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rrxnjun · 11 months

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portrait of a blank slate. huang renjun

pairing: huang renjun x fem! reader genre: college au. fluff, smut, and the tiniest bit of angst. warnings: swearing, alcohol, angry man renjun, very bad dialogue, this is the most un-renjun fic i've ever written, dry humping, a heavy makeout session, unfinished blowjob word count: 5.8k playlist: no specific one this time but i listened to a lot of keshi while writing this, so have this playlist of mine to fit the vibes a/n: inspired by that one tweet describing how someone's art professor met his wife the same exact way, lost the screenshot and also the og post im so sorry!

turns out all it takes to save a life is a bad, bad college party, a few shots and a weird, magical coincidence back in a girl's dorm room.

It’s hard to believe that Huang Renjun is currently finishing up the art portfolio he needs for his summer internship program after procrastinating and angrily stomping at every single bad stroke of his paintbrush for the last few months.

Because he’s not.

He’s looking at the canvas with stern eyes, the smudges on the white linen so messy he could cry just by looking at them, and the more he tries to save the disgrace currently scribbled in front of him, the worse it gets and makes the levels of frustration in him turn into rage and fury, because let’s be honest– what is Renjun’s primary emotion if not anger.

And he tries hard to fix it again, he really does– he sighs heavily while doing so as he takes a smaller brush and tries to paint on a few hairstrokes to the portrait of Frida Kahlo he wants to execute– and in honest reality, it doesn’t even look half as bad as it does in the poor boy’s eyes when he takes a step back after holding in his breath and carefully piercing together the artwork. Maybe if there was someone else in the room– everyone but his annoying roommate Donghyuck, because that fucker always manages to make things even worse– they could talk him out of it, offer some words of consolidation, even, hype him up and tell him that with outsider’s eyes, the canvas looks beautiful and very well put together. But the truth is that there’s no one present right now, not a single soul in what feels like the whole campus right now, that could ease Huang Renjun’s frustration from what seems to be art block, when he throws the paintbrush to the wall (he’ll worry about the stain of acrylic paint later, when he gains consciousness) and puts a fist through the middle of the painting.

If he was a character in a comic book, his hand would go through the canvas and create a quite satisfying hole. He’s a real person, though– a weak one as well, to be quite honest– and his fist is stopped by the stretched-out fabric, making his hand bounce back, but now stained with all shades of brown and tan, which somehow only makes him even more mad and turns him into a furious animal roaming around free and causing uttermost chaos in his all true sense.

Nothing can stop Huang Renjun when he opens the drawer he keeps all his artwork in, taking out all the graphite sketches and colored pencil drawings, and then the next one containing the watercolor paintings and various other acrylic paintings done on expensive sheets of paper, stacking all of those onto one pile in the middle of the table. Not one thing is safe– except from the digital artworks he keeps in his iPad and his big A4 sketchbook he forgot about in the heat of the moment, since he keeps it on his nightstand– when he takes the big, heavy stack of art and runs, chimes towards the entrance of his and Donghyuck’s miniature dorm room, luck only standing by his side once in this whole evening when his said roommate opens the door and clears the way for him, looking at the poor boy with mouth agape in a slight shock.

“What the fuck are you doing right n–”

Donghyuck doesn’t get an answer. When he asks stupid questions, Renjun doesn’t tend to pay him much mind, settling on not engaging with the discourse if it doesn’t make much sense, so Hyuck should be used to the ignorance– he thinks this was a very valid question to ask at this moment, though. If he was curious enough, he’d even follow his roommate down the hall and watch him in his endeavors only to find out what’s the intention behind his angry stomping and the fierce look on his face. The truth is, though, he doesn’t care all that much.

That doesn’t stop Huang Renjun, though, as he chimes down the hall of the boy’s dormitory, kicks the glass door open (thankfully not the actual glass part, because that would for sure be expensive) and practically runs the rest of the way towards the bins at the end of the street, dumping the papers into the bin (forgive him for not recycling in his current state of mind) before he angrily kicks the poor object twice for good measure and turns on his heel, slowly, but still as angrily making his way back to his dorm room by stomping all the way up until the entrance.

The dorm guard doesn’t even ask for his dorm ID like he usually does– Renjun must have been quite memorable as he ran out of the building with 5kg of artwork of various sizes in his arms– but the truth is, the man isn’t as old and he saw the boy going out just a few minutes ago, so he doesn’t think it’s necessary. Renjun would appreciate the memo, although, when he remembers that the man always asks for the dorm ID, especially on the nights out when he comes back slightly intoxicated and too disoriented to look for the little slip of paper in his pockets, and on the nights when he forgets his dorm ID as well– the man was set on letting him sleep on the front porch of the dormitory once and it took Renjun 15 calls to get ahold of a sleeping Donghyuck and another 15 of him walking down the hall in slippers and pajama bottoms with his roommate’s dorm ID in hand before he could warm his bones from the cold slowly seeping into his bones on the January night– and that whole thing makes Renjun somehow even more angry at the whole situation.

And so when he comes into his room again, Donghyuck now sitting on his bed still in his outside clothes (something Renjun hates and would murder for), and his eyes land on the damaged canvas still waiting for him in the corner of the room, he wastes no time in opening his window and throwing it down from the second floor, not really caring where it ends up or if he’s gonna get a fine for violating one of the dormitory rules– to never throw stuff out of the windows..

“Dude, what is–”

“Don’t ask.” Renjun huffs as he closes the door and peels his clothes off, taking a towel that’s still hanging from the top bunk of their bed and aims towards the bathroom door. A true tantrum can only end in a cold shower, and that’s what Renjun’s gonna do as he washes his dreams down the drain and ends up silently crying himself to sleep tonight in agony.

It’s hard to believe Huang Renjun is currently at the best college party since the days of ‘megaparties’ of Johnny Suh, the senior that’s slowly halting his party performance due to stilling in life. Renjun was dragged to Lee Jeno’s party by his roommate Donghyuck after he mourned in his bed for approximately two days before it got too much for the poor gemini, promising and honestly thinking that alcohol is truly the best solution for the poor boy’s misery. Again, it’s hard to believe Huang Renjun is currently at the best college party of the year when he listens to the loud EDM music piercing through his eardrums and he swears he catches a glimpse of a couple dry humping on the couch.

Because he’s not.

He’s at a college party, sure. He’s also getting some alcohol into his system– because why not, am I right? He’s not the one paying, and that’s always enough of a reason to drink. Is it the best college party he’s ever experienced, though? Absolutely not.

It’s quite literally the worst party he’s ever been to. The music is too loud and the whole house smells of cheap vodka, people are pushing each other around and with the amount of alcohol in his system, the whole room feels like he’s on a boat, his stomach weak and his eyes hazy. Renjun must admit Hyuck’s therapy skills are kind of paying off– because at least now he’s not thinking about the wasted opportunity of a summer scholarship and is instead looking into the eyes of his cute classmate from History class across the room– but at the same time, he’s not thinking much of anything in this moment, and the glint of your eyes is the only thing he can focus on when you get closer.

That might be a good or a bad thing– depends on how the encounter goes. There’s a fine line between the amount of alcohol that’s just perfect for Huang Renjun to get rid of his usual shyness and speak to other, much more attractive human species, and the amount of alcohol that’s just perfect for Huang Renjun to black out and puke on the floor, efficiently making it impossible for him to chat up the cute classmate he’s been eyeing the whole semester and ruining his chances of ever being seen in a good light in front of the said person ever again. He prays intensely that he hasn’t crossed the line yet when you open your mouth and speak to him in the crowded kitchen.

“Renjun!”

“Y/N!” he tries to mimic your tone, a flashy grin settling onto his face when you approach him first. You two aren’t strangers, after all– you’ve sat together in class during various exams and also accidentally bumped into each other in the cafeteria, but what were your courageous attempts in making conversation with him and efficiently trying to make him more interested in you didn’t lead to your desired goal of getting invited out by him, instead leading him to think you’re just that friendly to everyone and not just him, making the chances of him taking the next step that much slimmer. Not tonight, though– he really must have had too much to drink.

“How are you?” you ask, clearing your throat as you bump into someone and decide to shift closer to Renjun, making the boy’s breathing hitch in his throat.

“Wonderful,” he gasps, and for some reason, the response laced in irony makes an excited laugh escape your throat, and the more he listens to your bubbly giggle, the more he wishes he did music instead of fine arts, because maybe if he was competent enough, he could mimic the sound in one of his songs and replay it over and over even when you’re not around.

“That sounds very genuine,” you note, which makes the boy laugh in return, making him wonder if maybe he could have the same effect on you– if you’re smiling wider now because of the sound of his laughter, or if you’re just amused at something completely else.

It’s pathetic, really– the gloomy boy that was trailing to this party behind his roommate Donghyuck is nowhere to be seen now, instead replaced by the cheap imitation of a ray of sunshine that you brought out of him only with the magic of a few words and the few drops of alcohol on his tongue.

“Oh, trust me, it was genuine,” he teases, and you only nod to his attempt at masking his obviously saddened composure from before.

“Having a rough week?” you ask, and you sound truly interested– something Renjun hasn’t found in the tone of his roommate when he insisted on dragging him here– and maybe that’s the reason why he just shrugs and decides to come clean and be honest with you. You seem like that kind of person that wouldn’t make fun of his troubles, the kind of person that would genuinely want to help– although he’s not seeking counseling tonight, he figures he can talk a bit about his shitty mood if it means that it gets the conversation flowing.

“A rough life, actually,” he snickers before he sees you eye him with a concerned look, “just joking,” he adds before he retracks back and fixes his initial answer. “Some things didn’t work out the way I wanted them to, so I’m kind of moping around for a bit.”

You seem to feel empathetic towards the boy, nodding and pouting at his confession. “Well, I hope things get fixed for you, Jun,” you mumble, tone of voice encouraging– and maybe he could dwell at the caring nature of you a little longer, only if it wasn’t for your use of a nickname for him that just oh so sweetly rolls of your tongue and Renjun wishes he could legally change his name to the nickname so he could listen to the way it sounds forever– scratch that, to the way it sounds from your mouth forever, which means he won’t change it, just so it’s reserved for you and only you to say.

“What about you, though?” he finds himself asking in the midst of his inner screeching.

“Me? I’m great, totally fine, having the time of my life,” you emphasize, the over-the-top expression on your face making the boy burst into laughter as you wave your arms around as if to show him your surroundings. “I am a party person for sure, you know, so this is perfect,” you joke, and Renjun seems to get the memo. If he’s being honest, he’s not sure he’s ever seen you at a party before– not that he goes to many himself, which might honestly be the reason, actually– you could just be at different parties in different times that hadn’t overlaid, but by the way you’re currently tensely sipping at the alcohol in your hand, he figures you’re not too familiar with the scene of college partying.

“Who forced you to go? Was it your roommate?” Renjun remembers the girl from another one of his classes– you two were always walking around together and often got to class at the same time. Figuring out that you two lived together wasn’t as difficult, and she surely seems to be the more extroverted one.

“No, actually,” you say, eyes glimmering when he seems to remember the girl you share a room with, “to my surprise, honestly. It was another one of my friends– Na Jaemin, not sure if you know him– but the moment we got here, he disappeared and left me alone to deal with my thoughts,” you click your tongue and Renjun finds himself totally mesmerized with you– amazed with everything about you; the way you talk, the way you lean on the counter and watch him with stars in your eyes (which might just be the reflections of the kitchen lights, but don’t tell him that), the way you slightly lean into him when he cracks a joke and earns a laugh out of you…

“They always do that,” Renjun scowls, “they drag the introvert in and then force them to survive on their own…” he shakes his head in disappointment, clearly distraught over the situation.

“Exactly! But if you ask them to come with you to a picnic, or to the library, they decline the offer. So much for being good friends,” you roll your eyes. Renjun finds himself smiling, and although he must admit that as every other college student, he himself would decline an invitation to a library if anyone asked, he’s like 99% certain that if it was you uttering out the question, he wouldn’t miss a heartbeat before joyfully jogging there with you.

“Ask me next time,” he blurts out, a poor attempt at flirting, “I wouldn’t say no.”

And it seems like tonight is the night where you suddenly get the last kick of courage needed when you talk to Renjun– maybe fueled by his coy smile when he said the previous comment, maybe just acting out on pure hormones– tonight's the night where he breathlessly takes your offer, still not thinking much of it, but igniting a curious spark in his own heart nonetheless, when you scratch the back of your neck in the last residue of anxiety, scrunching your nose at him and mumbling under your nose, barely heard above the loud music resonating through the living room. “Do you wanna sneak into my dorm room, then?”

Renjun almost chokes at your question– visitors in the dormitory are only allowed until midnight and as far as he’s aware, the clock is well after 2 AM right now, and he’s a male visitor, which is even more off the bounds in the eyes of the fierce woman guarding the entrance of the girl’s dormitory building. The more he stares at you, the more you seem to translate his silence into disagreement, which you panically try to undo with even more rambling. “I- I mean, since we both kind of hate this party and I think that if I drink more, I’m going to puke all over myself, so… My room is on the ground floor, so you can just climb in, if you wanted to. My roommate went home for the weekend, so there’s no one there, and we could– I mean, we don’t have to, honestly, but it’s kinda cold out and I thought we could both use a place more silent, ‘cause I really wanna head back now, but I don’t want to stop talking to you, y’know, and I don’t know if–”

“Okay, I’m down,” Renjun nods, efficiently shutting up your rambling, and when there’s a very apparent relief flashing over your face, he finds himself smiling in endearance at your antics, going as far as ruffling a hand through your hair in whatever kick the alcohol mixed with adrenaline gave him before you have him dragging his feet out of the house, both of your feet shuffling towards the campus.

The walk isn’t long, but he finds himself enjoying it. The condensation coming out of your mouths at the chilly weather serves more to the atmosphere when the both of you giggle out at absurd jokes and gossip, your voice breaking into soft hums when you sing a song under your breath in moments of silence that somehow feel both kind of awkward, but also kind of pleasant. He drags you by your hand to the other side of the sidewalk when a car passes by and you jump in surprise, eyes wide and glossy, mouth a little agape in an open-mouthed grin when his fingers stay intertwined with yours and you adjust your purse on your other shoulder, clearing your throat before you try to nonchalantly continue on with the conversation.

“I’ll go inside now,” you announce when you get to the girl’s dormitory building, breaking apart from the eager boy and coming closer to him when you confide the secret, “I’ll turn the light on in my room when I get there, so make sure to look out for the window. I’ll help you in, don’t worry,” you smile at him, and before he has a chance to reply, you disappear behind the glass door with a pep in your step.

