#the colours and designs and everything changed a bit

[jae-birde]

(Please click for detail, i worked hard on this)

A redraw of a piece I did a few months ago for Perc'ahlia Week, and I decided that today would be the perfect day to share!

(My original version can be found here if you wanna compare)

[werezmastarbucks]

best of luck! ~bangtan

silly!tormented!yoongi x clueless!f!MUA!reader

summary: years spent under your gentle, caring hand, make Yoongi realize he is in love with you. the problem is: how does he go about it? what if a confession, or a move, topples the fragile, curated, professional peace? his first mistake is going to his members for advice.

author's note: Yoongi is a bit stupid but you are outright dense lmao. i once wrote this story per a request and now the idea of Yoongi trying out the six different methods of hitting up on a girl visited me again and i found it funny. also: why do i mention excel in all my fics? is it a disorder?

warnings / tags: clueless reader, skinny love, mega sweet/flirty Yoongi, it's supposed to be comedy hopefully, swearing, lil bit of fuckboying, dramatic present, angst if you really search for it, fluff fluff FLUFF, shmexual tension, suggestive dialogues, bangtan boys demonstrate flirting techniques on each other?? Yoongi's pov mostly. my favourite genre of bangtan: slightly silly, good, overenergetic guys. Tom Cruise references throughout? bc i was a Tom Cruise fan even before BTS was even a thing

word count: 11500

Yoongi knows no other make up artist wears perfume on their wrist. The crew generally tries not to wear any strong scents when working because the dressing rooms are smallish, and the amount of people, each one with the distinctive smell, makes it bad enough as it is. Jimin smells like cotton candy all the time, and, as if it's not irritating on its own, he pours the fragrance on himself every morning or maybe even takes a shower of it. So one can imagine the sensory overload of it all; cramped in a small chair, swung and pulled in all directions, bright light hitting the eyes, someone's fingers pulling his eyelids apart and poking his eyeball with colour lenses. And in the middle of it - a small island of peace, streamlined concentration. Subtle, flowery, calm smell of the perfume on your wrist. Once you put your hand to his face, brushing over an eyebrow, Yoongi feels calm, enveloped in it like it's a hug. He had smelt it on you once, years ago, and mentioned it - and you didn't have to be told twice. Yoongi isn't sure, but he prefers to believe you started putting it on the gentle, sensitive spot on your wrist to keep him happy.

It's a small, caring, friendly gesture.

He realizes he is attuned to it because he is focused on you more than anybody. The discovery doesn't hit, or slap him; he finds it pretty well-expected. Spending so much time undone before you, putting his face up for you, maintaining eye contact, breathing in your flowers, he found it difficult to resist falling in love. You are, after all, incredibly funny, muttering under your nose as you work his birthmarks back into places, contouring his nose, retelling him the gossip from behind the scenes. You know his features intimately. You notice the changes in it. You're the first of all to say something when the dark circles under his eyes become prominent. You know his skin; what it needs; how it glows; what you do not realize, he is certain, is that all the while your eyes are concentrated on his face, he is watching you back. How your eyelashes flutter when you think, and how your brows draw together when you pinch one stray hair from his chin. It's sweet, unassuming intimacy that becomes almost unbearable. He looks around. Jimin always fucks with his make up artist Hana, turning his head, puffing cheeks, bobbing, laughing and making her laugh - because he is almost always bored. Namjoon tells his designated carer about everything he heard or read in the last 24 hours. Jungkook keeps flirting with them so they rotate all the time. At some point Yoongi can't even play around or feel completely relaxed anymore because he becomes hyper aware of your soft, warm, flower-scented hands. He catches himself once, leaning into your palm, when you put it on the side of his face to brush his hair. And he is thankful to no end when you take it as sleepiness.

Yoongi is a problem solver. He is a grabber. When he was little, every time he won a toy in the claw machine, he would grab it and press it to his chest and not let go for hours in the fear of someone taking it away. This attitude stayed with him. He likes to hold on to things, to people. He likes hugs and pressing something - someone - to himself to make sure it's not going away.

But before he can do that with you, completely sure he doesn't want to let go of you in the nearest future, he needs to solve this.

His shoulders slouch slightly when you whisper,

"Have you heard Hana got this hu-uge flower arrangement from Joon? So painfully cringe".

Your face is so close that now he can feel your fresh, warm breath on his cheek. Had it been anybody else, he'd be fine with it, maybe even look away.

"Joon? Namjoon?" he hoots, surprised. You shake your head,

"No, Joon the cameraman. He asked her out. Right at the office. With flowers", your mouth curls into an interesting shape, upper lip going up, "ugh".

Yoongi can't hold back a chuckle.

"Why do you hate love?"

"I don't hate love", you soften up a bit, then your hand tilts his head back slightly, gently, like it always does. He loves being handled by you; fingers attentive, never in a rush, always remembering he is a human first. Sometimes you even give him a tickle to raise his mood, and now, to his very vivid devastation, he starts taking it as signals.

"I just think it's kinda..."

"Cringe?"

"The cringe that makes me go uu-u-ghhh-ghhhaa", you explain. Yoongi bites his lip to stop his head from shaking with laughter. Your finger gets to it immediately and releases his lip from his teeth: tint already applied.

"How is it supposed to happen then, you think?" he is trying to sound ironic, maybe even a little challenging.

"I think..." you pause. For a second, you two look each other in the eye like partners in crime.

"I don't really know. But not that".

He nods. Sniffs. Takes a mental note. Not that. He picks up the flowers from the delivery guy that had been called up earlier, and passes them on to an assistant whose birthday was a week ago. She gives him a stink eye.

Yoongi can't escape the scrutiny because when he is preoccupied, his shoulders do the thing: they go forward, protecting the ribcage where the weakest part of him resides. He blinks several times at the computer, seeing lines, numbers, codes, but nothing of essence.

Hoseok raises his eyebrow, catching up on the silence that's just a different flavour of the usual one.

"Hyung, isn't it working out?"

Yoongi's fist is supporting his cheek and now he raises his head, looking around. The room is full of his boys, watching him like they are the expecting birdlings, mouths open, waiting for worms. He weighs everything. All the pros and cons. Hoba, Namjoon and Jin are the pros. Maknaes are the cons. It's unsolvable, because in situations where a final vote should decide the fate of the future, Yoongi is the one who chimes in and tips the balance. Now there's three for three, and he is paralyzed a little, wallowing just for a second in the weakness of undecidedness.

"I need to come clean", he says finally, before he can shut his mouth. What's done is done. He wouldn't be able to hide it for much longer anyway; with the boys, he is pretty open, not seeing any reason to clutter the mind with unnecessary secrets.

"About?" Jimin asks.

"Did you delete the cloud again?!" Namjoon heaves himself off the sofa with his strong arms, panicking.

"What? No", Yoongi grumbles, then scratches his head, "I'm not talking about the work".

"Ohh", Jungkook hums, "he is talking about Y/N".

"You're still hung up on her?" Seokjin wonders, changing his feet, crossing legs like he is about to give the best damn advice Yoongi's heard in his life.

"What do you mean still? It only happened recently", it's been three seconds, and he already hates talking about it. Should've kept everything to himself.

"Pretty sure it's been forever", Jin hammers, and there's an undertone to his voice, "why now?"

Yoongi groans. His hands cover his face instinctively, the fingers slide up and grab the hem of the hat to pull it down. Hoba's hands land on his shoulders from behind and give him a supportive squeeze.

"Any time is great. Love is beautiful. You deserve it".

Seokjin doesn't let go; grabbed into it like a shark. He continues:

"You've been flirting for a great while, and still nothing. You sure she feels the same?"

"Wehaventbeenflirting", Yoongi muffles from behind his hands, still refusing to peek out.

"Just say it", Namjoon helps. He sits back down on the sofa taking a half of it at once. The other half is occupied by Jungkook, and them two look at each other contemplatingly.

"There's nothing better than flowers and a date. Easy, classy, traditional-"

"What Joon did with Hana", Yoongi replies, finally looking up. He takes off his hat and crumples it in his hands, and Hoseok's flexible palm gets into his hair immediately to ruffle it. Even a simple touch like this reminds of you.

"See? All Joons think alike", the leader agrees with a satisfied dimple smile.

"Y/N told me it was the worst thing in the world", Yoongi retorts, "that it's cringe, and outdated, and lame, and awful, and he should go to jail".

Namjoon's face takes a pained expression and freezes. Jungkook chuckles.

"Y'all fools if you think you can lure her with your lame flowers".

"The best way is to let it happen naturally", Seokjin returns reinforced with pessimism, lecturing and fatalistic resolve. His hand slaps Taehyung's palm who is poking at something in his own pants. Keeps an eye on everybody's ticks. Severs everybody's dreams.

"If a girl doesn't react to you staring into her eyes every day, then you should think about it before embarrassing yourself. I advise you: do not chase the woman, make the woman chase you. Make sure your heart is safe".

Yoongi frowns at this.

"And how do you picture that? Run away when she wants to put foundation on me?"

Seokjin offers a charming grin.

"Sometimes I think you are slightly divergent".

There's a surprising round of approving hum going through the room.

"Don't take it so literally. Just... make her jealous. See where it takes you".

At first Yoongi thinks that he will never, ever engage in something as stupid as that. As he looks into his only hyung's face, illustrious as the moon, he thinks to himself, no. It's dumb. He's not a manipulator, he's a grabber.

But he can't just grab you out of nowhere.

Seokjin

Yoongi plops into the chair, tugging on the bottom of his wide shirt, and your hand immediately grabs his fingers.

"How are your thumbs?" you ask, a bit strict, observing. His mind is better nowadays. Your delicate fingers with glowing, neat nails wrap around his palm in the way that makes him think of hand holding. He jerks his hand away as per instruction. He is the chased, not the chaser.

"It's okay", he grumbles, crossing his arms on his chest. He sees your slightly surprised, a little amused expression in the mirror.

"Someone's in a bad mood?"

"No, just don't like it when you micromanage me".

He pouts unwillingly, drawing his eyebrows together. Watches you as you purse your lips to hide a smile. It's not working and it will not work, he can see it. But the phone screen already lights up with a call, and he has to pick up. As you turn him around in the chair and take the hairbrush, Yoongi answers the call.

"Oppa", Seokjin whines in a thin voice, "will you take me out for a coffee today?"

His teeth bite on the inside of his lip so hard that he almost hurts himself. The sensation of your light hand parting his hair is taking all the focus and he is torn between laughing and swearing.

"No, not..." what is he supposed to say? There's no script. It's just Jin. Pretending to be a girl.

He is twenty-six years old...

"Not today".

"Why oppa?" Seokjin stretches. It's clear he hates it as much as Yoongi does. But Jinnie always wanted to be an actor, like Tom Cruise. Let him act. This is his Swan Lake.

"I miss you. You promised to take me to the Namsan mountain and kiss me in the dusk under a wisteria tree!"

Yoongi puts his elbow on the armrest of the chair and covers his mouth. He has to employ the concert trick of squinting and hiding his face, pretending to cry, because he can't hold it in anymore. You are quiet, burshing his hair like he's in therapy. The first several minutes are always soft, relaxing, it's never a rush with you. He could've spent that time staring at you in the mirror, but instead he has to fight back the roar, sighing with his whole upper body.

"Can we talk about this when I'm not busy?" he chokes out. Suddenly, your hand taps on his shoulder. And he notices your eyes. Laughing. Attentive. Observing.

"You're not that busy".

"Who is there with you?" Seokjin shrieks. Has he forgotten he isn't the one who's supposed to be jealous?

"Oppa!"

"I am hanging up", Yoongi sighs, opening his mouth wider to let the air come in. Breathe, Min Yoongi. Just breathe.

"You can't just call me anytime you please", he continues, "we've broken up forever ago".

"Oppa, you will never get away from me!" Seokjin yells, "is she prettier than me? Tell me the truth!"

Yoongi puts the phone away from his ear carefully, like it's a rabid rat that's about to bite off his face, and finishes the call. Then places it back on the desk, his eyes dry like tree bark. He is afraid of looking in the mirror, where you slide the hair straightener in between his locks.

"God dammit. She is loud", you chuckle.

Yoongi gulps.

"Crazy ex".

"Can't blame her", your hand pats him on the cheek, almost like you own him, "you are so pretty. Dumped by Suga?" you suck the air through your teeth, "shit luck".

He can't believe it, searching for your eyes in the mirror.

"Do you want to keep the bangs curly, or straight?" you look at him with kindness. You always go with what he wants instead of what's in the stylist's lookbook.

Council

Yoongi is nibbling on his finger, staring into the computer like it can suck him inside and give him peace.

It was a tiny failure, really, but it feels like the abyss is opening up below him and taking him feet first. You are so nonchalant about it, so easy. Not a muscle twitching in the face.

You probably don't care about him. Maybe, after all these years of putting make up on him, covering his imperfections, correcting his features, you don't even see him as a man.

"What if we..." Seokjin is now shockingly invested. Went from fatalistic indifference to full plotting mode, but Jimin's hand stops him.

"No, you're out. Your plan didn't work, now it's my turn".

Yoongi raises his eyes at Jimin with horror.

"Is that how it's going to go?"

He nods.

"Show me how you flirt".

Yoongi blinks hard, as his hand lands on top of his head, and he feels the tip of his hat. He looks at himself in the mirror. Ears out, earrings dangling, he looks like a little gnome in sweatpants.

"Can I just die", he mutters. Jimin shakes it off.

"Come on. Let's see if what you've been doing even constitutes as flirting".

"No".

Jimin bulges his eyes.

"That's what you've been doing, right? Look at me. Like this?"

He stares at him, trying to do an impression.

"Simply ogling isn't flirting, hyung".

Jimin shakes his beautiful head full of cloud-white soft hair. A mane of pretty. His big eyes change with a pleasant shade of a hidden smirk, pupils concentrated. The air stops. Jimin lifts his chin, showing just a glimpse of shining, sharp teeth.

"That", he says, as his hand slides up, and the tip of the finger bothers the little silver hoop in Yoongi's ear, "is how you flirt".

Yoongi flinches, his lips baring his teeth. Just like you did, when talking about Joon and Hana. Jimin cocks his head, eyes grabbing at him; this gaze is choking, smothering. Jimin has a demonic skill of kissing from a distance.

"You seem a bit jumpy today", he utters, his voice like a sweet string, "anything happened? Yeppeuni?"

He does half a blink. I don't want to look away from you blink.

"I get it", Yoongi huffs, grouped like he is about to be ambushed. "I don't flirt like this".

"I'll teach you", Jimin snaps back to his normal self, and the painful, heavy mist of sensuality fades away from the room. Somewhere, Taehyung sighs with relief.

"No need. I think if I do it your way, she'll smack me on the nose".

Jimin nods.

"You have natural charm about you. Use it, hyung. Use your brain".

Jungkook hums like he doubts it.

2. Jimin

The wind keeps blowing the cut grass horizontally, the gusts so strong that all the hairdo comes undone in minutes. Other stylists panic. They run around, drop the products on the ground, chase the members. You. You are cool. You simply scoff at the wind and measure Yoongi with your eyes before leading him into the tent, away from the strom.

"I'll just fixate it up, what do you think?" you mutter, and he smiles.

"Ever gets tiring?" he muses.

"What?" you cover his face with your palm, ready to apply the spray, then start plucking the grass out of his hair.

"Being the best?"

"Dunno, you should answer that".

You fence off his jabs like a pro tennis player.

That's the problem.

Jimin thinks Yoongi is simply an idiot, but Jimin doesn't see how immune you are to flirting. Whatever Yoongi says, you always turn it around. You're like a vaccine against the toxicity. He tells you you look good, you turn it around, swinging him in his chair, and pointing to him in the mirror. Yoongi says you smell nice and you say it's the mist you apply on him. It's like you refuse to take it. Which is alarming.

You adjust his hair, not even a little nervous under his intense glance. He doesn't even blink. It's not I don't want to look away, it's the I want to look until by eyeballs dry out. You simply look back and smile, and he wobbles. Your finger rubs under his eyes to get the dust out.

"Tsk".

"All work in vain? We can do all over again".

"You in good mood now?"

You throw these little murmurs like a ball to each other, Yoongi clawing at the edge, but the edge refuses to come up sharp.

"I'm always in a good mood".

"Huh".

"When you're around".

"Aww".

Your hand tries to take the hoop out of his ear, and he bobs his head slightly.

"Sorry. Did it hurt?"

"No", he smirks. Then bobs again.

"Yoongi", his name comes out of your mouth with almost a moan, a bright shade of purple, a soft brush against his face. He grins. You have to grab and fixate his chin to take the earring off, and then you wrestle for the other one. Eventually, you push him into the chair and he crashes down but keeps messing around, so you are forced to hold his head with both your hands. Quite used to that: you must see the boys get bored all the time, and the only way to release it sometimes is to be unbearable.

You put in the other earrings and clasp them in his ears carefully, then he says,

"Scratch please".

Your fingers tickle behind his ear.

"Here?"

"Lower".

"The neck?"

"Yeah", he hums, deep, tilting his head forward. For a second, you oblige, then your fingers get stiff as you deliver a pinch on the back of his head.

"Don't get paid enough to be your masseuse as well".

"It could be a trade", he offers, face still down. He finds it easier like this, when nobody can see his expression. Why can't he take off his face completely and live unknown? It doesn't usually take so much stamina to simply flirt with someone - and yet, now, Yoongi is almost sweating.

You lift his head up and take the brush to fix the makeup. His curious eyes crawl up on you immediately.

"What do I get then?"

"...coffee".

All hope in the world in one little universal word.

It was you who told him once that "coffee" is the most consistent word across languages. It sounds the same in almost any country, any tongue. Wherever you are, if you ask for a coffee, you will most likely get it. He half-blinks, looking at you. And yet, you fence it again, like a sword master, grimacing.

"You bring me coffee all the time anyway. For free!"

He sighs.

"Thought you didn't notice".

"I appreciate it".

And just like that, it's over. You clean his face and release him back into the wild where the summer wind from the sea thrashes grass and sand around.

Council

He bangs his head against the wall, and Hobi, eyes full of concern, runs to him and puts his palm in between Yoongi and the hard wood.

"Maybe we should take a more classical approach", Namjoon tries again.

"There's no we in it", Yoongi mumbles.

"Oh, there is we alright", Hoseok protests, "we just aren't doing well enough".

Jungkook is chewing on his lip, his eyes huge like two plates. Every time Yoongi comes round to report, he gets more and more contemplative, and Yoongi isn't sure he likes that preoccupied expression on maknae's face. Jimin pouts; had offered to flirt with you instead of Yoongi, on his behalf, and almost got slapped.

"Yes", Taehyung erupts suddenly, "yes".

