bruce Campbell stars. HOW IS THAT NOT AWESOME ENOUGH FOR YOU?! CONTENT WARNING: Um... look, I think you kinda already know what sort of content to expect given what I just told you about the story.

Bulbbul (Netflix Original) -  (Hindi Language) During the 19th century Bengali Presidency, something - or someone? - is haunting the woods around a lord’s estate, killing men in gruesome ways. The lord has left his estate in charge of his young wife, while his younger brother, who’d been away studying in London, returns to hunt down whatever is causing these mysterious deaths. CONTENT WARNINGS: child bride, blood, and what Netflix calls “sexual violence”, meaning a rape scene so graphic (despite not showing any nudity or genitalia) that it is GUARANTEED to make you uncomfortable. The movie was written and directed by a woman, so there is nothing intended to be “sexy” about this at all. If you can make it through that scene, though, there is a definite payoff for it. (Or should I say “payback”?)

Eli (Netflix Original) - A young, incredibly sick boy with a fragile immune system is brought by his parents to a clinic for an experimental treatment that may be their last hope. But all is not as it seems within the walls of this place... perhaps literally. CONTENT WARNINGS: mostly just language, a few mild jump scares. People get set on fire at one point. No biggie. 

Errementari: the Blacksmith and the Devil (Netflix Original) - (Basque Language) Based on a Basque folk tale. Eight years after the First Carlist War, a government official comes to a small, impoverished Basque town asking after the blacksmith. Everyone tries to warn him away; the blacksmith is an evil, evil man. But he is on the trail of some Carlist gold that might be in the smithy, and the prospect of the gold wins him some helpers. And while everyone is distracted by that, a young orphan girl manages to get onto the blacksmith’s property. And what she finds there, no one could have expected... CONTENT WARNINGS: I took a screenshot of Netflix’s list of warnings just because it amuses me:

[sings “One of these things is not like the others...”]

Europa Report - Look, I really can’t recommend this enough for fans of found-footage features and people who can stand slower-paced, constantly-building terror. An international mission is sent to investigate Europa, one of the moons of Jupiter. (Those of you who are fans of real-world space exploration know that Europa is considered a prime target for extraterrestrial life within our solar system.) Contact was lost with the mission for a long time, until the data streams came flooding into Earth all at once. And what they showed... CONTENT WARNINGS: Like I said: slower pace than most horror/thriller movies. It builds slow and steady. There’s really not much in the way of blood and gore, though; an excellent example of terror without resorting to buckets of red corn syrup.

Event Horizon - Hellraiser in Space? Hellraiser in Space. Except the Lamentation Configuration is a fucking SPACE SHIP. Also, props for genre-savvy cast. CONTENT WARNINGS: EYE SCREAM. Blood, gore, and, no really, THE EYE THING. Did I mention the gore and the blood? Oh, and language. And blink-and-you-miss it nudity & sex.

Grabbers - Strange creatures are attacking a small Irish coastal town and the only way to protect yourself is... to be drunk? CONTENT WARNINGS: I mean, it’s Irish and everyone’s drunk, so bad language (by American standards) is a given. That’s... really about it, unless you have a tentacle phobia.

Green Room -  An up-and-coming punk band show up to play a gig and realize too late that they’re playing at a Neo-Nazi club. And when they happen to see something they... really shouldn’t have, it becomes an all-out fight for survival. Same director as Murder Party, though this movie was made later with a much better budget. CONTENT WARNINGS: Violence, blood, gore, and yes, some dogs die because they were trained to be vicious attack dogs by Neo-Nazis. :( Also, the most important content warning of all? PATRICK STEWART PLAYS A NEO-NAZI. (You think I’m joking, but for someone who grew up with him as Jean-Luc Picard, it is downright unsettling to see, okay?)

Life - Think Alien meets Europa Report (above). The six-member crew of the International Space Station are given a sample from Mars that might contain actual extraterrestrial life.  CONTENT WARNINGS: Blood. No, let me say that again: BLOOD. Sounds of bones breaking. Alien creature entering someone’s mouth and killing them from the inside (probably through a combination of choking them/asphyxiating them on their own blood/devouring their blood? It’s not clear, it’s just UNSETTLING).

Murder Party - This is what happens when snobby art school brats try to kill someone. (Read: it doesn’t go well.) Fuckin’ bop of a Halloween song over the end credits, too. Also, at least two characters are canonically bisexual. Same director as Green Room, though this movie was made first (with a much lower budget). CONTENT WARNINGS: bad language, blood, gore, nudity, mild sexual content (the nudity is supposed to be “artistic”). The dog probably DOES die, given the circumstances, but it doesn’t happen on screen, at least? And the dog gets some pretty decent comeuppance first... Also, 1000000% accurate cat representation. 

The Perfection (Netflix Original) - A former cello virtuoso (virtuosa?) gets in touch with her former teacher and meets his new star pupil. An instant connection is formed between the two women... or is it? (Yes, there are lesbians!) CONTENT WARNINGS: oh chaos, where do I start? Bugs under the skin, hacking off body parts, blood, gore, mild sexual content, sexual abuse, and the movie itself is complete and utter MINDFUCKERY. Did you like “Tales from the Crypt” as a kid? You’ll probably dig this. 

Ravenous - With apologies to all Native Americans, but at least they did get actual Native American actors for those parts (George is played by a Pueblo actor; his sister Martha is played by an actress of Menominee and Stockbridge-Munsee descent). A soldier who won a questionable victory during the Mexican-American war is given a hero’s status and then an exile to a remote fort in the Sierra Nevadas. Not long after he arrives, a would-be settler arrives with a harrowing tale, calling for help for what few survivors there are of his wagon train. The two friendly Native Americans at the fort issue warnings that go unheeded, of course. CONTENT WARNINGS: Blood, gore, cannibalism, PTSD.

Slither - James Gunn’s 2006 Feature Movie Directorial Debut! He wrote it, too. An homage to B-movie gore flicks like you’d see at the drive-in. I am just copying and pasting the IMDB summary ‘cause I love this movie too much to be concise about it: A small town is taken over by an alien plague, turning residents into zombies and all forms of mutant monsters. (Oh, but don’t forget the nasty, slithery blood worm things!) CONTENT WARNINGS: Nasty, slithery blood worm things. GORE, BLOOD, GORE, GORE. A very uncomfortable sex scene. Michael Rooker.

They’re Watching - An American TV crew filming what is essentially “House Hunters: Eastern Europe” stumble into superstitions, folklore, and... TERROR!! MWAHAHAHAHA. No, seriously, I LOVE how it’s basically “What if some HGTV crew wound up waaaaaaaay in over their heads, in a horrible and bloody way?” CONTENT WARNINGS: Blood, gore, and NO WI-FI.

