#then I got too lazy to add any sketches into the notebook

[zylphiacrowley]

and I'm in love with you too.

[milo-is-rambling]

I really want to paint something big. I think it would do something. Make me feel something. I want a big canvas project. Like a canvas the same height as me. That would be so expensive but I want it. I don’t even have paper that big I only have regular printer paper and maybe 11 x 17 (printer department flashbacks) ughhhhhhh. What time does five below open. Maybe. No. Ugh fucking stupid baby car (in my head I’m like a sim I’m stomping outside and kicking over the trash can) I hate the baby car. Maybe I could suck it up. If I can go early. It won’t be crazy hot (lying) but I could go to five below and get at least a bigger sketch pad (I know I have so many notebooks and sketchbooks and smaller canvases I’m not using rn that are fine but I want the happy buying things chemicals) I am so tired right now and I took a very large bong rip and now I’m just stream of consciousness typing and it’s ugh yeah my brain is tired and I want to be happy and do something I can pretend is productive but I don’t have any real ideas for art stuff. Well I did have an idea last night for a cardboard thing. Hmmm. And I haven’t done magazine collage in a while I could do that. Hmmmmm. I feel like if i don’t do something productive soon I’m going to explode (taking meds is working. Also three weeks back on meds as of yesterday) maybe I’ll move around my flags and posters today…… hmmm. However my mom did come into my room the other day (hanging out with funk) and randomly look at my wall (she doesn’t normally sit at my desk to look closely at that wall) and she was just like wow there’s a lot of thumbtacks in that wall. So I do feel like maybe moving posters and stuff is not the move. However. I also feel like I desperately need to get out of the patterns I’m stuck in so I want to change my environment instead of myself bc I’m avoiding changing myself always for reasons I’m not even sure of. Lie. Putting in effort scares me. Knowing i could put work into being a person and still crumble again and lose it all is terrifying and it feels like every time something goes well something else comes crashing down and I can never have everything going well at once. That’s why. But that’s also an excuse to not change my shitty behavior bc it’s hard and I’m lazy. But is that the mean voice in my head or is that the truth. Am I lazy or have I been depressed for so long I don’t know how to be happy. I was thinking about natural selection yesterday while I was swimming. (Water motif) (I laughed when I thought it so I had to add it) anyways. Natural selection. I was just thinking like. My brain is fucked. If you put my brain into any other body in any other place in any other situation they would still be depressed. I have a chemical imbalance like it’s just fucked to begin with. So then you have to be like okay so if I don’t go on meds. I can’t do anything. I’m literally like. I just rot away and do nothing when I’m depressed. But when I was like 11/12 the depression hit hard as fuck and I don’t remember when I got put on meds the first time but I think I was 14 or 15. Well. Wait. I did take a liquid dose of an antipsychotic when I was 13 because I couldn’t take pills (still hate taking pills). I forgot about that until just this moment. That was a ROUGH time in my life. And I just. Fully forgot about it. Okay. Ignoring that it’s been like six years since I first started seeing a therapist oh my god seven years since ***** i don’t even want to have a tag for him lol ignoring it !!!! Ignoring it !!!! Ignoring it !!! Not thinking about it !!! 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨 ignoring it. Okay. I forgot what my point was. I think my point was I should’ve been dead years ago if meds didn’t exist and yet I still have this cycle of taking them taking them then not taking them and now I’m on a taking them cycle but like what is wrong with me !!! Oh yeah the chemical imbalance and then add some traumatic shit too !! Ughhhh!!!! BRAINS ARE SO LOUD. I want to sleep.

[elizabeth-mitchells]

Sam Fraser Has a Good Day

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson Characters: Samantha "Sam" Fraser (Fear Street), Deena Johnson Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Not Canon Compliant, Everyone Is Alive, Nightmares, Breakfast, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Napping, Dancing, Late Night Conversations, Making Out, Kissing, Fluff without Plot, Domestic Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluff, literally what the title says Words: 2401

In the span of a couple of days, Sam Fraser was: in a car crash, chased by several undead killers, used as bait, almost overdosed, drowned, possessed, tied up in the trunk of a car, hit in the head several times... and somehow she survived.

She deserves a good day. She deserves to: stay in her girlfriend's house and steal her sweaters, sleep until noon, have a good breakfast, eat jello in peace, get clean bandages, play video games, eat ice cream, take a nap, dance to her favorite songs, go on a late-night drive for cheeseburgers, and cuddle and kiss her girlfriend the entire day.

Sam wakes up startled, as usual. She is gasping for air and sitting up hastily. Was she having a nightmare? Is she stepping into a nightmare now? Because she can tell she’s wearing one of Deena’s t-shirts. But what if her mom sees her? Is she going to catch her? Should she start running from something, or keep herself from running toward something? 

“Sam?”

That soft voice is the one that breaks the spell.

“Deena,” Sam sighs. 

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Deena whispers, tentatively wrapping her arms around her girlfriend. Instantly, she feels Sam relax in her embrace.

“Sorry,” Sam mumbles, tucking her face on the crook of Deena’s neck. “Just a nightmare.”

“I got you,” Deena says softly. She places a kiss on Sam’s forehead and carefully guides them to lay down again. “It’s early. Why don’t you go back to sleep?” Deena asks, realizing right after that Sam fell asleep before answering at all.

--

A couple of hours later, Sam wakes up again. This time there are no nightmares, no screams of terror caught in her throat, no reaching out blindly for air or a weapon. She wakes up slowly, clutching the heavy blanket that covers her body, yawning without restrain, and eventually opening her eyes slowly. The first thing she does is look for her girlfriend, and she finds her sitting at the foot of the bed, sketching on a notebook with an endearing frown of concentration on her face.

“Good morning,” Sam says through a new yawn.

“Well,” Deena smirks fondly at her, “it is closer to noon now, but good morning to you too, baby.”

“What? Noon?” Sam frowns and attempts to rub the sleep off her eyes. “Since when do I sleep longer than you?” Sam asks, and puts on a pout on her lips for her next question, “And why are you so far away?”

Deena chuckles affectionately at her and puts away her pencil and notebook. She crawls back to her girlfriend and playfully flops down beside her. “Hey,” Deena greets her with her signature raspy tone. She receives a dreamy “hi” and a soft peck on the lips in response. Afterward, she explains, “To answer your question, I just thought you deserved a day to sleep in.” When Sam gives her a look of pleased surprise, Deena adds, “In fact, I think you’ve earned a full day, just for you, to rest and enjoy.”

“Deena, you don’t have to do that,” Sam attempts to protest, right before her girlfriend interrupts her with a kiss that turns into two, and three, and four, and soon enough they simply lose count.

--

Deena’s plans encounter an obstacle as soon as they manage to leave the comfort of her room to go make breakfast. Sam was fresh out of the shower, wearing one of Deena’s t-shirts this time. Deena barely gets to open the fridge before Sam tries to intervene with a soft-spoken, “Let me.” It’s safe to say that Deena puts up quite a fight, though.

“I just wanted to take care of you for one day, okay?” She insists. “You fucking deserve it.”

“That’s sweet,” Sam replies, feeling absolutely endeared. She leans in and places a kiss on Deena’s forehead, and Deena tries and fails to keep up her frown. “Listen, I appreciate it, and I love you for it, okay?” Sam says, giving Deena’s lips a small kiss. “But consider this. One, you already took care of me at my worst. Two, a perfect day, for me, means that you get to enjoy it too, and I get to take care of you too, got it? And three… do you really want to burn my breakfast on my special day?”

Sam attempted to quickly kiss Deena’s cheek and run away, but the brunette was quick enough to reach out and take her in her arms, ticking her in revenge for the not-unfounded critique of her culinary skills.

--

After their meal, the two girls make their way to the living room’s couch, where they are free to cuddle and exchange lazy kisses for as long as they could possibly want. Eventually, though, Deena finds the strength to pull away long enough to have an actual conversation.

“So, while you were sleeping, Kate and Simon stopped by,” Deena says. “Everyone feels kind of bad about you, you know, getting possessed and shit.” Deena pauses with a grimace, not proud of her choice of words, but Sam quickly kisses her cheek to urge her to go on. Deena begrudgingly stands up from the couch, to look for a certain bag, and explains, “Josh, oh so generously, gave us the gift of privacy and he is staying the fuck away from home for the day. He’s sleeping at Simon’s house. Also, he says you can play his video games, if you want. And… Kate and Simon brought all this.”