Sitting on the floor, he is staring at himself in the huge mirror, while stretching. Speaking to himself, too.

"Classic is good. To an extent. You know all that meet-cute? Put a twist on it".

Yoongi frowns. You've met years ago. Cute has always been there. So far, he isn't following. Taehyung lets his gaze travel throughout the room, loading the data, and for a second there Yoongi even thinks V might cook something. He is sophisticated. And he never got dumped in his life. At the very least, Taehyung is original.

"Extreme situations make people fall in love quicker", Taehyung says, "experiencing fear together bonds people", he looks at his hyung.

"You suggest we get mugged together?" he asks darkly.

Jungkook opens his mouth and gasps:

"That could work!"

Namjoon tries to cut it before Jungkook pulls his t-shirt onto his head with excitement. Of course he will volunteer to be the mugger.

"A bit too extreme? I meant like..."

Maknaes cut him off.

"Well, mugging might be a bit too basic. I meant something like... getting stuck somewhere together. Like during a storm... you know all doors are electronic", he motions towards the exit, "they did get jammed once, last year. And people got stuck together for hours".

He shrugs. Yoongi raises his eyes to the ceiling and looks at the lights to let them blind himself. Then, as the white burns his retina, he actually gets an idea. Dumb, infantile, but it's not dumber than Seokjin pretending to be an ex girlfriend.

"Okay".

The others are surprised. They turn heads to him, Taehyung's eyebrows and legs both up.

"Okay?"

"We'll be on Namsan on Friday, right?" he shrugs. Shrugs, trying to shake off this idea while he still can. But it doesn't come off.

"And you'll kiss Jin under the wisteria tree?" Jimin wonders. Seokjin snaps his head towards them.

"The cable road is old", Yoongi says. Taehyung's face is slowly lighting up in a smile. He looks at Jungkook who is getting the signal transmission straight into his brain, and also begins grinning.

"You got it".

He closes his eyes and pictures the slope of the hill where the cable cars start their ascent to the top. He prays his life won't be over on Friday, but if he ends up getting killed together with you, because Jungkook smashes the engine with a hammer, at least... at least... no, he got nothing.

3. Taehyung

The sky is cast, and he sees you are judging it silently. Your hands clutch the makeup kit, and Yoongi hooks the belt and tugs it away from you.

"Thanks".

He nods. Always the good boy. Jungkook got this habit from him: help out a little, to the people around. It won't hurt. Problem is, Yoongi is helping so much that it has become a norm, not a gesture.

"If it rains, we're screwed".

"We'll have to move very quickly", director says, heaving the huge camera into a car that's slowly crawling away, and jumping after it. You aren't convinced. There's an adorable wrinkle in between your brows.

"I'm not actually made of sugar, you know", he jokes, and you sniff half-heartedly. Yoongi looks above your shoulder where Jimin rolls his eyes as far as he can with disapproval.

Hana tugs you by the hand as the next car approaches, and you walk behind her to jump in. Jimin steps in front of you, unclasping your hands in one nonchalant motion.

"Sorry, Y/N, this is the star car. You're going in the next one", he smiles. You raise your eyebrows.

"Can't I ride with my stylist?" he whines. The car is coming. There's not much time to think. He pulls poor Hana after himself.

"I have ridden with you plenty!" Hana protests in shrill voice, and you chuckle. They get inside, and your friend shoots you a miserable glance. The flowers and asking out didn't work out after all. Joon should've known better.

Yoongi is at your shoulder, muttering,

"Is it 'ride with your make up artist' day?"

"Jimin's just feeling cunty again", you suppose. He catches the car with his strong hand and opens the door for you. You get inside and keep the door open, but, as Yoongi sits next to you, you are met with a bunch of blank faces, looking away. The door closes.

He looks outside. The sky is getting greyish. Maybe it will rain after all, and the whole shooting will have to be called off. Back an hour ago, when you all left the building, it was sunny.

"Are you cold?" he checks. You shake your head gently.

"Weather changed".

"Yeah".

If it goes on like that, Yoongi will simply jump out and crash on the ground. That surely will be better. Your knee brushes slightly against his as the car begins the painfully slow ascent, surrounded by the green of the hill and the grey of the world. Seoul is falling lower and lower, left behind. He is watching you: you look out every time, like you've never seen the view before. He thinks about what's going to happen if he just takes your hand. Just takes it, the pretty fingers, flowery wrist, carefully manicured nails, - and doesn't let go. Yoongi doesn't want it to turn sore. Feeling in love is amazing and inspiring, but he knows there will be a point in the future when it starts bringing him pain. You turn to him like there has been a conversation going, easy, ignoring the awkward pause.

"So, what's up?"

He hums instead of response. Pushes a gulp down his throat, then steadies himself. The car swings very slightly as the iron thread crawls above the roof, pulling you both up the mountain.

"Your lips are all eaten off".

Yoongi's teeth catch the lower one like it was a command. He is horrified. He should have known: you read him like a newspaper, off his face. You know his allergies because they come through on his skin. His bad habits. How he chews food. How he sleeps. Because his face is your job. He wonders then if he comes across as lovable at all - does he withstand such close observation?

"Album", he says.

"Album?"

"Yeah".

"You're doing all the mastering on your own again?"

"I'd rather not let anybody else do it".

You smirk and reach for him, and for a second Yoongi thinks a hug is coming. But your hand unzips the make up kit and plunges inside, shuffling through products. You pull out a small bottle.

"Take it home and do the eyes, you start looking tired again".

"Okay".

He takes it, fingers clashing. Then it comes: somewhere at the base, Jungkook 'accidentally sits his ass down on the lever', and the whole cable abruptly stops, sendind a shock wave through the array of cars.

As it happens, the kit slides off Yoongi's knees, open, and everything that was inside - is now outside. The serum is yanked from in between your hands, too, by acceleration still going in the air, and the noise of the clatter fills the car. You gasp, yelp, while Yoongi instinctively puts his arm across your chest to keep you in place. Well, almost instinctively: it's not like he hadn't calculated this moment. The swing is so powerful that the car jerks to and fro like a little bell on a thread. Someone shrieks in the next one.

"Shit- fuck! God dammit!" you yell once you gain your orientation back. There are slits below, under the doors, and the small things like eyebrow brushes roll over and fall down. You get to your knees and start gathering the products. Yoongi takes a second to squeeze his eyes shut and take a breath. Meet-cute in the most perverse form imaginable.

"Oh, I am getting nauseous", you grumble from the floor, and he slides after you, taking you by the shoulder.

"Then sit, I'll get it".

You tilt your head back and look out.

"What happened? Oh my god, are we going to die?"

He sniffs.

"Don't think so. It must have jammed".

It's still swinging, and he has to employ his cat balance skills to stay up while he is gathering every little thing scattered from the kit.

"I've seen a movie about it. I know if we jump, we will break our legs", you continue. Yoongi looks up at you.

"We won't have to jump. They will fix it in no time".

He even grins a little, thinking you're overreacting. That is good. He can just scoot over and comfort you a little.

Which he is trying. Putting the 90% complete kit on the seat across from himself, he sits back and rests his hand in between you.

Realizes he's never done this. Directly. He has never been in a situation where he had to chat someone up lowkey. All his life, Yoongi has been the chased. Even before he became Suga. Girls at school sent him notes. The invitations were sent through the whispers. Phone numbers written on a heart-shaped piece of paper were delivered to his desk. He has been spoiled by life, spared of the need to act on it. And now his hand rests on the faded blue plastic seat in between you, and he can picture your quick foot kicking him out of the car if he dares to touch you.

You finally snort with irritation. He understands why immediately. The first plop-plop of the rain rattles on the roof, and he looks up through the window.

"Wow".

"All coming together", you jeer, ironic-cheerful. He grins at that. You cross your arms on your chest. The moment drags.

Say it.

Just say it.

I like you. I like you a lot. I like you enough that it will get you kicked out of the company, probably. I like you so much I can't write songs that aren't about you anymore.

A song was his own plan number one. You listened to it. It flew right over your head. You barely heard into it, he bets. He is completely off your radar.

"You feeling okay?" he asks, recalling what you said a minute ago. You nod.

"Yeah, the swinging was a little too sudden at first, but I'm fine".

"If you need to throw up, we gotta lose all the makeup".

You laugh, wince, chuckle, all at the same time. Your hand taps his palm lying on the seat, and Yoongi seizes this moment to grab it. He is a grabber. Fingers catch yours and you give him a comforting look.

"Oh. You're afraid of heights, aren't you?"

It's like every time he makes a step closer to you, your brain finds a way to justify it.

Yoongi lies,

"Terrified".

Your thumb strokes the back of his hand. Now he has a reason not to look out the window and instead stare at you. The rain starts banging louder, and you frown. The sound is quite pleasing; hissing grows, summery whisper, and the car is getting filled with refreshing chill. You say the words he has been craving to hear.

"It is getting colder".

He nods, pulling you closer, and you let his arm wrap around your shoulder. Instead of giving him a look, or questioning it, you just press your shoulder into him, and settle down.

What if you are already dating, and somehow he isn't aware of it, Yoongi thinks, suddenly scared. Maybe he is so dumb that it somehow fell through the cracks. He doesn't know how to explain this otherwise. Your eyes are on the window, lashes moving slightly as you blink. His phone rings just when Yoongi is about to open his mouth, and you flinch, startled. His fingers squeeze your shoulder.

He sees it's the same number Jin called from, when acting out his prima moment.

"What?"

"This is Jenny, your ex-girlfriend", he says in his normal voice. Yoongi's knuckles go white around the phone.

"What?" he repeats, like a robot.

"How's it going? Do you need more time?"

"You're still down there?"

"Yes. We don't know how else to stall. Jungkook has been reprimanded twice. Get to kissing".

Seokjin finishes the call before Yoongi can say anything, and he loses all energy. This is utterly dumb. He isn't willing to move, mainly because this, here, is already good.

"Why are they still on the ground?" you ask.

"No idea. Something about Jungkook being afraid to go... or like..."

Visceral metal noise cuts him off as the car swings again. The cable begins turning again with a moan, and you sigh, almost with regret? Yoongi drinks the sound slowly.

"There we go", you murmur, your face at his shoulder. "No brushes, the rain, I guess we will just ride back down at once".

It makes him snort with laughter.

Council

"Taehyung is out".

"You didn't do it right", Taehyung hisses through his teeth.

"Taehyung is out", Namjoon presses. Agitated, enthusiastic to prove his classics might still work. Ever since the first shock of immediate rejection of flowers, he's been sore about it.

Now they have occupied a whole ass conference room. Hana is there, as well. Jimin's flirting worked on her from the first try, just like that. Heads clashed together, IQ loading. One more failure, and they will have to start an excel document.

It's becoming sport at this point. Hoseok's hands are on his shoulders again, massaging, like Yoongi is about to kick in someone's face. He is willing to quit the shenanigans at this point. No matter if you think it cringe, or stupid: maybe he should just come up and say it. Say it while your hand hovers above his nose. Or while it is in his hair. He closes his eyes painfully and rubs one with his fingers.

"Listen to me. It's the small things", Namjoon lectures, "they make someone fall in love with you. You are, in fact, very good at it. That's why we are all in love with you".

Jimin nods enthusiastically. Seokjin frowns but doesn't say anything.

"Problem with small things, they have become something regular", Yoongi weighs in. "I always bring her coffee. I carry her bag. I adjust her chair".

Hana produces a sound that resembles an "oh".

"What about The Book?" Namjoon asks, almost ignoring Yoongi completely. He stops in his tracks.

"The Book?"

"The Book?" Hoseok echoes.

Namjoon takes a moment to appreciate everyone's attention. He puts his elbows on the desk like a professor.

"You bring her a book you've been oiling her up about. You gotta gush over it first. Really sell it to her. Then you buy it for her and", he pretends to throw an invisible book on the desk in front of Taehyung, "just casually. But!" he raises one finger. Jungkook isn't even breathing. "You have written something in the middle. Just in between seventh and eighth chapter".

"What did I write?" Yoongi asks, breathlessly.

"I am in love with you". Namjoon utters, looking Taehyung deep in the eye. Taehyung tries to lean away.

"Would be great if the book isn't a postapocalyptic dystopia", the leader adds. Then rests his case.

"This is so lame!" Hoseok yells, "You think the girl who vomited at the flowers, will be ecstatic about this?"

"Yeah, it's pretty lame", Taehyung murmurs. Even Jin, unfortunately, nods.

"Hana?"

All heads turn to your friend. Hana is sore about something. Jimin tilts his head to catch her eye.

"Hana?"

"You never adjust my chair, Jimin oppa".

Yoongi feels a painful pang inside the vein in his right temple. Yes, it is pretty lame. Namjoon does have a point though. The little things are something he is an absolute champion in. Little things are Yoongi's profession. He remembers every movie you ever spoke about; he knows the food you are always ready to eat, and the food you will never try again. He remembers things you tell him, even when you say it just to fill the silence; he is attuned to you.

He will simply have to maximize it to make it stand out.

4. Namjoon

He does maximize it. Now Hana is a witness: she starts noticing things, and it only makes her more upset with Jimin who is an unwilling actor in this stupid play. He simply wanted a distraction, a light, non-invasive summer romance, so to say, and now he is berated every day by his make up artist, because he "doesn't adjust the seat; doesn't remember the kind of coffee she likes; doesn't comment on her new nails, doesn't send her monkey memes". Hana makes it sound loud and clear, implicated in their covert op; so that you hear it when she makes the comparison.

You tug on the hem of his shirt, big, plump brush tickling his collarbone and the base of the neck; you hum with approval.

Yoongi asks you only with his eyes, through the mirror.

"It's my favourite shirt!" you nod. He beams quietly. Jimin, on your left, throws his head back with a groan.

Yoongi replaces the lost brushes that fell through the slit in the cable car, before you manage to buy them yourself. He races against the time and wins.

He peels off all the stupid labels and barcodes you hate on your products, as well.

After the opening night of a movie you'd been waiting for, he brings you merch and you walk around in the hoodie, showing it off to everybody who has eyes.

Yoongi knows you always cut your finger in the same spot when working with scissors, and produces a bandaid quicker than you even let out a yelp of pain.

Yoongi brings you a keychain that's customized to look like your pet - and tells you he just so happened to see it accidentally somewhere in the, uh, in the city (cranks his brain to recall where normal people go to buy souvenirs, and the only word that comes up in there is Hongdae).

Yoongi brings up the relatives and friends you'd mentioned weeks ago, checking on them skilfully, letting the information steep before delivering the soft blow of love bombing that is supposed to shatter you and give you a glimpse into what his mind looks like. Full of you. Instead of getting nervous, suspicious, flustered, you sigh, kind of with sadness? And just reply to him. And he wonders how deep this friendship, this forced mental intimacy goes exactly, if you do not even react to the profound proof of his focus. Hana's jaw is unhinged; ever since she was pulled into it and gotten on the know, she has been noticing your nonchalance like it's a mountain of doom.

Yoongi becomes so proficient in this friendzone-stuck protoboyfriend shit, that even the other crew members, who know better than to hit on an idol, become his school time sighing suitors again. Phone numbers on the folded napkins. Anonymous messages from unknow numbers. Sweet drinks in the dressing room, brought especially for him.

You smirk with the weird dreamy look in your eyes. The thing Yoongi wants to hold on to is the way your hands tug on his hair today. Slightly more dramatic? A little rushed? Which is almost never the case with you. In between the hug in the cable car and now, it almost feels like a microscopic progress. You sniff through your nose when you place a note in front of him on the desk.

"Someone asked me to pass it to you".

It's another phone number. The way your voice sounds is one degree off the usual course, and he wants to think it's jealousy. Yoongi folds the note carefully and unhurriedly puts it into the garbage bin without making a big deal out of it. He thinks it's a great moment to sneak in a slow explosive. You even give him the opportunity. The way your hand lies on his forehead, almost like you're taking his temperature, feels like home.

"Not even a chance?" you chuckle. Softer than a second ago.

"I sort of... am unavailable".

You turn him with the chair and crank the pedal to lift him up a little. Put the pins in his hair to get the bangs away.

"Oh my god", your voice drops to a comfortable murmur. Finally, his favourite part of the day. Half an arm's length between your faces. You take the pad and start dabbing his face, cool, smelly toner enveloping his head. It mixes with the perfume on your wrist, and he wants to simply lean forward, fall off the chair and crash into you.

"I knew there was something up with you".

"Really?"

"You've been overly zealous the last weeks. The whole box of strawberries? You remember the last time you did it?"

Yoongi blinks. Instead of the fluffy pink of love, his chest gets infused with the black of horror. Oh. Oh no. Oh hell no.

"Three years ago, you also brought me a shit ton of strawberries, that was when", you continue, relentlessly, your smile like a sunspot on his face, cutting him, down to the throat, disfiguring, "when you had a crush on that script writer girl".

He wants to protest.

He wants to say that ridiculous box of strawberries that he paid for with three nights of eviscerating pain in his shoulder (it weighed a LOT), was for you, exclusively for you, because he is in love with you, and you should take it at a face value. He is this fucking close to snapping. Before kissing you, perhaps he wants to headbutt you.

"Yoongi, are you in love again?"

You brush away a stray hair from his forehead and throw the pad into the bin.

"Uh-huh", his heart stomps on his lungs. He senses failure like an animal. You tilt your head.

"Well, I won't push, but you gotta give me the tea sooner or later", you whisper.

Hana and Jimin aside are frozen like two statues, pretending to work, where in reality they are vibrating like ringing phones.

"It's you".

You bite on your lip.

"Tsk".

A gentle slap on his ear. Yoongi's breathing is stuck somewhere at the base of his throat. He shoots a glance at Jimin.

Do you see the shit I am working with?

Jimin's face is horrified in the funniest grimace Yoongi has seen in years. He would even laugh, had the circumstances been different.

"Chin up, funny guy", you order, and Yoongi obeys. Maybe he can even have babies with you, without you noticing.

Council

"The situation seems to be drastic", Jimin is marching in front of the wall full of Namjoon's relatives' pictures like they are assets, and he is a mission facilitator. Mission: impossible.

"Can I ask a question?" Taehyung raises his hand, his voice very soft. Yoongi hides his face behind his five left fingers.

"You don't have to raise your hand".

"Is she like... dumb or something?"

He is trying to soften it by speaking extra gently though. Seokjin chokes and coughs shortly.

"I think she just doesn't like him".

Hoseok brushes it off.

"That's not possible".

Yoongi is properly depressed. Jungkook pushes a cup of tea towards him across the coffee table and spills half of it on the go. Namjoon jumps up, grunting, and starts wiping.

"Maybe I am cursed because of you guys", Yoongi mumbles, "how are you that dysfunctional?"