Renjun finds himself sighing– now is the moment when he should realistically get relief, the moment when he’s supposed to relax for at least a second and prepare himself for whatever might happen in your dorm room– but when he slowly walks over to the left wing of the building and squints at the dark squares of windows, he wonders how in the hell he’s gonna climb in. Escaping out will be an easy task– the windows aren’t that high up– but coming in will be the problem. He guesses it’s the same with the whole situation– he bets the easiest part of the whole evening will be jumping out and running to his own room– how to survive the night in your presence and not go completely insane, he doesn’t know and wishes he had a manual to before he agreed to do this in the first place.

When the light goes on in one of the rooms and you wave at him from the inside, he finds himself involuntarily jogging towards the window, gears in his brain turning faster than the speed of light when he reaches the wall and you grin at him, opening the window and offering him your hand.

“If you grip the edge of the window and give me your hand, you can get in easily,” you say, watching as the boy cautiously looks around himself and scratches the back of his neck, mentally calculating his next movements.

“Have you done this before?”

“No,” you bashfully shake your head, “but my roommate did it twice, so I don’t think it’s that hard,” you note and nod at him, waiting for him to finally take action.

Renjun finds himself doing what he’s been told– and even though he huffs and almost falls over to his back (which would kill him, he thinks, since his physique is very close to a turtle’s), victory fills his veins when one of his legs finally ends up in your window, his body stumbling forward and almost toppling you over when the warmth of your room welcomes him as he lands on top of your desk.

“Welcome,” you laugh at him when he shakes his head in disbelief and takes off his coat, dropping it on top of the wooden table and watching you close the window behind him, so the cold doesn’t get in.

“That’s one way of inviting guests over, I guess,” he teases you, watching as you roll your eyes at him and go over to one of the beds. Renjun notices the room is different to the one he shares with Donghyuck– you and your roommate have two beds instead of a bunk one, the table is right under the window and you get a little more space over-all. You turn on the little lamp kept on your bedside table, and the boy watches you with interest as you cautiously walk around your own room as if it’s your first time seeing it, reminding him a little of a deer in the headlights, clueless and suddenly out of ideas.

Renjun finds himself laughing at your behavior– he finds himself endeared by it, the way you play with your fingers in nerves and try to think of anything to do in the intimacy that suddenly envelopes you when you invite someone over to your dorm room in the middle of the night– and when you aimlessly end up standing in front of him, your big eyes even bigger and glossier than before, he snickers at the state of you and shakes his head.

“Okay, so I know I was the one who invited you over, but now I’m kind of helpless in what we should actually do and all…” you giggle, a little embarrassed when you bear your eyes into his, your body subconsciously slotted in between his legs, his position leaning on the edge of the table allowing you and inviting you to do so.

“You’re cute,” he laughs at you, and before you have a chance to question him about the compliment, he has you silenced abruptly by his next actions.

“What do you–”

His hand is gripping your jaw and he leans into you, the newly found courage and affection towards you having him drunk on more than the alcohol, but also your whole presence– the way your hair smells when he’s this close to you, the way you pull the sleeves of your sweater further down when you don’t know what to do with your hands, the shyness in your gaze now that you have him in your cage– and his lips act on themselves when they press themselves against yours, soft but firm, tasting the strawberry juice mixed with vodka off your mouth, a surprised gasp against his lips more than enough to invite him even further in.

He feels your fingers tugging at his shirt and your skin growing hot under his touch, leaning back from you a little and finding you looking at him with a thousand different galaxies in your eyes, enough of a confirmation to him, but he’s a man– he still needs it vocally, when he grins lazily at you. “Was this one of the things you thought about when you invited me over?”

“Maybe…” you tug at your bottom lip with your teeth, a clearly battled grin trying to settle its way onto your lips.

“You should’ve just said so, then,” he smiles when he leans into you again, a little more confidently this time and kisses you again, again and again.

You stay under the window for a while, lips pressed hard against each other as you try to learn the curves of each other’s mouths by memory, lazy hands threaded into his hair and an arm around your waist now, steadying you in place. Foreheads pressed against each other when you break away for air, giggles resonating through the room when his lips make their way towards your neck and the softness of his hair tickles your skin, fingers threaded when you tug him towards your bed and you watch him kick his shoes off before you follow him onto the soft mattress.

His head falls into your pillow and you straddle his lap, your hair falling into your face when you look down at him from your position, the newly found dominance in your position charging you with unexplainable energy, and Renjun can’t help but smile at you sweetly when your eyes meet and you eagerly lean down towards him, fingers once again intertwined with his, hands laying next to his head. Your breath fans his swollen lips that you once again find yourself attacking, the contact overwhelming you and making it hard to breathe. Who knows how long the both of you have wanted to do this but never had the courage to– it’s a miracle that it’s even happening tonight.

And with the built-up desire, you act instinctively– hands breaking away from his when you grip his cheeks and give him one last peck, lips now traveling down his jaw and neck instead, having the boy shivering under the contact, your actions slowly but surely driving him crazy when you find his sweet spot and you get a satisfied gasp from him, a reward for your tonight’s efforts.

His hand grips your hip, and something about the burn of his fingers even through the fabric of your jeans makes you move on instinct, earning yourself a sharper hiss this time that doesn’t make you stop, however– quite the opposite, actually– as you break into a wide grin at the very evident effect you have on him, your movements slow and painful, but still having him harden under you.

Goosebumps appear all over your skin when his cold fingers capture the skin of your stomach when he aimlessly tries to find a place in your body to ground yourself, but the more he answers to your movements, the more encouraged you get. He tugs you back down so you’re facing him, which does nothing to halt your painful pace as he drags out yet another kiss from you.

“If we don’t stop now, it’s gonna be really hard for me to do so later,” Renjun huffs into your ear, which only gets you more excited.

“Who said I want to stop?” you ask him, fingers trailing up his side over his shirt, yet still making him fire up and flush in his cheeks. “Do you want to stop?”

“Do I look like I wanna stop?” he snickers, shaking his head in utter disbelief, hand traveling dangerously close to the cup of your breast.

“Let’s continue, then,” you muse, peeling yourself off him only the slightest amount, hands dragging themselves down his body until you reach the waistband of his pants, gently dragging the fabric down until he’s left in front of you only with a tent in his underwear, big eyes curiously and breathlessly watching you in your actions. He could be a gentleman and tell you you don’t have to, tell you to stop and come back up and that he will pleasure you first, but the more he watches you as you palm him over the thin fabric of his boxer briefs with the dangerous doe eyes of yours, the less he wants to do just that. In all reality– who is he to deny a blowjob from you? Or anyone, for that matter?

His whole body shudders under your touch, actions careful, but so painfully satisfying. Renjun watches your face with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, the reality of it all sobering him up and making him aware of each shift of your body, each centimeter your fingertip travels against his skin, each motion that slowly makes a bundle of nerves appear in his stomach. It only gets too much for him when you lean on your elbows, nails gently pricking the skin of his thighs as your mouth hesitantly greets his dick, and he feels like a virgin again when his eyes peel off you just in case he finishes just by watching you blowing him off like a highschooler at his first blowjob, forcing himself to watch the ceiling instead.

Eyes traveling all over your room– the closed window opposite of him, the bed on the other side of the room, the walls above your bed– he gets lost in the galaxy drawn on a piece of paper that’s plastered right above your pillowcase, and another graphite sketch of eyes bearing right into your soul, as if they were watching him in the act, and another one, of a deer that looks through the shade of the trees, before it hits him.

“Oh my god what the fuck–” he gasps, and his tone must have sounded too different to the satisfied moans that have been spilling out of his mouth up until now, because you abruptly stop your movements and your gazes lock, your eyes completely mortified.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“Oh– Oh god no, fuck, you’re doing amazing, trust me,” apologies spill off his tongue at your distressed state, “it’s just– where… where did you get these?” he asks, pointing towards all the drawings taped all over your walls that he failed to notice in the heat of the moment before.

“Oh,” you cluelessly hum, eyebrows furrowed, “I found them spilling out of a trashcan close to the boy’s dorms when I was walking to class one morning, and they were so pretty I had to take them.”

“I– you like these?” Renjun asks, full of strange surprise and genuine curiosity. You’re now sitting back on your heels and looking at the boy with big eyes, still slightly clueless and very much in a weird state of distress– because why would a man ask you about the random artwork on your wall in the middle of a mindblowing blowjob?– before you nod with a slight pout, agreeing.

“Well, I wouldn’t have decorated my room with them if I didn’t like them, y’know… Why are you… why are you asking?”

“Oh,” Renjun repeats again, a dumbfounded look taking over his soft features before he sits up on the bed and scoots closer to you, a weird sense of euphoria spilling out every vein of his body when the held-back dopamine is released into his system. A wide grin appears on his lips before he stares into your eyes with a milky way mirroring behind his eyeballs, glittering orbs haphazardly gliding over your face before he reaches your lips again, pecking them one, two, three times before you break away and look at him with furrowed eyebrows, a slight crease right in between them.

“What are you–”

“I think I’m gonna literally cum just at hearing those words, Y/N,” he blurbs out before he kisses the tip of your nose again, completely endeared and close to a happy boy under the Christmas tree, and while you may enjoy that look on him, you’re still slightly confused. Huang Renjun sighs almost a little too dreamingly and smooths the wrinkle between your eyebrows with a careful swipe of his thumb, still not giving you any explanation.

“Renjun, I’m afraid I’m not quite following why this is so important to you right now,” you mumble, having your partner laugh airly– just as if all his worries escaped through the window and you fixed his life with a few drawings plastered on your wall.

“Those, dear Y/N,” he points towards the papers stuck to your walls, eyeing the specific one he worked for 3 hours on and kind of mourned the morning after he realized he threw it away, months of practice and art that maybe wasn’t even that bad in the first place ending up in the trash because of a fit of rage, “are all mine. Mine as in, I drew them… And then threw them out in the middle of a slight mental breakdown.”

You look at him for a few heartbeats, eye contact never breaking before you avert your gaze towards the artwork on the walls– it takes you a few seconds before it hits you– and you gasp, hurriedly looking back at the artist in front of you, stars glimmering in your eyes now as well, matching his excitement. “Oh my god, are you for real?”

“Yeah.”

“You drew all of these?”

“Yeah,” he nods again, breathless.

“This is an insane coincidence,” you snicker, and Renjun didn’t know he had it in him– maybe it’s still the effect of alcohol that slips off his tongue when he speaks– but he cages you in his arms as he kisses you again, a whole new world appearing in front of him when the cheesiness meets the comfort of your walls.

“You’d call this a coincidence?” he hums. “Maybe it was fate.”

Earning himself a sharp laugh, almost mocking him as you swat his shoulder, you fall back with him towards the mattress, and while the heated moment might be gone, you don’t mind at all. Renjun looks at you with a certain softness in his eyes, a pride swelling in his chest, and for a moment, it’s true and you truly did open up a new reality for him and changed his life forever, fixed all of his problems, if you will, because the appreciation it takes for a girl to tape up at least 20 of his messy artworks onto her wall after finding the stash in the trashcan on her way to class might just be the encouragement he needed to keep going with the craft.

It’s hard to believe that this shitty party actually brought him somewhere– not only to your bed, but also to your life, to a beginning of something new and a restart in something he thought he’d forever be giving up on.

“So… Do you need those back? Because I kinda like them here,” you giggle, and the crinkle of his eyes is enough of an answer to you.

“You can keep them. I’ll just draw new ones you can look at,” he muses, stealing another kiss from you and squeezing your hip, having you squeal against his mouth.

“Now, to get back to what we were doing before–”

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bluetimeombre · 4 months

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: ̗̀➛ Imagine being in a secret relationship with Regulus Black...

Let's imagine you're best friends with the marauders (cliche, i know, but gold!)

You basically have four older brothers and Sirius had always been so good to you, James saw you as a sister, Peter idolised you and Remus, he'd give the world for you (i love Remus, sorry not sorry),

And let's imagine you're also from a powerful pure blood family who fell out with the dark ways all other families were turning. You and your family made sure to distance yourself away from the dark arts, essentially turning your back on what you had known,

But then, you end up at one of those pure-blood parties and outside, looking miserable and lonely is Regulus himself,

You go out and join him cause the party is lame,

You'd seen each other around school, the Slytherin prince and Gryffindor princess,

You guys end up talking about anything, except your friends- one of which being his brother- it would ruin the whole mood,

You guys ditched the party and ran around London in his fine suit and your rich clothes,

You walked the deserted streets and when the air turned cold, Regulus draped his jacket over your shoulders,

It smelt of him,

The two of you knew you need to get back, you'd told yourself to go several times, yet neither of you could pull yourselves out of the moment, hidden between two buildings as you leaned against the wall,

Slowly he starts to lean down, till his curls brushed the top of your head and you were stretching out to nudge your nose with his and then his lips were on yours,

Probably went something like:

'We should go.'

'Definitely.'

He's leaning in. 'We'd probably be in a lot of trouble if anyone found out about this.'

'Grounded for sure.'

'And it's dark.'

'Yes.'

His curls are brushing you and he's so close you can feel his breath. 'Do you want to go?'

'Do you want to go?'

Then he kisses you. And his lips are like some forbidden paradise that you knew had to be kept from you. But his lips are soft and his hands hold on your cheeks as he pulls away for breath, but you followed his lips and chased them with your own,

If this was your sin, you'd go down burning,

His fists curled in his own jacket draped around you, drawing you into his chest,

BOY you could've died then and there,

Eventually you part and both of your lips are red and swollen so you guys have to calm down and you make your way back in silence,

Boy would've gone to bed that night caressing his lips at the thought of you,

Then you're back at school and you have to act like nothing happened,

But you're seeing each other around the castle more and more, in corridors alone and quickly turning away from each other and finding another way around so you don't have to walk past each other (because if you walked past each other there's no telling which one of you would push the other against the wall and finish what was started)

You guys catch each others eyes at breakfasts and dinners and keep looking up at the same time in class,

You're just lucky the boys can't see this,

Then one night you're in the library when technically you shouldn't be (because it was just a full moon and you're trying to bring a book to cheer Remus up)

There he is. Regulus Black, lingering in the very isle you want to be in,

You guys exchange pleasantries, though it's BRIMMED with sexual tension,

You move into the isle, looking around the bookshelf for the book you need,

At some point Regulus crept behind you, his entire front pressed into your back. You guys just fit together, perfect!

And then you've forgotten about the book and you're turning around and your lips are crashing into each other's before you can draw a breath,

It spoke of the weeks of un-said things, leaving the kiss unfinished the last time, longing that existed in your souls long before you knew what it was,

Your lips were moulding together, sharing breath, his hands fisting your shirt (and maybe your skirt. he's a gentleman but he's also a teenage boy) and you're pulling at his tie and he's pushing you against the table and running his tongue into your mouth and you're nipping his bottom lip,

Good LORD,

Then you hear the shuffling of feet and the two of you are torn apart, looking at different shelves and acting as if your skins not on fire and you weren't just trying to claw your way into each other,

It was Evan and he was telling Regulus to hurry up,

Regulus asked for a minute alone and finally once his friend has gone, he's turning back and whispering to you,

'I haven't stopped thinking about you, torturing me. Please, meet me again. Down at the Black lake, tomorrow.'