Deena drops a bag from the Grab N’ Bag on the couch and Sam eagerly looks through its contents. She gasps, “Finally!” And pulls out one of many packets of jello. 

Deena’s love-sick laugh spills right out of her lips. “You’re adorable,” Deena says before kissing the top of Sam’s head and climbing back to the couch beside her. “There’s also popcorn, chips, ice cream is in the fridge, a couple of your favorite movies that I think were yours in the first place and they’re just returning, and a happy birthday card because they don’t exactly make cards for the shit we’ve lived,” Deena explains, content to watch her girlfriend smile and nod happily while enjoying her jello. Then she clears her throat and not so contentedly adds, “We also have a bunch of uh, fresh bandages and stuff.”

The two girls exchange a look and understand exactly what this means.

--

“This is not what I had in mind when I planned to give you a perfect day,” Deena says. She is sitting on the bathroom counter without a shirt on while Sam gives the final touches to the fresh bandage on Deena’s stomach. At the beginning, her hands were shaking with guilt, and fear, but she quickly got them under control and lovingly worked on the healing wound that a different version of herself caused.

“I told you,” Sam insists without looking away from her work. “I also want to take care of you, you know?” She is standing there without her shirt on, with an equally fresh bandage on her back.

When Sam iss done, Deena gently grabs her hands and moves them up to her lips to kiss them sweetly. “Thank you,” she whispers.

Sam turns breathless at the gesture. She feels butterflies in her stomach and decides to tell Deena how much she’s enjoying her day. Speechless as she is though, Sam only thinks to lean forward and connect their lips, determined to kiss her girlfriend until they lose track of time.

--

Some time later, Sam finds herself comfortably seated on her girlfriend’s lap, wearing her sweater again, and biting her lip in great concentration as she tries to succeed at one of Josh’s video games.

“You nerd, I can’t believe you’re into this,” Deena chuckles fondly behind her.

“Hush, I almost got it,” Sam mumbled.

As much as Deena wants Sam to win whatever game that is, she thinks it would be a crime to hold herself back in a position as convenient as this one. So she moves Sam’s blonde hair out of the way and starts placing feather-light kisses on her neck. At first, Sam tries to ignore her. Then, she squirms just a little. After a very effective bite from Deena, a small whimper escapes from Sam’s lips.

“Tell me,” Deena starts saying with a seductive whisper. “Do the other cheerleaders know you’re secretly a dork?”

That finally gets Sam to stop the game and turn around with a gasp. “Deena!” she protests, although she’s laughing. And she crashes her lips together. She would hate to let Deena win so easily, but she feels much more like a winner in this situation.

--

Sometime in the afternoon, Sam wakes up on the couch with her head on Deena’s chest. She’s so perfectly comfortable and warm and safe, that she starts to feel suspicious. She didn’t even have a bad dream at all. She starts to fearfully consider this might be nothing but a dream about to turn into a nightmare, but then she moves her head up to look at her girlfriend and her worries vanish all at once. Deena is still asleep, she’s frowning a little and her lips are slightly parted as she adorably mumbles in her sleep. The feeling of love and adoration in Sam’s chest is so strong and so real that she doesn’t have any doubt this has to be her reality. 

After all the pain, the fear, and the danger of it all, this is real, and they earned it. It’s not even just about those days of extreme violence when they ended the curse, it’s even bigger than that. It’s a moment of well-earned peace and happiness that’s been more than three hundred years in the making. They have been fighting for this moment their entire lives, and they were so close to losing hope forever, but they made it. Deena was right, they fucking deserve it.

So, Sam makes a couple of decisions. First, she decides it’s best if they go one day without watching a horror movie. As much as she loves them, they have had enough horror for a while. And two, she decides that continuing her nap is the perfect way to honor Deena’s wish of giving her a perfect day. She gets comfortable again on top of her girlfriend and drifts back to sleep.

--

Not too long later, Sam and Deena are in the middle of a tube of ice cream and halfway through watching Grease. Well, Deena is watching the movie. Sam is a little more focused on the extremely amusing sight of Deena trying to avoid smiling at the movie.

“Oh my God, you love it,” Sam keeps giggling whenever Deena slips up and grins at the movie on the television screen.

“No, I fucking don’t,” Deena rolls her eyes, makes no move to quit the movie, and adds through gritted teeth, “I just acknowledge that it’s a classic.”

Her words only make Sam smile even brighter as she continues to take spoonfuls of ice cream and marvel at the sight of her girlfriend.

--

A perfect day, of course, wouldn’t be complete without listening to the mixtape Deena made for Sam, and dancing in the middle of her bedroom without a care in the world.

Sam is the one that starts dancing, swinging her arms around, not very gracefully. And Deena shakes her head at her with extreme fondness. “You are a weirdo, Sam Fraser,” she says, making her girlfriend laugh, completely unaffected by the comment.

“Dance with me,” Sam replies with a carefree grin on her face. She steps forward and pulls on Deena’s arms until she convinces her to dance with her.

As usual, Deena tries to put up a fight that she loses as soon as she stares into precious blue eyes. There’s not a thing she wouldn’t do for Sam. They already had to do the most extreme things for each other. How could she refuse her girlfriend a dance?

It’s a perfect evening to a perfect day. The two of them dance to their favorite songs, laugh wholeheartedly, kiss without holding back, jump and spin and fall in each other's arms again and again, as if falling in love all over with every new song.

--

As comfortable as it would be to stay home for the last few hours of the day, the perfect dinner to complete the day means getting cheeseburgers. Not even Deena complains about the idea. After all, she always loved driving around town with Sam in the passenger seat, humming along to the songs on her mixtape, her blonde hair glowing under the streetlights they passed, completely comfortable silence between them, without a destination in mind. 

They park the car at a familiar spot. They eat their cheeseburgers, playfully feed fries to each other, and have a perfectly good time. Conversation flows easily between them, reminiscing of old memories or sharing dreams of a bright future that starts to feel more possible than ever before.

When Sam starts yawning, Deena is quick to point out, “You’re sleepy.”

“Am not,” Sam scoffs in that very particular way that tells Deena her girlfriend is blatantly lying.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Fraser. How rude,” Deena teases her.

Sam giggles happily in response. She can’t deny she’s looking forward to returning home to Deena’s bed, but she genuinely loves to put up a fight against her girlfriend, no matter how often she ends up losing. 

“I’m very awake,” Sam insists, a knowing look on her face because she can easily predict Deena’s answer.

“Prove it,” Deena says.

Even before she’s done saying the words, Sam is leaning in to kiss her. They kiss, again and again, until Sam whispers against Deena’s lips, “Take me home.”

--

It’s well past midnight when Sam and Deena finally agree that even perfect days must come to an end. They lie in Deena’s bed, facing each other, legs tangled together, often exchanging kisses or sweet words that only exist in that vulnerable space between them.

“Thank you,” Sam whispers. She pushes a stray brown curl behind Deena’s ear, then her hand rests for a moment there on Deena’s cheek, her thumb lovingly caressing her skin.

“I told you,” Deena replies in an equally hushed tone even though they have the entire house for themselves. “You deserve it,” she adds, then she turns her head just enough to place a small kiss to the inside of Sam’s wrist, making the blonde smile timidly.

“I’m not talking about today,” Sam says. She considers explaining that she means she’s saying thank you for absolutely every moment they spent together since they met, but…

“I know,” Deena says. Her smile widens and she adds, “Just so you know, I also enjoyed today, a lot. So thank you too.”

Sam replies with a sweet kiss to Deena’s lips. Then the two of them cuddle closer and slowly, peacefully, happily drift off to a good and restful night of sleep.

[ayakashiramblings]

Dawn and Twilight’s Social Media Accounts

Kuya

@NevermoreButSnore.

1230 followers.

Yes, I copied Edgar Allan Poe. Yes, I’m not sorry about the rhyme. Or calling him out. 

Not that he really cares.

Insists that he is a headcanon creator on Twitter 

Everyone who follows him knows that he is lying. 

If we really had to classify him as a writer, it would one who posts those way-too-accurate posts about writers complaining about writing. 

Like the notebook hoarding one. Not that anyone here in the fandom is guilty of that, haha... haha... ha.