[decendingfromgrace]

Festival of Sound

Fantasy!Bakugou x fantasy!fem!reader 18+

Warnings: violence, blood, gore, harassment (not by Katsuki), lots of fluff, sweet times and happy ending, cultural customs and world building (I have cultural traditions and some background information so that’s what I’m talking about)

Words: 8,700

King Katsuki and his beloved wife are going on a trip to reader’s homeland but there’s a reason why she left in the first place and Katsuki finds out all to well.

@lady-bakuhoe I figured out how to make header images so thank you for the help!

Artwork in header not mine, and I couldn’t find the artist, sorry.

The king of all dragon kind, the great progenitor of the ancient wyverns was not expecting his dearly beloved dragon queen to burst into their throne room raving nonsense about some kind of festival, or so he tried to gather. Her sparkling eyes, wide smile and pacing made him not only curious but also annoyed slightly, however when she shoved a flyer into his face he suddenly understood what she was excited about. The flyer was majestic and filled with fanciful words about a musical festival that would span for three days, it's famous title sprawled across the front of the worn paper flyer.

"The Festival of Sound?" The king asked with a raised blond eyebrow at his queen who grinned intoxicatingly. She nodded and settled onto the identical throne as her royal husband's and leaned over onto his shoulder.

"Once in five years, when the twin moons are full, my old town celebrates by throwing a huge festival. There's music and dancing and they serve amazing food, oh Katsuki it's simply amazing. I was thinking we could go together, we would only miss the first day but-"

"No." The queen paused her excited rambles to look at her husband’s crimson eyes which were under knitted brows. A frown brought the queen's smile down and all but shattered her joy when his set glistening gaze did not alter.

"Couldn't you think about it first?" The king shook his head and crossed his arms defiantly. If a festival of humans so much as saw the infamous dragon king, they would send for the guards and the joyful festival would turn into a bloodbath. Both rulers knew this, but that didn't stop the striking heart ache the queen felt at the flat disapproval of her beloved. She didn't need his permission to leave, but without him at her side the festival would feel empty and cold.

"I know what you're thinking, but give them a chance. We've been trying to form peace between the humans and dragons for years so why not make this into one of those chances?" She tried to persuade him with her big sparkling eyes and smile but all she was rewarded with was a curt "no" again. She signed and her shoulders hunched, the flyer limply held in her hands, and her eyes darted away as a sober feeling hallowed out her heart.

"You know I haven't visited my old home in a while, and I thought it would be nice to get away from the kingdom for a bit. The festival was just a way for me to show you a portion of my old life, before I became the "Great Empress of Flame"" His eyes sharped at her and a scowl formed over his mouth, while his eyes rolled away from her face. She looked to his face then at the armrest of the polished glittering throne, surrounded by soft furs and treasures, truly a symbol of both their royalty.

"I adore it here, and I love you. I just wanted to show you a bit of my world since you've shown me so much of yours." A full sigh was heaved from the king, his garnet stare softened. The queen rose from her golden throne and crumbled the flyer in her hands. Her striking tattoos along her shoulders and arms, jewelry of beads and dragon teeth necklaces, and her glimmering wedding ring all remained Katsuki of the leaps and bounds she had to undergo to be his other half.

"You're right, it was a dumb idea. I'll go and check on the patrol and then we can go hunting for dinner-" A warm large hand held hers and she looked to her king who was scanning her face with an understanding and loving gaze.

"This really means a lot to you, huh? ....Let me get the patrols set up for the next four days and we can head out first light tomorrow." A dazzling smile plastered onto the queen's countenance and she wrapped the king in her own bone bending hug, she kissed his cheek andsquishes his face in her palms while kissing his nose. .

"Aw Katsu! You really are a big softly under all that fuss and angry eyebrows." The king growled and gently bit the top of her ear but returned the hug nonetheless. The queen really did have a large sway over the king, whether he admitted it or not. She pulled away and kissed his forehead, eyes alight with a new found eagerness and she laughed at the disheveled looking king who was blushing fervently from his wife’s adoration.

"I'll go pack some provisions while you go take care of the patrols. This is going to be so much fun Katsuki, thank you!" She smiled and he smirked at her back as she fled to their bedroom to pack, her gate gaining a slight bounce in that special way that showed when she was filled with overwhelming joy. He rolled his eyes and stood up, she really was a handful at times but dammit if he didn't love her for it. He marched on to ready the kingdom for the absence of their rulers for the next few days.

"Dumbass, how far away is your home town? We've been flying for days now." It had only been a few hours and the king demanded that the queen would fly on the way there and back since it was her plan to go. She didn't mind, being able to spread her sienna wings and feel the air glide over her scales made the trip worth it, the clouds let small peaks of sunlight shine down on her light red, orange and gold scales. Each royal member of the dragon throne was able to transform into their primordial dragon form, the queen needed to practice for many years before mastering this ability, but her love never allowed her to give up and he suddenly thanked those long hours for he now rested comfortably on her back as she flew. Her chest rumbled at the agitated king riding on her back as she gracefully swooped under an arch made of rock and pulled up to avoid splashing into the sea below. Her hometown was a ways away still, having been founded in an old woods far off from the rest of the world made the small village secluded and practically unknown. Katsuki rolled onto his back and adjusted on the soft scales and small spines along the queen's dragon form and stared out to his right at the cliff side they were flying from, a small bundle of anxiety flared in his chest at the realization they had left their kingdom's territory and were heading farther away from their sanctuary of lush forests, mountains valleys, and their castle of smooth rock and warm stone. He didn't know what to expect to happen at this festival, but he came upon the notion that his loving queen had adapted so much of her heart, body and mind to be his queen and rule his kingdom with him, and so he figured the least he could do would be to see a portion of her old life. He sighed again and rolled into his stomach so he could look at the horns and spines of his lover who was flawlessly navigating the wind currents and ocean they were traveling over. She had come so far from being that meek sell sword that fell into his den during that human raid, to mastering the ways of the dragon kin through intense training and learning of dragon customs, then to claim and ascend onto her rightfully earned throne even after battling to the near death to keep it, her scars showed the signs of her victories. Katsuki found himself pressing himself deeper into the warm scales below him, as his wife gilded around a cascading waterfall, she made sure to wrap her wings around her love to prevent the water from soaking him.

He didn't understand the custom, he didn't understand the importance of dancing and music but the simple reason that he didn't need to know why but how to make her happy made him join his queen on her small journey. She was excited and that was enough for him, so he remained quite as she rose above a jagged portion of seaside rock and looked out on a vast new land of grasslands and spare patches of trees and a few veins of rivers that pooled into moderately sized lakes.

