#may clean this up and make it a print…mayhaps..

[marbleboa]

invert // compliment

[bangtanstanst]

Valentine’s | 3

part one • part two • part three • part four • part five

You feel like your friends are expecting too much from this party. But, then again, neither do you expect somehow being swept off to Taehyung’s bedroom.

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: college!au, fluff, a bit of angst mayhaps?

warnings: Tension™

word count: 4.1k

a/n: it’s here! It’s finally here! I’ve procrastinated on this for long enough now (woops), I really hope you’re excited for the continuation of this series and that it lives up to your expectations! I’m excited to share it with you and hear what you think :D

I’m tagging @nambewb and @namiiy to let them know it’s here, just let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part too♥

masterlist

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” says May on Friday night, standing in the kitchen of the frat house as you pour yourself drinks. A heavy bass penetrates the walls and you hear people cheering, shouting at someone to chug something, though you’ve already seen it happen twice since coming in, so the three of you simply ignore it.

April lets out a sigh and shakes her head, smiling at you as you pour some vodka into your red solo cup. “You are so going to get some tonight.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “That’s not really in the plan, you know,” you say, quirking an eyebrow as you raise the cup to your lips and take a sip. Of course, your words go ignored by both of your friends – they’ve been giddy about this party for the past three days now and nothing you’ve said or done seems to have changed that in any way.

“Is that why you wore that camisole?” April shoots back, an eyebrow raised.

You glance down at your torso, though you know damn well what you’re wearing. You pull on the black camisole, which is partially hidden underneath the ‘snazzy’ jacket May has made you wear. “I happen to like this one.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “There’s a reason why I tried to throw it in a fire,” she says pointedly. “And the reason is that it sucks.”

“Who even cares?” May interjects, looking up at you as she snatches a beer off the counter. “All the more reason for him to rip it off her,” she continues with a grin, raising the bottle in a toast.

Rather than continuing your futile protest, you burst out in bitter laughter, burying your face in your free hand and shaking your head. “I hate you all so much.”

April ignores your words, sighing dreamily. “I just can’t believe this is the day you finally move the fuck on from he-who-must-not-be-named,” she says, swishing her drink around in her bright red cup. “365 days exactly. I mean, I’m not saying it shouldn’t have happened a lot sooner, but it’s amazingly poetic.”

“It’s not 365 days exactly,” you weakly shoot back, at which April just rolls her eyes.

“I’m counting from the date you found the coward’s note, not when he wrote the damn thing.”

You shrug, fumbling with the label on the bottle of vodka in front of you, trying not to think back to the apologetic but ruthless words you’d read on the paper. Typed in the standard Calibri font, printed and hurriedly folded, all crinkled from being stashed away at the bottom of your backpack for three days. It was almost like being dumped via text, only a hundred times worse.

You scowl at the memory. “I don’t even like poetry,” you mumble, taking a larger gulp from your drink, face contorting as the alcohol burns your throat on its way down. You grab a bottle of coke and pour more in your cup, hoping to water the vodka down.

April flicks the back of your hand, leaning against the counter. “Always so eloquent.”

“Can we please just stop talking about this?” you say with a sigh, putting away the coke to sip on your drink once again, concluding it tastes much better now.

“Not until you admit you have a big-ass crush on Taehyung,” May replies, glaring at you. “You shouldn’t let the dickfaced demon mess with your head, you know. Especially after a whole year.”

“I’m not!” you protest immediately, but the pointed looks both your friends send you make you rethink your words, rubbing your forehead. “I’m not,” you weakly repeat. Another set of pointed looks thrown your way, and you sigh deeply. “Okay, I might be,” you finally admit. “I just don’t –” You stop yourself, sighing again and shaking your head. “Let’s just get drunk and move on from this. I’ll go wallow in self-pity later, okay?”

“Nah-ah,” April says, a bright grin spreading over her face as she pushes herself off the counter, softly beginning to sing, “Y/N and Taehyung sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” She repeats it again and again and again, voice growing louder and louder, and she raises her cup and twirls through the kitchen as if it’s the best bop she’s heard in her lifetime. You can’t help but laugh at the sight, especially when May joins in, acting like you’re in your dorm and there’s no chance of anyone interrupting you.

“I’ve opened the door to first grade,” a disbelieving voice suddenly says from the kitchen’s doorway, making you all freeze in your tracks, slowly turning to the person who interrupted you, now walking towards the counter for a refill.

May is the first to break the slightly awkward silence. “Yoongi, right?” she says casually, clearly hoping to make him forget what he just saw.

The guy in question nods, briefly glancing at the three of you from underneath his lashes as he scans the bottles stalled out on the counter. He pulls a face when his hand passes the bottle of tequila and you snicker a little, mind flashing back to the story Taehyung had told you on Valentine’s night. “Something funny, new girl?” he inquires, narrowing his eyes at you.

You slowly shake your head, though you can’t help but snicker again.

It takes Yoongi a moment. His eyes flash back to the counter, then to you, your pursed lips and rosy cheeks, and it seems to dawn on him. “Don’t tell me he told you,” he says through an exasperated sigh.

You keep your lips pursed in an attempt not to burst out in laughter, shaking your head again, but Yoongi sees right through it. Anyone would – you’re a little too tipsy to be discreet at the moment.

“I’m going to kill him,” Yoongi huffs, shaking his head in disappointment as he pours himself a hearty cup of rum with a tiny bit of coke. “I’m actually going to murder that guy.”

“Let him kiss her first, will you?” April butts in, leaning her elbow on your shoulder. Your mouth falls open and you lightly hit the back of her head, but she doesn’t budge.