"Why are you so afraid of talking to her directly?" Namjoon presses, his words, and the cloth onto the coffee table. Jimin hugs himself, lonely, against the wall.

"Because he knows what she'll say", Seokjin keeps poking the wound.

"Listen, Jenny", Jimin jumps in, "just cause you don't believe in love..."

"It's still cruel, she should just say it".

"You know she'll lose her job if anything like that comes up?" the eldest sharpens the knife before plunging it into Yoongi's ear canal, "You realize that? Many people already got kicked out that way. I mean, Joon the cameraman? Didn't he "resign" after the Hana incident? And she isn't one of us".

Yoongi blinks at his palm as if trying to read the truth off of it. You're good at that buffoonery. Read his palm a couple of times, after seeing the instruction on the internet. Told him he's going to have seventy-five kids and die at the age of fifteen.

"I just", he moans, again, mouth working before the brain. Was meaning to say it internally, not out loud. But everybody shuts up - now they do. Now they shut up, but not when he really needs them to. All eyes on him.

"What, hyung?" Jungkook urges.

"It just pisses me off every little fucking thing reminds me of her, that's all", he mutters, sore, chin down.

"He is in the twilight zone", Taehyung notes.

"He's in friendzone".

"Will you shut up?"

"He needs to move on and leave the poor dumb girl alone".

"What-do-girls-like!" Hobi yells suddenly, sensing the typhoon of nonsense coming again. Diffuses the chatter with his trademark funny, pointy voice. Cocks his head to the side, then walks over, pushing Jimin in the ribs.

"Please".

"This isn't really..."

He shushes Namjoon half-heartedly.

"What do girls like I ask you!"

"Bodily autonomy", Taehyung responds, swinging his fist in the air.

"Ghibli-style nature locations", Namjoon gives up. Hobi winces.

"Prada?" Jimin asks.

"Closer".

"Uh, when the... you know, steel-grey sky and rainbow against it, right after the storm? And you take their picture with it" Jungkook points his finger at Hobi. If Yoongi takes a very good swing, he could break the table with his head. He is starting to assume the position.

"Girls like bad boys", Seokjin says, "and Yoongi isn't bad, not even close".

"Wrong, wrong, wrong", Hoseok slaps away their words like they are butterflies - and butterflies are still insects.

"Girls like big, obvious, direct, lush gestures", he concludes, looking directly at Yoongi. "Her birthday is coming up. Buy her a fucking boat and take her to Jeju. You can confess half-way there, and push her out if she says no".

"Maybe not a boat, but..." Yoongi shifts on the couch, tucking his feet under. Jungkook is listening to him with his mouth open.

"Uh huh?"

"She always wears those", Yoongi gestures to his neck, "bead necklaces".

"Oh, I like them", Hobi responds.

"But I saw a version of that made by Bvlgari", Yoongi continues. There's energy in his voice although his brain is almost shut off. "I could, like, customize it or some shit. Put my damn initial on the underside".

Taehyung's face becomes long with an 'oooh'.

"Hyung, you are professionally romantic".

He falls back on the couch. It just fell out of his head; he has a million better ideas, but feels too tired to spell them out.

5. Hoseok

He wants to be angry with you. Can't help being angry with himself, instead. Skinny love. He is so scared of rejection it makes his butt numb. And at this point he is 79% sure rejection will be issued if he tries anything.

So instead he tilts his head back, as usual, taking what he can. The stroke of your hand. He holds up his phone as you both watch a Japanese baseball player explaining the beneficial power of bananas.

"Does it still hurt?" your finger brushes over his crooked scar on the ear, and he shakes his head.

"No. It wasn't a big cut to begin with".

"Your hair is growing out. I think it's time for Gang Signs Throwing Yoongi again", and you smile. Yoongi's eyes slide onto the clock on the wall. He prays you won't have scissors in your hands in the next four minutes, because the lights will go out.

You have a pencil instead, but do not poke him in the eye.

When the lamps die, you still have it on your tongue, licking the tip, giving away your old school roots. The last thing he sees is the line of your jaw.

You sigh in the darkness.

"Where are you?"

"Wow, it's pitch black", Yoongi hoots quietly. His hand searches for yours, and you clutch his palm.

"Where's the phone?" you chuckle.

"There will be light in a minute, don't worry about it".

You tug on his fingers.

"What... ah".

"You forgot it's your own birthday?"

Seven minutes in heaven. Yoongi stands up slowly from the chair, trying not to bump into you. It's a windowless room, full of mirrors that are useless now. He fantasizes about staying in this dark for longer, his hands feel around for your shoulders and find your waist instead.

"Turn around slowl... slowly... that's my foot".

You laugh, very close. He guides you further. You don't shiver. The universe isn't merciful to him, it doesn't like him. The door isn't locked, just like it is not supposed to be. And so it opens, too soon, before Yoongi grounds the feeling of your body under his palms, and the light returns in jumping orange splashes.

The makeup crew, together with Jimin and curious Hoseok, enter the dressing room, chanting. Yoongi manages a smile and takes a step back. He would like to :) take the cake out of Hana's hands :) and smash it into someone's face :) to be honest :) he is horny as hell :)

The cake drifts through the darkness, and Yoongi is ready to pay a lot of money to know what you wish for before blowing it out. You take things like these seriously, one of the reasons he loves you. The little silly things about life. Looking out the window while you are riding a cable car. Putting effort into the mock reading of his palm. Believing in wishes. Yoongi can't do that anymore, and he wants to know the secret. How to stay dreaming. His smile is growing more and more sincere as he watches, and finally, he is almost at peace by the time the big lights come back up again.

He still tries to move away his hips when you hug him after he gives you the present box.

Your eyes grow huge when you take off the wrapping paper, and Yoongi suddenly gets very curious about the cake, putting all his attention onto it. People say, it's nice seeing the expression of their face when someone opens up a gift. It isn't. It's awkward. He bites his lower lip. Hobi's breathing into his ear like a maniac behind his shoulder. His finger pokes into the cake and steals some icing, and Yoongi slaps him lightly.

"Oh shii-i-it", you say. Is it too much? It should be. The gem stones are heart-shaped for god's sake. The middle one, a pink sapphire, has a tiny Y engraved on the back of it, where the letter will kiss your skin once you put it on. Girls gasp. Jimin will get a beating, but at least he had been informed beforehand. You look a little alarmed, finally. Yoongi nods almost business-like as you hug him again, longer this time, and allows himself to wrap his hands around you properly.

"Yoongi... thank you?" you say.

"Happy birthday?"

"Yeah?"

Jimin and Hoseok exchange glances.

"Um..." you whisper into his neck, "isn't it a little expensive?"

People around disperse gradually, drawn by the cake that becomes smaller and smaller, fractured.

"I am rich", he whispers back, and you shake with a chuckle.

"Okay, I will switch to the good foundation..."

"And stop licking applicators?"

"No".

He laughs. He is still torn apart like his body is munched by a plane engine, but he is laughing.

Council

Jungkook is the dark horse. Always been, always will be. Yoongi feels his eyes go black as he watches maknae with silent expectation. The studio is almost empty, save for them three: the most hardworking one, the least hardworking one, and the one who likes seeing himself dance too much. Even Hobi is out for the weekend.

"You've been keeping it in for a long time", Yoongi says. Jungkook flashes him a white-toothed grin. He switches from an innocent bambi to a mafia boss au in a second.

"Dropped something at the very beginning and shut up".

Taehyung unscrews a bottle of water and pours it into his mouth.

"I was expecting you, hyung", Kookie utters, clasping his hands together.

Yoongi smirks darkly. He has no hope and no anger in him. He is dangerously close to serenity, in fact. If Jungkook's idea is to kidnap you and cuff you to a pipe in a basement, he will consider it.

"Do you want to hear it though?"

"Sure", Yoongi shrugs and wraps the towel around his neck, rubbing the sweat off. Then throws it on the floor and sits on top.

"What the hell. Go on".

"I shall demonstrate on Taehyung".

"Why me again?" Taehyung shrills. Maknae pulls his bestie closer, assuming a weirdly sexual position, popping his hip.

"You know, I drown in pussy", he begins. Yoongi closes his eyes solemnly.

"Strong lead-in".

"Ask me how".

Aftertrain Jungkook, with his bangs up, breathing through his mouth, young, blushing, is the sexiest thing one can see in the wild. Taehyung next to him, blonde, twitching, scared for his life, beating in his hands, unsure what's going to happen to him - the most poetic. Yoongi puts the hair behind his ears obediently.

"How?"

"The power", Jungkook puffs, "of proper - physical - touch".

The second time this assault happening among them, this time Taehyung being the victim. Jungkook takes his hand, fingers squeezing the palm not too tightly, gently enough. Like his thumb is sending the signals of pleasure straight into Jungkook's brain.

"Wow, your fingers... kinda tasty", he mutters, looking Taehyung in the eye. V clenches his jaws together.

"That's it?" Yoongi asks. "Your fingers tasty?"

"Wait, no-" maknae panics, "you can also go for the ear".

"Jimin did the ear already".

"And the inside of the kneecap. You're seated, right? It's easy to reach there when you sit. She walks around you, and you pretend to have forgotten something. Hey, Y/N, whoosh".

Jungkook bows and aims for Taehyung's knee, only to get pushed away by the face.

"Well, you get the idea, right? Arm, from elbow to her wrist. Also, you know what", Jungkook is working his brains real time, "she applies tint with her fingers? Kiss them?"

"You got a thing for fingers?" Taehyung looks at him from under the brow.

"Why don't I just-" Yoongi is having fun in the most morbid way, "say something like, sit on my face. Sit on my face? It's relevant enough, right? Cause it's my face she's working with".

Jungkook stoops a little.

"I tried it once, it didn't work".

"You didn't try it with a make up artist though", Taehyung helps, "it was a coffeeshop barista. It just didn't make any sense".

They start bickering. Two children, consumed by each other, the two attached at the hip, so attuned that they don't really need anybody else in the room to be entertained. After a little banter, Jungkook turns back to Yoongi:

"Feels like it's your last chance".

"I am also friends with a little band called Seventeen", he croaks, lifting himself off the floor. Taehyung snickers. Jungkook gives him two thumbs up as if he's done something here:

"Best of luck".

"Fighting!" Taehyung is happy again.

6. Jungkook

It comes up unexpectedly. You come up unexpectedly. The whole second floor of the rental is empty, hence Yoongi is there. While the others are releasing the pent up energy from the day outside, dragging staff into a game of football, he is having his quiet moment. Old man pains. Whatever they call it.

You're caught up in his glance like a mouse-thief, holding something to your chest, your mouth agape.

"I thought there was no one here".

Yoongi shakes his head. He can see the necklace. The 100 000$ necklace with heart-shaped gem stones hanging on your neck, contrasting with a 15$ grey Uniqlo shirt. You look atrociously stunning in it. Yoongi squints his eyes and sees six bottles of red bull in your hands.

"You..."

"I am making red bull ice".

He ponders for a second.

"Why?"

"Because I love red bull", you nod like it explains the ice part and march past him to the kitchen where a small freezer guards ice cream.

"You shouldn't..." he reaches out through the air, "put them in there in cans. They might explode. Better pour them in ice trays".

He has to get up and waddle after you because you don't seem to hear. He toddles into the smaller kitchen to help and opens all the cupboards as the search for ice trays begins.

Physical touch.

There's plenty of physical touch between you, so it's the same fucking issue as usual. How does one make it obvious. Yoongi is far from an unhinged fratboy, but what he wants to do now is exactly something like that. Every time they give him a strategy, he warps it to his own vision until it's unrecognizable. After all, he is a grabber, and it's his territory. Instead of taking your hand and admiring the edibility of the fingers, he pokes you in the rib.

"Ouch", you take it way calmer than he expects, and it tells him everything he needs to know.

"Your pancreas won't like this amount of red bull. Ice", he says.

"Says the functioning alcoholic?"

He sucks the air through his teeth, disarmed disgracefully. Since he has nothing to say, and his hands are itchy, he stares into your back and how your shoulder blade flexes as you open up the cans, and pokes you again.

"Yoongi, quit it".

The others were right. He is in the twilight zone. This monstrous crush is borderlining obsession, and he doesn't recognize himself anymore. He pokes again just to hear your voice. You turn around, a lock of hair on your eyes, and you put it away quickly.

"What's gotten into you?"

Your eyes search up his face as he pulls his cheeks apart in a non-smile. For some reason his eyes follow your index finger scratching your nose.

"Bored".

"Don't be bored", you jerk the ice tray on the table, "in three to five hours we will have red bull ice".

He likes the way you include him into this heartburn-inducing adventure. He likes the way you say "we".

"What shall we do meanwhile?"

Here, on the second floor of the three-storey house, it's easier to pretend you two have this whole place to yourselves. It's times bigger than the amount of people: them seven and the staff. There's even a good chance no one will come up here when the football is over.

"A... movie?" for a girl hating on the traditional 'cringe' things you suggest a very traditional pastime, and he is down.

He plops himself on the couch looking at the gems reflecting the blinding light in flashes. Yoongi even moves his shoulders trying to restrain himself from asking how you like it. If you found him in the necklace. He is trying to play it cool, encapsulating all the members' strategies in himself, all at once. Unreachable, nonchalant, spontaneous with exactly one tiny cube of Fruittella he shoots at you. You look up from your side of the couch.

"Strawberry".

When you are very happy about something, you say 'whoo' under your breath.

Your eyes slide onto his neck.

"You cut yourself again?"

Yoongi used to get irritated about how you treated everything above his shoulders as your own property. Now he simply loves it. As you launch across, your hands on his chin, tilting it to the side. The perfume from your wrist reaches his nostrils, and he loses his cool.

"Yoongi, you're not using moisturizer before shaving", it's a statement. His hand already snakes in between you, ready to attack. Tom Cruise appears on the screen and yanks your attention, just for a moment. You are like a squirrel, here and there, head snapping.

"I do use it", he lies.

"Don't lie to me".

"My hands shake because I am an alcoholic, and I cut myself".

You click your tongue and want to say something, but he pokes you again. Your pretty mouth catches air. Tom is battling with Min Yoongi for just a glimpse of you, and you are slowly pulled into the world of cinematography. You know he is bullshitting, but you are just too used to it.

"You're on your last warning", you mutter, sitting way closer to him than before. Yoongi realizes you put on... the Mummy? Out of all Tom Cruise movies you could have chosen, you put on the Mummy.

"And then what?" he pushes, his eyes on the TV as well.

"Then I kick you".

"You can't kick me, I'm an idol".

Your hand brushes him off. He has lost to the last great movie star, even if you're wearing his necklace.

"Who is more famous, me or Tom Cruise?"

"Tom Cruise", you say automatically, and Yoongi sinks deeper into the couch.

"He could be your father".

You gasp, dreamy.

"Imagine that. He'd be a lousy father, but still".

"I mean I'm..."

Your hand suddenly gets into his hair. And it's not the usual soft, professional touch that Yoongi is used to. It's a grab. You yank him like he's an insolent boy, and he tips over even before he realizes what you are doing. A second; and his head is on your lap, Yoongi himself still producing a moan of pain. He has to readjust, swinging his hips, bending legs to fit, as he lies down. Your hand presses on the side of his head and Yoongi has no idea what the fuck is going on.

"Shh".

Yoongi is turning, trying to fit his elbow under himself and not move his head lest you remove your hand.

"When Tom Cruise is on screen, we are what?" the fingers drum on the side of his skull.

"Uh..."

"Silent as a grave".

"It's not even a good one, can we watch T-"

You cover his mouth with your little palm, and he shuts up. If it weren't for Tom Cruise, sorry, 🌸🌷🌺Tom Cruise🌼🌻💐, now would be a great time to ask,

what are we??

Council

Namjoon is under the desk. His hand feeling around on the linoleum, his own body covering the light. He is in the shade of his own clumsiness, scrambling for pieces of his own life: all his credit and name cards are on the floor.

The door sounds like someone is trying to take it off hinges. Jammed last month again, so now the handle is half-broken. Namjoon twists his body to see, and recognizes your feet.

"Butt of Namjoon?"

"Hey".

Even though there's a joke in between your teeth, as always, you don't sound joyful.

Also it's weird that you came to speak to him at all. Your tone shows intention. Namjoon crawls backwards and sits himself on the floor comfortably, looking up.

You are sad. The necklace Yoongi gave you, a small, intricate and stylish piece of quiet luxury on your neck, almost completely hidden by the collar of your hoodie.

"I need to speak to you first".

He doesn't have any idea what it is, but his mind starts going places.

"Why?"

"Because you're the leader".

Namjoon grinds his jaws against each other, one hand covering his ear. You are a remarkable girl. You never shiver or anything like that, and never did. Guess this job makes you tough very quickly. Even now, displaying classical signs of distress - lowered head, inexpressive eyes - you do not fidget. It indicates deeper sadness, he thinks.

"I am going to quit", you say, simply. It doesn't have any intonation, any colour. Namjoon supports himself against the desk.

"Why?"

You look at him.

"Personal reasons", you pause. Your finger tortures the lower lip, "personal feelings".

He is quiet, stranding you alone in this. Namjoon blinks. He was moderately invested and now he is dying to hear this shit.

"I kind of... caught a crush on Yoongi", you sigh heavily, like you've been unloading something.

"Y/N-"

"Like a year ago".

Namjoon shuts up.

"Or maybe earlier. I don't know", your hands drop on the desk. "I've been doing alright, but I guess it's piling up, you know? Lately it's been difficult, I am getting sad. And I need to get away before I screw things up".

Namjoon puts a double security on his mouth: bites his lip and covers it with his hand. He wants to say something very funny but knows this, this thing unravelling in front of him, is incredibly human. Yeah, funny as hell. But human.

"I'll stop you right there", Namjoon puts out his hand and, after careful consideration, it crawls across the desk and covers your palm.

"You're a great make up artist".

"That's not the point..."

"And I am not the one you should be talking about it".

You finally close up:

"No, no, I don't wanna tell Yoongi anything. It's going to be so humiliating".

"You've known each other for three years..."

"I couldn't bear looking at him if..."

"...even if feelings weren't involved, he must know..."

"...and he will say not to go..."

"...oh my god!" Namjoon snaps. The disciplined, civilized, mannered Namjoon shrieks at you. "They are heart shaped!"

Your mouth freezes open.

"What?"

"The gems!" he is pointing at your necklace, desperate, completely miserable, disbelieving. He can't control his voice anymore. "Each little fucking gem is heart shaped, Y/N! And there's a Y on the inside!"

Your bewilderment is adorable. Namjoon sincerely gets it. Your hand flies up to your neck. Your tormented expression slowly relaxes as your eyes run over his face. He feels bad about screaming but it's a matter for shouting. Namjoon raises his hand.