You try to argue-

'Please,' he said and what could you do when he's pleading and his breath is hot in your ear. 'Let's not care about everyone else, not right now, please.'

So that's where it began. The two of you and clandestine meetings kept away from everyone else. It was sweet and scandalous,

You and Regulus would be in the library at the same time, coincidently studying for the same subjects. You had to share books, so you may as well study together and you may as well sit next to year other and he may as well rest his hand where it's most comfortable: on your thigh,

And it started in passion. Kisses and fumbling hands but soon it's talking. About the stresses and reputations to up-hold, you were the only one Regulus could speak to about it to,

So your passion turns to love,

Smirks across the hall and classes becomes smiles and shimmering eyes,

When you guys pass in corridors, if you're both on your way somewhere, you'll brush hands, holding on for a moment before carrying on your day,

But I imagine Regulus having this move:

Let's say you walk past him and give him the look (and you look irresistible in your uniform that he can never say no to you, no matter what you want) so he pretends to realise he's going the wrong way and will check nobody's watching before he follows you while keeping a distance,

Your guys pain meeting places are the astronomy tower, the black lake and the library,

I imagine, once you guys make it official between you, there isn't a night you don't spend together. Nothing has to happen, it's just a fact Regulus sleeps better with you in his arms,

Whether you each sneak into the dorm and pull the curtains around it and making several charms to keep quiet and everyone away or if you guys have the room of requirement,

And it would be hard to be around your friends when they pick on Regulus or his friends, so you try not to be apart of it,

(I think Remus would probably be the first to catch on but let's save that for later)

I just think a forbidden romance between Regulus and you is top tier shit!!!

#regulus black imagines #regulus black #regulus deserved better #regulus being regulus #regulus x reader #regulus x you #regulus x y/n #timothee x y/n #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet

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bless-my-demons · 11 months

Text

Redamancy: Chapter Three

Jasper Hale x Reader

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None

Notes: So sorry last weekend’s chapter was late this week, I’m back to my regularly scheduled posting! I’m so excited so many of you like this series so far!!

Word Count: 1131

Series Masterlist

• January 25, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

My second day at Forks high school started much smoother than the first. It was pretty much uneventful until I decided to eat lunch alone outside on the picnic tables in the quad. It was an overcast day much like all the others and maybe a little chilly, but still decent enough since it wasn’t currently raining. It made for the perfect condition being that no one else really wanted to eat outside.

That is, until I spotted none other than Jasper Hale headed in my direction.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks, pointing to the opposite end of the table I’m currently occupying.

“Not at all.” I respond, idly tidying my area self consciously.

“Sorry, sometimes it’s a little overwhelming inside and I come out here to get away.” He says by way of explanation, laying down the sketch pad he carried with him along with a few pencils and a smudge stick. “Mostly I just come out here to draw uninterrupted.” He sits and flips to an empty page, tilting it a little away from my view.

“I get it, large crowds aren’t my thing either. Plus in the two days I’ve known Emmett I can already tell that he probably creates a hostile drawing environment.” I finish with a light chuckle, turning my attention toward the unfinished apple in my hand.

“You draw too?” He asks, eyebrows lifting as he begins a rough sketch on the blank paper.

“Oh heck no, I don’t have any artistic abilities like that, as much as I wish I did.” I frown, taking a bite of my apple.

“I didn’t think I had it in me either, but I took some classes, watched some videos online, and doodled around a lot. Finally got the hang of it although I still don’t really think I’m that good.” He trails off, concentrating on his pencil strokes. “It helps with the stress though, especially when there’s a lot going on.”

“That is… actually kind of neat. Having an outlet that’s also inspiring, creating art and it centering you in the process.” I muse out loud, watching a face beginning to take shape on his paper.

I’m about to ask who he’s drawing when the bell signaling the end of lunch rings out in the empty air surrounding us. I gather my trash and stand while he tucks his supplies away.

“Thanks for keeping me company today.” I tell him as I gaze into his beautifully golden eyes, not quite ready to part ways with him.

“Thanks for allowing me to disturb your peace and quiet.” And as if reading my mind, “Mind if I walk you to your next class?”

“Oh um, sure.” Trying not to seem too excited by the proposition of spending more time in this gorgeous boy’s presence. I tuck some loose strands of hair behind my ear and walk towards him.

“Lead the way, darlin’.” He announces, sweeping his arm in the direction of the main school building, a smirk on his lips.

I laugh and shake my head at his antics, a blush creeping up my cheeks as I walk past him in the direction of my economics class.

Ditching my trash in the trash can as we leave the quad, I miss the way he grins at the accomplishment of making me giggle. I also fail to notice the astounded looks of his adopted siblings as we pass them unaware of their presence through the windows of the cafeteria. Faces reflecting their shocked thoughts at seeing their brother openly flirting with a female compared to his normal stoic facade.

“How did you do it?” Emmett asks, leaning against the locker next to mine.

“Could you be a little more specific?” I ask, a little confused by his blunt question.

“You’ve been here less than a week and my brother is wrapped around your little finger.” He says, holding up his pinky to wiggle in my face.

I laugh and shut my locker, “Emmett, I’ve had all of like two interactions with Jasper, you’re looking into this a little too much.”

“He usually keeps to himself, this isn't the normal Jasper we’re talking about.” He falls into step slightly behind me on my way to the last class of the day, his large build not moving through the throng of students as quickly as I am.

I turn to look at my new friend, “I literally have no clue, it’s probably nothing Em!” My heart picking up speed at just the thought of Jasper. Is he actually interested in me? Is that what Emmett is getting at?

There’s no way, beautiful people like him don’t go for people like me.

I turn and leave Emmett behind in the hallway as students finish rushing through the halls, the tardy bell ringing.

American History, the class I share with Jasper Hale and it also happens to be the last class of the day. Unfortunately though, his assigned seat is on the other side of the room. At least it’s more forward than mine, leaving me to observe him for most of the class period without him seeing.

History is also my worst subject; whether it’s world or US history, I hate it all the same. So many mistakes and atrocities, I wish I could let it flow in one ear and out the other without having to remember it for tests.

Today though, I get the sense our teacher has had a difficult day since he’s decided to let us work together freely. Seeing as I don’t really know anyone yet, I’m forced to work alone.

As if he could feel my discomfort and irritation with the assignment, Jasper Hale appears at the edge of my peripheral vision, claiming the abandoned desk next to mine and turning a few heads of our classmates.

“You’re thinking so loud I could practically hear it from across the room.” He mutters lowly without looking up from his worksheet.

“I’m thinking too loud?” I respond defensively as I cut him a look that would normally skin boys alive.

“Would you like some help or not, doll?” He asks, a grin sliding across his lips as his eyes meet mine in challenge.

“I-uh, I hate history.” I manage to blurt out, a little flustered that he so easily bypassed my frustrated facade without a blink.

“I do want that explanation eventually, but we have work to finish and only,” He breaks eye contact to glance at the clock above the board, “thirty seven minutes left before you’re on your own.”

“Alright Hale, what did you get for number four?” I deflate and accept his offer to save me from the misery of suffering through this stupid assignment alone.

#jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock hale #twilight fanfiction #twilight #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper whitlock #bless-my-demons #redamancy series #slow burn #female reader insert

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phillippadgettwrites · 21 days

Text

The First Time, Every Time: E.B.E.

Rated X / 2105 words / Tagging @today-in-fic / Posted on AO3

He makes it to the front doors of her apartment building before he turns back, the photograph that she just insisted is a fake clutched tightly in one hand. He’s irritated and angry, in part because she’s always pushing back on him, and in part because she might be right. He does tend to overlook contradictory evidence when he’s hot on a lead like this. He does want to believe Deep Throat badly enough that it’s possible he’s not thinking clearly.

She said she trusted him. More than that, she said he’s the only person she trusts. But her trust isn’t given blindly, and he can’t decide if that’s something he resents or appreciates. He just doesn’t know what to think.

When she answers the door, his anger immediately wanes. Her eyebrows are all pushed together and she’s scanning his face for clues as to why he’s back already, and he’s still not used to someone looking at him like this all the time. Like they care.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, opening the door wider and stepping aside.

Mulder walks into her foyer and turns to face her. Truthfully, he has no idea why he came back. The conversation just felt unfinished somehow.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe? Even after the bugged pen?” he asks, more frustrated than anything.

Scully closes the door and sighs, then props her hands on her hips and levels him with an icy stare. How she manages to be intimidating at five foot nothing and with that pretty face is an X-File in itself.

“I’m a scientist, Mulder. I don’t believe anything without irrefutable evidence. A bugged pen is not evidence that your picture isn’t a fake,” she says sternly, with a nod to the envelope in his hand.

Mulder huffs and shakes his head, though he can’t disagree with her.

“I just wish you could be a little more open minded,” he says, and Scully presses her lips into a tight line.

“Your skeptical partner,” she says under her breath, and he feels a little flash of embarrassment at the memory of Langly’s comment. He may have vented to them a bit shortly after Scully started working with him, but he could also tell during their brief introduction that the Gunmen liked her. A lot. “You know what, Mulder, I wish that you could be a little more open minded,” she says sassily.

Mulder scoffs.

“To what, exactly?” he asks, tossing the envelope onto her kitchen table and taking one step towards her. She lifts her chin defiantly, and he has the overwhelming urge to kiss her, which catches him off guard.

“To the possibility that you’re being manipulated,” she tells him, her eyes locked on his. “To the possibility that you’re wrong.”

“What if I’m not wrong?” he asks, moving even closer, craning his neck down to bring his nose inches from hers.

Scully blinks rapidly, unmoving aside from the labored rise and fall of her chest. It’s something he’s noticed about her, a tell that she’s emotionally activated even when all other signs indicate calm. He watches for it now, listens for it on the phone. Her breathy, “Mulder, it’s me,” tells him everything he needs to know.

“If you’re so confident it’s real, why won’t you have it analyzed?” she asks, practically panting.

Mulder slips his hand into the space between their bodies, and she startles when his knuckles brush against her chest just beneath her clavicle. He fingers the gold chain around her neck, fishing the tiny cross that hangs from it out from beneath the hem of her shirt, though his eyes never leave her face.

“I have faith in my source,” he says, his voice low, and she draws in a shuddering breath.

“A faith too fragile to be questioned is hardly faith at all,” she retorts.

He has two concurrent realizations, with the backs of his fingers resting against the satiny skin of her breastbone and his face so close to hers that he can smell the wine on her breath: she is the most maddeningly stubborn person he has ever met, and he finds her immovable nature wildly arousing.

He tells himself that he absolutely cannot kiss her at the exact same moment he realizes that he already is, and he pulls away sharply, terrified. Her eyes are wide and her lips slightly parted, and she looks just as likely to slap him as she is to kiss him back.

“Sorry,” he stammers, taking one step away from her. “I don’t know why I did that.”

His head is hung in embarrassment, so he doesn’t see her moving closer. He feels the painful press of her fingernails digging into the back of his neck, and when he looks up her mouth immediately covers his. She’s teetering on her tiptoes, anchoring herself to him with an arm slung across his shoulders, so he stoops down a bit to compensate for their mismatched statures. Her hands move to his face and her kisses grow hungrier, soon accompanied by little whimpers that make his head spin.

“Scully,” he tries to say, but she swallows the sound of her own name and shakes her head with a muffled “Uh-uh.”

What does that mean? Is he supposed to stop her? Should he let it happen?

Her fingers brush over the fly of his slacks and he jumps, grabbing her hand to still it and pulling his head back, just out of reach.

“What are you doing?” he asks breathlessly, very aware that she just made full contact with his very hard dick.

She just stares at him for half a second, her expression unreadable.

“I don’t know,” she says, looking mildly shocked. “Should I stop?” she asks, flashing her eyes to his groin.

Mulder’s jaw tenses. He knows what the right answer is, but he can’t bring himself to say it.

“I don’t know,” he parrots back to her.

A beat passes wherein they look at each other, his hand still wound around her wrist. He knows she won’t keep going unless she’s absolutely sure he wants this. He can feel his heart beating in his cock, and in his periphery he can see the generous tent it’s creating at the front of his slacks. Scully’s tongue slides across her bottom lip and his cock jumps, making up his mind for him.

“No,” he says suddenly, tugging her closer by the arm and sending the front of her body colliding with his.

After that initial hesitation, things move exceptionally quickly. She pushes his suit jacket off his shoulders and then strips off his belt so aggressively that the leather snaps loudly, setting off gooseflesh all over his arms. He manages to get her top off before she slips her hand under his boxers, and he struggles with the clasp on her bra as she drags her fingernails over the papery skin of his scrotum. They’re still standing beside her kitchen table, and all the lights are on. He truly has no idea what will happen next.

Cool air slides over his legs when she pushes both his slacks and his boxers off his hips and they puddle on the floor around his feet. The sound of his heart pounding in his ears is so loud that it drowns out any rational thought. The only one that makes it through is sex . Sex and Scully , two words that he has carefully compartmentalized but are suddenly forcing their way into the very same box as she strokes him firmly with one hand and pops the buttons on his shirt with the other. Meanwhile, he’s got two handfuls of her perky little tits and is working up the nerve to divest her of her pants.

It doesn’t feel even a little bit real. Not when he takes her by the shoulders and guides her back to the table, not when his palms run down the length of her naked thighs as he removes her panties, not when he hoists her up and sets her bare ass down right on top of the manila envelope that brought him here in the first place.

“You’re sure?” he asks, though the fact that she’s got her hand wrapped around his shaft and is guiding him into her wet heat makes the question somewhat rhetorical.

Sex. Scully. Sex. Scully.

She takes him in with a gasp, and his knees wobble when she immediately quivers around him.

“ Shhhhiiiiit ,” he hisses under his breath.

He isn’t prepared for this. It’s been a few days since he jerked off, and under normal circumstances he’d spend as much time as necessary to make sure she got off before he even entertained the idea of coming himself. But it’s Scully, and she’s naked, and her little tits are perfect, and her cunt feels like heaven, and he’s so jacked up on all this E.B.E. shit that he’s operating on a hair trigger as it is.

Baseball. Parking tickets. Budget meetings. Airport security. He imagines something banal with each thrust, trying not to notice the slick sounds of just how wet she is.

It’s not working. Her hips jump up off the table as she slams herself into him, holding steady with one hand on the back of his neck and the other planted on the tabletop. They hold their faces close together, not quite kissing but not giving enough distance that they might meet eyes and realize how stupid this is. Mulder closes his eyes to block out the visual input of her tight pink nipples bouncing on every thrust and holds on for dear life, determined not to make this both a mistake and a disappointment.

“Oh god,” Scully shouts just before she clamps down on him.

Stars burst behind his eyes and he quickly goes from on the edge to careening over it, coming so hard he can barely stay standing. Scully throbs powerfully around him, moaning beautifully in his ear while her cunt strokes every last drop of cum out of him. By the time they’re both finished, she’s on her back and he’s draped over her, listening to her heart slow and wondering what the hell will happen now.

