#you know I actually draw very often but most of the sketches seem very stupid to me to put them here— | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

geminiamethyst · 1 year

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Let The Flames Begin. Chapter 9: An Ugly Reunion

Chapter 1: click HERE

Chapter 8: click HERE

Chapter 10: click HERE

After the week trial was over, Flameslinger stuck with his choice to stay. This was the first time in a very long time that he felt like he had a home. No more sleeping rough in woods or fearing someone capturing him in his sleep. While he still had his guard up most of the time, all of his nights were nothing but peaceful. He had only woken up a few times in the night for an emergency mission. And everyone around him were quite nice. He did get some stares and questions about his blindfold at first, but after a few days of avoiding the questions and ignoring these stares, the other Skylanders let his choice to wear it go. He still hasn’t told anyone about his eyes. Probably for the best. Stump Smash kept his word and never uttered a word about his past. At least he had one friend that he could trust with his secret. Maybe he’ll tell someone else, but only on his terms. Until then, he was content with keeping his secrets to himself.

Today was working like clockwork almost. Flameslinger hadn’t been called out for any missions yet, but he was on standby should he be needed. He normally would be training but after doing a couple hours of it, he was kinda kicked out for almost working himself too much. While he wasn’t happy about it at first, after a few minutes, he got the picture. He needed a break. Which brought him to here. He sat himself down under a tree holding a sketchbook in his lap. He wasn’t drawing anything specific, just doodles and small sketches. It was just something to help him relax. He didn’t think that he was skilled or anything, but that didn’t mean that he can’t enjoy doing it. He mostly preferred to do it when he was in his room or on his own outside. He felt like he would be a little self conscious if someone watched him or saw the drawings when he was done or taking a break.

Flameslinger could care less about anything else around him as his hands seemed to automatically continue his drawings. It was kind of strange in a way. He was doing little shapes but they slowly started to become proper drawings. Maybe he should try doing some proper sketching? Wouldn’t hurt to try. He continued to have this train of thought until two shadows neared him. He closed his sketchbook to keep these two from seeing them. He looked up, expecting to see any of his fellow Skylanders to offer him some company. However, he faltered when he saw the two people that he never wanted to see ever again.

His own parents!

“What are you two doing here?” Flameslinger asked, rising to his feet. He stood firm. He can’t allow himself to show how scared he actually was. How did they even work out that he was a Skylander anyway? He had been so careful up until now. A lucky guess? A tip?

“Isn’t it obvious? We’re taking you home.” The father spoke haughtily.

“Don’t be stupid. This is my home.” Flameslinger countered. He can’t leave this place. This was his true home. No one can tell him otherwise.

“Oh stop this foolish fantasy!” The father scoffed, rolling his eyes. Flameslinger’s ear twitched. Fantasy? “We all know that you’re just pretending to be a Skylander. The only thing that you’re good for, are your eyes.”

“I don’t do that anymore.” Flameslinger argued, ready to start taking a step back.

“Because of you playing heroes, we almost went homeless. We were lucky that we had enough to live by.” The father continued to dig in. Here comes the guilt tripping. It worked back then, but it won’t work now. Flameslinger wasn’t as weak willed as he once was.

“And we had to start working to support ourselves! It was humiliating!” The mother finally added, reeling at the memory of her first day of hard work. Now that Flameslinger looked at them, they did look less extravagant than they were back then. Their clothes were old and wrinkled. Their hands were worn and healed from old blisters, even their fingernails were worn down to stumps. The jewellery that his mother often wore was gone and replaced with cheep knock-offs. She didn’t even wear make up anymore. All the riches that they spoiled themselves with so many years ago seemed to have faded away, almost like a mirage. What goes around, comes around. But that’s going to take more than that to convince Flameslinger to go back to that horrible place.

“I don’t care. Now leave.” Flameslinger scolded, starting to walk a bit closer to the Academy where he’d have witnesses. In fact a couple of the Skylanders had started to notice the commotion now. They must have heard the shouting.

“Don’t tell us what to do boy!” The father shouted, grabbing Flameslinger’s arm, forcing him to stop. The Fire Skylander yanked his arm out of the semi tight grip.

“What’s going on here?” Master Eon suddenly asked, approaching the elves. Hugo was right behind him, putting something in his backpack quickly. The Portal Master’s eyes seemed to widen a little as he spotted the couple. “You-”

“Stay out of this! This so a family affair!” The mother aggressively dismissed. Either she was stupid or she actually didn’t know who she was speaking to, because it was rare for anyone that wasn’t a villain to speak to the Portal Master like that.

“Family? Funny you should say that.” Flameslinger scoffed, ready to start walking away again.

“We’re your parents and we’re taking you home.” The mother shouted, ears flattening against her head. Flameslinger had heard enough. These two were nothing more than strangers to him. They had never been family, and they will never be family. They had no right to come here and try to force him back into a life of misery. He was happy here. They can’t rip that away from him. He turned and was about to start walking to the safety of the Academy. He hoped that this will drive the message home that he wasn’t going with those two. However, he was suddenly grabbed and was forcefully turned around.

“Don’t turn your back on us!” The father yelled before something hard and fast struck Flameslinger’s cheek. He couldn’t hold back a yelp in a mixture of shock and pain as he stumbled sideways. He had dropped his sketchbook and pencil as his hands automatically flew up to his sore cheek. That’s when he realised that the father had given him a solid punch across the face.

There was a flurry of shouts and movement from the other Skylanders that were in the courtyard. They had witnessed the needless assault on one of their own. And now they wanted answers as to why. They all looked like they were about to charge, with Eon getting ready to say something. Flameslinger stuck out his arm, causing everyone to stop. Even Eon remained silent. Flameslinger breathed heavily, overcoming his shock. A part of him was still processing the blow as his hand lowered from his face. There was a darkening mark that was forming into a bruise. He lowered his other arm and stepped forward to the elven couple.

“If you’re really my parents, then tell me this. What’s my name? The name that you should’ve given me.” He hissed, just loud enough for the mother and father to hear. As expected, they didn’t answer. More like they couldn’t answer. They glanced at each other as they were stuttering and trying to remember if they even did give Flameslinger a name or not. Even if they couldn’t, they didn’t even say the world’s most common name. That was the answer that Flameslinger wanted. “That’s what I thought. Now stay away from me.”

Flameslinger didn’t need to remove his blindfold to show that he was glaring. He wanted nothing more than these two strangers to leave. He had never felt so mad at him before. He MIGHT have forgiven them if they got the hint, walked away and never bothered him again. But refusing to leave and striking him like this was taking it a step too far. His anger was boiling up. It was like a ticking time bomb that was ready to explode if these two make a wrong move. Thankfully, Master Eon stepped in, defusing the bomb. He stood between Flameslinger and the disgruntled parents. They looked almost ashamed as they finally realised who they were in the presence of.

“Hugo, take Flameslinger to my office. Make sure that he’s comfortable.” The Portal Master ordered, his voice surprisingly calm about the situation. The Mabu passed Flameslinger his sketchbook and pencil before gently leading him towards the building. Flameslinger kept his eyes downward, not wanting to see the look that he was being given. Pity, concern and disbelief. He can’t face that right now.

Master Eon watched in concern until Hugo had closed the doors behind him and Flameslinger. He kept a cool, calm exterior, but inside he was boiling with anger. He had always had this drive to protect the Skylanders to the best of his ability. So it was a wonder to him as to how he was dealing with this so calmly. Must be an age comes with experience thing.

“As for you two, I have never witnessed anyone striking any of my Skylanders like that.” Eon started, glaring right down at the elven couple. They started to break out into a cold sweat as the Portal Master spoke. “The audacity of it is unacceptable. You have no right to do that! Leave! And don’t you dare think of coming back.”

“He’s our son! You have no right-“ the father spoke up after gathering up his courage.

“I think your “son” has made it clear that he doesn’t want to see either of you again.” Spyro countered, stepping forward to stand next to Eon. His body was tensed up, almost ready to start chasing the elves in front of him if they made a wrong move. Other Skylanders also stepped forward, which included Stump Smash, Stealth Elf, Lightning Rod (whose cloud has started to slowly turn from grey to black), and Fright Rider. They won’t hurt the elves that trespassed here, but they’ll absolutely scare them off if needed. No one hurts one of there own like that and gets away with it. The elven couple didn’t look completely shaken down yet. Rather they looked like that they wanted to keep arguing but didn’t know how to start.

“Go on! Beat it! Or do I have to smash some sense into you both?!” Stump Smash snarled, smashing his mallets on the ground as a good warning. The elven couple stumbled back in fright and weighed out their options. Finally they gave up, deciding that trying to take on the whole academy wasn’t worth the trouble. They backed away, heading towards a rather beat up sky schooner that looked like it was once in its prime when it was bought years ago, and was now about to fall apart at any moment.

“You will regret this.” The father hissed before starting up the engine. With the engine sputtering, the sky schooner flew off. The Skylanders watched as the vehicle turned into a small dot. They wanted to make sure that those elves didn’t do a U-turn back. Thankfully, with how far they were now, it didn’t seem like they would come back. They had to be completely stupid to think that their plan would work. With how they spoke and attacked Flameslinger like that, what did they expect? Especially in front of Master Eon of all people. There was just this mixture of anger, confusion and concern from everyone. Master Eon especially. This was quite a problem. Even after all that the elven couple seemed like they weren’t done yet.

“Alright, everyone, back to what you were doing.” Master Eon sighed, turning his attention to everyone. They didn’t look like they wanted to move, but a few eventually broke away with a lot of uncertainty looking over them.

“Master Eon? What about Flameslinger?” Spyro asked, gesturing to the Academy. He was the only Skylander that stayed. Stealth Elf had vanished, and Stump Smash was grumbling bitterly with his housemates as they uncomfortably left the scene.

“You let me worry about him Spyro. Please try to clear your head about this matter.” Master Eon spoke calmly. Spyro wasn’t convinced but after all that had happened, he couldn’t bring himself to stand his ground. With a couple of flaps from his wings he started to fly around the Academy to clear his head. He didn’t know what was going on or why these so called “parents” wanted to take Flameslinger, but he hoped that this matter was resolved for good and won’t escalate any further.

#skylanders #skylanders spyro's adventure #Skylanders Swap Force #skylanders giants #skylanders trap team #skylanders superchargers #Skylanders Imaginators #flameslinger #master eon #stump smash #spyro skylanders

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polnareffenjoyer · 3 years

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Uh unsure how many characters you’re willing to write for but can I have the SDC crew reacting to seeing their crush’s sketchbook filled with drawings and silly comics of them? On the case you do have a limit on how many, then I’m fine with either Polnareff, Kakoyin, Jotaro or Avdol (who can pick whoever if you want to!) Hope you’re having a lovely day!💕💕

This is such a cute idea anon, hope you like it. Also I don't really have a character limit, I wanted to do all of the crusaders but then I got tired and it already took me such a long time to finish it and ahhh. Sorry for all the grammatical errors, English is not my first language and it's already so late when I'm finishing it and it's just bleh. I hope you like it anyways, sending much love to you anon! ♥️

Stardust Crusaders finding their crushes' sketchbook

Jotaro Kujo

He notices that you've been spending most of your free time drawing in that sketchbook of yours. Truth be told, it bothers him a lot. Jotaro has had a big fat crush on you for a while now, and he secretly longs for your company. He can't admit that tho, he has a hard ass bad boy reputation to maintain after all. What would people say if the saw him all flustered for a girl? The fact that you would rather sit by yourself and draw than be around him and the others bugs him. So one day, when you're busy with something else, he takes your beloved sketchbook and decides to see what's in there. He knows he's being creepy, but he couldn't care less. Just trying to get to know you better, without actually talking to you. Exactly.

He's very flustered but would rather die than admit it. Has read through all of it, admiring every single little drawing. After he's done, he'll just put it back where he found it, it the exact same place just so you don't notice someone has been messing with it. You probably have no idea he had seen your sketchbook at first, but you surely notice the blush dusting his cheeks whenever he speaks to you from that day on. Probably avoids you for a little while because he's so flustered.

The rest of the crew also notices something is off, Jotaro is always lost in thoughts and smokes more frequently. He can't keep himself from thinking about those cute drawings of yours, reading through your comics was a true delight. It fills him with glee to know that HE, among all of the crusaders, is the one who's the main character in your stories. It makes him giddy on the inside.

His secret eventually comes to light one night, he accidentally admits to having read through your comics while a late night talk between the whole group. While you were talking, Kakyoin had brought up the topic of your sketchbook. Now it's your turn to be embarassed, blushing crimson while trying to get as much information out of him as possible. How much did he see? Did he read through ALL OF THEM?

The rest of the crusaders are shocked at first, but quickly they start to laugh at the scene. Jotaro is reluctant to give any information, but he eventually tells you that yes, indeed, he's seen EVERYTHING. However, doesn't admit what the content of the sketchbook really is. Despite everything, he would never embarass you like that.

After everyone goes to sleep, you catch Jotaro before he has a chance to fall asleep, lying on his sleeping bag while looking at the night sky. You want to apologize, say anything, just to talk to him, but you're unable to find right words. He just sighs.

"Yare yare daze, there's no need to be embarassed [Y/N], I'm not mad"

Your eyes light up at his words. You want to say something, anything, thank him, but before you get a chance to do so, Jotaro's deep voice cuts you off.

"To be honest, I think your drawings are amazing. I really liked them" you notice his face is slightly tinted red from underneath his cap "But if you wanted me to model for you, you could've just said so"

With that, he rolls over and away from you. Completely baboozled, you roll over as well and try to sleep, or at least pretend to be asleep. Honestly, neither of you had slept much that night.

Kakyoin Noriaki

Kakyoin had a thing for you since you joined the crusaders, and your sketchbook is probably the very first thing he had noticed about you. He's always been interested in art, his parents had signed him up to numerous art courses and whatnot through his life. He's always loved drawing and painting, using it as an escape from his daily problems, and seeing that you two might have something in common makes him incredibly happy, especially since he has feelings for you.

He'll try to approach you about your sketchbook very subtely, afraid that he might scare you away by being too pushy. Of course you get extremely flustered everytime he brings it up, but it doesn't discourage him. Kakyoin respects your boundaries and understands that you might not be ready to show him your drawings yet. Despite that, he's always willing to share his knowledge with you. He'll give you advices about proper shading while you two are waiting in the hotel lobby for the rest of the group to finish up picking rooms. During a long car ride, he'll talk to you about his favourite artists. If you want him to show you how to put certain shading techniques into practice, he'll be more than happy to do so. He'll just pick a random piece of paper and start drawing on it, you might want to lean in closer and maybe put your head on his shoulder to get a better look? He has no objections! Just sayin.

When he eventually gets to see your sketchbook, this man is so honored! He didn't mean to look, at first he though it was just some book lying around and wanted to take a look inside, out off boredom. Once he realizes what he's reading at, his face flushes with crimson. Your sketchbook is filled with sketches of him? This whole time you were actually drawing him, out of all people? He couldn't be more grateful that no one else was around, if someone saw him reading through your comics with this stupid smile on his face and red cheeks, they would've though he went mad.

Kakyoin wastes no time trying to find you. For a moment, he thinks that perhaps he should've waited a bit, just to get you alone and not embarass you infront of the whole crew. He can't think straight though, his mind filled with your cute little drawings, with his face drawn with black pen over and over again. With glee, he notes that you had used the very techniques he had told you about earlier. If you had drawn him so many times, does it mean that you have a crush on him too? It's too good to be true.

"[Y/N]! Can I talk with you for a minute?"

He goes to confront you immediately. Others give him a puzzled look, but he couldn't care less. He grabs your arms and leads you away.

"Don't be mad [Y/N], but I've seen your sketchbook and I have to say, I think your art is beyond amazing!"

You're at loss of words, your face red and you could swear that you've never felt so embarassed in your whole entire life. However, his reaction is making you feel a bit better. He's not mad, nor is he making fun of you. If anything, he seems enamoured.

"Please, [Y/N], we should draw together! Maybe next time we have a chance, I should paint your portrait?"

Despite the awkwardness, the whole situation turns out amazing in the end. How he's sure you must have feelings for him, and it makes him incredibly happy, hoping that one day, after your crusade is done, he'll get a chance to repay you and make that promised portrait.

Muhammad Avdol

With everything that's been happening lately, Avdol gets a little bit distracted from you. Before he would steal glances your way all the time, watching with curiosity as you would draw something in your sketchbook. Recently, he's been too busy fighting enemy stand users and... well, trying not to die. He still cares about you a lot and watches over you during fights, ready to shield you from danger with his own body, if it's what it takes to keep you safe.

It probably happens because of a mishap. While you are deciding on your rooming, you leave your sketchbook lying next to Avdol's things and go to the bathroom. After he's done helping Joseph with translating and getting everything done, he goes back and assumes that it's just one of his books that has fallen out of the bag. Not thinking much of it, he picks it up and leaves with Mrs Joestar to settle in their shared room.

You can imagine the panic and shock that nearly paralyzes you once you notice that your beloved sketchbook is gone, nowhere to be seen, reduced to atoms! You begin to look around frantically, looking under the furniture while sweating profusely. Other quests give you weird looks, but you don't even notice them staring. Polnareff is one of them, he asks if you're okay and tries to calm you down, but to no avail. After he leaves, you try to focus really hard and try to remember - when did you see it last time? It was on that chair for sure when you left. God, you can only pray that it doesn't end up in Avdol's hands somehow...

Meanwhile, Avdol is getting ready for shower and goes through his bag. He notices the book he picked up from the lobby isn't even a book, but a sketchbook! Now he's sure he must've picked it up by mistake, he decides it would be best to put it down and not look through it. It's someone's very personal art after all, it would be very disrespectful to - wait a damn minute, is that HIM?

Long story short, he goes through a good portion of your drawings before Joseph comes out of the shower and gives him a puzzled look, seeing how his eyes are literally shinning with adoration. He puts your sketchbook back into his bag, acting as if nothing happened and continues on with his nightly routine. Later on, when Joseph is already fast asleep, he contemplates about whether or not he should go to your room right now and ask about the sketchbook he had found. He's already suspecting it's yours, whose else would it be? He has seen you drawing often, could it be that you returned his feelings and had spent your time sketching him? Ultimately, he decides to wait until tomorrow to find out.