Ironically is one of the more popular ones out of the whole group. 

His flat responses and laziness are way too prominent to NOT be noticed. 

If you actually tentatively sneak into his DMs though, for writing tips, he will patiently listen and... rather bluntly advise you. 

It’s still advice though and is always the type to check out and reblog any short fanfics.

It just has to be weird, sporadic hours because he is the type to fall asleep with the phone on his face. 

Koga Kitamikado

1230 followers.

@CapitalKayKay

Listen, there is a reason why a lot of successful businesses chose Instagram as their social media so Koga is no exception. 

What makes his account stand out, as you can see from his rather cheeky username, is that he is willing to be an open book. 

So he isn’t constantly shoving down any products he is sponsoring or whatever piece he is endorsing. 

It’s more of genuinely wanting to hang out and explore what the world has to offer. 

Whenever he posts a picture of the gang together, he’s the one tagging all of them, even the ones with hard usernames.

And there’s always a nice comment thanking whoever hosted the fun time or being appreciative of the area and the locals.

It helps that he has a sense of humour so the memes are always just the right amount of teasing but nothing too bad that will deter potential clients.

Because of his down-to-earth nature, he reels everyone in.

Uses the space to invite everyone following him on any celebration/casual outing.

The thing is... he has a lot of followers.

So... good luck.

Aoi

1150 followers.

@DeredArtTooTsun

Look, even he knows he is a Tsundere. It’s a small victory getting him to acknowledge that, let alone use it to brand himself here.

But god, he’s the man I’m most jealous of on Tumblr.

PERFECT BULLET JOURNALS AND SKETCHES.

Got the spreads that literally define ‘aesthetic’, a perfect lineup of art materials even with pencils that have their numbers faded, and somehow, the emotions can pass through the paper and screen.

Even does tutorials on perspectives, positions with cute annotations. Just don’t praise them for being adorable though and focus on improving your skills, dummy.

Ironically though, it’s his mindless vents that get the most number of notes.

It helps that the pics include him, a very cute... I mean... manly boy screaming at very, very hot men.

A bit baffled but whatever it takes to get commissions. 

That’s right, he takes them. At least there is a back-up option should the restaurant ever go out of business. 

Spoiler Alert: Still doesn’t get paid as much. People, have you seen the number of talented artists here? Aoi might be in the rankings but it’s still hard attracting business.

Support your fandom artists, everyone!

Ginnojo

1000 followers. Just nice.

Ginnojoz

Poor grandpa didn’t intend to put that extra ‘z’ letter, it was a typo because scales don’t get along with haptic touch. 

And unfortunately, doesn’t understand how to change it. 

Once, he was huge on Vine before it died. The end of an era that he has to witness again. RIP.

Gin-Gin, it is RIGHT. THERE.

Expect to find his super short self-defence videos and Book Club Readings on YouTube.

Girls actually appreciate his instructions and attempts to provide help even if they are alone. 

He did try to respond to the nice ones and actually succeeds. 

It’s always easier getting to know the language of women when you don’t really see/touch them.

A deep baritone is perfect for some sexy excerpt of a historical novel... 

Until he corrects the setting.

In fact, he sometimes rage-quits and rewrites it. 

Unlike Kuya, him doing those established ideas actually catches on. 

Yura and Gaku

1500 followers.

MelodyandTheBeat. 

... Tik-tokers. Tik-Tok people? 

WTH do you call them?

As you can see, they are the most popular since it’s combined stardom.

Look, their covers and music mixes are beautiful.

They always have their own version that somehow combines traditional Japanese music... with k-pop.

And of course, food porn. 

Just be grateful there isn’t that awful squelching sound you hear when you consume jelly or the breaking of chilli seeds. 

Listen, I usually separate them because it’s never nice to be grouped as having the same activity as your twin. 

But in this case, being both equally beautiful AND talented sells their uploads. 

Even the cringy ones made because Yura is such a Luddite. 

Like just turning his head and being amazed his hair can turn so many colours, being impressed with each tilt until he gets to a black shade. 

Suddenly hurls the phone away. Gee, wonder why? Guess black isn’t the new... black for him?

Gaku sometimes even introduces new filters he created based on Yura’s random requests that strangely get circulated on the site. 

Oji

550 followers all know Oji-Sanz

Unlike Ginnojo, he deliberately adds the ‘z’ letter to sound cool.

You wanna know what’s worse? 

He actually uses Facebook. 

Aoi decides to give up on him. Nobody blames the poor student.

It’s apparently some old form of social media? Never used it, no sirree. 

Always changing his relationship status but at the end of the day, he’s single and ready... 

To post about all the lovely ladies destined to enter his restaurant. 

He thinks it’s great publicity. 

It really isn’t but one good thing about Oji is he includes EVERYONE.

This man respects his customers and always helps advertise their wares, especially if their connections lead to more resources. 

And less grocery shopping on his part.

Does post the recipes he and Aoi created but will never use because the Milk Hall had a certain style to follow.

Officially makes Aoi his son... on Facebook at least. 

Aoi now tolerates the account. 

Barely. 

Toichiro Yuri

WhatheMeSay has 1231 followers! 

In your face @CapitalKayKay and @NevermorebutSnore!!

You know, I’m so glad that there aren’t any users with those names because I’d be so scared of accidentally tagging them.

Also, geddit? Because... What the fox say? 

Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding... yeah, I’ll stop.

Pinterest Guy. And actually does spend on his ‘hobby’ to show off to everyone.

It does boost you and your father’s sales so there is nothing to complain about. 

His boards are always alliterated just to sound super catchy and it works so long as he gets the right emoji. 

Kabuki plays better be promoted or else.

Filled with candid pictures of his victims all taken at different angles you didn’t know were possible and in varying degrees of hilariously misunderstood positions.

He even supplies a donation link, heavily leveraged by his followers, since there are incentives tied to it like early access.

A bit suspicious the photos look like cropped out parts from Koga’s posts and some of the text resembles Kuya’s... er... wisdom?

He takes an unholy amount of selfies when he thinks no one is looking and so they are always surprised upon finding them on the Selfie Board. 

There is a locked board that no one can access, even his followers who are his comrades in real life. 

It’s actually just one picture in there. 

It’s you smiling and giggling at a joke of his. Not even you know it’s been taken. Guess he is as soft as his fur, eh? He better come out soon or else.

Kuro

Kuroruohtumbling

Ginnojo is unfortunately just old enough to have grown up with Scooby-Doo to understand the reference.

Snapchat, like a snapping snake! Hiss!

Unironically loves the puppy face.

Ok, but the glimpses of his stunts help show snippets of the circus life. 

He and his whole troupe family will even don costumes best suited for certain filters.

Sometimes ropes in Ginnojo... and by sometimes, I mean enough for everyone to start wondering if the stoic man is part of the act. 

To be fair, he randomly hugs people and ranks them here.

You, of course, were number 1. 

Now, if only he didn’t use the bloody song to announce it but you forgive him.

Maybe even risks revealing his ayakashi form before deleting the message to you.

Loves making international fans and learning various languages through each post, sort of like flashcards but animated and more fun!

And with 1200 followers, he might become a polyglot like Koga.

Shizuki 

Everyone bans him from creating one. 

Because they know the power of his roasts is too great. 

Little do they know he goes undercover. 

Underground.

And under their noses.

That’s right. His rant town on... MySpace. 

Unapologetically uses a good chunk of his salary from serving the House of Yuri just to get nifty themes that help with the whole burning process. 

Look, there’s a reason he and Oji are friends. 

This is why. 

Their taste in women seems fine but we really have got to do something about their affinity towards DEAD PLACES.

To be fair, he made the whole thing drunk but that doesn’t mean he should maintain it SOBER.

He just feels that it is a waste of space if he doesn’t utilize it. 

And it also becomes kind of cathartic. From the intrusive hugs to his master and Sir Gaku irking each other to no end, he needs it. 

Zero followers... but only because it’s super private. 

It becomes 1 the moment you jokingly create an account. 

[wwounu]

Still in shock, you continue to ask Seokmin questions ever since he has taken you upstairs to his comfy studio, asking you to take a seat as he takes a small break, cleaning the room.

“How long have you been doing this again?”

“Two or three years?” Seokmin replies, leaning more to a question than a statement. “Something like that.”

“Oh cool. Pretty long then.”