"Sorry. I might have overreacted".

Your mouth is agape, and he wants to reach out again and tap it shut with his finger.

"But you get the idea, yeah?"

You nod several times in small motions.

"Have I... convinced you to stay for now?"

You nod again.

"Mm, mm-hm".

You sit in silence for a while, turned away from each other, room suddenly smothering stuffy. Then you push your chin down.

"I didn't see any letters", you mutter.

"It's very small", Namjoon responds tiredly. Your fingers feel along the necklace, and he softens up again.

"It's pretty, isn't it?"

"I never take it off", you confirm, "I even sleep in it".

He kind of melts.

7. Yoongi

He bites on the chocolate bar from your hand and moves his jaws. Eyes concentrated in the mirror. You are efficient: the bar disappears and the brush appears immediately. It's like you have ten hands. Then one of them lies on the side of his head - you can see he is nervous - and he leans in out of habit. Fingers rub on his scalp shortly, then the bar hovers around his mouth again. Yoongi bites.

Something tickles his nostrils.

The scent of is peace in the ocean of chaos of the dressing room has changed. It's sweeter. Like honey and apples. He frowns slightly and catches your smile in the reflection. Hums with question. You nod.

"What's that?"

"New".

To his right, Taehyung quietly gasps with pain. The new girl burned him with the curler. She starts apologizing profusely and Taehyung shakes his head, although still wincing. Yoongi returns to his haven of calm.

"When you go with your grin", you say, "turn like this", your hand moves his chin a little so that he sees the sharp, pearly line of highlighter on the edge of his jaw.

"Okay", he grins, "uh, what shade is it? Jimin's hair would go well with it, too".

You lift the small bottle to his eyes, and he reads: '78 deeply loved'.

"Only for you".

You boop it on his nose, and he is dumbfounded, transcended, dead. He sees himself looking like a hopeful pup, staring into your eyes. You look shy as you lick eye pencil. You blush for the first time.

[ola-the-clown]

Thank you so so much @sanza-17 for the tag, ik it's been like a month, but time isn't real when one is busy and i rly wanted to draw a nice proper ref for Miiriath 💔

tagging uhh @vinyatar and @bluotbanner in case they wanna talk abt the designs for their idiot assassins (affectionate)🌸

a more in depth description under [read more]

Miiriath is of a dark-grey complexion, with a bit of a purplish tint, while her hair (very long and with a bit of a curl to them) is a deep, cool green, akin to the sea during storm. Standing at mere 152 cm, she is of a petite built, with small chest and shapely hips. Her body is kissed with small beauty marks, thought the most distinct one remain on her face, two under her left eye and one on the right of her bottom lip. Her piercing eyes are in a lovely shade of a well-aged wine, with long eyelashes and a hint of light makeup; she loves to paint her lips as well, her favourite crimson lipstick being so dark it looks near black. Red is also coating her nails — filed down into a sharp claws-like shape.

She has many outfits, as any fashionable mage would, nearly all of which are neither the most practical nor armoured, because overusing magic for everything in her life includes the protection spells. Most have some sort of insect-theme going on, be it in the details (tiny spiders) or their shape and cut (resembling wings in one way or another), and are (annoyingly) layered.

The one above I've chosen as her sort-of default.

Despite being a Telvanni (and proud) she oft chooses to wear red because (according to her personal tastes) it is simply superior to the typical brown. Please ignore any associations with a certain other (worse) House; if she could have it her way, she'd have switched it around 💋 Miiriath is also fond of purple, and if (if) she finds herself caring for someone (a very rare occasion indeed), they are likely to be gifted a plum or lavender coloured garment.

Her preferred metal is gold, though she doesn't scoff at silver. As expected, amethysts and rubies rule her jewelry box, with an occasional moissanite here and there. Rings, earrings, necklaces, bracelets, collars — she has it all, and loooves to accessorize. Gold is also present on her clothing, be it in a form of leafing, gilding or threads. She has more than enough of it to wear it, and she's certainly not shy about that fact.

Her up-dos change depending on the occasion, but she only ever lets her hair fully down in private or the intimate company of a few lucky individuals. Otherwise, she has it done into an elaborate hairdo or, for lab-work, an intricate braid. Hair-adornments vary from small ornaments to heavy headpieces, the latter of which is usually spelled to feel light.

The dark tattoo that extends from her arm all the way up to her face and the side of her torso, is meant to represent the flow of magicka, and is in on itself magical; shimmering under a certain light and moving in accordance to her moods and usage of magic, swirling, shifting and curling. Most of the time it's barely noticeable, easy to dismiss as a trick of the light, but once the movement becomes apparent-- Run💀

[baelabong]

ᴄʟᴜᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ

ʀɪᴄʜɢɪʀʟ! ʏ/ɴ x ᴏʟᴅᴇʀꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀꜱʙꜱꜰʀ!ᴋᴀʀɪɴᴀ

Plot: Y/N lives a life of luxury, lounging by the pool in her mansion, completely at ease. But when her sister’s best friend, Karina, shows up, everything changes. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act like the perfect spoiled princess, she finds herself struggling with feelings she doesn’t want to admit.

Warnings: no, fluff, lowkey angst, y/ns a bitch lowkey

wc/rq: 7.5 k words/no, i was just watching clueless again Notes: guys pls teach me ho tochange the colour of the text in tumblr also this took me FIVE DAYS OMG

it’s another perfect day as you lounge around your mansion, well…. your dads but whatever, and you’re in your element. lounging by the pool is practically a full-time job for you, and honestly? no one does it better. your designer sunglasses sit perched on your nose, your iced drink sits on the little table next to you, condensation sliding down the glass, while your phone is buzzing nonstop with notifications. friends asking about plans, people wanting your attention—it’s exhausting, really. but you couldn’t care less at the moment. the world is yours, and you’re revelling in it.

you stretch out on your lounger, flipping through your phone without much interest, skimming texts, and rolling your eyes at half of them. you don’t feel like replying. it’s one of those lazy afternoons where you can just exist in your little bubble, and everything is going your way.

until you hear her voice.

karina.

the sound of her laughing from inside the house catches you completely off guard, and suddenly your perfect little world feels a bit too small. her voice cuts through the air, light and casual, like she owns the place—and you already know she’s probably leaning against the kitchen counter, looking effortlessly cool, as she does. 

god, she’s so irritating.

you sit up a bit, tugging your sunglasses down your nose, the slightest frown creasing your brow. you try to ignore the flutter in your chest, that annoying little skip your heart does whenever you know she’s nearby. it’s stupid, really. she’s your sister’s best friend. she’s here for her, not for you. but for some reason, your body never seems to get that memo. 

you roll your eyes at yourself, huffing as you grab your phone again, pretending to be engrossed in something important. but it’s useless. you scroll without really looking, your mind racing ahead of itself. the thought of karina, her presence this close, makes your skin tingle in the most frustrating way. it’s like she invades your space, even when she’s not physically next to you.

snap out of it, y/n, you think, shaking your head. but the moment’s already ruined, and lounging by the pool doesn’t feel as serene as it did five minutes ago. 

you sigh dramatically, slipping your sunglasses back up and fixing your hair, running your fingers through it like you’re preparing for battle. because, honestly, that’s what it feels like whenever karina’s around—a constant need to look your best, act your best, even though she’s never actually paying attention to you. at least, not in the way you wish she would.

so you push yourself up, deciding it’s better to face whatever weird feelings are bubbling up rather than sitting here, stewing in your own frustration. you stand and slip on your sandals, adjusting your swimsuit just so—because even if you’re annoyed, you’re still going to look flawless. that’s just who you are.

as you stroll into the house, your head held high, your heart’s racing, but you force yourself to look as unbothered as possible. you walk with purpose, sunglasses still on, acting like nothing could possibly faze you.

and then you see her.

karina’s leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, her black cropped top showing just enough of her toned waist to make your throat go dry. her jeans hug her in all the right places, and her dark hair falls effortlessly over her shoulders, making her look like she just stepped out of a photoshoot without even trying. of course she looks that good. she always does.

and what’s worse? she’s laughing at something your sister just said, completely relaxed, as if the world hasn’t just tilted on its axis now that you’ve entered the room. ugh.

you can feel your stomach flip, but you swallow it down, refusing to let it show. you are y/n, after all. you’re always in control.

"y/n, finally. we’re going shopping," your sister, ningning announces, not even bothering to look up from her phone. she says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world, as if she hasn’t dragged you along on three separate shopping trips already this week.

you roll your eyes dramatically, making sure everyone in the room feels it. shopping? again? it’s like your sister has no sense of boundaries, always assuming you’ll drop everything to go out with her. you love her, obviously, but sometimes she just doesn’t get it. 

"ugh, shopping? again?" you groan, exaggerating every syllable. you throw yourself into your usual bratty mode because it’s easy, it’s safe. and more than that—it’s your way of keeping karina at arm’s length. you know if you act like a spoiled little princess, you can keep the attention off how much she messes with your head.

karina glances at you, and you can feel her eyes on you before you even meet them. when you finally do, she’s got that smile on her lips—that tiny, knowing smile that drives you insane. like she can see right through you. like she knows exactly why you’re acting this way. 

god, she’s so frustrating.

"you’re coming whether you like it or not," your sister chirps, still absorbed in whatever text she’s typing, oblivious to the tension bubbling under the surface.

you huff, flipping your hair over your shoulder with a sharp toss. "fine. but we better not spend all day in some tacky boutique."

you strut past karina, making sure to give her the cold shoulder as you do, acting like her presence doesn’t bother you in the slightest. like the fact that you’ll be stuck with her for the next few hours isn’t making your brain short-circuit. you feel her eyes linger on you as you walk away, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to turn around and meet them again. 

you know what she’s thinking—that you’re being a brat, like usual. that you’re throwing a tantrum because things aren’t going your way. and maybe she’s right.

the drive to the shops feels like it drags on forever, but you manage to keep your cool. you’re in the backseat, legs crossed, uour white crop top hugs you perfectly, and your leather skirt shows just enough skin to catch attention without begging for it. it's the kind of look that makes you feel in control, like the world bends to you.

your phone buzzes again, and you glance at it with a small smile. some boy you barely care about has been texting you for days, throwing compliments like they’re going out of style. he’s sweet, but he’s not who’s really on your mind. you’re only half paying attention to the conversation, lazily scrolling through his messages, while your eyes flick towards the front of the car.

karina’s sitting there, chatting with your sister, her voice low and calm, like she has all the time in the world. she laughs at something your sister says, and it’s the kind of laugh that makes your heart skip for a moment—annoyingly effortless, just like the rest of her. her dark hair is pulled back, showing off that ridiculously sharp jawline, and she’s dressed in this casual, almost too-perfect outfit that only adds to her coolness. you hate how much it affects you, but you’d never show it.

instead, you lean back, subtly watching her from behind your sunglasses, acting like you’re completely disinterested. every now and then, you catch her looking at you through the rear-view mirror, her gaze flickering over you just long enough for you to notice. she’s not obvious about it, but you know. she’s watching you, and it sends a little thrill through your veins, though you’d never admit that either.

as the car slows to a stop at the shopping centre, you apply a quick swipe of lip gloss, making sure your lips are shiny and perfect. you don’t even look at karina when you do it, but you know she’s paying attention. her gaze lingers again, longer this time, before she quickly looks away, focusing back on whatever your sister is babbling about.

you step out of the car with a smooth, practised ease, swinging your small designer bag over your shoulder as your sister immediately grabs your arm and pulls you into the first boutique she sees. you roll your eyes, but follow her, because it’s easier than making a fuss.

inside the shop, your sister flits around like a kid in a candy store, grabbing clothes left and right, already talking a mile a minute about some guy she’s obsessed with. you’re only half listening, the same way you do with the boy who’s been texting you. instead, your attention keeps drifting back to karina, who’s moving between racks with her usual calm and collected grace.

you can’t help but watch her, even when you pretend you’re not. everything about her is so annoyingly perfect. you find yourself bristling at it, at how unbothered she looks, while you’re stuck in your head, trying not to let her get to you.

as if on autopilot, you grab a bright pink dress from a nearby rack and hold it up, not even thinking about it. it’s not your style at all—too loud, too flashy, too... obvious. but you’re not really shopping for yourself at this moment. you’re trying to pull karina’s focus, to force her to engage with you, to get her to stop being so damn aloof.

"what do you think of this?" you ask, holding the dress up in front of her, your tone casual, like you couldn’t care less what she says. but your heart is already beating a little faster, and you hate that she has this effect on you. 

karina looks up, her eyes flicking to the dress, then to you. she takes a moment, her lips curling into a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk. "it’s cute," she says with that maddening calmness. "but... i think you’d look better in something less... obvious."

you blink, momentarily thrown off. "less obvious?" you scoff, tossing the dress back on the rack with a little more force than necessary. "i think i know what works for me."

"i’m sure you do," karina replies, moving to the next rack like your little outburst didn’t even faze her. she’s so damn unbothered, and it’s infuriating. 

you huff, crossing your arms, watching as she walks ahead. she’s already browsing something else, her attention completely shifted away from you, leaving you stewing in your own frustration. who does she think she is, telling you what looks good on you? it’s not like she’s some kind of fashion expert. she’s just... karina. your sister’s best friend. and yet, here you are, letting her opinion mess with your head. 

deep down, you know you’re overreacting. it’s not really about the dress. it’s about how karina makes you feel, like she’s always two steps ahead, always so calm and cool, while you’re over here, constantly putting on a show. and the worst part? you care what she thinks. way too much. 

you glance at her again, catching the way she moves, so confident, so sure of herself. and for just a moment, you wish you could be that unbothered. but then, you shake the thought away, smoothing down your outfit as if it’ll somehow fix the mess in your head.

"ugh, whatever," you mutter under your breath, striding past her like you’re completely over it. but even as you move to the next rack, you can feel her eyes on you, and it makes your heart race all over again.

you move to the next rack, pretending to focus on a row of dresses that all blur together in your head. your sister is off somewhere, chattering away to some salesgirl, and you’re left alone in this silent tension with karina. you know she’s watching you, even if she’s not making it obvious. but you refuse to give her the satisfaction of looking back. not yet.

after a few more minutes of awkward browsing, your sister finally appears, holding up two completely over-the-top outfits. “which one do you think i should get? i have a party this weekend, and i need to look amazing,” she says, thrusting the clothes at you and karina for judgement.

you raise an eyebrow, barely glancing at the dresses. “does it really matter? you’ll look fine in anything,” you say, a little dismissively, still annoyed at the whole situation. 

karina, on the other hand, takes the time to actually consider the options, glancing from one dress to the other with her signature calm. “i like the red one. it’s bold,” she says, giving your sister a genuine smile.

and just like that, your sister beams at karina, completely smitten with her opinion. “ugh, i knew you’d get it!” she squeals, already grabbing the red dress and skipping off to try it on, leaving the two of you alone again.

you roll your eyes at the whole interaction, crossing your arms as you turn back to the rack. “she acts like she’s going to prom or something. it’s just a party,” you mutter, but there’s no real bite in your voice. you’re more distracted by how casual karina is, how her attention shifts so easily from one thing to the next, while you’re stuck here, hyper aware of every little thing she does.

and then, out of nowhere, she’s beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of her presence. “you didn’t answer me earlier,” she says softly, her voice low enough that it makes your skin tingle. 

you glance up at her, confused. “about what?”

“about why you’re really upset. it’s not the shopping, is it?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, studying your face with those dark eyes that seem to see through you.

your stomach flips, and for a second, you can’t think of anything to say. because she’s right. it’s not the shopping. it’s not even the dress. it’s... her. the way she gets under your skin, the way she knows how to push your buttons without even trying.

you bristle, putting up your usual front. “i’m not upset,” you say, but your voice wavers slightly. “and i’m definitely not interested in whatever psychoanalysis you’re trying to pull.”

karina’s lips curl into that infuriating smirk again, like she knows you better than you know yourself. “sure, y/n. whatever you say.”

and with that, she steps away, her attention shifting back to the clothes, leaving you standing there, heart racing, your mind spinning. you hate how easily she can mess with you. how, with just a few words, she can throw your whole mood off balance.

you let out a frustrated sigh, grabbing a random dress from the rack and heading toward the fitting rooms. you need a minute to collect yourself, to get away from karina’s stupidly perfect calmness, and figure out why she’s making you feel so rattled.

but as you walk away, you can feel her eyes on you again. watching, waiting. and it only makes your pulse quicken even more.

as you step out of the fitting room, tugging at the hem of the shirt you just tried on, your sister's voice cuts through the air. “you should just tell her how you feel, y/n!”

your eyes widen, and you freeze on the spot, glaring at your sister as if that would make her shut up. she says it so casually, like it’s no big deal, but your heart is practically pounding out of your chest. what the hell is she thinking, dropping that in front of karina?

you sneak a glance at karina, who’s standing a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest. she’s leaning against the wall, her black leather jacket making her look effortlessly cool as usual. her expression doesn’t give much away, but there’s a small quirk of her eyebrow that tells you she’s definitely heard what your sister just said.

“what the hell are you talking about?” you snap, rolling your eyes and giving your sister a hard shove. “you sound ridiculous.”

your sister just shrugs, clearly not picking up on the tension between you and karina. “i’m just saying! it’s obvious.”

you scoff, crossing your arms and glancing at karina again, trying to read her. her jaw is clenched, and she’s staring right at you, not saying a word, but that stupid smirk she always has is creeping up.

“let’s just go. i’m hungry,” you mutter, eager to change the subject. you brush past your sister and head toward the exit, not even waiting for karina to follow. but of course, she does, her boots thudding against the floor behind you.

outside the store, you try to ignore how close she’s walking next to you, her presence making you feel both irritated and flustered at the same time. why does she have to be so... calm? like she knows something you don’t.