The very next day, he knocks on your door early in the morning. It startles you awake, running up to your door to look through a peephole, seeing a muscular man on the other side. Sighing heavily, you unlock the door and open it just a little bit.

"Excuse my intrusion, [Y/N], but I have found something that I think belongs to you."

Now that's embarassing. You see your sketchbook in his hand, a wide, knowing smile on his face. He knows it's yours. All it took is one look at your stupid red face to figure it out. God, he can read you like an open book, can't he? While you reach out to take it from him, your fingers touch just slightly.

"Don't worry, I swear I won't tell anyone about this" she winked at you, which almost made you gasp "If anything, I think I should maybe pose for you in private? So you can get a better look? You should think about it..."

Who would've thought this man could be such a flirt sometimes...

Jean Pierre Polnareff

You better watch out, because if this man has a crush on you, you bet he would go above and beyond to find out what's inside that sketchbook. I'm not joking. He forgets what personal space is, he's even worse that Jotaro, because while JoJo would make sure to be sneaky, Polnareff wouldn't even bother. He'll try to catch a sneak peak by looking over your shoulder while you're drawing, constantly asking you questions about art related things, everything always leading to your sketchbook.

He wants to know what's inside. Simple as that. You're like an enigma to him, I feel like all women are mysteries to him and he always works towards finding out what their secrets are. You are especially interesting to him, because of how secretive you are with your art. He's captivated, and while he never had any interest in arts himself, he had always fancied himself as a man with a great sense of beauty. That being said, he's always trying to get your attention while talking about how "France is a wonderful country for artists! You should come and visit after our crusade is over, [Y/N]! I'll show you all the greatest museums and art galleries!"

He's like a puppy, following you around and being just a bit too pushy. If you tell him you feel uncomfortable, he'll back off of course. He's not just some juvenile pervert after all! He's a honourable man who would never touch or bother a woman without her permission, no matter how desperate he seems sometimes.

When he finally sees your sketchbook, it's probably because he did it on purpose and not because of an accident. He wanted to make sure that it was him your were capturing in your drawing, and boy was he happy when he saw what's inside! It's all him, cute little sketches, little comics, it's better that he could've ever imagined! He's literally crying the tears of joy while reading them. Before it was all just wishful thinking, but now it turns out to be true! He's honoured, admiring every single little drawing with hit tears streaming down his face. He must look pathetic right now, if anyone was around they would think the was a mad man. He gets up and runs away with your sketchbook in his hand, trying to find you.

"[Y/N]! Ma cherie! Mon coeur! My love, my life! We need to talk!"

Did i mention that he doesn't shy away from nicknames? Yeah.

It's probably the worst confrontation compared to the rest of them, he's not subtle like Kakyoin and decides to talk with you about your drawings right then and there, in front of everyone. At first they're surprised, looking at Polnareff as is he was crazy, but slowly their shock is replaced with amusement. Joseph doesn't even try to hold back his laughter, while the rest of the crew is trying to keep it cool as not to embarass you any further while the Frenchman is just going on and on with his declarations of undying love. It's a bit dramatic, one of these moments that you will probably laugh about in the future, but you felt like disappearing right then and there.

"Your drawing are magnifique! [Y/N], my love, if you wanted to draw me, you could've just said so! Although I don't think I deserve to be potrayed by you, to be drawn by your skilled hands, ma cherie!"

You snatch the sketchbook from him. After that incident you probably try to avoid him, but he won't give up! He's more determined than ever, knowing that you feel the same way as he does fills him with hope, hope for a future life with you that is! He won't give up until he makes you the happiest woman on earth.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba x reader #jjba x you #stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #muhammad avdol #jean pierre polnareff #jotaro x reader #jjba imagines #stardust crusaders imagines #kakyoin imagine #polnareff x reader #avdol x reader #jjba headcanons #first request done!

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kstewdeux · 3 years

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For a span of a minute that felt like an eternity, the entire world focused in on one singular point. A small painting. It’s edges well worn. Finer details faded and lost due to the passage of time but otherwise, in shockingly good condition.

But for all it’s antiquity, there was no mistaking the young woman who had been depicted. Whoever wrote the small exhibition label had simply labeled it:

Unidentified Artist, Japanese

Late Tokugawa Shogunate, Edo Period, 1853-1867

Young Woman

Painting on Parchment

H. Nakamura Trust, 88.251

According to the small blurb beneath the exhibition label, this tiny piece of parchment, clearly kept over the past century with meticulous care, had - at some point - apparently been studied by scholars to prove it was genuine. A fact that had been in dispute because the style diverged so greatly from art styles of the period but Kagome knew what the artist had been trying to do.

A photograph. He’d tried to mimic a photograph. Not perfect by any means but as close as someone in that time period could get. Which was shocking given (a) she had no idea he could draw and (b) that he would’ve taken the time to draw her.

Jaw trembling, Kagome had to remind herself to breathe. A task made more difficult as her friends joined her and began commenting on how the girl in the drawing resembled her.

Of course it did. It was her.

Her blurry vision flicked to the date and what registered felt like something cold was crushing her heart. If this ‘unidentified artist’ was him, Inuyasha had survived their quest and lived hundreds of years clearly hoping to see her again. At some point, he must have realized he simply wasn’t going to make it and…

Exhaling shakily, Kagome swallowed and decided it would be easier to simply leave. She was getting worked up over nothing. It was entirely possible that all of this was a coincidence. That she was reading too much into it. After all, Inuyasha wasn’t an artist by any means and most certainly would not have spent hundreds of years thinking about her. They were friends. Just friends. Unless something changed, which seemed unlikely, he had no interest in being with her that way. Besides, surely there were other women who looked like her throughout history. Everyone had a doppelgänger, right? Hers just happened to be some random woman in 19th century Japan.

It was just a painting of her doppelgänger.

Hopefully. Hopefully that’s all that it was.

“I have to go,” Kagome mumbled hoarsely as she took a step back and tore her eyes away from the painting, “I need to go.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Yuka asked worriedly, “Do…”

Unable to hear anything over the ringing in her ears, Kagome’s eyes wavered as they flicked back to the blurb that, upon closer inspection, described the other sketches and accompanying notes that detailed the artist’s ‘love’ for the young woman depicted. Various photographs of said notes had been attached slightly below said blurb and one of them had her shaking her head in mild horror.

‘I will not know your name next time we meet…’

“I need to go,” Kagome repeated breathlessly before turning on her heel and damn near running for the entrance. After that, she wouldn’t’ve been able to tell you how long or far or even which direction she ran from the mental image of an elderly Inuyasha writing out those notes he had to believe she’d never read. It might not even be him. Couldn’t be him. He didn’t draw. Couldn’t say something poetic much less write it. It had to be a coincidence. Just a coincidence but the image continued playing in her mind until she was blinded by tears. He died alone. Even…even if she did end up with him, she would’ve been dead by the time he wrote that. Long before he even picked up that brush. It…it…

It was all becoming too painful to even imagine.

Coming to an abrupt halt, Kagome clutched at her chest and used the side of a cement building for support. Inuyasha died over a hundred years ago and while that made sense, the realization that all her friends had died sometime in the past five hundred years hit her with all the force of a Mack truck.

Whimpering softly, her legs gave out and she slid down to the cold sidewalk. It was a coincidence. Just a coincidence. The probability of it all…

Well it just wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be him. It just…

“There you are,” came a hoarse, relieved whisper from far too close before two strong arms scooped her up and pulled her off the ground, “What happened? I’ve been looking everywhere.”

“Inuyasha?” Kagome mumbled stupidly before she whined and pressed her face into the corner of his neck - a gesture which had him stopping and doing something strange. His face turned slightly and buried his nose into her hair.

“What happened? I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what happened,” he chided anxiously as he gave her a light squeeze, “You hurt?”

Opening her eyes, Kagome glanced around the dimly lit streets and realized how late it was. No wonder he’d come after her.

“M’fine. Got lost is all,” she lied lamely and she felt him inhale deeply then sigh.

“Bullshit. What happened?” he asked again before adding in a clear attempt to get her to smile, “I don’t mind killing people ya know. If someone hurt you, I’ll make them pay, ya know, if you want.”

“Nothing happened. Just got lost on my way home,” she mumbled and with a somewhat exasperated grunt, Inuyasha continued walking again.

“You’re a terrible liar and an idiot,” Inuyasha opined firmly - adjusting his hold on her and shaking his head, “You could’ve gotten hurt out here by yourself, stupid. Anything could’ve happened.”

“I was…”

“Sometimes I swear you’re trying to get yourself killed,” he continued chiding as some of his anger began bubbling to the surface, “What would’ve happened if I didn’t come looking, huh?”

“I said I’m sorry,” she protested weakly - her nose subtly nuzzling the flesh at the base of his neck, “I…”

“Sorry isn’t good enough. You need to do better,” Inuyasha snapped angrily before pausing mid-stride and sighing, “I swore to protect you but you make it so…so hard sometimes. And you don’t even care. You just…just go around getting kidnapped or disappearing and…and getting hurt when I’m not looking.”

It was strange but hearing his voice berate her and feeling his irritated breaths actually improved her mood considerably.

“I waited. Like an idiot I waited for you to come back from that school thing of yours instead of coming to get you like normal but…but then the sun went down and…” Inuyasha continued to huffed and grunt while his arms held her slightly tighter, “I can’t be there all the time dammit. I can’t. I’d like to be but…but I just can’t so…so you just have to fucking do better.”

Lifting her head slightly at this strange command, Kagome studied his face for a moment before leaning forward and absently placing a kiss on his tense neck. Inuyasha went stock still and then rigid but she couldn’t find it in her to care.

“I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll do better,” she promised tiredly as she pressed another lazy kiss on his shoulder. At least in this moment, he was alive and loved. Right now, he wasn’t alone drawing paintings and writing notes to someone who was either dead or hadn’t been born yet. And while true that the ‘unidentified artist’ was probably anyone else, that mental image of it being him continued to haunt her.

Taking a deep breath, Kagome stubbornly told herself that the ‘unidentified artist’ couldn’t be him. It simply wasn’t possible. For so many reasons.

“You kissed me,” Inuyasha finally blurted and mercifully distracted from her inner turmoil, Kagome hummed in the affirmative. A second passed then two and he forced out a strangled, “W-why?”

“I wanted to,” Kagome offered tiredly as she focused on the feel of him and the knowledge that, as of this moment, he was very much alive. And yes, now that she was a little calmer, it was fairly obvious that the ‘unidentified artist’ wasn’t Inuyasha. He didn’t think of her in that way. Never had. Never would. They were friends. Best friends. But he loved someone else and had made it very clear he wasn’t interested in her that way.

As Kagome continued talking herself down, Inuyasha remained motionless for a long time before he finally began walking back towards the shrine. Slowly. Every so often he’d pause and take a few short breaths like he wanted to say something but stopped himself.

“Why did you want to?” he finally asked hesitantly as he turned a corner, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Because you’re you,” she mumbled as her consciousness began ebbing. With a soft sigh, she relaxed more fully against his warm chest and offered up an additional explanation, “It made me happy.”

This response clearly bothered him judging by the increased tension in his muscles.

“Why did kissing me make you happy?” he pressed after another long moment of silence.

“Dunno. Why do you think it…” Kagome trailed off into a yawn and Inuyasha let out a small groan.

“I don’t know. That’s why I was asking,” Inuyasha interrupted with a huff of frustration, “You always make things hard. For no reason.”

Instead of getting angry, Kagome simply cooed and snuggled into him which seemed to both bother and calm him.

“You’re so stupid,” he continued to grumble as he adjusted his hold, “Ask a simple question and you just…act like you.”

“How else am I supposed to act?” Kagome hummed with mild amusement and Inuyasha grunted.

“Whatever. You need to sleep,” he changed the subject miserably as he finally made it to the shrine and began climbing the steps, “But don’t think I’m gunna take it easy on you. I’m serious. You can’t do shit like that again. You could’ve gotten…”

“Will you stay here tonight?” Kagome interrupted tiredly and Inuyasha once again stopped mid-step. His hands flexed against the flesh they were gripping as he licked his lips and averted his eyes.

“Only if you tell me why you really kissed me,” he repeated his earlier question - before continuing with an unease tinged with hope which surprised her, “I think I deserve some answers after the stupid stunt you just pulled and if you’re trying…if you did that to just…just distract me, it won’t work. Won’t change nothing. You still gotta be less stupid.”

“I did it because I wanted to,” Kagome repeated before gasping when he suddenly set her down and glared.

“Well what if I didn’t want you to?” Inuyasha huffed - something strangely hurt behind his expressive amber eyes, “You’ve never tried to mess with me before. Never. And…and do you have any idea how scared I was when you didn’t come home? I searched for you, Kagome. From the…the 6 to the 9. Do you know how hard it is to track scents here? To listen for you? It’s a literal miracle that I…”

“I said I’m sorry,” Kagome insisted and Inuyasha looked even more hurt. Breathing heavily, he visibly tried to control whatever reaction was brewing under the surface but unfortunately, his confusion and hurt bubbled over.

“I DON’T WANT AN APOLOGY!” Inuyasha bellowed - his hurt escalating into full blown anger with such speed it nearly gave her whiplash, “YOU COULD’VE DIED. YOU COULD’VE BEEN HURT! AND I’M NOT SO DESPERATE THAT A STUPID KISS IS GUNNA MAKE ME FORGET THAT! WHY DID YOU KISS ME?!”

“I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you!” Kagome snapped and Inuyasha looked a hair away from strangling her.

“THAT’S NOT AN ANSWER! YOU’RE JUST TRYING TO COVER YOUR ASS AND…” Inuyasha began to rail against her once more and it was at that point Kagome’s mind officially hit It’s breaking point. He wanted answers, huh? He wanted to know why she ran and why she kissed him and why she was so upset?!

“FINE! KNOW WHY I DID THAT?! BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!” Kagome screamed bitterly and Inuyasha froze like a deer in the headlights, “I KISSED YOU BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! THERE! HAPPY?!”

When Inuyasha continued gaping at her with a shell-shocked expression, the full ramifications of what she’d just admitted hit her like a ton of bricks.

“Forget it,” she breathed miserably as she turned and unsteadily began climbing the stairs with her arms curled tightly around her stomach, “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t do…any of that again. Just forget what I said.”

“Wait. Wait,” Inuyasha’s strangely panicked voice called out - a single clawed hand gripping her shoulder to force her to stop, “I don’t think I heard that right. W-why did you…”

“Let me go Inuyasha,” Kagome hissed but the hand didn’t release her.

“C-can I tell you w-what I heard?” he asked with a mixture of fear and desperation, “A-and I could be wrong but I just…”

“You hear everything Inuyasha,” Kagome huffed acidly as she pushed away his hand with all her might, “You heard what I said…”

Even as she climbed the stairs, she could hear his harsh rapid breaths which honestly had her moving a little faster. Everything was ruined now. All because of some stupid little painting that she’d just…

“You…you said you…you loved me,” he repeated barely above a whisper, “Right?”

Closing her eyes, Kagome let out a long sigh before squaring her shoulders and deciding to face her mistake head on.

“I do love you but I don’t…” she began as she turned to face him before being cut off when a pair of lips captured her own. Two strong arms snaked around her waist for but a moment before his calloused hands suddenly cupped her face in an effort to force her to respond.

When she finally did and when he finally pulled back, his slightly euphoric expression faded into mild horror and panic.

“Y-you said you l-loved me back, r-right?” he asked worriedly as he released and took an involuntary step back, “That’s…that’s what you said. Two, no, three times. You said that…”

“That I loved you…back,” Kagome repeated slowly and Inuyasha gave a jerky nod in response.

“That’s what you said,” he insisted miserably - his amber eyes flicking in the direction of the well, “So…and I mean, you did start the…the kissing so I…and you were an idiot. Scared me half to…”

“Know what? That is what I said,” Kagome hummed in a resigned fashion as she reached out and gestured for him to take her hand, “Come on. Let’s go inside. It’s late.”

Swallowing thickly, Inuyasha eyed the beckoning hand with weary apprehension before accepting the gesture and allowing her to lead him into the house. And up the stairs. And into her bedroom. And then onto her bed. A bed upon which he found himself awkwardly waiting while Kagome proceeded to change and get ready for the night.

“Where are you gunna sleep…” he began nervously when it finally dawned on him that she seemed to be intending for him to sleep on the bed. That’s where she led him and where she told him to stay after all. Which was strange but it had been a strange night. Maybe she was trying to make him feel better. Do him a favor?

“In the bed,” Kagome hummed as she ran a brush through her hair and gave him a warm smile. A smile that faded when he stood up and began nervously glancing around with a marked blush.

“Inuyasha, where are you going?”

“You’re gunna sleep on the bed,” he muttered as he prepared to sleep in his normal position on the floor, “And you…well I was gunna…”

“If you want, you can sleep in the bed with me…”

Amber eyes widened as a single impulsive ‘oh’ left his lips but instead of sitting back down on the bed, he remained standing and staring at her with that same shell-shocked expression.

“Is that…okay?” Kagome asked nervously.

Seeming to come back to himself, Inuyasha nodded fervently and quickly sat down atop the mattress.

“Y-yeah thats…that’s…yeah. Yeah. We can do that…”

That night was the first of many nights he spent cuddled up against the woman of his dreams. Letting the warmth of her body span the length of his own as he relished in the knowledge that somehow this woman loved him. How, when or even why didn’t matter. She loved him back and that first night, as he held her small frame against him, he very nearly cried in relief. Honestly, before that night, he had already decided he was going to let her go rather than say anything. There was no way she’d ever love him back, he’d reasoned. No one would ever want to be with a half-breed, right? He’d never been so happy to be wrong.

Weeks went by after that and the funny thing was, when Kagome absently mentioned the painting from the museum to her friends over lunch, none of them had the faintest clue what she was talking about. All they remembered was her leaving in a rush. While Kagome chalked this up to the art not being memorable to anyone else, the truth was that no one else would ever remember this art because it simply never existed.