“There’s a roll of paper towels on the counter there,” Scully says, pointing just over his shoulder.

Mulder slowly stands and pulls out of her, and they both politely avert their eyes while he grabs the roll of towels and rips one off before handing it to her. After pulling his pants back up, he quickly retrieves her clothes from the various places they landed and turns his back while she dresses. The manila envelope is now sporting a wet spot in the shape of a wide “V,” which he carefully wipes away. Only then does it occur to him that they didn’t use a condom.

“I’m on birth control,” Scully says, as though reading his thoughts. He turns and looks at her just as she’s tucking her shirt back into her slacks, offering her an awkward smile that she returns.

“That’s reassuring,” he says.

He taps the edge of the damp envelope against his palm, trying to think of something to say that won’t come across as flip or crude.

“I’m sorry,” Scully begins, giving him only quick glances. “That was very unprofessional.”

Mulder laughs, and she looks at him sharply with a mildly bemused expression.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “Pretty sure it was a mutually unprofessional indiscretion. Takes two to tango, as they say.”

Scully smiles bashfully. “Right,” she says with a nod.

“We got a bit carried away. Happens,” he offers, and he sees her relax.

“Shouldn’t happen again, though,” she says, and he detects a hint of a questioning inflection.

“Right,” he agrees. “Well, I better get going,” he says as he moves towards the door. “Need to see a man about having a photograph analyzed.”

Scully’s expression of surprise quickly gives way to amusement.

“So that’s all it took to convince you, then,” she observes, clearly mildly embarrassed by her own joke.

“I am but a man,” he teases back, delighted by her genuine smile. “We’re um…we’re good?” he asks.

She meets his eye and nods. “Yup,” she says, seeming confident that they can move past this, if not still a bit chagrined that it happened in the first place.

“See you in the morning,” he says as she opens the door to let him out. He takes one step beyond the threshold, but then turns back and leans down to bring his lips to her ear. “I think it’s remotely plausible that somebody thinks you’re hot,” he whispers, then presses a kiss to her cheek before he turns and leaves.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic

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thatdeadaquarius · 9 months

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(my first thought after the stone tablet ask)

The acolytes watching their creator burn all their written stories and fanfiction out of embrassment after realizing they can never write something legible to tyvat's citizens:

PLEASE- I LIVE AND BREATH TEYVAT NOT HAVING GOTTEN INTO THEIR NOVEL ERA YET BC I JUST LIKE TO THINK THEY DO STUFF BACKWARDS FROM US

Gif is literally any teyvat person who sees u with ur writing book out 💀 (bc no computers :P)

For reference i think they mean this one

OK BUT WAS WAITING ON SOMEONE TO REPLY WITH THIS MEME AT SOME POINT BC IT FITS SO MANY POSTS ON MY BLOG SO WELL LMAOO

tbh writing and other creative talents r my fav (besides language obv) to explore in sagaus

like bc its such a cool connection to the OG concept of sagau (actually being a video game that's just self-aware part)

like if them being a video game/creation is their whole livelihood, id think other creative skills would matter a lot to the citizens of Teyvat/allogenes

visual art like drawing/sculpting seen as most lifelike magic or something to them, so like anything u draw kinda comes to life in teyvat

writing is literally like the magic lifeblood of their planet (lines of code? like maybe thats why) and also bc it can be read by anyone

im abt to post smth abt that soon, abt how if we take teyvat this way, they literally have never read/seen a full-length novel (just really small short stories really)

so ur fanfics must seem like CLASSICS LMAO (ur 50k unfinished angst fanfic is like a webtoon for scholars and romance readers alike bc "its a romantic epic this is incredible your majesty!"💀)

☆

tysm for the ask!! sorry i didnt see this sooner, some asks get flooded out by the longer ones T-T srry again!

tysm for the meme too, hehe theyre my fav gift from askers besides any random ideas you guys have

Safe Travels Deafening Dreamer,

💀♒

☆

♡the beloveds♡

srry abt the short posts loves! longer coming soon! :)

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks

#genshin sagau #genshin isekai #sagau #my asks #genshin imagines #gender neutral reader #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin #genshin sagau x reader #inconsistent tags who

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aardvaark · 7 months

Text

only murders in the building s3e8 spoilers ahead!

this is the best photo i could get of the strips of paper that have been pieced together so far. all we can see is:

"02/16/2023

mmence on

sion, and

until and

(line gap)

society,

performing

composer

however,

right to

where it"

now that’s… fairly vague, lol. not too much to be gathered, except that it relates to the play itself - words like "performing" and "composer" seem to show that. in other words, it’s probably not the autopsy report or someone’s diary. the first unfinished word is probably "commence". this makes it sound formal. again, unlikely to be a diary or a letter to a close friend or something.

so what could it be? personally, my current standing theory is that it’s Maxine’s review. i have a few reasons for this:

we know that Maxine has written a review. yes, she was originally writing by hand and her pen ran out of ink, but she mentions in episode 2 that it was some of her best writing which sounds like she had finished it later, plus it’s her job to write these reviews, im sure she must have finished it. and so there exists a "vitriolic" absolute pan of the play somewhere. one that we’ve never seen and which Maxine didn’t show to Oliver. maybe we can’t see it because it’s been shredded.

the language, from the small bits we can see, would make sense for a review. first she states when the play "commences" for its opening night. then she reviews the various elements of the play, such as the "performing" and notes things like who the "composer" is and whether they did a good job. the word "however" makes me think that the writer is giving some sort of a negative opinion there. which, you know, is what the review is.

Maxine is a character we were introduced to in the second episode but really haven’t explored. i don’t necessarily think she is the murderer; in fact, i can’t even think of a motive she’d have. but, i think they introduced her for a reason.

a scathing review could absolutely generate anger or violence in someone. imagine you’ve put your heart and soul into your performance or crew role for months, only to get insulted and for the show to be an utter failure. it could mean the end of your career or the loss of a lot of money.

but even if it is Maxine’s review, and even if someone was upset by it, why would that lead to Ben’s death? i do have a theory for that. it might not be the correct one, but it’s my best shot at the moment:

Cliff and Donna (the mother and son producer people) have repeatedly expressed that this play is high stakes for them. it’s Cliff’s producing debut and they need it to be perfect. the problem is, the show was far from perfect - something that they may have already realised to an extent, but which that pan confirmed. plus, a terrible review by a famous reviewer would lose them money and reputation. if one or both of them got their hands on Maxine’s review, it makes sense that they’d destroy it and want to put an end to the show in a way that can’t be blamed on them. an accidental death on stage - with the autopsy report altered to day there wasn’t any poison, and we know it was altered cause it was negative for meth - would solve their problem, as well as draw them a lot of press attention (any publicity is good publicity), and finally, would prevent the review from ever being published because no one would publish a scathing review of a recently deceased young man’s performance. i can imagine that the producers would have access to and knowledge about the set and theatre, which would allow for the spooky ghost stuff that seemed like more than a coincidence in "Ghost Light". they’d also have access to Ben’s room to plant the poison cookies (because c’mon, he was clearly talking to a plate of cookies in the dressing room video).

additionally, Donna’s speech to Loretta in the bathroom makes me suspect her more. and Loretta’s song, while clearly more about sacrificing herself for her own son in that moment, could double as meaning that Donna would kill for Cliff’s sake to protect his reputation in the industry. and as Loretta says, poisoning as a murder method tends to point to a woman murderer - this is actually true according to data on homicides. Donna is a woman, she would do anything for her son, the review would ruin his reputation in her mind, she poisons Ben to end the play.

then there’s Ben’s apologies in episode 1. to Cliff… well, he forgets Cliff’s name for one thing, and then he basically just says he’s sorry for being so annoying to them and complaining about his dressing room. then he continues to complain about his dressing room before moving on.

while Donna may have done the first murder, i don’t think she did the second. perhaps it was Cliff, pissed at his non-apology and wishing the man was dead for real. perhaps it was someone else entirely (probably a man since they haven’t had a male murderer so far and have even pointed that out).

but again, this is still a very loose theory based solely on the possibility that that document is the review. what else do y’all think it could be? or what else could have happened if it is indeed the review?

#omitb spoilers #omitb #only murders in the building #omitb theories #omitb season 3 #omitb s3 #wren speaks

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the-s1lly-corner · 6 months

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I was rewatching the Mulan films to get that childhood nostalgia, and I remembered how much I love Mushu...

So I thought "what would the cast of TADC x reader be like, who is practically a copy of Mushu's personality", I imagine that in appearance he would be a Chinese dragon humanoid but with his personality

TADC cast x mushu type! reader !

im finally back on my computer, woohoo! ill probably answer a few requests, since i wanna draw stuff today </3 i dont really like leaving my wips unfinished for more than a few days TToTT side note i gotta rewatch mulan, used to be one of my favorite movies as a kid (though i barely watched movies back then so uh uh its not like there were many contenders </3) relying on the good ol character wiki to help me through this because its been so long since ive watched the movie

CAINE:

i think caine would actually really enjoy you, a lot! in a weird way caine gives off similar energy, with the confidence and such you know? so you two probably bounce right off each other and build one another up... though sometimes this leads to more insane IHAs because you insist to caine that youre more capable than you actually are... as mean as that sounds... the only reason that things dont get too too chaotic is because caine, in my opinion, does hold some significant level of care for the circus members (at least as it stands for the pilot)

like would he die for them? probably not.. but he cares enough to keep the circus (mostly) safe and bothers with keeping them mentally stimulated and entertained; he doesnt even watch the IHAs himself so its likely that its not for his own entertainment

ponders

im getting off topic, though, point is i think you two would be friends !

POMNI:

honestly i struggle a lot with writing pomni, but i think the two of you would be friendly with one another ! i think she might be a little taken aback by your confidence, but hey, its not like its to anyones detriment, right? well... IHAs can get interesting, with you either insisting to run in, leroy jenkins style, into the conflict; or trying to push someone else to do (oftentimes ragatha, who i feel would be the most likely to do the most in IHAs if theres nothing pulling her away from it (cough cough checking on kaufmo cough cough)

honestly my brains a little fuzzy trying to remember mulan, but i feel like you and pomni would have a similar dynamic to mulan and mushu as well

JAX:

i think jax would try to push you more than he does the others since oftentimes your reactions are more... out there, youre so desperate to prove yourself as this big strong individual that you kind of make an ass out of yourself. and jax revels in your humiliation everytime someone manages to humble you.. in terms of the other stuff, i think he would tease and make fun of any abilities you have.. assuming you also have (some) fire abilities like mushu, jax would just call you names like "matchstick" and "lighter boy", making fun of your weak fire powers

RAGATHA:

as mentioned in pomnis part, you and ragatha have... an interesting dynamic... but i can also see you two having a similar dynamic to mushu and cri-kee . with you being bold and ragatha keeping you grounded. often you two end up together during IHAs with either ragatha seeking you out or someone pushing you to her

not much to be said, i think ! very similar dynamic, ragatha keeps you in check, though i think she would occasionally scold you if you did something particularly reckless

KINGER:

ooo this ones a hard one, but i think it would be similar to my personal take on what his and caines dynamic would be but with you as a fellow circus member rather than the ring master... has respect for you (though i think kinger would have respect for just about everyone who has come and gone to the circus, he doesnt strike me as the type to just diss others unless theres a reason he doesnt like the person... and even then he would mind his own business, i think) which... honestly, i can see this either making your ego more intense or actually mean something to have someone actually respect you.. ponders... character degradation(?) or character growth.. both are fun routes, i think! ill leave this one up to you...

slides my favorite kinger thing

you guys tell each other stories about your adventures, both of you hyping them up way more than they need to be

ZOOBLE:

writing zoobles part first because i think that they may be the hardest, but in the kindest way possible i dont think they would be able to stand your personality... maybe youre a little loud and out there, or maybe they just dont like your humor or often times self centered nature... i think they would tolerate you just enough to get through IHA but forming a friendship with zooble is going to be tough... though, they do find it amusing when you and jax butt heads

GANGLE:

very similar to pomnis part, i think... but like, gangle is shy whereas pomni is nervous so things are a little different... i think gangle would just along with most stuff you decide to do, that you rope her into, because she doesnt have a backbone to say no or suggest something else.. well she doesnt have bones in general but... you know? honestly she kind of envies you in a weird way, she wishes she had the confidence you have so sometimes she probably approaches you for advice.. how this ends up is up to you !

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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kosmicdream · 4 months

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The FATE of FEAST FOR A KING

.. and Nasty Red Dogs…

And some other miscellaneous thoughts about comics, writing, and time.... AND ENDINGS...

=============

As I’m approaching 10 years on FFAK and NRD is currently 5, I’ve been reflecting a lot on How far this journey with comics has taken me and how far I still have yet to go. For those unaware, my first webcomic was actually Eggshells, which started in 2011, but i only started posting pages publicly in 2013. It too is unfinished, but its planned for 7 chapters. (I’m currently working on chapter 5, which probably will come out early next year.) I have 9 ongoing comics I’m working on. NINE!! 3 of those are FFAK related. (FFAK, After Dinner Treat, and the prequel series “Help.”) It is so many comics though. And beyond that! I have two other stories I’ve been working on for the past few years in secret, one being Nice Blue Cats, which I might still draw as a comic someday.. As well as a series of “one shots” that is meant to be its own collection. Slugmom and “The Teacher & The Fairy” are part of these one shot collections. Which, uh, it was designed to help me practice writing short stories. Which TT&TF is now going to be three parts long, and roughly 300 pages. So I guess that’s short enough…? Ha.. laughs… Anyway, as I was saying.. Sometimes I’m sure, readers might wonder. “Do you ever feel overwhelmed, with so many projects Kosmic?” Yeah dude. I sure fucking do. I got 9 of them! That’s more than a full pokemon team of projects that are potentially a decade + of work. A couple of them already are a decade old/older at this point. (Praeymoon is actually one of my oldest-lasting projects, even tho its first chapter only finally released in 2023.. I first attempted to draw ch1 back in 2016, but was unable to finish it and scrapped the “full color” angle i was trying then. ) All my current ongoing comic projects are as follows: Feast for a King, Nasty Red Dogs, Eggshells, The Teacher & the Fairy, Replacer, The Eyes of Miasma, FFAK: After Dinner Treat, FFAK: Help, are all written. The only one which isnt fully written is Praeymoon, which I don’t mind because the way that story is organized is almost more of a sandbox-fantasy world of mini stories. I’ll be honest, if you havent heard of Replacer or The Eyes of Miasma, I don’t blame you- its not that i don’t like those stories. They just kind of are the “most neglected” comics yet I’m also kind of amazed they exist at all, like I DONT know how I found the time to draw over 100 pages for both of them. They also have fully written outlines and all things considered, are probably only going to be under 400-500 pages in length. But that’s still a decent amount of work there. Its been ten years since I more or less started making webcomics… and as I plan, and try to calculate all my projects for the next 10 years, my main priority at the moment is well.. Finishing all of these fucking stories one way or another. Its hard! I don’t know if I can as I put way too much on my plate. But at the same time like.. Whatever. I could easily drop most of them, if I felt inclined to - but I don’t. They are my library of work, and I’ve sort of made an artist oath to myself that I will see as many of them to the end as I can. I’m excited that three are very close to its end. (Nasty Red Dogs, The Teacher & the Fairy, and Eggshells.) After that well.. I’ll see what I can cross off my list next once I get there.. That’s still going to take years to get those done. But hopefully not too many.