“Yep, it’s crazy thinking about it… Really crazy…”

“Aren’t there any clients after me?”

“Nope. My shift would be over right now since I usually work at the dog cafe this time, but I called in that I was sick so shush don’t tell anyone.”

The male lifts a finger to his lips, his lips forming a curl.

“So!” He claps his hands after your giggle. “You can get as much as you’d like. We can be here all night — What would you like to have?”

He’s now seated, in the middle of putting his gloves as you speak. He swivels in his chair to get a plain book and pen, opening to a clean page.

You awkwardly begin, “Uh… I’d like something simple — and hidden — so no one can notice it upon first glance.”

“I get you, ‘small and simple’.” Seokmin jots down his words in the book. “Anything else?”

“I’d like it to be a flower.”

“Ah, of course! Anything in particular?”

“A cherry blossom.” You cringe once saying it aloud. “I must sound basic right now, but I’d like to keep it minimalistic. Maybe not so much because I want there to be detail, but I think the blossoms should be the focal point of it all, while they’re growing scattered on the branch…”

Not knowing why, your voice says away at the end, watching Seokmin’s hand move left to right.

“So like this?”

He holds up his notebook, showing an ideal sketch of the tattoo you imagined perfectly, and you hum in agreement. “Damn, you really get me.”

“I guess I do.” The man grins. “That would look great on the ankle I think. It’ll sting a bit, are you ready for it? You can choose anywhere else if you want.”

“No I’m good with your decision, I trust you.”

Seokmin pauses at your final words, almost zoning out, but he eventually comes back on earth and gets himself started. “Attagirl!” He laughs, getting straight to work

A few minutes in and the silence is unbearable for you. You didn’t want to distract Seokmin either, but you quietly say, “Can I talk while you work? I don’t want to ruin your focus or anything.”

Seokmin hums. “Feel free too. I love talking to clients about anything — And you as my client makes it even better.”

“What made you want to start doing all of this?”

“It came out of nowhere, really. Soonyoung was busy doing thumbnails for a drawing of his, I think it was a back tattoo? For one of his characters, and I would it pretty cool, asked if I could contribute to some ideas. I think he only told me to go for it because he couldn’t care less.”

“And then?”

“I get to work too and after a few songs yada yada, I show him my ideas and stupidly start talking about the details I included. It was rushed but I don’t think Soonyoung realised that — You should’ve seen his face! I felt intimidated and proud. Next thing you know it, he tells me I’m really good and that I should be a tattoo artist. And now look at me! A very stupid story, but it’s close to my heart.”

“Cool! What do you prefer to do on people?”

“I’m cool with anything but I love doing complex tattoos — people are always satisfied when I do them, it feels really great helping them. But when it comes to myself, I prefer something uncomplicated.”

“Hm, why?”

The male snorts, rubbing his nose shyly. “Mainly just the backlash and looks from everyone… Plus I don’t think big, bold tattoos would look great on a guy like me-“ He’s stopped by the slip of your laugh, which is caught on by Seokmin too.

“Don’t your friends know about this? That you do this for a living?”

In reply the male chuckles. “Well… At first they didn’t, I wasn’t vocal about it and everyone already knew about my jobs with dogs. I think hearing about me being a tattooist would freak them out…”

“Tell me about it!”

“On one night my four friends were gathered somewhere near the parlour to hang out — at the time a friend was new to the city so they brought him there often to familiarise himself as the others were regulars…”

“My friend — Wonwoo; the new one back then — told me that he heard my laugh a bit away from the parlour and ‘knew my laugh but didnt at the same time’. He gets closer to the studio, and I don’t realise his presence, and he sees me laughing with some guys I’m close to while adding another tattoo onto his sleeve of ink…”

“With someone like Wonwoo, he doesn’t look like the strongest man but never underestimate him…” Seokmin shudders, flashbacks in his mind. “Um anyway, he has really bad eyesight and was too lazy to step into the parlour so late at night, but he apparently mistook me as Soonyoung because of our smilier hairstyles and laugh. Plus, it’d make sense for Soonyoung since the latter’s an artist, but even Wonwoo knew that Soonyoung wouldn’t do something like that at all…”

“At that exact moment, Soonyoung texts Wonwoo asking him to convince Minghao — Our model friend — to be his model, which didn’t add up for Wonwoo, and it was by the time Vernon yells out his name, wondering why he’s there, and I happen to hear it, seeing the two of them stare at each other Wonwoo stares at me, followed by Vernon, before yelling out my name in shock...”

“Apparently I’m ‘way too precious for that’ which is why they were all in disbelief. Only Joshua and Soonyoung knew about it before the accident, and apparently Jihoon too since he wasn’t phased by it.”

“I wouldn’t blame them,” You agree, smiling. Seokmin pouts but eventually smiles afterwards. “So have your friends asked you to do tattoos for them?”

“Here and there. Minghao asked me to do an infinity dragon for him in return of a favour. Other times it would be dumb tattoos my friends would want and I’d have to refuse the offer… Especially when it’s Soonyoung!”

Now adding the colour — and mainly because you had stopped distracting Seokmin from your non-stop chattering — you feel the pain come through on your ankle.

You’ve tried so hard not to feel the pain (as well as kick your foot due to how sensitive that area was), but the male puts you at ease, hushing you and telling you how good you’re doing.

A few more moments, chatting to Seokmin here and there, and you finally hear the “Ta-da!” From the latter.

“How does it look?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Grinning, Seokmin grants you to sit and passes you a mirror, seeing the tattoo more clearly. “So…?”

“I don’t know what to say-“ You stammer, “It looks amazing! You’re amazing Seok’!”

“Ah, don’t flatter me…” He huffs, resisting his smile. “I’m just happy you like it. Oh, but I need to give you some heads up before you can enjoy your tattoo.”

You nod, letting Seokmin protect the tattoo with a bandage, watching him do the process before he sits back down again, cleaning his studio once again.

“Don’t take the bandage off after a day. Take extra care with it, sometimes the ink takes a while to settle, so no long showers or baths, and keep the tattoo dry — It’s better to gently wash over it frequently, but don’t go crazy with it though…”

“Got it. What else?”

“Do be aware that it will itch, so I beg you not to scratch it since it’s the ankle and that’ll definitely do a thing or two to you. It’ll be hard but I believe in you! Also, use moisturisers too. Do this for two to four weeks and you’ll be all set!”

You hug the male, thanking him countless of times before you let go. You couldn’t thank Seokmin enough. After letting go, you pay for the tattoo and he asks you to stay around as he cleans up the parlour.

What ended up feeling like an hour suddenly turned into six, with the sun beaming its golden hour and the streets filling with more people while you converse with Seokmin, listening to his oddly fascinating dog walking stories.

“What other tattoos do you have? I’m kinda curious now.” Casually, you look outside the window and notice the sky gradually turn darker. When you turn back to look at the male, he scares you another time as to how close he was. “I swear you need to stop scaring me like that.”

“Sorry!” He chirps, humming a little at the end. “Should I tell them in order?”

“Alright,”

He shows you each inked drawing one by one.

The first tattoo was one you’ve already seen. An inked outline of a sunflower, running down his inner left bicep. As it was his first, he was scared what the outcome of his tattoo would be, since the what ifs wondered in his head and that a mistake will be made, yet things went the opposite for him — in a good way — and the old man who tattooed him became somewhat of a father to him as he was desiring to become a tattoo artist.

The second, a tiny doodle of a puppy’s slanted eyes, upside-down triangle nose and ears shaped in an ‘M’. That was his first self-made tattoo, located on his ankle. And of course it was directed to his unconditional love for puppies. For a first try, it wasn’t that bad — The tattoo was mainly credited to Soonyoung who drew the tiny doodle in the exact location (You had no idea how he managed to draw on his ankle, but you went with it), which Seokmin looked at afterwards and thought ‘This is nice’ and behold the tattoo.

And for credit, he had his friend put his initials — ‘KSY’ — to tattoo it additionally, just to the corner of the tattoo itself.

Thirdly; A constellation. Seokmin had to remove his shirt for this one, which was awkward at first, but the awkwardness was taken away the moment you laid eyes on his shoulder blade to the right hand side. The tattoo didn’t have a special meaning to it, but as it’s Aquarius, he got it as he was one himself (quite obviously).