The second she’d admitted her feelings - emotions he fully reciprocated but had suppressed - all those drawings and notes faded from the annuals of time because that painting- which had been loaned to the museum by a well meaning unrelated widow who thought the unique artwork would make for an interesting exhibit - turned out to be a butterfly which was inadvertently crushed. As the years rolled on, Inuyasha never needed to paint something to bring him comfort in the midst of crushing regret and loneliness.

Why would he?

Thanks to a merciful series of events, he woke up to his favorite smiling face every day for the rest of his life.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #inuyasha #inukag #writing #kagome #inukag fanfic

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Text

Ink (TMA Fanfic)

For TMA Gerry Week 2021 Day One

Pairings: Jonathan Sims/Gerry Keay/Martin Blackwood

Rating: T

Summary: Art’s how Gerry shows his love- a few snippets where he does exactly that. No powers-au, Gerry and Martin own a bookstore. Takes place in this universe but can be read alone!

He’s getting used to having people who want him around.

Gerry’s had friends, sure. Once he left the institute and began working odd jobs, he realized how much he genuinely enjoyed having company. He still isn’t the most social of creatures, but he does enjoy a night out with old coworkers who enjoy his stories and laugh at his jokes. But now, with Jon and Martin, they want him around all the time. Even after they started dating, even after he moved in, he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It never does, though. And Gerry, in spite of himself, begins to relax. Begins to feel at home.

He’s laying on the couch, scribbling in his notebook when Martin surprises him with a peck to the top of his head. “Whatcha drawing this time?” He was very excited when he heard Gerry liked to draw, immediately asking to see his notebook or anything he’d done. He’d only recently shown him some of his work; he knows Martin would never make him feel embarrassed, but, well. It’s another part of himself no one’s ever been interested in. Until now.

“Jon,” Gerry responds, leaning into the touch. It’s an amateurish attempt in his opinion, just a rough sketch. But he’s got the proportions down and he never forgets a face. Couldn’t forget, in Jon’s case.

“That’s…” Martin trails off, peering closer at the page. “That’s really good. You’ve even got him smiling!” It’s not that Jon never smiles; he smirks and laughs and snarks. But he’s managed to capture that rare, bright grin that makes Gerry’s heart skip a beat.

“Mhm.” Gerry nods slightly, pen tapping against his sketchpad. He turns around, seeing the naked fondness in Martin’s eyes and has a particularly wicked thought. “Y’know, this is how he looks when he’s watching you.”

Martin sputters, turns a lovely shade of red. “W-What? Really?”

“No,” Gerry smirks. “It’s the way he looks at the Admiral.” A groan and a light smack to the shoulder prove his joke is unappreciated. “Sorry, sorry! I’m sure he also looks at you that way-”

“You’re an ass.” Martin rolls his eyes but oh-so-gently picks up his hand, pausing to inspect the ink-stained fingers. “A very talented ass.” His mind blanks as Martin kisses them one by one.

Thoroughly distracted, he never gets around to finishing that sketch.

_______

Painting, as it turns out, is a lot harder than it looks. Still quite fun, though.

They’ve just found the perfect space- a little out of their price range, but Gerry’s got savings and Jon was willing to part with a bit himself. Martin fretted over his ‘meager contribution,’ as his savings were depleted in the final months of his mother’s care. Ridiculous that he would ever think his contribution meager, considering he’s the one who scouted for locations and did all of the paperwork and stayed up late, agonizing over their finances. Some days, Martin’s the only one keeping them sane. Gerry and Jon are due to remind him of that.

Which is why they’re handling the decorating. Jon claims to have no artistic talent, but he does have a knack for making places seem like home. There are boxes filled with knick knacks and rugs and pictures, all waiting to be hung somewhere once Jon’s finally settled on a layout. Gerry’s left with painting the walls, labeling the different sections in whatever way he sees fit. He’s currently at work on the horror section, painting a stylized eye above the tarp-covered bookshelf when he hears the sound of the bell; Martin must be back from the store. They’d run out of appropriately-sized nails and after a minor freak out, he’d been on his way.

“Find what you were looking for?” he calls, listening as Martin’s footsteps grow closer, the crinkle of bags in his hand. “Here to save the day?”

“I wouldn’t call it saving,” Martin snorted, setting them down on the ground with a thump. “But it’ll certainly help. That looks nice.”

Gerry pauses, considering his work. He really needs a darker green for this. “Thanks. It’s a work in progress.”

“I’m sure it’ll turn out great,” he murmurs distractedly, and Gerry turns to look back at him. The lines of his face are more pronounced than usual, as are the shadows under his eyes. A sure sign that the stress is getting to him. Gerry understands, and he’s not much for being particularly sappy but he does what he can to help.

“Hey,” he calls down to him from his ladder. “C’mere. Need your opinion on something.”

Martin sighs, but heeds the call. “What is it? You know I’m rubbish with this art stuff-”

“It’ll only take a second. Come closer.”

“What am I supposed to be looking at-”

“Closer.”

As Martin huffs and leans towards him, Gerry darts his paintbrush out, drawing the quickest of hearts on Martin’s cheek before he can pull away.

“Gerry!” Martin startles and his hand reaches up to wipe at his cheek.

“Don’t smear it, it’s a heart.” He pauses, going for his gravest voice. “Because I love you so much. I’ll be devastated if you ruin it.”

“I don’t appreciate that.” Martin sighs but drops his hand, his face softening already. Exasperation has never been paired with fondness, not when it’s aimed at Gerry. Another thing he’s starting to get used to.

“Shame. It looks good.”

Martin goes home with a heart on his other cheek as well. He looks ridiculous. Gerry loves it.

_________

When Jon’s particularly stressed, Gerry leaves him post-it notes.

Often he leaves before Gerry even wakes, so he’s got to do them the night before. A little cat here, a little caricature of Bouchard there. He leaves a variety, depending on his mood. Jon always gives him a kiss when he gets home, a soft ‘thank you for the note,’ and that’s all he needs, really, to keep doing it. He likes making Jon smile.

Martin’s gone grocery shopping and Jon’s pulling a late night again, so Gerry’s alone in the flat looking for something to do. There’s nothing on Netflix worth watching (or at least, worth watching by himself) and he’s not in the mood for his latest novel, so he decides he’s going to be productive, make a list of all the things he has to do this week. Jon’s always going on about lists, though he leaves them everywhere and never seems to accomplish everything on them. Maybe it’s the act of making them that’s relaxing. It’s worth a try.

He makes his way over to the second bedroom they (mostly Jon) use as an office. He’s sure Jon’s got a little notepad here that he can use, and he wants it to look as official as possible. He opens the left hand drawer but only finds Martin’s receipts, and on the right he finds a plain-looking notebook, a little worn with use. Maybe that’s what he uses-

Gerry opens it. Pauses. Blinks. Feels something heavy and thick form in his throat.

It’s his notes- his stupid little sketches, his ‘have a good day at work’s, his smiley-faces and little hearts. Each carefully placed on page after page with an accompanying date, neat and tidy, like a little scrapbook. Mum used to throw out his ‘doodles,’ as she called them, told him his time was better spent on actual art, but Jon’s kept all of them. Like they mattered. Like they were important. He sets it back down on the desk and just stands there, heart beating hard in his chest.

Gerry’s tearing up like some sort of moron so he’s distracted and doesn’t hear Jon come home, doesn’t hear his usual grumblings and sighs. Doesn’t hear him until Jon’s right behind him, startling him with a hand on his arm. “Sorry, I was just- Gerry, are you alright?”

Alright. Alright. It’s a word that doesn’t encompass everything he’s feeling. Wanted, embarrassed, a little overwhelmed. And so, so happy.

He turns around and grabs Jon in a fierce hug, overcome with affection and eager to hide his stupid tears as he squeezes Jon to his chest. “You’re adorable, you know that?” he says, peppering kisses to the top of his head despite Jon’s weak protestations. “Real fuckin’ cute.”

Jon melts into his embrace, even as he complains. “I’ve got no idea what you’re on about, Gerry,” he says into his chest, the words muffled. “You’re being absurd.” Jon’s just about the only person he knows that uses ‘absurd’ on a daily basis. It’s insufferable. Gerry loves it.

“Just let me hug you, you little ogre.”

_________

Sometimes, Gerry’s the one who’s got to be up early. Doctors appointments are a bitch, and after a brief scare last year, it’s important that he keep up with them. Martin helps him schedule, marking the appointments on the calendar with a bold black marker that can’t be missed.

This morning’s particularly brutal, with an eight o’clock appointment an hour’s commute away. Jon went to sleep at a reasonable hour last night and he needs the rest; Gerry knows if he wakes Martin, he wakes them both. Jon’s never been good at sleeping alone.

He’s stumbling blearily around the kitchen, about to put the kettle on when he notices it. On the table is a post-it note; he doesn’t remember leaving one for Jon last night, but he’d been rather tired, so who knows? Gerry putters around, fixing his tea and nibbling at toast when he finally spares it a glance.

It’s not for Jon. It’s for him.

Good luck at your appointment! It reads in Martin’s familiar, neat script. Accompanying it is a small doodle that has to be Jon’s; it’s not particularly good, but it clearly shows a little Gerry, makeup and all, with a plaster on his cheek and a heart over his head. It looks like Jon spent time on it. Spent time on some stupid little post it note to make Gerry smile.

He puts it in his pocket. Takes it out a few times in the waiting room, stares at it. Everything looks fine, the doctor says at the end of the appointment. He’s so lucky.

He’s so lucky.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29635833

#tma #the magnus archives #tmagerryweek2021 #gerry keay #gerard keay #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jongerrymartin #my writing

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cashmeremars · 4 years

Text

dating seulgi || k.sg

pairing: seulgi x fem!reader

summary: seulgi is your girlfriend, here’s how it goes....

genre: fluff, angst, domestic!au, idol x non-idol reader

word count: 3.1k (whoops)

a/n: basically my dream life

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

how you met:

you’ve always been very art-inclined but never did much with it but sketch and paint in your apartment, so your friends thought it would be a good idea to enrol you in an art class (without your knowledge)

At first you weren’t very fond of the idea because you never really shared your art with anyone, and going to an art class meant that you would have to share your art with a bunch of random strangers and a professional art teacher (which is super nerve-wracking)

your friends manage to convince you, but not without your constant protests

the day of the first art class comes and you decide that if you’re gonna be surrounded by strangers for the first time, you might as well look nice, especially if your art is gonna suck

you had approximately 5 minutes to gather your art supplies and get in your car before you were gonna be late (because you spent too much time on your appearance)

you manage to arrive to the art studio in time and find a seat next to a girl that looked all too familiar to you

as soon as you sit down you can feel her looking at you, when you look up, she whips her head back towards her canvas

The teacher walks in and starts teaching. your first assignment was to draw a fruit bowl but in the most abstract way possible

as everyone starts to unpack their supplies to draw, you realize that you left your sketching pencil at home (typical)

you panic for a little bit before you turn to the girl next to you

As you look at her, you realize just how pretty she is; her dark hair and bangs frame her pale face beautifully as her cheeks are dusted with faint strokes of pink that match her lips

She turns to glance at you and you realize that you’ve been staring at her for too long. She raises an eyebrow at you before you speak

“Hey, um, i was being really stupid this morning and forgot my pencil. Can i borrow one of yours?” you stammer as you look at her with wide eyes

she giggles softly to herself as her eyes crinkle into little crescent moons, she hands you one of her pencils and then extends her hand out to you

“I’m Seulgi, you must be new to this class?” she asks with a smile

You introduce yourself before answering her question “yeah, my friends kind of forced me to do this, i’m not sure if it’ll be fun or not”

“Well if you’re not having fun then you can just talk to me. I like keeping people company”

You smile at her softly before turning your head back to your canvas. For the rest of the class you and seulgi find each other speaking to each other, or stealing shy glances at one another

After an hour, everyone’s sketches were complete. You hear a gasp next to you and quickly turn your head towards Seulgi

“Oh my god, that’s amazing” Seulgi says as she gapes directly at your artwork

Your first instinct is to cover up your canvas, but seulgi’s gasp attracts the attention of your classmates as they all move towards you to look at your art

As you get showered with compliments you can’t help but blush since everyone's reactions were so unexpected

The commotion near your canvas calms down as everyone goes around admiring each other’s artwork

“You’re so cute when you’re shy” seulgi says quietly beside you

“What? O-oh thank you. You’re pretty too” you stutter

Everyone begins to pack their bags to leave. When you turn to hand seulgi her pencil, you realize that she’s gone

You being to pack your things more frantically so you can try to see if she’s still hanging around the building

As you rush out of the room you bump directly into seulgi with a huff, she turns around startled before she realizes that it’s just you

“Um, I just wanted to return your pencil. I didn’t know if you had left the building already” you say as you hand her the pencil

She reaches to grab it and your fingers caress each other gently before she looks up at you with a sweet smile

“Thank you, you art is amazing by the way. I wish I could draw like that” she says as she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear

“What? Seulgi, your art is quite literally the best I’ve seen in awhile. If anything, I should be jealous of you” you exclaim with wide eyes. It was ridiculous to think that Seulgi’s art was anything less than astonishing.

“Oh thank you. Hey, did you enjoy the class? I really hope you can come back” Seulgi says as she lightly taps your forearm

“Honestly, it was actually pretty enjoyable. I really loved being in an environment where everyone has the same goals. Especially with classmates as supportive as you” you reply

“Good, hopefully you’ll remember your pencil or anything. Not that I mind if you don’t” she jokes

“Please, I’ll definitely remember it next time” you reply with a chuckle

After a while of speaking, you and seulgi exchange numbers as you head towards your car

“Hey, have I seen you somewhere? You seem really familiar, but I don’t know how” you ask as you reach your car

Seulgi visibly hesitates for a bit before she replies “I’m an idol. Seulgi from Red Velvet” she replies with awkward jazz hands

Then it all hits you. You’d often see red velvet on TV and Seulgi was always the one that stood out to you the most

“Oh. Well I think that Seulgi from art class rolls off the tongue better” you reply with a wink.

She laughs before a car pulls up and honks at her

“Oh, my managers here. I’ll text you, if you want me to” she replies with shy eyes

“Of course I’d want you to text me. I’ll see you later Seulgi” you say before opening your car door. She waves at you before walking away and into the car. She rolls down the window before shouting out another goodbye with a wide smile and both of her hands waving

You roll your eyes at her playfully before waving again and heading into your car. You drive home with a smile stuck on your face as you remember her smile.

When your friends asked you about how the art class went, you told them everything that happened. They teased you for a bit but were also happy that you made a new friend that shares the same hobbies as you, although they insisted that you wanted her to be more than your friend

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

dates:

You and seulgi had been hanging out for the past 3 months (usually after your art classes) and she’d quickly become one of your closest friends over the course of those 3 months

You and seulgi were having an art-picnic at the park. You’d both decided it would be fun if you drew sketches of each other to your best abilities.

Obviously you tried really hard on your sketch of seulgi (which wasn’t all that hard considering how many times you’ve mindlessly doodled her, you’d basically memorized her facial features)

The wind was blowing your hair in your face but that didn’t stop you from completing your sketch of her

You look up at Seulgi to catch any more details that you might’ve missed and you notice that she’s smiling shyly as her face starts to blush while she draws you. You raise your eyebrow at her but she doesn’t notice.

A little while later she flicks her wrist upwards while semi-yelling “Done!” with a bright smile

You finish yours soon after with a smile. The drawing looks exactly like her; from the stray hair of her bangs to the tiny little freckles on her cheeks.

You both stare at each other for a bit before she motions towards your sketchbook, waiting for you to share yours first.

You hesitate before turning your sketchbook towards her. You close your eyes and wait for her reaction. You hear a gasp as she quickly takes the sketchbook out of your hands and examines it.

You open your eyes and look at her as she gapes at your drawing.

She looks up at you with bright eyes as she starts to gush at your drawing “this looks exactly like me” she says with a smile. “Do you mind if i keep it?” she asks quietly

“Uh. yeah, of course. I mean I drew it for you anyways” you say with a nervous chuckle

There’s a bit of silence as you watch her admire your drawing. Her eyes glimmer like the sun reflecting the ocean in a way that looks like she’s about to tear up

She suddenly looks up at you before she takes a deep breath. She puts your sketch down and holds hers up towards you. She smiles nervously at you before she turns her sketchbook towards you

There’s a nearly perfect portrait of you sketched onto the paper. She even managed to perfect your hair flying in the wind.

You grab the sketch from her in awe and begin to inspect it closely. Seulgi’s attention to detail never fails to surprise you

As you look even closer at the portrait, you notice a bit of handwriting at the bottom. You slightly squint your eyes at it before your jaw slowly starts to hang open

“I know this might seem a bit awkward but I really feel like I’ve known you my whole life. Please don’t hate me, but do you maybe kinda wanna go on a date sometime?” it says in scribbled handwriting

You dropped the sketch and engulfed her in a long loNG hug (and she started crying aw)

The rest of your picnic was just you guys staring at each other and giggling

Your first date lasted around 48 hours because Seulgi insisted that she takes you on a roadtrip to her favourite places (but you wouldn’t have asked for anything more)

You and seulgi will go on dates anywhere

You’ve gone bowling, arcading, canoeing, hiking, karaoke, and tree climbing (which was kind of weird but you guys had fun)

On your 100 day anniversary, seulgi takes you out on a date to the lake where you ride those cute swan boats

You then shared a red velvet cake (wink wink) before heading over to your apartment to binge movies

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

kisses:

Even though she’s your girlfriend, seulgi is still pretty shy about kissing you (which also makes you shy)

Your first kiss was actually on your first date

You were both sitting in the swan boats, pedaling lightly as you laughed along with each other. At one point you both fell into a comfortable silence

She was brushed a piece of hair behind your ear before leaning in slowly and capturing her soft lips with yours

It was a very wholesome kiss that left her blushing aggressively when you pulled away

You leaned back in for another kiss (which she obviously granted) and that was your first kiss !!!

Seulgi’s kisses depend on the situation, for example;

Good luck kisses - these are usually the kisses that you give seulgi before she has to go to rehearsal or days of the group’s comebacks. These kisses are always very sweet and long and filled with encouraging words between each one. You grab her face with both hands and plant a big kiss before whispering good luck and patting her cheek.