Yoongi just snorts, taking a large sip from his drink, decidedly not flinching as the alcohol makes its way down. “I’ll do my best,” he replies, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Though he might just choke on his tongue when you talk to him again.”

You look back at Yoongi with wide eyes, too stunned to say anything back.

“All the more reason to go up to him, right?” May tells you, patting your shoulder. “Saves Yoongi over here some tedious work and a hefty prison sentence.”

“Cheers to that,” Yoongi adds, raising his cup and taking another large gulp, refilling it when he puts it back down.

Narrowing your eyes at May, you huff. “Because you’re all about efficiency, aren’t you?”

She just sends you a smile, nodding seriously. “Oh, definitely.”

“You?” you repeat in disbelief, eyebrows shooting up. “The May who butters her toast with a spoon when she doesn’t want to clean the knives?” you continue, tilting your head. “The one who tried to make frozen yoghurt because she didn’t want to leave the dorm to buy it at the store literally next door? That May?”

“The one and only,” she says with a grin, not one ounce of confidence lost. In the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi chuckle as he screws the cap back on the bottle of rum.

You hum with a disbelieving look on your face, looking back at Yoongi. “Anyways,” you begin, though you don’t really know where you want to go with that sentence – just away from this damn topic. “How are you –”

“He’s in the living room,” Yoongi interrupts, putting the bottle of rum back on the counter. “Thought you might want to know before we get into the small talk.” He raises his cup once more and saunters out of the kitchen, leaving you in a flustered silence, while you see your friends exchange mischievous looks. And before you can try to get yourself together, April and May are pushing you out into the living room, locating Taehyung before you can even blink and pushing you into his direction with twinkling eyes and wide smiles.

You stumble and find purchase against the wall, just inches away from Taehyung, who has his back turned to you as he talks to a group of friends. For a moment, you just stand there, looking back at your supposed best friends, who are wildly gesturing for you to turn around and get his attention. You shake your head and make a cutthroat motion, glancing over your shoulder to see he hasn’t turned around or noticed you in any way, and you look back at your friends, planning on walking back, or perhaps running out the front door to really be done with it.

Then suddenly, a ping pong ball comes flying out of nowhere and you dodge it, your eyes following its trajectory until it bounces against the back of Taehyung’s head. He turns, eyes falling on you a second later. You just smile at him, fighting the urge to spin around and flip off April and May – the culprits behind all of this, no doubt.

“Y/N!” he calls over the music, a wide smile on his face. “Good to see you again!” You notice he gives you a quick once-over, smile unfaltering. “I like your camisole,” he remarks, pointing to it.

Ha, throw it in a fire, my ass. “Thanks!” you say in reply, your smile starting to feel more natural now, though your hands are growing clammy. “It’s good to see you too,” you add, fingers fiddling with the red plastic of your cup.

He smiles, and you feel your worries melt away. “So, how are you liking the party?” he asks, leaning his shoulder against the wall. “Bored yet?”

You grin up at him, lifting your cup to eye height. “How can I be bored when there’s free alcohol?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “And here I thought my stories taught you something,” he says, feigning considerable disappointment.

“I’ll pay more attention next time,” you promise, lightly patting his shoulder.

Smiling at you, he nods firmly. “Good to hear that, Y/N. I aim to educate,” he says, taking a sip. Half of his face might be hidden behind his cup and the lighting in here is pretty bad – but you swear you see his cheeks are flushed red.

It’s just the alcohol, you tell yourself.

“Oh, by the way, speaking of those stories…” you start with a sheepish smile. “I might have accidentally told Yoongi you told me the frozen pizza story and now he might be slightly annoyed.”

His eyes widen as soon as the words leave your mouth, then dart around the room. “You did?” he asks, searching, searching, searching... and then freezing in his tracks.

“Yeah?” you answer cautiously, turning to look over your shoulder at the thing that’s gotten Taehyung so wide-eyed – and you spot Yoongi. He’s standing across the room but looking at the two of you, one eyebrow cocked, a lazy smirk teased over his lips. When he makes eye contact, he calmly lifts his cup and chugs its contents, wiggling it afterwards for good measure.

“Fuck,” Taehyung breathes. “What did he get himself? Do you remember?” he asks frantically, looking back down at you.

Taken aback by this sudden change of tone, you stammer a little, trying to remember what it was that Yoongi poured into his cup. “Rum!” you exclaim once your memory finally clears up. “Rum, he got rum.”

Taehyung lets out a shaky breath, gently taking your cup out of your grip and putting it away along with his own. He then takes your hand, which sends a jolt of electricity up your arm, upping your heart rate considerably. “Y/N,” he starts, taking a breath. “We need to get out of here.”

“What?” You look over your shoulder again. Yoongi has now retrieved a bottle of tequila from somewhere and, while the look on his face is relatively neutral, the fact that the guy next to him is pulling a concerned, empathetic face at you sends a shiver down your spine. “Why?” you ask anyway.

“He’s going to make me –”

“Hey, Tae!” Yoongi suddenly shouts, his voice loud enough to be carried across the room, audible even over the music. Taehyung’s hand tightens around yours as Yoongi takes a step forward, heading towards you…

And then you’re dashing off.

You’re panting when the door slams closed behind you, your legs finally getting some rest now that Taehyung’s pulled you into the safety of whatever room this is.

“I think we escaped him,” he concludes as the both of you catch your breath, leaning your back against the now locked door. After a few more seconds of silence seem to support that conclusion, Taehyung leans away from you to switch on the lights to illuminate the room.

It’s relatively small but bigger than the one you sleep in. Various paintings, most of them by Van Gogh, are printed out on thin paper and pasted to the yellowish walls, accompanied by tons of pictures of Taehyung in different places, posing with different people – the only common thing in these photos is his boxy smile. A small desk is situated against the wall, with a laptop and some notebooks strewn about its surface, small handwriting filling the pages. A pile of clothes is draped over the chair that sits at the desk.