[Spoilers for potential LENGTHS of FFAK/NRD.. And other things.. I speak very transparently about writing and working on comics here AND including my thoughts on ENDINGS.. You’ve been warned]

I’m comfortable enough sharing that the fairy comic is 3 parts, Eggshells is 7 chapters, but when it comes to FFAK/NRD.. Its much harder to give an estimate, or if sharing those things will only be disappointing or annoying to hear about.. If you have ever been around me for more than 10 minutes, i am constantly talk about the “length left” on these projects a lot anyway. At night, i count them in my head. In the day, I write little lists as if I’ve forgotten the names of them.. They are MY LIST.

But for those who do not know and wish to, NRD is likely going to end with 10 chapters. I have extended this in the past, so it could still change.. but it only really has gotten “longer” due to pacing of scenes rather than the actual content. And Honestly, it was paced out specifically to avoid this next chapter. Not that I didn’t want to draw it, its because i was Scared to do it.. Why? Because there’s cars I have to draw in it. And dogs. I have drawn those things before, at least once or twice. But I do not enjoy drawing cars or dogs. Dogs are okay now, but i hate that they have legs. Dont give me references, i have those. Its just how my brain is, with those fuckign legs and how there’s four of them. I know practice makes perfect. Or do-able. I have drawn amost 1000 pages of NRD, i dont remember how they bend and i’ve forgiven myself for knowing there’s just some things god cannot do, which is to give kosmic the ability to look at a dog leg and understand. Anyway. Because of this reason, somehow, finishing NRD with it only possibly being 4 more chapters, still feels harder than finishing ALL of FFAK - which (drumroll) might be .. only around 10 or 12 chapters left. Yes, you heard me- for the second AND third arc. 10 or 12 more. Will that also change? Probably!!!!!! Like, yes… its been 9 years and I’ve completed a lot more than just 10 chapters of comics in that time.. But wrapping up a story is way harder and I dont know what that’s like..yet! But i feel still confident that i will. I mean, i don’t really have any other choice than to experience it. I used to recoil and fall apart just emotionally contemplating finishing FFAK. my FUCKING baby. My joy. You mean that has to end?? NEVER. My attachment to it and the characters was incomparable to anything else I had done, and in my mind ever WILL make… (and that is still true.) But.. I’m okay with that now and I actually look forward to seeing how it could end up. Even if its bad!

Its kind of weird to say, I just don’t really think it will be.. super good? Like.. it could be? I don’t know how readers will react. I dont even know how I feel about the whole thing.. I have felt so many feelings about this comic already, now I’m kind of.. Past it in a new stage. Zen like peace almost. There’s just.. so much that I wanted to PUT in FFAK and so much i could STILL put in. But I kind of just am okay with what i wrote, does that even make sense? The whole comic has felt like such a fluke to me, from the very start. And I managed to accidentally make so many great things in it I don’t actually understand sometimes. And my dreams for the comic has been nearly limitless. I couldn’t possibly contain all the feelings I’ve had over this story over the many years I have been making it, and all the incredible narrative outcomes I could see the characters going in.. the possibilities, the parallels.. The anime music videos.. I would NOT compare my writing style to GRRM, I haven’t read his books. but I can’t help but feel a bit like a weird baby version of him with the amount of cast members I have to push around and draw.. And I want to be clear. If FFAK was written as a book, it wouldn’t happen. I cannot write books. I do not think writing books is easier/faster than making comics, but sometimes it is hard to have to draw everyone. Point is, I understand the reality of a long-term comic project now, I have numbers and logs to prove it and my range. And I’m fairly consistent, even in my low days. So.. in recent years my writing style has.. has changed to accommodate.. Those.. General Realities i’ve observed in myself.

That’s why the second arc excites me. It has a lot of uhh, urgency that underlies it. You might have already noticed a change in the tone in chapter 16, which I’ve been working on for almost a year now. (I mean, I’ve been working on the written version for.. LOL.. much longer.) Maybe you haven’t! It could all just be from my own POV with how differently i feel that I delegate time to characters now. I did not start “writing” FFAK until chapter 10, and then i did not really start WRITING writing ffak until about.. Honestly, i want to say as late as 2019. It TOOK SO LONG you guys. I dont even know how many fucking thousands of pages of madness word documents I’ve got, with revision after revision and trying to list, contain, every possibly plotline… character backstory.. Blah blah blah.. Ive cut it down so much its impressive only to me. I don’t remember my lore anymore , and i love it. My readers probably know my lore better, and I don’t love it. Except when it benefits me. Then Its good. I would not describe myself as a RUTHLESS cut THROAT author, im actually too way sentimental to really let go of anyone. That’s why it took me so long to kill off Rock, but also because I wanted spoon to look really sexy and evil and that’s hard to do sometimes when I cant remember what half side he is. And when he was flipping around, I had to actually make a paper doll for him so i could TRY .. TRY to draw his arm on the correct side. Sometimes I didn’t. I just let it go if the drawing is good enough and i let it be a fun game for the readers to catch. But anyway, That’s why characters like Aeschylus are still around. Now that time has passed, I kind of regret it. Rome was right.. I dont need Aeschylus here and I’m mad he brought his friend Randall too. That being said, they’re some of my favorite characters in this arc even if they’re totally useless. In general, i have tried my best to not repeat all my writing sins and all my regrets of arc 1. I would not have been able to do this without the help of NRD to help get me to see that I can get attached and motivated to write new stories. When I hit my writing block in 2016/2017, it almost broke FFAK. FFAK still continued, but it also didn’t. But i was patient, and i worked through it.. And now I look forward to the ends of my comics, not because I want them to end but I’m very deeply excited for all the new opportunities my imagination to go to. I don’t know what that will be like. I don’t know how long it will still take me to get there, but I have it on [digital] paper and it does feel good to see that. Its affirming. I feel like i have a clear mission and I feel strong enough to really do it and commit to it. The second arc has barely started but in my heart I’ve made peace with the ending, whatever it might actually result as.

Plus if I finish it and its so bad, I’m sure that will be inspiring in itself! People might actually write fanfics!! I think a lot of readers are NOT going to enjoy the ships, for one. The MEAN greedy part of me hopes they don’t. That’s the most ruthless part of my writing to me is the ship choices. Oh! My evil mind. I mean theres no possible way to please everyone, or even myself, but there is a possible way to displease a lot of people. Including myself. So that’s kind of the route I find myself drawn to. Why? Because it gets me out of the hole of like.. I dunno, being stuck.

I used to write out a lot of big posts but over the years, I’ve kinda stopped. Mostly bc they were honestly really repetitive..or about lore that didn’t truly matter too much… That hasn’t really changed. This post is more or less “im still working on it, everyone! Just hang tight! Wow it’ll be a crazy wild ride” but it also is something I wanted to write to myself as words of encouragement. This has been a tough year. Like so tough that its hard to think about. But its very nice to feel like, i guess, my drive for my stories hasn’t gone anywhere. If anything, i really feel like i’ve gone through the mourning and ego death of “not being able to write a thing how you want” and now I’ve made total peace with it. Its just gonna be what it is, and I like that actually. When my life is tough, my comics at the moment serve as a place of hope for me - and assurance that I can survive through tough years. That’s the message they have ultimately given me, finished or not. And… I honestly don’t think of FFAK or NRD as my masterpieces or anything, but i know they might very well be the only stories people will know of when they think of me. If they think of me! So I wanna do a complete job with those. Rest assured, it’ll get there. I cant make big promises about all the comics I work on… even the bonus comics for FFAK, but at least those main two are my main priorities. That has not changed. THE FIRE is still in me. Even if FFAK took a like.. Mental.. 5 year hiatus its back baby.

I’m about 30 pages in to my 50 page script for chapter 16, so I guess it’ll be around 300-400 pages more before its done. Things are picking up speed! So it could be less. I am also preparing for the monster that is the 7th nasty red dogs chapter. I cannot stress ENOUGH that this next chapter, I have put off since chapter 4. Yes, I’ve actually buffed the story out to be longer than it intended, just to avoid drawing it. I even put a horse guy in there, I never draw horses because those ALSO have legs but they’re worse than dog legs. And, its not that i didn’t want to draw this part of the comic! But I didn’t think i could do it. It intimidated me. It still does, but, I’m gonna do it already. I know chapters 8-10 will be hard too but like…eh… I know in my heart its gonna really be about 7 for me. It always has been about 7 to me.. 2024 will be a big year for my comics for sure, just because of that alone I think. Not only will I have chapter 16 done, as the first step of the 2nd arc and a new adventure of my apocalyptic wormy drama, I’ll be facing my fears of the dog variety. Its TIME.

I’m so happy people have stuck around for my work, or shared it with others, even if they’re a strange mess. Its interesting to see, who comes and goes. I still enjoy refreshing my comments every morning when I wake up, and right before I go to bed. Its comforting.

My closing thoughts on this. I don’t HATE the ending of FFAK. I… like it! Its an ending. But I LOVE the ending to NRD. i think that ones legit good, i hope. With FFAK, part of me kinda hopes that turning up the pressure on myself of proceeding anyway will help the story. I don’t really know, or expect the ending to change though LOL…. Maybe i’ll come up with something better, but it will be too late so I cant do it or something, and then we can ALL write fanfics together of something else. Then sometimes I think about GUNNM and how the first ending was retconned but then last order was like? Basically the first ending again? I dont know actually, its hard to remember. THATS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN BTW. Also the ending is not everyone dies, even though that ending is fun and tempting. I didn’t do it, because end of evangelion already exists and its got a great song to go along with it too. YES it is also tempting to have someone go “WELL That was A FEAST.. For a KING” as the like final line, but I.. it wont wont. I prommy i take the ending seriously.

The reason I wanted to write all this, with webcomics, I think in general too people are so scared about writing their big comics that take 328523895235 years and the ending being bad. I see so many webcomics just, kinda die before the finale.. Which I totally understand, But I just.. Wanna show everyone that its much better and much more satisfying to just write the ending even if its a fucking disaster LOL. Because ultimately, its a webcomic. I don’t even know how to spell but people read mine! And so.. If theres anything I feel like i can promise and deliver to the world of the internet/my readers, is this big fucking disaster mess.. But it will end someday! And I’ll miss it. I hope readers will too, when that day comes (?) in probably another… 10 years…. idk.... BUT UNTIL THEN.. I hope you’ll enjoy the rest of chapter 16!!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-Kosmic Dream

#ffak #feast for a king #nasty red dogs #long post #webcomics

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flymetosnarryland · 9 months

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GTFO.

Did anyone miss Muggle London like I did? 🙃

This series as a part of "Infraction" has grown incredibly. It helped me understand a lot about things I want to write and made me think about "Infraction" as... well, my first real baby, lol. I wrote one Snarry, "Oblivion" already, but I take that story as testing the waters. I tried to know Harry and Severus, placing them in situation close to, eh, something that happened to me in a way. It means a lot to me and I'm proud of myself that I managed to write a fic from the start to the end.

"Infraction" on the other hand... this one is going to be really FAT piece of work and I'm excited over the moon about it. First chapter and the first part of second already landed on Ao3, but when am I going to finish the next part of it? (If anyone is interested at all, because I personally don't touch unfinished pieces, knowing how it works 🤣)

Well, to be honest, I decided to not rush it. Not because I don't know what to write. The main outline of the story has 40k+ words. It appeared that planning a series of murders is not so easy 😂 especially when the politics are part of it (I mean, Merlin... that's the last thing I thought I will EVER write, lol) and on top of that I have some complicated relationships (or, I suppose, a cherry on molten chocolate cake 🤤). Which makes me shiver and scream, that much I want to jump into writing it again. But the more I am thinking about the plot and fitting everything I need into it (of course writing it down), the more I'm surprised that I am able to figure out something that seems damn complex to me and my three brain cells 😂 I want to be proud of this story. I want it to be... maybe not perfect, but as good as I can see, it can be. And I enjoy the idea of growing as hobby writer. It makes me really happy. Also it's my first serious CRIME story. I know I said before that I always wanted to write crime. I always thought though it's out of my range, you know, I'm too dumb to bring something interesting that other people could possibly like as I do. But with this story I'm trying new things (like bringing Marauders to life), I'm thinking in advance, I'm on both sides: the detective and the serial killer and... GOSH. I really think it will have sense and be worth to waste some time on reading it, lol!

Also there is Snarry AUctoberfest on the way and, you know, I decided I'll try to write something for the fest for the first time! (It's my year of many first times and I really like it!) Funny thing, it appears that my fic for the fest will be a little test to what I want to do with "Infraction." When it occured to me (don't ask how it happen, but the idea I've had in mind turned 180 degree and I couldn't help it! Had to just go for it 😂) I was stunned. But in the same way it's a great opportunity to try new things, see how it will go and how it will work before I'll jump back to my baby.

If anyone checked "Infraction", please don't be mad or sad or... disappointed or angry (?), that I'm not updating it yet. This fic is absolutely my main focus and I'm tinkering and working on it. As for everything, I need time (and probably cut some other projects while I will write it; so less drawing going to be main part of the writing process 🙃 I suppose in the last quarter of the year; except if I'll have my holiday from work!)

Ah, dang. I wrote a lot here, I suppose? Less shite than messy personal stuff, but still something I guess, I wanted to share? Even if I think it's pointless and worthless, because who cares, lol. I'm learning, trying to share, I think. I should, as I wasn't doing it at all and it suppose to help me to... leave the shell of person that other people think I am. Because I grew to be someone irl that I'm really tired of being. Of pretending to be. How stupid it all sounds it's beyond me and I still deny to admit it.

#snarry #Severus Snape #Harry Potter #Muggle London #and some personal nonsense

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retellingthehobbit · 2 months

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Your retelling, will it be implying a Thorin/Bilbo attraction?

