phil lester sits criss-cross applesauce atop a world of his own creation and smiles. he stands in scuffed shoes and cares steady, holds consideration in gentle palms and offers it like the worst kept secret. jokes, delicate and airy, translucent flower petals and lavender blush and making the world a bit brighter. well meaning words settle whisper quiet into hearts, moulding them into something better, something softer. the rosy brightness of adoration blooms steady behind his eyes and glows for something good.
phil lester sits on his old bedroom floor and tells a camera about his day. ten years later he performs his last show on a worldwide tour, best friend by his side and tucks memories laced in silver and gold in his back pocket for safekeeping. he stumbles and a million hands reach out to balance and propel him forward. happy screams and photos and tweets and art and unadulterated love put down roots in his chest. vines creep across his ribcage and beat in a rhythm only he can hear, safecomfortablewarm. he locks it there, vivid and precious.
phil lester smiles, sunlit and breathtaking, the turn of his lips smeared on and dripping joy like a fingerpainting. he inhales colour and light and sound and exhales creativity, his fingers itch for something just out of his reach. mind floating away, barely there clouds dancing and wispy, and lying back among them and dreams about flying. determination is sharp in his veins and laces through his lungs like string tugging him along, do this make that write this down plan this out. add another rung and climb higher. he twists lovely things with clumsy fingers and adds another line to the autobiography titled how to make the stars appear dim next to this.
phil lester looks at the sky, twinkles wistfully and wonders if he could be up there. he doesn’t realise he’s been flying for years.
...Dan... do you like Valerie? As in... "like" like her?
Literally what is your affinity for this subject??? I’ve already told you my opinion of Valerie, why do you keep pushin’ the issue? What do you expect me to say? Are you wanting a confession or somethin’???
[very loud sigh]
Look, it doesn’t matter, alright? We’re not even in the same timeline anymore. Even if I wanted to tell her something—which I don’t—I wouldn’t be able to. Plus, you’re assuming she’d even want to listen to what I have to say—not that I have anything to say to her anyway. I’ll never see her again, and she’ll never see me, so…that’s that.
So I might have become quickly obsessed with a certain ink demon
With some zoom ins if you click! (I only used the highest quality pens I have, for Bendy. And per usual ink standards, I couldn’t fix any mistakes once they were made, so if you see any, I probably already know)
Wow drawing a 1930 style isn’t easy and I’m sure I’m not doing it right in 500 places, but I enjoy the simplistic face bendy has as it’s more fun to, well, bend.
surrounded the early morning, light peeking from the curtains, shadows playing
tricks on walls, white sheets mustered messily on the mattress, and two people so
terribly engulfed in the shine of each other’s eyes.
The woman slept
soundly, hugging a body pillow, bare naked, breathing evenly as her legs
tangled possessively around the cotton. Her beautiful, smooth skin was painted
with purple and blue, patches of rough love showing proudly as if they were her
The man was
sitting up, back facing her and his feet touching the cold wood, fingers
cascading through his ruffled strands as his ribs rattled with shaky breaths.
His face was contorted with thought, polished with a lovely pink and dark
circles of sleep deprivation. Had he slept a wink, he did not know.
But he sat there
with his lovely, pale skin, contemplating about something one would think silly
to do so, but still he thought.
And then, he
rubbed his face in utter frustration, slapping his cheeks as if to ready
himself, and then faced you, hands lingering above your rising back. And he
spoke quietly, carefully, but oh so lovingly.
His breath tingled
your cheek, his raspy voice tainted with early morning haze automatically made
you smile. You stirred from your slumber slowly, fingers readily reaching
for his that were gently touching your skin. Your eyes cracked open when you
mustered enough energy to do so, lazily staying still and breathing for a few
seconds before rising, blanket covering your body strategically.
He waited in
adoration as you closed your eyes again, sitting there with your head down and
your hair splaying all over your face. You rubbed your face whilst sighing,
curling your legs before moving your head side-to-side, the cracking sounds of
your bones filling the air.