“you’re acting real bratty today,” karina finally says, her deep voice low, like she’s amused by your attitude.

you stop in your tracks and glare at her. “i’m not acting bratty. i’m just not in the mood for this,” you snap back, refusing to let her get under your skin any more than she already has.

karina’s smirk grows wider, and she steps closer, towering over you just enough to make your breath catch. she reaches out and flicks your forehead lightly, like she’s teasing you. “sure, whatever you say, princess.”

your cheeks flush with both embarrassment and frustration. “don’t call me that,” you mutter, though your voice lacks the bite you want it to have.

karina just chuckles, sliding her hands into her jacket pockets as she keeps walking, clearly unfazed by your attitude. you bite your lip, feeling even more annoyed that she’s so good at getting a reaction out of you.

by the time you all pile into the car to head home, the tension between you and karina is palpable. you slide into the backseat, crossing your arms and staring out the window, pretending like you’re not bothered by her.

but every now and then, you catch her eyes flicking to you through the rearview mirror. she doesn’t say anything, but you can feel her watching you, and it drives you insane.

later that day, while you're lounging on your bed, phone in hand, you scroll through your social media feed without much thought, until a particular post makes you stop. it's from the new girl at school—a blonde who's been turning heads since she arrived. what catches your eye, though, is the company she’s keeping. in a series of photos, she’s with karina. they're both laughing, standing way too close, and sharing what looks like an inside joke. karina’s usual cool demeanour is softened, and it rubs you the wrong way. 

your stomach churns as you swipe through more pictures. the blonde has tagged karina in a couple of them. in one, their shoulders are pressed together, and in another, karina’s hand is casually resting on the back of her chair, almost possessively. the knot in your chest tightens, and you toss your phone aside, sitting up as if that will shake the irritation building inside you.

why does she look so comfortable around her? you wonder, pacing your room as your thoughts spiral. you try to brush it off—karina’s popular, after all, people gravitate towards her. but this feels different. the thought of this girl spending more time with her than you makes your chest ache in a way that catches you off guard. you hate that it's bothering you this much. i don’t even care that much... right? but deep down, you know that’s a lie.

the next day at school, the nagging jealousy follows you around like a shadow. during lunch, you find yourself sitting across from karina, your eyes scanning her face as she casually eats, scrolling through her phone like nothing's on her mind. but it’s all you can think about.

you take a deep breath, trying to sound casual as you speak up. “so… who’s that new girl? the blonde.” you fiddle with the fork in your hand, poking at your food without really eating.

karina glances up from her phone, raising an eyebrow. “new girl?” she echoes, almost like she’s oblivious. she’s toying with you. you know she remembers.

you clear your throat, trying to sound nonchalant as you add, “you two seemed pretty chummy on her post.”

karina’s lips curl into a small, amused smirk. “oh, her? she’s in my biology class. we worked on a project together. no big deal.”

“no big deal?” you echo, feigning indifference, but you can’t stop the edge from creeping into your voice. “she seems pretty into you.”

karina’s smirk only grows. “what? are you jealous?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest. “me? jealous? please. i just thought it was interesting, that’s all.”

karina sets her phone down and leans in closer, resting her elbows on the table, her gaze never leaving yours. “you’re cute when you’re jealous, y/n.”

your cheeks flush instantly at her words, but you refuse to let her see how much she’s getting to you. “i’m not jealous,” you grumble, though even you can tell it sounds unconvincing. “i just don’t like the idea of you being so... friendly with random girls.”

karina tilts her head, her gaze softening slightly. “random girls? she’s just a friend, y/n. we worked on a project together, nothing more.” she sounds sincere, but her playful smirk never fully disappears. it’s like she’s reveling in how worked up you’re getting.

“yeah, well,” you mutter, playing with the edge of your sleeve, “she looked pretty cozy for ‘just a friend.’”

karina leans even closer, her voice dropping to a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine. “you know,” she says, eyes flicking down to your lips before meeting your gaze again, “if you want my attention, all you have to do is ask.”

your breath catches in your throat. you’re not used to karina being this direct. she’s always been confident, sure, but this—this teasing, almost predatory energy—is making your heart race in a way you weren’t prepared for.

“who said i wanted your attention?” you try to snap back, but your voice is quieter, weaker, and you can tell karina’s picking up on it.

karina leans back, her smirk widening as if she’s won some silent battle. “oh, trust me, y/n. i can tell.”

you huff, crossing your arms tighter over your chest, but you don’t argue further. the truth is, you *do* want her attention—have wanted it for a while now. but admitting that feels too much like giving her the upper hand, and you’re not about to hand that over so easily.

karina watches you for a moment, her eyes twinkling with amusement. she knows exactly how to push your buttons, and she’s enjoying every second of it. “don’t worry,” she says, voice softer but still teasing. “you don’t have to be jealous of anyone else. i’m not going anywhere.”

you bite your lip, trying to keep the blush from creeping up your neck. “i’m not jealous,” you insist, but even you can hear how weak it sounds now.

karina just chuckles, shaking her head as she goes back to her phone, but not before giving you a knowing look that makes your heart skip a beat. 

“sure, y/n,” she murmurs. “sure.”

the sound of the door dings again, the cheery chime contrasting sharply with the heavy sigh you can’t help but let escape your lips as you settle back into your chair, stirring your iced latte without any real interest. the hum of the coffee shop, alive with the chatter of customers and the clinking of dishes, fades into a dull background noise as your attention drifts elsewhere. your sister, ningning, somehow managed to drag you into this little outing with her friends—definitely not the most thrilling way to spend your weekend. sure, the place is cute enough, but after an hour of listening to them ramble on about the latest trends and drama, you feel like you might just slip into a coma.

“thanks again for dragging me here, ning,” you mutter under your breath, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “really doing wonders for my social calendar.”

ningning, ever the optimist, just rolls her eyes playfully, busy laughing with her friends as they chat animatedly about something you couldn’t care less about. you zone out, drumming your fingers against the table as the door dings again, signalling yet another group of people entering. 

your gaze drifts lazily across the table to where karina is sitting, completely engrossed in conversation with the new girl—some blonde transfer student who’s been soaking up attention like it’s her job since she showed up. karina, for her part, seems to be enjoying it far too much. she leans in a little closer, her expression relaxed, laughing at something the blonde said. 

you can’t stop the eye roll that follows. typical. 

karina’s never like this around you, but here she is, laughing like she’s never had more fun in her life. you shift in your seat, your annoyance simmering as you watch the two of them. they’re sitting just a little too close, and karina’s smile is just a little too bright. you tap your fingers impatiently on the table, waiting for the conversation to shift back to something even remotely interesting, but no one else seems to notice the elephant in the room—you.

with every joke exchanged between them, your patience wears thinner, until you just can’t hold back anymore. the sarcasm slips out before you can stop yourself. 

“wow, karina,” you say, your voice dripping with faux enthusiasm. “you and your new bestie seem to be having such a great time. should we give you two some space? maybe you’d prefer to continue this riveting conversation alone?”

the table falls silent instantly. ningning’s eyes widen, and the other girls glance at each other awkwardly, unsure of how to react. karina, though, barely blinks. she turns her head toward you, raising an eyebrow, and the corner of her lips twitch as if she’s more amused than annoyed.

“what’s your deal?” she asks, her tone as casual as ever, like your little outburst barely registered. she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as if to match your stance.

“my deal?” you echo, letting out a scoff as you lean forward, resting your chin in your hand. “oh, nothing. just admiring how fast you make friends. must be nice, really.”

karina’s eyes flicker with amusement as she glances between you and the blonde, who’s now awkwardly fiddling with her coffee cup. “oh, come on, y/n,” she says, her voice smooth, almost teasing. “are you really that bothered?”

you tilt your head, giving her a saccharine smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “bothered? no, not at all. just enjoying the show.” you gesture loosely to the two of them, adding, “it’s like a cute little rom-com, right in front of me. really, I’m thrilled for you.”

karina narrows her eyes, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips. “you’re jealous,” she states plainly, not a question—more like she’s calling you out, the way she always does. and it infuriates you.

you scoff again, louder this time, and toss your hair over your shoulder with dramatic flair. “me? jealous? of that?” you glance at the blonde, who’s now clearly uncomfortable but doing her best to pretend she’s not. “please. I just think it’s cute, that’s all. watching you two pretend you’re starring in some hallmark movie.”

karina just chuckles, leaning forward, resting her elbows on the table as she fixes you with an infuriatingly calm stare. “yeah? well, from where I’m sitting, it sounds like you’re the one starring in a soap opera. all that drama for nothing, y/n.”

you roll your eyes, pushing your chair back slightly, but you can’t help the way your heart races as karina’s gaze stays locked on yours. she’s always been able to get under your skin, and you hate it. hate how she can stay so calm and collected while you’re practically fuming.

“right. because you know me so well,” you fire back, crossing your arms again, this time more defensively.

karina shrugs, that lazy smirk still on her lips. “i do know you,” she says, her tone annoyingly confident. “better than you think.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to snap again. you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s right. the truth is, you are jealous. but admitting that would feel like handing her a win, and you’re not about to do that.

before you can come up with a witty retort, karina glances over at the blonde, who’s now pretending to check her phone. “look, y/n, we’re just talking. it’s really not that deep.”

“right,” you say, drawing out the word. “just talking. and all that laughing and flirting? just casual, right?”

karina chuckles, shaking her head slightly. “flirting? really, y/n?” she leans forward a little more, her voice dropping, making your pulse quicken. “if i wanted to flirt, you’d know it.”

you freeze, your breath catching in your throat as her words hang in the air between you. she’s toying with you, and you hate how easily she can make your heart skip a beat. 

“oh, please,” you finally manage, but your voice is a little quieter now, a little less confident. “you’re full of it.”

karina’s smirk only widens. “maybe,” she admits, leaning back in her chair, looking way too pleased with herself. “but it’s fun watching you get all worked up.”

you open your mouth to fire back, but nothing comes out. you’re too caught off guard by how effortlessly she’s turned the tables on you.

arriving back at the estate, you rush off the jeep, leaving ningning in the driver’s seat, and stomp towards your room, heart thudding in your chest. your heels click angrily against the marble floor, and the second you reach your bedroom, you throw yourself onto the bed, burying your face in the plush pillows. a muffled scream escapes your lips as you let out all the pent-up frustration.

how dare she? how could karina just... dismiss your feelings like that, in front of everyone, no less? it’s not like you even wanted her attention in the first place—at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself all this time. but seeing her with the blonde girl, laughing and leaning in like that, had struck a nerve you didn’t know was so raw.

you flip over onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as you replay the entire café scene over in your head. "if i wanted to flirt, you’d know it." you mocked the girl in a baby voice

god, why did she have to say that? why did she have to be so smug about it? it’s infuriating how easily she gets under your skin, how she knows exactly which buttons to press.

staring at the ceiling, replaying the day in your head like a bad movie. karina had been laughing, smiling, totally caught up in her conversation with the blonde—leaning in, listening like whatever that girl had to say was the most interesting thing in the world. it was infuriating. 

she never paid attention to you like that. at least, not lately.

you grab a pillow and smother your face with it, trying to block out the feelings that have been gnawing at you ever since you stormed off and practically slammed your bedroom door behind you. karina had a way of getting under your skin, but today? today, it had hit differently. you weren’t just annoyed—you were jealous. though admitting that, even to yourself, felt like swallowing glass.

your phone buzzes on your nightstand, and for a moment, you think about ignoring it. probably just ningning wondering where you went off to, or one of her friends in the group chat. but something nags at you, and before you can stop yourself, you reach for it.

karina’s name lights up your screen.

karina: open the door. i’m outside.

your heart skips a beat. you scramble out of bed, peeking through the curtains, and there she is. leaning against her car, hands shoved in her pockets, looking like she just stepped out of some cheesy rom-com.

you hesitate for a second, debating whether to leave her out there or actually let her in. your stubborn side screams to make her wait, but you know you can’t. not when she’s standing there like that, looking all casual and unbothered, the way she always does. 

with a huff, you stomp downstairs and swing open the door, crossing your arms defensively. “what are you doing here?”

karina glances up, her cool gaze locking onto yours as she pushes off the car and steps closer, hands still buried in her jacket pockets. “we need to talk.”

“talk about what? you had plenty to say earlier with your new bestie,” you snap, immediately feeling childish, but unable to stop yourself.

karina doesn’t flinch. instead, she steps up onto the porch, her tall frame making her presence even more commanding. “y/n, cut the crap. you’ve been acting weird all day. i’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

“nothing’s going on,” you lie, turning your back to her, but you don’t close the door. “i just don’t want to deal with it.”

“deal with what?” she presses, her voice dropping lower, firmer, in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “you were practically fuming back there. don’t act like everything’s fine.”

you bite your lip, annoyed that she can see through you so easily. “i said it’s nothing, karina. you’re making it a bigger deal than it is.”

“y/n, stop,” she says, her tone now leaving no room for argument. she steps inside, her boots making soft thuds on the hardwood as she closes the door behind her. “tell me what’s really going on.”

you glare at her, your defences still up, but you can’t help feeling cornered. her calm, unwavering stare makes your heart race, and you hate how easily she can unsettle you. 

“fine,” you snap, folding your arms tighter across your chest. “you wanna know? you ignored me all day for that blonde, and it pissed me off. happy now?”

karina raises an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly as she steps even closer. “that’s what this is about? you’re jealous?”

you scoff, turning away from her. “no, i’m not jealous,” you mutter, but even you don’t believe your own words. “i just... i don’t get why you were all over her. it was annoying.”

“i wasn’t all over her,” she says, her voice calm but firm as she steps around to face you again. “we were just talking.”

“right,” you mumble, still refusing to meet her eyes. “just talking. whatever.”

karina sighs, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “y/n, why won’t you just admit it? you’re upset because you like me.”

your breath catches in your throat, and you freeze. her words hang in the air between you, and for a second, you wonder if you heard her wrong.

“what?” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

karina steps closer, her hand lifting to gently tilt your chin up so you’re forced to look at her. her dark eyes are intense, and for once, there’s no teasing smirk on her lips. she looks serious—dead serious. “you heard me.”

your heart pounds in your chest as her fingers brush against your jaw, sending a wave of heat rushing through you. this is not how you expected the conversation to go. you try to come up with a retort, something sarcastic to throw back at her, but your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting.

“karina, i...” you start, but the words die on your lips.

she’s so close now, her presence almost overwhelming as she looks down at you, waiting for your response. you swallow hard, feeling the weight of her gaze pressing down on you.

“you don’t have to say anything,” karina says softly, her hand sliding down from your chin to rest on your shoulder, grounding you. “but you need to stop pretending. i know how you feel. i’ve known for a while.”

you blink up at her, stunned. “what?”

karina smiles, just a little, but it’s softer than her usual smirk. “i’m not blind, y/n. and i’m not stupid. you’ve been acting like this for months.”

“acting like what?” you ask, your voice sounding small even to yourself.

“like you’re trying to push me away,” she says, her hand gently squeezing your shoulder. “but i’m not going anywhere.”

you bite your lip, feeling tears of frustration welling up in your eyes. “i’m not trying to push you away,” you mumble. “i just... i don’t know how to deal with this.”

karina sighs softly, stepping even closer so there’s barely any space between the two of you. “then let me help you deal with it,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

“i don’t want to seem needy,” you mutter, still refusing to look her in the eye.

karina lets out a soft laugh, her thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “you’re not needy. you’re just... you. and that’s enough.”

you blink up at her, feeling your walls crumble bit by bit. her touch is so gentle, so warm, and it makes your heart ache in a way that scares you. “yeah, well... maybe i didn’t want to be needy.”

karina’s lips curve into a smirk, but it’s full of affection rather than amusement. “you’re not needy. but even if you were, i wouldn’t care.”

you scoff lightly, but the sound comes out weaker than you intend. “you say that now...”

“i mean it,” she says, her voice low as she leans in slightly. “y/n, i like you. i’ve liked you for a long time.”

your breath catches again, and this time, you can’t hide the way your pulse quickens. “what?”

karina chuckles softly, shaking her head. “god, you’re so dense sometimes,” she teases, though her tone is filled with fondness. “i’m saying i like you. more than just friends. more than anything else.”

you stare at her, your mind racing to catch up with what she’s just said. “you... like me?”

karina nods, her expression softening as she leans in closer, her forehead resting gently against yours. “yeah, y/n. i like you. so stop pushing me away, okay?”

you blink rapidly, trying to process everything. your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest, and for a moment, you feel like you’re going to pass out. “but... what about that blonde?”

karina pulls back slightly, looking at you with an amused smile. “the blonde? you seriously think i’d be interested in her?”

“i don’t know!” you blurt out, feeling flustered. “you seemed pretty into her.”

karina laughs, shaking her head. “god, y/n, you’re something else.” she cups your face in her hands again, her thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks. “i was just being polite. i didn’t even remember her name half the time.”

you feel your face heat up, embarrassed by your own jealousy. “oh.”

karina chuckles softly, her gaze softening as she leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “you don’t have to worry about anyone else,” she murmurs against your skin. “you’re the one i want. always have been.”

you bite your lip, feeling a mixture of relief and nervousness flood through you. “you mean that?”

you blink up at her, feeling your walls crumble just a little more. without thinking, you lean in, pressing your forehead against her chest and letting out a frustrated groan. “ugh, why do you have to be so nice to me?”

karina just laughs softly, running her fingers through your hair. “because someone has to take care of you,” she teases, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “you’re such a brat sometimes.”

you scoff, but the warmth in her voice makes it impossible to stay mad. “i’m not a brat. you just make me act like one.”

“oh, i make you act like that?” she teases again, her voice full of affection as she hugs you tighter. “come on, let’s go inside before ningning sees us and starts asking questions.”

with a reluctant nod, you let her guide you back into the house, her arm draped protectively over your shoulders as the two of you walk upstairs together. the frustration and jealousy from earlier seem to melt away with every step, and by the time you reach your room, you feel lighter, like maybe—just maybe—it’s okay to let someone in, to let someone take care of you for once.

the days after karina’s confession are a blur of stolen glances, secret smiles, and moments that feel like something out of a dream. you still can’t quite believe it, but here you are—walking through the school hallways with karina’s arm slung casually over your shoulders, her presence as grounding as it is exciting. 

and it doesn’t take long for people to notice.

whispers follow you both as you navigate the halls, and it’s not hard to tell what everyone’s talking about. the once-rumored, now-confirmed it couple—you and karina. some people stare in disbelief, others in envy, but you don’t care. karina, as always, seems unfazed, her usual calm, confident demeanor only heightened when she’s with you.

you find yourself tucked under her arm more often than not, her protective hold over you almost possessive but in a way that makes your heart flutter. she’s always close—walking you to class, waiting by your locker, her eyes softening whenever they land on you.

at lunch, you sit with ningning and the others, but now it’s different. karina’s hand rests casually on your thigh under the table, her thumb drawing lazy circles against your skin as she chats with the group. ningning teases you endlessly, of course, but even she can’t deny that you and karina just fit.

"you two are disgusting," ningning jokes, rolling her eyes when she catches karina whisper something in your ear that makes you giggle. "i can’t believe my best friend and my sister are the couple of the year."

karina just smirks, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “get used to it,” she says simply, and you can’t help but blush.

the entire school knows about you now—karina’s arm around you is proof enough—but neither of you care. as long as she’s by your side, you don’t mind the attention.