I ask because I just discovered that ship and when I looked it up on tumblr, it led me to your work lolol

Every time someone asks me this I feel more like I'm making a Real Adaptation! I love the idea of people following this webcomic for years while analyzing the gay subtext as if they're waiting to see if Supernatural will make Destiel canon. a powerful feeling. The short answer is yes! The long answer is that it's complicated, and that if you're not a Bilbo/Thorin Person you should still stick around because I'm going to handle it in a very funky way that is not what you're expecting (also at the rate I draw, it won't be "canon" in the comic for approximately 2039482289798334534534534534 years.) Generally Thorin's role in my version of the story is that he's a living embodiment of The Quest, and Bilbo's feelings for Thorin mirror his feelings for the Adventure. When Thorin first arrives at Bag End, Bilbo is overwhelmed and annoyed and confused-- he finds him both fascinating and horribly frustrating at turns, and has no idea how to feel about Thorin in the same way he has no idea whether he'll join the adventure. As the story continues, Bilbo's feelings on the Quest will shift, and his feelings about Thorin will shift as well. I just really love the general idea of a new take on Thorin where he has a bit more pathos and a deeper relationship with Bilbo. I also think the way LOTR retroactively reframes The Hobbit as a story written by 'unreliable narrator Bilbo Baggins' adds to the possibilities a lot! there's a lot of queer subtext in Lord of the Rings, and it's fun to bring more of that subtext into the Hobbit. Tolkien often refers to hobbit adventures as "queerness,' and makes "queerness" the name for the thing that bigoted hobbits are afraid of; the fact that Bilbo has been repressing the "queer" part of himself that he inherited from his mother is, canonically, the thing he's struggling with in the beginning of the story.

I really enjoy the bit in the Unfinished Tales where Gandalf describes Bilbo like this:

And now I found that he was 'unattached' - to jump on again for of course I did not know all this until I went back to the Shire. I learned that he had never married. I thought that odd though I guessed why it was; and the reason that I guessed was not that most of the Hobbits gave me: that he had early been left very well off and his own master. No, I guessed that he wanted to remain 'unattached' for some reason deep down which he did not understand himself - or would not acknowledge, for it alarmed him.

That feeling of not being "out to yourself" and not knowing what it is that you want out of life is just!!! It's just very compelling to me.

Thorin's still gonna die though. Don't you hate it when you have this whole elaborate coming-out-to-yourself story but then your first gay crush is so Problematic he kiiiinda nearly starts a war so you betray him by stealing the Heart of his Mountain in order to prevent that war, but then the war happens anyway and he dies horribly :/. A universal gay experience.

Thorin is also an interesting character to play with, especially because I'm diverging more from the book (compared to Bilbo or Gandalf.) The way I'm planning to handle him is that he's a character we see only "from the outside," from the perspective of other characters, and no character sees every side of him. The dwarves portray him as a noble king; the elves portray him as a haughty arrogant joke, to the point where it affects Tolkien's own "translation" of the story; Bilbo has his own complicated feelings about Thorin, but even his portrayal of Thorin is heavily biased and he never gets to see the full picture.

But yeah-- the Hobbit is originally a very lighthearted story, but I do think there are lot of darker and deeper emotions you could explore in it if you wanted to, particularly if you bring in the metatext of how it's reframed in Lord of the Rings. And I do want to explore those darker emotions! So I am XD. There already was an extremely book-accurate comic adaptation of the Hobbit that came out in the late nineties (though it's super short and the pages are cramped to fit in all the prose)-- so I don't really see the point of being obsessively close to the original novel, since an obsessively close comic adaptation already exists. This comic is for the Weird Queer Overly Emotional Metatextual Reframing of The Hobbit!! Anyway, it's fun.

#thank you for the ask!#sorry it takes me so long to answer things XD #the hobbit #lotr #the hobbit comic #retelling the hobbit #asks

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suashii · 8 months

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୨♡୧ NABI (나비) — a caterpillar leaves the protection of its cocoon and blossoms into a butterfly.

pairing. tsukishima kei x reader.

info & warnings. 6.3k wc, art students tsukki & reader, fluff, mutual pining, self-doubt on reader’s end (regarding skill).

note. inspired by the kdrama nevertheless! i also have a playlist if you'd like to listen while or after reading :) enjoy~

you blink at the sculpture situated in your workspace. unsurprisingly, its cold, inanimate eyes only stare back at you. the lack of response, though anticipated, draws a bitter laugh from your lungs. other than the fact that it’s unfinished, there’s something wrong with the piece in front of you. you’ve known it and your professor made that much clear during her class evaluations today.

what are you trying to convey? it feels empty. you aren’t showcasing your true potential.

by the time she had moved on to check the progress of the next student’s work, you felt as empty as she claimed your piece was. and, even though you didn’t have high expectations, the criticism hurt. your classmates must have been able to tell, too, because as soon as class was dismissed, they crowded around you with apologies for the harshness you faced and extended words of encouragement to help get you through the upcoming stages of the project. you thanked them, of course, but none of their words truly got through to you. you wouldn’t be standing here trying to figure out what had gone wrong or what was missing if they had.

“hey.” you jump at the sound of a voice several feet away. for the first time since class ended, you tear your eyes away from the source of your sorrows. it’s strange—you don’t think it shouldn’t be possible for your mood to shift so quickly, but the sight of a certain someone always seems to lift your spirits.

“hey yourself,” you greet tsukishima with a smile. it graces your lips naturally—isn’t strained or forced like it would be for anyone else in this moment.

heavy footsteps echo throughout the large studio as the man makes his way toward you. instinctively, his gaze falls to the idle figure before you. he inspects the sculpted model while speaking. “still working? i can get lunch alone if you’re busy.”

you shake your head and quickly snatch up the clear trash bag that you use to store your work. it’s transparent, sure, but you don’t want tsukki of all people scrutinizing your work. the bag crinkles loudly as you carefully place it over the sculpture in a poor attempt to keep it hidden from your companion.

“nope! i’m done for the day,” you assure him. your spectacle of storing the sculpture has the opposite of your intended effect, as tsukki’s golden eyes slowly pass between you and it. eventually, his stare lands and stays on you. it’s intense and you almost cower under it but you’ve known him long enough to know that, despite it looking like it, there’s no intimidation behind his eyes. you clear your throat, wiping your sweaty, clay-stained palms on the pants of your coveralls.

“where should we eat?”

after a lunch consisting of pre-packaged sandwiches and bottled water, the two of you decide that since you both have time before your next classes, you can spend it at the campus arboretum. you don’t find yourself here often, but tsukki leads you to a bench he frequents whenever he has downtime. you drop your bag on the edge of the seat before plopping down yourself. your companion joins you, albeit, a lot more gracefully.

it’s nice here, you decide, peaceful even. the scent of freshly mowed grass wafts through the air. it’s dewy, too—the sprinklers must have been at work earlier, sometime in the morning. if you looked hard enough at the patches of sunlight, you might have been able to see the little droplets of moisture sticking to the tips of the individual blades.

“how’d your evaluation go?” tsukki’s voice cuts through the silence.

damn it. you were hoping that minuscule detail you had shared would slip the blonde’s mind but that might as well have been an impossible ask of tsukishima. every piece of information he comes across is stored away in the neatly organized archive that is his brain. it can be useful at times; like when you seek him out to help you study or when you’re having trouble trying to remember the name of the ice cream shop you want to drag him to. other times, though, you consider it a curse; like when you attempt to cheat at board games or when you take a crack at convincing him that it’s his turn to pay even though it’s definitely yours. now, in this moment, his incredible memory has come back to bite you.

you exhale a breath that’s meant to be a soft sigh but comes out as more of a burdened huff. you don’t want to lie to him, but even if you did, you wouldn’t be able to. you’re as much as a glass wall to tsukki—he can see right through you without even trying. you keep your reply short and leave out the humiliating scene your professor put you through. “could have been better. i’ll figure everything out soon enough.”

“do you need help?” he asks, staring at the ground.

the laugh you let out causes tsukishima’s head to turn in your direction. his brows are knit together in confusion. another huff of laughter passes your lips before you wave your hand in dismissal. it’s not that you’re above his help, rather, it’s the fact that he even offered. you don’t put kind gestures past him—he can be nice when he wants to—but his concern catches you off guard. “thanks, but no thanks. i don’t want to distract you from your own projects. besides, i have it covered.”

“if you say so.” he doesn’t press because it’s clear you don’t want him to. though, a small part of him can’t help but feel that something is bothering you more than you’re letting on.

a comfortable silence blankets the two of you as you sit and enjoy the scenery. you hold your arm up to check the time on the watch strapped around your wrist. there’s half an hour until you need to get to your last class of the day. usually, you’d be itching to find something to do, something to keep you busy. sitting around and doing nothing isn’t productive and you find it to be quite boring. but this leisure time today doesn’t feel like that. it’s welcome and you’re truly enjoying it.

just as you’re about to lower your arm back to its place at your side, a set of deep-colored wings—maybe blue or purple—catches your eye. the wings flutter towards you, slowing with their approach to your hand. there are a few more languid flaps as the butterfly comes to rest on your finger. unconsciously, a smile pulls at the corners of your lips.

tsukki watches you watch the butterfly. the smile you’re wearing now is different than the ones he’s become familiar with. this one is more relaxed; your lips don’t expose your teeth like they would if you were posing for a picture. this one is calm; he can’t see the inside of your mouth like he’d be able to if you were laughing over something you found funny—funnier than it actually was. but this particular smile does share something with the others; it makes his heart feel weightless in his chest.

he clears his throat and asks, “do you like them?”

you cast him a curious glance before turning back to the insect perched on your finger. that alone, he thinks, is enough to consider an answer. still, he elaborates. “butterflies. do you like them?”

you hum in both understanding and confirmation, nodding your head to tell him yes.

“why?” he follows up.

“i guess i’ve never really thought about it,” you softly laugh. your exhale must have disturbed the butterfly because its wings pick up that rapid flutter, carrying it away into the air. you watch it go, fly with the wind, until it’s out of your sight. tsukki’s question resurfaces as you tuck your hands under your thighs. you ponder over it for a moment while you stare up at the sky. as far as you can see, it’s boundless. the butterfly that had just left you could be anywhere in the vastness of the cloudy blue canvas by now. “i like them because they’re pretty… and free.”

there’s a strange expression on your face when tsukishima looks back over at you, one that doesn’t match the lightheartedness of your words.

you look envious.

• • •

these days, it’s rare for you to be the first to the destination when you plan to meet with tsukishima. it’s become a habit for you to show up after him and on the occasion that you’re taking too long for his liking, he’ll come and get you from the studio himself. you’ve broken the trend today, though, choosing to drop the extra work you assigned yourself in favor of grabbing coffee with tsukki. you were sure that your brain would explode and leak out of your ears if you spent even a second longer analyzing the cursed sculpture.

“is it rude to start my drink if he isn’t here yet?” you mumble to yourself, chin resting on your crossed arms that lay on the table. the cup dripping with condensation on top of the white square napkin has monopolized your attention since you had set it down. on the other side of the surface sits tsukki’s usual iced americano. it’s the only thing keeping you from taking a sip of the beverage in front of you. you’ve come to notice that whenever tsukki is in situations like these, ones where he’s left waiting for you, he orders for you both and doesn’t lay a finger on his meal or snack or drink until you arrive.

it’s those consistent gestures that push you toward your decision; as long as his is untouched, yours will be, too.

you want to give yourself a pat on the back for resisting temptation and choosing to be considerate but the scraping that accompanies the drag of a chair stops you from doing so. you squeeze your eyes shut and shiver at the unpleasant noise. a chuckle sounds from across the table, leading you to open your eyes. there’s an amused grin on tsukki’s face that brings a frown to yours.

“that’s the thanks i get for treating you?” you mumble, aimlessly swirling the ice cubes of your drink around with your straw.

he raises his cup with his words, “thank you.” soft pink lips wrap around the clear plastic straw and you watch as the dark liquid travels up the cylinder. it draws your eye to the rest of his face—his honey eyes occupied with the passing pedestrians outside the shop, his buttery blonde hair tickling the top of his black and gold browline style glasses, the speck of dried green paint staining his otherwise unblemished skin.

your lips wobble in an effort to hold back your laugh but a short giggle makes it past despite your struggle to hold it in. tsukki’s eyes fall on you. a grin he knows all too well, one that means nothing but trouble, plays at your lips. “what?”

you tap your cheek, the same spot where the paint was splattered on his. “you have a bit of paint on your face.”

the man clicks his tongue in annoyance—at himself, not you. he’s normally better about making sure he’s cleaned up after class but today some of the paint he was working with must have splashed up while he was washing his palette. he sets his drink down before bringing his thumb up to wipe the dot away. it swipes over his cheek but the green doesn’t disappear.

“here,” you speak up upon seeing that his motion was unsuccessful in removing the blotch. you lean across the table so that you’re closer to him, within arms reach. your index finger pokes out to gently scratch off the fleck of paint. it lingers for a moment—your finger that now has a green spot under the nail—as you scan the rest of tsukki’s face. a close look that you’ve never been warranted before reveals a sprinkle of light freckles that dot his nose and sparsely spread to his cheeks. you’re not sure why, but your eyes flit up to his. and he’s looking right back at you. in this proximity, you can pick out flakes of gold like crushed foil sheets floating in the pools of honey.

you snatch your hand back when you realize you’ve been staring. with a fist over your mouth, you clear your throat in hopes that the tension you’ve created will dissolve with whatever’s stuck in your pharynx. what on earth possessed me to do that? you berate yourself, choosing to look at your drink instead of tsukki. if you kept your eyes on him, you would have seen that he was feeling just as bashful as you. the tips of his ears burn a blistering red and he’s also avoiding your gaze.

you discreetly shake your head in an attempt to physically rid your brain of any thoughts that have to do with being so close to tsukishima. they aren’t unpleasant but they are the last thing you should be concerned with considering how badly your sculpture is progressing. you sit up at the reminder. it’s a perfect excuse to move on from the awkwardness between you. “i guess that means your painting is going well.”

tsukki nods. “i finished it today.”

“really?” your voice squeaks and you pat your chest to regain your composure. while both of you are art students, you specialize in different mediums. despite this, you’ve always made an effort to keep up with tsukki’s assignments and the schedule he’s given. “don’t you still have a week until it’s due?”

“yeah. i didn’t need all the time allotted.”

you’re torn. on one hand, you’re amazed by tsukishima’s efficiency—you have been since the two of you were first introduced to each other. despite how fast he works, he consistently produces exceptional pieces. he’s a skilled artist who will have no trouble finding success after graduation. though, as proud as you are of him, you can never seem to bury the part of you that craves what he has—his competence, his speed, his talent. you don’t want to doubt and reconsider each move your hands make. you don’t want to constantly feel the weight of a deadline on your shoulders. you don’t want to question whether or not you’re cut out for this field.

your sudden silence doesn’t go unnoticed by the blonde but he has no intention of pressuring you into telling him what you’re thinking about. though, he has an inkling that it might be about the sculpture that’s been giving you trouble. all the conversations you have with him are normal until any mention of your project comes up. tsukishima isn’t one to pry and the last thing he wants is to agitate you by bringing it up, but he’s at war with himself. could he call himself a good friend if he were to stand idly by when you needed him?

before he has the chance to ask if something’s wrong, a soft smile makes its way to your face. it’s almost as though the bout of quiet was nothing more than tsukki’s imagination. he knows that isn’t the case, but maybe this is your way of telling him that you aren’t quite ready to disclose what’s bothering you. so, he licks his lips and bites his tongue.

it’s difficult, but you force yourself to set all of your coveting feelings aside. there’s something else you’re curious about, anyway. “since you wrapped that up early, what are you going to do with your free time in class?”