“So Yoongi’s that bad, huh?” you remark, still leaning against the door, not quite knowing what to do with yourself.

He laughs and nods, brushing past you to fall onto his bed, face first. You decide to find a seat too, and you pull out his desk chair and sit down on it, trying not to press too much on the clothes draped over the backrest. You hear a heavy bass booming right below you, though it’s silent out in the hallway, which does seem to indicate you’ve escaped whatever punishment was in store for you – for now.

“Rum Yoongi is a vengeful guy,” Taehyung explains, rolling over and sitting up.

“Sorry,” you say with an apologetic smile.

He smiles and waves your apology away. “It’s fine, we’ll be cool in like an hour.” When your eyebrows shoot up in curiosity, he continues, “Rum Yoongi is also a forgetful fellow.”

You snicker at his words, crossing your legs. “So what do you think he would’ve made you do?”

“That bottle of tequila?” You nod slowly, eyebrows raised as you wait for him to continue. “Yeah, he definitely would’ve made me chug the whole thing.”

“What, can’t hold your alcohol?” you joke, grinning at him.

He simply narrows his eyes at you, planting his hands on his bed for support as he leans back. “Don’t make me prove it and pass out in the backyard again,” he shoots back, staying serious only briefly, until you snort and he lets out a laugh. “No, in all seriousness, I wasn’t really looking to get drunk tonight.”

“Don’t feel like the hangover tomorrow?”

He looks at you for a second with a thoughtful expression, seems to hesitate in giving you an answer. But then he replaces that expression with a small smile, nodding. “Something like that, yeah,” he replies softly, clearing his throat and averting his eyes.

“Plus, you probably don’t want to get thrown out a window, right?” you say, mind flashing back to the other drinking story he told you on Valentine’s.

He looks up at you, confused for a moment, though his face then clears up and he smiles. “Yes, that too,” he confirms, nodding. “Oh, I should show you the crime scene of that once we’re out of here!”

You chuckle, raising your eyebrows. “Crime scene?”

“Oh, yes,” Taehyung says with a grin. “It’s Jungkook we’re talking about here, so of course he had to make a whole thing out of it. He stole Seokjin’s crime scene tape and had an absolute field day.”

You chuckle, deciding not to ask why someone would have crime scene tape in their possession, and why he’d talk so casually about it. “This frat sounds absolutely wild,” you mutter, more to yourself than to Taehyung, though he smiles and nods in reply. Propping your feet up on his chair to hug your knees, you add, “Isn’t it ever too much?”

He laughs, looking down at his lap. “It can be, sometimes,” he admits, looking back up at you. “But that’s why there are coffee shops, right?”

You nod. “Yeah, just for frat bros that want some rest from their frat, and people who write screenplays.”

He laughs, nodding. “And people who are alone on Valentine’s.”

Feeling a soft smile break out, you nod absently. There’s a short silence, and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears as you just… stare at each other. You feel the blood rush up to your entire face as his eyes stay on you, and you take a breath.

“Is there something on my face?” you mutter, unable to avert your eyes from his.

He blinks, seeming to jump out of the trance the both of you were in. “No, I just uh… I was thinking…” He sighs and shakes his head. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way or anything.” The words, the way he says them, the look on his face – they all make you nervous, anxious, even. “Just trying to figure out if you’re here because you wanted to come, or because your friends forced you to.”

Internally, you’re screaming at yourself for being so overtly awkward that he not only noticed it, but that he also seems to be genuinely concerned about it.

Externally, though, you just smile and fidget with your fingers. “Bit of both, I guess,” you confess, cautiously looking up at him from underneath your eyelashes.

A smile is teased across his lips as he tilts his head, a curious look washed over his face. “How come?”

You shrug, looking down at your hands as you play with the denim fabric of your jeans. There’s a ton of different ways you could word the reply, but only a few that won’t ruin the mood. As if there is any in the first place. “I guess they just know when I need to be pushed out of my comfort zone,” you finally say, lifting your head to look at him.

“So I’m outside of your comfort zone, huh?” he teases with a kind smile, drawing a bit of laughter from you.

“Any crush is outside of my comfort zone.”

As soon as the words tumble out of your mouth, your eyes widen and you freeze. Your face reddens and you feel like you could literally fall through his bedroom floor right now, straight into the crowd of partygoers below – and it would still be less embarrassing than this.

You swore to yourself you’d never let yourself go like this again. With the shit you went through last year, when you’d been broken up with through letter and ignored afterwards, you promised yourself you would never put your heart out there again. You’d taught yourself to hate the couples around you, to be disgusted with their public displays of affection, the Instagram posts and the Facebook photos – all so you wouldn’t even be tempted.

All so you wouldn’t feel that pressure on your lungs and the tight feeling in your muscles, the jittery feeling you get when you’re looking at Taehyung, who looks no less shocked with your words than you. He was just being friendly and you fucking ruined it.

"I’m so sorry, that was weird, forget what I said,” you quickly breathe out, getting up from his desk chair and putting it back where it was. “I’ll just uh… go downstairs to check up on Yoongi and his revenge plan,” you add as your hands drop to your sides, balling up into fists, fingernails etching crescent moons into your palms. “Bye!” you finish, rushing towards the door and turning the lock.

“Y/N, wait,” he calls pleadingly and you stop in your tracks, hand hovering over the doorknob. You hear the duvet rustling, then footsteps coming towards you. You could still escape this hell, you know you could. You just have to open the door and run – but you don’t.

You turn to look up at him instead, heart pounding out of your chest along with the bass that penetrates the whole house.