The day moved quickly as the sun was venturing below the horizon and the droopy feeling of night time fatigue began to seep into the mind of the two traveling lovers. A great roar of a yawn echoed from the maw of the sienna dragon ruler, her flying pattern faltered but she was quick to readjust. She shook her mighty horned head and pushed on ward as the dense forest came into view, determination forcing her to set aside her waning tenacity. A hand pressed firmly against her scales on her neck and her gaze looked to her right shoulder where Katsuki was groggily gazing at her, sleep evident in his eyes and the way his hair stood up at odd ends indicated his interrupted sleep. A small chuckle was stifled by the dragon queen.

"Hey, hon. Come on, you need rest. Make for those caves there and we can set up camp." The dragon queen shook her head again and easily moved her wings to fly faster and harder than before, even though her muscles begged her to stop. A soothing touch of the king's forehead against her neck made his intentions and words make their way into her heart and the idea of rest out weighted the idea of overworking herself. A low groan passes the dragon's jaws and she gently swooped down on powerful wings to the mountain outcropping Katsuki spotted, the stone was chilled but it was a decent shelter from praying eyes and unwanted presences. The great dragon queen crouched to allow her love to slide down from her scaled back, and then transformed back into her human form, tired and weak. The sun's light had long been gone when the queen finally was able to rest, flying over rough terrain, battering winds and unruly seas tried her immensely. In a swift moment, she became weightless as strong arms lifted her into a warm embrace. Her love's hold on her as he carried her to the back of the cave caused that sleepy feeling to multiply.

"You push yourself too far, dumbass." Katskui mumbled to (y/n) who smiled and snuggled deeper into his chest.

"Nah, you're just heavy." A loud set of giggles came from the queen as her sides were tickled until she submitted and was set down onto a soft red cape, the soft fur on the cloak's neck made a comfortable pillow. The dragon king set up the fire they needed to warm the stone around them, and with the flame that resides inside his heart, he blew the scorching heat at the bundle of logs and set it ablaze. The king brought the furs they packed and made a makeshift bed, gathered himself and his love and held her close.

"The town isn't much farther, we should make it by tomorrow afternoon. I can't wait until you hear the music, and try all the food." Katsuki pulled the women closer by the waist and silenced her by pressing her head into his heart beat.

"Right now all I want to hear are your snores, everything else can wait until morning." Small protests of how she did not snore came from the queen but her sleepy mumbles quickly silenced as her soft snoring lulled the king into his own slumber, as their limbs tangled together and their shared heat soothed the chilled stone.

Soft bird song and light morning rays awoke the sleeping queen from the cocoon of blankets and furs she was in. She felt around but found no peacefully rising chest beside her and sat up, her hair in an unruly mess as her eyes groggily opened and closed as she sat up and a massive yawn stretched her mouth. A chuckle was heard and a delightful scent of cooking food roused her.

"The Great Empress of Flame has awoken, all bask in her glorious presence." Katsuki teased as she rubbed her sleepy eyes. Her gaze fully opened and she saw her beloved husband stoking freshly caught elk on a relit fire, his bare chest and back carried the tattoos and scars of many past battles and memories, her favorite one was the ornate letter of her first name on his shoulder. She had her own battle scars and inked symbols on her shoulder resembling his but instead hers had a K. She wrapped his crimson cloak around her shoulders and scooted close towards her love, he kissed her forehead and briefly pressed his forehead to her's before handing her breakfast on a large tree leaf. She took a bite and a warm flush of smoky venison ignited her taste buds and a smile spread over her face. Katsuki's pride swelled as his wife’s contentment was caused by his care and he gladly welcomed her wanting to press into his side as they ate. She draped the cloak around his shoulder and snuggled into his side and he encircled his arm around her shoulder, her free hand passed over a large three gashed scar that resembled a dragon's claw on his back and the king shuddered. Their soft silence was met with the droplets of the morning dew falling from their perch on the overhead stone of the cave.

"We should move soon. If we make it over the valley to the west then we'll make it well in time." The strong blond beside the women swallowed the remains of his food as the queen stood to stretch her arms above her head as the cracking of her stiff joints filled the air, her hair reflected the morning sun like freshly ignited embers and her eyes caught the sun's rays in a shimmer of color.

"That maybe tough since were walking the rest of the way." The queen paused and looked at her king who was caught admiring her beauty, her blush was brushed off as her concern overcame it.

"Walk? We'll lose half the day doing that, by the time we'd make it to the town-"

"The festival will just be starting. You need to regain your strength." The king got up, cracked the stiff vertebrae of his neck, pulled his queen by the back of the neck for a kiss, and began gathering their limited supplies of a pac each.

"Come on. There's a small spring we can go and get cleaned up in. Wouldn't want those townsfolk getting a shitty first impression." The queen shorted and swung her pac over her shoulder and braced as the chilled morning breeze ruffled the cloak around her shoulders and the thick fog that hung over everything clouded her vision slightly. Her husband huffed before clasping the cloak together and pulling it right under her chin, she sneezed when the soft white fur tickled her nose. The king kissed her head before they began to move, the dew droplets on the forest grassy floor made a trail of where they parted the blades and passed under the canopy of ancient oak, the shorter female member of the band of two marveled at the way a spider web caught the glowing sunlight in the water droplets that made perfect circles.

The fog hung heavily, providing ample cover to any spying eyes that may cause threat to the two as the king pushed his pac higher onto his shoulder. He glanced at his wife who was happily watching a pair of birds snuggled into a neat nest of grass and weeds. A cold wind picked up and she shivered and then pulled the warm cloak higher on her neck and sighed at the scent it gave off, he smiled.

Upon seeing the large spring, the two began to settle their belongings under a nearby shaded oak and they parted so she could pick up a few sweet and nice smelling herbs for soap and he made a quick patrol for any threats.

Her soft humming floated to his ears and he turned to find her figure reappearing form the forest brush, a small bundle of flora and foliage in her arms. She smiled and shifted the bundle to show her successful gathering and he smirked at himself before placing his calloused hands on his bare hips which she took notice to and blushed, her gaze looking away.

She settled down at the pool's edge and called him over, he waded through the water and rested his arms and head on the stone ledge.

"Ok, I found lavender, lemon balm, mint, katsura, and chamomile." Which one do you want?" The king lazily pointed to the caramel scented katsura with a goofy smile and she nodded and went to work.

"I'll put this together and then I'll join you." He simply watched her work, studying her movements, facial expressions, and the simple sway of her hair and the twinkle in her eyes. After a bit she was done and handed him his portion of the makeshift soap and he walked back under the waterfall to wash, he felt her eyes gazing at the muscle of his back as he moved.

He was scrubbing his hair when a gasp and shriek was heard making him quickly break through the cascading water, blade drawn ready to confront any danger, yet the only thing he saw was her nude skin shivering violently under the waterfall as her eyes darted to him.

"What are you-?" Katsuki barely asked before she darted to the cave under the fall and huddled closer to herself, her arms wrapped tightly around her.

