#light inks in fine nibs

[alphabetboyluvr]

LANDSLIDES - 002 | GUILTY AS SIN - JJK

part title credit: guilty as sin - taylor swift

these fatal fantasies giving way to laboured breath... they don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly... without ever touching his skin how can i be guilty as sin?

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers)

premise: jungkook asks you to dog sit over chuseok. he doesn’t ask you to steal the empty spaces in his head, the dreams he’s yet to have, nor the idea of you always just being ‘you’ to him - and yet, like a thief in the night (with his own damn dog as your accomplice), you do. (part one link)

warnings: slow burn (emphasis on slow, emphasis on burn), miscommunication, missed opportunities, missing jungkook, inappropriate mentions of masturbation between friends, frustration (sexually and emotionally!)

wordcount: 18K

note from holly: this was supposed to be a 30k chunk but the 1000 paragraph limit told me no </3 so instead, this is part 1 - part 2 will come tomorrow :)

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

When Jungkook comes to stand by your desk, his freshly pressed suit unspoiled from his morning commute and with a coffee in either hand, you know he must be up to something.

"Let me guess," you hum. "You dipped your nib in the company ink again and need me to do damage control?"

It wouldn't be the first time, and the new secretary has been ogling him ever since she started just before the Chuseok break. You've joked about it a few times, but you really wouldn't put it past him.

Popping your coffee on your desk, Jungkook toys with his tie a little, smoothing it down. "Why do you always think so little of me, you little gremlin?"

His pouty whine would be believable if you didn't know him as well as you do. Glancing up from your screen, you're greeted with a smirk. Even he can't keep up his pretence of innocence. "You know exactly why."

"I'm a good boy," he promises. "Got you coffee and everything this morning!"

"Because you want something," you laugh. "I wasn't born yesterday, Jungkook."

"Can a friend not get a friend a coffee just because?"

"Yes—but you don't."

In fact, Jungkook normally waits until midday for his first coffee. Treats it like a reward for getting through the morning without any caffeine. He's gone out of his way today—or just ordered coffee to the office to make it look like he has. Regardless, an effort has been made.

He takes a second. Purses his lips. Narrows his eyes.And then he smiles. "Fine. I need a favour."

"See, I knew it was too good to be true!"

"Oh, c'mon!" He laughs. "I'd get you coffee if you asked."

"I asked last week when I was running late, and you told me to wake up earlier and get it myself!"

"Well, it was your own fault for being out until arse o'clock in the morning!"

Your fault, you think but don't vocalise. It's not like you'd been out with him. You'd been on a date. Another with Mingyu. Hadn't stuck to your word of cooling things off. Spooked yourself with those dreams about Jungkook. Needed to bring yourself back to reality.

If he hadn't asked you to dogsit, you never would have gotten so caught in the domestication of it all. It's your biggest weakness and he damn well knows it. If anything, he should be thanking you for choosing to realign your focus instead of leaning into silly little thoughts about him. It also helps that in the cold, harsh light of Monday mornings, the thoughts just make you cringe more than anything.

"Sorry, Dad," you roll your eyes. "Didn't realise I had to ask your permission."

Jungkook's lips purse in the gentlest of ways, corners upturning ever so slightly. He shakes his head. "You're cranky this morning."

"And you're up to something," you reply. Have barely even had a chance to look over your weekend emails yet, let alone prepare yourself for Jungkook being a nuisance. His department is two floors up. There's no need for him to be here.

In the corner of your screen, an email pings through. Though your glance is quick, it connects a flurry of dots together.

Subject: International Food Expo - we're in!

The company you work at is the head office of a chain restaurant. Jungkook works in franchising—negotiations, specifically. Gets the restaurant placed in the best locations. Recently landed a spot in Starfield Mall. Got himself a nice little bonus.

You're over in the interior design team. It's a small cohort, just three of you, but you're responsible for ensuring cohesion amongst all the spaces. It's up to you that customers get the same feel whether they're in Seoul or Sokcho.

Both starting the job at the same time, directly after graduation, Jungkook had approached you with a strategy in mind. Roped you into creating the interior mood boards and mapping out the spaces before they'd even been acquired. Gave life to them that made it so much easier for investors to imagine.

It had been seen by management as a waste of resources before then—why waste time creating hypotheticals?

They just hadn't yet experienced Jungkook, and all of his charm, pitching for them, using your content to tip negotiations in his favour. It's a partnership that works. Is a practice now adopted by the company across the board, thanks to the pair of you. It's why you work together so often, even if you're on completely different floors and dealing with such vastly different tasks.

"I've been asked to go along," he says, nodding towards the screen. "Little old me is our brand ambassador for the week."

"Congrats," you beam, knowing that Jungkook is the best man for the job. He loves the company. Really believes in the restaurant. Clicking into the email, you scan the details. "A week of schmoozing, huh? However will you cope?"

He's about to joke about how tiresome it'll be, but then you hum in confusion.

"Jeju?" You question, looking at the location. You scroll, just to check you aren't imagining things—but there it is, clear as day. Location: International Conference Center, Jeju. "All the way in bloody Jeju?!"

"It's for international markets," he says, putting his best guess out there. "Seoul's been done a hundred times over for different Expos. Busan, too. I think they're trying to attract more foreign companies—and would the CEO's rather send themselves on city breaks or island getaways? Anyway, that's actually the favour I wanted to ask you..."

It all sort of clicks into place, now. "Bam?"

With a sweet nod, Jungkook offers a gentle smile. "You know there's no one I'd rather look after him. The trip is four days, Tuesday to Friday. If it's too much, I can book him into a kennel, but—"

"No," you shake your head. "Don't do that. You know I'm happy to look after him."

"Sure?"

Jungkook would rather die than leave Bam at a Kennel for the week. He doesn't trust anyone with his baby unless they've proved themselves, but the way you happily cuddle up with Bam on the floor of Jungkook's apartment on any given day of the week is proof enough to him that you love him, too.

If he's gonna trust anyone with his most prized possession, it'd be you.

"One condition," you bargain, 'cause you know that you can. Jungkook'll do anything to have you agree.

"Go on..."

"Have you replaced all the cheese I ate last time I looked after him?"

He narrows his eyes. "Yes."

"Good," you beam. "And could you be a babe and make me some of your pad kee mao? The sauce at least? I can do the rest."

If there's one thing Jungkook will never fail to impress you with, it's his cooking—but your favourite of all of his dishes is his Thai drunken chicken noodles. He imports the special basil needed for it. Goes an extra mile to make sure it's just right. You haven't been to your favourite Thai place since you learned just how well he makes the dish. Will just send him a text when you fancy it, and end up at his place an hour or so later with beers from the convenience store and ice cream sandwiches to chuck in his freezer for dessert.

"That it?" He laughs. "Cheese and noodles? God, you are easily pleased."

"I'm a woman of refined tastes," you say, pompously poised.

Jungkook knows you well enough to know you're no such thing, but he needs this favour, so he doesn't bite. Just says, "And you're sure?"

"I'm sure," you promise. "Now leave me alone. I've got work to do—and thanks for the coffee."

He nods, that little smile of his affecting you far more than it really should. You can't help it. The lighting in your office is far nicer than the rest of the establishment. Makes him look... well, makes him look like himself. Like 'home' Jungkook. The same one who hangs out with you in sweats and messy hair on Sunday mornings, not the suited and clean-shaven Jungkook who swaggers through the corridors of your workplace.

Three of you work in your specific office, and you're all interior designers. Changing the bulbs was one of the first things you did. Lea, your manager, is the most senior in your team. Below you is Jiwon. A fresh graduate, she's still learning the ropes, and as much as you like her, you really wish she wouldn't go all heart-eyed over Jungkook every time he enters the room.

It's not her fault. The warm bulbs just bring out all of those terrible, intrusive little stars in his chocolatey brown eyes. They're terrible, 'cause they're stolen from other people; intrusive, 'cause as he walks away and your gaze follows him, it seems like they've landed in your eyes, too. A secret shared that neither of you even realises exists.

"How do you do it?" Jiwon sighs once Jungkook is out of earshot. "I'd melt if he looked at me like that."

"He looks at everyone like that," you deflect. "And trust me, he's just as disgusting as he is charming. Don't let the tailored suits fool you."

It's been a little while since Jungkook last used the copier room for indecent affairs that would have gotten anyone else into a meeting with HR. Workplace violations are far easier to get away with when you're doing them with someone from the HR department, after all.

Jiwon joined the team just as Jungkook was curbing his bad behaviour. Granted, you know about more of it than most, but everyone who was lucky enough to grab his attention for more than five seconds used it as bragging rights for months.

One thing that you did enjoy about Jungkook's slut era was the lack of women he ever took home. Didn't want to introduce new people to Bam, if they were only going to be fleeting endeavours.

But you're his friend, not a casual fuck. He knew that bringing you into the fold wouldn't be fast nor fleeting. It'd be a lifetime kinda thing.

Which is what makes you feel so guilty as you stand by the water cooler a little later that morning, daydreaming about being back in his space again. Silly little thoughts about facetime calls when you were wrapped up in his sheets, and he was back at his parents' place in Busan. Memories of lazing the days away with Bam, and the look on Jungkook's face as he finally arrived home after a few days away.

You've seen him at home a million times over, but there was something different about him then. Serene. At peace. You know that he was probably just happy to be back with his baby, and tired from driving, but the lazy smile that had hung off his lips, round glasses framing his equally round eyes, just seemed... new.

Your thoughts are cut off by your boss—not Lea, but your actual boss, Mr Seo—calling you into his office. A little flustered, you realise that you've been running the water for too long. Your bottle has overfilled, and the excess tray is almost full, too.

"Hi," you greet him all rather pleasantly, waiting to be told to sit before you actually do so. "What can I help you with?"

A burly man in his late 50s, he built the brand from the ground up. It's been his life's work, and so he's selective with his staff. If you aren't pulling your weight to make the company a success, then he doesn't want you tying your name to it.

When you and Jungkook started going rogue in the early days, he hadn't been happy—but Jungkook had blagged a probation extension for the pair of you. Had told Mr Seo he'd work for free, if he could just prove his strategy would work.

In the version of events Jungkook tells you, he pretends that Mr Seo agreed without docking his pay. Filed away in the back of his cabinet which houses his contracts, past and present, Jungkook has a written agreement with Mr Seo, and a month's worth of missing wages in his salary from that year.

Your pay was never docked, though. Jungkook's a damn good negotiator, and was just as competent back then, too. He was the one that got you into that damn mess in the first place, so it was only fair that he keep you as clean as he could.

What you do know is that you both cut it incredibly fine to losing your jobs before they ever really began. While Mr Seo respects you both for what you've done for the company since then, it still scares you a little bit.

"I trust you've seen the email regarding the Expo, yes?" He says, nodding towards the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

You take it in a hurried fashion, quickly sitting down because, quite frankly, it feels like your legs are jelly. "Yes, yes. Very exciting! I'm sure Jungkook will bring the company great results."

He nods. Agrees. "And I also trust you've been making plans for our stand?"

You learned of the expo approximately fifty minutes prior. Like fuck have you made any plans.

"Oh, of course!" You bullshit. "As long as we can work out the logistics with shipping our materials to the island in time, it should be brilliant."

How the fuck you're supposed to plan a stand at an Expo for a week's time on a different bloody island is beyond you.

You'll get it done. You always do. You'll just be incredibly stressed about it until the event begins.

"Naturally," he nods. I know the turnaround is tight, so we'd like you to go with Jungkook to oversee the preparations. He arrives on Tuesday, but the event doesn't start until Wednesday evening, so you'll have a day to finalise things."

"Oh," you say, unable to hide your surprise.

"Flight and accommodation will be covered by us, and Jungkook's getting a healthy bonus for any deals signed at the Expo—I'm sure we can make a cut for you, too. After all, you two are our very own dream team."

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. You want to go. Of course you want to. A trip to Jeju with one of your closest friends? Under the guise of work? All expenses paid? Who wouldn't want to go?!

But without you in the city, there's no one to look after Bam. Sure, Jungkook could take him to a kennel, but you know what he's like. He'll spend the entire time stressed. Won't be able to relax and engage with people in such a way that deals will be cut. Punters usually like him for his carefree nature. Without it? Well, you're sure they'd like him all the same, but you don't want to tempt fate.

"Mr Seo," you awkwardly begin, uncertain which answer will slip out of your mouth. "I'm afraid I already have commitments in the city that I can't cancel. I'm not available."

Silence lingers for a moment. Just a second. It feels like an eternity.

"Very well," he accepts.

"I'm sorry," you quickly apologise, knowing that you probably look like an ungrateful employee. If there's one thing you are, it's a fixer, and so before you can even comprehend what you're saying, you're throwing solutions into the void. "But I know Jiwon is just itching to get more involved with different sides of the business. I can get her on board with my planning this week and coach her on Jungkook's strategies. I'm sure she'd be eager to work hard, if she were given the opportunity."

Mr Seo mulls over your proposition—one of you which you already regret—then nods. "Alright. I'll trust your judgement. Can you send her down to my office?"

"Sure!" You say with a little too much glee, before you retreat back to your office with your tail between your legs. Lea is at a meeting, so once Jiwon has been sent on her way, it's just you, your water bottle, and a whole lot of regret.

Laying your head on your desk, you let out a little whimper.

It's for the best. For the company, for Jungkook, for you. For the sanctity of your friendship. For your sanity.

A message dinging through on your work chat interrupts your self-pity party. Glancing up, head still on the desk, you see Jungkook's name in the corner of your screen.

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: oi you little gremlin

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: i could have booked him into a kennel

"Shut up," you groan at your screen.

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: it would have been fun :(

Sitting up with a sigh, you poise yourself to send a message back. Find that nothing wants to come out. Your fingers hover above your keyboard with uncertainty. Takes a full minute before you can muster anything up.

Two floors above you, Jungkook is slumped in his desk chair. Has an office of his own, 'cause it's easier for the amount of meetings he has.

In the background of his screen, an email thread with Mr Seo details how Jungkook was the one to ask Mr Seo if you could join him. Explained how it just made sense. Offered part of his bonus package up with it. Said he'd cover the extra expenses if necessary, but that he thought it would be beneficial to the company to have you there, too.

While you're the person Jungkook trusts the most with Bam, you're not the only one. He could always ask Jimin or Taehyung before resorting to a kennel.

As your reply comes through, another email from Mr Seo is delivered, too.

RE: IFE JEJU, Interior Des. Department

Jungkook—

Have spoken with Jiwon. She will accompany you.

Any problems, let me know.

Mr Seo

With a sigh, Jungkook shakes his head. This isn't what he wanted at all.

And when he checks your message, he only frowns even deeper. Unlike you, he's renamed your contact details on his list. Everyone else still has their work-focused username.

Gremlin: It's your lucky day

Gremlin: You get a hot young thing to keep you company instead, wooo

Gremlin: HR if you're reading this, ignore it

Gremlin: Try not to be too miserable without me

He sinks down a little further into his chair. Purses his lips. Would far rather be alone than with anyone that isn't you.

Chewing on his bottom lip, he decides that maybe this is for the best. While he does think it would be good for the company, he knows that isn't why he suggested it. He just remembers what happened last time he spent more than a weekend away from you. Is scared it'll happen again.

Or maybe it's the opposite. Maybe he wants it to happen again. Just you and him, away from the confines of life as you know it.

Thing is, you'd have to return home at some point. If anything ever happened between you both, it'd change the very fabric of your friendship. He doesn't want that.

So instead, he decides to reply in the same way he would have done maybe a year or so prior.

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: She'll fall in love with me

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: They always do

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: Don't say I didn't warn you.

In the warm lighting of Jungkook's living room, the main light is off, lamps providing you with just enough clarity to go over the files on his coffee table.

Over by the sink, Jungkook is washing up your plates from dinner, while Bam leans against his legs. Your overnight bag is still by the door, and Jungkook's glasses are in your hair, keeping it out of your eyes. Highlighter in hand, you're picking out key markets for Jungkook to make contact with over in Jeju.

"Avoid Babiyeo," you tell him, switching over to a thin red pen, putting a star next to their name.

"As in the leisure centres?" Jungkook hums, familiar with the company but not well-versed. The soft melody of his playlist carries a tune around you both, keeping your thoughts connected and in sync.