[fluffydeoxys]

my jeb design, now including the character analysis/design thoughts as part of it! under the cut

Alrightyyy, Jeb is a pretty interesting character, and it took quite a bit of fiddling to get him right and encapsulate the very distinct personality, demeanour and role that he has. I primarily took inspiration from his live-action MPN design, but I changed quite a few elements to suit this vision/image in my head.

Jeb clearly has a very particular, highly egotistical, and composed image of himself. He pronounces himself a saviour (to the point that it's literally his title in MPN, lol), but I don't think this is in a really "clean" or "pretty" way. I purge the wicked. His means of saving is brutal murder, which he occasionally relishes. (But he scorns the brutality and crudeness of others, most notably Hank. Funnily.) Yet, despite that, he talks so eloquently and clearly has a lot of pride in his work and is exceedingly protective of this idea of saving Nevada, making it a better place. Though that's long since fallen to the wayside.

I greatly enjoy the live-action design, but it has a very obvious "combat" focus by placing the body armour over top of his tattered and repurposed scientist coat, which I think is a cool take on him, but I prefer communicating this sort of... eloquence? That contrasts very prominently with how haggard, unkempt and messy he is now. Which I think is a very apt summation of his character; he presents himself well and means well, but he has left a long string of destruction in his wake that he cannot escape from. That will haunt him down to the very bone.

It's why I retained elements such as his tie and coat (more obviously resembling its past appearance), like they're symbols of his past in Project Nexus. The red tie has nice contrast and draws emphasis to his chest, where the dark body armour under his coat lies. Simultaneously, the body armour loosely resembles a waistcoat (or some kind of nice-looking undershirt), giving the illusion of a more composed, tidy appearance. But the belts attached to the sword holster on his back recontextualise his appearance, reminding the viewer that Jeb is a fighter, no longer a civilian scientist.

The coat has multifaceted symbolism. It's a piece of his past for one, but it's worn and tattered and no longer looks like a scientist's coat. What was once more 'civilian' attire now accentuates his appearance as a capable and experienced fighter. It's also the only prominent white piece of clothing on him, and it's worn on top of everything else. It's like wearing shed skin. He is no longer that same man; he should abandon it, yet he clings to it. That old innocence.

Deep down, he's broken and tormented by the things he has done, and it reflects in the arrangement of his colours. The innermost parts of himself are dark layers, punctuated by red, while a facsimile of purity is draped over top.

But you could interpret it that there is still some scrap of good buried in there, deep down, even despite how the halo has twisted and warped him into something borderline unrecognisable. It is a desperate attempt to hold onto the good he still has, the good that he still wants to do.

Further to this idea, the undersides of his shoes being dark, dried red was done intentionally. It's meant to represent the idea of the people he has stepped over and the lives he has ruined in his attempts to fix and save Nexus City and Nevada at large. And he has been doing this for a long, long time. Enough to stain the entire sole of his boots.

Some interesting thoughts/lore bits that came about when making the design were:

A reason why his scientist coat doesn't have long sleeves like you would expect is due to the injuries on his hands. When channeling the halo, the scars on his forearms conduct the dissonance energy from the halo in various arcs of power. Subsequently, the fabric has been charred and burned away, leaving his forearms exposed. One of several downsides granted by the halo and another rather literal example of how it has damaged and ruined various aspects of Jeb's life.

The bandages covering the wounds on his hands are so loose and half-assed because Jeb has to change them daily, which he has found exceedingly annoying and frustrating. While he's not perpetually bleeding from them perse, leaving them exposed poses a risk of infection. But by now, Jeb kind of doesn't care. Caring for himself is kind of the last thing on his mind.

Speaking of his wounds, they're very blatantly paralleling crucifixion wounds, but they have a 'reason' for existing. When Jeb first took the halo, when it bound itself to him for the first time and responded to his desire, it pierced his two hands and chest. It left permanent, painful injuries through which he can channel the halo. These injuries turn purplish when he uses his power to reflect the dissonance steeping into his blood and body.

Having scars extending down his forearms and up his fingers in cross-like designs has some religious imagery, but I think it also nicely conveys some gnarly consequences for having the halo. It's not pretty, and it's definitely not good for him, but being separated from it now would practically kill him. It's a pretty tough lose-lose situation, and it's disfigured both his mind and his body. Further to this idea, it's why he bleeds, and his body barely holds itself together when exerting the full strength of the halo. It's breaking him; his body and mind weren't meant for this power, but he can never let it go. Whether that's because of his ego... or because he believes he's beyond saving.

I do enjoy some interpretations where Jeb is taller than Hank, but personally, with my vision of Hank, that really doesn't work for me. I just like this size difference a lot more. It subtly conveys the difference in 'power' between them as well. Sure, Jeb has killed Hank many times but in the end, it is a force that is of infinite potential, and Jeb is one person. Merely a man. Yet Hank is in endless motion of the Machine's cogs, and Zero is a piece of tapestry woven into subconscious dreams.

To that point, I pretty easily settled on a wiry but still fairly muscled build for Jeb because that just made the most sense to me. He just strikes me as the slender type, and it works in nice contrast to Hofnarr/Tricky, who I see as shorter and rounder. He does NOT take care of himself, and he's probably running on nothing but fumes and the power of the halo on many days, but he's not entirely emaciated. He needs to be strong enough to protect himself and to hunt down well, mostly Hank. And if you're not prepared to face Hank, then you're blindly walking into death's maw.

There's a nice distribution of mostly angular (especially pointed, more narrow shapes) and straight shapes in Jeb's design, especially in his head and fingertips, which are distinctly blocky. His narrower, slanted rectangular head helps convey his age and how it's worn down on him. (It directly contrasts Hofnarr, as well.) These go in direct, nice contrast to the spiky fluff of his hair, which I am quite pleased with. It looks haggard, and it's very good at accentuating his emotions when drawing his expressions. And at his worst, when it looks mangy, it looks very mangy.

Why I draw his halo like a square has no real particular reason, it just kinda happened the first time I properly drew him. But I grew quite attached to it, and it means there's fewer, almost no round elements in his design. However, the choice to make his halo 'emote' was an intentional decision.

I personally believe the halo is directly intertwined with his psyche, and for as much as it corrupts and deludes him, it is also 'affected' by Jeb's mind. While this doesn't really mean anything, the halo isn't really "sentient", it is nonetheless an extension of his "being" whenever it is connected to him. While Jeb is not a forthcoming man, only really letting anger and frustration escape easily, his halo is always transparent. Much to his disdain. It grows pointed and sharp when angry, it drips with sweat when nervous, and it shakes and warps when taken by surprise. I think it's a cute detail, while not being an especially deep one.

Jeb doesn't have as many scars as Hank or Zero because while he has fought a lot, it's nowhere near the sheer amount that those two have. Additionally, it's primarily stitching scars from how many times Jeb has been torn apart and blown up, which is his primary cause of death. The big two-part stitch in the middle is from MC3, I went frame by frame to see how he died there LOL. I probably could've done it for his other deaths, but I'm content with the placement of his stitches. Not too many, but enough to go "wow, he's been stitched back up a lot huh"

His colour palette is also in the 'warm red tone' category once again because I've latched onto it for a few of these characters. I find it a little more visually appealing than giving them primarily monochrome tones (though this is intentionally not the case for Zero, although my thoughts on that are split). I'm not sure if I'll carry this same idea into Sanford and Deimos when I get around to them, but red is a very prominent and reoccurring colour in Nevada, so I think it makes sense. It's not too warm, and it still leans into making Jeb look quite... tired. Plus, I've always found the gradient on his head to be appealing.

He's a man who will forever live with his mistakes, wearing them like skin and bearing them as scars etched into his flesh. In contrast to his worn appearance, the halo on his head shines brightly like a cursed crown perched just above him. A mockery. A man steeped and damned to sin that he cannot escape. And whether he will right his wrongs, who's to say? But I like to think that he wants to try. If how he treats Deimos and Sanford is anything to go by, even if that kindness quickly slips into his delusions...

[ultravi0lence14]

Rhiannon

dean winchester x hippie!reader

1.4k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: as stevie nicks once said; wouldn’t you love to love her. dean could agree with that statement. one hundred percent.

*based on this request

the early morning sun shined in through your window, arrays of pinks, purples and blues mixing in from the multiple coloured crystals and little stained glass designs you had bought. this is why dean loved coming to your apartment. the atmosphere. all the comfort and peace the you had brought into it.

you were the calm that dean needed in his hectic life. the anchor the held him down when things got too much.

he met you when sam had left for stanford, the wounds fresh as he threw back shot after shot in a dingy bar. you were just passing through, a couple of miles away from your apartment and needing to quickly stop somewhere to use the bathroom.

dean’s eyes caught you moving across the bar, the way your jeans hugged your lower half and the flower pattern on your tank top drawing him in. when you retreated from the ladies room, dean was on you like a predator on prey, attempting to elicit a little one night stand.

but you politely declined. though when you tried to walk away from the beaten down man, you saw something else entirely in his eyes.

he looked sad, and you couldn’t help but a feel a bit of empathy for the guy in front of you.

that is how you were raised. your parents telling you to always look for the good in people, being aware of emotions. you weren’t stupid, you understood when people were trying to take advantage of you. but you just liked to be helpful, wanting to make an impact one person at a time.

for the rest of the night, you sat with dean in a booth as he rambled on about his brother and what had happened. he told you that he understood why sam wanted to go on to get a higher education, but he just couldn’t understand why it had to be so far away; why it made their father so angry.

you comforted him the best to your ability. explaining that sometimes people needed a change in their life, and just because his brother left for university doesn’t mean he stopped loving him.

when you both went your separate ways in the parking lot, you couldn’t help but notice the stumble in dean’s step. he knew he was too intoxicated to drive, and was fully prepared to sleep in the impala stationed in the parking lot of the bar.

something inside of you believed that you needed to be of help to this man. and in hindsight, you did the stupidest thing you possibly could’ve done. the one thing parents always warned their kids not to do.

you invited dean to crash at your place.

it was dumb, you knew that. you had just met dean, and he could be an axe murderer for all you know. but the guy was really going through it. and he was so drunk, that you believed the weight of any harmful object in his hands would probably knock him down.

that night, dean slept on your couch, peaceful snores leaving his lips as you slept comfortably in your bed. when he woke up in the morning, dean completely forgot where he was. and then it all came back to him. seeing you in the bar, trying to sleep with you, you turning him down, which then turned into a therapy session that landed him to crash on your couch.

dean was fully planning on leaving, but he couldn’t help himself in taking a peak around your place.

from the couch, he could see the multitude of plants and flowers the covered your living space. it was like a garden, a comforting vibe that also warranted a lovely smell to the home.

there was colour all over the place. from the stained glass lamps on coffee tables to the rows of crystals hanging on string in front of your window. everything was so bright and colourful, and dean couldn’t help himself but stare at the moving colours across the wall.

he also smelt a lingering lavender smell, which was then over powered by the aroma of bacon and pancakes coming from somewhere else in your home. dean couldn’t help himself, he loved bacon. so like a man hypnotized, he followed the debilitating scent of bacon that lingered throughout the air.

as he made his way into the kitchen, he found that the rest of your home was just like the living area. adorned by breezy light pink curtains was a small window over your sink, housing mini plants a crystals alike. there were flowers everywhere. an arrangement by the stove, on the counter, even in the sink. it was overwhelming, but in a good way.

“wow,” he mumbled, groggily slumping into one of the bar stools in front of your counter. “that’s a lot of flowers.”

dean’s voice brought a laugh from your lips, making him look over to where you stood by the stove, stacking pancakes possibly as tall as he was. to this day, dean doesn’t know what it was in the room. all the flowers and greenery, the slight breeze from the open window, maybe it was just your intoxicating beauty. but at that very moment, you looked absolutely ethereal.

you just looked so pretty. the long white skirt falling loosely on your hips. the simple black t shirt that made a perfect canvas for the two braids you put in your hair. he looked down to notice that you were wearing crazy coloured striped socks on your feet, and dean couldn’t help but smile at the little pop of colour that you added to your otherwise basic outfit.

bringing over two plates of breakfast, you sat beside dean at the counter and ate together, just talking and getting to know one another.

it was a simple morning, filled with laughs and weird fun facts that you two threw each others way. when you told him you planned to go to the farmers market, dean couldn’t help himself in taking your offer to come with.

he had never even been to one, not even caring in the slightest for what they had to offer. but some part of dean didn’t want this day to end, and in his heart, he knew he wanted to get to know you more.

you two spent the late morning walking around the farmers market, you grabbing some fresh produce and more crystals as dean took in his surroundings. some of the people he saw looked a little weird, but he knew they probably meant well, and that everything here honestly wasn’t so bad.

when you had grabbed a couple assortments of flowers, telling dean you planned to make some flower crowns at home, he also couldn’t resist in coming back to your place and weaving the stems together by your side.

you two were in a comfortable silence, weaving the crowns in synchrony when dean couldn’t help but break it. “why do you like flowers so much? i can’t help but notice how many you have in your living room alone.”

his words elicited a gorgeous smile from you, and you then went on to explain why you held them so dearly to your heart. “there is just something so beautiful about a flower. they start from a simple seed, then grow into something amazing. i know that probably sounds dumb and i might sound insane, but i just love the whole ideology of it.

“that isn’t dumb, and you most definitely don’t sound insane.” dean had placed his flowers on the ground, slowly reaching out to grab your hand. “in my life, i have to look for the good things at any chance i can find. it’s sometimes nice to have a flower grow out of a bad situation.”

his words brought a soft smile to your lips, and you squeezed his hand before going back to your weaving. “you know, i didn’t expect you to go so philosophical on me there winchester.”

dean grinned back, grabbing his flowers again and following your motions. “well, i’m just full of surprises, flower.”

after that, you and dean spent so much time together. and when dean finally got the courage to kiss you for the first time, it was like everything was more clear to him.

he understood sam’s leaving, and he even tried to reach out to him. he started coming into his own, becoming his own person and even fighting back to his father when he called you a temporary distraction.

that was all years ago. and now, as dean laid beside you, checking his phone to see if sam texted him about any cases, he couldn’t help but silently thank you for all that you’ve done for him.

with a kiss on your cheek, and a mumbled, “i love you, flower,” dean peacefully fell back asleep with you in his arms, completing him in ways he never knew he needed.

[kmt123whatsthetea]

The art of having kids

Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley

Requested by: @jelloangela

Request gist: “Overstimulation and breeding with the Weasley twins”

A/N: Thanks for the request! When it comes to the twins, magic must be real cause I'm under some sort of horny spell lol. I don't know why this one took me so long, writer's block has me in a choke hold.

T/W: Breeding, Overstimulation, Praise, sweet nicknames (I went for one's different than usual), a teeny bit of nipple play (thought I’d add a warning anyway), no aftercare

The day had been such a drag at the joke shop. Normal customers looking at the same old stock. The twins had been at the till all day just people watching. At around 4pm, a couple came in with a small boy. The boy looked so excited by all the colours and noises that the shop provided. He was giggling and touching everything in his reach. His parents trailed behind him, putting everything back in its designated place.

Normally, customers touching things and putting them down would be one of the worst things a retail worker could come across, but this kid was so adorable. After the small family had left, the twins turned to each other. The shared look only meant one thing, you were in for a rough night.

____________________________________________

You had been upstairs in the flat above the shop preparing dinner for when the twins locked up. At first when you hear them running up the stairs, you thought something bad was happening, like a fire or a howler from Mrs Weasley.

The twins practically burst through the door and pulled you out of the kitchen, directing you towards the bedroom before you could even ask questions. Fred was in front of you pulling you by yours hands while George was behind you pushing you with eager hands on your waist. They often got like this, where they’d just ambush you and start tugging at whatever you were wearing.

Fred sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you to stand between his legs while George trapped you there with his slim body. Fred tugged your jeans down along with your underwear, George pulled your blouse up. Both twins worked towards the same thing, getting you as bare as possible, as quick as possible.

When they achieved their goal of getting you naked, they both watched you the same way a hungry owl would watch a lost baby bunny, just waiting to strike with sharp talons. Fred stood up, pushing you onto the bed in his place. The boys stripped off their suits until they both stood before you in their underwear.

“Isn’t our girl so pretty and perfect, Georgie? She’s gonna make an amazing mother”

Fred’s words caught you off guard a little, but didn't put you off. George sat next to you and tutted at his brother.

“Freddie, you’re gonna scare our pretty girl away. How does it sound, angel? Being a pretty mummy for our babies? We’ll keep you so full of our cum until it takes, until you become so round and swollen. Just think of how perfect you’d look with a swollen tummy all because of us”.

George always had a way of talking you into kinky situations. Fred has always been the one to jump at the chance to try a new kink, whereas George would sit you down and discuss it first. He’d give you those puppy dog eyes that only he could and you’d be nodding, eager to try it. And nothing changed this time around.

You nodded, giving the boys the green light to do whatever they pleased. George's lips connected with your neck while Fred snaked his hands to your thighs, pulling your legs around his hips. Fred moved his tip up and down your slit, bumping it against your clit in an effort to get you wetter. George left marks along the skin of your neck while his hand made its way to rub over your nipples, which were slowly hardening beneath his rough fingers.

When Fred felt you were wet enough, he pushed in. Even when he was balls deep, he didn't stop to let you adjust. Fred had always claimed that you never needed to adjust, because they fucked you on a daily basis.

His thrusts were slow but deep, wanting to keep as much on his cock buried inside of you as he could. His hands gripped your hips, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. George's lips moved along your neck and up to your ear.

“Does he feel good, baby? You like having him deep in that little pussy? I bet you do. We’re gonna take care of you. Can’t have the mother of our children lifting a finger, now can we?”

The thought of the twins getting you pregnant caused a moan to slip past your lips. Both boys knew that they had won you over. They'd keep you bed bound until there was a positive pregnancy test if they had to. Fred’s thrusts slowly got quicker, while his hand moved to rub at your clit. He always did that when he got the chance to fuck you, loving the way your walls squeezed around him.

Fred’s eyes locked onto yours, his breath coming out in groans.

“You wanna cum, pretty baby? Get my cock all nice and wet and I’ll fuck a baby into you”

His fingers got quicker circling your clit, and then it hit you. Your walls squeezed Freds cock as you came. George kept his hand busy with your tits while whispering sweet words in your ear. But Fred didn’t slow down. His thrusts stayed the same rhythm, which eventually led to your moans turning to whines and your legs trying to close around his waist to stop the onslaught of pleasure. Fred held your thighs apart, while George directed your attention onto him with his voice.

“Sweet girl, if you want Freddie to fill you up, you need to stay still. Don't want him to pull out, do you?”