“i think i’m going to start a personal project,” tsukki replies, mindlessly tapping at the cup in front of him with his finger.

“oh yeah? what is it? another painting?”

“it’s a secret.” the words alone are enough to make your lips part in surprise; tsukki always tells you what he’s working on. even more surprising is what he does next. across from you, tsukki gestures locking his lips and tossing the key over his shoulder, all while sporting a smile.

you laugh. it’s breathy and laced with disbelief but the humor is still there. in the two years you’ve known tsukki, he’s never proven to be someone who jokes. he’s sarcastic, that’s for sure, but rarely a guy who goes out of his way to make others laugh. it’s new and it’s different but in this moment, his jesting is refreshing.

tsukki’s just happy to have cheered you up, even if it’s only a little bit.

• • •

another crumpled paper misses the waste bin next to your workstation. the sound of it hitting the floor seems to echo throughout the empty, silent studio. class ended hours ago and all of your peers had filed out then but you’ve been anchored to your seat since dismissal. the sun is setting now, dipping below the horizon. its dimming rays flood the room with a warm yellow. the quiet and setting sun should make for the perfect working environment but they don’t. the silence is suffocating and despite the patches of golden sunlight peeking in through the windows, you’re cold.

the stool you’re sitting on creaks as you swivel to face your creation. time has passed since your first evaluation and you’ve made additions and alterations to your sculpture but every time you look at it for a second too long, you’re filled with distaste. it’s clear that you’ve made visible progress on the piece but you have yet to figure out what more you can pour into it—yet to answer your professor’s question. the missing piece is beginning to piss you off.

your lips quiver and tears prick at your eyes. how pathetic, you think, crying over something like this. but the tears trickling down your cheeks and dripping off your chin aren’t ones brought on by sadness. they’re a byproduct of your frustration. you’re frustrated because something you’re supposed to love doing is giving you so much hardship, causing you so much stress that you’d rather destroy it than continue wasting time trying to find out what’s wrong with it. you want to scream at the top of your lungs. you want to shove this poor excuse of a sculpture over and watch it shatter into little pieces, listen to it crack and break.

maybe that would give you some peace of mind.

the buzzing of your phone against the desk it’s resting on distracts you from your destructive thoughts. you consider leaving it alone and letting it ring but the rational side of you is shouting to answer it. who knows what you’ll get up to if you ignore it.

the vibrations continue as you wipe away your tears with the sleeve of your shirt. your vision is still bleary but you can make out tsukishima’s contact name and photo. you don’t want him to hear that you’ve been crying but you know he’ll go out of his way to come here and check on you if you don’t pick up. it’s easier to hide your emotions over than phone than it is in person. so, with a resolute sniffle, you swipe the green phone icon to the right.

“hello?” your voice comes out more steady than you thought it would.

“hey.” tsukki doesn’t seem to notice the slight falter in your tone. you close your eyes in relief. “are you on your way?”

your eyebrows furrow at his question. were you supposed to be meeting him somewhere? “on my way where?”

“the movie theater.” his words take a moment to register but as soon as they do, you gasp.

“oh my god, i completely forgot.” you slap a hand to your cheek. you were the one who suggested going to see a movie tonight and you unintentionally stood tsukki up. you wonder how you’re capable of forgetting the plans you made but the answer is obvious and it’s right behind you. that damned sculpture. “i’m so sorry, tsukki. i’ll pay you back for the tickets.”

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” his response leaves no room for argument. you’ve come to learn that fighting over matters like these with him is useless; he’ll always win. so, instead, you sigh in defeat.

“are you still on campus?” he asks. you almost laugh. are you really that predictable?

you hum, spinning around to look at your piece. your head tilts to the right as your eyes follow the figure up from its head and down to its feet. you thoughtfully chew your lower lip. seeking out help has never been a strong suit of yours but the fact that tsukki called in the middle of your mini freak-out must have been the universe’s way of telling you to swallow your pride. maybe a fresh perspective would help get you through this slump. “actually, can i ask you for a favor?”

“ask away.”

“can you help me refresh on dynamic anatomy? something’s off with my sculpture and i think it might be the proportions.”

“sure,” his answer comes a lot quicker than you expect it to, especially considering how easily you forgot about the movie you had planned this evening. though, it shouldn’t have come as too much of a surprise. tsukki doesn’t hold grudges—not with you, at least—and he even offered his help after hearing about your nightmare of an evaluation. “when should we meet?”

you’re inclined to say right now but you stop yourself. it would be rude to take the time that was once set aside for a fun outing and use it to research instead. “tomorrow night if you’re free. we can study at mine.”

“i’ll be there.”

• • •

the scratch of your pencil against the white sheet of paper along with the continuous hum of your air conditioner are the only noises that fill your room. tsukishima isn’t one for meaningless chatter and usually you wouldn’t mind but right now his silence makes you feel as though he’s staring you down like a hawk. you can’t be sure of how long it’s been since you started but you do know that it has felt like an eternity. your hand is beginning to cramp and the dull throb in your skull is a warning of an oncoming headache. you toss the pad of paper onto the empty spot of your mattress between you and tsukki. your head meets your pillow with a groan as you squeeze your eyes shut.

tsukki looks up from his textbook to inspect your work. the stretched arm sketched out on the page of your notebook is perfect, practiced, and the opposite of what he’d expect of someone who needed his guidance. he has a sneaking suspicion that the so-called “something wrong” with your project is nothing more than a product of your overthinking. still, he doesn’t enjoy seeing you this stressed.

“do you want to take a break?” tsukki suggests. his book closes with a thump. he peers down at you, patiently waiting for your reply.

you nod, eyes still shut. with your thumb and index finger, you create the smallest gap that you can without looking. “just a short one.”

the stillness that characterized the room a few minutes ago returns. tsukki glances over your figure; you’re resting comfortably, head denting your fluffy pillow, hands joined on your tummy. it’s nice to see you in such a pleasant state. the blonde was beginning the think he’d have to get used to seeing you with a crease between your eyebrows and a frown on your face. he knows the contentment you’re feeling now won’t last forever, but he can at least try to prolong it. he rakes a hand through his hair and shakes it as though the action will dispel the unusual jitters coursing through him. “would you like to see what i’ve been working on?”

you shoot up so quickly that your visions spots. a few rapid blinks are enough to solve your problem. with a turn of your head, tsukki appears before you. “you have it with you? it’s done?”

he simply nods.

“yes, i wanna see it!” you practically shout at him as though your answer should be obvious. and, to you, it should be. there’s never been a time when you weren’t bursting at the seams with excitement to see one of tsukki’s pieces. you reach out and grab his arm, squeezing his bicep eagerly. “show me.”

after prying your fingers off from around his arm, tsukki’s hand disappears into the side of his backpack. whatever he’s looking for doesn’t evade him for long because it only takes him a couple seconds to straighten back up with the item in his hold. he sets something in front of you, something you can’t say you were expecting. it’s a box—a small, white, plain box.

you eye the container suspiciously before facing your friend. “this… doesn’t look like a painting to me. or a drawing, at that.”

“just open it,” he urges you with a light nudge to your shoulder. you don’t miss the way the corners of his lips twitch into a smile.

you snicker at his veiled annoyance while picking up the thin, rectangular box. the lid is snug and you have to shimmy it a bit to remove it from the rest of the case. your labor reveals a piece of jewelry. hanging from a dainty chain is a butterfly charm. its wings up top are blue and the set on the bottom are purple. they’re similar to those of the butterfly you saw in the arboretum but the colors are lighter and more translucent—much softer.

“a necklace?” you question, carefully taking the adornment out of its box. the pendant sways like a pendulum with your movement and your gaze follows it back and forth. “who’s it for?”

the gentle swinging stops when tsukki’s hand stretches out to take the necklace from you. you’re taken aback and the tiniest bit wounded by his indirect answer. he doesn’t give you any time to dwell on the matter because it only takes a second for him to unclasp the metal fastener and bring the necklace around your throat. the pendant sits cozily against your jugular notch as tsukki clips the latch back in place. a set of large hands come to rest on your shoulders and they gingerly turn you towards the mirror in front of your bed.

“it’s for you,” tsukki speaks, letting his hands fall back to his sides. he observes your countenance in the reflection of the mirror in hopes of reading your reaction, though, you’re too occupied staring at the necklace. the expression you wear is calm, but tsukishima can pick up on that same sparkle in your eyes—the one from the day when he decided to make the piece of jewelry for you, the envious one.

“pretty,” you whisper.

you said that then, too, that they were pretty. that wasn’t the only thing he recalled you saying you liked about butterflies. “you should take notes from them.”

without looking up, you huff out a laugh. “are you saying i’m ugly?”

“no, you’re plenty pretty,” tsukki clears up his previous statement. you were joking with him but his clarification leads you to meet his eye in the mirror. as easily as his statement was delivered, there’s a troubled line between his brows. “i just mean… can i offer you some advice?”

others might view tsukki as a serious person, but you rarely see that side of him. his hardened, golden eyes harbor a sense of urgency behind them. you hold his stare and curtly nod in a gesture for him to continue.

“about your sculpture,” he starts, a hand reaching back to scratch his neck. he knows his words are necessary, knows that you need to hear them, but he finds that there’s something strange about him giving you guidance. he isn’t one to instruct or give his opinion in most situations but yours is a special case. you’re special. “you’re thinking too technically about things. nothing’s wrong with it; you just haven’t found a piece of you to put into it yet. free yourself from the confines of expectation and start to think about what you want to express through your sculpture.”

tsukki left you with his input at least a couple hours ago but as you lay in bed, it still feels like he’s beside you. his cologne lingers on your sheets—cedar and grapefruit; the one you got him for his birthday last year. you close your eyes and inhale deeply. a wave of serenity washes over you as you take in the fragrance.

your pointer finger traces the shape of the butterfly pendant resting between the dip in your collarbone. tsukki’s words echo in your head. you haven’t found a piece of you to put into it yet. is that really the solution to your problem? would that satisfy your professor? will it satisfy you?

there’s no way of knowing unless you try. and, luckily for you, your new necklace has given you the perfect idea of what to express through your piece.

• • •

for the first time since you’ve started working on your sculpture, you’re happy, excited even. the sense of dread that used to suffocate you whenever you looked at your project disappeared the day after your chat with tsukki. you spent the entire night thinking about what you could do to give the cold, bare figure some character in your likeness. it came easier than you ever thought it would and that’s all thanks to tsukishima. without him and his help, you were on track to turn in an assignment you absolutely hated and was sure to earn a mediocre grade at best.

for the past week and a half, you’ve devoted just as much time to the sculpture as you did when it was nothing more than an ugly reminder of your shortcomings—but this time around, you aren’t searching for something to fix. you’re adapting it—changing its expression, adjusting its pose, adding elements you wouldn’t have even considered without tsukki giving you a helping hand. you don’t end up scrapping anything but by the time you’ve put on the finishing touches, it feels like a completely new piece—one that you’re proud of.

you can’t wait to show tsukki.

it’s the day before your project is due and, surprisingly, you leave class on time. now that your sculpture is finished entirely, there’s no reason for you to stick around in the building until the sky is dark and the moon and stars start their shift. you do have one more order of business in the studio before you call it a day, though, and he should be departing from his own class right about now.

right on cue, a crowd of students pushes past the doors to the lecture hall you’re waiting outside of. tsukki is easy to pick out amongst the rest and you wave him over as soon as he catches sight of you.

“hey! ready to see it?” you ask as your companion approaches.

he can practically see the excitement radiating off of you. you’re beaming and bouncing on the balls of your feet. the show of enthusiasm brings a smile to tsukki’s face. he jerks his head in the direction of your building, “lead the way.”

you turn on your heel to begin your journey and tsukki follows. the weather is nice today—the sun is out but it’s not too hot and there’s a cool breeze in the air. you’re already in a good mood but the environment seems to elevate it even more. so much so that you almost forget something you planned this morning.

“oh!” you stop in your tracks. tsukki almost bumps into you but catches himself before he does. luckily you’re just outside your destination so it’s not too late to go through with your little arrangement. you sling your bag to the side and dig around it until you find the object you hurriedly stuffed in it hours earlier. tsukki’s beside you now and you can feel him staring down at you. you spin to look at him and hold out the item. “here. put this on.”

he eyes your outstretched hand with a humored snort. “you brought your sleep mask from home?”

“just put it on or you’ll ruin the big reveal.” you shove the koala bear eye mask into his chest, holding it there until his hand comes up to take it. tsukki has always had a hard time saying no to you and now is no different—especially with how happy you are. how could he deny you of this? with that thought, tsukki takes the fluffy grey eye cover and situates it on the upper half of his face. a few pieces of his sandy blonde hair stick up haphazardly due to the elastic band. you giggle at the sight.

“i’ll guide you, give me your hand,” you instruct him, wiggling your fingers despite the fact that he can’t see you. he holds his palm up and you take it, intertwining your fingers with his and tugging him behind you. his hand is warm and a lot softer than you expected it would be. holding it with yours feels normal… and right. you struggle to fight the growing smile on your face as you lead tsukki through your building.

there are a few turns and a flight of stairs but, thankfully, you’re able to get him to the studio without much trouble. when you pass the threshold that is the door, you swear you can feel your heart rate pick up. the organ threatens to jump into your throat with each step you take towards your sculpture. once there’s a considerable gap between you and your piece, you pull on tsukki’s hand to stop him.

“are we here?” he asks.

“yeah.” at your word, he moves to take the animal-themed cover off his face. the movement makes you panic.