“Did you mean that?” he asks, his brown eyes soft and inquiring, awaiting your answer seemingly without judgement.

You hesitate. Should you be honest, should you lie? Should you try to spin this one way or another, or should you just run and hope you never see him again?

Before you can overthink it too much, he takes the hand that is still hovering above the doorknob, gently bringing it down to your side and letting go. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that this is way outside of your comfort zone,” he says with a soft smile.

You sigh, closing your eyes as you nod. “Just a little.”

“So be honest,” he mutters, his deep voice humming in your ears. “You’re here anyway.”

Your eyes flutter open and you look at him, a sense of calm washing over you when he sends you an encouraging smile, a reassuring nod.

And so, with ever-growing nerves in your belly, you take a breath. “Yeah, I meant that,” you whisper, though you don’t know why you’re talking so lowly. “But I really hope that that won’t change anything. I just –” You sigh, shaking your head, stopping yourself before you go into rant mode. “I don’t know. I just like hanging out with you.”

A smile tugs at his lips and he takes a breath, letting it back out. It fans over your face, allowing you to pick up the scent of raspberry and vodka, and you briefly wonder what he would actually taste like. Quickly stopping yourself while you’re ahead, you avert your eyes.

“Actually,” Taehyung starts, drawing your gaze back to him. “I –”

“TAE!” someone suddenly shouts, making the both of you jump a mile in the air, startled apart. “COME DOWN, HOSEOK DRANK TOO MUCH AGAIN!”

Taehyung closes his eyes and lets out a breath. “Coming!” he shouts into the hallway, turning back to you. “I guess he got his revenge some other way,” he mutters with a bitter smile, although you’re a bit confused by the comment. “Look, before I go, I just need to say –“

“TAE!” the same voice shrieks again, and he lets out another sigh, shaking his head, muttering something you can’t quite make out.

“Yes, yes, coming!” he repeats to the closed door, then looks down at you. “I’m so sorry, I’ll be right back, okay?”

Dazed, you nod, and soon enough, you’re left in Taehyung’s room to yourself, alone with your thoughts. Great. You sigh, looking around, pondering whether you should sit down and wait for him here, though there’s one screaming question that completely overpowers any ability to think clearly about that.

What the hell was he going to tell you?

You couldn’t read anything in his face that would indicate in some type of way what his intentions were, how he actually felt about this stupid fucking crush you’d confessed to. What you do know for damn sure, though, is that he simply left without giving you any indication of what you could expect – and the only reason you can come up with is that he just didn’t know how to break some bad news to you, that he didn’t know how to tell you he didn’t quite feel the same way.

With a groan, you bury your face in your hands, shaking your head. Why did your brain just decide to make you utter those words? What in the world told you that it was the right time and place to break the news to him when you didn’t even want to admit it to yourself?

As the bass continues to boom through you, you drop your hands back to your sides, glancing at the door, now ajar. You should save him the trouble of rejecting you outright, save yourself from the embarrassment of having to look him in the eye while he does it.

You need to get out of here.

previous • next

a/n: yikes, what an ending, hm?👀 I guess the will they/won’t they continues😏😏😏 Anyways, thanks for reading, I really hope you liked it!! Let me know what you thought and what you think might happen next, I’d love to hear from you :)

masterlist

[sawyerknowles6]

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[pklovesdwsart]

Art Minor 2 (Nature & Environment)

This time, no stories to tell (well, maybe one, but I didn’t put it here, haha)! But a whole bunch of stuff I made instead, whoo boy! The theme of this minor was Nature & Environment. I had lots of fun, honestly! I’ll divide it in the 4 subjects I took :). It’s a long post, beware, haha.

Ceramics:

Aaaand the last bit I made! I’ll post a few more :). Especially the glazed ones~!

And that’s about it for ceramics!

Painting & Drawing:

So, this is actually a(n) (abstract) portrait of one of the students. It’s a one-line drawing :). It was, ah, interesting to make for sure....

We also had a session on how to draw “real” portraits.... with, like, the proper proportions and everything. It was interesting for sure!

This is the “self-portrait” I made! There is a lot to be said about this one (also because it is a self-portrait). I’d like to start with the mask. One of the reasons I used it is closely related to an Instagram post of mine (I’ll write it out). Sorry, it’s lone, though. “Lately, I have been forced to think about something I had been thinking years back. About the fact that in this individualistic society, you HAVE to stand out one way or another. I don’t want to. What’s wrong with simply being average and not special at all? What’s wrong with wanting to live a simple life with no particular interesting skills? (yes, I do realise I have some, but it doesn’t make me feel special or like I have to/want to brag about it...). This was something I noticed in particular 2 weeks back (in May, 2019), when my minor started again. We had to draw a realistic scene in the park. Afterwards, we would “redraw” this scene as we felt, heard and saw the things we encountered while drawing, changing the initial drawing drastically. So I did. However, the teacher told me he wanted to “see more of me” in the drawing. But how come he didn’t? The things I felt, saw, heard and fantasised about were all things that came from me and were pictured in the drawing. How is that not me?! Yeah, sure, the girl in my drawing looked manga/anime like. But is that honestly so wrong...? If that’s how I draw, if that’s me, how can you say you want to see more of the “me”? Honestly, I am so sick of this individualistic society that forces you to be “special”, “interesting” or “talented”. Is it so wrong to want to live simply? Is it wrong to not want to be seen as “different from the rest”? Can I just live with a blank face, trying in my own way, on my own conditions?” The mask used in this picture (and the Instagram rant, haha), has the Japanese characters: じ    へ  へ        の の         も        へ (henohenomoheji). They are commonly used to picture a (blank) face. As such, they are mostly used for mob characters, or those of little significance. So the mask itself already symbolises the wish to blend into the masses. On the other hand, the mask can also signify the ability to be flexible. As in, if you have a blank face, it means you are able to “paint over it”. To make yourself be who you want to be. And that clues into my hobby, which is cosplay. I can be whoever I want to be (with the proper means, haha), and that enables me to transform completely. So, yes, the mask signifies a lot to me. And that’s why I decided I wanted the picture to be like this. Because this is me in so many shapes and forms. Continuing on! Photography:

Let’s just say photography is not my thing... Luckily, we had two classes this block period anyway, so I didn’t have to suffer for very long.