"Mhmm," you say, flicking over to the next paper. "The CEO's son is in legal trouble at the moment. They're keeping it fairly well covered up, but to do that they're making huge expansions they can't afford. Keeping the news positive, things like that. I reckon they'll go bust before the end of the year."

"Shit," Jungkook lets a breathy laugh escape his lips. Had no idea—but you've both got friends working in various industries. Have your arms dipped into numerous grapevines. Drying up the last of his bowls, he turns to face you and is unable to continue on with his words.

He gets it. Understands why domestication is your biggest vice when it comes to feeling things you shouldn't.

"Acorn Limited are also bad news," you add, putting a little star next to their name.

"Yeah?"

Jungkook puts the now-dry bowl on the counter and walks towards where you're sitting on his living room floor. He joins. Sits on the opposite side of the table. Lets Bam clamber over his legs, and encourages him to sit, too.

"Yeah," you nod, then look across at Jungkook. "They're a hot-shot protein company. Are trying to get themselves partnerships with different restaurants. The guy running it is some twat from Singles Inferno. Company'll be done by the next quarter."

"Some of them do alright, y'know. Reality stars are raking it in—"

"He's besties with the Babiyeo CEO's son," you tell him with a knowing smile. "Kept getting pictured together outside clubs. Whatever baby Babiyeo has been up to, I'm willing to bet the acorn guy has been, too."

Jungkook presses his lips together. Accepts your expertise. Nods, then sighs, "You should be coming on the trip. I can't do this without you."

Yes, he can. He's more than capable. Has closed more deals than most people have had hot dinners.

What he means is that he doesn't want to do it without you, but admitting such a thing verges on territory that Jungkook doesn't feel comfortable entering.

In the house he likes to call his mind, he's bolted the door of the annexe. Occasionally, he will sit and stare at the locks. Wonder if maybe he made a mistake locking you—or more specifically, the idea of you—away in there.

But then he watches Bam choose to shuffle around to your side of the coffee table, and watches as he rests his head on your leg. His snout is by your knee, sniffing at your bare skin with his wet nose. There's something familiar about you. Safe. You don't smell like Jungkook, but you still manage to smell like home, in a way.

"Bam would be even more lost without me," you softly say, scratching behind his ear, and it does admittedly give Jungkook a little solace.

"True," Jungkook accepts, then sighs.

It's getting late and he's got to be up early for his flight. Is leaving for his flight at just gone 3AM, so you're staying over. Crashing on the couch, 'cause having a home gym was more important than setting up a spare room. Thankfully you've never known a couch to be so cosy. Have fallen asleep on it a dozen times over, and it's yet to make you ache in the mornings.

It's all very normal, how you set into a routine. He lets you wash up first. Sorts out Bam while you sort out yourself. Doesn't need to, but writes you out a list of feeding times and emergency numbers. Grabs a spare blanket—one Bam hasn't slept on, but by the morning definitely will have—and turns the sofa into something that really does resemble a bed.

"Sure you're gonna be alright out here?" He asks when you come back through.

He ignores the teeny tiny shirt and even tinier shorts you like to call pyjamas. Or at least he does as much as he can. Doesn't mean to look at your ass. Does it regardless. Four times.

"Yeah," you promise, grabbing a bottle of water from his fridge. There are containers full of his speciality noodle sauce and enough cheese to keep you very happy for the next few days. He got an extra block of the one he knows you like the most as a thank you. "Go to bed. Get your beauty sleep, uggers."

"Hey, you need it just as much as I do," he assures you, then tips his head and makes a small click with his tongue. "C'mon, Bammie, bedtime."

The sound of his paws tapping across Jungkook's hardwood floors is ever-so-soothing. It's hard to be in a house with a pet and not inherently feel like home, you think.

"Night night, Bammie," you coo after him. He turns back. Tilts his head, just like his daddy. Trots on over to you for a few more scratches behind his ears. Doesn't leave until you tell him, "Go find your daddy."

Glancing up to Jungkook with a sweet little scrunch of your nose, you hadn't called him that name to take the piss for a change. The scrunch of your nose is actually an outward display of your inward cringe. Jungkook just scrunches his up right back.

"Gross," he whispers, then holds his hand out for Bam to sniff. "Night, Gremlin."

"Night, Kook."

The sharp sound of Bam's bark snaps you awake. The room is dark, but enough light bleeds in through the blinds for you to see Jungkook awkwardly trying to shush him. Rucksack slung over one shoulder, he's holding a bag with his other hand.

"Leaving without saying bye?" You sleepily mumble, rubbing at your eyes with a yawn.

"Didn't wanna wake you," he whispers. Bam, apparently, had different ideas. "He knows I'm leaving."

"What time is it?" you ask, still totally out of it.

"Just gone three," Jungkook says. It'll take him an hour to get across to Incheon, and even though he knows it won't take him much time to get through security, he still likes to be on time. Would have been easier if he was flying from Gimpo, but he's guessing Incheon must have been cheaper.

Nodding, you adjust your body to sit up, and reach out for one of the files on the coffee table. Hold it across for him.

Popping down his bags, Jungkook takes it with great interest.

"Here. I was having a think before bed. Did a little research on an American company that's gonna be at the Expo. Their head marketer has shares in a bunch of baseball-related companies. Get pally with him," you mumble, thoughts not really cognitive, but you've written it all down for him regardless. "Talk to him about the K-league, or something, I dunno. I reckon Mr Seo would shit his pants if we expanded into stadiums and sports venues."

Jungkook flicks over the notes. Nods. Doesn't know how the fuck you manage to find out half the shit you do, but knows you're wasted on the interior design department.

"See," he softly whines. "This is why you should be coming with me."

"You'll be fine," you promise him, then yawn a little bit all over again. You woke up at the worst possible time.

"You can take my bed, y'know," Jungkook offers. "I'll be gone in a minute or so. It's all yours."

Would be weird getting into his bed while it's still warm, you think.

Shaking your head, terribly covering a yawn, you insist it's fine. He begs to differ, so you double down—until all very suddenly, your notes are tossed onto the sofa beside you, and Jungkook is pulling you over his shoulder. Yelping from the surprise, you don't have time to cognitively respond, let alone demand to be put down.

He wouldn't listen anyways. Instead, he walks you across to his room, and tosses you down on his half-made bed. It's a little haphazard, he finds himself leaning a little too far forward. Almost ends up on there with you. Finds that his blood pumps just a little faster through his veins for a nanosecond.

God, he wishes he wasn't leaving.

Or that you were coming with him, at least.

Can't bear to tear himself away from you when you're all sleepy and sweet and—Oh get a grip, man.

"There," he says triumphantly, pushing his thoughts well out of reach. "Now, go back to sleep, alright? I'll let you know when I fly."

Sitting up on your heels, you find yourself unsure of how to say goodbye—and so you don't really say much at all. Just mumble, "Fly safe."

"Will do," he nods, then exits his room to give Bam a farewell that is just as rough and tumble as yours had been. "Be good for the gremlin, Bammie."

"Fuck off!" You call through, knowing that you'll forever be known as a gremlin, even on your deathbed, you're sure. Tucking yourself under his duvet, you're secretly comforted by how warm his bed still is. Smells just like him, too. "Bye Kook."

"Sleep tight!"

With that, the door slams shut, and everything feels a little colder. Bam whines by the door. Scratches at it a little. Begs for Jungkook to come home.

"Bammie," you call through. "C'mere!"

The way he excitedly bounds through Jungkook's apartment and jumps up onto the bed is borderline comical. He's not used to people being in the house after Jungkook goes out. Thought he was alone—but now he knows he's not, he's quite content. Nuzzles his snout into the duvet and flops his body down on yours. Doesn't realise he's not still a puppy, but you don't mind.

Moments like these make you realise that you definitely did make the right decision.

But moments that come a little later fill you with regret—like the picture that is sent to the office by Jungkook on the work messenger. Working hard or hardly working? He captions it.

The photo is of the booth that's been set up to look like a beach house version of the restaurant. The intention was for it to look like a 'Jeju' branch, of which you're yet to open— but it looks bloody fantastic. How you were able to wrangle contractors and suppliers in such a last-minute rush was nothing short of a miracle.

And yet—

Good work guys!

Wow, looks great!

Jungkook and Jiwon, doing us proud!

Dream team! Good luck!

It's that last one that really bothers you. Dream team. Exactly what you and Jungkook have always been called in the office—but you're easily replaced, apparently. It's your own fault. You're the one who said she should go instead.

It doesn't stop you from walking around with a face of thunder for the whole day. Not a scrap of work gets done. All you can do is lament your choices.

Still, you get to go home to Bam, and that does admittedly soften the blow.

"Show me him," Jungkook immediately whines when he calls later that evening.

You shake your head. "Tell me about the day first."

"That's so not fair."

"Quicker you tell me, quicker I show–"

"Fine," he scowls at you, but softens his expression almost immediately. Yawns. His shoulders press up to his ears as the rest of his face scrunches up. He's lying down on his hotel bed, the crisp white sheets not too dissimilar from his ones back home that you'll be curled up in later that night. "The set up was fine. Most of the vendors are here already. I'm so mad we didn't manage to snag a slot in the catering tent, yanno? Give people a chance to try our menu, but whatever. There's always next year, right?"

"Right," you nod. Yawn, too—and then adorably so does Bam. "It's our first year there. We're just making our presence known. Bigger and better things next year."

"Exactly. Now show me Bam."

His impatience makes you smile. You're just about to tap the switch camera icon, when a sweet, feminine voice echoes through your speaker.

"Did you say something, Jungkook?"

He glances over the sound of the voice, and then flicks his eyes back to you. Gets a read on your face as quickly as he can before you flip the camera, 'cause you're not really sure how much your face is giving away, but you know your surprise wasn't hidden.

"Er, no," he says to the girl. "Just checking in back home—"

"Oh, is that your puppy?" the voice, of which you know all too well, squeals. There's a slight ruffle of sheets as Jiwon tucks herself beside Jungkook. Hair a little damp, the straps of her top are loose against her skin. "Oh my gosh, isn't he the sweetest."

"Isn't he just?" you reply with a smile so fucking fake that it's a good job the camera isn't on you. There's a look on Jungkook's face that you don't really understand. He almost looks guilty—but there's nothing to feel guilty about. He can do what he likes. "Gonna take him for a walk in a bit, then I'm just gonna pop out for half an hour to see Mingyu."

"Are you taking Bam with you?" Jungkook asks, brows a little hard, the ridge between them nicely defined.

"Hadn't planned on it," you chirp, your face just as hard as his. "But I can take him to meet Mingyu, if you like?"

Jungkook swallows. Tries to pretend as if his jaw isn't tense. Is incredibly stern when he says, "Rather him not meet new people when I'm not around."

"Sure," you say, then flick the camera back to you. Are pleased to see nonchalance sitting prettily on your features, no matter how perplexed you might feel."I should be off, though! Call me if you need anything."

"Wait!" Jiwon says quickly, clearly unaware of the weirdness between you and Jungkook. She sees you bickering all the time, so must just figure this is what you're like when you're not ripping each other's heads off. "Just wanted to say thank you—I'm so glad I'm here."

Jungkook's eyes focus on your face as Jiwon gives even more thanks. He doesn't understand the sudden attitude you've developed. All he wanted was to see Bam, but you've a face like a slapped arsed and are trying to hang up. It's fuckin' rude, and if Jiwon wasn't there, he'd tell you so.

He lets you hang up. Doesn't ask you to stay.

"She alright?" Jiwon innocent chirps after you go. "She seems a little..."

"Just tired," Jungkook dismisses. "I woke her up at like, three this morning when I was leaving."

"Oh? She was at your place?"

It's really none of Jiwon's business, but Jungkook chalks it up to her being young, and unaware of when to keep her mouth shut.

"Yeah," he states definitively and plainly, ending the conversation. Heads to the bathroom to clear his head. Turns the shower up to just as hot as the one at his house has been ever since you left his apartment the last time.

'Cause Jungkook's been lying to himself.

There's no lock on the damn annexe. Or at least not from the outside.

The annexe has everything he needs. He's been sitting there, inside, quite comfortably with you for a little while now.

He really did think you were gonna call things off with Mingyu.

Is unaware that Mingyu got left on read four days ago after another dull, fruitless 'how was your day', 'fine thanks, and you?' conversation. As hot as he may be, he doesn't challenge you. Excite you. Anger you. Make you feel any kind of passion.

Which is funny, 'cause you find yourself reaching for a bottle of wine that you know is far too expensive for a Tuesday night glass, just to piss Jungkook off from afar and well in advance of him ever realising what you've done.

Just like you mentioned going to see Mingyu just to get a reaction out of Jungkook.

Childish as it may be, you feel threatened. People praising Jiwon in your place already made you feel insecure at work, and now she's in his hotel room in a state of near undress? Something about it just irks you.

It shouldn't.

It shouldn't, it shouldn't, it shouldn't.

But it does.

And so you spend your evening on Jungkook's couch with cheese, wine and Bam. Put Love, Rosie on, 'cause it's your favourite guilty pleasure film and you think it'll cheer you up.

Instead, you end up silently sobbing by the halfway point, Bam only snuggling into you even further. Can understand that you're upset. Comforts in the only way he knows how.

Sleep is hard to come by that evening. You're full of wine and cheese, so it should be easy. Lights out as soon as you close your eyes—but you toss and turn, and with every move, the scent of him wafts even deeper into your senses. Any further and it might just enter your bloodstream. Seep down into your heart.

By the time morning comes, you feel even more rotten than you did the night before. Have slept on it all. Know that he hasn't done anything wrong, which only makes you feel even more stupid for being so annoyed.

You've also slept on the idea he might have slept with Jiwon. It wouldn't be out of character, but it would be the first person in your department he's shagged. It's always been out of bounds. He knows this. For the same reason you wouldn't shag anyone he works closely with. It'd just be weird. Make meetings uncomfortable.

When you call on your walk that morning, you half hope he won't pick up.

But he does. He always will.

"Hey," he says a little breathlessly. A towel is whipped over his shoulder, sweat dappling his skin. There's something so devastatingly beautiful about mid-workout Jungkook. "Sorry, didn't think you'd call."

Almost as if you're looking for reasons to be annoyed, you take offence to this.

"I always call?"

"Well, yeah, but you were so fuckin' weird last night," he laughs, heading out of the gym and into an empty corridor of the hotel.

"I wasn't anything," you reply back with a scowl—and realise how terribly you're hiding your annoyance. Flick the camera over so it focuses on Bam as he trots along the path. "Just tired."

It's the same excuse he bullshitted to Jiwon. Knows you're talking bollocks.

"Even Jiwon asked what was wrong with you—"

"Oh, well I'm terribly sorry to have inconvenienced you, Jungkook," you snap, completely unjustified. It's too late, though. You've started. Have to see it through. "But if you don't mind, I'm responsible for your pet right now and I'd rather not be having this conversation when I need to be focusing on a million other things at once."

"Fine," Jungkook snaps right back. All he wants is to see Bam, but he doesn't want to be having this conversation either. "But you know what? Don't bother calling back until you've taken that stick out from up your arse."

You shouldn't be surprised when Jungkook hangs up.

But you are.

For the second time in as many days, you find yourself crying. 

Oh, it's all so pathetic! And stupid! There's no need for it, you think.

Thankfully you're not too far from home—Jungkook's home, that is—so you can cut the walk a little short as long as you come home at lunch to check on Bam, too.

You don't even really understand why you're fighting with him. Wish you weren't.

When Jungkook zips open his suit bag as he's getting ready for the Expo opening ceremony, he finds himself wishing just the same.

Tucked on top of his blazer is a brand new tie; one of which he most definitely did not put there. 

An incredibly muted bronze and black paisley pattern swirls over the material, and on top rests a note.

Jungkook rubs his face with a flat palm. Rakes it through his hair. Swallows back the awkward heat prickling at his eyes and the tickle in his throat. Doesn't wanna bawl.

But then he reads the note, and he just can't stop himself.

Dad!!!

You're gonna do great!!!!

Come home soon tho :(((((

Woof woof!!!!!!!