Goodnight kisses - these kisses usually happen at the end of each date when seulgi has to head back to the dorms. you guys usually spend at least 10 minutes saying goodbye to each other before one of you actually ends up leaving. These kisses are usually very soft and linger for much longer than they should, as they’re accompanied with soft whispers of how much you enjoyed the day.

Greeting kisses - these happen when you meet up before a date, before art class, or literally just anytime you see her. When you see each other, she usually engulfs you in a warm bear hug. They’re usually just soft little pecks, maybe three in a row and then you guys are off catching up on each other’s lives

Adoration kisses - these ones usually come out of nowhere. These happen on your dates when one of you gets so caught up in admiring the other that you kind of slip into your own world, where they’re the only other person that exists. You can’t think of anything but them. So you lean in and kiss her, again, again, and again, until you get lost in the moment.

Morning kisses - these happen at the crack of dawn. you're both still half asleep, but not enough to not acknowledge the others’ presence. Seulgi will usually wrap her arm across your chest without even realizing it, and you instinctively lean in closer. You both squint at each other, seulgi’s hair is all over her face and the sight always makes you laugh. Seulgi groans quietly as she stretches, her leg falls over yours and she nuzzles her head into your side. She lazily lands a kiss on your cheek and neck before slowly falling back asleep

Comforting kisses - the most heartbreaking kisses that you and seulgi share. Sometimes you’ll visit the dorm to hang out with seulgi and find her laying on her bed unmoving, and with shaky breaths. You quietly whisper her name and your heart breaks as she turns to look at you with red eyes and tear stained cheeks. You’d always heard about how tough it was being an idol, but seulgi never opened up to you about it because she wanted to be herself around you, not “Red Velvet’s Seulgi”, so seeing the effects of it firsthand was nothing less than shocking for you. You rush to hold her in your arms as she cries into your shoulder. You whisper that you’ll be there for her and that you’ll listen when she’s ready. Quietly rubbing her back, you plant soft kisses on her forehead and cheeks between your whispers as she slowly calms down.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

arguments:

You and seulgi rarely argue because you’re both mature adults that value communication

But when you do argue it can get pretty bad

You never really argue about petty things, so that’s why things can get pretty tense when you argue about serious things

The tension in the room when you guys argue is scary for anyone that happens to be in the room

You can quite literally feel how angry the two of you are

Your voices are always very tight and low when you guys are arguing and it would give anyone goosebumps

It gets to the point where you both just decide that you’re tired of talking in circles so someone usually storms out and goes home

You won’t speak to each other for a couple of days (like absolutely no contact at all)

Then one of you will text the other asking to come over and then y’all manage to sort it out, apologize, and go back to how things were before

Your relationship is ultimately very healthy so arguments aren’t exactly a huge problem for you

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

her love languages:

Words of affirmation - seulgi loves when you give her words of affirmation randomly throughout the day. Little compliments and random praise really makes her day. It could be about a new decoration she put up in her room, a dish she made, or even a hairstyle she tried out. The blush that graces her face is the most adorable part of it all, which only encourages you to compliment her more. Seulgi also loves to give you words of affirmation, but they always make her shy and flustered. It’s the cutest sight to see.

Quality time - you and seulgi are basically inseparable. You both always have so much to talk about and so much to do, that you never actually get bored of each other. However, both of you are extremely busy (seulgi more than you), so when you do get free time, you are ALWAYS together. Seeing her face after such a long time apart makes you never want to leave her again. You both spend an hour catching up on each other’s lives, and then you do some fun stuff together. This can include watching movies, learning dances together, biking, drawing, baking, etc. There’s nothing you two haven’t done.

Gifts - seulgi believes that the best gift you can give someone comes directly from the heart, so she’s a huge fan of home-made gifts. This can go from drawings/paintings she’s made of you, cute little bracelets with your nick-names or initials on them, little sweaters and hats she’s knitted for you. Whenever seulgi has to travel for promotions or tours, she’ll bring back cute little trinkets that she said reminded her of you. You have a whole collection of keychains, stuffed animals, and little postcards that seulgi has sent you while she was abroad. Seulgi’s favourite gifts from you are the ones that you’ve put a lot of thought into. For example, a handwritten love letter, tickets to a movie she’s been talking about, homemade little videos edits that you’ve collected of her, posters of her favourite art pieces, etc. In your relationship, thoughtful gifts mean more than expensive gifts.

Acts of service - your friendship and relationship literally started off with an act of service when she lent you her pencil. You two are constantly doing things for the other. Oh, you were planning to throw out the garbage? I did that an hour ago. You’re hungry? Great, I just finished making you a three course meal just for fun. There’s just something about surprising one another with finishing little tasks for each other each day that’s especially heartwarming. It’s not anything special, but it shows that you care about each other, and it also makes things less stressful for one another.

Physical touch - i feel like i’ve already established that seulgi lOVES physical affection. She would cuddle you for the rest of her life if she could. Although the two of you aren’t into PDA, when you’re alone you’re basically stuck to each other. You’re always holding hands, giving each other pecks, playing with each other’s hands, brushing each other’s hair, squeezing each other’s cheeks. You simply can’t get enough of each other and it’s adorable.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

masterlist

read before requesting

to do list

#seulgi fluff #kang seulgi fluff #red velvet fluff #red velvet imagine #red velvet smut #red velvet fanfic #red velvet fic #red velvet fanfiction #seulgi smut #seulgi fanfic #seulgi imagine #seulgi headcanon #red velvet headcanon #seulgi fanfiction #kang seulgi headcanon #kang seulgi fanfic #kang seulgi imagine #kang seulgi smut

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jjk-biased · 4 years

Text

jungkook x reader

requested by @atulipandarose (oooh soulmate/jungkook/one shot!! it's been big missing jk hours over here)

genre: fluff, soulmate au

words: 2.5k of dumb jungkook pining

warnings: none >< cussing here and there, also my first time writing just fluff so please be kind. unedited!!!

synopsis: jungkook never loved the idea of soulmates because he liked you and he wanted only you.

masterlist | events masterlist

There it was, the panging he felt in his heart even if he wasn’t the person in pain. As his chest throbbed, it was emotional pain he supposed, the song began to play in his head. He gritted his teeth, upset to have been reminded once again of the world he lived in.

The world had to be so stupid to believe in such nonsense. It was idiotic. They had to be so naive to rely on this whole scam - to the point where they even revolve their lives around it.

It isn’t true. It’s far-fetched. This whole soulmate system wasn’t reliable.

He lived in a world where the universe decided who each person’s other was. Soulmates existed. It was everywhere. And he didn’t like it one bit.

Whoever made the world like this had to be an utter idiot. Why would anyone allow something like this to take over people’s lives? This bullshit soulmate system gave people a false sense of hope that someone out of the millions and millions of people would be the only right person for you. That somehow, out of 7.5 billion people, someone would be the perfect yin to your yang.

It shouldn’t exist. Soulmates shouldn’t exist.

Come to think of it, how can the universe even be so sure that the person they have “destined” for him is the right one? And, honestly, who even gave the universe the right to choose for him?

Fuck the universe, Jeon Jungkook wanted to pick for himself.

He thought this whole sham was an inconvenience. Unlike almost every love-crazed and soulmate-addict person, he thought otherwise. Jungkook felt suffocated at the thought of being tied down to someone who he probably didn’t even like. He didn’t need whoever they had for him. He didn’t have to meet this so-called pre-destined love of his life to live happily.

Actually, he did. Or else he would forever be haunted by it. He’d go crazy.

People had different “soulmate indicators” -- basically something in their body that gave them a hint on whoever they were destined for. Namjoon, his writer friend, had a tattoo of his soulmate’s name on his collarbone. Jimin, the short friend, had a ring on his finger with the initials of his soulmate and would even change colors depending on the mood of his other. One part of Taehyung's hair is the same color as his soulmate’s, regardless if he tried to dye it along with his locks.

To say the least, theirs were easy to find, to discover - much more convenient than what the universe had in store for dear Jeon Jungkook. His had to be the most vague indicator of this whole scam.

A song.

The universe gave Jungkook one specific song that only he and his soulmate knew. Not a name, not a ring, not even a hair color. Just one fucking song.

Jeon Jungkook didn’t want to believe in this obviously fraudulent scheme that the universe set up. Despite his woes and resentment towards the system, Jungkook couldn’t exactly ignore it. The song, somehow sung by both him and the soulmate, always played in his head whenever he or the other would feel down. Somehow, it only played when any of them were sad. Not when they’re happy. Not when they’re angry. Not when they’re bored. Only when one or the other wasn’t feeling well.

But hey, at least he knew when it would start.

There would always be a pang in his chest before it began. It was akin to when the dog dies in the movie, or when someone relayed bad news, or when the character in a book had to leave. The weird feeling would be eased immediately as soon as the song played in their head. It would lull him to sleep, he guessed it held the same effect for whoever was on the other side, and would make him feel at home.

But he did not like this soulmate bullshit.

Not one bit.

Even if the song brought him great comfort. Even if it was the only thing he looked forward to when he had a bad day. Even if his soulmate’s honey-like voice blended well with his.

Wait shit, he should be hating this nonsense. Why did he just think that his soulmate sang nicely?

Fuck it. Forget what he thought. It didn’t matter anyway.

He had other things to think about anyway, especially how to gain the courage to ask his friend out.

Jungkook is currently and sadly a college student, who, aside from drowning in student debt, studies fine arts. He hopes to become a renowned artist someday, and in pursuing so, had to disobey his typical Asian parents’ wish for him to be called Dr. or Atty. someday.

Soulmate hatred aside, art had always been his passion. Despite growing into a family full of doctors, lawyers, and judges, he knew his heart belonged in fine arts. When his brother would play with the toy syringes and stethoscopes, he would be seen getting himself dirty with the washable markers. That love for coloring grew into something more, and so Jungkook decided he would become an artist in the future.

It was always so freeing for him to dabble in the blues and greens and create whatever he visualized in his mind. The pencil in his hand could easily convey the emotions he had trouble vocalizing. All of his troubles would go away faster than you can say worldwide handsome Jin-hyung with the aid of his drawing tablet. Everything about art just intrigued him. Art was easy. Art was comforting.

Art is where he felt free.

It wasn’t suffocating. Unlike his family that wanted him to be someone he couldn’t become and this soulmate shit that wanted to cuff him down to one specific person he doubts would even go well with him.

He wanted the soulmate system gone. For reasons that seemed justified to him and only him.

He could live without the incessant nagging of his very traditional family who wanted to sped things up. Jungkook would finally stop seeing some of his soulmate-less acquaintances miserable. He could finally go on with his sad day without the song that would automatically play in his head.

Wait… that last thought made him feel sad. Perhaps he would miss the song after all.

Anyway, and above all, he could finally court his cute friend without having to worry of the soulmate shabang.

Jungkook didn’t want whoever the universe paired him with. He wanted his cute seatmate and friend, Y/N Y/L/N.

Y/N Y/L/N. Your name was perfect.

The way your name rolled off his tongue felt just right. The way your nose would scrunch as you focused on sketching the naked dude who had to pose in front of everyone. The way you would tilt your head when the professor never made sense with his discussions.

Everything about you was just so… perfect.

You were kind-hearted, considerate, and intelligent. Your humor was unmatched and you were very enthusiastic when you conversed with Jungkook. From a small crush, his liking towards you grew into something he couldn’t exactly ignore. He liked you more than he liked to listen to the duet in his head.

Okay… scratch that. Maybe he did like his significant other’s singing voice. It eased his worries after a troublesome day. Admittedly, he had found comfort in it.

If only the universe allowed him to converse with whoever was on the other side, then maybe he didn’t have to loathe this system so much. He could’ve gotten a friend out of it, not a soulmate… but a friend.

Somehow, his thoughts wandered back to you. God, imagine if you were his soulmate. Jungkook would be more than happy if that happened. But he didn’t need the universe to act on his feelings for you. Jungkook will do something… He knew he had to do something about it. He just didn’t know when.

All of his thinking made Jungkook revert to airplane mode, so it was only then that he noticed you concernedly waving your hand in front of his face for a sign of consciousness. He found your scrunched up face painstakingly cute but holy shit… why are you so close? Please don’t be so close. Jungkook would malfunction if you decreased the space between you two even more.

“Are you okay, kook?” You luckily stepped back once he locked eyes with you.

Ah… that sweet voice of yours that could rival the comforting honey-like singing in his head.

“Y-yeah! Sorry, was spacing out,” Jungkook’s words were jumbled as he noticed he was staring at you like a gaping goldfish instead of answering like a normal person.

Your giggles rang throughout the room at his predicament. He crookedly grinned then laughed along. This must be heaven. Your happiness was always contagious and he’d often mirror the smile on your face whenever you were happy.

You made him feel giddy as much as he did on the days he finished his artworks. You made him complete.

But that damn soulmate thing had to ruin it.

How he wished you were his soulmate.

“I thought something happened to you, kook! Mr. Kang dismissed us some time ago but you were still frozen in your seat when everyone left. I was so… worried,” You chuckled, though quite red and hesitant at the end.

Well did that instigate the butterflies in Jungkook’s tummy.

“Concerned for me?” Jungkook teased, it was his go-to response because he couldn’t exactly flirt in straight sentences.

Your eyebrows furrowed but the pink hue became much more evident. Jungkook didn’t even mind the kick you gave him because he made you feel a bit flustered. Success :D

“Taehyungie’s been busy, hasn’t he?” You said, trying to change the subject so everyone could forget the embarrassment.

Taehyung, the theater kid and drama major, was friends with the both of you. He had been busy for the past month because their project was to create a series of plays to showcase to the school. Their show will be on Tuesday, days away from now.

Right! He could invite you to the play.

“He is… Hey,” You tilted your head and hummed when Jungkook’s voice sounded a bit unsure.

“Do you wanna go with me to the play?”

The red on your face and the shy nod you did made him swell in accomplishment. He can’t wait for Tuesday to come.

Fuck. He should’ve waited for Tuesday to come. Now it is Tuesday and he was too nervous to even stand in a five-meter radius near you. Slapping himself to forget the momentary faltering of his confidence, he shakily waited at the foot of your doorstep with an album in his hand.

You two bonded on music and he knew you well enough to know you’d rather have the CD of your favorite artist than some flower that would wilt after awhile. He was right. The beam on your face when he handed over the gift made him so happy that all his nerves were washed away. You always had a way to ease him, even if you weren’t aware.

“M’lady,” He jokingly tried to replicate a british accent as he offered his arm, waiting for you. And as you always would, you took his arm along with an accent-laced, “M’lord,”

Jungkook forgot his worries for a moment and it was always because of you.

You two sat near the stage to support Taehyung with his play. You two remembered him sharing that their play was about a soulmate-driven world with much more darker consequences. It was about the fictional hanahaki disease, he said.

And boy did it feel so sad. Taehyung acted so well, as if he was really losing his character’s best friend onstage. Jungkook peered at you for a moment and saw your eyes glisten as Taehyung’s cries grew louder and louder.

The story was really heartbreaking.

To the point where Jungkook felt the familiar pang on his chest and the song began to play in his head.

How peculiar. His soulmate was sad just as Taehyung’s scene played out. Perhaps they were in the same auditorium as well. But that was impossible. His soulmate was probably watching some soap opera.

Not that he minded. Jungkook had other things to think about, especially how to comfort you as your tears flowed down from the actors’ amazing performance. As slick as he could, he draped an arm around you and let you rest your head on his shoulder. His heart was beating faster than he could comprehend. Even more so, when you scooted closer to him.

Fuck. You were cuddling. Oh my god. Jungkook is gonna die out of happiness.

He had to play it cool though. Jungkook ignored the warmth in his chest and face as he rubbed your arm in consolation. He was surprised you reacted well. Nothing prepared him for what happened next.

You were humming.

You were humming his song.

hOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT YOU WERE HUMMING HIS SONG.

You… were his soulmate.

Okay universe… Unfuck you, Jungkook guessed. Apparently the universe was on his side after all… All he had to do was somehow tell you…

Jungkook, his face now an uncontrollable red, nervously turned towards you and successfully got your undivided attention. God, he could die then and there. Gathering courage from glob knows where, he smiled and sang the first line of the song.

Universe might have been laughing at him for suddenly changing his views. Jungkook would’ve laughed at himself if he found out the double-back on his opinion. But this was you.

You and your cute nose scrunch, you and your adorable head tilt, you and your witty comebacks.

This was you.

Everything about you was perfect, and he couldn’t believe that the universe liked him enough to grace him with you as his soulmate.

何故こんなにも涙が溢れるの

[Naze, konna ni mo namida ga afureru no]

Your eyes widened as he sang the song that felt like home to the both of you.

ねぇ側にいてそして笑ってよ

[Nee, soba ni ite soshite waratte yo]

You joined in on the singing and everything just made sense. None of the leaving people in the auditorium mattered at the moment.

君のいない未来は色のない世界

[Kimi no inai mirai wa iro no nai sekai]

Jungkook was so happy. It seemed like the world was brighter than before.

モノクロで冷たい

[Monokuro de tsumetai]

He shouldn’t have doubted the universe’s plan. Everything was better with you.

見つめてる暗闇さえも so beautiful

[Mitsumeteru kurayami sae mo so beautiful]

You smiled shyly as your soft honey-like voice harmonized with him.

僕を信じてほしい

[Boku wo shinjite hoshii]

Jungkook’s smile grew wider, encasing your delicate hand in his.

まっすぐに君だけを見て

[Massugu ni kimi dake wo mite]

For once in his life, he was happy and it was better because he was happy with you.

どこにも行かないように

[Doko ni mo ikanai you ni]

You two shared a kiss that afternoon, on a Tuesday, at the university’s auditorium.

permanent taglist: @luvinseokjinnie @97faerie @amoreguk @bbyjoonies @borednia @tanumiki @taescake

[Extra]

Jungkook: Hey Taehyung! Congrats, that play was amazing

Taehyung: ...yeah… but why did you two make out when I died onstage?

You: ahahaha bye.

#bts x reader #bts #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #soulmate au #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #your eyes they tell

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ryuichirou · 4 years

Note

Okay I kind of want that essay now on Levi being a cutie just so I can see the manga caps 🥺 hope you’re having a good day! ❤️❤️ your art is stunning btw 💕

Thank you for your kind words about my art!