"You never said the water was this damn cold!" She shivered and a boasting laugh came from the bemused king and the queen nearly dunked him then and there. Seeing his queen's chilled figure but blazing with anger eyes, he calmed and gently picked her up unto his arms, her legs eagerly wrapped around his waist to leech off his warmth as he suspended her.

"Come on dear, it's not that cold." She huffed and grabbed a portion of his soap and began running her digits through his blonde hair as he snuggled his nose into her neck.

"Says you. Now hold still so I can properly wash your hair." He pinched her behind out of revenge for the tease but she smacked his shoulder a moment after, their shared laughs echoed off the cave walls.

"Dunk please." He tilted back into the falling stream of water to rinse the suds from his blonde head, she then followed by ruffling his hair and allowing him to begin his determined scrubbing of her locks. The sleepy camomile sent swirled around the two as he massaged her scalp and she gently ran her hands over and around his body, the rushing water behind them made a nice white sound to soothe the voiceless air. Once she rinsed her hair and allowed her lover to smooth the sweet smelling soap over her skin and she did the same for him, she went back to dry off while he stayed behind to finish up. She made it to the edge of the pool when a call of her name brought her attention to the top of the waterfall where a nude Katsuki stood in all his ridiculous glory, smirking triumphantly and puffing his chest out.

"You like the view darling?" His booming voice called down to his queen who was covering her giggles with her hand, her smile was heard in her yell of a reply.

"I wonder if I join you, I'd get a better one." She felt his newly glowing gaze travel and cover her as she strutted up the stones and met him at the top. Her lover laughed and his gaze held the acceptance of her challenge, the chill from the morning breeze made both of their skin flushed roses but the joy of such a challenge lit a delightful feeling in their hearts.

"Largest splash wins." The queen challenged and the king nodded, his signature confident and smug grin pulling his lips up to show his teeth. The queen gestured for him to proceed and with a mock battle cry, the king dives into the chilled water meters below with a decent splash. He resurfaced with a large smile and a triumphant glint in his red eyes, he laughed loudly and shook the water from his blond hair.

"Beat that hun!"

Upon her over look of old corroded stone, the queen wrapped her hands firmly around her hips and tilted her head up, the slow sun warming the world surrounding the two and the king swore she was an angel as the light danced around her. Surprisingly, she turned around and marched to the point where the grass and stone met and the path down to where the king met her feet. She braced her legs and curled her toes into the earthy soil, then took off into a sprint that hurtled her off the ledge, but before her skin hit the water's surface her dragon form was summoned and a total wave cascaded down onto the king. His sputtering was stopped when a massive warm presence easily lifted him to the dry comfort of the couples makeshift area, a prominent scowl contorting his features.

"That's cheating dumb ass!" The glare sent to the dragon in the pool waned when the dragon became a beautiful woman who was giggling and smiling widely.

"All's fair in love and war, my heart. Now accept that I won and that we need to get moving” The king snorted and bit back his retort and instead grumbled a "yes dear" before doing as she asked, a smug look twinkled in her eyes, while the king braided her wet hair.

Hiking proved to be slightly more tiring than flying to the queen, her feet ached from stepping over the recent quarry she and her lover passed through. Yet as the sun swung higher into the clear sky and stone turned to grass, she found herself enjoying the sights she long thought forgotten. Her days were spent ruling and that potent want for adventure fizzled out when she married the love of her life and decided that no adventure would amount to any satisfaction to the burn in her heart without her love beside her, through each tired step of the way. The dense trees and mountains were behind them now and vast plains of grass and open air became their new surroundings, the wind calmed as the weeds under the pair's feet were crushed. The afternoon had set in not long after their departure from the spring, and the process of changing the hour seemed to speed up more once they left the forest, however in the seemingly endless sight of rolling hills before the two time seemed to bend to its own will and stopped momentarily as the fading light of the sun spread over the hills turning them gold, each hill looked as though it were a sun dipping below its own miniature horizon. The pair stood atop one of these brilliant hills and watched the sun disappear from view fully, leaving only the blue-black shimmer of the night sky above their heads, the hills themselves seemed to sign into slumber as the winds stilled completely. The queen, tired but not undeterred, looked to her love who was silently calculating the remaining distance. She just watched him in the afterglow of the day, the way his eyes sharpened to adjust to the low light, how his jaw set when he began thinking, that tired look under his eyes. Her gaze fluttered up to the heavens and a gasp left her mouth when she saw the lights that seemed to dance across the sky in dazzling spectrums of greens, blues, whites and reds. The light gave a stunning backdrop to the king as his captivating red gaze looked hurriedly at the queen who was gazing at him with a look of love, a blush hit his face and the darker atmosphere he thanked for concealing it.

"What?" He asked.

"Look." She responded and pointed up to those twirling lights that pirouetted across the inky darkness to the starry sky. The king followed her gesture and, for a moment, became captivated in the light's glow as well, but he regained his composure.

"So? They’re just the ancestor lights, we've seen them before." His shrug was half hearted, as he tried not to stare in total rapture at the way the reflection of such a heavenly glow danced in the urethral gaze of the queen.

"Yeah, but never just with you and never this close. It's incredible." She cupped her hand in his and smiled up at him, he looked away embarrassed but returned the gentle squeeze she gave to his hand.

"Yeah....I guess they are." She began walking again, this time with her husband in tow as they made way across the hills to their final destination which lay close beyond. The king understood so much about the world he has ruled for multiple millennia, but he never understood its pure beauty in the simplicity of such small things, the lights for example until they passed through her gaze. Until she stared at the spider web, until she spoke about herbs and weeds as though they were jewels, until she said his name. All he thought were important but never beautiful, until her. In that moment, on that star scattered sky and dusk covered hills, he wished to fly high into the lights above and dance with her, but he knew that fantasy would need to be patient as the low melody of song began to float around the tree line they entered.

Paper lanterns arched between poles dug into the ground, their soft lights glowed in the night as the shapes cut into them cast animal-like shadows on the trees. The blond king glared at the lanterns, seeing the ancestral lights above and thought they provided better illumination to the surrounding wind than the human contraption. His mind shifted to focus on another new scene, the scent of a dozen strange foods flooded the king's senses and his eyes fluttered to his queen who was practically drooling, her nose up taking in all the food. She met his eyes and their glow glimmered with such excitement that he felt his chest become light and a smile broke his normal scowl. She quickly gripped his hand and tugged him through the crowds, naming off foods and pointing out traditional significances all while expertly navigating the hordes of townsfolk who murmured incessantly.