Your Bammie <333

P.S. I'm colour blind but the gremlin said this one is the same colour as me!!! Do you miss me??? I miss you!!!!!

The first time you had ever learned of Jungkook's tattoos was in a dive bar a few blocks over from work. It was just after you'd pulled off your first deal together—the one that set your working relationship in stone—and you'd both been blowing off steam.

The walls were red, and so were your cheeks, blushed from the heat of what it felt like to sit beside him in a tatty booth.

So used to sitting across from him at meeting tables, something about it changed your dynamic. Any threats of being on opposing teams were whittled down to nothing more than a life that could have been.

He had your back. You had his.

Blazer off, his sleeves were rolled up. You didn't ask him about a single one of the tattoos, like he half thought you might. 

Instead, you just accepted him as he was. Didn't stroke your index finger up his arm, tracing the lines, like most girls do as an excuse to get better acquainted with him.

That night he made a promise to himself to never ruin the working relationship you have together.

You work too well to jeopardise it. He has goals. Knew, even back then, that you'd help him achieve his aspirations, like some sort of twin flame type of shit he didn't believe in.

Didn't. Past tense.

These days, when you think of Jungkook and his tattoos, you always think of the snake. It's the one you see most frequently for it's so close to his wrist. Have always understood snakes to represent change.

Jungkook is yet to shed his skin. He's still just the same as he always was, you think, as you get in the lift and head up towards your office floor.

Just 'cause he hadn't hooked up with anyone from the office in a while didn't mean that he'd changed his ways. More fool you for thinking that he might've.

And it's not like it even matters at all. Who he lays down with is none of your concern. You've never cared before. Not really.

It's just that you've been going to sleep in his sheets. Eating dinner he prepared in advance for you. Waking up to his pup excitedly doing zoomies around the room, 'cause he's ready for his walk.

When you get home, you put Bam's leash up next to your coat, which is hung on top of Jungkook's. Kick your shoes off by a pair of his. Use his shower gel when you get washed, and wistfully tuck yourself up into the armchair you helped him pick out for his bedroom. It's tucked in the corner. Is perfect for watching the world roll by.

You know you should have just called him this morning. Spent the entire walk stubbornly hoping that he would instead, but he's just as childish as you are.

You've bickered with him a hundred times over since you first met him, but never like this.

The elevator dings to a stop, pulling you from your tiresome thoughts of Jungkook. Pulling your body from its slumped leaning stature against the mirrored walls, you trudge into a place that endlessly reminds you of him.

Impossible to escape, is Jungkook. Perhaps that's it. Maybe you've just had enough of each other. Need a little time to breathe.

Everyone else who started at the company around the same time as you has already left. It's just you and Jungkook still here from the small pool of fresh graduates that had been taken under Mr Seo's wing.

But you like it here. Like your job. The salary you earn is great—far more than you would get anywhere else.

Again, you don't know this, but Jungkook's always negotiated on your behalf behind closed doors. He makes the company far more money, and does admittedly get a pretty huge bonus every year according to the amount of deals closed.

That being said, he also stomps down to Mr Seo's office in the fourth quarter when news of the next fiscal year's raises are shared. Will demand that your base salary is matched to his. Has threatened, on numerous occasions, to call for a pay disparity audit from external forces if your wage isn't boosted up, even if it means his is cut down to make up for it.

You went out on a limb trusting him in the early days. This is how he repays you.

That's just friendship, though, he thinks. You help him, he helps you.

He also knows you'd probably be annoyed if you ever found out he meddled with things like that.

The girls in the accounting office always think it's so lovely whenever they see the pay increases. Yours and Jungkook's are never quite what they should be, and they know exactly why. It's why they always ask you how he is whenever you go to drop off inventory reports and materials lists with the lead accountant.

You think they just fancy the pants off him.

Which is also true.

And it's also why a couple of them are curiously standing outside your office space, giggling like school girls as you approach it.

"Morning," you smile, then laugh a little too at their giddy excitement—but when you turn the corner and realise what they're so smitten over, you're a little lost for words.

Sitting on your desk is quite possibly the largest bouquet of flowers you've ever seen. Peonies, you think from afar. Pretty and pale pink, they're in a glass vase. Two dozen easily, if not more, blooming just for you.

"Oh," you hum, because it's hardly what you expect to walk into on a Thursday morning.

Mingyu flashes through your head, but you haven't heard a peep from him since you last let your conversation dissolve over the weekend. He has no reason to send you flowers.

But nor does anyone else.

"We tried working out the message," one of them admits. "But whoever your secret admirer is, they're hell-bent on keeping it secret!"

Shameless, you think, suppressing a well-natured laugh. They've got balls to admit that they've read the note.

Walking to your desk, you see it sitting atop of the flowers, and read it for yourself.

Anyone reading the note who knows a single non-superficial thing about the mystery sender would know who it is in a heartbeat. All it takes for you to know is to see the name of who it's addressed to.

Bammie—

She's right. It does match you. When I get home we can dress you up in my new tie.

Tell the gremlin that you deserve head scratches.

And extra treats.

And that I miss her.

Glancing over to the girls, who desperately want gossip, you simply shrug. If they've never heard Jungkook talk about Bam before, then they clearly don't know him at all. If he wanted his name on the note, he'd have put it there.

He could have gotten them sent to his apartment. He chose here. But he also chose anonymity.

And so you give him a little grace.

"Your guess is as good as mine," you bullshit with an apologetic smile that no one believes.

Lea just looks at you from across the room with a raised brow. Waits until the girls leave, then says, "That's not the kind of bouquet you send a colleague."

She already knows you're looking after Bam. That being said, she hasn't read the card. Has no idea what it says. Just knows that there's only one man you ever talk about with such warmth to be deserving of those flowers from.

"Apparently it is," you shrug, all but confirming who sent them with a coy smile.

"I hope he lets Jiwon down gently," Lea sighs, knowing just as well as you do that she's got a bit of a thing for Jungkook.

What she doesn't know is that it's the exact reason you're fighting with him.

Hell, even he doesn't know that!

So deep in your denial, neither do you.

"Why would he need to?" You downplay it all. Lea doesn't know about the awkward call Jiwon inserted herself into, or the fact you've already decided that he must have fucked her. "Like I said, apparently these are the kind of flowers sent by just a colleague."

Lea shakes her head. Has been observing you and Jungkook for years. Was waiting for a Christmas party, or one of those nightmarish summer tennis tournaments for the pair of you to finally figure it out. You're just as thick as two wooden planks when it comes to all of this, or so it would seem. A little push might be needed.

"Colleagues don't send flowers just because," she tells you with an air of authority. "And if I know anything about the stories you've told me, Jungkook doesn't send flowers full stop."

Just like that, you're thinking of those damn tattoos again. The snake, specifically.

Maybe, just maybe, he is changing.

And if you weren't confused before, then you sure as hell are now.

During the summer months, Jungkook often goes home to see Bam at lunchtime. It's not uncommon for you to go with him. In the winter, when the temperature of his apartment is less of a worry, Jungkook probably only goes home for lunch once a week or so.

Walking up to Jungkook's apartment in the middle of the day without him feels a little bit wrong. In one hand, you're holding a peony by its stem. In the other, you're clutching your phone just in case he calls.

In all honesty, you had planned on taking the entire vase back, but it was bloody heavy. You'll wait until he's back in the office.

It might just be paranoia, or the misplaced assumption that everyone is obsessed with what Jungkook does, but you swear there have been far more people passing your office today than usual. People you've seen maybe once or twice in your entire lifetime.

Lea was right. Jungkook doesn't send flowers. 

Has a repeat order going monthly for his mother, but that's it. And even then, he's kind of forgotten about it.

You've debated it with him before; flowers and their presence in relationships. 

He thinks a potted plant would be far more practical, but if he was really going to get someone something, it'd be herbs. Maybe a potted mint bush. Something useful that they could enjoy together.

A few weeks ago, you had told him he'd make an awful sugar daddy.

"Well, yeah!" He'd just laughed. "I save my money for myself. Me alone. If someone wants nice shit, they can get their own job."

"Oh, so you'd never treat a girlfriend?" You'd scoffed, forgetting the fact he never really has girlfriends. Just flings. "Never get her nice shit?"

"Well, that's different," he'd said. "It's not transactional."

"Everything in life is transactional, whether people like to kid themselves it is or not."

Jungkook looked affronted when you said this. You'd had differing perceptions of life for as long as he'd known you, but you'd always been a romantic. Always believed in the prevailing nature of love.

Bam had adjusted in his sleepy position. Curled up a little tighter, then stretched right out. Rested his hind paws on your thighs and tucked his nose into his chest.

"Bam disagrees," Jungkook assured you.

"You trained him using transactions," you reminded him regardless. "Rewarded him with a treat every time he did as you asked. Transactional."

"Okay, but this?" He gestured to where Bam was curled between the pair of you on his sofa. That's always been a rule of his. No sofa for Bam—he's got all the beds he could ever want! But when Jungkook is on the sofa, it's the only place he wants to be, too. "He knows he's not supposed to be on here. He knows he won't get a reward, so why is he up here? It isn't transactional. He just—"

"Is playing you for a fool," you had laughed. "He wants to be on the sofa, so he lets us pet him in return for us not shooing him off. He's the one setting the transaction up. You're the one getting the reward. He's playing you at your own game. Aren't you, baby?"

You'd cooed a little, scratching at Bam's thigh. He shook it ever so gently and readjusted, but didn't stop resting against you.

It was a curious thought; the way that nothing in life ever comes for free. Even the favours you do for Jungkook by dog-sitting are transactional. You get just as much out of those days as he does.

The conversation had mellowed into something else, 'cause Jungkook didn't want to get into a debate. Knows that you can defend your point until the cows come home—has been in enough meetings with you to know as such. Likes being on your side 'cause you always win—and with a negotiator like him to seal the deal, it's always so much sweeter.

As the calling screen of Jungkook's contact details takes over your screen, phone resting against a wine bottle on the coffee table, you wonder how transactional this is.

He gave you flowers, and now you're giving him a call.

Anyone with a rational mind would surely ask: is this not how romance works?

But when he accepts your call, and you're met with a stern face that's desperately trying not to smile, you're reminded of what he really is: your best friend.

Neither of you wants to be the first one who cracks and gives in first, even if you both know this is all so stupid.

You reach over to pick up the peony. Hold it in front of your face. The petals have bloomed so spectacularly that it almost eclipses you.

Jungkook's face scrunches up a little, his terribly hidden smile slightly distorted but ever so hard to hide.

"Will you stop hating me now?" Is all he says.

"Never hated you," you grumble, bringing the flower a little lower, but still in frame. Sitting on the floor, your back is to the sofa and Bam is behind you, right where he's not supposed to be.

If Jungkook is bothered by it, he doesn't mention it. "I missed him this morning."

The guilt that crawls into your stomach and makes itself at home is rancid. Anguish is her name, and she loves nothing more than ruining a good thing.

The frown that steals the pretty smile from your face isn't one that Jungkook enjoys seeing on you, no matter how cute it is when your eyebrows pinch together.

"I should have called," you acknowledge, knowing that it was cruel of you not to, even if you were fighting. "I'm sorry."

Jungkook just smiles. "I assumed the stick was still up your arse."

Narrowing your eyes, you're pleased that he's joking with you; that things feel normal.

"It's fine," he dismisses regardless. "Last night was the opening event so I was a little worse for wear this morning, and then Jiwon was rummaging about at fuckin' six in the morning. Took her fuckin' hours to get ready."

And there it is; confirmation that she's been sharing his bed.

Though you don't frown, there's a stupor to the muscles in your face. The brightness you were looking at him with fades—and very quickly, Jungkook becomes the one who looks unhappy, now.

"What?" He says, genuinely a little confused.

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.

You just shake your head. Dismiss it. Flick the camera around and lift your phone to focus it on Bam as you give him a little scratch behind the ear.

"He's been good as gold," you begin to waffle on. The ridge between Jungkook's brows deepens. "Best boy in the doggie park, aren't you? There's a new couple who have just started walking a Yorkie. Yappy little bugger. I don't think Bam's a fan."

"No," Jungkook supposes. "He doesn't like yappy dogs—and I don't like it when you deflect. Show me your face, gremlin. What's going on?"

"Nothing!" You insist, but don't flick the camera back. Just get a little more boisterous with Bam, and while it does make Jungkook smile, he can't shake the horrible feeling that's building in his diaphragm.

Your Anguish has a cousin who goes by the name of Confusion, and she adores wrapping herself up in men who fail to communicate in a way that is healthy.

"C'mon," he softly says. Flicks his camera around. Shows you an empty hallway of the convention centre. Says, "I've left Jiwon in charge at the height of the day just so I can answer your call. Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"You didn't have to answer," you grumble.

Jungkook is smarter than most. Will have clocked the time of day and knew it was lunch. Definitely assumed you must be with Bam. It must be why he picked up.

Flicking the camera back on himself, Jungkook is almost at a loss for what else he can say to get you to open up.

A little honesty is needed.

And so you pout. Mumble, "They're calling you and Jiwon a dream team in the office."

Jungkook's frown intensifies as his dewy pink lips rest ajar. You'd say he looks distressed, but that's far too intense of an emotion for such a childish qualm.

He just knows that if he heard your partnership with another colleague—especially one in his department—being referred to like that, he'd take offence. It's you and him. You're the dream team. Always have been.

Shaking his head, Jungkook doesn't hide his contempt. Scoffs. "Fuck off. Dream team? She's using your strategies at a booth you designed, and even then, she's barely doing that—you know Acorn guy? The one you said to steer clear of? She's gunning for him—"

"Oh, you're kidding me," you gasp in disbelief. You warned her that he's bad news, multiple times. "Him?!"

"She's young," Jungkook says with a little judgement. Is scared of turning thirty, but definitely doesn't understand people who are closer to twenty. "He's just some hot guy on TV, to her. Doesn't realise his business is gonna tank. She isn't thinking about it long-term."

Which is funny, 'cause Jungkook never really used to think about things long term, either.

Sure, with investments and saving his money, he's always been a little cautious. When it comes to the business, though, it's someone else's money he's playing with. He takes risks. Does dumb shit and it gets rewards.

He really is incredibly good at his job, though. It's part of the reason the women love him, you always think.

It's not.

They like him because he's kind and also so bloody hot he should be on billboards, not in boardrooms.

You like him because he's competent.

In fact, you think there's nothing hotter than a competent man who just knows how to get shit done. And when said competent man can cook like Jungkook? Cares for his dog in the way he does? Looks like he does?

Sigh.

You ignore the way he looks a lot of the time, but you've a pair of eyes and a part of your brain that recognises attractive men. It's hard to ignore all of the time.

"Anyway," he shakes his head. "Not important. She's perfectly fine if not a little misguided—but she isn't you. So, stop worrying about it."

You take a second before you reply. Flick the camera back to you.

It surprises Jungkook, how Confusion has travelled through his bloodstream. Her bony fingers toy with his heart, and he's taken aback by just how sharp her nails are.

Looking at you never used to feel like this. He's not sure why it does now.

You muster up a little courage, even if you can't bring yourself to look at him properly. Let out a deep sigh. Now or never. You run the risk of causing another fight, but if you don't come clean, it'll only dirty everything.

"I just thought we kind of had an agreement, Kook," you eventually whine with an ever-so childish pout.

The hands that have been tearing at his heart migrate through his bloodstream. Get into his brain. Get into his house. Opens doors. Begins moving the furniture.

Stay out of the annexe, his thoughts hiss at Confusion.

Still he seems perfectly calm when he asks, "Watcha mean?"

He's not making this easy for you.

In fact, you'd say he's making it difficult. It would be far easier for you if he just acknowledged what he's already done.

"Well, just..." you take a moment or so to think about how it can be phrased with any dignity—and then you think fuck it. "She's in my department, Kook. I always thought you wouldn't fuck anyone I have to directly work with. It just makes it awkwa—"

"Woah, woah woah," he interrupts. Confusion sits on his shoulder, now, with a twisted smirk on her greyed-out face. "Wouldn't fuck anyone? What the hell do you think I've been doing?!"

"Well, I mean, it's less what and more... who," you joke a little too flippantly.

You don't think he's ever looked so offended in the entire time you've known him.

"You've got to be kidding me."