You want an essay – you get an essay! ❤️ Thank you very much for being interested in my long posts! And I’m sorry it took so long.

So yeah, why I think Levi is cute and how manga canon supports this claim.

This argument might sound subjective, but I feel like Levi resembles a cat a lot.

His personality, his movements, his body proportions: he is muscular and very strong and agile, but he also looks rather slim and almost elegant when he moves. He’s very fast and extremely strong, but he is also very small.

He looks aloof at first, but he likes talking to others from time to time. Sometimes he’s even too talkative. You can notice this type of behaviour in cats too from time to time, when they’re just present in a room just because all the people gathered there. That’s a silly comparison, but facts about Levi here can stay anyway.

I feel like people usually see him as someone who’s strict and somehow aggressive, but this isn’t quite the case. He’s caring, he’s tender, he often thinks about how people around him feel both physically and mentally.

Sometimes he doesn’t know how to express that he cares, but those close to him just know that, and they know what he’s trying to say.

I love this scene for a lot of reasons, but Erwin’s little laugh as a reply to Levi’s threat is my best thing ever: he KNOWS what Levi’s trying to say and that Levi’s worried.

Ok this is a very sad start of the post lol, let’s continue with something more fun.

To me, Levi’s constant bitching also feels very cute. Especially the fact that he is self aware about this side of him and he straight up just says “yeah I’m just being a jerk, let me bitch a little ok, I just have to whine this is my ritual”.

And boy o boy does he bitch A LOT.

vvvv This one is also cute because he made a silly joke about Erwin just to start a conversation with Eren, he legit tried to cheer him up a little. Adorable. Levi always knows when Eren feels down, he’s very sensitive to his mood and pays great attention to it.

Ok so this is where we’re entering the Zevi Territory. I’m sorry, but his chemistry with Zeke is something else, they flirt so much it’s almost scary.

As we all know, they bicker quite often, since I think Zeke is the only person who actually reacts to Levi’s snarky little remarks. That’s the first time in a while when someone’s able to do that + Levi can’t just beat the shit out of Zeke for that, so that’s why we have so many dialogues. What Zeke also does is teasing Levi to the point when he just MUMBLES CUTELY AND QUIETLY TO HIMSELF.

What was this response, Levi?? You know damn well you didn’t have to answer that stupid remark about being popular, but you did anyway huh. Because you got shy, you cutie. How do I know this is a cute reply? Because the Japanese sentence was noted to sound surprisingly cute, he used a cute wording there, so even Levi’s Japanese fans got surprised.

And as far as I know this isn’t the only time when Levi mumbled something quietly while being kind of embarrassed. When I was trying to find something on some kind of jpn forums/blog sites I’ve seen people mention that he uses surprisingly cute wording in these situations, but I can’t explain anything here – I don’t know Japanese lol and used a translator for the article. You can check it out yourself, it’s number 8 on this list. My point is that it’s one of separate reasons why fans love Levi, so my guess is that it’s at least somewhat important to his character.

Moving on to his appearance. After rereading the manga we realized that Levi’s face is actually very… round-ish. He doesn’t have a strong chin, his nose is small, his lips are small. He looks exactly like his mother.

And I have to mention the most obvious thing. We all know that Levi is smol, but when you actually look at him you start to realize HOW SMOL HE ACTUALLY IS. Sometimes I think that Maybe I’m exaggerating, but then I open the manga and see this.

Guys.

He’s very small (look at the level of their shoulders).

And what I love about is that it gets acknowledged, but this isn’t his only personality trait. It’s very subtle, but it’s there. Isayama LOVES to tease him about it, and this is always so funny to me. When Levi is just too small to fit into the frame with the rest of the gang, it’s so cute and hilarious at the same time. This happens quite often, I’m sure there is a compilation of these panels somewhere lol. If there isn’t, I need to make it...

And this…

“H o w d a r e y o u”

And yes I HAVE to mention the clown incident. I just have to. The man was straight up mistaken for a child. Once again, he’s being cutely teased by the manga and I love it lol.

And when Levi turned around, the clown CONTINUED to treat him as a child even after seeing his face. This situation at least shows that Levi’s face is not old-looking.

Isayama also LOVES showing how small and cute Levi is on the official art as well.

And yeah I know, zevi territory again, but please look at how PATIENT Levi is being here. He just lets Zeke backhug him. And of course he’s looking at the camera like he’s in “the Office”, but to me this situation has such a strong “being bread is fine actually, I don’t care anymore” vibe lol. I love this image so much. It also shows that Isayama doesn’t treat Levi (or any other character) seriously and that he most likely has tons of fun while writing their arguments.

Speaking of Isayama, let’s look at his sketches of Levi.

You know what I’m going to say, right? LOOK HOW CUTE-

But seriously though, I know Yams doesn’t have a reputation of the best artist out there, but I think these sketches are a good example of how he sees Levi’s character. He’s being rather passive, patient, mumbling something and just chilling. In one word, being cute.

What I also wanted to mention is Isayama’s remarks on how he created Levi from that Shingeki no Kyojin Encyclopedia thingie. I don’t know what word he used in the original (if somebody knows, please feel free to throw it at me, I’m interested; my guess is 綺麗, kirei), but I think that the word “pretty” is very specific. They used neither “beautiful” nor “handsome”, they chose PRETTY.

So yeah, I think that Isayama views him as grumpy old man who is also a cute little bean, and he never forgets about it.

Just… ugh look at it. What kind of baby sling situation is this. AND I KNOW I ALREADY MADE THAT JOKE D:

In conclusion, yes, of course Levi is strong and important and stoic (not all the time though lol), I know he has muscles, I know he seems intimidating to other characters sometimes, and I love him to death, but I don’t think taking him too seriously is a good thing. Taking any character too seriously isn’t a good thing.

Isayama doesn’t hide that he created a pretty smol boi character when he first drew Levi, he doesn’t hide that he thinks Levi is adorable. And funny. If Isayama wanted to change the way he drew Levi, he would’ve already done it a long time ago. He knows how to draw manly man faces.

And I love it about Levi. I wouldn’t want him to be any other way.

#replies #levi ackerman #snk meta

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vargaslovinghours · 4 years

Text

Aight well, since I’m pretty sure I’m most of the way out of Vargas brainspace this time around, have some unpublished/unfinished sketches and doodles! Prepare for lots of extremely rough concepts and possibly some walls of text lol

Veryyyy early sketch, the first unfinished one actually! You can tell how early since I hadn’t chilled out on the yarn yet lol. Was looking around for music and while I didn’t add it to the playlist, the male cover of Aishite, Aishite, Aishite is always going to have a special place in the inspiration part of my brain

They be doing homework. I’m so weak to domestic stuff, and every scene with Todd delivers so much, bless him

I threw around a couple card ideas, I’m still undecided as to which one I like better, but I decided pretty early on Jack of Spades and King of Hearts - the King of Hearts is known as the Suicide King which - well. And I’ve always seen the Spade as being like a stabbed version of the Heart lol, and since it’s black it’s the opposite in aesthetic. They both have a pretty dark aesthetic, so if one was going to get red, it seemed right to be Scriabin

A tiny tiny One Way Mirror doodle I didn’t have room for anywhere else. Just turn around!

I have a few iPod scribbles for late-night or early-morning ideas where I couldn’t quickly get to my notebook. This one was right after I woke up from a Vargas dream, pretty much the whole cast was there! This frame in particular stuck out to me because of the composition, it was a fully animated music video and they all had that two-frame back and forth poppy kind of motion, thus all the action lines lol

Don’t trust him with pointy things. I really like how the last one turned out other than his hand

A particularly stupid late-night idea lol

I may or may not have written a kiss scene into the TGWDLM crossover, I swear I didn’t do it on purpose

More of the TGWDLM crossover, you can see I got about 1/4th of the way through this one and then gave up lol. I actually had almost a half page of concept sketches for if Scriabin got Apotheosized - since I use eye colour to signify who’s been hiveminded, how was that supposed to work with Scriabin? Blue scars were pretty prevalent, so how about that? The idea of the two of them being on the same page and actively working together was rather intimidating as well, but it all didn’t go very far since that wasn’t the concept I wanted to explore

The idea of them going to a Cat Cafe popped into my head and I had to quickly scribble it down and then I remembered I don’t know how to draw cats lol. I drew Scriabin freaking out first, a cat among cats lol, and a cat trying to play with the yarn in his hair because cliche

The prospect of them going to the doctor’s just delights me so much. I actually made a little minicomic about it but I never finished it. I’d want to redo it to do it justice because I’m just so excited about them having to deal with this situation lol

An extremely absent-minded doodle lol, I was thinking about Edgar’s watch of all things. I think I did draw this on a Wednesday

Was trying a few pose references to finish digitally and somehow this spaghetti sketch was the best of the three lol. They look like theatre masks

Oh very cursed! Very cursed! Thanks me, how very cursed. I had to tho, this colour is called “Liar’s fave” and it somehow perfectly matches how I’ve been drawing his glasses. I think I prefer the censored version tho haha. Also surprisingly not a TGWDLM reference, I just wanted to draw him with weird coloured eyes

I was thinking about the weird, twisted ways Edgar gets “compliments”, especially from Nny, and the line “Anything in the right context can sound sweet. Isn’t that right, my dear?” accompanied by this pose made it’s way through my head. I didn’t expect the perspective lol

Oh my gosh, a main character, how’d that happen

I wanted to try grawlix swearing and had the idea of Scriabin buying stuff that neither of them would use just to piss off Edgar, so 👏 Also “taking a coat partway off” is one of my favourite kinds of poses and I so rarely draw it! Thanks, Edgar

A combination of thinking about how often they kiss (ironically about how Edgar was Scriabin’s first real kiss After, but this is almost certainly Before?? I dunno) and bruising. I only wanted the second one but my hand was not behaving >:| It did at least give me the image of Edgar’s tears falling through Scriabin’s fingers

He’s never had real eyes before, would he remember to blink if he started focusing really hard? I’ve had eyes my whole life and I forget to blink sometimes

Slowly but surely improving on his wings. I finally realized what they remind me of - hands! I guess that seems obvious lol, demon wings are usually based off bats, aren’t they? Just goes to show how many wings I’ve been basing off arms rather than hands. Probably doesn’t help that I usually draw fingers with two joints instead of three haha. Starting to understand how to keep the silhouette clean while still adding lots and lots of yarn as well, yay

Is he being sarcastic or saying it in earnest? That’s the fun part, you never know! Scriabin being vague on whether he’s being nice or rubbing salt in the wound has appealed to me for quite a good while. I think he less skirts the line and more falls on both sides simultaneously haha

Yet more wings! I liked the idea of each of them having a distinct silhouette but Scriabin still posing behind Edgar, so you can tell his wings are his own but they’re still muddling Edgar’s outline

So that’s most of my unfinished sketches and doodles that I couldn’t figure out where else to put! From early June up through September, what a ride ♪

#💟#Doodles #Art #Sketchdump #Scriabin #Edgar #Todd #Nny #Devi #No blood this time around but some light abuse and light tenderness throughout #Since I talked about each one in the body text the tags are gonna be so spoiler-free this time around lol #I talked about a few of them phrased in a way like I want to finish them - I do it just might take a while #I'm mostly just done /actively/ drawing Vargas - I'm sure I'll still do the occasional doodle and I have a couple projects yet to finish #But even with just my backlog I'd have enough Vargas doodles to keep my queue running for months lol - so no new ones if I can help it #Speaking of the backlog some highlights include: multiple instances of Moth Edgar - at least one Spongebob meme lol -#Honestly just a lot of memes lol I have like ten or so lol - a BG/domestic object(s) idea - a couple more Minecraft shitposts -#And a whole goshdang voice-acted shitpost I just really love shitposts lol #I have no idea if/when/how many I'll get to but I still love them all lol #Anyhow - hope these are enjoyable uwu Even if I didn't finish them all I do still like them #Also I can't even imagine how this is gonna look on mobile lol soz

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kitkat1003 · 3 years

Text

On the issue of Mortality

AO3 Link

MK chose to be mortal, to be vulnerable, for the time being, and Monkey King is fine with that.

On the surface, at least. Now he has a successor, one that he likes, and he’s vulnerable????

Yeah, he’s never going to sleep easy again.

(Or, 11 chapters through season 1 about Monkey King, and anxiety his successor gives him. Who knew being a dad teacher would be so hard?)

Chapter 1: Picking a successor

(Or “Look, I’m gonna come clean. Um...I’ve been kinda watching you”)

When Sun Wukong—the Monkey King—decides he needs a successor, it isn’t an easy decision. For one, he refuses to admit why. Because that would mean confronting it all and he doesn’t want to.

He needs a successor because he wants one. Who doesn’t want to retire? It’s not like he’s spent hundreds of thousands of years in technical retirement, waiting for the Demon Bull King to return. No, he’s been...super busy. Yeah. Turning Flower Fruit Mountain into a paradise has totally taken him…forever, and, like, he’s got lots of stuff to do. He watches TV, once humans get electricity figured out. Gets a computer too, once those things start popping up. He gets a lawyer or two, yknow, keeping up with the times.

He’s...super busy. He definitely deserves a retirement.

So all that’s left is find a successor. Easy, right?

Well....

He actually starts looking when he hears whispers that the Demon Bull family is starting to get close to figuring out how to lift his staff. So about a hundred years before Demon Bull King actually escapes.

He finds a few kids he thinks might work, but nothing happens, anyway, so there’s no point in interrupting their boring normal lives for nothing. Besides, he doesn’t really see any of them with the spark of...something that he wants in his successor in any of them

He watches them grow. Child to teen to adult, he watches, and then he leaves before they get too old because he doesn’t want to see the headstones.

He doesn’t understand why they have to be human. Why they have to be mortal. Why they have to be able to die.

Why he has to watch them die.

Years and years pass. He gets lax, when looking for a successor. Lax when it comes to keeping an eye on the Demon Bull family.

He does, on occasion, watch the town where his staff is. It’s a pretty populace place, always buzzing with some sort of activity, which is both fun and boring.

One night, he watches a kid—no older than 13, he thinks, since he’s gotten used to watching humans grow and can gauge it pretty well—sprint down the street in the rain, wearing nothing but a ratty old hoodie, a shirt, shorts, torn up shoes, and a headband so dirty that even he can’t discern the original color.

There are three other figures chasing him, and he ducks into an alley as they sprint past. Monkey King watches as the kid settles down, sitting in the alley, and pulling something out from beneath his hoodie.

A puppy.

“Hey there, little guy,” the kid’s voice is soft, and he scritches the tiny pup behind the ears. “Sorry I couldn’t get your siblings, but they’d already been thrown in the lake—” the look on the kid’s face is nothing short of heartbreaking.

Monkey King has plans for the group of thugs he saw earlier, if that’s what they were doing. Humans.

“But hey, managed to save you, huh? I’ll bring you to a shelter in the morning. Someone will take you home and you’ll get loved to death.” Monkey King rolls his eyes at the saccharine display, but he wonders.

There isn’t a lot of crime in this city, with its advancements. What’s a kid doing outside this late at night?

“I’d take you home with me, but mine’s more of a hovel than a place to live. You can still see it, though! C’mon,” the kid gets up, stumbling a little, and Monkey King notices that he’s favoring one leg, that the elbow of one of the sleeve’s of his hoodie is wet.

He follows.

The kid’s house is literally a shack made of a metal sheet wedged between an alley wall. There’s a ‘bench’ that’s a slab of rock placed on top of more rocks, where a well loved sketchbook sits.

The kid sits on the bench, setting the puppy down beside him as he flips open his sketchbook.

“I’m gonna draw you, so I don’t forget, kay?” He pats the pup on the head, and then, using the smallest, most worn down pencil Monkey King has ever seen, he slowly carves out the puppy’s features, getting the soft tones of fur. He keeps squinting, but Monkey King thinks that’s because all he has is the light of the lamppost for his vision.

This kid...is pretty darn good.

Monkey King watches for way longer than he would like to admit, and then watches as the kid pulls out a very worn blanket-substitute, curling around the puppy beneath it.

He frowns, but isn’t sure what to do about it.

So he leaves, and makes sure those thugs learn a thing or two about treating animals with respect.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

This kid just keeps popping up in Monkey King’s peripherals.

He likes to people watch, and the kid will just appear from nowhere. He’ll be running down the street, hanging out with this girl who looks about 3 economic classes above him. They’ll go to the arcade and play for hours, and she’ll pay for practically everything.

He decides he likes her, if she’s nice enough to do that for the kid. Plus, he feels a familiar energy coming off of her, something he trusts.

They typically end their day at a noodle shop. Pigsy’s? The kid always pays there, with coins of various sizes. The girl, when the kid isn’t looking, will slip the cook some more money. They get steaming hot bowls of ramen, harass the cook, and eventually get half chased out, laughing all the while.

“You know you can stay with me, right?” The girl says, one day, when Monkey King is people watching (read: eavesdropping on their conversation. It’s like his new favorite TV show, at this point). Kid rolls his eyes.

“Mei, c’mon, your relationship with your folks is as strained as mine! I wouldn’t want you to end up like me. Besides, I’m fine!” he insists with the grin Monkey King has grown accustomed to seeing on Kid’s face.

The information Monkey King gains from those two sentences is certainly something, and he ponders on Mei, the girl who spends her days as far away from home as possible.

Mei frowns.

“You still won’t show me where you’re staying. Or explain why your clothes are all torn up!” She pokes him in the chest, and the Kid shrugs.

“Cause you wouldn’t like either of those things! I can take care of myself! Promise.” He rocks back and forth on his feet, all smiles.

Mei fixes him with a glare, before she sighs, relenting. “Fine. But, if you won’t take my hospitality, you get my undying loyalty and free stuff!” She whips out a brand new red winter coat.

Kid takes it slowly.

“It’s getting colder out!” She explains. “And red just isn’t my color, you know?”

Kid slowly pulls the jacket against his chest, like he doesn’t know what to do with it, and then he smiles. This one is smaller. Less performative. Monkey King didn’t realize that he’d been watching the kid to be able to tell the difference, but it’s not too hard to see. Kid uses big smiles like a cloak, to hide what’s underneath. The smaller ones-those are like the slivers of sunlight shooting out from an eclipse. Wukong finds he prefers the smaller ones.