And then you faced
him with a smile, momentarily adjusting your eyes to the sight of him sitting
there in front of you, bare chested and smiling thinly, hands curled and expression
You gave him a
questioning look before reaching to unravel his fingers, slipping yours into his
comfortably before your voice, a ringing fairy bell, pulled him back into
earth, away from the clouds of his wandering mind.
Granted, it wasn’t
perfect. Your voice was a bit raspy but Yoongi loved every pitch, tone, accent
your throat had devoted itself to making. Because ultimately it was yours.
He trembled at
your touch, trying to breathe as evenly as he could, staring at your knuckles
and playing with your joints.
“So I’ve been
You gave a little
whisper of oh no, automatically making him chuckle and you quickly delivering a
grin. “Go on.”
He cleared his
throat, licking his lips tentatively before rushing up to face you.
“I love you.”
knitted in confusion, silence stretching out longer than Yoongi had hoped for.
started out slowly, still a little taken aback, “That’s great, Yoongi, but why
tell me at… four in the morning?”
You wanted to
laugh at the absurdity of this man, but you could tell he had spent time going
over this in his head, again and again and again.
“No, no, no,” He
rushed, shaking his head as his eyes widened, “I love you.”
He had gotten
closer to you, stressing this fact, holding onto you with heightened strength.
And you stared back, mouth slightly agape and eyes blinking in surprise before
your lips cracked into a lovely smile. You slipped your hands slowly to shape
his face, thumb rubbing over his cheeks with soft care, moving his fringe from
his eyes that had watered down its intensity.
“What exactly were
you thinking about, hm?” You hummed softly, moving to tap your forehead to his.
He breathed refreshingly,
closing his eyes momentarily as you went to slide onto his lap, kissing the
crown of his head as you stroked his noir strands.
“I was thinking
about how,” He inhaled, fluttering his eyelashes against your skin, “How
beautiful you are.”
You pulled back to
give him an amused smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“I thought about
how, the expanse of your skin is the only place I find comfort in.” He said
this before kissing your neck, a slow, adoring peck.
“I thought about
how kind you are to me, how supportive and encouraging you’ve always been, even
on the nights I don’t come home.” He whispered sadly, mindlessly messing with a
strand of your hair.
understanding, and caring, and even though sometimes you throw a fit, you admit
the wrongdoings you’ve done. You’re a good person, a lovely one, someone who
has easily become such an important part of my life, I…can’t explain how much
you truly mean to me.”
You sat there in
silence, gazing at his lips that uttered poetry, before kissing him sweetly.
understand why he was praising you so highly, but it didn’t hurt to hear once
in a while. Your heart had done cartwheels and your mind exploded with
fireworks. Yoongi was never one to openly express how he felt, so when he began
with a love confession, even as you were filled with confusion, you fell in
love with him all over again.
He returned the
kiss softly, touching the small of your back to move you in closer before
breaking it, the faint sound of your lips separating made his heart ache, because
even then he had already missed it. You gave him an amorous smile, giggling
before kissing his nose.
began, raking your fingers through his tresses, “I love you too.”
He sighed, it being
filled with so much pure ecstasy and infatuation, you couldn’t explain the
Yoongi sat there regrettably
as you kissed him again, arms wrapped around his pale body, that wasn’t shaking
with anxiety, but with adoration and admiration.
He regretted not
being able to tell you how your eyes resembled gems in the sky, twinkling
always. How your skin was never cold, how your hair always smelled like morning
dew, how the way you sang in the shower always reminded him of joyous children,
how the way you loved was so sincere and affectionate he would never get tired
He regretted not
being able to tell you how your texts still give him butterflies, how your
tears (though rare) always rained down on him with piles of guilt, because such
an angel as you need not to cry, need not to feel sad.
But he can tell
you all of this soon, and he will, but maybe next time, a ring will be hidden
in a bouquet of roses along with the future of what’s to come.