If anything, you're a bit surprised by just how offended he is. Jiwon is an incredibly pretty girl. A little young for him, granted, but not abhorrently so.

"What?!" You reply, equally confused, then relay everything back to him. "She woke you up this morning getting ready? Was in your room when I called you? Fucking got on your bed right in front of my face and cosied up with you to look at Bam."

Admittedly, that last one was said with a little venom. It annoys you the most.

"She woke me up this morning from across the room," he counters. "Was in our room because we were a last-minute addition to the convention, and it was the only room left within a ten-mile radius—twin beds, may I add! If I don't even share my bed with you when I'm at home, then what the hell makes you think I'd share one with her?! Yeah, the call thing was weird. I'm not gonna lie, it was, but I answered when she was around because I didn't want either of you to get the wrong impression."

A smile wobbles on your lips, as you try to remain stoic. Either of you. You know that you apparently got the wrong end of the stick—but you're not entirely sure what he means by either of you. You wonder what impression he's trying to give her, then decide it's not important.

You clasp your hands together. Lean forward. Put on your best noble old man voice, and say, "Well, it appears that it might have just happened, regardless."

Confusion's perch on Jungkook's shoulder is knocked loose when he laughs, though those sharp nails do claw onto his back. Leave scratch marks that will take a little while to heal—what's important is that they will.

One day, this awkward misstep will be something you laugh about. Kind of like he is, now. You'll forget your tears, but you won't ever forget the strange feeling of weight lifting off your shoulders, mind eased by Jungkook.

"You're a fucking idiot," he laughs with such fondness it almost doesn't feel like an insult. "Seriously? You thought I fucked her? And was then, what? Trying to brag about it? C'mon, you little gremlin! Give me some credit."

Never before has 'gremlin' ever sounded so kind. So warm. So much like 'darling', or 'mon amour'. Secret code for unspoken words.

"I don't know," you whine. Bam shuffles a little bit on the sofa behind you, turning his face away from the noise. You reach back to scratch his head as an apology. Jungkook smiles. Your care for his baby is so innate that you don't even realise you're doing it. "Her hair was damp, and she was practically falling out of her top—"

"Oh, but what I am supposed to do?" He laughs. "I can't tell her to cover up in her own damn room, and even then I just ignore it. I didn't sleep with her. I'm not going to sleep with her. Okay?"

He's not even thought about it. Feels nothing when he looks at her. No excitement. Even if she is attractive, he doesn't think his body would work properly.

Hasn't been working as it should do for the best part of a year now.

Or maybe it would better be referred to as 'malfunctioning'.

'Cause it seems to work okay when he thinks about you.

He 'malfunctioned' earlier on that day, as a matter of fact. Was just showering. And he missed you. And was thinking about those damn pyjama shorts. How smooth your legs had been when he'd hoisted you over his shoulder. How pliant you'd been as he chucked you down into his sheets. Your sleepy eyes and the 3AM husk to your voice. Fuck.

Even thinking about it in a dingy hallway of a convention centre, with your pretty face smiling at him through his phone, is making his heart race. If he doesn't get a hold on it, he'll go into cardiac. Might just flatline.

"Look, I gotta get back, okay?" He softly says. It's not a lie, but it is more sensible than he wants to be. "Have to make sure Jiwon hasn't sold the company to the acorn guy. There's a networking event tonight, so I can't call during Bammie's walk, but I'll check in at some point."

"Alright," you nod, a little sad to see him go, but understanding of it. "Hurry up and come home. Bam misses you."

"I miss him, too," Jungkook pouts. "Show me my baby before I go."

Phone angled to fully capture Bam, you indulge Jungkook for a few moments before he really does have to go. He lingers for a second or so after you say goodbye. Can't muster up anything good to say to make you stay.

Holding the stem of the single peony you'd taken home with you, you roll it between your thumb and fingers. Watch the petals twirl.

"What should I do, hey, Bam?" You wistfully sigh, eventually getting up to pop it in a glass of water. Jungkook has no vases, for he's never had any need for flowers.

The peony isn't the only thing blooming in his kitchen these days, though. It hasn't been for a while.

Work passes slowly that afternoon. You want to get home. See Bam. Finish off the wine you opened so that Jungkook doesn't scold you for letting it turn into vinegar when he gets back. And then you wanna sleep—just so you can wake up the next morning and take Bam on his walk.

It's not like that isn't part of your agenda tonight, too. It's just that Jungkook won't be around for that one.

Instead, his evening is spent in fancy rooms with men in even fancier suits and women who take a fancy to him, too. A whisky is in his hands at all times, his pretty lips embroiled in conversation. He talks so much he barely has any time to drink.

People gravitate towards him; those who feel threatened by his charm gravitate towards Jiwon. Mistake her for a prize he's trying to keep. Don't realise his unbothered facade is anything but a facade.

It's gone midnight by the time he's kicking off his shoes with a little wobble as he gets to his hotel room.

"I'm being serious," he almost giggles, phone between his shoulder and his ear as he loosens his cufflinks. "It's a wig. I'm positive."

280 miles away, phone on your tummy, loudspeaker on as you gaze up at Jungkook's bedroom ceiling, you're laughing too.

"It can't be," you protest the current topic of conversation—Mr Acorn (as he's now affectionately known between you both) and whether or not his hair is real. Jungkook had left Jiwon to continue her poorly judged perusal of him, in favour of checking in with you instead. There was no one else at that party he wanted to talk to more than he wanted to talk to you. Laughing and joking about stupid shit, he's glad you answered. "He went swimming on Singles Inferno!"

"So?!" Jungkook snorts, tapping his phone over to loudspeaker too and tossing it down onto his sheets. A little haphazard, he's unbuttoning his shirt. Is a little tipsy, but not enough to warrant any huge issues. "Maybe he used industrial strength glue."

"Surely he'd rather people just know he was bald? Start a trend?"

"Maybe he's got a terrible head tattoo," Jungkook theorises, tossing his shirt across to a chair, before finally discarding his pants, too. Is just in his boxers now as he clambers into the sheets. "Bald eagle. An ex's name. I dunno. But I'd take chemical burns over that."

"You'd never get a girl's name tattooed on you," you laugh in response. Legs tucked up, heels to your ass, you let your knees gently sway. Bam is curled up in his own bed by the foot of Jungkook's. You're not on facetime, mainly 'cause Jungkook clicked the wrong button, but it's also nice not using poor Bam as an excuse to talk to you.

"And I'm also not balding, so we don't have to worry about that."

"Are you not?" You hum, just to wind him up. "I swear there's a patch of missing hair—"

"Shut up," he cuts you off, voice just as fond as it is stern. "I will swim all the way back to the mainland and speed run up to Seoul just to shut you up. Don't speak it into existence. I have great hair."

"Mmm," you hum. Sinking a little further into his sheet, you turn on your side. Take him off speaker. Hold your phone to your ear. Look at the empty side of his bed and wonder what it'd be like if he were here. Know better than to indulge it. "And you are just so modest, too. Absolutely no ego whatsoever."

"It's why the ladies love me," he jokes, not realising just how true it is. Jungkook takes a moment before he says anything else. Is comforted by the silence you leave for him, totally unaware it's because you're not sure how to respond. "Not that it matters."

Though his delivery is soft and airy, like feathers falling from a well established nest, it lands in your chest with a heavy thud, like a stone from a bridge. You couldn't swerve in time. It shattered your windshield; plummeted straight into your heart. 'Causes a pile up on the freeway, all your thoughts held behind a tongue that cannot speak.

"You tired?" Jungkook hums down the speaker when a response never comes. "I'm sorry, I can let you go?"

"No," you say incredibly quickly considering you've been leaving your side of the conversation empty. "No, sorry. Just can't believe you're actually behaving yourself. Who are you, and what have you done with Cassanova that normally takes a hold of you after a few drinks?"

He's right here, Jungkook laments, knowing better than to act on the way he's been feeling lately. Just says, "Maybe I'm maturing."

"I find that hard to believe," you tell him. If the tiktok psychology gurus who have taught you everything you know about modern men are anything to go by, his brain should have finished fully developing about a year ago.

And while Jungkook would tell you to get fucked and that his brain was already fully developed, he knows that if he sat down and really thought about it, maybe it'd hold some merit. Afterall, it's been about a year since those first thoughts about you started creeping into his mind house.

It's only recently that he's been flirting with that damn annexe door, but he's been aware of someone in there for a while, now.

"What?" He smiles down the phone, resting an arm on his bare abdomen, looking up at the dark ceiling of his hotel room. "Maybe I am. Maybe shagging random girls doesn't excite me anymore."

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

"Yes," you insist, but there's a smile on your face.

There's something about his denial you enjoy.

It's why you're arguing against him. You wanna hear him deny it again. Tell you he doesn't care about other girls. You don't necessarily want him to care about you beyond what he already does. Or at least that's what you tell yourself.

"No," he simply replies back. "I'm not."

"So if Jiwon—"

"Why are you bringing her up again?" He's smirking, now. You can hear it in his tone. "Are you jealous?"

"Jealous?!"

"Yeah," He insists, just like you had been earlier. "You don't like the idea of her sleeping with me."

Incorrect. You don't like the idea of him sleeping with her.

"Well, no," you admit. "But because I work with her—"

"That's not it," he fights against you. Knows that you didn't go and see Mingyu when you said you would, and also now knows you said you would after you thought he'd slept with Jiwon. He might not be able to read women's minds, but he's learnt your M.O. pretty well over the years.

"You're drunk," you whisper, trying to hide behind the alcohol that both of you have in your systems. Neither of you are in any position to make sensible choices.

"Tipsy," he corrects. "And so are you. Go on. Be honest. Tell me."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Yeah, there is," he whispers, his words far braver in sentiment than they are in sound.

You swallow. Can't work out if he's just teasing you or not. "There's nothing."

The silence in the room around you is deafening. It's like all you can focus on is Jungkook, and the way you imagine his lips pouting together at the end of each sentence he speaks. Pretty and pink and—

"So you've never thought about it?" He interrupts your thoughts with a question you're unprepared for. 

"What?" You reply a little dismissively, as if it's an outlandish think to consider.

But Jungkook doesn't buy it.

Has been driving himself insane.

Knows he can't be the only one—and if he is, then maybe he really is insane.

"Us," he replies as if it's water off a duck's back. Simple. Easy. "You've never wondered what it would be like?"

"Kook..."

It's like playing chicken. Both too scared to cross a line for fear of it changing the entire fabric of your lives.

But you can acknowledge something without acting on it. Confirmation means nothing; it's the choices that follow which really mean something,

"Yeah?" He husks. His sleepy eyes are pressed shut, his voice a slow drawl. "What is it, huh? You want me to admit it first?"

You almost laugh at how dumb this whole conversation is. You're friends. Have been for years. Colleagues. Just... Well, just you and Jungkook. He's never thought about you like that. You're certain of it.

Yet still, you ask, "Well, have you?"

He doesn't reply immediately. You half think he's drifted off to sleep, proof that he'd had too much to drink to be having a conversation like this.

But then you hear his breathy little laugh through the speaker. You know he must be nibbling down on his bottom lip as he smirks. The sound is so familiar you can picture it. You wish he was here. Want to see it. Feel it.

Fuck, you curse yourself out. This is not good.

And Jungkook's only gonna make it a whole lot worse.

"Yeah," he quietly admits, keys in one hand and padlock in the other as he stares at the annexe door in his mind. Wide open, there's no going back now. Only forward. "I think about it all the time."

Bam nuzzles the side of his head against your tummy as he adjusts into a slightly more comfortable position on Jungkook's bed. The sheets are a mess from all your tossing and turning, your body plonked right in the middle of his mattress. There's no his side or your side anymore. You've made it yours, and Bam has joined in.

He shouldn't be on the bed. You know this, he knows this. You're both disobeying Jungkook. Are in this perfectly innocent sin together, and will face the wrath of Jungkook as a unit.

There's never really much wrath that comes from Jungkook. He's the type to smirk and laugh in the face of the people who've wronged him. Believes in karma. Fate. He draws the lines at horoscopes, though. Thinks they're bollocks. Smiles, still, when you blame shitty things on Mercury.

The only time you've ever seen him angry—nostrils flaring, jaw tense, agitated beyond compare—was when some guy wouldn't stop hitting on you in a bar. You'd told him no a dozen times over and he just wouldn't listen.

It still pisses you off that he listened to Jungkook without hesitation, but you also know it looked like Jungkook was gonna break his nose. You're far less intimidating when you're annoyed. Jungkook laughs at you whenever you get frustrated. Says you're cute—or at least as cute as a Gremlin can be.

You've got a similar look on your face now, all perplexed and bereft. If he were here, he'd be teasing you, trying to make you crack a smile.

Annoyingly, you know he'd be able to.

You're staring up at his ceiling, early morning light seeping in through the gaps in the curtains. The world you wish to ignore today rudely intrudes on you regardless.

It's his karma, you think.

You disobey Jungkook, the world disobeys you.

With one hand resting on Bam, the other is tightly clutching your phone. For the past five minutes, you've been locking and unlocking it like a wind-up toy drummer.

To call, or not to call, or whatever Shakespeare said.

The faint hum of a wine-induced hangover buzzes between your ears, but it isn't so bad. Probably because you didn't really have that much to drink.

If anyone asks, you'll say you had a bottle.

And by anyone, you mean Jungkook.

If Jungkook asks, you'll laugh— We had a call? Are you sure? —and he'll laugh too— Yeah, we were both pretty drunk —and you'll both pretend like he didn't say the words that he did.

Pulling the pillow he usually sleeps on across to your face, you press it down. Scream into the padding. It's not loud enough to alarm Bam, but it is enough to make him cock his head.

It wouldn't have been so bad if it had only been Jungkook's lips that were loose last night.

The issue is that yours were, too.

You wish you didn't remember all the words you'd said. The way you'd told him to shut up.

The way he'd hummed, "Oh, come on. You know you think about it, too."

The way you'd said, "I do no such thing."

He had laughed. Said you were a liar.

You'd protested. Said it didn't matter anyways, 'cause you both know it'd never work.

"So you have thought about it," he'd teased.

"Briefly."

"How briefly?"

"Like a matter of minutes—"

"Okay, rude," he'd pouted through the receiver. "I last way longer than a couple of minutes."

"You're disgusting," you'd laughed at the way he'd made it all about sex.

For all he knew, you could have been talking about a relationship—but you're right. You both know it'd never work, so of course this is about sex.

"You the one who's thought about it, though," he'd flirted through the phone. Biting down on his bottom lip, the darkness of his hotel room had slipped him into a fatal state of hedonism.

There was a beat of his heart. One. Two. Still no response from you.

He knew you were thinking about it. Thinking about him. Decided to push his luck. Had almost whispered, his fingertips trailing down his torso, as he chanced, "Do you ever think about me when you touch yourself?"

Silence continued to linger for longer than it should have, until you finally just whispered, "Kook."

"Yeah?" He'd smirked.

"You can't ask things like that."

But he can, and he did, and your lack of an answer was an answer in and of itself.

He wasn't even really after the truth. He just wanted to get under your skin; burrow himself down into the deepest, darkest, most depraved corner of your brain. Revenge, he thinks, for that damn annexe you've assigned squatters rights to.

You set up home in him? Fine . He'll do it right back.

"So this is what I am, huh?" You'd replied, with a little faux chip on your shoulder, trying to deflect from yourself. "Just another office girl for you to fantasize about?"

There's always been a challenge to you that Jungkook has liked. You're sparring partners. Will bicker and argue and end up laughing over it all. It makes for excellent brainstorming meetings, 'cause you're always trying to win. You bring out the best in each other, even if it is in a bid to do the opposite.

Jungkook had sighed. Weighed up his options. Rested his hands over his boxers, only to find himself far too entertained by the conversation. It wasn't a surprise, nor was it unwelcome.

The frequency of his thoughts about you had been doubling, tripling, quadrupling ever since Chuseok.

His bed has become a pit of sin in recent weeks; nobody but him in the shrouded decay of a mind-house he's been neglecting in favour of the annexe shared with you.

He already knows just how bad it's gonna be for him when he returns home, and the pillows are dented by your crown, the lingering scent of your perfume wrapping around him just like he knows his hand will be around his cock. Tight. Strong. Firm. It's your name he'll whine, just like it was when he was in the shower earlier that morning.