The king's ears pricked at the mention of his queen's name, the source far off to his right and in a hushed tone, but being in a village full of those who did not speak any known language to him made him hyper aware. His ruby glare hardened ten fold at the small band of women who were bunched off to the side of the crowd, all their eyes trained on him and (y/n). Her name was said again and the king let a powerful growl towards the group and they turned red and broke apart. Once he noticed his wife’s soft hand not in his, the king began to frantically push others from his path, his broad stature and strange dress of beads, cloak, and loose pants and hide boots made him stand out which earned him questioning glances. He heard his name but the words after he did not comprehend. His ears tuned into her sweet melodious voice, but the language that made her words was incomprehensible to him, yet he continued to make his way to her. He broke through the crowd and saw her hair shining, her smile bright as she began to harmonize a song with a few others, her hands held multiple bundles of food on sticks. He growled, letting her know of his presence and wanting for her at his side and her eyes snapped to see him. With a knowing look she seemed to bid farewell to the group and joined him, making sure to rub against his bare side in an ancient dragon greeting for lovers.

"Try this! I know you'll love it." She glowed and her feet rocked from the heel to ball as that shimmer of her fluorescent eye color danced in that special way he adored. The king looked at the food and then to her, the scent foreign but not unpleasant as the steam gently swirled into the night's cool touch. She clasped his hand which held the food gently and took her own bite, her soft approving groans enticing the king into taking his own hesitant morsel. A smoky, juicy taste coated his tongue, the wave of pleasurable taste did make him give an almost inaudible growl and he aggressively ate the rest, his queen was beautifully happy with his accepting nature.

"What is this?" He asked, his tongue passing over his fangs as his lover smiled wide at his approval. The soft mutterings of the crowd were all in a language he couldn't understand and the unfamiliar land made his apprehension grow, but her presence settled his aggression if only a fraction, and so he trained his attention on her to quell his anxiety.

"It's called..ah well..what would it be in dragon tongue?" Her brows furrowed as the king took the next portion of food and began to eat, a new taste of fresh tange hit his taste buds. She gave a small laugh before a humorous glint flashed in her gaze.

"The King's Boar." Katsuki's chest puffed slightly before he gripped her waist and offered her some of the food with his signature devilish smile. One member of the crowd bumped into the queen, making her flinch back and stumble, effectively ruining their playful moment. The king immediately turned angered and his red glare followed the random passer by, but her small tug stopped him and he stilled.

"Come on. I'll find us a seat somewhere quiet."

As the crowds began to disperse with full bellies, a roaring fire was fueled and rose high into the sky, many gathered close to the flames for warmth but the two dragon kin hadn't the need. The two sat close on a portion of plush festival blankets and chatted calmly about the traditions of the festival, the female royal had basically fed the king until he could not eat anymore and with his voracious appetite it was a wonder how the festival didn't run out of food. Her excited rambles on the multiple other types of food and traditions was silenced when her name was called from somewhere in the crowd. She stood and shook her head as did the violet haired male who approached her, a strange greeting Katsuki surmised. Katsuki stiffened at the sudden appearance of another male, his dragon kin blood made him extremely territorial so he couldn't help the growl that passed over his fangs. That same unfamiliar language made their conversation unknown and his anger grew twice as much, his wife and this strange new comer approached his sitting position, the king spread his legs and looked down his nose. A symbolic way to show dominance in the dragon kingdom, his wife reframed from trailing her eyes over him as she spoke. His name was said and the redhead gestured to him, his glare doubled as the violet haired man looked at him with curiosity, his gaze matching his hair's coloration.

"My love, this is Shinsou, he's a friend of mine from when I stayed here. He and I grew up before I left and found you." The powerful and intimidating king rose up and made himself look bigger, his arms and chest flexing and assertive grumbles left his jaws. His mate rubbed his arm and he stilled and stopped his dominantly assertive growls. Shinsou says something in that unknown language and then looks to the dragon kin.

"Nice to meet you bitch." Katsuki's eyes became hot flames and his fangs bared, his roars echoed, but he stopped once his queen placed a palm to his chest.

"He meant to say sir! He meant to say sir! He doesn't know dragon tongue that well." Katsuki pulled back, his hand tightly grabbing the woman's hand. The king glared but puffed dismissively, his gaze not losing its intensity and anger as the violet haired Shinsou looked down apologetically. With a roll of his eyes and an outstretch of his hand, the king waited. When nothing happened, the king glared again, but (y/n) calmly explained.

"He doesn't know our costumes dear, just as you don't know his." She turns to Shinsou and says something and his violet eyes look to the king then to his open plam, the other male balls a fist and puts it in his hand. Katsuki growls, claws threatening to slice Shinsou's knuckles. The women stepped in the middle and spoke softly to Shinsou then looked at the male ruler.

"I'm showing him what to do, he only wants to make a good impression.." She brushed her finger tips over his and slid her hand up to his forearm, automatically the king gripped her forearm and so did she to his, then he gripped the back of her neck and pressed their foreheads together, a soft rumble came from the two of them as a affirmative way to show their support.

She looks expectantly at Shinsou and says something that makes him give a nervous laugh, he steps forward. Katsuki opens his palm and Shinsou sloppily mimics the movements to show apology in the ways of the dragon, Katsuki accepts but steps faraway from the male.

"Sorry." The dragon tongue left Shinsou's mouth and Katsuki simply nodded. (Y/N) breathed a small sigh of relief before speaking to Shinsou again and they began speaking excessively about something.

"Wife, what is he saying." The way Katsuki growled "wife" in such a deep possessive way made an icy shiver sprint up the queen's spine and she looked back with hazy eyes that glinted with a new lust. Such an immediate shift in her body language made the king smirk with pride for having caused it.

"He's asking about how we met, what has life been like away from the village, where did I go before meeting you." Katsuki growled and looked away, arms crossed and gaze agitated. (Y/n) sighed and spoke to Shinsou again.

"Me hope you like festival." The broken dragon tongue made Katsuki look at a nervous Shinsou. His attempt of speaking was admirable, and once the king saw the pleading look in his queen's eyes he rolled his and held up his wrist. Shinsou smacked his wrist to the king's, a quintessential tradition between two equals in the dragon world, this such knowledge Shinsou held surprised the ruler of the kingdom of fire and scales.

"Looks like you're not completely stupid." The queen growled in warning and the king rolled his eyes again, but smacked his wrist to Shinsou's again, the ancient way of showing greeting seemed to bridge the two foreigners. Shinsou spoke to (y/n) and she turned red, pushing the violet haired guy away and frantically muttered something to him.

"What?" It was more of a threat than a question caused by the king and he came to her side instantaneously.

"He asked me if I was going to dance and I said no." A confused pinch of the king's brows brought a smile to the woman's face and she gently wrapped her hands around Katsuki's arm, he withheld the notion to flex.

"During the festival, people dance around the fire and if someone joins your dance then they are interested in you, if they match your rhythm and you like them then they can court you. It's all very traditional, something I lost interest in." She waved her hand dismissively. Katsuki growled and looked threatening at Shinsou who didn't understand the sudden threatening aura surrounding the king.