Finally! The last subject!

Design:

Ohhhh, I loooooved design! There’s so much I did~ Sooo, we had to gather 5 objects we could find outside (in nature), and we had to take 3 pictures (the top one is said picture). Then we had to write a story based on the object/photograph (mine was a feather, by the way). You had to hand the story over to friends/family/etc., and they had to say one word about the story. So, my two words were “pessimistic” and “inspirational”. Based on those two words, we had to find a new (existing) “picture”. Then we had to bring items that had something to do with the story. So, I brought a ceramic “mountain” (one of the words used in my story) I made last block period. So based on that item, we had to design something around that concept and things that prefferably had to do with the (human) body. Sooo, I went to Wikipedia, and took a look at the words written there. So, that’s when we got to the word “relief” (or terrain, mayhaps). Then I started thinking how that was created (e.i. mountains, and its “relief”). So, that’s when we reached our tectonic plates. And then I started thinking about the fact that a mountain was basically a “print” of the earth (in a way). Okay, got all that? Then hopefully the next part will make sense as well, lol.

So, the first thing I did was woodcutting! I really wanted to try my hand at this, mostly because of my overlapping interest in Japan. I had a lot of fun, honestly! (I’ll put all the prints at the end ;))

Bad lighting is bad.... But after the woodcut, I tried my hand at linocut! Which went a whole lot smoother.... (I bought my own gouge set <3 - absolutely in love with it). I had a lot of fun with these, honestly!

Ah, yes, then I once more did some etching! I intentionally “messed up” the feather one (the stripe in the middle does kind of bother me...) to try and see what happens. I really liked the result of that one a lot! (once more, prints will be put down here~) Finally! I tried my hand at this:

screen printing! I really liked doing this! It’s very interesting to do, yet less intensive than any of the things I had done previously... I really had fun! And you can experiment a lot! Which I didn’t, really, by the way.... (slightly regretted it, but time restraints...). Also, putting Timcanpy on my daily gear is like a dream come true <3. Lovely. Now, time for all the prints!

Because wood is a natural material, it kind of soaks up the ink. So you get a grainy kind of print. It’s spotty, but that’s kind of charming in its own way, I guess?

I made loooots of prints for the linocuts, lol. They are way less spotty, and I really liked them! (the stuff in the very back isn’t mine, by the way).

I also really liked the ink colours I used! I also printed everything on postcard format.

The print is even more interesting in real life!

A very clean print for this one. Such a contrast with the previous one! I like both of them, honestly.

What would we be without a little Timcanpy in our lives~

I also used a natural “print”. Don’t worry, it’s not actual snake skin... But it is actual snake skin shed/moulted skin. It’s from my own snake, Sora <3. So it’s kind of an endless supply, lol.

So, that’s all for the practical subjects! Now, it wasn’t all I did, and I have many, many more photos of the process... But the post wil get waaaaay too long if I want to show everything... So I mostly posted the endresults :).

There is one last thing I want to post here! Which are the “extras”.

Extras:

The sketches we had to make for capturing real life (mentioned at my self-portrait). I do have to mention that on that day it was bloody cold, it was raining, and we didn’t even know we had to be there... So I had a shit day, honestly....

I haven’t finished it, sooooo, I don’t have a very good picture, unfortunately... But this was the drawing I got a loooot of hate on, basically....

Ahhh, here’s the sketch, where you can see it a bit better... So basically, he wnted me to draw it bigger. Which I did. Then he suggested I made a selfportrait (instead of using a manga/anime like character......). Which I did. But don’t have a picture of, I believe. Well, I have a lot of issues with all of this, so I kind of want to drop it. Though I will finish the initial one for sure. I don’t care much for the second, the large, one.....

We also had workshops on drawing a naked model! Which was very interesting! I had never drawn a human/humanlike full-model, well, model. So I had many, many issues at first.... I especially had many issues with (human) proportions. But in the end, I had a lot of fun! I attended a second session (not the third, unfortunately), but I don’t have a picture of it (yet). I might edit it in later, buuuut, not sure...

So, I believe that was all! I had so much fun this period, and I’m super glad I decided to stay (I was only obligated to follow one minor). If I hadn’t, I don’t think that in the end I would be this satisfied. Also, this period was, like, 2 or 3 weeks shorter than previous one... So we were short on time, I guess... I learned a lot, I worked with many different materials, and in the end, I’m very happy. So, here are the final pictures of the ENTIRE table :).

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Imagine that after Helwater Jamie comes home and Jenny insists he marry Mary McNab instead of Laoghaire.  Jamie finally relents and they set up a happy home filled with respect that develops into real, deep phileo love.  It may not be the rock your world type of love that Jamie and Claire had/have but it is solid. Then after 20 years, Claire returns… This one could be really, really angst filled. Thanks for your time mods! 