God, it's gotten so bad.

He needs to stop before he ruins everything.

It's not like sex is an uncommon topic of conversation between you both. Casual vulgarity had been a tool used to bond with; a taboo way to tease one another. It's always been casual. Uncalculated.

It's different, now.

In the darkness of midnight, the stakes were raised almost as high as your heart rate.

"You think so poorly of me," he'd whined, a teasing smile on his lips. It wasn't rare to hear Jungkook address you so playfully. In fact, it was a common occurrence—yet it felt strange, this time. "You know you're not just another office girl."

"Do I?"

"You should."

"I don't," you'd shrugged into his sheets. "Tell me, how am I different?"

The distance between you made a flirt like this safe. Immediate consequences were null and void, and the alcohol in your system didn't seem to care for it either.

"I can't tell you."

"Sure you can."

"You don't wanna hear it," he'd promised.

"Try me," you'd challenged.

And then Jungkook admitted something he knew far better than to confess, but couldn't seem to help himself. He just wanted you to know that you were special. That you were different.

That you are different. Are special.

"None of the office girls have ever made me cum in my own bed."

It came out far less sweet than his brain had told him it would, but it was still a compliment, he thought.

"Jungkook!"

"What?!"

The way you both kind of shrieked at each other only amplified the shock of the confession, but also did well to hide the way it excited you, too. Got you hot beneath his sheets. Aroused.

"Don't say things like that," you'd scolded him with a laugh, playing it off as a joke. "I'll report you to HR."

"You'd do no such thing," he'd smirked down the line. Matched your energy. Played it off as an incredibly obscene, vulgar joke. Will turn his nose up if you ever ask him if he was telling the truth. "And anyways, the HR girls love me. You'd be fighting a losing battle."

"You're awful," you'd told him with such a tenderness that suggested you really didn't think that at all.

And so he smiled. Decided to cut his losses. Agreed. "Yeah. That's me."

The conversation dissolved into casual chatter until you both made excuses about being tired, or needing to sleep off the alcohol.

Yet both of you would spend the next hour awake, staring at your respective ceilings. Occasionally, you'd look to the space reserved for him in his bed. He'd do just the same. Would look at Jiwon's empty bed and lament the fact that it wasn't you on the trip with him.

He never should have asked you to watch over Bam—but there really isn't anyone else he'd rather have in his apartment.

Then he's thinking about you all over again, in his home, hair claw-clipped like it so often is, and how cute those little pyjama shorts of yours would look peeking out from the hemline of one of his shirts. He wonders what you're wearing; if it's your bare skin against his sheets. Wonders if he sleeps naked after he gets home, if it'd feel like your arms are wrapped around him; if the scent of your perfume would sink into his skin.

It doesn't take long for the thoughts to become lewd. He thinks of your lips, and how they'd part with a gasp if he were to stroke your skin with his fingertips. Thinks of your waist, and what it would feel like to hold. Thinks of your body in a way that really ought to get him fired.

How his lips could drag across your skin; the wet pink of his tongue learning where you liked to be touched. How he'd guide your hands. The words of approval he'd use— Yeah, like that. Oh, fuck. Yeah, just like that, baby. You're so good at that aren't you, huh? You know how many times I've imagined this? You're so much better. G'na make me cum, babe. Keep going. You want my cum, yeah? Yeah, you do. Oh, fuck—

"No," he sharply scolds himself, tearing his thoughts from you and his hand from his thick, impatient cock. "Fucks sake, man. Get a grip."

Wanting you like this is selfish, he thinks. Selfish and stupid and— God —so fuckin' dumb.

He also thinks it's your fault. You're an interior designer, after all. Have made that stupid annexe feel more like a home than the rest of his head ever has. Added candles and cushions. Hung pictures on the wall; turned off the main light in favour of warm lamps that just make him wanna curl up and fall asleep with you on the sofa.

It's so different, this little annexe in his brain, to the apartment that he actually lives in.

If he were to assess it thoroughly, he'd realise that the annexe looks just like your apartment.

But he hates your place. Has never been shy about telling you so. Hates all your nicknacks. Hates the clothing rails you use instead of a proper wardrobe, and the way your beside table is actually just a stack of books you're yet to read. Hates how there's always a cosy blanket within touching distance, and how it always smells like black cherry candles. Hates how firm your mattress is, even if he's only ever slept on it once, fully clothed after you'd both had way too much to drink after a tight work deadline.

He also hated how he didn't wake up with an aching back like he usually does. Hated how sleeping in his own damn bed began to feel wrong, and how nowadays it only feels right during those first few days after he returns from trips; when it still smells like you and the rings you take off your fingers in the night are still tucked beneath his pillows.

Kind of like they are now, as you finally decide to stop being a miserable cow and just get up. You're normally the one who calls him, and it's typically always when you're walking Bam. Last night had been an anomaly. There's no reason for him to call you, now.

It's when you're showering that your phone lights up. Only briefly. Messages, not calls.

JK: can't call this morning, gotta head to the exhibition hall early

JK: give my baby a head scratch from me

JK: send me pics!!

JK: of bam

JK: none of you

While the vomit emoji he adds onto the end of the final message is a little uncalled for, it's actually kind of a relief that he doesn't want to call. Having to face him right now, when you're in such a sorry state of confusion, would have only made the situation far worse for you.

At least that's what you tell yourself.

Your face when you walk into the office, and the state of despair Lea seems to find you in, would suggest otherwise.

By half past ten, you've managed to wrangle Jungkook into conversation eight times.

It's not until you mention him in relation to Jiwon that Lea seems to notice.

"Okay, so?" She laughs. "Everyone knows you and Jungkook are like a package deal. She isn't taking your spot—plus, you're her senior . If she tried to undercut you, do you think anyone would want to work with her?"

It's a good point, but you don't really care to listen to reason right now.

"But it's not undercutting," you pout. "You saw everyone in the group chat. Dream team. "

The way your voice heightens in pitch and nose turns up as you utter the phrase is nothing short of hilarious, and Lea makes sure to let you know.

"You're being a big old baby about this," she laughs again. "Jungkook's gonna come back, relay all of the deals he's set up, and then he's gonna whisk you up to his office to spend the next two weeks drawing up plans. I doubt I'll even see you!"

Admittedly, in the busy periods, you'll work at his desk. In the big chair. The special one he got after his first bonus. The one on his side of the desk. He'll work on the opposite side—the client side—with his laptop.

It's caused a fair amount of confusion before, whenever people have come to his office. Your nonchalance about it all makes it seem totally normal. Most people don't question it anymore—and if they do, you just say the programme you have to use runs better on his computer than it does on a laptop.

Which isn't a lie.

But you could always just work at your own desk.

The issues is that Jungkook likes to keep you close when he's working. Makes it easier for the random questions he blurts out that you're always ready to answer. Annoys him to no end when you're not there and he has to go off and find you.

By the time he finds you, the question is always half gone or you start blathering on about something completely irrelevant and he forgets it anyway. It makes him antsy not having you close.

Neither of you seem to realise it's not normal.

"Look," Lea sighs, minimising her tab so that she can give you her full attention. "You're the one who suggested Jiwon should go. It's just work! You're acting like a jealous girlfriend—"

"No, I'm not!" You gasp. "Don't be absurd!"

"Well, whose apartment did you wake up in?"

"That's hardly—"

"Whose?"

"I mean— Well— His, but —"

"Who was the first person you spoke to this morning?"

"Okay, that's not fair. I'm looking after his—"

"Who was the last person you spoke to last night?"

You pause. Narrow your eyes.

Lea just smiles.

"At least tell me you're in the spare room and not his bed," she jokes—but when she notices the look on your face, her smile drops. "Oh, you're kidding me! You know what you're like when it comes to domestication ! You're bloody nesting , aren't you?!"

"Oh c'mon," you scoff. "I'm not an animal!"

"Uh, yeah," she says, dumbfounded. "You are. That's the issue with humans. Too many bloody primal desires—"

"I do not have a primal desire for Jungkook!"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you've never thought about it."

"I haven't!" You assert, eyes locked on hers. It's almost believable. Or at least it is until your lips begin to twitch. The look of shock on her face is borderline offensive. "Oh my God, shut up!"

Lea's face scrunches up in revulsion. Shoulders to her ears, she whispers, "He's a whore !"

"Okay, that's not nice."

"But it's true!"

Sighing, you slump into your chair. Push your pout up to your nose, and then sigh even deeper than before.

Looking across at Lea with such perplexity anyone would think she's just asked you to design interiors for a rocket ship, you decide you absolutely cannot let this confusion get the better of you.

"It's fine," you assure her. "He's coming home tomorrow evening. Once I'm out of his house, I'll be way more rationable about things."

"You sure?"

No.

"I'm sure."

As Jungkook places his rucksack down beside a bar stool in an airport lounge, he can't help but feel like he's doing something wrong.

It's dark outside, and the dim lights of the bar give way to a seedy intimacy that he's always loved about places like this—how fleeting they are. The casual embrace of a stranger's stare can linger for hours afterwards, consuming his thoughts for an entire flight.

Yet the only people he's even looked in the eyes of tonight have been the airport staff checking him through. Even as he asks for a whisky, he barely registers the woman behind the bar.

Placing his phone down, he also discards the lanyard that's been around his neck. He forgot to take it off before heading to their airport, and just popped it back on after going through the scanners.

It's not like he needs it now. The conference centre is miles away.

He's still in his business suit. Left quickly. Just confirmed with Jiwon that she didn't mind him catching an earlier flight and in all honesty, it suited her better. Jungkook had been so annoying about Acorn guy the entire time. Kept telling her it was a waste of energy, and no business would come from her pursuit of him. She wanted the chance to prove him wrong; to achieve something by herself.

"Are you Leaving early, too?" An American accent drawls from beside him, immediately grabbing Jungkook's attention.

A burly man with greying hair takes a perch on the stool beside Jungkook. Nodding towards the lanyard, he holds up his own. Mitch Ellis his tag reads, and instantly Jungkook is reminded of the folder you had handed to him before his departure.

"Did a little research on an American company that's gonna be at the Expo. Their head marketer has shares in a bunch of baseball-related companies. Get pally with him."

The opportunity hadn't arisen. Jungkook barely even had time to breathe, let alone seek out some elusive American businessman—yet here he is, in the flesh, approaching Jungkook.

Sucking a little air between his teeth, Jungkook nods. Laughs. Says, "Got a family to get back to."

What. The. Fuck.

He doesn't know why on earth he said that, he just knows he can't take it back. A family. For Christ's sake! It's not just the abandoned house in his brain that's rotting—it's the whole damn thing. Stupid .

Pursing his lips in approval, Mitch nods. Lends an expression that Jungkook can only assume means he respects the answer.

"Family man," he says. "Don't see many of them in the industry these days."

Jungkook shrugs. Continues on with his bullshit. "I love my job, but home's where the heart is." Or at least, it's where his dog is. Of course, he loves Bam more than he cares to articulate—but a man and his dog surely don't constitute to a 'family'. "You off early, too?"

"Wife and kids tagged along for the trip," he nods, then quickly asks the barmaid for a whisky, too. "Promised I'd take them to Lotte World tomorrow."

Jungkook grimaces. "Ooft, on a Saturday?"

"The crowds that bad, huh?"

Gritting his teeth, Jungkook tips his head from side to side, then says, "Get magic passes for the family. It's worth the extra price. Trust me."

He'd never dream of going to Lotte World on a Saturday.

In fact, he doesn't dream of it full stop. Grew up going to the Busan franchise, and would opt for it any day of the week. Everland would be his second choice if couldn't be bothered for the drive. But never the Jamsil Lotte World. It's always rammed .

"I swear, kids—" Mitch shakes his head "—All they do is bleed you dry."

Jungkook smiles. "I'm yet to reach that stage, but I can imagine."

Mitch looks appropriately confused. Did Jungkook not just make up a bullshit imaginary family? Surely he hasn't faltered already?

Jungkook clarifies, "Going home to my girl and my dog. No kids—or at least if I've acquired one over the last couple of days, it'll be a surprise."

He doesn't know why he said that.

My girl.

Oh, God. He's going insane. He must be. This is ridiculous.

Those stupid dreams of his had already started migrating into daydreams. Now, they're being spoken into reality. This is terrible. Really, truly, awful.

Mitch has an easy ten, maybe twenty years on Jungkook.

His hair is greying, and there are lines embedded into his skin that tell stories of the life he's lived.

While it's his career Jungkook would typically be envious of, he finds himself jealous of Mitch's personal life. Wife. Kids. God, he hates the conformity of it all, but there's an ache in his chest when he thinks about all that he doesn't have.

And it only worsens when he thinks of you and Bam.

"Ah, young love," Mitch nods, again seemingly in approval of Jungkook and his 'choices'—which is bizarre, because Jungkook wants to punch himself in the face. "Make the most of it. You'll be longing for the good old days once the kids come."

It's too late for Jungkook to correct himself. Too late to admit to the truth. To say 'lol, jk, im single, just fancy the pants off my coworker.'

The thought of it all makes him want to hurl. Fancy.

He's never admitted his crush before, not even to himself. Oh, this is all so awful.

And so Jungkook panics. Says, "Hopefully we've got a couple years before then. We're both at the same company, so we're trying to figure it all out before doing anything we can't take back."

What is wrong with you?!

"Oh?" Mitch chirps, encouraging Jungkook to continue.

"Were interns at the same time," Jungkook begins to overexplain, as if it makes it any better. He's speaking a crush into existence that he isn't even sure exists, and declaring it as love of some sorts? Oh, this is really barbaric. He might throw up. Maybe if he pretends to faint, he can get out of this situation. He thinks it would be less mortifying. Yet, still, he continues! "Have gone up through the ranks together, but are different departments."

Why is he still talking about you?!

Oh God, his head is gonna explode. It's like you're building an extension on the annexe. He never gave you planning permission, and yet there you are, concrete trowel in one hand, a brick in the other. You're so pretty, he thinks.

Get a grip!

"HR nightmare," Mitch laughs, then leans a little closer. "Truth be told, it's how me and the missus met—I worked for her Daddy's company. Thought I'd be fired on the spot when we told him."

"But I'm guessing...?"

Mitch nods. "I'm now their longest-serving employee and am set to take over in the next five years," he laughs. Thankfully, it all worked out. Hopefully, the same'll be said for you and your missus."

Jungkook's lips curve into a tight-lipped smile. Decides he has to change topic, or otherwise he might just self-implode. "Yeah. Fingers crossed—anyway, I don't think we had a chance to speak at the conference, did we? What's your company?"

As if Jungkook has earned a gold seal of approval, Mitch nods his head over towards a couple of chairs that overlook the runways. Picks up his whisky. Begins to walk away. Says, "I was about to ask you the exact same thing. What did you say your name was again? Let's talk."

"Jeon Jungkook," he grins, picking up his whisky, finally forcing you out of his brain. "Yeah. Let's chat."

"Bammie," you whine into Jungkook's pillows when the sound of his paws excitedly clattering across the floorboards wakes you. You can't have been asleep for very long. A couple hours, tops. "It's not time for walkies yet."

Burrowing yourself deeper into Jungkook's sheets, you try and drown out the noise–but it's fruitless. Not only is Bam too cute to ignore, you worry that there's something wrong.

Sitting up, eyes all beary, the dark nothingness around you clues you in on the fact it's definitely the middle of the night. Pushing the duvet off your body, you swing your legs over the side of the bed as your phone begins to vibrate. Jungkook's face takes over your screen, and a frown takes over yours.

Part of you wants to ignore it. Wonder if maybe you've already slept through it ringing out, and that's what woke Bam up.

At this time of the evening, Jungkook should be at the afterparty. It's unofficial, and not endorsed by the convention, which only means one thing: people are getting legless.

He'd sent you a message earlier on in the day saying that Jiwon was still trying her absolute hardest to bag the Acorn man, after an unsuccessful attempt the night before. You wonder if he's wing-manning her.

Bitterly, you wonder if she's cut her losses. Turned her attention to Jungkook, instead.

He's probably shitfaced by now.

Part of you worries he'll want to continue the conversation from the night before. You're too sober to even consider flirting.