"Of course I'm already yours so I wouldn't need anyone else, but Shinsou just isn't familiar with dragon customs."

"Then teach him." The king spat through clenched teeth, the anger was not directed at the queen but more rather the violet man. The queen huffed, sudden displeasure hit her nerves and she untangled herself from Katsuki, much to his displeasure. She stepped away and muttered something to Shinsou in their common tongue. Her gaze went back to Katsuki and as she spoke it became angered.

"Then I will. We will be back later once the festival dies down." Katsuki lunged to grab her wrist, his eyes raged but behind those flames was a powerful worry. Not knowing what to say, Katsuki opted to press his forehead to her’s a way of silently communicating his worry and fear over her safety and she sighed.

"I know all this is overwhelming for you, and on top of not knowing what anyone is saying, I suddenly want to go off bu-" Katsuki could see her losing that happy glow around her, as her eyes dulled at his actions towards the festival. The king of all dragons, ruler of all scaled kind, understood that his own ego and discomfort did not trump her enjoyment, and so he cut off her apologies.

"But that doesn't mean I should make this worse for you. I promised to go with you and enjoy myself, that's what I'm going to do. Go have fun and save a dance for me, ok?" Her smile made the stars jealous as it shone so bright. A loving kiss was pressed into Katsuki's lips as she hooked her arm over his neck and pulled him down. She pulled away, her warmth leaving to, and waved back as she stepped into the crowd with Shinsou.

To say the sight of Katsuki the dragon king was not captivating would be an understatement. His broad shoulders, muscles and toned body, and cherry glowing eyes was transfixing. He sat on a high backed seat in the auditorium surrounding the "Great Blaze" or the fire lit to commence the festival, the name he learned from close observation of the other people. He found it funny how mortals worshipped fire as a god, since his own kind were the creators of such, but no matter. The song filling the air was not unpleasant and the food (y/n) filled his stomach was taking the edge off his temper, her scent was cemented in the clock he wore so when he needed her comfort he buried his nose into the fur around the collar. Katsuki was actually finding himself enjoying the evening, and in his heart he knew (y/n) was having fun as a smile graced his face.

Then a touch to his bare shoulder and the pungent reek of sour perfume flooded his nose, his happy warmth was replaced with sudden cold hostility.

"So this is the great King Bakugou. You surely surpass the legends, they do you no justice." A sweet but conniving tone of a woman pierced his ear, the dragon tongue surprising to him. He glared at the face of a black haired and brown eyed woman who's cleavage was practically popping from the thin lace lining of her dress as she leaned over the king.

"And how would you know my language?" The sentence is barely understood through his growls and snarls, but the women flashed a smile so twisted it made the king's stomach curl. She climbs onto his lap, legs straddling him and hips automatically rolling into his. He did nothing but glare, her attempts at riling him up failing miserably as her intimate movements did nothing to the king.

"Let's just day I've been in close contact with some of the rogue dragons you've been trying to deal with." She bites his neck and quickly sucks, surprising the king. The angered ruler pushed her off him, her ass hitting the ground hard and he straightened up to look down on her menacingly, but her eyes seemed to hold lust rather than fear as her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"Your majesty. Please allow me to properly service you." She crawled between his knees, her head pressed onto one knee and her hands slowly moving from his ankles to his thighs. He gripped her chin, hoisted her up to be face to face with him and snarled, her eyes glowing with desire.

"Listen here whore, there is only one woman throughout the span of time that gets me and you're sure as hell not even a fraction like her. Now get the fuck away from me." He threw her away again and this time her clouded eyes turned from lust to anger and she spit on the ground near his feet and stormed off. The king wiped her saliva from his neck and felt the growing purple bruise forming, dread and fear mixing in his chest at the realization that his wife would soon see what the whore had done. He went off to find her, his nerves shot and a feeling of impurity and betrayal corroded his cool demeanor.

The prancing royal woman was practically bouncing as she and her childhood companion caught up on their current lives.

"So once I completed the final ritual I was turned into dragon kin, Katsuki and I wed and we became rulers." Shinsou nodded while downing his bubbling drink, the two were lounging next to a beverage stand. The violet eyed man marveled at his old friend who he noted had grown so much from those days of using twigs as swords and exploring the lakes and streams outside the village.

"You really have changed (y/n)." Shinsou laughed but (y/n) grew confused and furrowed her brows, her orange beverage sweet and spicy on her tongue, the spice burning her throat.

"What do you mean?" The two met eyes and he paused, his answer being woven and tossed around in his mind.

"You're just..different from the last time I saw you. I just never imagined you'd become what you are now." That statement made the queen's grip tighten, her back stiffened and her eyes became sharp.

"Well ten years can surely change people Shinsou. I never envisioned you to be a wandering researcher that hasn't gotten out of town yet." She didn't mean for her words to be so cruel, but the hurt in his eyes made her guilt twist her gut painfully.

"Shinsou Im-"

"Well if it isn't the town's flower. It's been a long time(y/n)." A sultry voice cut into the conversation as a man approached with piercing blue eyes and brown hair, his sharp jaw held a sadistic smirk. Shinsou, distraught and downplayed, excused himself, much to (y/n)’s displeasure. The man before her towered over her height, his large palms cupped his hips.

"It's been a while Marcus. How've you been?" Marcus nodded, his gaze following Shinsou before looking back to the women. His demeanor became cocky, and pompous as he swayed over to be closer to her, her personal bubble dangerously close to being popped.

"Nothing much, traveled a bit, but nothing like you. If the town gossip is reliable then it's true that you became dragon kin? That you married their ruler? Get real." (Y/n) almost snarled but recomposed herself beforehand. With a clench of her jaw and shift of her gaze, she begrudgingly answered.

"It's not like you've been in close contact for the past ten years. You wouldn't know a thing that happened to me, I'm not that naive idiot anymore." The blue gaze traveled across her body as the man circled her, like a predator to prey.

"That's right. You're not that child anymore, you're a woman and a beautiful one at that." Marcus growled and stepped closer, (y/n) stepped back, Marcus's whisper made bile rise in her throat. She moved away, he followed. This continued until the buff male cornered the queen against the backboards of one of the food stalls, his arm resting above her head as her back pressed tightly against the wooden boards.

"You're so cute when you tense up." (Y/n) held back her body's shaking and tried to push Marcus away, he only grabbed her wrist and pulled it above her head, pinning it in his grip. Marcus's gaze grew hungry as he pressed his nose to her's, drawing in her scent and licking his lips.