‘Say yes’ was what you remembered about his fourth tattoo. Just underneath his inked constellation, it was tattooed in a typewriter font. Briefly, he explained that it was a duet he had to with his friend for Jihoon’s project. All he said was that it hit home, which you thought he was going to continue, but he fell silent for a few beats and his shirt back on.

“Finally,” He heaves, the mood feeling heavier than usual, “this.”

He lifts up his left arm, stretching it out to move his sleeve, revealing the small tattoo you had a glimpse on his wrist.

“It’s a — uh — lock. It’s really small, you can’t really see it. I did it myself. It-“ All of his words sounds disjointed, panicked, “It means a lot.”

With the vague description, he didn’t look like he wanted to go further, and it was only for you to respect that. If it meant a lot, then it’ll take time for him to tell you. One day, maybe, one day.

He acts more quiet now, with less words and less liveliness in him. It was a long day for the both of you, and you didn’t want it to end on a bad note.

Fiddling with his hands, Seokmin doesn’t acknowledge your head weighing on his shoulder.

“Sing me a song Seokmin.”

“A song? My singing isn’t that great…”

“Either way — I like your voice, I want to hear it.”

“But…”

“Just sing to me, I won’t judge, you have a pretty voice. ‘If I’m good at it, I shouldn’t hide it’,” You mimic his words, choking a laugh out of him.

He silent for another moment, then begins to softly sing the lyrics to Half Moon to you, going falsetto when he reaches parts where it would be more pronounced at, and adding a breathiness to his singing. To you, it felt like you were on the moon — lost in space — because of his singing alone.

And your eyes begin to get heavier, Seokmin’s voice lulling you to sleep. You did it; You made the day end well. And for you and Seokmin, neither of you wanted to ruin it.

OPPOSITES ATTRACT PART TEN — Tattoo Artist!Seokmin x Florist!Reader

finally back to updating! (hopefully...)

one • two • three • four • five • six • seven • eight • nine • ten • eleven

masterlist

[novantinuum]

Together in Wanting

Read on AO3, comments and kudos there appreciated

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: T

Words: 2700~

Pairings: Fiddauthor

Story Summary: Ford overanalyzes every aspect of his strengthening crush on his roommate, and Fiddleford finally makes a move. (Content warning for some brief internalized homophobia.)

Very much inspired by an early RP with @the-ill-doctor, and my personal envisioning of how Ford and Fiddleford initially got together in our RP stuff. No context of that is needed to enjoy this, though. :D 

It only took the better part of a semester for thoughts of Fiddleford to become hopelessly and inseparably entangled within his mind. Like a single, minuscule spot of ink spilled on thick parchment— the property of capillarity pulling it through each and every layer, pigment spreading so deep one might never hope to separate the two again— whatever bewitching influence the man had unknowingly cast on him had grown and grown and created...

He shifted restlessly under his sheets, stealing away what were likely the last possible shreds of warmth his ratty bedding had to offer.  

Well...

It certainly created something new, Ford thought, anxiety buzzing deep through his bones. Something that wasn’t supposed to happen, not to him, not here. And yet, ignoring every hesitant voice that echoed at his peripherals instructing— no, demanding— that he come to his senses least trouble find him, something beautiful. Truth be told, he’d never experienced anything like this before, this... level of inexplicable attachment to another person. It was as intoxicating as it was infuriating. Here he stood, bottom of the pecking order— a college freshman, and one who didn’t have a lick of spare time to dedicate to paltry, fanciful matters such as these— and he just had to choose to be sweet on his own one-and-a-half-year older roommate!

Well, not that he had any choice in the matter. If it were up to choice, he’d probably have jumped ship that fated day he noticed all his thought patterns inevitably looping back around to that warm hearted, gregarious, confidence-for-miles southern genius. With every nervous flutter he felt within, it was almost maddening. Almost, if not for the payoff he received whenever he responded to his puns with an even dorkier one (Hey Fidds, what kind of ghosts haunt the chemistry lab? Methylated spirits) and his roommate’s laugh rang out loud and free.

Dear god, he loved the sound of his laugh. The breathy twang of his voice as he sang along with his banjo, as off key as it was. Hah, and to think he once scorned all of Fiddleford’s southern quirks...! What changed his mind? What became different in the four months they’d coexisted together, since that first day when Ford foolishly almost wrote him off as a brainless southern hick?

Oh, he remembered that day so vividly he could nearly recount the exact emotions that filtered through his being at every turn. When he first met Fiddleford Hadron McGucket, he hated him. He was utterly furious, because he was so low strung about everything, and so folksy, and taking up space in what was supposed to be his single dorm, his sanctuary from the rest of the world, but thanks to a housing mishap became sanctuary to two. He fell right into the insidious trap of judging him by mere appearance, right into blatant hypocrisy. The guilt he still felt for that was palpable, pressing down upon him like lead. Hopefully one day he’d find the right moment to apologize.

Still, it was all too unimaginable.

How could he possibly have known then what he knew now? That he’d fudge his first set of final exams and receive a few A minuses because he, Stanford F. Pines, couldn’t stop thinking about a man? Or that he’d be friends with him to begin with, after bemoaning over him ceaselessly to Ma that first week on the phone? What if he explored this the way he would with one of his experiments, conducted an unbiased scientific query focused on the origin of human romantic interactions within the temporal lobe of the brain? Could he ever pinpoint the moment, the precise variable, that sent that first ripple of nervous energy through his chest? Was it the day Fidds commented on a sketch of his DD&MD character and called them ruggedly handsome, not knowing that Ford based this elven sorcerer on himself? (Or did he know??) Maybe it was the first time he casually rest a hand on his shoulder— an action likely as natural as anything to someone from the tactile South, but entirely foreign to him. Or perhaps it was when they found a common interest in tinkering and stayed up until three am building an alarm clock Rube Goldberg would be proud of out of a busted toaster, some notebook spirals they salvaged from the trash, and an oven mitt?

How many hypotheses could he forge?

He shivered in the bitter January chill, his blankets no longer appropriate protection from the elements. He tilt his neck to catch a glimpse of his roommate, eyes squeezed closed and breathing evenly in the bed across the small dorm. The distance between them was only a few feet at most, but it might as well have been impenetrable. Ford sighed wearily, laying limp on his back, as if the weight of a loss he hadn’t yet experienced had already settled upon him.

Who was he kidding? All these thoughts he’d let enrapture his mind, these idle fantasies of what could be? Foolish. Shameful, that deep, terrified part of him whispered. For a number of reasons.

Reason one, his subconscious monotonously supplied once again. Reason one is that you’re not here at this dead-end school to entangle yourself in the lives of others. You’re here to prove your worth to your family and to academia, however you can. Reason two. He’s your roommate for the rest of the year. If you make a move, and you botch this up, life will become painfully difficult.

Reason three.

Reason three was most of his worries, and why he still hesitated to make any sort of advances. He already knew Fiddleford was... well, queer, as many of the man’s friends oft referred to themselves. But Ford? He wasn’t sure if... he never... How would he even...

True, he never felt any strong inclination towards the so-called ‘fairer sex’ as a kid. Even whatever throwaway crush he had on Cathy Crenshaw in the second grade seemed more manufactured than real, since every facet of society he’d encountered aimed to press upon him the concept of man and woman, groom and wife. But if he’d never experienced anything... romantically... inclined in the first place, then how on earth can he know for sure if that’s what this is? In the end, however, he supposed it wouldn’t be changing much about the way people saw him either way. He was already a poor, Jewish Jersey kid from a mixed family with a rare genetic mutation, why the hell not add ‘gay’ to the mix?

The minutes ticked on into endless oblivion, the only noticeable sound except for the low wind whistling at their window and the drunk laughter of those rowdy frat boys a few doors down. He nestled even further under his blankets, settling so they pulled all the way up to his chin.

He desperately wished he were braver. Truth be told, even if he could amass the courage, he didn’t know if Fiddleford would be interested. Again, his roommate was one and a half years older. They were both adults, sure, but was that still too weird? Would it be a deal breaker? At the very least, he counted himself forever lucky to have him as a friend and confidant, no matter what happened (or didn’t happen) between them. No matter what doubts assailed his thoughts, he would cherish each second he could get with him: Those few stolen moments on campus where Fidds would find him after class and they’d circle around the quad talking about DD&MD or the Apollo missions or that new academic journal on string theory Ford recently found for what felt like hours. Unique instances like last Friday, when they grabbed a bite to eat off campus together at Fidds’ impromptu request. Lazy evenings spent in the dorm not doing anything in particular, just progressing on coursework or personal projects, but always in each other’s welcomed company. Every bit of winter break, when Fiddleford kindly invited him to stay with his family in Tennessee so he didn’t have to hole up in the frigid dorms or return home.