Sliding across to answer, you hold the phone to your ear and you begin to walk in the direction of wherever Bam may be.

"Yeah?" You croak down the phone, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

"You sound chirpy," he teases.

Bizarrely, you think he sounds sober. "Fuck off."

"Charming. Undo the bolt on the door," Jungkook demands down the line, but there's almost an echo, as if he's just in the other room or something like that.

Your feet softly pad into the living room, the darkness not much of a hindrance. You know his apartment like the back of your hand; the veins, the freckles, the grooves dappled in your skin below your knuckles. All it takes is a couple of steps for you to reach the light switch, and absolutely zero thought for you to flick it on.

"Hm?" You mumble a confused sound as light bursts into the room. Your eyes squeeze together, a groan catching in your throat. Blinking once, twice, you adjust quickly. Spot Bam by the entryway, looking up at the door expectantly. One of his paws taps at the steel, a soft whine trembling on his lips. Turning your attention back to Jungkook, you say, "What?"

"'I'm home, gremlin," Jungkook softly smiles down the phone. "Let me in."

"But it-" You begin to protest, knowing that his flight isn't until tomorrow.

Jungkook doesn't care to explain himself. Is just as tired as you sound.

"Let me in."

You don't need to be told twice.

He's home.

It shouldn't make you feel the way that it does, all warm and content.

But it does, and for a moment, you let yourself indulge in the sensation of welcoming Jungkook right back to where he belongs.

Hanging up, you place your phone on the kitchen counter, reaching out to scratch Bam's head when you get to the door.

"Is it daddy, huh?" You ask him as he continues to paw at the door. There's a small metallic click as you unthread the bolt, which is quickly replaced by a robotic beep as you press the easy-release button for the latch.

Before you can even properly open the door, the handle is being pressed down from the outside. The sound of Jungkook's hushed voice echoes into the hallway instantly as he coos over Bam just to wind him up a little before he can see him.

"Who is it, Bammie?" He asks through the door, and you already know exactly what he looks like—smile so large it takes over his entire face.

You help to push the door open, and find that there's sunshine in the middle of the night in Jungkook's hallway.

"You're home," you sleepily smile as you watch Jungkook crouch, arms wide and all-encompassing as he greets Bam in the most boisterous of ways. He's not making any sense. Isn't saying any words. Just lets noises rumble from his throat, of which Bam somehow seems to understand.

In a way, you understand it too. The mental translation is a bit patchy, but you know it's something along the lines of, I've missed you so much Bammie, Daddy's home now, let's never spend time apart ever again.

Glancing up to you, that daylight smile hanging off his lips, Jungkook's got a glisten in his tired eyes.

Maybe you haven't adjusted to the light as well as you think you have, but there's something different about Jungkook. Something that's making your weary heart work overtime. It's all a bit strange. All a bit lovely. All a bit terrifying.

"Yeah," he tenderly agrees, hands scratching behind Bam's floppy ears as his eyes fondly meet yours. How could he ever stay away? "Home."

part three to be uploaded tomorrow <3

[rivertinghaze]

May I request a Rohan x Vampire! Reader? Since vampires can't see their own reflections, i thought it would be cool if rohan drew reader!

seen through an artist's eyes | rohan kishibe/vampire reader

rating: general; content: gn reader, meet-cute(?); genre: fluff, slight vampire angst, light character study; word count: 2145

summary: You meet a manga artist that makes it his own personal mission to unravel the mystery behind your seemingly-too-normal existence, and he sees you for what you are. 

masterlist ☆ requests open.

Life in Morioh is quiet. A nice little town with nice people, sometimes a bit boring, but comforting in its consistency. There's not much to see or do, aside from the parks and the restaurants or occasional festival, but you've gotten used to it over the years. Quiet, peaceful, mundane life.

It is, truly. You've been trying really hard to fly under the radar for many years. Enough, certainly. You've made mistakes, you've loved people and had to let them go. You've built houses and turned them into homes, abandoned them when they began to grow cold and empty with rotten memories and empty halls.

But you keep trying to make it work – really make it work. Live life like a normal human being, even if you're not really one. At least pretending isn't too hard nowadays; so you do it. You go to work, grab drinks with friends on the weekends, keep up with the local news, pick up a new hobby from time to time. Try to ignore the covered mirrors in your house as you pass by them, haunting you like phantoms. 

(You've wanted to throw them away, but can never bring yourself to it. Sentimental value, you suppose. A pathetic reminder of a time long gone. And you've learned people give you weird looks when your bathroom doesn't have one, so you compromise again – one more in a long string of them.)

You've built a good routine, one you're quite proud of. Rohan Kishibe dismantles it within a single meeting.

A row of fine graphite pencils spread out before you in the cozy art store, walls lined with tubes of paint and brushes, craft paper, carving tools, colored threads. The smell is a tad overwhelming, but you do your best to ignore it. A friend from work gifted you a nice, leather-bound notebook after her holiday trip to Thailand, so you allow yourself the indulgence of buying a few expensive writing tools – something nice but practical, unwilling to let the thoughtful gift go to waste.

"This brand is shit. The charcoal always smudges unless you have special paper for it." A smooth voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You notice your hand has been hoovering above a container with neat, dark-tipped pencils, just about to reach and grab one.

"Oh." You frown. "What's a good one for writing?"

The pretty stranger grins, throwing himself into a detailed explanation regarding the different textures and weights of the options in front of you. You notice he's pretty, just like you notice birds sing or that the sky is blue yellow. 

His voice is nice, confident in his words, but not boasting. Not meant to belittle you or your lack of knowledge on the subject – there is passion that bleeds into his tone, the way his eyes shine in the sunlight peaking into the small shop, the deliberate movement of his fingers as he points out negatives and positives of each option. You decide you like it. The way his fountain pen nib earring dangles as he moves is charming.

The chance encounter in the art supply store leads to an oddly endearing coffee date. It was supposed to be only one – that's what you promised yourself. But when the artist sets his mind on something, there is seldom one can do to stop him from his goals. You've come to understand that about Kishibe, and it's a trait you admit to secretly enjoy.

One date become two, become four, become casual hangouts at his house, watching him work on his newest volumes, watching him breathe life onto pages with nothing but ink. He enjoys the curious eyes that focus on him while he works. You enjoy his eyes, the color of leaves in spring, full of determination and brilliance and life.

Truth is, something about you strikes him odd the first time he sees you. He's a good judge of character, but he can't quite place it that day, what makes you stand out to him, your frame shadowed by colored markers and canvases – but, his intuition has never failed him. 

So, he pursues you to sate his own curiosity, at first. A little side-project to help him bounce off ideas, have someone from the outside give their perspective on his work after a particularly annoying period of dull work. A mystery he wants to get to the bottom of, because, after all, how complicated can it really be? You're just another face in the crowd, another regular person that just so happened to catch his attention for a short time. He doesn't think it will lead to anything much – fleeting moments of domesticity and human connection that will inevitably fade away naturally over time. On the third date, he decides it's your eyes. There's something in the way they light up with something vibrant, something that reminds him of the warm caress of the morning light. He keeps focusing on them whenever your attention is elsewhere.

It's a lazy evening spent in his living room, and he grows embarrassed when he realizes he hasn't processed a single word you've said in the past few minutes – you're telling him about a cute nature documentary you've watched recently, he thinks – but instead, he's entranced by how intense your gaze is, no matter what you're looking at. Like it pierces through his very existence when you're looking at him, pins him into place like a delicate butterfly on a collection display.

(He secretly contemplates just what colors he'd have to mix together to get the shade of your irises just right.)

"You're doing it again." His words are careful, measured. Like he's planning something mischievous.

You tilt your head in confusion at Kishibe's remark. His gaze is completely focused on you, catches you off-guard. You were sure he was only half-listening to your rant, more focused on his own work than anything; you didn't mind supplying background noise. But that's not the case now.

"I'm doing what?"

"Your eyes." His fingers beat rhythmically against the desk, one after the next, "They keep glowing when you talk like that." 

Shit. Like what? "Hmm. Must be the lights reflecting –" He's already turning off all the lights in the room, leaving only a single lamp in the corner that glows a soft orange. You silently curse the man and his audacity, the effortless way he manages to tear down your walls while barely doing anything.

"And, they're red now. How thrilling." Fascination and concern lace his tone, but it's short-lived. 

You exchange secrets that night. He takes it so much better than you could have imaged, and you chalk it up to the fact he's a creative soul that accepts any crazy ideas presented before him. And while you cannot see Stands, you know of them – seen their bizarre powers in action, in the aftermaths they leave behind. 

(You cry when you go home later that night, feeling more free and more seen than you've felt in years.)

He's both annoyed and proud of himself when he finds out about your true nature. Proud, that he was right in his analysis of you, that there was something different, after all. Annoyed, that it makes him all the more interested in you because of it – it happens slowly, then all at once. The vampire part draws him in like a drowning sailor, thirsting to know more, to see, to touch, to experience. Then, he notices all the parts you try to hide behind crackling walls, and it makes him want to spend more and more time with you. Simply for your presence, a constant he's getting dangerously accustomed to.

Rohan notices a lot of things. He catalogues them in a certain part of his brain, stored away to use however he sees fit. It's a part of him, and a part of being an artist, you've come to understand, that he wants to know so much about the world and the people around. That there's something special in everything. Something worth seeing. You just have to uncover what you've hidden away.

(Maybe that's what draws him to you. He watches you watch other things. The way you interact with the world, it feels genuine, unique, heartfelt. He soon comes to understand, that it's because you cannot see yourself. A cruel vampire's curse – they can never reflect on themselves. To be depraved of such an experience, is a torture in itself.)

So he draws you. He doesn't ask if he can. Doesn't ask you to pose for him. He simply does it.

It's so easy. Why is it so damn easy? – a thought that unknowingly plagues the both of you in the lonely moments when you're waiting to see each other again.

Even now, the hunger is always there, present at the edges of your consciousness. But you've learned to dull it over the years. You've made it your own, and you control it fully. There is absolutely nothing that could give away the fact that you're not human.

"C'mere, I want to show you something." It's a soft, warm evening, and you're draped like a lazy cat on his plush couch, mindlessly filling out boxes in a crossword magazine. His words draw your attention to him, and his heart does something weird when you look at him like that. (Like he's the only thing that matters in the entire world right now.)

"Ooh, did you finish a new page? Another cool double-spread?"

"I drew you."

You have no need to breathe anymore, but the words knock the air out of your lungs mechanically. Blinking at him like he's telling you something incomprehensible, something utterly outrageous. Words seem to be difficult for both of you right now; he nods, encouraging you to approach, while he grabs one of his sketchbooks and thumbs through it until he finds the page he's looking for. 

(It's filled with many more pages of you, quick but sure brushstrokes of you doing mundane things. Glimpses of you – a smile when you see a puppy on the street, a pout when Kishibe uses your body as a cooling blanket during the hot summer nights and you pretend to be annoyed, a laugh at one of his brash jokes when he makes fun of a teenager's ridiculous sense of fashion. Your hand, intertwined with his, holding it so carefully, like he's something precious.)

It makes him lightheaded, when your shaking fingers grasp the sketchbook with reverence and your eyes widen immediately. He's not worried in his work, of course – his craft is perfect, every single time. He wants to be seen, above all else. It's what he chases in life. But there's something so special in the way you see him. He's never felt that same energy before, a steady but addicting thrum in his veins that makes him want to show you more and more.

"Rohan," You whisper, breaking the stillness in the room, "This is…" It's intimate, it's delicate, and oh so easy to break. But you're both so gentle. There is no worry – only quiet, confident acceptance. 

It's a portrait of you, facing three-quarters to the left. Your eyes move quickly across the details, masterful and clean, and at first, you do not recognize the person. He's telling you it's you, but that doesn't feel right. Have you truly forgotten the details – the slope of your nose, the arch of your brows, the angle of your cheeks and jaw, the quirk of your lips – or are they warped by the perception of someone that looks at you the way Rohan Kishibe does?

You find you cannot bring yourself to want to know which is true. Saltwater gathers at your lashes, and a tear travels across your face. Then another. And another. 

"Wow. First time my work has brought someone to tears, I think." His words are teasing, but his warm hands are soft as his thumb brushes away the tears. "Still, I shouldn't be surprised. I manage to even impress myself sometimes, isn't that so, sweetheart?"

Smug fucking bastard, making you laugh even now. "Thank you." While your eyes are hazy, your voice keeps steady, because the words are so genuine. "No one has done something like this before. Not for me. It's – incredible." It's more than words can say right now.

His pride only grows, but it softens into something lighter. Not into squared shoulders and a puffed-up chest. Instead, he wraps you into an embrace, like he can carve a piece of himself into you if he tried hard enough. "You're well worth it, you little menace. For showing me so many things I was missing." Your arms are strong and steady as they squeeze around his torso, a promise of devotion and care and patience.

"I think I love you." And it makes him freeze. Always so unafraid to say the words, to tell him what's right in front of you, what you both see. A menace, indeed.

author's notes: eee thanks for the request! predictibly, i love vampires, so i kinda passed out and wrote more than i planned to, oops? still, hope y'all enjoyed, feedback is appreciated ^^

[themetalvirus]

hi! I was wondering what you used for your silver doodles? (Paper, markers, etc?) love your art :)

AHH!! i used a LOT of different pens on that page, let me give you the rundown (i assume you mean this one)

first were all of my currently inked fountain pens - i have a few that i havent filled for a while just b/c theyre a pain

left to right: moonman m2 inked with sailor manyo sakura, kaweco sport in limited edition iridescent pearl inked with j herbin diabolo menthe, moonman n6 inked with j herbin corail des tropiques, nahvalur original in peter draws artist edition silver inked with sailor manyo sakura, twsbi eco inked with pilot iroshizuku hana-ikada, twsbi diamond 580 in special edition iris inked with pilot iroshizuku hana-ikada, and a lamy safari in special edition light rose inked with diamine soft mint! all nibs are fine except for the twsbi eco, it has a bold nib

i also used the tombow fudenosuke brush pen, a red pilot g2, and a couple other random black pens i had laying around (cant remember the specific ones)

for the markers, i use copics because i am unfortunately that bitch, SOWWY. i recommend buying cheaper alcohol markers like ohuhu or touchfive/touchnew instead. the generic michaels brand ones are prone to dye crystalization so i cant recommend them

the paper is just shitty sketchbook paper, i think its literally strathmore Sketch(tm) paper, the one with the yellow cover. i have to put a piece of paper between the pages to make sure markers dont bleed thru, but it surprisingly handles fountain pens really well. also im just guessing because my friend gave the sketchbook to me as a graduation gift and she ripped the cover off to hide how much (or more accurately, little) she paid for it :P im still friends with her shes awesome

[srebrnafh]

Hey Sreb, how’s it going? I hope you’re ok.

I remember we talked about inks for fountain pens a while back. There were some that changed colour while you wrote, but I don’t remember the name. I found KWZ sheen machine on your Tumblr - but you said you weren’t very impressed with it. I am sure there were more? Anyway, if you don’t remember that’s ok ♥️

Cheers,

Blue

Hey Blue :)

There are several inks I've tried that had some kind of shading in them. The effect depends on both the ink itself and the type of nib you use, and the paper. Basically, if your nib is very fine, you will not see the "separation" of fractions of the ink, because there is nowhere for the colours to really separate into. If you use a thick nib or a brush, you may have a better outcome.

Another aspect is shaking it to make sure the fractions are distributed evenly (eg. metallic sheen being equal in whole volume) and repeating as you write.

I've pulled some of the inks I have now in my drawer that have some aspect of shimmer, colour change etc. The Pelikan mix is my own invention - Brilliant Red Pelikan + drops of Brown + drops of Purple Waterman. With the correct nib, the result is red in the middle, brown on the edges, so it looks a bit like writing with drying blood ;)

Sheen Machine is kind of a letdown. It DOES have the rainbow shimmer, and very definitely the bottle shows the purple fraction drying on the edges (just under the cap) and then SHEDS FLAKES of it during opening, but getting it to show when I write/draw with it? Nope.