Although the pain was intertwined with the pleasure, you still shook your head at the very thought of him pulling out. Fred kept going, slowly bringing you to the brink again. All it took was another orgasm from you to make his thrusts turn sloppy and his cock pulse. With a low groan, he buried himself deep within your pussy, making sure every last drop of his cum would stay inside of you where it belonged. After catching his breath, he turned to George.

“Get up here, it’s gonna all leak out when I pull out”

George got up from his place next to you to stand beside his brother. As soon as Fred pulled out, George pushed in. Fred sat next to you, trying to gently shush the whimper that threatened to escape your lips. George slowly built up to a quick pace, his eyebrows furrowing at Fred who was rubbing your clit.

“Fred, she can't handle more. I bet in this state, she couldn't even tell us apart”.

George was always the caregiver. While Fred insisted that you could take more, always drawing another orgasm from you, George was the one who would be reluctant to push you. It wasn't that he didn't like seeing you in such a blissed out state or didn't think you could handle an orgasm or two, he didn’t like those little pouts and whimpers when the pleasure morphed with pain.

“Oh come on Georgie, our girl can handle it. She’s not made of glass, she can take it. Can’t you, sweets?”

Even after a couple of orgasms, you weren’t completely in subspace. You nodded at George, hoping to ease his worries.

“Please Georgie, I can take it. I want you to fill me up. Please Georgie?”

How could George ever say no to you?

His thrusts got rougher, desperate to give you what you asked. That building pleasure was quick to release, giving you your third orgasm of the night. George kept thrusting, although somewhat reluctantly. When he felt his own orgasm approaching, his thrusts got more manic. Soon, his cum spurted inside of you, mixing with both your own juices and Fred cum. George slowly pulled out, while Fred picked your underwear up and slipped in back up your legs. He was determined to keep it all inside you.

Even if it didn't take the first time, you could always try again the next night.

[tumble-witch]

Out of all of your redesigns so far, which one is your favorite?

Oooohhh, what a fun question!

Tbh, all of them for different reasons

Huge post ahead!!!

At first I didn't like Blue Stray's design that much, but with a few tweaks here and there it really grew on me and now it's probably my favourite to draw. I'm still thinking about the hair color and suit hues, but making her hair all twirly changed everything

From this → To this!

With Golden Beetle it's a different story

I really really like his first design and so far I really like how it looks. Sometimes a pain to draw though, I keep forgetting which spots go where. Maybe I'll change him a bit down the line

I can never recreate his beautiful hair from here TwT

Moth Errer was a group effort. I had an emergency Discord call with my wonderful friends and it turned into an hour long brainstorm about her design. Moth is probably the most packed with details out of all of the designs I had so far!

Her mask is based on traditional Chinese opera masks. I wanted it to look like a butterfly, but also remind of tears running down her face. I took the colours from her canon design, too!

Right now I'm working on her civilian design and damnmnnmdnasfhagf mommy? sorry mommy? sorry

Adrien Agreste is where I relax. Blue Stray merch and crocks stay ON. This man can wear whatever the hell he wants. I also want to dress him in fits I have myself. But for now I just let his spirit posess me whenever I draw him. I love him ok? Ok.

I love Marinette Dupain-Cheng so so much you don't understand. But her fits need to be restricting and not-her. I really want to make her wear something nice for once, like in a Paris Fashion week comic or something. She deserves better

But this?

This is perfection. (the pic is from this post). No, actually Bread Girl as a character literally is perfect. No freckles, always smiling with perfect white teeth, hair tied neatly. I like how uncanny it is

I'll use this design in the new comic, too!

Chloé Bourgeois i think is pretty okay, but I didn't think about her outfit too hard. She def needs to appear more in BGAU

I really like Rose Lavillant as a civilian. It's like an angel posessed my hands when I invented this open shoulder look. Tbh I've been searching for a shirt like that ever since

Her akuma design was rushed, but you can't go wrong with colours like that so it's solid in my books!

Juleka Couffaine absolutely fucking slays. Next.

I wanna work on Nino Lahiffe more, but so far I really like him. I think an earring, some cool ass pants and he's golden! (haha get it? golden?)

He really needs to make an appearance in the first akuma comic!

Alya Cesaire needs a proper full redesign. When she made her first appearance it was a one-time thing. I didn't expect to spend on this AU more than 40 minutes of my life! I can do better than a full Nino fit for her

Phew! That was a lot. It was fun to remember some old stuff, thanks again anon!

[allisluv]

JOHANNA GIVING READER SNACKS WHEN HER BLOOD SUGAR IS SLOW WLW

Ok thanks honey 🤭-

whipped.

pairing: johanna mason x fem!reader

content warnings: pre-established relationship, johanna is in fact whipped, alcohol, brief mention of the drinks used in the capitol to make you sick, low blood sugars and diabetes, my limited medical knowledge but i pinky promise i tried my best, teasing, use of pet-names.

authors note: i myself do not have diabetes so please correct me if anything i said is portrayed incorrectly! i did try my best to research and my intentions are never to cause any harm or offence <3 // reblogs and comments are appreciated!

word count: 0.9k

Johanna Mason has been described as many, many things in her very short lifetime; cold-hearted, blunt, manipulative, sneaky, rude--- now that she thinks of it, almost every negative adjective to ever exist has been attributed to her at least once.

And honestly? She wouldn't say they're wrong. It's not that she wants to be any of those things. She just kind of... is. And, well, she figures it is far too late in her life to change her tune now. Besides, there would be no point, not when this lifestyle works for her.

She doesn't mind them thinking badly of her, really. They're Capitol-- they drink alcohol specifically designed to make them sick with the sole purpose of eating more, meanwhile people in the districts have their ribs on display.

Their selfish opinions do not matter in the slightest to her, but at the same time, she doesn't mind playing into it, either. Half of them think she will jam a carving knife into their jugular if they approach her, so they steer clear, which works just fine for her.

Johanna hates these Capitol galas, anyway. She loathes the bright colours and the obnoxious outfits and the food that shouts greed! in everybody's faces.

If it weren't mandatory to attend the galas, she would avoid them. But unfortunately for her, it is mandatory, so she just has to suck it up for another five hours.

Great.

The one thing that makes this awful situation even remotely bearable is you.

When she grips a flask of champagne so tightly that it turns into a very real possibility that it might shatter in her hand, you redirect her attention and it's easier to breathe.

When a drunk Capitol citizen decides to be brave enough to strike up a conversation with the two of you, she's grateful when you swoop in and manage to come up with excuse after excuse on why you have to leave.

Everything is easier with you.

Johanna is in the middle of scowling at two women from the Capitol who keep going on and on about this years upcoming games when she catches sight of a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. She watches as you sway on your feet and grasp the corner of a nearby sofa to steady yourself.

She frowns, stepping closer to you and securing an arm around your waist to keep you from falling. "Are you okay?" You nod and give her a weak smile that she can see right through. "Bullshit."

One of the Capitol women smiles into her glass of wine. "Well, looks like someone can't handle their liquor, huh?" Her friend dissolves into a fit of giggles.

Johanna resists the urge to snap back at them, and instead, focuses in on you. "Babe. You done with the bullshitting?"

You try to brush her hand off and insist, "I'm fine, I'm fine. Just got a bit dizzy is all."

A crease forms between her sharp brows. She doesn't bother saying goodbye as she steers you away from the women and out of the gala, into a secluded hallway. "Have you checked your sugars lately?"

You shake your head and she heaves a sigh, helping you sit down in a leather armchair.

She kneels down by your feet and takes your unsteady hands in hers. "Give me your bag. C'mon."

You unloop your bag from around your body and hand her it. She digs through the contents until she finds your blood glucose meter.

She's done this many a time before. She inserts the test strip into the meter and uses the lancing device to prick your pointer finger. A quiet wince of pain hisses from your lips and she mutters a quiet, "I know, I know. I'm sorry." She squeezes the blood onto the test strip and holds your other hand as she waits for the reading. A number flashes on the screen, far too low for her liking, and she frowns. "You're a little low. We need to get those sugars up, alright?"

Johanna wastes no time in rooting through your bag for the juice box you keep stashed in there for emergencies like this one. She pops the straw through the hole at the top and raises it to your parted lips. Her free hand rests on your knee, and she smooths the pad of her thumb up and over your skin as you take slow sips.

Once she's satisfied, she sits back on her heels and sets the juice box down on the floor beside her. "We're gonna wait a while for that to get into your system, okay, sweetheart? Then we can check again, and if they aren't up, we can try the skittles."

There's a moment of quiet, where the only sounds come from inside the ballroom down the hall.

You lean back in the leather armchair as Johanna continues to hold your hand. "You don't have to do this, you know." You say eventually.

"Do what?" Johanna frowns.

"Take care of me. You don't have to."

"I know that," She nods, and as if she can read your mind, she says, "I am not doing this out of obligation, you know that, right? I'm simply doing this because I love you."

A small, tired smile tugs at the corner of your lips. "Finnick was right."

She cocks her head to one side. "How do you mean?"

"He told me you were whipped. I just didn't believe him."

Rolling her eyes, she scoffs. "I am the furthest thing from whipped, all have you know."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"So, if I asked you to go get me a bottle of water, you would?"

"Why? Do you want water? I can go get some--"

You grin victoriously. "See? Whipped!"

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 23/10✨

I'm LIVE on my TWITCH page drawing Spicynoodle! Come and say hi!

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: Ok so your Bio parent AU (loving it so much by the way) takes place after season 5 right? I thought it would be cool if you touched on Monkey Kings issues with Mk using the circuit on him. I eat that stuff up. if its already going in a different direction then that's ok, just a suggestion.

Aww in the end I don't think I can fit this in the story. It's absolutely an amazing idea, and I had thought of adding it for so long, but in the end the final part of the story will go differently.

Anonimo ha chiesto: How do Wukong and Macaque react that they have two grandchildren?? (Kai and Nya)

Will probably die of emotions. The fact that that's both their son's son/daughter, and that's their nephew/niece. It would blow them away. I'll never have children, but they completely change your prespective.

@shadowpeachera ha chiesto: AGHHHHHH XIAOTIANS WEAPON IS SOOO COOOOLLL AND THE WAY YOUR SHOWED HIM MAKING IT AGHHHHHH SO GOOD HOW LONG DID IT TAKE YOU TO COME UP WITH THE DESIGN? THE COLOURS? THE EVERYTHING UGHH I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS COMIC AGHHH

I think I did a couple of sketches before the final design, but I went on pinterest quite a lot before to see some variations of magical staff

@beanspassin ha chiesto: Do you think Macaque and Wukong will ever find out about each other secretly checking the other out? Cause let’s face it, Wukong will get a MASSIVE ego boost when he finds out Macaque was staring at him. 🤭

I think Macaque can HEAR when Wukong is checking him out. Wukong probably would negate the fact that he's checking him out, bc my boy is just a mess of emotion

@tessthe-cheesecake ha chiesto: Hello! I just wanted to say I really love your Shadowpeach Bio Parent AU I just have two questions, one: how is MK handling four ears? I assume he doesn't like crowded places (if yes then me too bud me too) ok second question would MK ever go back to being Wukong's successor but in his own way instead? :)

I think MK doesn't want to be a successor bc he doesn't want to be the next Monkey King, but he still wants to be the Monkie Kid. Also, I think he might be starting to feel himself a little more like an heir then a successor

@minli-daughter-of-wukong ha chiesto: So, would you have changed MK’s weapon if you thought a staff wasn’t really his style anymore? Also how did you come up with the idea for the sunset staff and can you give tips on how to find the right kind of weapon you’d choose for a character? So this is so long lol

I aint real good with weapon/characters. This was my first time matching a weapon to a character to be honest. I wanted to create something that was similar to both Wukong's and Macaque's staff, but at the same time being something new. With a new color palette that could represent the kind of hero MK wants to be

@cavern-of-shenanigans ha chiesto: Ok ok ok this is kind of silly but MKs new staff kind of reminds me of a twirling baton So combined with Macaques showmanship and the scarf bit MK tied on, they could play around with it and do a joint shadow play/ribbon dance performance! Maybe add him into the hero warrior story? Nice mother son bonding activity because its cute

HA! true! they are performance duo!

@ashmeertheimp ha chiesto: Hi love your fan art, story,and art style! What if piggsy and Tang went on a long trip and lives in flower fruit Mountain

I don't think freenoodle could survive living so close to shadowpeach

@italian-wizarding-world ha chiesto: Duuude i love, Love, LOVE!!! your art, and your Mk, Wu and Mama it's just too sweet, just two question: 1 Why sunset and not dawn? is it because usually sunset are more impresive? or maybe the staff has two "forms" depending on him using more his shadow powers and if so can he change between them? 2 We need red son reaction to Mk essentially magical girl transformation even if it's just a sparkling staff, because i think it would be epic/hilarious. We need more moment about them and Mei lookin at how dumb both are

I liked sunset because in a way MK started more with Sun powers and he is now discovering more his Macaque side of powers, so he's approaching a little bit the shadows (so his journey was from day to slowly twilight)

Anonimo ha chiesto: Have you ever thought about drawing an adult MK? I love your drawing style, and I wanted to see what an adult MK would look like, as well as Mei and Red Son. Você já pensou em desenhar um MK adulto? Eu amo seu estilo de desenho, e eu queria ver como seria um MK adulto, assim como Mei e Red Son.(I'm Brazilian by the way and I love reading your Au)

Maybe in the future....?

Anonimo ha chiesto: I REALLY REALLY REALLY LOVE NO ..I ADORE YOUR DRAWINGS MAN!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ EVERY DAY I REREAD THE WHOLE LMK COMICS OF YOURS..!!!!!!❤️❤️ And hey l have a quition!!! What if mk interrupted wukong while his meditation and like wukong thinks he's in the past what is he gonna do when he see mac!?🌝❤️ Probably we will see a lot of hugs and kisses?🥹

Can you imagine since they are so cuddly even if they aren't together yet again in the AU, that because of this Macaque for a good moment DOESN'T notice the difference?

Anonimo ha chiesto: Can we get a character sheet for chiyou?

nope sorry, but he will come back no worry

Anonimo ha chiesto: Who else wants to see Pigsy and Tang show Monkey King and Macaque pictures of MK growing up?

Aww I think Wukong and Macaque would die from cuteness but at the same time feel a great remorse that they weren't there for their child when he was little. They are glad freenoodle was with them, but still, It's a big chunk of his life that they missed.

@itz-izzyart ha chiesto: So with the noise canceling headphones, does mk wear them so he (hopefully) doesn’t start hearing the past again or is it just something he wears to help him sleep at night?

Both. It helps him muffle the noise.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Would Wukong get ptsd if MK somehow got a circlet himself ?

He would probably loose all his immortalities rather than let MK have a circlet.

@loseranddummy ha chiesto: I have a ≈question≈ is Peng gonna be in your lmk bio parent comic by chance?

mmmm nope, sorry

@oddogoblino ha chiesto: Beeeeeg monke armmssss...meant for hug jail...

yessss..... and cudlleeeeeee...

Anonimo ha chiesto: :D was macaque grooming mk while they were waiting for the weapon to be forged

yup!

Anonimo ha chiesto: HI! Hope you're well and staying hydrated. Would we/could we see more Lilo and Stitch refs for your ShadowPeach bio parents au? I saw the last one and couldn't stop laughing. 😆 Maybe a beach scene or something?

I'll have to see the movie again and I'll see if new idea come in my mind

Anonimo ha chiesto: Have you ever thought about that because Macaque was gone from the living world for so long he doesn't know how use modern technology. Like Wukong's phone will go off when he isn't there and Macaque can't figure out how to get the stupid thing to be quiet

They are both gay boomers, your honor

Anonimo ha chiesto: In your shadowpeach au who is a morning person and who is a night owl Macaque or Wukong?

none of them. Wukong sleeps like 12 hours and Macaque like 5. (but now he's sleeping more thanks to Wukong but still wakes up earlier than Wukong)

[piratefern]

Okay I know this ask was completely satire and im cackling at whatever the hell this is LMAO

But it also actually inspired me to finish my genderswap au concepts of my plaguemask au TADA!!!!

I thought if they were sapphics in a genderswap au then some things would change about their designs and perhaps aspects of the story :3 Also ignore the picnic basket, they aren’t canibals I realised it looked that way too late 😭

With Dyo, I looked into what his original name meant and I found stuff like “two sides” I think, but since I didn’t make that a core part of his character im giving the genderswap au a slight name change LMAO so I called her Dya, (pronounced Dia perchance)

I also shortened her hair as opposed to just making it longer, because that just felt a bit lazy and inaccurate, plus the short hair is silly >:3 Since they met at the theatre, I wanted to give Dya shorter hair so she could fit in to the male cast, and she likely would have hid her chest with something like bandages (obviously dont do that, its like 1601 this is happening) since back then women weren’t allowed to perform, so it speaks to her more rebellious nature :3

I based Hasel’s swap off of a plague nurse as opposed to a plague doctor and changed her name to Hazel (original is said Hassle in my head) and I know this takes place before the existence of plague nurses and plague doctors however I like the theory that plague doctors were based off of 049 rather than the other way around so ill be having that methinks

so in this sense her outfit radiates purity due to the colour and the more coveted clothing sense, however the dark aspects of her character that aren’t her clothes, such as her hair, indicate a hidden side beneath her politeness and court attitude, alluding to her monster form and dark past :3

Her form in general is pretty much the same as the original, the only difference really is her face shape being pointy as opposed to curved, and her little hair tuft I added at the top of her head

When she leave’s Dya at WW1, Dya’s hair starts to look similar to hers just like the original au and vice versa, Dya also would have started wearing a cloak similar to hers and a turtleneck sweater reflecting the undergarments she used to wear :3

After a while Hazel would have started to lose the garments but im not sure to what extent, a similar cloak level to original au Hasel probably with just a cloak with the hood down, or perhaps she rolls up her sleeves and sews the dress into pants? She might look like a principal though, so maybe she loses everything but the veil and sews it into a poncho yeah HELLS YEAH I like that one better, original au callback to Dyo’s ponch too, silly

Another thing to note is that if Hasel and Dyo are the only characters gender swapped in the gender swap au, then Hazel would have been in a sapphic relationship with her wife and would have adopted their daughter (however she would likely just call her her “partner” until she finds out Dya is queer too due to social constraints at the time as it would have been illegal for them to legally marry but I like to think they ignored that hehe)

So having said that it would eliminate a part from the original au where Hasel realises he’s queer, since in the genderswap au Hazel would have known all along given she already had a wife in the past, it would change some things about how the characters act, mainly Dya, I feel she would be more open to attempt to court Hazel given that she knows she’s queer which would speed up the slow burn of my original au LMAO

[ranticore]

I wanted to keep drawing some pern dragon stuff because I'm now writing a full AU set in weyr but I didn't want to put this stuff on my main blog or patreon due to it being basically for my own reference, though i felt others would like it too! so here is My Take On Dragon Wings By Type...