Kid wraps his arm around Mei’s shoulders.

“Thanks, Mei.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The days get colder, and Kid is still in that shack. Monkey King finds out that Kid doesn’t steal for money. Instead, he does little odd jobs for short change, and then looks for coins people have dropped. Apparently, the city’s wealth has made people more loose with their change.

Mei drags him to warm places as often as she can, but apparently this time of year she has a lot of responsibilities, or “social events,” as she calls them, so she can’t be around as much.

Kid doesn’t seem to mind, shivering through the nights, curling himself as tight as possible with that jacket and shitty blanket, and Monkey King doesn’t know why he even cares, but...

He’s not cruel. It isn’t pleasant to watch a kid suffer.

And then, Kid gets sick. Like, delirious, fever sick, and he’s not getting better.

And Monkey King has told himself, a million times, that he would let Kid figure his own life out, but he ends up picking Kid up anyway, depositing him at the ever familiar noodle shop.

The cook drags the boy inside, and Monkey King doesn’t see Kid on the streets after that.

Good.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kid starts working at the noodle shop, apparently, and he lives above the shop. Slowly, he accrues random objects. Sketchbooks, games, figurines, Monkey King comics? He watches the show near religiously, and Monkey King is both flattered and weirded out.

A super fan, huh? Okay then.

And when he isn’t working, or watching “Monkey King: The Animated Series,” or reading Monkey King comics, he’s begging the resident bookworm, Tang, for stories, which he then sketches out.

Monkey King actually goes through the sketchbook once, when Kid’s asleep. Yup, Kid’s really, really good at this. Monkey King actually thinks about stealing a drawing, but that would be both very obvious and also stupid.

So he lets it go. He ought to look for his successor, anyway. He hears the Demon Bull family is getting close.

He leaves Kid to his life and moves on to his own.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He can’t find a successor. Somehow. It’s like every person in this city (and it would have to be in this city, because you need to be close to the staff in some regard if you want to have a connection with it. Being born near it, living near it-makes it easy for the energy, the chi, to find you) doesn’t want anything to do with hero business. The kids he considers are too small, the adults too...boring.

And he’s getting pretty frustrated here, because he thinks he might just have to fight the Demon Bull King all over again, which, ugh.

And then, it clicks.

He’s watching Kid drive around town, delivering orders, and somehow the kid steers towards the construction site. Toward the staff.

Of course.

God, it was literally staring him in the face. He feels kind of dumb, now that it hits him, but whatever. Not like anyone’s around to tease him about it.

He watches Kid waltz towards danger, music in his headphones too loud to notice the literal demon family, until Kid opens his eyes and sees the whole demon army there, and hoo boy, is this comical.

Monkey King wonders if they’ll succeed this time, in lifting his staff. They certainly seem confident. He’s kind of curious, kind of bored. The whole ‘take our rightful place as rulers of this world’ schtick is super annoying, and Red Son’s voice is grating.

The light show is pretty nice, though, and then.

Then.

Demon Bull King’s a lot smaller than he remembers, but his voice is the same, as is his attitude. Monkey King can feel Kid shaking and takes a quick sweep of the area. Seems his successor is right above Red Son.

He smirks to himself, not that anyone can see considering he’s a bird right now.

This is going to be hilarious.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Kid touches the staff, Monkey King isn’t prepared for the feeling he gets.

It’s like he’s been the single Sun in an endless galaxy, surrounded by darkness, when suddenly another star appears from nowhere, throwing him into orbit with it. The galaxy shifts, the light doubles, the darkness recedes.

Monkey King’s own center, his sun, feels red hot, warm, and tempered by years of life, with a spark of yellow and white in its center. Kid’s is bright, brilliant golden yellow, more white than any color, bursting with energy.

That energy gets put to work pretty quickly, as the Kid fumbles his way out of the demon’s den, and Monkey King soars after him, watching the escape with a smile.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He doesn’t properly meet Kid until he gets shot all the way to Flower Fruit mountain. After Kid escapes Red Son, he panickedly tells his friends what’s going on and tries to get there on his own.

Well, all the way is a bit much. Maybe Monkey King had to catch Kid and fly him there, because Kid was looking half dead and Monkey King was a little worried, but that’s beside the point. He leaves Kid on the shore, and follows him when Kid gets up.

He isn’t expecting the frustration, when he can’t be found, but he supposes that’s his cue.

Getting stepped on is unpleasant. Guess Kid doesn’t like bugs.

God, the look on Kid’s face, when it hits him that Monkey King’s been watching him! If he could frame a memory, that would be it. Hoo, boy, is that going to be replaying in his head for a while. Kid seems more bewildered than anything else, and the idea of being Monkey King’s successor doesn’t sit well with him.

Which, Monkey King doesn’t get that. Who wouldn’t want to be taught by him?

But maybe he overestimates the kid’s spunk, his confidence, because waving off his worries doesn’t spur him on; rather, it seems to deflate him.

Ugh. Why is being a teacher difficult? It’s not like his teacher had a hard time with him, right?

Distantly, he thinks he can hear his master shouting at him. He hops off his cloud, says just the right thing to get Kid pumped up, and watches him race off.

He considers just sitting back and not watching, but then, that wouldn’t be any fun, would it?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He isn’t actually sure what having a successor means, really. How much their powers, their lives, would mirror his own. A part of him was terrified by the prospect—could he even be known as anything special, if he was no longer one of a kind?

But there’s also something quite exciting about this. The idea that your life is being rewritten, the story unfinished and yet also repeating itself. The Demon Bull King is on the loose, with his army and family, trying to take over the world.

And only one person can stop him. The Monkey King.

Kid’s powers are volatile. He can feel them flare up from time to time, wildly flickering out of control. A lack of self confidence, that might be causing it. A part of him is annoyed by that, a part of him is relieved. Far better to have to teach someone to believe in themselves than teach them humility. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t learned that latter lesson all the way yet.

Kid vanishes into the Demon Bull King’s chest, where the staff lies, and for a moment, the new sun vanishes. Monkey King feels the cold rush of space in its absence, and feels panic, even though he’s only known this warmth for a few hours.

But then, it bursts back into existence, as a familiar stone drops from the Demon Bull King’s chest, cracking open, and, well, it’s history being written the same way over and over again, isn’t it?

Kid has a flair for silliness, childish maneuvers. He likes to have fun, and that’s the best part of the powers they share. To be invincible, to have fun while saving the day.

It’s a repeat, until, well, it isn’t.

The blow Kid takes makes Monkey King wince. The body becoming invulnerable takes time. It doesn’t just immediately show up. Every second, Kid’s body is absorbing and meshing with the powers thrust upon it, but that doesn’t mean getting hit a mile by a guy twenty times your size doesn’t still hurt, at this point.

But Monkey King knows this is what has to happen. Because heroes aren’t heroes if they never feel pain, never get hit.

Heroes, he thinks, as Kid tears himself from the wall he’s embedded in, as Kid stands, eyes ablaze, are heroes when they get hit and they get back up.

And Kid sure as hell does.

“I’m the Monkey Kid!” He shouts, like a battle cry, like a challenge, and Monkey King smirks. Monkey Kid, huh? It suits him. And then, Kid slams the staff on the ground, and the world shifts.

A part of him is kind of jealous. How come he never got a mech?! Has that been a thing this entire time? Another part is in awe of this Kid’s creativity, ability, at such a young age.

And seeing DBK get trounced again certainly keeps the jealous part of him quiet.

Kid’s got a nice group of friends. Reminds him of his journey days, him and a rag tag group of idiots going around wreaking havoc and learning moral lessons at the end of it. He’s glad Kid isn’t alone or on the streets anymore. A strong foundation leads to a stronger ability to grow.

Well, he’d better get some sort of training regimen ready. Or, at least, start thinking of some things to do to train this kid. He’s sure at some point Kid is going to bug him for a lesson or two.

Somehow, the thought doesn’t bother him as much as he thinks it should.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid mk #monkie kid monkey king #sun wukong #kitkat1003 #monkie kid mei

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froggy-frogz · 2 years

Note

Hiii! i hope you're doing well, can i get a inside job match up? this is actually my first.

5'0, dark auburn hair. 5 ear piercings, two tattoos on both of my middle finger, medium 90's natural blowout hair. Leg and thighs bruises and scars, pale skin and dark brown eyes. Pansexual and go by any pronouns.

So like the surface level when like no one knows me too much, i have this meek almost quiet demeanor, i would seem like someone who would blend in easily in a crowd and just keep to herself while generally i am very friendly and approachable, it's terribly hard to get real close to.

But when people do get to know me, while i still have quiet, friendly facade - it would be fun, i'm individualistic and caring to those who like are around me, i tend to do stupid things like not give up, yet people say i'm often unpredictable so that means there is never a boring day with me? Like i'll be knocking at your doorstep and wake you up at 3:00 am "we gotta fucking hide the dead body." Or drunk texting you, late at night. I could be assertive n straightforward when i needed to and tend to fall victim to peer pressure at certain points, i find it difficult at times to say no, especially to the people who i trust and withdraw from social situations. Though, i don't trust people that easily even they are my loved ones - i always stay cautious, always keep things in check. Whenever someone joking flirts with me, i'll be either flustered mess, try to avoid the situation, saying "shut up, you're not funny" or flirt back.

Risk-taker, always tired, love sleeping and can sleep for longer hours or less, drains out when it comes to social interactions, studious, can be blunt, obsessive personality when it comes to engaging in new hobbies or newfound interests. Curiosity gets the best of me. So, i'm very introverted.

In my free time, i would do detail drawing like messy sketches of machinery, skeletons, human anatomy, flowers and dead animals: possibly gorey, but using soft and elegant colors, i'm also a bookworm. Crosswords, play guitar, spend time listening to podcast it be either, murder + crime podcast or philosophy. Baking, i love to bake and make coffee for people, so i'll probably bring your fav coffee in the next morning.

☆ In a relantionship, my love language would be word affrims, physical touch, act of service. I would focus n list down one of the sweetest and little things about you and shoulder, collarbone kisses with your neck filled with my lipstick <3. Holding hands while, sleeping on you when cuddling, would whisper cheesy sweetnothings and praises like;You're so sweet, i wonder if you melt me entirely with those lips." But if you're not comfortable with physical touch, TELL ME. I would barge in your door and be your maid 24/7, dirty clothes? Laundry! Messy room? I'll clean it for you. I would love to help you except, cooking + math. I'm really bad at those two things. Whenever we both go out, it be at the park, some fancy dinner, arcade, library and concert in first dates, but i like to hangout at the abandoned areas where i could see the city with my s/o.

A/N: You definitely gave me a lot to work with! Sorry again that this took me a bit of time, butttt I hope you enjoy! Also keep in mind that this is again my opinion :,)

I’d match you with…

Reagan!

This took me a second to write because of all the information about you! But after some thinking I figured that the best person for you, would be Reagan. Normally, I think she’d want someone like herself, but after getting to know you, she’d definitely start crushing on you, and all your interests really are, well, interesting to her. She really loves that you’re so caring, and though she won’t tell you that, she really does love everything about you. She finds your sketches really cool, as most of her art is really messy, or about her latest project, please expect her to ask allll about what you’re doing. She doesn’t want to seem like she’s trying to talk just to talk, because if anything she wants to really get to know you. With her love languages, she’s not so big on touch at first, but after a while I think she’d really come to expect it, and even demand it, in her own way.

#character matchups #inside job #reagan ridely hc #reagan ridley

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shakespeareanqueer · 3 years

Text

Your Library

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Librarian!Reader

Summary: Feeling betrayed by Steve, Bucky wanders into a library. But not just any library; your library.

Word count: 1,100 words 📖 Warnings: Some angst at the beginning, then fluff!

A/N: Still trying to knock out my Bingos and keep falling off my horse! This one was mostly pre-written so I figured I’d get it out there, had the post all made up then my browser crashed! And it wasn’t saved as a draft. So it took my procrastinating butt a few days to make another post, but finally here we are. It’s for my Bucky Barnes Bingo “Fluff” box. Enjoy!

Lots of things had changed since the 1940s. Bucky would tend to say most things. The food had changed; it was better, less bland. Even the sheets had changed; they were softer. Why Steve would want to abandon all of the progress that had been made in society was beyond him. But he had no control over Steve’s actions; whatever made his best friend happy, he would support.

But the story has digressed. Lots of things had changed. But one thing he thought would remain constant was libraries. He used to love the library growing up. It was an excellent place to go to stay out of trouble, to stay out of his mother’s hair, to keep Steve out of trouble. Steve would sketch and he would read and since no one was allowed to talk, Steve couldn’t pick a fight with anyone. That’s always a plus. Here we go again with Steve. Bucky is constantly distracted by thoughts of Steve. Everything seems to remind him of him. And if it doesn’t remind him of something specific, then it’s something new, and he would get this urge to share with his best friend. And then his heart would break just a little more.

Libraries. He was thinking about libraries. Surely they must still be the same? Books haven’t changed all that much. Some are on tablet thingies now, but people still read physical books; he’s seen it. And they have to be housed somewhere and that’s what a library is for right? So he should expect something fairly similar to what he was used to growing up.

He should not have expected that, because what greets him as he walks through the doors is so totally different. There are stacks and stacks of books, but not nearly as many as he was expecting. There’s a whole bunch of computers. Damn, he was really hoping this could be his safe-haven away from those devil’s machines. And there are other big machines too.

He spins on his heels to just go right back out, but then he finally experiences something familiar. He hears a cheery voice singing out, “Can I help you with something?”

A grin actually spreads across his face subconsciously as he turns to face you. When he does, your eyes grow wide. “Oh my gosh, you’re Sergeant Barnes. An actual Avenger is in my library.”

Bucky lets out a dry chuckle, but he doesn’t know how to respond. So he asks, “Your library?” He cringes at how stupid the question is.

But your face lights up with pride and any regret that he had for asking that question instantly melts away. Beaming, you reply, “I was just promoted to Branch Librarian, so yes: my library. But I’m more than happy to share.” You wink.

“Well as the Branch Librarian I’m sure you have the expertise to answer this question: why have libraries changed so much since the 40s?”

Your face lights up again, and though the last two times have not been intentional, Bucky decides that if he gets the chance, he wants to get that expression out of you as often as possible.

“Oh, I’m not sure you want to get me started, Sergeant Barnes. That’s what I wrote my thesis on—progress vs stasis in libraries.”

“I’m very certain I do want to get you started. And please, call me Bucky.” He glances around nervously. “You haven’t shushed me yet…”

You let out of a soft giggle. “That’s a stereotype, Bucky.” You draw his name out, testing it. It feels nice in your mouth. “We’re in the foyer at the moment, there’s no need to keep our voices down. There are quiet and silent spaces in other parts of the library, but we’re safe to carry on a normal conversation here. As long as we don’t raise our voices at each other. Besides, shushing noises carry louder and farther than whispering or lowered voices, so they’re not the best way of keeping a library quiet anyway.”

“A librarian who is anti-shushing. Out of all the new things I’ve experienced, that is not something I expected to see.”

“Welcome to the twenty-first century, Serg-I mean, Bucky.” You smiled.

You gave him a tour around your library. Your enthusiasm about every little detail was infectious.

“A local artist painted this mural,” you explained excitedly when you entered the children’s section. One wall was painted with colorful famous storybook characters playing hide and seek in a set of bookcases. Bucky was pleased to see characters from his day as well: there was Winnie the Pooh and Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. He couldn’t help but smile being surrounded by tiny chairs and tiny books and lots of color and toys and games. Some kids were playing on the computers that were on tiny desks with little child-sized bean bag chairs, but plenty were actually reading or coloring or engaging in activities he would have at their age. It was a sweet scene, and you beaming with pride over the whole thing made it that much sweeter.

Bucky made it a habit after that to visit you at your library. He read old favorites in a comfy couch in the corner from which he could see your circulation desk, where you chatted amiably with customers and visitors. On Sundays, he came to the book sales and tried something new. That was his challenge to himself. They weren’t totally new, up-to-the-minute or anything, but they were newer than 1945, and that was adventure enough for him. When he finished any book, he would chat with you about them. Whether you had read that particular book or not (though you usually had), your face always lit up brightly to discuss your favorite topic, with someone who was rapidly becoming your favorite visitor.

There would always be a Steve-shaped hole in his heart, but it got smaller and smaller as time went on. He didn’t have the space to dwell on things he couldn’t change, a person he would never understand. His heart was too full of other things. Other people. People like you.

As he peered over the top of your copy of Sense and Sensibility to see you happily stacking books while humming a little tune under your breath he could only hear because of his enhanced senses, he thought maybe today would be the day he would build up the courage to ask you out. But there never felt like there was any rush. Time stood still in your little library.

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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years

Text

Read into Me Chapter 11: Love Story

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 4,771

Warnings: fire, injury-all end of season three things!

Author’s Note: Happy belated Strangers Things 3 Day! I wanted to get this up yesterday, but I didn’t have it in me to work. This is the end of the series, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was a fun little ride!

Series Tag: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @jisungiesluv @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @peterparxour @linkispink1995 @a-big-ball-of-idk @used-avocado @mochminnie @sledgy14 @the-creative-lie @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @ggclarissa @voidnarnia @anonymousonion33 @awkwardnesshabitat @darkcrystal-wolf @hannahrisacher

Paris was a lonely city. You’d arrived alone, having not seen Steve since prom and still desperate to see him one more time. You’d selfishly kept his sweatshirt, wanting a piece of him to take with you to a different country. Your mother hadn’t picked you up from the airport, having sent a car instead. She didn’t seem much interested in speaking to you after months apart; she was much more interested in redecorating her new condo and talking about her fiancé. You met him, a French fop named Jean-Pierre at least fifteen years her junior. He was nice enough, although a bit fruity for your liking. His interests were more on the modeling jobs your mother was getting him. She had no time for you, which was fine since your lessons at the salon began immediately.