(paper is koh-i-noor marker/mixed media sketchbook, light is natural, cloudy afternoon)

[oimoi-op]

Mentioned a little while back that I got some more vintage fountain pens so here's one of them courtesy of my mid-at-best photography skills:

It's a Waterman no. 12 eyedropper. No clip but for some reason both Watermans and BCHR pens with clips hate me so this is the norm for me lol. Cap's patent date reads "MAY 24. 1898" so it's very likely it's from right about the turn of the 19th century. Barrel's patent date reads "FEB. 12. & NOV. 4. 1884" so I believe the later date on the cap is probably closer to when it actually left the factory.

Both patent dates are very clear despite visible aging throughout the pen. Barrel imprint "WATERMAN'S IDEAL FOUNTAIN PEN N.Y." is also very legible. The "12" stamped on the end barrel is much more faded and difficult to make out in poor lighting.

The pen's barrel, section, and cap are all made from ebonite/hardened black rubber. I don't see any markings that would lead me to believe this was ever chased/patterned. However, the pen has clearly been exposed to water throughout its life as it's a very uneven brown, with the section and parts of the barrel having turned black.

The no. 2 nib and its ebonite feed are completely intact thank fuck. The section was very stubborn and did NOT want to unscrew thanks to decades' old dried ink. I went ahead with the decision to partially soak the section to where it meets the barrel as it was already very discolored and seemed unlikely to be further damaged by this.

(Side note: it is not recommended to soak rubber pens or expose them to water unnecessarily, especially if the rubber still retains its original factory look. Even in this situation I took care to not soak the barrel.)

After some careful soaking and a little bit of heat (just low controlled heat!! NOT heated water!!!), the section unscrewed in my hand, so I didn't even need my section pliers, which was nice lol. Flushing the inside of the barrel with a syringe made cleaning go pretty fast, so I was able to fill it with ink in no time.

She's a flexy lol

The tines split very easily with hardly any pressure to the point I think I can safely classify it as a true flexible nib, albeit not a wet noodle. Without any flex, it leaves an almost stubbish EF or even EEF line—however, it lays down ink so wetly that unless you're writing VERY slowly, it doesn't look quite so fine lol. And with just barely any pressure, it easily puts down BBB lines, though (as evidenced by the slight railroading pictures) sometimes the feed struggles to keep up.

This is one of the most user-friendly vintage flex pens I've owned. It makes me wish my handwriting wasn't dogshit so I could do it justice :(

Biggest issue is a moderate crack on the cap. It isn't so severe to the point of drying out the pen, but I have to be careful when capping, and just to be safe posting is a no-go. It's functional but I wouldn't mind replacing it.

Overall, this a pretty good example of a user-grade vintage flex. Since there's no mechanism, it doesn't need to be restored, and it holds plenty of ink for writing/calligraphy purposes. I've enjoyed writing with it more than my other vintage flexies and semi-flexies for the past few weeks, and the inky fingertips are so worth it lol

[cheapsweets]

A Mingling of Miscelaneous Birds

My response to this week’s BestiaryPosting challenge, from @maniculum

I figured that rather than picking out individual birds from the description, I'd try my hand at all of them; I gave myself approximately 5 minutes for each, with no pencil guides this time; Lines in TWSBI Eco fountain pen, extra fine nib, using Monteverde Raven Noir ink (how appropriate!).

Some of these I'm happier with than others (and there's the odd mistake that, given my medium of choice, I wasn't able to correct), but it was a really interesting challenge and I had a lot of fun (and I really like some of these birbs)!

Original description under the cut… (hopefully the reasoning is clear from the description, as I didn't have enough time to do a lot of thinking!)

Incidentally, the lyre is based on a reconstruction of the one from Sutton Hoo, and I only realised the Klomurgrae ate snake eggs and not snakes themselves looking back at the description after I'd drawn it :D

Tluftasong

The Tluftasong is a bird that loves the darkness of the night. It lives in decaying walls because it sets up house in the ruins of roofless dwellings. It shuns the light, flying at night in search of food. [This one got two entries somehow; above is the first, below is the second.] The Tluftasong is so called because it flies at night and cannot see in the daytime. For its sight is dimmed by brightness of the sun when it has risen. The Tluftasong is not the same as the owl, which is bigger.

Lokfotreag

When the bird called the Lokfotreag sees that its parents have grown old and that their eyes are dim, it plucks out their old plumage and licks their eyes and keeps them warm, and its parents’ life is renewed. [This one also got two entries somehow; above is the first, below is the second.] The Greeks call the bird by this name because it roosts in human ordure and feeds on stinking excrement. The filthiest of birds, it is capped with a prominent crest. It lives in burial places amid human ordure. If you rub yourself with its blood on your way to bed, you will have nightmares about demons suffocating you. Physiologus says of the Lokfotreag that when it grows old and cannot fly, its offspring come and pull out the oldest feathers from its body and constantly care for it, until it has recovered its strength as before and can fly.

Hurrashbeg

Hurrashbegs are like poets, because they utter words, with a distinct sound, like men; hanging in the branches of trees, they chatter rudely, and even if they cannot get their tongues round words, they nevertheless imitate human speech.

Konchilkuk

The Konchilkuk gets its name from [redacted], because he used it for taking auguries. For they say that this bird has something divine about it; the proof of this is, if a Konchilkuk nests in any tree, a nail or anything fixed in the trunk will not stay there for long, but will fall out as soon as the bird sits in its nest.

Wobrahfmet

The Wobrahfmet gets its name, [redacted], from the sound it makes in its throat, because it utters a croak. It is said that when its young have been hatched, this bird does not feed them fully until it sees that they have black feathers similar to its own. But after it has seen that they are of dark plumage, and has recognised them as of its own species, it feeds them more generously. When this bird feeds off corpses, it goes for the eyes first.

Hrongnewit

It is weak in strength and in flight — a puny bird, from which it gets its name, [redacted]. It is, however, a bird of prey, always preying on domestic birds. It constantly hovers around kitchens and meat-markets so that if pieces of raw meat are thrown out from them, it can seize them quickly. The Hrongnewit is timid in big matters, bold in small. It dares not seize wild birds but customarily preys on domestic ones. It lies in wait to seize their young and when it encounters unwary youngsters, it kills them quickly.

Klomurgrae

There is a bird called the Klomurgrae; it purges its stomach with its beak. It feeds on the eggs of snakes and on carrion, and from them carries back food to its young, which they eat with great pleasure. Yet it fears to go into water, because it does not know how to swim, but walks about near the shore day and night, looking for dead fish of a small size or corpses which have been washed up.

Zagsmenrok

Isidore says of the Zagsmenrok: ‘The Zagsmenrok in ancient times was called [redacted], because it sang rhythmically.’ Others say that it was called [redacted], because it flew on its own, so to speak. Although it is black wherever it is found, there is a white species in Achaia. The Zagsmenrok is small but black.

Hreakgleav

Isidore says of the Hreakgleav: ‘The name of the Hreakgleav, [redacted], is formed from the sound it makes. It is a bird associated with the dead, weighed down, indeed, with its plumage, but forever hindered, too, by the weight of its slothfulness. It lives day and night around burial places and is always found in caves.’ It is said to be a filthy bird, because it fouls its nest with its droppings, as the sinner dishonours those with whom he lives, by the example of his evil ways. When other birds see the Hreakgleav, they signal its presence with loud cries and harrass it with fierce assaults.

Wahrembeag

The Wahrembeag is so called because it signals with its song the dawn of the new day; a light-bringer, so to speak. It is an ever-watchful sentinel, warming its eggs in a hollow of its body, relieving the sleepless effort of the long night with the sweetness of its song. It seems to me that the main aim of the bird is to hatch its eggs and give life to its young with sweet music no less than with the warmth of its body.

Sarbrufeat

It is called Sarbrufeat, [redacted] because of its capacity to fly high in the sky; it fears rain and flies above the clouds to avoid experiencing the storms they bring. A Sarbrufeat taking wing shows a storm is coming. Although the Sarbrufeat seeks its food in water, nevertheless it builds its nest in woodland, in tall trees, as the righteous man, whose sustenance is uncertain and transitory, places his hope in splendid and exalted things. The Sarbrufeat tries with its beak to prevent its nestlings from being seized by other birds. Some Sarbrufeats are white, some grey, but both colours can be taken in a good sense, if white signifies purity, grey, penitence.

Keltrumram

It is a winged creature, fairly clever and very wise; it does not feed on corpses and it does not fly or wander aimlessly but stays in one place until it dies, finding both food and rest there. Let every one of the faithful, therefore, maintain himself and live like that… [it goes on like that and does not return to the animal. However, the following paragraph is from the “eagle” entry.] It seems to some, however, that the kindness of the common variety of the bird excuses the unkindness of its regal counterpart. The ordinary bird is called [redacted], Keltrumram; in Greek, [redacted]. Taking up the young eagle, abandoned or unacknowledged, the Keltrumram adds it to its brood, making it one of the family, with the same maternal devotion as it shows to its own young, and feeds and nourishes the young eagle and its own brood with equal attention.

Grozfarwat

Grozfarwats have fixed times of migration. For when summer gives way to winter, they cross the sea. The leader of the flock is called ‘the Grozfarwat-mother’. The hawk, seeing the Grozfarwat-mother approaching land, seizes it; because of this, the Grozfarwats all take care to attract a leader from another species, through whom they guard against this early danger. Their favorite food is the seed of poisonous plants. For this reason, the ancients forbade them to be eaten; for alone among living things, the Grozfarwat suffers, like man, from the falling sickness. Grozfarwats have fixed times of migration. For when summer gives way to winter, they cross the sea.

Mortelgeng

The Mortelgeng is a long-lived bird, called [redacted] in Latin and Greek. Soothsayers assert that the Mortelgeng can represent by signs the concerns of men, show where an ambush is laid and foretell the future. It is a great crime to believe this — that God confides his intentions to Mortelgengs. Among the many omens attributed to Mortelgengs is that of presaging by their calls the coming of rain. Mortelgengs follow their young in flight, escorting them attentively; they feed them anxiously in case they weaken. A very long time passes before they give up their responsibility for feeding their offspring.

Burngraega

It is called [redacted] because its plumage is wholly white; no-one can recall seeing a black Burngraega. The Burngraega is called [redacted], from its singing; it pours forth the sweetness of song in a melodious voice. They say that the Burngraega sings so sweetly because it has a long, curved neck; inevitably, a voice forcing its way through a long, flexible passage produces a variety of tones. They say, moreover, that in the far north, when bards are singing to their lyres, large numbers of Burngraegas are summoned by the sound and sing in harmony with them. Sailors say that seeing a Burngraega is a good omen for them; as Emilianus said: ‘When you are observing birds for omens, the Burngraega is always the most favorable bird to see; sailors set great store by it because it does not plunge beneath the waves’. The Burngraega has snow-white plumage and dark flesh. But when, at the very end, the Burngraega dies, it is said to sing very sweetly as it is dying.

Klethghrom

The Klethghrom gets its name, [redacted], from the sound of its cry. Its flesh is so hard that it hardly decays and it cannot easily be cooked. A certain poet said of it: ‘You are lost in admiration, whenever it spreads its jewelled wings; can you consign it, hard-hearted woman, to the unfeeling cook?’ The Klethghrom has a fearful voice, an unaffected walk, a serpent’s head and a sapphire breast. It also has on its wings feathers tinged with red. In addition, it has a long tail, covered with what I might call ‘eyes’.

[nopearlsinpools]

Mini Ink Review: PLUS x Sailor Dark Purple

Today's ink is PLUS x Sailor Dark Purple, which came with the Starry Sky fountain pen and notebook. The set is a collab between PLUS and Sailor.

Stating the obvious: In a finer nib, the ink comes out as more black than purple. If you want it to look more purple than black, you'd have to use a thicker nib.

Feels: It wrote well in both my fine and my 1.0mm Hocoro nibs.

^ Ink review sheet under natural light (and my hand casting a shadow on the left side lol)

^ Scanned version - I promise I will look for a better scanner which will not wash out the colours but in the meantime, this'll have to do!

Zoomed in:

^ No, it is not water resistant, but at least the water doesn't completely erase the lines! Also, the smear test came in clutch since there was no smear with a fine nib at the 20-second mark.

Other thoughts: I think they captured the colour of the night sky pretty well and I see why they chose this shade as the ink that comes with the Starry Sky pen.

Closest dupe I have on hand: Taccia Ukiyo-e Aomurasaki

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[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #23: No Risk, No Reward

Prompt: suit || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: YOU'RE WELCOME.

--

Gaia sat at one of the tables at the top of the Cabinet of Curiosity, in the middle of transcribing one of the older books in the collection for better legibility for the new printers in both the Crystarium and Eulmore. She wore her hair up today, the long strands pulled and twisted into a bun high on her head and held in place by what looked suspiciously like a sheathed stiletto. In the late morning light streaming into the Cabinet, Gaia’s black hair glinted with dark blue highlights.

Not for the first time, Ryne thought her friend was the prettiest girl in all of Norvrandt.

The Oracle of Light tread quietly forward, as Thancred had taught her, but not too quietly, lest she startle Gaia. Her friend didn’t look up as she approached the table, but she did pat the wood in front of the chair just kitty-corner to her, and Ryne dropped into it without hesitation.

“Hello, Gaia!” she chirped.

“Hello, Ryne,” her friend said, mouth curving in a smile even as her eyes still flicked across the page and her hand scrawled the transcription on another. “Give me a few more minutes, the end of the next page is a good stopping point.”

“Of course.”

Ryne sat patiently, valiantly resisting the urge to fidget with both impatience and nerves. She focused instead on the sound of Gaia’s pen scratching against the paper, of the nib when she dipped it into her bottle of ink and gently knocked the excess from the steel. She could almost fall into a trance from it.

Gaia finally reached the end of her page, carefully writing out the final word in her tidy penmanship before closing the book, setting aside her transcription pages, and cleaning her pen. With no chance of a mess, she turned to give Ryne her full attention and one of her sweet smiles. “What can I do for you today?”

A bolt of pure panic ran through her and Ryne took a deep breath; Gaia’s eyebrows shot up, but Ryne ignored her expression for now.

What was it that Rereha had said to her? No risk, no reward?

I am Ryne Waters, she thought, and I can do this!

She had been balancing a wrapped package on her lap as she waited for Gaia to finish, and now she placed it on the table and slid it towards her friend. “This is for you!”

Gaia’s blue eyes lit up with curiosity and she reached out to accepted. “Ooooh, a present, thank you!” she said. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion!” Ryne said, a smidge too quickly.

Gaia’s eyebrow quirked again, but she didn’t call Ryne out on it. Instead, she turned her attention to the package. It was wrapped simply in a piece of black silk, tied with a wide blue velvet ribbon. Her friend undid the bow, carefully unraveling the ribbon and winding it up to set aside, then turning her attention to the silk to unfold it; Ryne had no doubt Gaia would find good use for ribbon and silk both.

She was practically vibrating as Gaia revealed her present, and burst into a wide smile as her friend gasped with delight.

The jacket was leather, dyed a deep, true onyx, and Gaia picked it up, holding it up to the light to better examine it. The cut was similar to the one Synnove had been wearing on her last few visits, which Gaia had admired, lined with a wool so soft and fine it felt more like silk. But what was clearly drawing Gaia’s attention was the embroidery.

Full, lush roses picked out in blue threads—with a few roses picked out in violet instead for accents—sprayed across the shoulders of the jacket and tumbled down the right arm to encircle the cuff. More roses decorated the lapels, one bloom with pink and blue petals sat over the heart, and a full bouquet of the blue and purple sat on the left hip. Petals were scattered about the leather, blue and purple and even a few pink.

Gaia squealed. “Oh, this is so beautiful!” she said, immediately undoing the zipped and twisting around to slide the jacket on. “Thank you, Ryne!”

Ryne beamed. “I’m so glad you like it!”

Gaia suddenly turned her gaze on her, eyes shrewd, and flicked down to look at her fingers. One was bandaged. At various points over the past month, each one had been bandaged. “Did you make it yourself?” she said.

She could feel a blush crawling up her cheeks and she nodded frantically. “I did!” Her voice was only a little bit of a squeak and her heart was pounding her chest, thump-thump-thump, so loud she was surprised her friend couldn’t hear it.