It's no secret I love drawing bird wings and prefer them a lot over traditional dragon wings. Growing up, I read the pern books featuring cover art of dragonfly-like wings with lots of little translucent panels, which I always loved. So I thought I'd try to nail down some wing shapes & structures by blending those two things i like together. I am aware dragons fly by telekinesis but I prefer a more realistic type of creature design so I will be choosing to ignore that fact. I do not care about strict canon compliance but I do like to keep some of that framework there as well, for fun.

The wing is made up of three main sails, as well as a propatagium sail (in front of the elbow). They are relatively polymorphic and can expand or contract to an extent to change the shape of the wing in response to flight demands, like the wing of an airliner. The trailing edge can expand and the slots between the spars of the 1st wingsail can deepen or become shallower (where those are a feature). The main structural matrix is opaque, while the membranous 'sails' are translucent and let light through like stained glass. These are a bilayer of membrane with air sandwiched between, which forms part of the air sac & respiratory system.

It makes sense for the original engineers of dragons to diversify dragon wing types by colour so that when fighting Thread, there's a dragon for every conceivable aerial job.

[individual descriptions under the cut]

Queens have the longest wings, though the largest bronzes can rival them for surface area. Gold wings are high endurance - a queen can fly further than any other dragon in active level flight, leaving even the swiftest bronzes behind if they can't muster up the energy reserves to catch her. She is an effective flier at all elevations and can pass very low over terrain without issue as well; she is an expert at taking advantage of the ground effect, where extra lift is generated within one half of a wingspan above land. This way, she can pass low below the main wings fighting Thread to catch any stragglers without expending too much energy. However, she is not very agile and may need a bit of a run-up or cliff-edge to get airborne.

Bronzes are suited for command positions during Threadfall, rising highest and maintaining that altitude effortlessly by soaring on thermals. From this vantage point they can easily survey the wings of riders below and make tactical decisions to direct the tide of battle. They have the size and stamina to chase queens, but might find it difficult to keep up on the flat, so they continually select for fitter hatchlings as only the best manage to mate. It takes a very clever and agile bronze to catch a green, if they are so inclined.

Browns are swift, highly agile, and the fastest vertical fliers, ideal for diving through the Thread mass from top to bottom while the other types pass horizontally. During earlier Passes, browns were capable of using their speed to catch queens, but as queen & bronze endurance gradually increased, browns struggle to keep up if they haven't managed to immediately catch their mate in the starting scrum, which is unlikely due to the bulkier bronze dragons being able to shove the browns aside.

Blues are fast on the flat and nicely manoeuvrable, with enough endurance to last a full Threadfall. Good all-rounders with a characteristic vertical take-off, they work best in the horizontal plane in battle but really they can do a little bit of everything. They often beat browns to catch greens, being very precise in flight and almost as manoeuvrable as their green mates.

Greens make up for their low stamina with their extreme manoeuvrability. Their short and elliptical wings let them turn on a dime, hover, and even fly backwards if they are sufficiently skilled. They have the fastest wingbeats, flying with a distinct thrumming sound. Of all the types they are least likely to be hit by a stray Thread, but they tire easily on the flat and have no soaring ability at all, often tapping out midway through battle in favour of replacements. In battle, greens excel at catching odd and skewed clumps of Thread that don't fall as predicted, or ones that are missed by the other riders. Green mating flights are a whole different beast to gold mating flights, where extreme aerial acrobatics are favoured instead of endurance and altitude, and these flights may be over within seconds. You need to be able to withstand a Lot of G-force to be a green rider.

[p0uncivall]

I’ve seen people complaining about how Joxter looks in Moominvalley so I’m gonna gush about everything I love about this design

A lot of people don’t like his hair, and I do think my boy needs to fix his bangs a little bit, but I am obsessed specifically with the strands at the side of his face

It feels like they’ve looked at fanart to inspire something like that, and maybe I’m saying that because I draw him with those hair things and I feel validated, but still.

I was honestly expecting him to look like recoloured Snufkin, but he’s not. His eyes are especially distinct with that more cat like look that again I think is a really nice nod to the things the fandom latched onto from Joxter’s book design and personality.

The added details to his coat are also wonderful. The buttons, the patches. To me the patches feel like a way to show his age without changing his design too much or risking facial signs of age looking strange with the animation style.

My favourite detail that I noticed was that he has hyperpigmentation! Comparing his skin to Snufkin’s skin shows it’s not just a style thing, he has patches of skin that are slightly darker and it seems to explain the darker colour of his forehead and nose, which I think is such a cool little addition!

There was a lot wrong with season 4 and the fandom was disappointed in many ways. But to me everything about Joxter from his design to his “I don’t believe in remembering names” and blatant stoner vibes are a love letter to the fans. I couldn’t be happier with the character they gave us.

[fated-normal-767]

Close up of the ghost phantasm one because it just looks cool as hell actually I could image putting a sticker with this design on my laptop.

creature.

LA CREATURA !!! I like the transition from kindergarten fit to some sort of vampire on their part . They’re so the silllyyy <333344 . I appreciate Elias hitting the ‘I see no difference’ pose in the corner .

[my-my-my]

Let’s talk about Shunsui’s bankai, Katen Kyokotsu: Karamatsu Shinju!

There are different translations for it, with Viz’s translation being “Flower Crazed Heaven Bone Spirit Withered Pine Love Suicide.” Personally it’s not my favourite translation, I prefer this fan one “bones of heavenly blooming madness: withering pine lovers’ suicide.” Kubo apparently went through different variations for the name of katen kyokotsu: karamatsu shinju. At first it was kuromatsu, which is a specific pine tree (“black pine”), then it was karematsu which is “withered pine,” to what we have now, karamatsu – “withering pine.” Which is a more fitting name imo due to the nature of Shunsui’s bankai causing everyone in its range to “wither” with depression.

I wanted to focus on the anime depiction of his bankai because I personally found it enhanced my understanding of Shunsui and his bankai more than the manga did, but that’s not to say there’s anything wrong with the manga! I’ll also be adding bits of manga panels/sketches too. There are little additions in the anime that really fleshed out the “theatrical” nature of his bankai.

Content warning: this is TEXT and media heavy (images and video) and due to the nature of Shunsui's bankai, discusses suicide.

To preface this, I wrote this because I was so enthralled by the visual and sound design in the episode that I wanted to know more, so I figured I would share what I found and learned! Also, I’m still not too sure what kind of “play” Shunsui bankai performs (as in, is it Noh, kabuki, joruri, etc.), but maybe it’s a little bit of everything? I don’t have the cultural knowledge to make better sense of it, so you’ll see me referencing different theatre styles in my write-up lol. I am by no means an expert, just sharing what I’ve learned and understood!

For reference, noh uses masks and subtle movements where stories are often spiritual. Kabuki is dramatic and incorporates dance, music and elaborate costumes. In ancient times, noh theatre started as rituals for Shinto shrines (the Ise family is a Shinto family as an fyi).

To start – the opening act itself: Shunsui calling his bankai. We are immediately hit by a change in visuals and audio. A tsuzumi drum is heard, which is often used to signal the start of a kabuki or noh play. We also see the scenery change into a gold colour. I think this is to mimic the wooden stage kabuki and noh plays occur on.

Then we have the kakegoe being yelled (the “yooo”). This is a quintessential feature of noh and kabuki theatre and (prior to COVID-19), would be yelled by the audience (typically fans who belong to a kakegoe association). Another fun fact, these would be yelled from the far back, on the highest level of the theatre, to represent the voice of the “great beyond.” Kakegoe is often used to signal the beginning or ending of a section. The kakegoe also dictate the pace, meter and strength of the play in addition to the percussion instruments.

Visually, we only see Shunsui “painting” a black pine tree. All noh plays have a simple panel of a green pine tree. This is referred to as the kagami-ita (“mirror panel”). All noh plays are performed in front of this pine tree. The pine tree represents gods that have descended upon a pine tree at the Kasuga-Taisha Shrine and stood behind the audience, so the pine tree “reflects” on the audience  so actors would give a performance to god.

I think Kubo does a subversion here, as the kagami-ita’s meaning is to represent the stage as a “divine” space. But this is a withering pine tree – it’s black, and is not painted behind Shunsui, but is painted in front and spreads almost in a downward motion. As Lille descends, there is no pine tree behind him, even though he is a “divine” being. While a black pine tree represents “longevity,” “happiness,” and “hope” in Japanese floral language, a withering pine represents the opposite. Shunsui’s bankai reflects his despair over his brother, sister-in-law and Nanao.

Overall, I think it’s deliberate take on using a traditional theatre technique, one that is considered “divine” and twist it to something almost opposite. As if Shunsui is welcoming Lille into his own personal hell.

ACT 1: Tameraikizu no Wakachiai – Sharing the Wounds of Hesitation

"As though to share in his suffering, the wounds upon his partner's body appear upon his own. Yet in a cruel twist of fate, he cannot die from those wounds."

I think the common idea is that Shunsui’s bankai is based off the play “The Love Suicides at Sonezaki,” by Chikamatsu Monzaemon. But I think it’s just Act 1 that represents that play. I think Kubo incorporated different plays and cultural features for each act, and this is the one for Act 1. I think there was a Klub Outside answer where Kubo implies that there are different plays Shunsui's bankai can perform.

Also to note, in the manga when Shunsui brings out his bankai, the chapter sketch are kabuki curtains.

Act 1 is loosely similar to “The Love Suicides at Sonezaki,” where the man stabs both himself and his partner to death, and they die from his wounds. They do this in front of an unusual pine tree and the play ends. The reason leading up to their suicide is entirely different and doesn’t narratively fit into Shunsui and his life imo.

Metaphorically, I interpreted this as Shunsui’s grief over the Ise curse. The Ise curse is the wound, killing Shunsui’s brother (physical pain) leaving him and his sister-in-law (Nanao’s mother) to “share” the wound (in emotional pain).

ACT 2: Zanki no Shitone – The Bed of Shame

“Lamenting that he has caused his partner such wounds, the man collapses upon the floor in shame and is consumed by an incurable ailment.”

This was a short scene in the anime and I think this is referencing an act in Yotsuya Kaidan, one of the “big three ghost stories” of Japan. It’s based on betrayal, murder and revenge. The plot is quite long not entirely relevant to Act 2 lol but in one of the acts, a character is betrayed and becomes poisoned. This may vary by interpretation, but the character looks “diseased.” They become disfigured, die by an accidental self-inflicted wound and begin cursing/haunting those that wronged them.

Aside from that, I couldn’t find much more in terms of references this act might be incorporating.

ACT 3: Dangyo no Fuchi – The Abyss

“Resigning themselves to their fate, the two hurl themselves into the gushing waters until no Reiatsu remains in their bodies.”

“Throwing oneself into icy waters can test one’s resolve. But that’s you being selfish. How can disgraceful can you be? The disgrace of the man she swore herself to. Only pity keeps her with him and bound to this world.”

The above is the full quote said simultaneously by Shunsui and Katen and I think is a reference to Kasane, a kabuki play. It is a story about a woman who unknowingly falls in love with her mother’s affair partner/father’s murderer. The man, Yoemon, leaves a suicide note that Kasane, his lover, finds. She’s distraught and keeps reminding Yoemon that they swore they would die together. They argue between themselves, with Yoemon saying he cannot love Kasane due to their stations in life (she is a lady-in-waiting, he is a servant). They both agree to jump into a river, but the man backs out, which leads to the woman being cursed into a demon.

The reason why she becomes cursed is because Yoemon sees a floating skull floating down the river. Katen Kyokotsu who has skull motifs in her design, is also a reference to the kyokotsu, a vengeful spirit that resides in wells and other bodies of water to scare its victims. It is a skull with tangled hair and tattered clothes. Yoemon, in the play, only sees the skull floating down the river before he tries to break it. As he tries to break it, he simultaneously harms Kasane, leaving her in a demonic state.

Without summarizing the whole play, I see Kubo’s take on this as another twist. Kasane is a story about a woman so in love, she’s blinded to the faults of her lover to her own detriment (she becomes disfigured and killed by her lover). In Act 3 of Shunsui’s bankai, the “woman” in the play (Shunsui in this case to “the man” who is Lille), is ashamed of the man and there is no more love between them – the only thing keeping them together in this act of potential suicide is her pity.

Both parties, in the play and Shunsui’s act 3, are “forced” to watch the other die.

ACT 4: Itokiribasami Chizome no Nodobue – Thread-Cutting Scissors upon a Blood-Streaked Throat

“Few things are as cruel as a woman's mercy. She has no ears for her lover's desperate pleas. At his precious throat, she spies glistening white threads, damp with regret. Thus, she resolves to sever with her own hands those threads of regret that pitifully entwine him.”

I saw some theories that this act may be a reference to kuchisake-onna (“split-mouthed woman”), because she carries scissors with her. I’m not too sure of it, I think this might be a broader reference to the red thread of fate, and Shunsui/the lover “cutting” it to split from their shared fate. In the manga, the little sketch is a pair of Japanese thread cutting scissors.

In this case, it’s interesting that “white thread” is what’s being cut (compared to “red thread” which is more commonly seen in Japanese media). White thread, in Shintoism is often considered a sacred colour of the gods and represents spiritual and physical purity. In Buddhism, white thread is used to protect a person against demons and spirits…  

I’ve always interpreted the sketch to be Nanao’s mother cutting the thread between her and Kyoraku, leaving him alone (in a familial sense). The subsequent sketch is the broken thread being tied together, which I think is Nanao’s presence in Shunsui’s life.

Thanks for reading all of this! I’m still 🫣 over writing all of this lol.

[angellayercake]

RITE HERE RITE NOW RANT

Where were the other Papas??⁉️? It isn't right that they had a combined thirty seconds of screen time!! 😡😡 If it wasn't for them Then copua wouldn't even this opportunity would he?🚫?

ANd to make it worse🤬 it was lonG‼️So there should have been more time.to. honour papas of the past🙌 but I have already made this point. I had to go to the BATHROOM🚽two times 2️⃣ because it was so long. also who wants tolook at him that long anyway👹

why??????❓❔⁉️ does he get so many outfits! Designer outfits twenty of the same jackets in different colours??🔵🔴🟡⚫🟢 some papas just wore their robes(boring) and some papas were forced to have their shirts sewn into their jackets with very improper tailoring just because ""if you INsist on white gloves that need To be changed every day we have to cut costs elsewhere👿"* but cooia gets two robes ANS everything else???

Papa Iii is much more handsome 🧛and would look much better in the hd4k surroundsound big screen then HIM SO papa iiI deserves a film more and they should bring jim back just to show everyone this😏 and go show the people what its like to see songs sang. Properly!!! you have not been ciriced until you have been ciriced by papa 3💜💜💟 or so I have heard snyway...

YHE ONLY THING that is good is that it accurately shows what a rude SELFish self absorbed man this cOPis is(although the old man deserves no respect 👍🏻👍🏻) just tonight he ate the last cannoli without offering to aNYONE!!! ELSE‼️‼️ SO this i do think the film does right

BUT....

The door slams open and he almost drops his phone in surprise. He was sat where he had been sat all evening, collapsed into this chair in the clergy commons after his disappointing dinner, thinking. His expression soured even further now it seemed another one of his brothers was here to ruin his day.

"Are you reading reviews of the movie again, frattelino?" Secondo asks, squinting at him across the dark room. "There is steam coming from your ears."

"I am not reading them no," he smirks a little, pushing the glasses he usually pretends not to need up his nose before continuing to tap away at his phone with his pointer finger. Secondo flicks on the light switch disrupting him once again with the blinding light so he shoots him a quick glare before resuming his somewhat frantic yet stilted typing.

"I do not like that look," he accuses, pointing at him as he crosses the room. "What are you doing then?" He circles the armchair in which Terzo is slouched, leaning around to look at the screen over his shoulder.

"None of your business," he pulls the phone to his chest to hide the screen. "Why must you stick your big old nose where it is not wanted eh?"

"Let me see!" He tries to wriggle away from his brother's seeking hand, tustling each other like they used to when they were children. He almost slides free but his escape is thwarted but his stupidly large brothers hand clamping onto his shoulder and pulling away his phone with the other.

"Give that BACK!" He struggles out of the squishy chair pushing his glasses back up into his hair so he can glare uninterrupted at his brother who is now scrolling through his review, shaking his head and tutting like a stupid old chicken.

"Terzo this isn't very nice," he says it so patronisingly he has to resist stamping his foot in frustration. Why should he be nice! He never got a moment like this and if he had he knows he would have done more, done better. And shouldn't Secondo be mad too?

"I stand by what I said," he huffs crossing his arms indignantly. "Aren't you annoyed? That we barely got a mention? Just that we were dead?"

"Well I would say I got about twenty of the thirty seconds we were on screen so how can I complain?" He expects the typical reaction he usually gets when he teases his brother but when Terzo instead, visibly deflates before flopping back into his chair he realises this might be a bit deeper than he thought.

"Terzo, come now, what is really the matter?" He moves to perch on the arm of the chair, handing him back his phone. When he doesn't respond straight away he reaches over to mess with his brother's habitually pristine hair, ruffling it into a birdnest as he used to before whenever Terzo got in his head and needed a distraction.

"Ay!" He shouts batting at his hand but at least he is glaring at him again instead of pouting dejectedly.

"I am happy for Copia, I suppose," he starts hesitantly smoothing his hair back into place. "It's just, we all worked hard too, and yes we may have not been as successful but without us to lay the ground work whose to say he would be 'rite here, rite now'." He waves his hands around, air quoting the title of the film dramatically.

"You are not wrong frattelino," he pauses before continuing trying to decide how to best console him. "But that is not what this story is about. It is about truly experiencing the moment you are in now, and not letting the times of the past or the what ifs of the future ruin it." His shoulders drop with a sigh so he wraps an arm around him squeezing him firmly.

"I just never got to..." He trails off but they both know what he was about to say.

"I know," he squeezes him again. "And none of that makes what they did to you right but that is in the past. People still love us no? We still have many praising us and screaming our names no matter what Copia does. We all have a place. Ours was over there, back then but who knows what the future will bring?" He stops when he sees his brother finally perking up.

"You are right I suppose," he shoots him a sideways glance. "This time at least." He picks up his phone and repositions his glasses on his nose. "I better delete all this then" He starts to tap away at the screen but Secondo stills his hand.

"I didn't say that," He says with a smirk. "You should add one about how his wig looks terrible."

"But Copia doesn't wear a... Oh!" They are far too old for this, Secondo thinks as they giggle like children coming up with more and more ridiculous complaints about the film. But right here, right now, he doesn't care.