"God you're so addicting, like a delicious delicacy I want to feast on." (Y/n) tried to swiftly kick Marcus between his legs, but his hand dug bruises into her thigh as he pulled it up to forcibly, painfully wrapping it around his hip. His growing erection pressed disgustingly against (y/n)’s inner thigh. She pleaded for Katsuki to sense her fear, but not even a scream came from her throat. Marcus dipped a hand to grasp her butt, the mighty queen felt as tiny as a flea in this moment, her pride and power being beheaded as Marcus continued to move his hands. The final straw was when he bit hard onto the junction of her neck and shoulder, in the exact spot her bonding mark to Katsuki scarred her skin. She screamed his name for help, but Marcus stuffed three fingers in her mouth, silencing her and making her gag.

"Shut the hell up, or I'll make you mute." A single tear rolled down her pale cheek and he laughed, he had the audacity to lick it away.

"I did so love to hear you scream though, it gets me so excited." Suddenly a mighty crash cracked the wooden boards above (y/n)’s head, a figure, broad soldered and blade drawn hurtling through the flying splinters and mental latches towards Marcus. His eyes were a lit with the fires of hell themselves

"Then you'll fucking love me!" Katsuki screamed a bone chilling sound, as his chest heaved and his jaws drooled with anger. He stood posed to kill in front of his wife who trembled with relief at the sight of her love. Katsuki's eyes were pin pricks of a boiling blood color that had the power to split Marcus in two, the brunette staggered to stand before Katsuki crushed his ribs with one kick to his chest. The king straddled the man, his face inches from Marcus's and his clawed hand painfully pushed the brunette's head into the soil.

"Don't you ever touch my queen again!" The dragon king plunged his blade into the brunette's hands, blood pooling and splattering over the brown soil, Marcus's scream was muffled by the earth.

"And don't you fucking think about putting you're fucking ugly mouth on her either." The blade, serrated and made of olden dragon teeth, was placed inside Marcus's mouth, sliced the portion of the bloodied man's cheek that connected to his mouth, and Marcus screamed again. The blond, pumped up on anger and adrenaline, licks the bloodied blade and spits the mixture of spit and blood onto Marcus who is writhing while clutching his face and hands.

Turning back, Katsuki sees (y/n), huddled and holding tears back on the ground. He rushes to her side, wrapping his cloak around her and holding her head close to his chest, softly whispering soothing words. Her breathing evened out as he wiped her tears away and put loving kisses on her face. With a mighty battle cry, the queen lunches at the wounded Marcus and struck his jaw with a teeth breaking kick, his tooth flying through the air and landing in a muddy puddle. Katsuki quickly scooped her up in his arms, covering her face from prying eyes with his cloak and steadily walking out of the shadows where a small group had gathered upon hearing the scouting and seeing the now collapsed stall Katsuki broke through.

"That mess of a man assaulted my love. Deal with him, and we'll be heading home."

As his boot steps made imprints in the grass, the crowd parted like a tiger moving through weeds, their eyes never leaving the dragon king until the lantern's light was at the king's back. Rapid feet beating against the hills made Katsuki tighten his arms around his lover and whip his head around to glare, but it was only Shinsou running to the two dragon kin.

"(Y/n)...is she...good?" He panted out that broken dragon language while clutching his knees, his chest rising as the cool wilderness seemed to welcome the two dragon kin more and more.

"She's fine." Katsuki growled, but (y/n)’s hair peeled out from the cloak to see Shinsou, the wind licking her tear smeared face, and the trees swayed gently. Her soft voice sounded tired but her words, unknown to Katsuki, seemed to reassure Shinsou. They exchanged a few sentences before the violet man approached, slowly for Katsuki was in a state of protection over his love but (y/n)’s hand pressed into his chest and he allowed Shinsou to approach. The two, (y/n) and Shinsou, locked fingers and muttered something low before the violet man backed away.

"Let's go home Katsu. All I want is to just curl up in our bed with you and sleep." Katsuki rubbed his cheek against her head, the sweet decent soothing his more ferocious side as he sighed.

"I'm so sorry my love, you were so excited about the festival and I-" His entire being froze when he felt her hands press into the bruise the women left on him from not that long ago. Her body became rigid and she looked up at him with her own terrifying gaze.

"Katsuki, what is this?" He put her down gently, the clock she wore fluttering in the night breeze and he silently cursed the women for smudging her noxious perfume over him.

"Some whore unwantedly tried to seduce me. This is her attempt at a hicky, but the painful shove she revived taught her to fuck off." (Y/n)’s previous sad demeanor shattered, a red rage clouded her eyes and Katsuki saw the way her hands balled into fists.

“She what? This whole fucking night has been a disaster! Dammit, Katsuki I’m so sorry. Let’s-let’s just go home.” As quickly as it left, (y/n)’s rage returned and she ran her hands through her hair to try and soothe her temperament. Katsuki sighed, the dancing lights above the two glowed welcome ugly and seemed to share an idea with the great blond ruler. He scooped her hand into his larger calloused one, her gaze moving to him in confusion but he simply smiled and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“You promised me a dance, (y/n).” He stated it as a fact and a sniffle escaped the queen as she let him begin to sway. Their feet moved expertly in time with the other’s, their movements fluid as Katsuki spun his wife around the rolling hills of soft grasses and illuminated star light. She giggled when he dipped her and twirled when he gently took her hand. His hands smoothed over the small of her back as her’s cupped the sides of his jaw to give him a sweet prolonged kiss, their smiles broke the sweet gesture after a moment of revelry in their touches. They stayed that way, intertwined in both bodies and hearts as the festival's noises drifted out of their realm of focus. The world became quite once more as Katsuki and (y/n) forgot their sorrows in the greatest why they knew possible, each other and they danced along with the night while the stars above gave them light

[fluffyunicornofdanger]

Ain’t No Rockstar: Part two

A/n: I finally got around to writing the second part!!!! This didn’t turn out the way I thought it would, then again I’m not sure how I wanted it to turn out. But now I think the series will be just a little bit longer because I think I know what I want now. Anyway, if you didn’t know, I’m thinking of expanding who I write for and if you have any ideas, I’m all ears.

*~~*~~*

Masterlist

Slash x Reader

Part one

Summary:  Y/n was nothing more than a stressed out makeup artist, at least that all she thought she was. It turns out that she was more than that to one member of the band she was working for. Not only would she have to navigate both his and her feelings, but she would also have to find the courage to seize what she wanted before it disappeared.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Language, fluff, grammar ( I didn’t feel like editing)

Fingers running over the strings, Y/n sucked in a breath as she stared out in front of her. It was late, nearly one in the morning, and she couldn’t sleep. She thought that pulling out her guitar and playing a few cords would help pass time, but it didn’t. Once the instrument was in her hands, she froze. Any tune, any melody, anything that she knew vanished when she tried to play it. 