You and thirty-five other young hopefuls spend your days locked in a studio with abundant resources and endless models and objects to sketch. And you hated it. You hated the long, rambling lectures from the artists who came to the salon to preach the values of the school and the importance of French art. They alternated between speaking in French and English without explaining themselves as they switched tongues. Your French language skills were nonexistent, so the lectures were exhausting and endless. The only time they ever seemed to help was when they brought you all to the Louvre to examining the long dead French men who’d made the museum possible. There, you could at least sketch out the greats and enjoy the beauty of the art. Inside the studio, you felt as though your head was going to explode. The lectures spoke too loudly and loomed over you without warning or word, you weren’t allowed your headset or Walkman in the studio to combat them, and the smell of various paints and clays made your stomach churn. The girl who’d taken up the easel next to you, a little German named Lisle, had taken to making clay pots and sculptures and the sound of her pottery wheel mixed with her incessant humming made you want to commit manslaughter. It didn’t help that the smell of the brown clay invaded your sinuses and made you sneeze violently. You dreaded the salon. But you dreaded being at home more.

Your mother had hired you a French tutor, utterly horrified by the fact that you hadn’t been practising. You tried to tell her that, despite her assumptions, Hawkins High had stopped offering a French elective two years before you started there.

“You cannot live in Paris without speaking French! It won’t do!” she moaned. Jean-Pierre was already on the phone, speaking fast into the receiver. You didn’t see what the big deal was. Everywhere you went, people spoke enough English to communicate with you fine. It didn’t occur to you till after dinner that if you were to study in the country, you’d need the language to understand your lessons.

So you got a French teacher, a short tempered older man who insisted on being called Monsieur Bérnard. His greying whiskers moved sharply as he spoke and he often spit on you as he taught proper pronunciation and conjugation. He ranted and raved all afternoon, disgusted by your apparent lack of an ear for languages and your doodling on the edges of notebook paper instead of working. You’d go from sensory overload in the salon to being bullied by a Freud-looking asshole each day with no room for a break or a breath.

You lived for weekends. Rest was very well thought of in the city so the hell spawn tutor didn’t work and the salon locked its doors. You were allowed to wander the city at your leisure, your mother glad to have you out of the apartment. You’d spend most of your days sat at a café near the Eifel Tower, a prime spot to tourists. Every day, you’d bring your sketchpad and try to draw out the profiles of those you passed you by. You spent two weekends working on a sketch of people sunbathing on the lawn in front of the tower. But it seemed you left all your talent in Hawkins. You’d spent so long drawing familiar faces back home, now that you were away from your nest, you found yourself without the skill to capture the faces around you. It occurred to you that you knew the faces of Hawkins far too well. They were engrained in your mind, your hand working like a stamp to put them on the page. France was full of strangers. You didn’t know how to understand them like you understood Hawkins. France wasn’t home. You couldn’t work out in a world of strangers.

You couldn’t work in the salon either. It was too much. Everyone was constantly showboating and trying out-do one another. You couldn’t work with people spying over your shoulder. You felt judged and insecure about what you could do. You didn’t want to be watched as you tried to make art. It didn’t help that you had no idea what to make. The closest thing you’d gotten done is that sketch of the Eifel Tower and that wasn’t something you couldn’t buy on the streets around the monument. You’d tried all the things that you couldn’t in your bedroom-paint splatter art, pottery, carving, paint pulling, mosaics. You never finished anything. The drive to push through wasn’t there.

When the loneliness and fear became too much to bear, you held Steve’s sweatshirt and cried. It still smelt like him; Irish Springs soap and Fabregè Organics shampoo and hairspray and a bit like sweat. It was nice though. You missed him. You tried to write him letters, but you knew that they wouldn’t get home before you did. You’d made up your mind that whatever the answer was, you were going home. Whether that meant deferring a semester or missing the first week of school you would go back to Hawkins. Still, you’d written over a dozen letters, all crumpled in your waste bin.

You waited until the last minute to finish something for submission. You’d tried to sketch your mother, to find who you knew in the fancy woman in front of you. With her bleached blowout and designer clothes, thirty pounds lighter and yellow gold jewellery glinting in the midday sun. She looked like the epitome of elegance, straight out of a magazine. The woman you remembered had greying roots and love handles, her only jewellery the wedding rings your father had given her. Europe had changed her into someone who you didn’t know and who didn’t seem to want to introduce herself to you. Nothing you drew seemed to capture the middle between who she was and who she is now. You realized in her profile that you weren’t a part of her life anymore, that she didn’t want you there. You were as strange to her as she was to you. You passed each other like ghosts in the hall, almost recognizable but hauntingly foreign.

The day before your final piece for submission was due; you got a letter from Steve. It only had one sentence.

“I should have asked you to stay.”

It was all you needed to hear to be inspired. You made your final project a tribute to him, mixing memories with unfinished letters building into his face. You used plain black ink to sketch his profile on the surface of the mess, building him into your loneliness. You only had your memory to recreate his face and your own letters to fill the canvas. Still, it was the only thing you’d done the whole time you were in the country that you were actually proud of. You didn’t finish it until the sun rose and you handed it off to be judged without a second thought, bleary eyed and exhausted.

You were on a plane home by the wee hours of July 4th.

Hawkins was a depressing place. After graduation, Steve found himself listless and at the hands of his father. He was a failure, a disgrace of a son. He was unready to start into the family business. His grades were pathetic. He had to get a job. Of course, with no job experience and late to the game, no decent place wanted him. The new mall only offered him one place of employment, Scoops Ahoy. And the uniform was embarrassing. Stupid sailor shirts and matching shorts, fucking knee socks and a corny paper hat. He looked like a certified geek. And his co-worker was a freak. Robin fucking Buckley did nothing but bug him all shift. It didn’t help that he had no friends without you, even Dustin had left for some nerdy science camp after the school year ended.

He was alone and lonely.

He tried to write you a half dozen times. But nothing seemed to make sense, nothing was worth telling you. What was he supposed to tell you? That he had become an even bigger loser overnight? He felt so utterly pathetic. He just wanted things to go back to the way things were. But what did that even looked like anymore? It wasn’t a life with Nancy, she’d dumped his ass, and it wasn’t a life with you, you’d left him for a different continent. He didn’t have a clue where he was going anymore. So he did what any lonely, practically friendless teenager did-he worked his ass off. Eight hours every day in the mall with smart ass Robin Buckley, waiting for the ground to suck him up. And sure, he tried to hit on the girls his age that came around. It was a good distraction from his broken heart. He’d made up his mind that he was ready to move on and try to date again. That he needed a girlfriend. That he needed to be cool again.

And then, Dustin came back and Hawkins started acting up again. He thought it was over. Those damn dogs were gone, the thing was closed, the kid was safe and acting like a kid. Everything had gone back to as close to normal as he’d seen it in awhile. But Dustin just had to find a secret code and Buckley just had to decode it and Lucas’s bitchy little sister just had to be small enough to fit into the vents and find a secret Russian elevator. And they just had to get stuck in it.

He couldn’t keep that damn kid from seeking out trouble. And yeah, it was kind of fun in a scared shitless kind of way, but it wasn’t worth getting drugged and beaten up and nearly dying for. And it certainly wasn’t worth getting tricked into thinking that he had feelings for fucking Robin. He could murder that kid for getting it in his head that he liked that girl. Robin was cool; he wouldn’t pretend that she wasn’t a decent friend to have at the end of the world. But he didn’t need the embarrassment of trying to ask out a lesbian. At least the reason for her rejecting him wasn’t that he was unattractive or lame, just that she didn’t dig dudes. He was cool with that. And at least he got to punch out a communist. If he could tell his father that without going to prison or being murdered by a Russian goon, he’d be proud. Fuck that, he was proud. He won a fight! He beat up a Russian spy! More than one, he beat some up while drugged out; at least he thought he did. He couldn’t remember much, other than watching Back to the Future with Robin. That movie was too confusing. And then he stole a car, he saved Nancy’s life, he set up that weird tower thing for Dustin-there was too much going on to even recognize how crazy he sounded. How crazy all of this sounded.

And then, the mall was on fire.

Your flight landed on the fourth of July at about ten fifteen in the evening. It took about forty-five minutes to get from the Indianapolis International Airport back to Hawkins. You were buzzing. Seven words had given you all the hope you needed to push you back to the states. Every fibre of your being was alive with energy, with excitement. You couldn’t wait for your grandfather to park the car, you jumped out as soon as you were settled in the driveway.

“Don’t you want to go upstairs and unpack?” your grandmother called after you as you booked it down the driveway.

You turned back “No, I’ll be back later!” you called. Steve’s car wasn’t in the driveway but you figured if anyone was home they’d know where he was. You bounded up the stairs, ringing the doorbell twice.

Mrs. Harrington came to the door in her bathrobe. “Oh, hello there…” she trailed off, obviously unable to remember your name.

“Y/N, hi it’s nice to see you, do you know where Steve is?” you asked, bouncing from your heels to your toes.

Mrs. Harrington narrowed her eyes “He’s at his job I assume. At the mall.” She said slowly.

“What mall?” you demanded. Mrs. Harrington’s eyes blew wide open and you realized that you were probably coming off like an insane person. “Sorry, I’ve been out of the country for about a month.”

“It’s where the Hawkins Laboratories were, off East Wood Road.” She pointed out the door towards the roads. You knew instantly that the fastest way to get there was through the woods. You ran through the backyards of your neighbours and into the woods. You didn’t like the Hawkins forests. They were dark and dim and poorly maintained. The county hadn’t been out to cut down potentially problematic trees on the few hiking paths in the woods. Burs caught your socks and twigs scratched your legs as you hopped logs to try to get there faster. They’d carved a road through the woods, you’d found it halfway to the mall, deserted and blocked off. You could see the bright orange flames from a mile away.

Your heart stopped dead in your chest. Steve was in there. You could cry.

Instead, you hopped the blockade, running down the road despite the calls of passing fire trucks and police. You didn’t care if they tried to arrest you, although you doubted that they could. It would be a waste of time to bother with you during an emergency.

The parking lot was filled with emergency vehicles. Massive streams of water were attacking the building. Luckily, it seemed the mall was closed, judging by the few people who were milling around not in uniforms. You sprinted into the crowd, looking around frantically.

Steve had been ushered into the back of an ambulance and draped in a bright orange emergency blanket. It wasn’t that cold but he felt as though he was freezing. The EMTs had checked his vitals and disinfected the wounds on his face and knees. As for the remaining drugs in his system, he chose not to mention them. He knew that the high would wear off eventually. Robin was sat next to him, equally bandaged up and silent, save an uncontrollable shiver. Wordlessly, Steve took the blanket off his shoulders and placed it over hers. He wasn’t that cold. Moreover, he just felt numb. He’d had this happen so many times; his face beat in, an otherworldly thing trying to destroy his life and hurt his family, a major building destroyed-it all felt familiar. It made him sick to his stomach to know that it was familiar. If he had anything left in his stomach he would’ve thrown up.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something running towards him. At first, he tensed. He didn’t know what it was and it could probably kill him. His heart stopped and then raced wildly. He held out an arm to protect Robin and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Steve!” you cried. He was in an ambulance. He was hurt. He was alive. You felt as if you could cry. In the span of fifteen minutes he’d gone from working to escaping a fiery building to missing in a fire to simply hurt. And hurt was just fine, you could handle hurt.

“Oh my god Steve, are you okay? Are you alright? I love you so much…”You grabbed his face, examining the bruises. You pulled him tightly to your chest, trying not to cry or freak out. You knew it wouldn’t help.

“I love you too…” he breathed into your ear, pulling you close to him. He recognized you by the smell of your hair, the feeling of your arms around him. He could cry. He didn’t believe you were real. But when you pulled away and his hand came to your face. You were real. And you were here. And he was safe. He was safe and alive. Feelings of relief rushed through his body. He wanted to cry, but the shock was too overwhelming for a tear to even drop.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper and hoarser than he’d ever felt it. “I thought you were still in Paris.”

“I came home early,” you chuckled, pressing a kiss to his jaw bone. “I didn’t get in.” That was the nicer version, the judges laughed at your final piece, they called it pedestrian. You should’ve been more upset, your mother was furious, but you couldn’t have cared less. You were free to go home. You could’ve thanked them for rejecting you.

Steve pulled away, looking you squarely in the eye. He wouldn’t have you give up on school to hang out with him in bum fuck Indiana. But you were telling the truth, it was written plainly all over your face. “Those bastards…” Steve murmured. You laughed, your eyes watery and throat thick. You were overwhelmed. You expected to come home and just see him in his element. You expected him to not necessarily want to see you. You didn’t expect a fire or Steve being injured or Steve to even be there at all. You pulled Steve back into your arms, you didn’t want to let go.

“I missed you so much…” you whispered. Steve’s arms came around your hips, pulling you in between his legs. He needed you here, to keep you in place for awhile.

“I missed you too…” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Did you get my letter?”

You looked up “Yeah I did…” you said “I wish I had written you, I tried so many times but I couldn’t find the words and-” Steve kissed you hard, stealing the words from his throat. He didn’t care if you didn’t write him back; this was the best thing he could’ve gotten from you. A letter wouldn’t do it justice.

You were lit up by his kiss. This is what you needed. No words could do the feelings he expressed in his kiss justice. You felt alive. You felt at home. Steve tried to pull away, but you pulled him back by his shirt, kissing him as if your life depended on it. Maybe it did. You couldn’t be sure anymore.

A loud clearing of one’s throat interrupted you and you pulled away to see Robin waving awkwardly. “Oh hey Buckley…” you muttered awkwardly. “How’s Samantha?”

“No clue, she never called me back.” The younger girl shrugged nonchalantly, hopping down from the ambulance deck. “I’ll catch ya later, Harrington.”

You turned your attention back to Steve, looking down at the material still in your fists. He looked ridiculous. “What the fuck are you wearing?” you asked with a laugh. Steve’s hands settled on your lower back, holding you in between his knees as if you’d run off if he didn’t.

“Oh this? This has been my whole summer.” He groaned “I’ve been captaining a boat on an ocean of flavours.” You couldn’t help but cackle, you had no idea what he was talking about but he seemed so serious.

“And by that you mean?” you lifted the fake red neckerchief attached to his shirt, running the material between your thumb and forefinger.

“Ice cream store in the mall,” he pointed to the embroidered Scoops Ahoy logo on his breast.

“You’re kidding…” you shook your head as if to shake the idea out of your mind. Steve’s fingers trailed the raggedy edge of your sweatshirt. Well, his sweatshirt, his last name and basketball jersey number were embossed on the back; he could feel the textured design on your lower back.

“I like my sweater,” he chuckled, reaching up to adjust the length of the drawstrings on the hood. You looked away, a bit embarrassed.

“I didn’t mean to keep it I just…missed you,” You replied “You can have it back.”

“Nah, it suits you,” he smirked “Besides, I want my girl in my stuff, it’s cute.”

“Your girl?” you grinned giddily, elbowing him in the ribs. “Since when am I your girl?” You liked the idea of being Steve’s girl. It had a nice ring to it.

Steve smirked, squeezing your hips in his hands. “Oh come on baby, you’ve been my girl for awhile…”

“Oh really? Well, I wouldn’t know since you’ve never asked me…”

You heard a loud yell and turned to see a set of paramedics carrying a stretcher towards you and Steve. They were sprinting and bringing a badly burnt and unconscious Billy Hargrove towards the ambulance you sat on. You quickly moved out of the way. Steve grabbed your hand, allowing you to tug him from the ambulance’s deck.

You only got a brief look at the teenager, but it made your stomach churn violently. You felt ill. You felt Steve squeeze your hand. You turned to look at him and saw how hollow his eyes were. You wrapped your arm around his middle. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” you said, trying to stifle a yawn. You were exhausted from your flight and your run here and the trauma that had smacked you across the face.

Steve noticed anyway “Did you just get here?” he asked, lifting your chin.

“My flight landed at ten, I came to see you as soon as I could.”

“You should’ve gone home to rest, I wouldn’t have been mad at you.” You looked absolutely exhausted. He couldn’t imagine what he looked like.

“I missed you too much to not see you. And what if you had gotten hurt, if you hadn’t made it out then I would’ve never forgiven myself…”

Steve wrapped his arms tightly around you, shielding you from the scene, as more mangled people were brought out. The beast must’ve fallen apart once the brain was destroyed. It looked as though a bomb had gone off. Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to leave, but he knew that the FBI would be called and he’d have to talk to them again. He wanted you to go home, but that didn’t seem like an option now. Selfishly, he liked having you there, it was comforting to have you in his arms, squeezing him under his ribs and keeping him calm.

“I’m not gonna get hurt, I’m okay…we’re okay…” You nodded roughly against his chest. You felt as if you were burning up and freezing at the same time. You saw blinks of red flashing lights and sirens as one of the ambulances sped past. You were so thankful that he wasn’t on that ambulance.

“Yeah, I know, I’m not gonna let you out of my sight ever again.” Steve lifted up your chin, raising an eyebrow at you. “What? Last time I did you nearly died and for what? A shit job in the mall?”

“Well, not just for a job, I was helping Robin and a couple kids who were with us,” That wasn’t the whole story. Steve knew he’d have to tell you eventually about everything, but for now he was more than comfortable ignoring the looming problem beneath their feet.

“What a hero…” you giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Something had been bothering Steve for awhile now and he determined now was the best time to tackle the subject. He turned away from you, folding his hands in his lap.

“Did you mean it when you said that you loved me?” he asked quietly. Truthfully, he wasn’t certain that you meant it. Or if he had even heard you correctly. After Nancy, he wasn’t sure if anyone actually loved him back. He’d given so much of his heart away only to have it tossed to the floor and tread upon like it was nothing more than a cigarette butt. He wasn’t sure if he could trust that you meant it.

You let out a small sigh through your nose, crossing your arms over your chest. You were a bit embarrassed. You were half hoping that he would forget about it. Your response brought all of Steve’s hopes crashing down. “Yeah, yeah I do,” you admitted, rubbing your arms, having suddenly gone cold. “I will admit, I hadn’t planned on saying that this early, feels a bit middle school to say that you love someone before they’re even your boyfriend.”

Steve turned to look at you once again, a bit surprised. Your face had gone red, adorably red, but still very red and your gaze had turned down to the asphalt at your feet. He reached out and took your hand, interlacing your fingers with his. “Good,” he said with a smile. You turned up to look at him; brow furrowed “I thought I had like imagined it.”