He couldn’t help the hopeless, stupid smile that teased at his lips, his cheeks almost hurting from how wide it ran. See, and this was precisely why his feelings for Fiddleford couldn’t be downplayed as mere friendship or camaraderie! He never got this way thinking about his other DD&MD mates. Still, it was late, he was cold... letting his mind replay the same broken record all night long wouldn’t do him any favors. He yawned, and curled up to conserve as much body heat as possible.

“You still up?” a voice whispered softly from across the dorm.

He froze into a panic. All this time, Fiddleford wasn’t asleep?? Shit, shit, he didn’t notice him staring dazedly at his side of the room the whole time, did he?

“Yeah,” he replied on automatic, instantly regretting not pretending to be deep in slumber.

Fidds turned in his bed so they faced each other, head propped up on his pillow. “It sure is cold, huh.”

“It, ah... It sure is."

“An’ my blanket ain’t helping.”

“Uh, I- I could check if I have an extra?”

He didn’t. But oh, for Fiddleford, he wished he did.

“Y’know... with all that ice outside,” he drawled, “maybe we oughta work together to conserve heat. Mind if I... bunk with you, for the night?”

Never in his life had he been more grateful that he had the freedom to hide his blushing face under the covers. Jesus, Stanford, don’t go falling to pieces just yet.

“Bunk wi- with me?”

“Sure! I reckon that way, we can combine all our bedding and hopefully not freeze ta’ icicles in the middle of night.”

The unexpected proposal left his mind flooded with nothing but formless static, wholly undecided in its path. He... why would... What if they...

“Of course, only if you’re comfortable,” Fiddleford added quickly, and he knew he’d have to give a coherent response soon least he risk coming off as rude.

“I am!” he blurted out. “I mean, I- I’m not opposed. To the idea of it, to us, uh... yes.”

Nailed it.

His roommate grinned. “Be right over, then!”

He watched with a tumultuous mixture of dumbfounded shock (that such a proposition had ever occurred) and eager anticipation (that he would ever want to share a bed in the first place) as the man eagerly bundled up blankets in his arms and traversed across the room to him. While Fidds was taking care of that, he pulled back the corner of his comforter in preparation, as well as scooting himself clear to the wall. Gotta allow him as much space as possible, just in case his reasons for bed sharing weren’t the same as Ford’s reasons for his hands shaking like a leaf in sheer nervousness. Thank goodness he could excuse that away as the bite of the cold.

Fiddleford threw his blankets over the twin sized mattress, and true to form there was an instant increase in warmth. To think he’d nearly forgotten what such comfort felt like! After tucking the blankets in against the far wall— cute, real cute— he climbed in beside him. His long legs brushed against his, meeting with the hem of his sweatpants.

“Here, I can—“ he murmured, shifting his feet to allow him more room. “Is that—?”

“Yeah,” he said, settling in with a soft smile and resting his head on the pillow, nose mere inches from his. “Thanks,” he added, a flash of genuine appreciation in his eyes.

(Misty blue, he noted. Reminded him of the surf.)

Side by side, they lay together in pregnant silence for an unknown duration. Their overlapping heartbeats were the only identifiable sound other than the clock’s ticking, and the never ceasing whistling of the wind. Seems the frat boys, at least, had since gone to sleep.

“Ford...”

“Hmm?”

“You do know I like ya’, right?”

And with that, a jolt of electricity shot through his entire nervous system. His tongue went slack, and Fiddleford spoke again.

“Like, like like you?”

Oh sweet Moses, it was as if his stomach had turned itself inside out- but not in an unpleasant, sick in bed with carbonated water and soda crackers sort of way, not at all. No, rather the odd sensation was light and fluttery. His face felt curiously warm, a welcome change from the frigid conditions he’d suffered in all night up until now. Breathlessly, he tried to splutter out a response.

“Y-you... you mean to say that you—?”

“Was wonderin’ when you’d finally notice? No offense, but your head’s kinda been up in the clouds.”

“I—“

He closed his eyes, steeling his nerves.

“I- really like you, too,” he finally admitted, that fluttery sensation acting up again at declaring it out loud for the first time.

“Oh, we all know,” he said fondly.

His eyes shot open.

“We?"

“What, d’ya think the rest of the crew couldn’t notice? Ford Pines, ‘m sorry ta say you really ain’t as subtle as you think you are, pining away over here.” Fiddleford paused to reach across to his face, and brushed a stray bit of his brown hair behind his ear. He peered thoughtfully into his eyes. “You ain’t subtle, and neither am I, frankly. It’s why I decided to be the first to speak up ‘bout it, ‘cause lord knows it probably wouldn’t‘ve been you.”

“I’d say I resent that, but you’re probably right,” he said with a warm chuckle, already feeling a great deal more confident about the scenario than he did only moments ago.

That wonderful man simply had something about him, something about the upbeat, genuine way he talked, that could put even the most nervous of souls at ease. He couldn’t explain it, not fully, but whenever he was around him he felt inspired to do things he’d never before considered. To take risks, to experience new and better things, to say ‘fuck it’ and sign up for that cryptography elective he desperately wanted to take even though it didn’t apply to his major... To always make the best effort he could to take care of himself, to live striving with purpose regardless of when that purpose feels impossibly distant on the horizon, to laugh daily even when laughter is the last thing he feels he’s humanly capable of...

To fall in love...

“How long has it been,” he asked, suddenly curious, “since you knew?”

“Since I knew...? Knew what? That I liked men? That you had a crush? That- that I also had one?”

“Any of it, really?”

“Hmmm,” Fiddleford thought out loud, tapping his slender finger to his chin. “Well, I figured out I was queer back when I was a kid. Had a crush on this young mailman we used to get ‘round our parts, see. And I knew you had the hots for me ever since I overheard ya’ muttering all sorts of cute things in your sleep.”

A nervous “Heh, heh” was all he could manage in response. He leaned his head ever so slightly closer to him.  

“But me? Well, I s’pose it was... Apollo 12. Back in November. We were watching the launch downstairs, in the lounge, and you... you were just so passionate about it. ‘Bout the whole world ‘round us. All my days an’ I’ve never known anyone so in love with discovery, with askin’ why. Spending time with you’s been one of the best things in my life,” he admitted, blushing slightly.

“Same,” Ford agreed, grinning wildly, his cheeks the same shade of red. “So then, if we both...? What now?”

“For now, we sleep,” he said with a short laugh. “If we stay up any later, not even Cafe Cubano could wake us up in time for lecture, I’m sure."

“Ah, but you doubt the power of my ma’s famous Cafe Cubano.”

He snickered, and then— leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Ford.”

The man rolled over then, a respectful offer of privacy within their already intimate arrangement. Ford beamed, still entirely giddy and awed in light of everything that had happened, dusting his fingers over the skin his lips graced.

“Goodnight...” he wished, his restless form finally finding a sense of deep, encompassing peace.

For tonight, at least, his slumber would be sound and dreamless.

[tamyriasketches-is-addedoc]

Black Cat Bidder: a Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction (club/auction au)

Chapter 2: You can't go back there!

“Marinette! You are amazing girl!” Alya jumped up from her seat to wrap her startled friend in a tight hug. She squealed into her ear as she pressed her body into the petite ravenette and gave her a tight squeeze, “those chocolates where the best surprise ever girl!” Marinette giggled lightly as she pulled herself from the other girls grasp and rubbed her sore shoulders gently. She had been up late the night before hand stitching a floral design along the bodice of the dress she planned on submitting in the next fashion show her class hosted and the way she had to sit hunched over her desk lamp to do it had made her shoulders and upper back stiff and sore from built up pressure.

“I'm glad you liked them.” She chuckled as she adjusted herself in her computer chair and swirled it around to face her friend, “but it's not a big deal I had extra after I helped mamon and papa with the orders.” She noticed a small smear of chocolate on the corner of Alyas mouth as she looked up at her happily glowing face and could not suppress a small snort at the sight.