@jerribwarren submitted:  We all know that if Jamie had to remarry,  Laoghaire was probably the best person for him to marry as a marriage to her was never going to work (between her unrealistic expectations, her jealousy of Claire and Jamie’s apathy after his return from Helwater).  My question is:  don’t you think that if he had married someone (like a Mary McNabb but who wouldn’t necessarily have seen him with Claire) other than Laoghaire, someone he might have actually become friends with and grown to have a genuine affection for, it would have been much harder to reconcile the situation after Claire’s return especially if they had actually had a child or children together?  I would think that he wouldn’t have left his second wife in this situation or would have brought her with him to Edinburgh. I’d appreciate a discussion or even an AU on this subject about how this situation could/would have been resolved.  Thanks and I really love all of the writers for imagine.

Love in Other Words  (Part One of Two)

“I know why the Jews and Muslims have nine hundred names for God; one small word is not enough for love.” - Claire in Voyager

The ancient Greeks had at least four words for love: agape (unconditional love); eros (romantic, passionate, sexual love); storge (familial love); and philia (the love of friendship, regard). 

Jamie and Claire together share all four.

– Mod Lenny

It was Claire. She was really here in the shop with him. At least, he was pretty sure she was real. He could feel the warmth of her in his trembling arms, could smell that fresh, clean scent of her, heard her saying more than just his whispered name. But there was only one way to be completely sure…

“Can I kiss ye?” he asked quietly.

She nodded and blinked at the wetness in her eyes before closing them and tilting her face towards his. Swallowing hard, he refused to close his own eyes as his lips met hers, afraid that she would dissolve just as she had so many times before in his dreams.

But her lips were soft and pliant beneath his own and he let his eyes close as he let his lips part and breathed her in, tasting her as her mouth opened too and their kiss became more desperate, deeper, hungrier.

They parted with a shuddering sigh of relief, knowing they had both felt the same need, the same desire, the same flame that had been there all those years ago. It was still there for them to reclaim if they chose to and heaven help him, but he wanted to––wanted her––more than anything.

He was still getting drunk on the whiskey in her eyes when he heard the door at the front of the shop and Mary’s voice calling his name.

“Jamie? Ye’ll never guess who––” Mary cut off abruptly with a surprised gasp.

“Who’s that?” a familiar voice asked with louder surprise.

Claire stiffened in his arms and her gaze broke from his as she looked over he shoulder at the intruders. He froze, unable to find the words he needed to explain, to push the encroaching world back away from them and the moment they had been sharing when hope had reignited in his heart.

“Oh god,” Claire gasped, pulling away.

Jamie remained speechless and numb in the moment, his mind telling his body to act but his limbs not responding.

Soon after he returned from his parole, Jenny had made the off-hand suggestion that he marry again. He thought he had made his position on the matter clear but come Hogmanay it became apparent that Jenny hadn’t abandoned her opinion and had, in fact, started to take actions of her own to ensure it happened.

When he’d seen her talking with Laoghaire and leading the young widow in his direction, he knew it was with one aim in mind. Before they could reach him he had turned to Mary MacNab who was refilling guests’ drinks and he asked her to dance, setting the half-empty bottle she carried aside before she could find her words. Later, Jenny scolded him about the way he’d avoided Laoghaire all evening.

“Ye want me to court the woman tha’ tried to get Claire burnt for a witch?” he had asked Jenny who looked momentarily surprised but then rolled her eyes.

“No Laoghaire then but ye ought to be wed again and to someone who might give ye bairns. Ye deserve to be happy again, brother.”

“What I deserve is for ye to leave me in peace,” he spat back.

But Jenny’s hints and efforts persisted and Jamie’s resistance wore thin. Jenny wouldn’t leave him be and he knew eventually she would have her way. The best he could hope for was to choose for himself. The thought of having someone to take care of wasn’t completely unwelcome but the memory of Claire and the thought of their child made the idea of raising a family with another woman… He had no desire for that.

He’d been contemplating his prospects when Mary had come to fetch him for Ian and that’s when it occurred to him to marry her. It had been several years since her Rabbie had gone south to London seeking a different life for himself while she remained behind; she too was separated from the person she loved most. He thought she might be able to understand him better than most.

“You’re… you’ve…” Claire stammered glancing between him and Mary before shaking her head and darting away from him and out of the shop.

His mind hadn’t quite caught up to everything that had just happened. Maybe it had all been a vision after all…

Mary’s hand was on his shoulder, rubbing him reassuringly and guiding him to a nearby chair. He could tell she was talking and her tone was soothing but all he could think about was that Claire was gone… again. The flame of hope that had been reignited sputtered and shrank leaving him cold.

The fog of confusion began to clear and he sat up straighter in the chair feeling his face flush with guilt and shame. What must Mary think of it all, walking in and seeing him and Claire like that with…

“Where’s Ian?” he asked, glancing frantically around the shop. It wouldn’t be the first time his nephew had appeared on their doorstep without warning and Mary always made sure to bring the lad to the shop since Jamie was one of the few people he would heed.

“I sent him after Claire,” Mary told him, her posture relaxing now that she could be sure he was coming back to himself. “He’ll slow her down at the least till we can find them and ye can talk to her proper like.”

Jamie looked back at the printing press; he hadn’t finished fixing it––couldn’t remember what had been wrong with it, at the moment––and he had orders still to fill, customers who wouldn’t care that a rug had been pulled out from under his feet and he was still sitting on the floor uncertain whether standing again was possible or if the fall had caused something to break.

“I dinna ken that there’s anything I can say to her that’ll make much difference,” he murmured.

“I think there’s a great deal ye can tell her,” Mary disagreed. “And if you dinna want to say it, then I will. Ye can start by askin’ her no to go again.”

At that he looked at Mary whose eyes crinkled with her familiar, quiet amusement.

“Did ye really think I’d ask ye to let her go?” she asked him, reaching up and tucking in the end of his stock.

“I canna do that to ye,” he protested weakly, “set ye aside like that and leave ye alone without someone to provide for ye.”