It had been like that for weeks now. Of course, she didn’t have much time to pull out the guitar, between doing hair and listening to the band whine, there was just never enough time. The last time she had been able to pluck at the strings was when Slash walked in on her on the tour bus. But that had been weeks ago and she wasn’t sure what changed, what caused her to tense up when she tried to run her fingers along the strings.

“Fuck,” she grumbled, rubbing her eyes and setting the guitar on the bed.

Y/n knew what was eating at her but she didn’t want to admit it. It was foolish and she knew that she shouldn’t have let it get to her, but she couldn’t help it. Looking in the mirror every day, she hated the person that stared back at her. It wasn’t her looks, though they had been weathered by tour, it was who she had become. 

Before ever hearing the name Guns n’ Roses, Y/n was a happy girl. Like most, she was young and trying to figure out where she belonged. She dreamed of being a singer, she was quite good and knew her way around a handful of instruments, but that wasn’t good enough. In L.A., mere talent didn’t get you anywhere because there were ten other people who could do the same thing. How could she compete with that? How could she compete with hundreds of other people that were either as good as her or better? Everyone was looking for their big break, making it hard for her to find her’s. 

So, that dream had to be put on the back burner. It was still boiling hot, waiting for someone to take care of it, but it wasn’t a priority. What she needed was money, not the belief that her time would come. Because what if it never did? 

So she settled. 

It seemed that was the worst thing she could ever do as she stared out the hotel window. She settled for shit. Being a makeup artist wasn’t all it was cracked up to be and she had the honor of finding that out the hard way. If only she had picked a different band, there were countless out there that needed a makeup artist, instead of the one she was stuck with.

“Maybe I’ll go for a walk.” She pushed herself off the bed and stumbled through the dark to find decent clothes to put on.

Y/n wandered out into the hallway and walked through the lobby to be met by the brisk night air. It bite at her cheeks, causing her to wrap her jacket tightly around herself. Walking out into the parking lot, she caught a glimpse of a figure leaning against the tour bus. It was hard to make up in the darkness, but she was sure she knew who it was.

Walking closer, the little light that the moon provided illuminated the figure enough to prove her right.

“Slash?” she asked hesitantly, just as there was every chance she was right there was also every chance that she was wrong.

The man, who had been gazing up at the stars, looked down at her. “Couldn’t sleep?” was his response.

Y/n shrugged, moving to stand beside him. Few stars could be seen due to light pollution, but the few that were visible were breathtaking.

“Why aren’t you out partying with the boys?” she asked after a few minutes of silence engulfed them.

Slash shook his head, running a hand through his hair to move it away from his face. “Not in the mood tonight. Plus, Axl’s been acting like an asshole all day.”

She nodded, understanding that all too well. Axl was the worst for her to deal with out of all the boys. He acted entitled all the time like everyone owed him something, and his outbursts were dangerous. There were many times when the band’s manager had to pay for the damages the frontman had done to a dressing room.

“Why are you out here? Don’t you like your beauty sleep?” the guitarist asked her, turning his attention back to the sky above.

Beauty sleep, please. She hadn’t had any of that in a long ass time. 

“It’s hard to get beauty sleep when you can’t seem to go to sleep,” she told him, leaning against the cold exterior of the bus.

He hummed in agreement, wondering what could keep her up at night. Slash knew she was unhappy with where she found herself - stuck with a bunch of wild boys. Though, Y/n never stated such a thing, her expressions always showed it. There was never joy in her eyes when she did a task, when she teased Duff’s hair or when she powdered Izzy’s face. Even her smiles never met her eyes. It saddened him that she was so miserable, no one deserved that.

“How’s the guitar going?” He knew that was about the only thing that made her happy. Just thinking back to the day he walked in on her on the bus brought a smile to his face. She looked in her element with a guitar nestled in her arms.

“It’s going, I guess.” Y/n looked at him to find that he was watching her fiddle with her hands. “Can I be honest with you?”

The man nodded, fully turning his body towards her to give her his undivided attention. 

 “I haven’t really been able to sleep in weeks. I’ve tried everything and I mean everything. Nothing works and I just lay awake at night starring at the ceiling.” She sighed, running a hand over her face. “I can’t even play the fucking guitar anymore. I literally sit for hours, fucking hours, with it and I can’t do anything. It’s frustrating!”

“You push yourself too much.”

“What?”

Slash laughed, “Y/n, you push yourself too much. I know you don’t enjoy doing our hair and makeup.” Her eyes went wide, she hadn’t known she made it that clear. “It’s alright, I wouldn’t want to either, we are a bunch of assholes. But you clearly are struggling with yourself. Hey, I’ve been there before, so I know it’s not easy.”

He was right, she was pushing herself too much. She was pushing to find something better, to dig herself out of the hole she’d fallen into. Sure, it wasn’t bad, it was great compared to where other people found themselves, but it wasn’t where she wanted to be. And if pushing herself mental to be better, to picture what she wanted, was how she found something better than so be it.

“Does it get better?” Y/n wondered. “Because right now I feel that pushing myself in any direction is better than not doing anything. It makes me feel like I’m getting somewhere.”

He sighed, that was a good question.

“It’s alright if it doesn’t, though,” she told him with a sad smile. “If I burn out over this than who cares, right?”

“I care.”

Y/n bite her lip, turning to the curly-haired musician. “What?”

They weren’t friends, she didn’t want to be friends with the band. They were a bunch of animals that weren’t worth her time, but then there was Slash. After he’d walked onto the bus that one day her views of him changed. In an instant, they were altered and she was unable to get him off her mind. But she would have never thought that he remotely thought about her in any way.

He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure what to say. Should he confess his feels or brush it off that she was important to the band? Y/n was important, without her the band would look like a bunch of pigs. But he’d had feelings for her for a long time and didn’t know how or when to tell her about them. Slash was sure she wouldn’t return them, he’d seen the way she looked at him and the boys, there was no way he stood a chance.

“Can I be honest now?” 

Y/n nodded, hoping that he would explain.

“I care if you burn out, Y/n.” He looked her in the eye, stepping a little closer to her. “I care because I’ve liked you for a while and I just didn’t know how to tell you. I see how you look at us, you're disgusted by all of us and I understand if you want nothing to do with me, but I care if something happens to you.”

Y/n looked into his deep brown eyes, trying to find the lie. She hoped he wasn’t just saying that, that it wasn’t just something people say to make others feel better. But as she looked her over, nothing changed, his statement didn’t waver. 

Her lips turned into a small smile, “What if I felt the same? What then?”

“Well, there’s plenty of things we can do then,” he told her, bring his hand up to cup her cheek. “But I think first we should get you to bed.”

The bags under her eyes were finally visible as the moon moved overhead and it was finally evident that she hadn’t been getting much sleep.

She nodded, leaning into his touch. “Sounds good to me.”

Throwing an arm over her shoulder, the two walked back into the hotel.

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