“What?” Alya returned her snort with a nervous chuckle as the two leaned closer together.

“You got a spot right, there.” Marinette swiped the smear of chocolate off of her lips with her thumb and smiled as she licked it from her smaller digit. They smiled at the gesture and rolled their eyes at the thought of Alyas boyfriend seeing them and what his reaction would be. Marinette turned back around to face her desk then and lifted her pencil only to tap it idly against the half sketched design of a Lolita style dress with deep black lace and neon green ribbon work. Alya settled in her bean bag chair behind her and lifted a magazine to thumb through while she worked. It was a lazy Friday evening for the girls, one that Marinette was not exactly use to anymore. The silence ate away at her quiet resolve until her foot was tapping rapidly below her desk and she was chewing on the eraser of her pencil as she studied her friend from the corner of her eye. She knew that the gnawing feeling of want in her gut was leading her towards the club once again, Alya had given her a taste of the night life and she had become addicted to it. She was at Club Papllion more than her dark skinned friend now but she kept it a secret from the girl and everyone else on campus out of fear that her good girl cover would be blown and she would be treated like a skank or worse by her classmates.

“Uh, Alya?” She asked as she leaned back slightly in the chair.

“Hmm?” Alya adjusted her glasses and flipped the page, not even paying attention to Marinette as she spoke.

“Do you wanna maybe, go out, somewhere… fun?” She asked slowly as she tilted her head to get a better view of her friend.

“Fun?” Alya looked up then and raised her brow at Marinette curiously as she lowered the magazine slightly in her lap.

“Yeah, fun.” She shrugged and slowly turned her chair to fully face her friend, “you know, like we did for my birthday thing?” She twirled her fingers around themselves as she spoke and found a dark patch on the carpet from Alyas last drunken encounter in her room far more interesting than the woman herself.

“Oh, oh Mari no no no.” Alya sighed and ran her fingers through her bangs before moving to crouch before her best friend and grabbed her hands in a warm reassuring way, “we can't go back to Papllion, you can't go back there!” When Marinettes eyes widened in surprise at her best friends words and the woman squatting before her blew out a long puff of air and shook her head. She patted Marinettes knee gently before sighing and looking down to the thick plush pink area rug under them, “Nino heard some rumors of girls disappearing after going to that club. He heard them from the Agreste kid of all people in fact. Anyway, apparently during the sixth month of every year certain girls get chosen by someone who frequents the club and they are never heard from again. Not one or two either, last year twenty girls vanished without a trace from there, at least that what they say.” She stood and offered her small friend a sad shrug, “we could always go somewhere else.” She offered after a moment of silence.

“No, yeah um, it's no big deal. I didn't really want to go out I just thought you would.” Marinette shrugged after the silence stretched between the two of them for far too long. She had to be the good girl, she couldn't let her friend know of Ladybugs many visits to the club after the one that she had been dragged into doing. Marinette couldn't care about the club that she had grown fond of. She couldn't even react to the fact that something so terrible was happening in a place she was just in a few days ago. She turned as the thoughts rushed through her mind and quickly began to sketch in her notebook to show her friend just how uniterested she was in the conversation.

“Awe you really wanted to make me happy?” Alya asked as she watched her friend add a few details to the hem of a skirt she had sketched onto the page.

“Of course. That's not exactly my scene.” Marinette emphasized her words with a grossed out face and an eye roll to her friend. Alya chuckled and leaned away from her then, falling for the girls soft lie easily.

“Yeah you will definitely become a crazy cat lady when we graduate. With only one really famous reporter coming to visit her friend who never leaves her house.” She dramatically hung her arm over her head as she spoke causing Marinette to giggle lightly.

“No, not cats at least. I personally like hamsters.” She stated through her giggles.

“Breaking news at 11 the town shut in Marinette Dupain-Cheng found dead and half eaten by her starving collection of twenty hamsters. More to come after a word from our sponsors.” Both girls broke out in a fit of laughter after Marinette threw a pencil at Alya in response to her dramatic acting. They settled into a comfortable silence then, until Alyas phone began to go off with a slew of rapid text messages from Nino, each one coming in interrupting the bass beat of the ringtone before resuming it.

“Someone is missing date night.” Marinette teased as her blogger friend grew redder and redder with each text she read.

“Uh, hehe obvious huh?” Alya was uncharacteristically shy as she looked up at Marinette over her phone. The young designer in training simply smiled and waved towards her door, motioning to her friend that it was okay for her to go. Alya nodded her thanks and gave her one more suffocating hug before she bounded from the dorm and out of sight. She sighed and shook her head as her door clicked shut and felt her lips pull into a small smile. Alya made having a relationship look like fun, but she couldn't get involved with anyone, not until after she was settled into the fashion industry and had made a name for herself.

She couldn't get herself into a relationship, but she could have fun once in a while. Alya was on a date and would be nowhere near the club so she knew she was in the clear there. She quickly checked to make sure her door was locked and no one would be able to simply walk in on her changing before pulling a box out of the thin space between her bed and floor. Inside the box was her secret projects that had taken up most of her time the last few weeks. Ladybug printed lingerie and tight fitting ladybug inspired dresses and skirts filled the wide box and shoved in one corner rested a pair of black pumps with red spots swirling up the heels of the shiny shoes.

She changed quickly, hands shaking from the excitement that grew in her belly as she watched herself add each piece of the bright red and black fabric to her cream colored skin. She admired her look for a moment before grabbing her long brown trench coat and, with a discontented sigh, covered herself up to hide the outfit. She reached into the box for a final piece of her ensemble and slid it carefully into the pocket of her coat. Who was Ladybug without her mask after all?

The club was a lot less crowded than it had been during her past visits. She didn't even see Kim manning the bar, he had been replaced by a tall man who was built in such a way that looking at him made her think of a silver back gorilla. She smiled at the thought and gave him a friendly little wave as she slid into her usual seat by the bar. He didn't pay her any attention as a sloppily already drunk red head yelled at him from the far side of the bar area. She could hear him grumbling to himself as he moved to fill her order and felt her curiosity pricking the back of her mind as she turned to study the strangers around her. The music in the room was quieter than she had ever experienced it being, a somber tone that caused her smile to slip into a small frown.

“You don't seem to be having much fun young lady.” She jumped and turn to see none other than Papllion himself standing beside her looking as stoic as he always had. She sat a bit straighter in her chair as a deep purple drink was pushed towards her by the grumpy bartender, “it is the signature drink of my club. I've seen you around quite a bit and simply wanted to thank you for your patronage.” He gave her a small bow and patted her shoulder before leaving her on her own to study the drink. It was deep purple at the top and swirled into a lighter color towards the center ending in an almost white color at the bottom of the glass. She lifted it to her nose and gave a careful sniff, it was sweet with a hint of spice that floated with undertones of alcohol and something she couldn't quite pinpoint.

She took a tentative sip and nodded at the delightful flavor that coated her tongue before swallowing it and humming happily at the warm sensation rolling down her throat. She had only ever drank a sex on the beach or two when she visited so this new drink was a pleasant experience that she hadn't been expecting at all. She looked up at the club owner who had resumed his post on the second story landing and raised the glass in a salute to him. His smile seemed a bit less sinister to her than it had the first time she saw him, the thought caused her to giggle to herself as she took another drink from the glass.

An hour passed, then another, people around her began to slip away, to where she didn't know as she drank glass after glass of the clubs signature drink. It was growing on her faster than any other beverage she had been forced into trying before and she found her body feeling lighter and tingly all over as she pushed the fifth empty glass away from her. Her vision swam as she leaned herself against the bar, the surface of which pushed the underside of her breasts and caused them to seem larger and fuller than they usually did. No one spoke to her since the owner ordered her drink and she was grateful for that, if some random guy tried to buy her a drink she would either give in and end up making out with him outside or get so nervous that she threw up purple liquid all over him. This she was surprised to the point of actually jumping in her seat when the bartender passed her a tray of peanut butter crackers and shot her a look that told her to eat them. She smiled at him feebly and lifted a cracker to her lips. As the salty snack slipped into her mouth she felt a strong hand on her shoulder and looked up to see the bartender nodding to whoever was standing behind her. She swallowed and opened her mouth to ask what was going on when a sharp stinging sensation in the back of her neck caused her to wince and cry out in both surprise and pain.