“Ye wouldna be settin’ me aside,” she argued softly. “I’m perfectly able to step’ aside wi’out yer help. You and I both ken it willna be difficult for either of us to secure an annulment.”

The ceremony had been smaller even than the hastily arranged one he’d had when he married Claire. He wasn’t as nervous during the ceremony as he had expected to be but by the time they arrived at their small renovated cottage after nightfall, nerves had begun to twist his belly.

Neither had said much of anything to the other as they took in the small space that would now be theirs. One large main room with a hearth and small pantry constituted kitchen, parlor, and study; there was a door to the back that led to the small bedroom.

Mary took off her cloak as Jamie set about shutting the cottage up for the night. When he turned, she had disappeared––presumably into the bedroom––and he sighed with relief.

He shouldn’t overthink this; it wasn’t as though he hadn’t bedded a woman before––it wasn’t as though he hadn’t bedded Mary before. But it had all been different then. I know the look of a true love, and it’s not in my mind to make ye feel ye’ve betrayed it… What I want is to give ye something different. Something less, mayhap, but something ye can use; something to keep ye whole. He wondered if she’d known then that he hadn’t been whole to begin with. But she had given him something and it had helped him then as he faced Ardsmuir. But now… I never had that, she’d confessed. He couldn’t give it to her now either but maybe he could give her something like what she’d given to him in that cave some ten years before.

When he worked up his courage and eased open the bedroom door he could just make out the shape of the bed in the light of the candle. He stopped, puzzled. He didn’t think he’d been standing out in the main room for very long but maybe it had been longer than he realized.

Mary was in bed with the blankets pulled up over her chest; she was turned on her side, her back to the middle of the bed and he could see the stark white of her new shift standing out against the darker wool of the blankets. She appeared to already be asleep.

Quietly, so as not to wake her, he slipped inside enough to close the door behind him and began stripping down to his shirt then eased himself beneath the covers next to her. He lay there on his back with his fingers nervously tapping his chest as he listened to her steady breathing. Should he wake her up so they could get it over with? He scolded himself for thinking of it in such terms; she was his wife now and she deserved more thought and care than that. Still, he didn’t think he’d be able to settle to anything until it was over and the nerves in his belly could be calmed.

But Mary wasn’t asleep.

“Ye ken it doesna have to be like that between us,” she said quietly, startling him.

He froze beside her, felt the bedding shift under him as she strained to look at him over her shoulder.

“I ken ye didna wed me because ye wanted to bed me,” she continued, no self-pity in her voice. “And I dinna want ye that way if ye only see it as bein’ yer duty.”

“It’s no as though we havena… before,” he answered.

“And I ken it helped and hurt ye to do it then. Ye feel yerself bound to yer Claire still and I’ll no have ye takin’ me to bed only to feel regretful about it later. I’ve been in marriages where one of us was lyin’ wi’ the other from duty and I’ll no be the one askin’ ye to do the same; it doesna make for the best of marriages in my experience.”

He felt a stab of sorrow both for himself and for her. He would forever feel himself bound to Claire and sorrowed that Mary seemed so resigned she would never know what a love like that felt like. But he couldn’t give that to her, whether she wanted that or not and she had wed him knowing that.

“So why did ye agree to marry me then?” he couldn’t help asking.

“I suppose for the same reason you asked me.”

“Was Jenny tryin’ to make a match wi’ you and another fellow ye didna care for so much?” The joke caught him by surprise but to his relief Mary laughed. It was a quiet laugh, startled by itself.

“No,” she finally said with a sigh. “I’ve been servin’ yer family at Lallybroch for years now––as ye well know––but since my Rabbie left… It’s different, servin’ folk an’ no buildin’ a home for yerself… no havin’ someone to really care for, to build a home with…”

“Aye…” Jamie murmured. “I ken what ye mean.”

“I thought ye would,” Mary said with satisfaction. “Caidil gu math… Jamie,” she added with hesitation.

“Caidil gu math, Mary,” Jamie responded, relaxing into the warmth of a shared bed and the quiet night. It was becoming clear that navigating this new marriage wouldn’t quite be what he had expected earlier but he was also beginning to suspect that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Claire hadn’t looked back as she burst into the street. She was still too disoriented by everything. Seeing Jamie again––touching him, holding him and being held by him––that had all been overwhelming and emotional, more than she could have imagined. And she had known that there was a possibility that he had moved on, that he would have known she believed him dead at Culloden and therefore unlikely to ever return for him. Life was too long to be lived alone; too short to waste it wallowing in grief and sorrow.

“Hey!” she heard a youthful voice calling behind her and made to step out of the way so the lad could get past and reach whomever it was he was trying to catch up with.

But then she felt him reach out and tap her on the arm repeating, “Hey,” breathlessly.

“Me?” she asked in disbelief even as she searched his face for a resemblance to Brianna. The shape of the eyes was right but his coloring was all wrong and while he had the promise of Jamie’s height, he hadn’t endured the growth spurt that would give him the muscles his father possessed.

“Aye,” the boy panted. “Ye’re…”

“I’m leaving,” she interrupted. “You can go home and tell your mother that I won’t be bothering you again.”

The lad’s face twisted with confusion. “My mam? Ye mean Mary? She’s no my mam and Uncle Jamie’s no my da.”

The wave of relief nearly knocked Claire off her feet. The boy wasn’t Jamie’s. And the more she looked at him the more she could see the marks of Jenny and Ian in him––the Fraser slanted eyes if not the color and his gangliness was certainly more in the vein of Ian’s build than Jamie’s. “You’re Jenny and Ian’s boy,” she guessed.