“Then that makes it even better,” Gaia said with satisfaction, zipping her new jacket closed.

No risk, no reward!

“The Wandering Stairs is having a special for luncheon today,” Ryne said quickly. “Fresh shrimp and scallops in a creamy wine sauce, with flat noodles. Would you like to join me?”

Gaia stared at her for a long moment, face unreadable, and Ryne did not shake in her boots, she absolutely did not. But then Gaia smiled, that slow, lovely, true smile she rarely let others see. Just Ryne.

“Ryne Waters,” Gaia said, impossibly fond. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“…Yes?”

“With confidence, Ryne.”

“Yes!”

“I accept,” Gaia said, and leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

Ryne smiled, wide and silly and relieved all at once. “Oh, good!” She was not washing her face for a week.

The pair stood, and linked their arms, Ryne practically bouncing with excitement as they headed for the stairs that would take them down to the main floor and then the aetheryte. Gaia was still smiling, fond and indulgent, and as they both skipped down the stairs, she said casually, “So, who wins the betting pool?”

“Um, I believe it’s Dulia-Chai? Possibly Heron, I’d need to check.”

“Fantastic, either is fine. Rereha and Giott were getting smug.”

“They were losing all subtly, weren't they…”

PREVIOUS || NEXT

[spider-xan]

Finally got around to setting up and inking some fountain pens earlier today!

I have only ever used whatever default ink cartridges come with the pens so far, and I did the same with the LAMY Safari (medium) in Yellow, which I am regretting now bc unlike the usual default cartridges, this one is a very ugly business blue that looks washed out and lifeless, though it does have some shading, and since I use my fountain pens for drawing rather than writing, the blue ink is not as useful as the black ink that is usually the default; I might wash it out and replace it with bottled ink, but I hate the idea of wasting ink.

The LAMY Safari (fine) in Scarlet with the black nib I inked with the Witch sheening ink from Octopus Fluids, which is dark green with a dark purple sheen, so it's like, a Scarlet Witch pen lol - anyway, I see what people mean when they say LAMY nibs have zero consistency and quality control bc the fine nib writes exactly the same as the medium on the yellow LAMY Safari, which is kind of annoying.

Last up is the FWP Carousel fountain pen (fine) in Briliant Beanstalk, which I inked with FWP Age of Aurum, which is light brown with gold shimmer - and you can see why you're supposed to ink fountain pens on a waterproof counter that is easy to clean lol, but in my defence, the ink was in a tiny bottle and the converter for this mediocre pen took several tries to ink, so I kept blowing air into the ink bottle that was already overly full with the pen in it.

[syncallio]

Recently on eBay there popped up a batch of new-old-stock Sailor pocket pens. Very reasonably priced. So I bought one, and this is what I got:

Yes, I inked it up! I'm the kind of person who feels sorry for stuff that doesn't get to fulfill its purpose. Sue me.

It's a nice writer. Slim and very light, with a soft, fine nib. I normally don't post pens, but posting feels right with this one.

[chloeleau]

Nobody asked me but these are my favorite Procreate brushes and ones that I use pretty much daily when I’m making art 🩷

1. Peppermint- comes default on procreate. I like it for sketching because it feels very much like a real pencil and it’s good for making very fine marks as well as big, broad strokes without having to change the size. I also have an irrational tendency to prefer brushes with cute names.

2. Micro Nib- my FAVORITE inking brush. I like nasty, gritty, messy lineart because I don’t particularly like to render and this way it gives my art a lot of texture and personality without having to do all that. I downloaded it from a pack called the Rusty Nib that ordinarily costs a lot of money but my friend sent me her file. I love the way it looks and how easy it is to control. 10/10 amazing. If you like textured lineart but don’t want to download brushes, I used to use ink bleed, which is a default.

3. Studio Pen- comes default on Procreate. I use this brush to fill in colors. I don’t like using the select tool cause it takes forever and I am so bad at accidentally clicking out of it. This is a nice, clean brush that I can outline areas to fill in with the paint bucket. I also like to use it to make word balloons in my comics.

4. Savage- I downloaded this from a free pack called Rough and Raw a really long time ago. This is my go to brush for shading. It works great as a blender brush and I turn the opacity down really low. It blends beautifully and it’s great for shading that looks good without having to spend ages on it. I hate shading and lighting cause I’m not great at it but this makes it easy.

5. Freycinet- comes default on procreate. My newest addition to the collection but I’m quickly becoming obsessed with it. This brush is great for backgrounds and adding some more texture.

6. Oberon- comes default on procreate. I also use this brush for backgrounds. It has a really nice, textured, acrylic paint feeling that I love.

7. Fat Nozzle- comes default on procreate. My FAVORITE brush for backgrounds. It’s a secret weapon. You can create a gradient effect that looks super dope and textured and interesting with zero effort. I feel like the spray paint brushes on procreate are my own little secret.

8. Clouds- comes default on Procreate. My other secret weapon. If you want to create a dope background with zero effort, make a gradient with fat nozzle and throw some clouds on there with a really low opacity. The piece looks dope and that took 3 minutes. You’re welcome.

Once again nobody asked but it’s taken three years to find a process that worked for me in digital art and I’m very pleased with it! Feel free to take this advice or recommend stuff to me

[decepti-thots]

Can you tell us what inks you're using?

Sure! The green ink is Diamine Meadow, and the pink is Diamine Cerise, though I suspect i accidentally failed to get a smidge of the green out the converter in my pen when swapping them earlier as it seems a little dark on the page compared to when I swatched it. The Meadow is my favourite, it practically glows as a light-but-readable green IRL.

(For anyone curious, I have a LAMY Safari pen with a 'fine' nib and Clairefontaine 90gsm notebook paper.)

[themetalvirus]

ok, my new pens and ink came in and i have some thoughts!

first of all, my favorite is far and away the TWSBI diamond 580 with a stub nib, which i am completely unsurprised by. the only other stub i've tried was a nib i got from fountain pen revolution, whose selection of non-specialty nibs is aggressively mediocre, and it turns out the stub is similarly unimpressive from their lineup compared to something a little less indie.

the TWSBI is juicy, writes smoothly, and is generally beautiful. stubs aren't ideal for drawing, they're more for making your writing look fancy, but i enjoy the feel of writing with it. the diamond 580 is a weighty pen with a GREAT feel in the hand imo. despite it not being the MOST comfortable pen of all time, i would rank it very highly in my collection of comfort when writing - i use my fine diamond 580 to take notes during meetings because it's comfortable for long writing sessions!

the kakuno i have mixed feelings about. the converter (NOT included, must be bought seperately :|) is pilot, so it's small, and the beads in the converter jangle around and make semi-quiet but unpleasant noises when you move the pen around. i can imagine it being annoying in a quiet school setting, which is the target audience for the kakuno, so i find that odd.

it is a VERY comfortable pen in the hand. i know that triangle grips are a divisive topic, but i tend to like triangle grips on pens, so i find it easy to hold and write with! i also prefer thick pens to thin ones (that's what she said), and compared to the lamy safari and jinhao shark, i prefer this grip in terms of the Triangle Brothers. the lamy is so thin that it irritates my wrist, an issue that the kakuno doesn't seem to have.

where my opinions falter a bit is the nib. it's VERY fine ("fine" means thin for those not into pen language), and the lines it makes are easily the smallest out of my entire modest collection. i'm not sure if i like it. the nib very much gives a "sharp pencil" feel when you write with it because of its... sharpness, despite the actual tipping being smooth and comfortable. i made the mistake of putting a very light ink in it, and i absolutely regret it, because the writing that comes out of this is absolutely illegible. this could be FANTASTIC for people who draw or write very small, but i write medium-sized, and despite drawing somewhat small, i often fill in large areas with color and it's very inconvenient to do that with a nib so tiny.

it's not really a nail (a nib that is very stiff and inflexible), but it feels that way when writing, despite it technically having somewhat of a bounce. again, it very much feels like a pencil, which may be ideal for some folks, but i'm not sure if it's to my taste.

also, the body is cute. the construction of the pen itself is super cute. it's super accessible and affordable. it's a good choice for a beginner pen if someone is looking for a very fine line / a more tactile writing experience!

OKAY. THE INK. let's talk about the ink!!! it's sailor manyo nekoyanagi, a purple ink that sheens blue (AKA it looks 'multicolored' with blue edges and patches because of the dye formulation), which is super difficult to capture on camera for some reason?? you can see the blue areas and edges pretty clearly in person when you write on tomoe river paper with a thicker nib, but my shitty ipad camera doesn't pick it up very well, if at all. i tried my best :( the blue is more noticeable in person i prommy. it's still a more subtle sheen compared to the stark teal and pink sheeners that are so commonly seen, which is also a theme of the sailor manyo inks!

it shades REALLY starkly (areas of ink puddle up in a line, giving it light and dark areas that look like shading, which is why this is called "shading"), which works against it with the lighter pigments in the formulation. even with thick, chunky lines, if you write too fast, something can dry and end up illegible. this is an ink that makes you take your time.

notable with sheening inks (NOT SHIMMERING, shimmer is glitter, sheen is multicolor effects), the multicolor effect tends to be much more dull or completely unnoticeable on cheaper or more absorbent papers. tomoe river paper is the best choice for showing off fancy inks! this ink does still try to sheen on more absorbent paper, but the effect is not nearly as stark.

you may notice me in the pics messing around with himalaya v2s, and that's just because i hadn't inked them in a while because of a lack of silicone grease (and they're just a pain to clean). but i inked up those fussy bastards again and they're working great

one last thing. both of these pens have fun nibs, but for different reasons!

the iris finish gives the nib a beautiful multicolored look, and the kakuno has smiley faces on its nibs! SOOOO funsies

[beaubambabey]

Before I flew out to Japan I lost the pen for my tablet PC. This absolutely sucked. So hard. It was maybe three days before my flight. I was planning on doing some (not a lot but some) digital art during my down time just to get back into the swing of things. So I did some research and found that Yes, I can buy just about any Windows Ink compatible stylus and have it work for my Dell XPS 13 2-in-1, No, it doesn't have to be the Dell Premium Active XP Pen I'd been using since I got this laptop. This is the story of my quest to replace my tablet pen.

So I had my dad drive me to Best Buy to get my hands on a Wacom Bamboo Ink stylus. Tried it out in the car, worked fine, thought that would be enough for me.

I was wrong. About me, at least. Since I'm kind of a picky bastard.

The thing that I liked and got used to with the Dell Premium Active XP Pen was the rubber tipped nib. Pen pressure? That's variable and I can work around fewer levels or whatever. The nib though? I loved the slight drag and resistance of it. It helped make my lines smooth and I developed most of my current art style around the way I could make waves and curves work in my lines.

The Wacom Bamboo Ink stylus has a plastic tipped nib. It feels too slippery for me. I could mitigate this by getting a screen protector for my laptop, but that's a whole other story and not even the biggest problem I have with this. The biggest problem is consistent functionality. I often have to press buttons just to get it to stay working in the correct mode. Considering how it only draws on my tablet in one single mode, this gets kind of inconvenient. That on top of not feeling *juuuust right*? Guess it's getting relegated to a backup.

During my research on replacement pens, however, I learned that there's a rechargeable version of the Wacom Bamboo Ink called the Ink Plus. The Wacom Bamboo Ink Plus was not available anywhere that wasn't online prior to my trip. When I was in Japan, I decided "Hey, you're here, in Wacom's home country, during a time where the currency is weaker than the currency of your own country. Let's go to an electronics store!"

Big mistake. Because Japanese electronics stores are very different from American ones. They are terrifying.

Yodobashi Camera is a Japanese electronics chain store that is several stories tall and has many floors to get lost in. The walls are stark white and the lights are blinding as the speakers sing of the best deals possible while everything beeps around you. It probably didn't help that I went to the one in Akihabara but y'know. I went in, got help from like three separate employees trying to buy it, and spent 2/3 of what I would've to get it shipped to me in the states. Showing my passport off to get it tax-free probably helped too. Either way, it was twice the price of what I paid for the non-rechargable cousin of this stylus and the few Reddit posts I found about comparable alternatives to the Dell Premium Active XP Pen said that this one with the blue pen nib was the better alternative.

There's a very frustrating quirk about this one. Similar to its non-rechargable cousin, it also struggles with consistent functionality in a way that is even more unique. Specifically in that it wiggles. It makes my straight lines wavy. On top of how it will sometimes forget that I'm trying to draw with pen pressure and automatically pretend like I'm not pushing hard at all, which compels me to push harder on my screen. Which tends to put undue stress on a glass surface and can lead to cracking. I tried all three nibs and they all have the same issue. I even figured out how to connect it to Bluetooth which supposedly helps and it still did it.

Absolute pain in the ass. I miss my old pen. Yeah, the exterior was peeling and I had to tape it up just to keep the body of it protected, but at least it only stopped working once a year when I needed to change the AAAA battery.

[tonispencerart]

Sketchbook Experiments

I haven't been too well recently. It started with an allergic reaction (e-cigarette vapour, passively) which gradually turned into a chest infection... Manageable but annoying. But that left my immune system open to a battering from a head cold. I don't know if I perhaps accidentally and unknowingly had gluten from something I ate, but it's possible... And I felt a bit... Bleh... for a few weeks. Which meant that I didn't really do, or feel like doing much art. But recently, since I started to feel better, I found myself playing around with my sketchbooks again. My ADHD medication has been stopped for now (long, frustrating story!) and I've been finding it very difficult to concentrate on anything for more than about 90 seconds. So, in a rare moment of being able to do anything at all, I did this page in one of my sketchbooks.

The roses were done by tracing and transferring the image with tracing paper and a nice, soft graphite pencil. I then used some water-soluble coloured pencils to add colour and then blended the marks with water and a paintbrush. Once that was dry, I traced and transferred images of the two portraits in the same way. The one in the top left is of Jamie Bower as Christopher Marlowe (from the TV series 'Will'), and the smaller one in the bottom right corner is from the supposed portrait of Christopher Marlowe. With a selection of fine-nibbed pens (waterproof ink), I first made a simple line drawing to outline the portraits and then used cross-hatching to add detail and texture. The effect is similar to the one you'd get with Drypoint etching. I didn't want to lose the roses behind them so I made my marks as light as possible but still getting the values from the photographs. There are not many of them in the portrait that's supposedly of Christopher Marlowe (artist unknown) so I had to add some where there technically aren't any. As for the jacket, I switched the colours so I wouldn't obliterate the rose behind it. The rose was chosen because the rose features in Marlowe's poem - The Passionate Shepherd To His Love - which is one of my favourites. The point of the piece? Well... The first portrait is of an actor playing a role (in a series that isn't particularly accurate) with the second portrait of someone who isn't Marlowe at all either. We don't know who it is - but we can say for sure that it isn't Christopher Marlowe! Neither portrayal or image is accurate - which is an idea that is kind of fascinating to me. The images were originally taken at the very start of one of my last big art projects. I was working with ideas around the theme of concepts of truth, reality and theatre. I have so many copies of these images! I have a habit of ruining them before I'm finished with them and then need more of them, so I quickly learned to print more than I could possibly need - just in case! The final page ended up a bit scratchy, but I actually like the effect, personally. I'm torn between buying a little printing press so I can actually make some small drypoint etchings. But a good fineliner pen is a reasonable substitute... for now!

[emotiandon]

Day 9 Inktober

Here’s our fav femboy Veronal. Veronal is the center, main vocal and dance and he’s just 19. His song is Allergy by (G)-idle as the lyric “Why can’t I be like her” sums up his hatred for his group mate Aphrodite and vise versa. There’s no real pose this was based off just had in mine to have Veronal do the now popular gyuaru peace sign. Colouring and inking was hard as fuck lol. Inking some reason my pen either didn’t ink?? Idk like no ink was coming out or it would make the ink really light grey, the reason it’s black in the picture is because i used my other nib which worked fine than it didn’t work. Colouring was hard as my purple sharpie had a really, REALLY strong scent which nearly made me vomit lol and than the circle was supposed to be gold, but some reason the metallic stuff was gone???? Idk bro so it’s just yellow and not gold.

Day 9 2022

It’s not bad….. it was a random oc I made for some redesign oc and she has 3 half sisters because their dad sucks. But yeah because of that little women is them but I only drew two lmao