Her vision blurred even more before a wall of black moved in from the edges to fill it completely. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she fell forward, barely missing slamming her face on the bar top when she was caught by the strange hands of the barkeeper grabbing her shoulders. Her mind swam with confused thoughts before everything just seemed to pause. Her thoughts going blank as her senses fell away, giving in to the drug that was forced into her system.

Chapter 2: end

Chapter 3: coming soon

Find me on Fanfiction: Added-OC

And on Wattpad and AO3: AddedOC

[blackthornass]

Do you have any art tips?

Uhhhhhh Funk im not The Greatest Artist ™ but I’ll try to bestow some Wisdom on you. Keep in mind Art is Subjective and I’m no expert and all that so take everything with a grain of salt but that being said I’ll try to give u Tips and Tricks

-listen so if you have a boring class at school just draw in it. School is great because you have 1. Access to paper at all times 2. Incredibly boring lectures. If you have a study hall that’s the Drawing JACKPOT. Basically what I’m saying is practice all the time when you have energy but like that’s such boring art advice. It’s important but “practice! uwu” is like what people with Natural Art Talent say when they didn’t have to figure everything out from the ground up so it’s kind of aggravating

-There’s gonna be people better than you. Chances are you have a friend who’s better than you because this is Tumblr we all draw. Try Not To Compare Yourself ™ which idk how to do but it’s bad don’t do it

-unless you find a terrible person with worse art than you in which case FUCK DUDE COMPARE YOURSELF TO THEM! THEYRE HORRIBLE AND THEY CANT DRAW FOR SHIT LOOK WHOS LAUGHING NOW!

-“work until your idols become your rivals” is absolute bullshit because your idols are working at it at the same time you are. You fool. You imbecile. I feel like this works better for writing when your idols can become irrelevant or straight up die between you being an aspiring author 8 year old and a tired 30 year old who just wrote The Great American Novel ™ or just kind of. Leave the fandom if you’re writing fanfic. Anyway

-ok that’s all the preachy shit, time for Real Art Advice ™. Keep in mind I do digital cartoony shit with Strong Lineart and cel shading for the most part and I pretty much only draw people so my knowledge is limited to that. if you wanna be a professional artist maybe do other things and Expand your Abilities ™

-Ok first off if you’re using Gimp or Photoshop please love yourself and download Firealpaca or illegally torrent Paint Tool Sai or something. I swear by Firealpaca it cured my depression but like. Photoshop is Trash for drawing. Get Firealpaca it has Line Correction ™

-Keep Line Correction ™ at like. A 5 when you’re sketching and at a 19 (the maximum) when you’re lining, coloring, shading, highlighting, doing literally anything that isn’t sketching

-Sketching digitally can be hard if you’re used to sketching on paper and I find it easier to do a sketch on paper, take a picture of it on my phone or scan it, and line/color it digitally. You do you and figure out what works best

-speaking of which I refused to use sketchbooks until I was Worthy ™ of not drawing on notebook paper and uhhhhhh that’s dumb just get a sketchbook they cost a little more than a notebook at Target it’s not super expensive. Although if you’re not financially in the position to buy a sketchbook anyway, just hoard notebooks from school that you didn’t use much. Bam, that’s your new sketchbook

-the Head Circle Cross Thing and the Spheres For Shoulder, Elbow, and Wrist Thing are good and important and will save you

-hands are hard so use references but bullshit your way through it. eventually they’ll look good (I haven’t gotten there yet)

-HAVE FUN WITH NOSES OH MY GOD. Noses are super fun and cool because there’s, like, infinite variety with them, they can be as long or short, thin or thick, rounded or pointy as you want, you can make them be, like, triangles or circles or more squareish or diamond-shaped, the base of the nose can be about as high or as low on the face as you want, you can make the nostrils prominent or not really there at all, they can add another Layer to a character’s design, oh my goodness noses are so fun. They’re like, severely underrated and oh my god I could gush about how fucking fun noses are

-same with facial expressions. Where you put the pupils and how big they are, how much of the eye is covered by eyelids, the way the eyebrows are, the mouth, tons of other shit. There’s loads of variety and so much you can do and honestly having fun with the facial expression is The Best Part. There’s tons of Face Art Chart Memes floating around, you know the ones, save it to your phone/computer and practice those on your own time it’s fun

-if you don’t know how to do something, avoiding it won’t help you. Just kind of draw around with it in your sketchbook or in a “I’m not posting this” file until you feel confident enough to do it in your Real Projects ™.

-Ok for lining did you know..… it isn’t illegal to erase parts of the lineart to clean it up.… just be careful and draw it back in to the best of your abilities if you erase too far and use a smaller eraser brush/lining brush for this… I know it’s tedious nobody likes lining it’s okay you can do this put on some good music

-use mcfucking references

-eyedrop character’s official colors but adjust said colors based on the color of your background to make them look less funky is my general rule for clothing, I usually pick the hair/skin by myself or from something I’ve already drawn though

-for flats, make sure your lineart is all closed off and there aren’t any “holes” cuz that’ll mess up your coloring

-so how I do flats is I use the magic wand tool to select whatever I want to color, expand selection 3 pixels (in firealpaca you can set it to do this automatically), pick the color I need, turn up the brush to as big as possible, and color it in. It saves the time you’d spend with cleaning up where the color gets outside the lines

-you can do the flats on one layer, but I personally like to do every Object on a different layer so when I do shading, I know what goes on top of what

-if a color is darker than the lineart it looks ugly so pick your line color with caution (or just use black! Unlike shading black lineart tends to go with pretty much everything)

-SHADE YOUR GODDAMN ART. Like, what makes people go “wow holy shit that’s good!” is the shading + highlights, don’t be lazy ya fuck.

-I’d take a break before shading to Refresh Your Eyes ™ but also I constantly forget this is a good idea

-don’t shade with black oh my god. Unless you’re doing Strong Punchy Dramatic Stuff or monochrome black and white stuff, don’t shade with black, and if you’re doing that it’ll probably be drawn into the lineart. Don’t shade with black please we can tell you’re doing it and it looks bad

-highlighting with white isn’t too bad though, especially with the eyes, but it might look too strong in some places

-As a general rule, shading is darker and more saturated, highlighting is lighter and less saturated. Whether it gets warmer or cooler depends a lot on what color or thing you’re shading or what you want the feel of the picture to be and I’m not 100% sure how to do it myself so uh. Trust your gut and change the color if it looks wrong I guess.

-where exactly the shadows or highlights fall depends on lots of things, just kind of. Look at how things work irl maybe? This is the kind of thing that you just have to practice, and it’ll look like shit until suddenly it doesn’t sorry I’m not sure what to say

-One Medium Sized White Dot on a layer above the lineart where the pupil borders the Iris (or the whites of the eyes if you’re like me and you make the pupil and Iris one thing) works for a glint in the eye that makes a person look less dead and more cute. How big you’re gonna make it depends on how adorable you want the person to be

-SMOOTH BORDERS FOR THE SHADING ARE REALLY IMPORTANT IF YOURE DOING CEL SHADING which is why firealpaca is my best friend thanks line smoothing. If you’re doing like. Soft shading or painterly shit or other kinds of shading it’s less Super Important but like. Still be sort of neat. Unless being really messy and sketchy is what you’re going for but even then you still need to be sort of careful

-for simple backgrounds, it’s like. Easy to make it interesting. Add polka dots to the background or a big old square or a gradient or a cloud filter or something the possibilities are endless. Another option is to straight up make it transparent and write a secret message in white on the side. But uhh never do a blank white background at the very least fill it with a solid color

-ok style is kind of hard because I never had to struggle to find my style? I just “drew in my handwriting” so to speak and then if along the way I realized something looked shitty I just changed how I drew it slightly? I guess a thing you could do if you’re in tune enough is look at the styles of things you do like and things you don’t and figure out why you do and don’t like it. “I like how *2010s cartoon* does Eyes!” great take that general concept. “I hate how this shitty yaoi has enormous hands!” great then don’t do that. It’s all Personal Preference my dude style is Your Own Thing

-notes aren’t everything but fuck do they feel nice. Self reblogs are fine but don’t overdo it, I’d say reblog it Twice to account for time zones and tag it as self reblog so as to not be a dick

This got long whoops. That’s all I can think of but I hope this helps it’s All I Know