“Aye. Named for my da. Will ye no come back, Auntie Claire? Ye are my Auntie Claire, are ye no? Mary said it’s who ye were. I ken a bit about ye––Mam and Da always said ye were deid but they’d tell tales about ye of a time when Uncle Jamie wasna around. It always makes him sad to talk of ye, even after he wed Mary MacNab,” young Ian Murray rambled. “Mam thinks it’s why they left Lallybroch for Edinburgh; said they’ve too many ghosts roaming there between them. She blames herself for stirrin’ up yer ghost by pushing Uncle Jamie to wed agin though she also says she’d as soon he be content in Edinburgh than miserable at Lallybroch.”

The sheer volume of words and the pace at which he spoke them left Claire blinking and uncertain.

“I… I am Claire,” she said, no longer quite sure of even that simple fact. “But… I’m not interested in disrupting anything. I just thought… I had heard that Jamie… I don’t know what I was thinking,” she confessed turning to continue up the road. She wasn’t even sure if she was headed in the right direction.

“But… ye came back for him… Ye canna just leave,” Ian objected.

“And I can’t just stay, either,” Claire retorted, unsure why she was bothering to argue with the young teenager. “What about his wife?”

Ian shrugged dismissively. “She’s the one sent me to get ye.”

“What? Why would she do that?”

“I dinna ken. Why don’t ye come wi’ me and ask her?”

Claire looked at the eager lad, her heart aching to believe that if she went with him there was a chance it might stop and curious to see what Jamie’s new wife might have to say.

In the early days of their marriage, Jamie was surprised by how little he knew about Mary and how much she knew about him.

“I served at Lallybroch for near twenty years,” Mary pointed out with a laugh when he expressed his surprise aloud. “Ye think I wouldna notice such about everyone that lived there––especially the laird himself?”

Jamie flushed. “I’m no the laird and Lallybroch’s no mine anymore; and how many of those twenty years did I live under the roof, eh? No even five did ye string all the nights together.”

“Yer nephew may be possessed of the land and the house, but ye ken weel enough to all the tenants as are old enough to remember, ye’ll be the true laird till the day ye die. No sense denyin’ it.”

He chose not to argue but rather to change the subject.

“Have ye heard from Rabbie of late? He’s settled in London still?”

“Aye,” she had smiled before giving Jamie a summary of the last letter she’d had from him.

It took time and effort to get her to talk about herself and her past. As she began to trust him with more of the details of herself and her first two marriages, he found himself sharing more than he expected about his past as well, specifically Claire. He had long ago gotten used to the ache and yearning for her; it was simply a part of him at that point. The comfort of being able to talk of her though, that was new. He couldn’t understand why talking of her with Mary was more soothing and less painful than talking of Claire with people who had known her better––Jenny or Ian. Perhaps it was because Mary didn’t seem to pity him for having been broken by the loss; she too was a little broken.

Though they grew to understand and appreciate each other, the match itself was considered an odd one by the families that lived and worked around the estate. Mary had been right about folk still viewing Jamie as the laird and the laird––even one as respected and compassionate as Jamie––was not supposed to marry one of his servants. It was a fact that might have been overlooked were it not for the never-to-be-forgotten fact of Ronald MacNab and his betrayal.

Everyone had pitied Mary at the time and quietly judged Ronald for what he did to his wife and child whenever he’d been drinking. Everyone who heard about the beating Jamie had given the man his mistreatment of those whose care belonged to him had agreed the bullying drunkard deserved it. Everyone had banded together to see justice done for their laird when Ronald betrayed Jamie. Everyone had settled down to their lives after the fire, content that balance had been restored when Mary along with her Rabbie were taken in at Lallybroch and given occupation.

But Jamie marrying Mary––even so many years later––unsettled that balance in ways that couldn’t be explained. It cast events long past in a questionable light; it elicited narrowed eyes; it encouraged tongues to wag.

Neither Jamie nor Mary was oblivious to the change and neither wanted to be at the center of such attentions. After going to Edinburgh to fetch some things that Jenny wanted for up at the main house, Jamie proposed a change and Mary agreed that one fresh start deserved another.

“I want ye to be happy,” Mary insisted quietly to Jamie.

“I wasna unhappy,” he pointed out to her, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Before I was but… no wi’ you.”

“I’m glad of that,” she told him with a smile. “But I ken ye well enough to know that ye will be if ye let her go again. She can give ye more of what ye need than I can. I’m no ashamed to admit it.”

“And have you been happy?” Jamie asked in turn, suddenly afraid.

“Aye,” she assured him with a nod. “It’s been a peace I didna ken was possible in marriage and for that I’ll always be thankful to ye. I dinna want ye thinkin’ ye havena treated me well.”

“What does it matter how I’ve treated ye in our marriage if I leave it to end like this? I’ll no leave ye wi’out someone to provide for ye.”

“I ken well ye’re too honorable a man to do somethin’ like that, James Fraser.”

“Ye canna stay in a city like this on yer own and goin’ back to Lallybroch would be an insult to ye that I couldna countenance. And there’s nothin’ to say that Claire… She may no want me back…”

“Well, ye’ll never ken for certain if ye dinna talk wi’ her. And ye’re right about Lallybroch; we left for a reason. But ye ken Rabbie’s been after me to visit him in London. He’s wed now and I’ve yet to meet the lass,” Mary mused. “First things first, though. Go after Claire.”

Jamie nodded and rose brushing himself off. Mary set about untying his heavy leather apron for him and gave him directions for the way Ian had set off after Claire.

“I’ll speak wi’ Geordie and lock up here,” she told him. “Then I’ll stop at the butcher and start on supper. Ian will be lookin’ for food after runnin’ about. Mhá lorg thu i.”

(To be continued)