“Oh…no you’re good.” You said slowly. He looked like a little puppy dog, his whole face was radiating sunshine; it was almost hard to look at. It was harder to not match his energy, to get drunk off it. Then again, no one was stopping you from just enjoying the moment. You let out a small breath, not so much heavy with sadness or regret, but simply exhaustion. You let your head rest on his shoulder, smiling softly despite the scene in front of you. If it weren’t for the smouldering building and the emergency vehicles surrounding the pair of you, it would almost be romantic. The fact that you were even trying to find romance in the scene felt a bit silly, but maybe that was what this was supposed to feel like. Finding love in a burning building was a bit dramatic, it certainly not what you’d expected for your life, but you determined that no matter what you’d keep Steve safe. You had no idea what was going on at this scene, you had no idea what happened. But no matter how scared you were, you knew that Steve must’ve been even more scared. You knew that you couldn’t protect him, the same way that he couldn’t protect you, but maybe together you could keep each other safe for awhile.

“I love you too, you know,” Steve said quietly, his gaze trailed on the smoke of grey smoke coming up off the extinguished fire. The front of the mall had crumbled and the giant neon ‘Star-Court Mall’ sign shattered on the pavement. You hadn’t seen the mall before the fire, you didn’t know what it was supposed to look like, but a cavernous jagged mouth probably wasn’t the design goal. Still, you turned your attention to the side of Steve’s face. He couldn’t face you, the tips of his ears bright red underneath his flat, sweaty hair.

You swallowed hard “I know,” you say softly. Steve turned to look at you, examining your face with a nervous expression. You smiled and nodded reassuringly “I know.” Steve smiled and laced his fingers with yours. He squeezed your hand tightly in his and you squeezed his back, the feeling of his hand squeezing yours the only feeling left in your body beyond the giddy buzz. You didn’t know how any of this worked, you didn’t know if you were doing this right, if there was a right way to do it. The buzz under your skin was two parts anxiety and one part excitement. But you didn’t pull away. You were glued to his side.

“You know, I think that was one of the first normal conversations we’ve ever had,” Steve mused.

You scoffed loudly rolling your eyes “That was not normal.

Steve shook his head with a small laugh “Yeah, I know…”

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toothpastecanyon · 3 years

Text

A Name From the Mailbox, Chapter 2

Dipper finds out the author's name before Not What He Seems. It's not the person he expected.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

The Gravity Falls Public Library. Dipper didn’t find himself going here as often as he’d thought he would. Sure, there were books, but whoever the librarian was they certainly weren’t stacking them in any kind of system; it was impossible to find anything you were looking for besides dusty magazines heaped up on coffee tables.

But for all the library’s shortcomings, it did have one thing the Shack didn’t. It had computers.

“Is that a dial up sound, Dipper?”

He shrugged at his sister. “Maybe? I dunno what that sounds like.” He sat back. “Wish it’d load faster. Ugh, I swear these things are cursed to be slow or something like that.”

“Oooo, curses!”

“Just need to wait for it to load…” Dipper took out a notebook. “If I can’t have the journal, fine. I don’t need that. I don’t need him. I’ll find it out myself.”

“You’re muttering, bro bro.” Mabel poked his face. “So what’re we looking up, anyway? I thought you said all the websites for magic stuff are ‘unnacurate’ and ‘disturbing’.”

“It’s innacurate actually, Mabel.” He pushed her hand away as the computer finally loaded. “And I’m not looking for Gravity Falls stuff. I’m looking for Stan.”

“What’s he doing on the internet? I don’t think he knows what it is.”

Dipper started typing. “No, but maybe we can find out something about him on there.”

“Ooo, like secrets!”

“Yeah, like secrets.” Dipper made a face as he put in ‘Mystery Shack Gravity Falls’ and got a few sites with mixed reviews. “Oh you gotta look at this, Mabel. Someone wrote, ‘A friend recommended I bring my family here. We spent five minutes inside, and in that time the owner charged an exorbitant entrance fee, scared my children with some horrific taxidermied duck-rat thing, and then made up some fake ‘early exit charge’ when we tried to leave! We are pretty sure he picked our pockets too, but the police in this town are useless. I’m out a wallet and a friend.”

Mabel giggled. “I’m pretty sure Stan has no idea about these! Oh, this one’s from when I was boss! Ahem, ‘The last time I was here an old man was giving the tour, but when we came by the manager appeared to be a young girl. Everything appeared to be slightly destroyed too? When I asked for a refund because part of the roof fell on me, she told me to shut my yap. Other than that, great as always. Love the money bag.” She gave a fist pump. “Aww yes, I got us a five out of five! Let’s read more, this is fun!”

“Actually, Mabel, we’ve gotta keep looking.”

“Awww.”

Dipper tapped on the keyboard. “Okay, I guess the Mystery Shack doesn’t turn up much. How about… just his name?”

He typed that in, and sat back as it loaded.

“Alright, Stan. Let’s see what you’re hiding…”

______________________________________________________________

It was late at night when Stan snuck his way back into the Shack. He opened the front door as quietly as he could, and shut it behind himself, making a face at every creek. He took off his black mask, his leather gloves, and stashed them under the register before moving to the blinds. He kept a close eye on the parking lot as he drew them closed; it didn’t look like he’d been followed.

Ugh. Stan didn’t like messing with the feds, but it wasn’t like anyone else had any radioactive waste handy. He’d scope out the place a few more times, just to be safe… but that was for another night.

With a big sigh, Stan headed over to the vending machine. He raised his arm to input the code, but something told him to look around first. His eye caught on a small darkness on the base of the staircase, and he paused a second before pressing the code for a candy bar. He picked it up, unwrapped it, and munched on it as he headed for the living room.

“Grunkle Stan.”

There it is. He turned on the light.

“Oh, hey Dipper. Having fun standing in the dark like that?”

Dipper had his arms crossed. “You’re out late.”

“Yeah, ’cause I’m old and I do what I want.” He sank into the chair. “What’s up, kid? If you’re gonna ask for your journal back you’re gonna be disappointed.”

“No, that’s not why I’m here.” He pointed to a large stack of papers on the side table. “I found this.”

“Huh? Oh, you didn’t use the copier, did you? Paper’s expensive, kid.”

“No, I printed it out at the library.” He made a face. “It was like twenty dollars. Now look!”

“Ugh, I already sat down, kid. Can’t we- Oof!” He grunted as the pile was dumped in his lap. “Watch it, that’s a lot of paper! You’re gonna have to summarise whatever this is, because I am not-”

“It’s your thesis, Grunkle Stan!”

Grunkle Stan paused, and looked up at Dipper. He looked very, very serious, and he came a step closer.

“Well?”

“Well… well what? Thesis?” Stan tried to stand up, but the papers kept him down. “I don’t know what you mean, Dipper. Seriously, I’ve never seen this before in my life-”

“You wrote it!”

“What?”

“Look!” He grabbed the top page and stabbed a finger at the author line. “Stanford Pines! All summer long you said you didn’t even go to college, but you’ve got a PhD! You wrote a thesis about anomalous sightings in the western United States! Admit it - you are the author!”

Stan found himself shrinking back; he had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to be able to brush this off. “Wh-where’d you even get that from?”

“I found your college online. Apparently they’re still writing about your thesis since it’s the only nationally ranked one in their history.” Dipper clicked his pen. “You’re, you’re a genius, Grunkle Stan! I-I have so many questions, like why didn’t you tell us? Why’d you stop writing the journals? Where are the other two?”

“I… I…” He took a deep breath. He had to get control of this. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, ki-”

“Oh come on-”

“I don’t! Look, there’s obviously been some kind of mix up, it’s not like Stan Pines is a rare name-”

“Already thought of that.” Dipper held up an article. “I found this piece about how you used your grant money to build the Mystery Shack. It’s even got a photo - it’s you.”

It was a gutpunch to see Stanford’s college photo shoved in his face, but he tried to swallow it. “Kid-”

“I don’t understand why you won’t just admit it. I know you don’t want us messing with the supernatural, but all summer long I’ve been reading your journal, trying to solve the mysteries of this town. The author was a huge one - I-I was kind of worried I’d never find out, or I’d find out he was dead or something, but it’s you!” He grinned. “And now I know, we can work together! You don’t have to keep pretending! You can trust me with this!”

Stan looked down at his nephew’s face, and gave a deep sigh. There was no easy way out of this. With a bit of struggle, he hefted the thesis off his lap and onto the floor, then put a hand on Dipper’s shoulder.

“Dipper, listen. I’m not the author.” Stan saw him open his mouth and quickly continued. “I’m not, okay? I know you like your mysteries, but just this once, could you please just take my word on this one?” He made a face. “I don’t want you or your sister getting hurt. So just forget about it, okay?”

Dipper frowned at him, and for a moment Stan didn’t think that was gonna work - it was a long shot, anyway. But then something seemed to click in his mind, and he stepped back.

“Forget…” he said. “Grunkle Stan, do you know about the Society of the Blind Eye?”

“The what?”

“It’s-“ He reached under his arm and rolled his eyes when he realized there was no journal. “Ugh, I’ll draw it.”

He grabbed a paper from the pile and started sketching something out. Stan stood there, a little confused.

“Sounds like a cult. Did you join a cult? Ugh, your folks are gonna kill me.”

“It’s this!” Dipper shoved a paper in his face - a crossed out eye, a symbol Stan remembered seeing somewhere in the journals. “Have you seen this before?”

“Kid-”

“Ugh, that doesn’t prove anything, though. You might’ve forgotten that too.” He clicked his pen, and then took off for the stairs. “I’ll be back!”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Stan called out, but he was already gone. He threw his hands up in the air. “Great. Perfect. Hey, can you come back down and explain what all that was? Dipper?”

No reply. Stan frowned; he made to follow, but his foot caught on the stack of papers. He caught himself on the wall, and turned back to look at the scattered pile. Each page was lit by TV static, stark white in the light, and pitch black in the shadows. He narrowed his eyes at that picture of Stanford, that stupid thesis.

“Fine.” He gave the mess a kick and stalked into the gift shop. “Fine.”

Dipper wasn’t going to stumble into this so close to the finish line. He’d worked too hard for too long. If the kid was so intent on figuring him out, he’d just have to work faster.

He gave a long look around before entering the code. The venting machine swung open with a puff of air, and he shut it quickly behind him before marching down the steps.

No more scoping out. It was time to finish the job.

#gravity falls #stan pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #toothwrites #fanfiction

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cloudywriter · 4 years

Text

i never got to say i love you - 2

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A/N: heyy i wanted to update vanilla pudding cups but i’ve really kinda hit a block in that story so enjoy this while i move pass my stump with the other story. also i’m working on some masterlist so navigating stories will be easier!

masterlist & AO3

also here’s my other feysand au if you would like to check that out! -> vanilla pudding cups

~~~

As classes begin to start up Feyre finds herself adjusting well to her new schedule. Most days she has one or two classes in the morning and one or two in the afternoon. Alis almost always brings her some lunch or snacks as she spends every free moment she has in the studio. If it weren’t for Alis she’s convinced she might’ve accidentally starved to death by now.

Honestly, Feyre hadn’t made many friends besides Alis who she had grown pretty close with. She had brief conversations with Mor in the hallways and had eventually met her roommate, Viviane, but most of the time she saw Mor outside of the dorm building she was with that group of boys from the dining hall. Yes, the same group of boys Alis still managed to bring up every other day, especially when they’d first seen Mor walking with them very comfortably. Alis was convinced Mor would be their way in.

What Feyre had never told Alis was a week ago Mor had invited them to come play monopoly in her dorm one Friday night with said boys, Viviane, and her boyfriend, Kallias. Feyre had declined.

Mor is always extremely sweet and a constant ray of sunshine but so much so it unnerved Feyre a bit, she could easily turn into one of those girls Feyre avoided like the plague in high school. Viviane is similar, but a bit more subdued, however Mor was completely right about her being with her boyfriend more often than not.

At the moment Feyre was making her way back from her last class of the day to her dorm, mentally preparing herself to pull an all-nighter. She had an assignment due for her drawing class that she had been putting off for weeks until the due date had crept up on her. Therefore, Feyre now had approximately 12 hours to draw an entire portrait. Mostly she had procrastinated up until this point because she just had no idea who she wanted to draw and her options were already limited.

When she finally arrived at her dorm room, having stopped at the vending machine for snacks on the way, she pushed the door open, threw her bag on her bed, and slumped in her desk chair, letting out a loud sigh.

She was hunched over her sketchbook feeling utterly defeated only a few hours later. The sun was beginning to set which had her hopeful, usually she did her best work in the dead of night anyway. But her fingers ached from gripping her pencil so long and she wasn’t sure she could sit up straight without an immense pain flaring in her back, even her neck and shoulders felt stiff. Not to mention, her efforts only produced a half dozen crumpled balls in the trash and a mound of eraser shreds.

Luckily, Feyre started to get her rhythm back as the night progressed, it was dark out now the only lights coming from the city buildings surrounding the campus. Alis had yet to return which she found a little odd but it was safe to assume she was studying late in the library.

Unluckily though, the dorm next to her, Mor’s dorm, was getting increasingly noisy with the darkening sky. The constant sound of muffled voices, laughing, and music poured through the wall.

Feyre was about halfway done with her portrait which had turned into a drawing of Alis, it had started coming together nicely but the added distraction of all the commotion next door was throwing her off her game. She’d been debating with herself for half an hour now whether or not she should say something to Mor; she knew Mor would probably tone it down if she asked.

At last, nearly two hours later, Feyre was at her absolute breaking point. She hadn’t made much of a dent in the rest of her sketch throughout those hours due to the ever growing disruptions. How Mor had not gotten a noise complaint yet she did not know. The music was louder, the voices went back and forward between intense bickering and cheering, and even random slamming sounds could be heard every once in a while.

Feyre tried desperately to tune out her surroundings but just as she was finding success a loud banging on the wall followed by yelling brought her right back. She groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Before her mind even processed what her body was doing Feyre found herself outside of Mor’s door knocking with intent. She heard a frenzy of shushing and the music turned down a few notches.

The door then swung open.

“Hey, sorry - oh, you’re not the RA.”

A hulk of a man stood in the doorway dressed in a tight black t-shirt and batman pajama pants. The man flashed her a big shit-eating grin. Feyre thought there was something familiar about him.

“What brings you around here, sweetheart?” He added, leaning against the door.

That’s when the familiarity donned on Feyre. He was one of the boys from the dining hall, specifically the one who had half his hair up. She also then realized it was in fact Friday night, game night for them.

She had yet to respond to the boy but made herself look up to meet his gaze, making sure she had her best scowl on. He was quite tall.

“You look cute when you’re trying to look angry.” He smirked at her. His eyes dragged up and down her body slowly, intimately. Fuck, Feyre noticed too late she had really left her room with only a random cropped band t-shirt on, barely there baby blue shorts, mismatching socks, glasses, and her hair wrapped around itself in a ridiculously messy bun with only a chunky wool beige cardigan thrown over herself.

“I’m not cute.”

“I beg to differ, sweetheart.” He winked at her.

“Don’t call me that,” Feyre ground out.

“Sure, I can switch up pet names. What would you rather instead?” He raised his brows at her in question.

Before Feyre could stomp on his toes Mor came up from behind him, a red solo cup in hand. “Stop bothering Feyre with your incessant flirting, you brute.”

“Feyre, you say? I don’t believe we’ve met.” He spoke, not breaking eye contact with her.

“Right.” Mor opened the door wider causing the man to stumble and shoot her a glare, Mor only giggled. Now that Feyre could see inside she noticed the small foldable table set up in the center of the room and an array of uno cards scattered across the floor. “Okay, well you’ve kinda met Cassian, he’s an ass. But this is Azriel, Rhysand, and Amren,” she spoke, indicating to each person with her hand.

Azriel gave her a small, half smile while Amren gave her a disinterested wave of the hand.

Rhysand, however, studied her with an intense gaze that Feyre returned. She hadn’t seen the front of his face up close until now and she could not say she was disappointed whatsoever. Gods, he was like a greek god or something. He looked as if his face and body had been expertly sculpted out of the finest marble. He had black hair that was longer on top and adorably tousled, eyes that were such a specific shade of deep blue they might appear violet in some lights, and bronzed skin. Azriel and Cassian were definitely not bad on the eyes but Rhysand was just something else in her mind. It didn’t hurt he was also wearing the batman pajama bottoms.

Feyre might’ve thought he was having a similar inner monologue to her own but the harsh reality of what she was wearing right now, her bare face, and her hair’s state had her banishing that possibility. He too seemed as if he were in a bit of a daze, studying her.

“And this guys is Feyre. She lives next door,” Mor finished off.

Cassian gave Rhysand’s ribs a sharp jab. Rhysand looked a bit startled at first but recovered swiftly, giving Feyre a small tilt of his head in acknowledgment. “Well, it is lovely to finally meet you, Feyre,” Cassian smiled at her.

Feyre nodded her head, still a little distracted by Rhysand. “You too, sorry for interrupting.”

“No, no, you’re all good. I’m really sorry were we being too loud? Were you trying to sleep?” Mor asked so sweetly and genuinely Feyre almost felt bad for coming to ask her to quiet down in the first place.

“I-I no, um, it’s alright actually. Have a good night.” Feyre stammered, turning on her heel to end this embarrassing exchange.

She heard Mor reply with the same sentiment before disappearing back into her dorm. She closed the door and leaned her head against the solid wood.

That was not the smoothest interaction she’s ever had, that’s for sure.

She sat back down at her desk and stared at her work before picking up her pencil once more. It was substantially quieter now, Mor must’ve known what had bothered Feyre in the first place.

She tried to finish her sketch of Alis but her inspiration to do so had dissipated. With that, Feyre turned to the next page, letting her mind take over as her pencil flowed across the paper. She was somewhat aware of who she was now outlining but couldn’t find it in herself to stop. When she got an idea or saw something that intrigued her she had to draw it, like an itch that wouldn’t go away until it gets scratched.

In record time a completed portrait stared back at her, more specifically Rhysand’s stupid, perfect face stared back at her. Feyre groaned and put her head in her hands.

~~~

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