“wait!” you yell, snatching his hands away and holding them in yours. tsukki’s eyes aren’t visible but you’re sure they would have widened in surprise at your abrupt outburst. hell, you’re even caught off guard by the turn of events. less than five minutes ago you were about ready to explode with excitement at the mere thought of finally showing tsukki your project. you aren’t sure where this sudden bout of fear came from.

you look over your shoulder to the fruits of your labor. just seeing it swells you with a sense of pride. it reminds you of how far you’ve come and tsukki’s the one who helped get you to this point. there’s nothing for you to be afraid of. taking a deep breath, you release tsukki’s hands and step to the side. “okay,” you nod, “you can look.”

slowly, tsukki reaches up to remove his blindfold.

it’s much different than the little peek he got of it before you hid it from him that handful of weeks ago. he expected as much but it’s more than clear that you took his advice to heart. it takes as little as a quick glance to tell that you found exactly what you thought was worth expressing in it. and tsukki thinks that the message you chose to share is fitting.

the expression on the face of your statue conveys a mixture of emotions. the furrow in its brows isn’t one of confusion or anger, it’s one of strain and trouble. the lips are parted, not in surprise or shock, but in struggle. its countenance is apprehensive yet hopeful. further down the body, the sculpture isn’t as bare. there’s foliage—lianas—at its feet that travel up its legs, roping them in and rooting them to the ground—trapping them where they stand. the right one is positioned mid-step and beginning to break free from the vines wrapped around it. the arm on the same side is stretched out in reach of something and its fingers are bent—almost as if the figure is attempting to grasp whatever it’s chasing.

a look to the left reveals what the sculpture is after—a swarm of colorful butterflies.

your eyes flit over to tsukki who hasn’t spoken a word. his amber irises are honed in on your project and you can’t tell what’s swimming behind them. his quiet plants a seed of uncertainty within you but you don’t give it a chance to sprout, don’t allow it any sunlight or water to blossom. you’re tired of questioning yourself and your abilities. this project is physical proof that you’ve grown—enough so that you know your worth as an artist isn’t dependent on anyone else’s opinion. still, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious about what tsukki thought. he was more helpful than anyone throughout this entire process.

“so…” your voice slices through the silence. “what do you think?”

for the first time since taking off the silly sleep mask you had given him to put on, tsukki looks at you. and this time around, his face shows exactly what he’s thinking. the corners of his eyes crinkle with the smile he wears. it’s a rare one—not sarcastic or half-hearted or the mere upward tug of his lips. “i think it’s amazing. good job, you.”

his empty hand comes up to ruffle the hair atop your head. any other time you’d playfully scold him for so carelessly ruining your appearance but all you can do in this moment is smile in return. there’s a different kind of affection behind his familiar action—one that tells you he’s proud of you. with his hand still resting on your head, tsukki asks, “how do you feel now that it’s done?”

you look to your sculpture. instinctively, your hand reaches up to the butterfly hanging from your neck. upon touching it, your answer comes instantly.

“free.”

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#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #tsukishima x you #haikyuu x you #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu fluff #tsukishima drabbles #haikyuu drabbles #tsukishima imagine #haikyuu imagines #tsukishima scenarios #haikyuu scenarios

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greenthena · 5 months

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Oh me? Just cataloging snakey stuff

I'm currently diving down lots of costume rabbit holes (snake holes? sounds wrong...) in the GO universe. My thoughts for today are about Crowley and how he expresses his snakey-ness through the ages. Might I tempt you down this rabbit hole?

Starting off in Eden. It's a very small detail and barely even visible in this screencap, but you can see deep red embroidery "V" shapes on the shoulder of Crowley's tunic here. They're very scale-like and quite subtle. This "V" scale shape is a patterned motif we'll see throughout the early years (really during the B.C. years) of Crowley clothes. Also, Crowley's hair is almost Gorgon-like, the curls resembling the bodies of serpents.

For the Flood sequence, I had a little trouble finding anything snakey. Crowley's hair is less defined (though glorious! love the plait!) so I'm not as tempted to describe the style as Gorgon-esque. But if you zoom into the robe to get a good view of the texture...

...you can see the herringbone pattern in the weave of the fabric. Herringbone is basically a series of upright and inverted chevrons, that continue the "V" shape motif of snake scales that we first saw on the Eden robe's embroidery. Elusive little reference, but pretty clear once you see it. Also note the unfinished hem at the neckline of Crowley's robe, compared to the smoothly stitched and tied neckline on Aziraphale. Undone versus all bound up.

Bildad is just my favorite and I will gladly ramble indefinitely about everything from the Job minisode. *exhale* Bildad's tone-on-tone black robe has both diamond and stripe-dash designs, which are common patterns for snakes in nature. We've also got the belted sash at the waist, with an unusual use of teal (not a color we associate with Crowley). The unexpected color choice draws attention to the chevron motif, which we've now come to associate with Crowley's snakey-ness in the B.C. flashbacks.

And here's an additional Bildad. I make no apologies.

For the Golgatha sequence, Crowley presents as female, wearing a head covering. The robe looks to be the same as what she wore in the Flood sequence, with the subtle herringbone pattern. It's a heavy scene and the costumes are appropriately subdued.

Sidenote: I want to point out here that through the B.C. flashbacks, Crowley's costumes are consistently very textured compared to Aziraphale's. All the fabrics used are earthy and nubby and just very tactile, even when Crowley is playing the part of a wealthy Shuhite. Aziraphale's fabric choices, in contrast, are polished and almost shining. His accessories are metallic and golden and very much of Heaven. But if we look closer at the texture of his garments, even Aziraphale may be minutely subverting Heaven's uniform. Compare the slub texture (and even the unfinished neck hem in Eden) of Aziraphale's robes in the following images...

...to the perfectly smooth fabrics on the robes of other angels...

Gabriel and Muriel wear Heavenly robes of flawless weave. They're smooth, they're perfect...they're exactly what you'd expect. But not Aziraphale. He is, even back in Eden, drawn to the subtle variances and imperfections of Earth. His garments have texture and substance in a way that we just don't see with the rest of the Heavenly Host.

We now resume your regularly scheduled programming in the years of our lord. We're in the A.D.'s bay-bee!

Crowley's Rome ensemble is so confused and blundered. I read a meta that argued, and I agree, that we're to interpret this as, "This is Crowley's first visit to Rome since the crucifiction and he's just mish-mashed all the styles into one, regardless of gender or whatever." I'm good with the interpretation. In terms of seeking out the snakes, though, we've got a few candidates. First, the dark red linework embroidery at the hem of the toga(?). It's got an undulating pattern that we can read as a literal snake, or simply as a variation on the chevron theme. Either way, it reads as snakey. We've also got the snake brooch--on the nose, but why not? Finally, and this one took me a while, and I'm not certain I'm fully on board, but I'm kind of thinking of Crowley's silver laurels as snake scales. I mean, yes, they're Roman-ish, but very out of place in the context of having a quick drink. You don't wander around the streets of Rome proper wearing silver laurels. Maybe snake scales? This isn't a hill I'm willing to die on.

The big take away from the Rome costume is that this marks a change in Crowley's expression. Prior to this period, he's hidden his snake scales in the weave and texture of his garments. Going forward, we're not going to see any more distinct "V" embroidery or snakey textural patterns. Crowley's style is shifting and becoming more luxurious. But first, Wessex.

GO costume designer Claire Anderson said that for the 537 A.D. Wessex sequence, she was not going all in for historical accuracy. She was compiling armor pieces that looked snake-like. Cheers to her, because poor Crowley just looks like a very uncomfortable and damp serpent. Really like the individual plates on the pauldron and the gauntlet. Very scale-like. The chain mail, itself, can also read snake scales, though I'm hesitant to make that comparison since Aziraphale's armor also includes quite extraordinary amount of chain mail.

A moment of appreciation for Aziraphale's cape, if you will.

Once we reach the Elizabethan era, Crowley really hits his stride in terms of fashion. The lines of his doublet are angular and pointed. The collar is lifted up toward the sky, like a snake periscoping in the grass. But the thing I really see in this costume is the excessive use of velvet. It's the perfect fabric to evoke snake scales. If you've ever been fortunate enough to pet a snake, you'll know that running your hand from the head toward the tail is smooth, but in the opposite direction it's rather rough. (Also, don't, because snakes really don't like it--unless they're shedding...) Similarly, if you run your fingers in one direction of velvet, it causes the fibers to lay flat and smooth, but brushed the other way, the fibers stand up and become rough. Just like the scales. It's also just a very luxurious fabric that begs to be touched. Almost like a temptation, you might say.

In Crowley's Edinburgh costume, the most obvious expression of snake scales can be found on his interior waistcoat. The texture of the fabric, however, does not mimic the "V" pattern we've seen in the B.C. era, instead expressing the scales in the black and red checkered motif. Not super subtle, but nothing about this costume is. I love it so much. Not Bildad-level, but still.

The Holy Water Incident has one glaring snake reference, though not really in the costume itself. Crowley's carrying a walking stick (probably recovering from that post-laudanum punishment) and it's got a little snake head. Not much needs to be said here, as it's pretty obvious. It's a snake. You're welcome.

I'm actually going to end this post here, with our final snake reference being the elongated "S" on Crowley's tie. He's very up to date with the fashions of the era, but still manages to incorporate a clear symbol of his serpenty-ness.

So, yah. Snakey scales though the millennia. I want to do an in-depth look at both Crowley and Aziraphale's costumes in the modern era and really pull them apart piece by piece (not like that...) to find all the angelic and serpentine easter eggs Anderson included. Until then.

#good omens #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #go costumes #fashion #it's sunday and i need to eat dinner

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vhstown · 5 months

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gwen stacy ★ general headcanons

content/warnings: mentions of underage drinking, implied & mentions of death

a/n: hey 😁 a levels beating my arse. thx 2 @qiupachups 4 helping w these 🫡 give it up for gwendy ‼️ (unedited)

Gwen is a collector — but not of collectibles. She has a secret empire of the most random things, and is thoroughly embarrassed when anyone finds it: tickets, pins, soda can tabs, cool-looking clothing tags, mismatched hair clips, paper clips, little things stolen from school, etc. Anything she things is remotely interesting has a place in a very specifically organised box under her bed, tucked away from the world and taken out occasionally to be adjusted or stared at. It's essentially the same as being a collector, right...?

She had a fashion hobby she grew out of, but it re-kindles when she has to design a suit for herself. Initially, it's made up of thermal sportswear but she comes up with actual designs at some point, modifying it overtime to include the hood and to integrate it with her ballet slippers.

When it comes to art, Gwen's style would be a lot like a fashion student's. I headcanon her to have aphantasia so her main strength is drawing clothing, and a lot of her drawings are based on herself as a reference (she can literally only draw herself well...) Rather than a sketchbook, she has a journal that's also full of photographs and writing as well as her drawings, and the occasional crumpled up drum score.

Has a knack for sewing and customises some of her clothes, though it's more personal touches and the occasional crop rather than completely overhauling a piece of clothing. Everyday items of hers have at least a little embroidery or design on them and she likes doing patterns on like bags and converse for her friends. Wants to make plushies and things but always manages to get distracted so there's a bunch of unfinished projects in her closet. (I would totally buy from her on Etsy though 😁)

Gwen did ballet as a kid and developed the enraging habit of cracking EVERY joint in her body. She's the mf that twists in the chair in front of you and stares deep into your soul while cracking her back. Cracks things you don't even know you could crack without shame my girl is a whole instrument 😭

Ballet is something her dad pushed her towards, alongside music (though he preferred she did something more traditional). Initially Gwen did feel out of place in her classes. A lot of the other children at her classes were already well-versed in it, and a lot of times she found she wanted to quit. Only after learning that her mom Helen did ballet did she willingly pick it up again at an older age, incorporating the technique into her fighting style.

Gwen used to play a few different instruments as a kid but none of them really stuck. For a while, she thought she hated music when she did piano and the recorder, but when she got her hands on a drumkit at her school and a couple lessons, she knew it was the one.

Her drumming is definitely more freestyle, and even though she's good she has a lot of problems with her high energy, spontaneous and emotive style. That means she breaks her drumsticks ALL the time. There's no way she's banging all that out on the drums without an unfortunate snap or two, so she always keeps another pair handy. She's broken her drumsticks so much that there's a collection of them torn up at the bottom of her bag (she never bothers to throw them out, and might've given herself a splinter reaching in to find something 💀)

Speaking of drumsticks, she has one lucky pair she uses for important performances, carrying them practically everywhere. They've essentially rotted in their fancy little fabric case since she'd gottem them, the custom "GWENDOLYN MAXINE STACY" imprinted on it having almost completely eroded away.

Though, she's only ever used them once; her dad had bought them for her for a school performance, which she had to bail last minute when her Spider-sense suddenly activated. Running off to fight a villain not a street away, Peter Parker follows her, and he realises just who Spider-Woman really is.

While she was planning to use them at her prom performance with her band... that never happened. After that, everything reminded her of that night, and her relationship with The Mary Janes dwindled until she quit altogether. The band only lasted a few months prior, and since they never got to perform at prom, Gwen found herself playing for no reason at all, other than to get rid of her pent-up energy and forget about the fact that she's basically a wanted criminal.

When she's living in Hobie's universe, she ends up breaking her "lucky" drumsticks and is, understandably, a little shattered by it, but Hobie gets her another pair, "GWENDY" written in mismatched letters on the side. That "G" was definitely a last-minute addition, though. He also teaches her how to stop breaking them so often. "Bit of advice — use the wrists, not just the arms."

Gwen's definitely not meant to drink, so whenever Hobie goes to the pub he makes sure not to, suggesting his friends don't get pissed out of their minds either (though she might steal a sip of something fruity now and again.)

Hobie takes her to gigs all the time, and sometimes she drums for his ones. The first time she does it, she's nervous of course, but her sound immediately gets the crowd going and it's the talk of the town for a week straight (and her drumsticks didn't break!)

There's no shortage of junk food, of course. Just like all the takeout she'd have back at home, Hobie would make sure to take her around all the local spots. Although it's not exactly the same, anything beats the plasticky cafeteria food in 2099. Stopping for a kebab or two in the middle of anomaly-hunting isn't really against the rules anyway.

Gwen is friendly with pretty much everyone in the Spider-society because everyone knows who "Gwen Stacy" is, but she never really wants to meet another version of herself (given how unsettling it is with context). Also very awkward around any MJs — or Peters. Peter B essentially being an older 65!Peter definitely freaks her out a little at first.

Misses Miles, obviously, and probably had something she wanted to make for him back in her universe that she could never retrieve. Maybe when she gets Hobie's watch she'll bring it along with her — would Miles like a knitted neckwarmer?

SO best friends with Margo. Her tech lets Gwen see into her universe sometimes (Miguel wouldn't let her 😞) and Margo is super keen on learning about her universe. They both hang out with Peni and it's a fun little girl trio (Peni totally takes them to her universe to see all the giant mechs 😁 "Girls night!" BOOM!)

Number 1 girlfail. She hasn't broken those new drumsticks yet! But drumming can wait — and all those projects at the back of her closet, and her unresolved dispute with MJ and the band, and her dad at home. Going from her small world to having an entire multiverse against her and her friends, Gwen's got one hell of a show to put on, right?

“I never found the right band to join, so I started my own, with a few old friends.”

“You want in?”

🩰🕸️💫

@phoenixinthefiles (it's cause of you im always writing hcs 😭😭😭 /pos)

hi bunklies 😁 ive been averaging like 4h of sleep cuz of skl but ill fix up soon trust... hope you are all doing okay ! ive never written anything for gwen before so i hope this is an okay start lol

atsv masterlist here! reblogs always appreciated :) see u around <3

#gwen stacy #gwen stacy headcanons #spider gwen #gwendolyn stacy #earth 65 #spider woman #spiderverse #atsv headcanons #atsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse #itsv #vhstown

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