#Both of theirs! The way it reflects their ages and how they feel about each other ♪ Expectations and respect and ahh

[sysig]

No go on please (Patreon)

[milykins]

Poly Dad HCs

Taking the Dad HCs to the next level we have the poly dad HCs. I couldn't help but imagine how things would go if the Reader had children with two or more of the Bayverse guys. I've done all the pairings I could think of. My personal favourite is Blood Orange.

TW: Depictions of poly-type relationships and reverse harem-type relationship (All four with one woman), aged up characters.

Special thanks to @sophiacloud28 for checking it over for me!

Leo and Donnie (Blurple) 💙💜

Parenting children would be fairly harmonious because these two dads are. On. The. Same. Page.

Both have similarly calm demeanors and will likely will be reflected in their kids as well.

They may disagree on the question of who parented who. Leo would prefer to be kept in the dark whereas Donnie would be curious about which ones are biologically his. He would never voice it, though. He loves them all equally of course.

Donnie does the science side of things while Leo covers the spiritual and martial arts side.

They do clash sometimes with the science vs. spirituality argument and may disagree on certain things like bedtime. Leo is fairly strict on certain aspects. The children must have a routine to keep things running smoothly and he is very unmoving on .

Donnie will do his best to follow said routines but is a little more relaxed. Just one more book Leo, then he promises he’ll put the kids to bed. Leo can be persuaded… usually by you, to relax a little bit.

On discipline Leo is definitely the tougher of the two. At times being too hard on the kids. Donnie will step in with a gentler approach, using logic and understanding to solve things. He doesn’t undermine Leo’s discipline techniques but rather shows him that there is more than one way to deal with certain issues.

Between these two their kids are loved, fed, safe, and well taken care of with clear boundaries set to teach them right from wrong.

Raph and Mikey (Blood Orange) ❤️🧡

These two dads may not always be on the same page but they absolutely love their kids. They’re both protective as heck too.

They complement each other well in certain aspects. Mikey does the fun dad thing, while Raph is more on the quieter side. The kids get the best of both worlds.

Neither of them care to know which ones are biologically theirs but it tends to be pretty obvious with certain inherited personality traits.

Surprisingly enough, Raph is the one who ends up sticking to things like a bedtime schedule. In the beginning, Mikey is so lax on it he would let the kids just fall asleep where they may and eat when they were hungry. Raph had to be the one to reel him in, fix up a bedtime schedule and have regularly scheduled meals. It only took one week of no rules or schedule and the two of them had their hands full with grumpy, tired and wild off the rails children. You and Raph end up having to sit Mikey down and explain gently, (on your part, not so much Raph’s) that the kids need some structure. Luckily, Mikey is so easygoing that he easily agrees to the routine and some clear rules and boundaries.

On discipline, Raph starts off being way too hard on the children with some pretty harsh punishments. This is where Mikey actually has to reel him in.

Raph ends up making one of them cry and Mikey is dad mode activated. He asks Raph if he really wants to be that type of parent, the one who scares his kids into behaving.

Despite his stubbornness, this actually sparks a moment of clarity for Raph. After that, he’s softer. He learns that there is a better way to teach his children respect and discipline.

On your part, it’s a bit of a challenge keeping these two on the same page but the one thing they agree on is how much they love their children, and you.

Leo and Mikey (Synergy) 💙🧡

This pairing might also be a little more challenging due to how drastically different these two are. Leo often feels Mikey is like an extra child on top of their biological ones.

They are both unconcerned with which ones are ‘theirs’ all children belong to both of them no matter their personality or who they resemble more.

Leo tries to impose a strict routine early on and expects Mikey to just follow it. Wishful thinking on his part you would say.

Mikey does at first… but easily finds loopholes to get around things like sneaking the kids treats before dinner, reading just one more book at bedtime and citing that there’s just five more minutes on the movie they’re watching.

At first it drives Leo crazy and he wastes a lot of energy trying to push his younger brother to fall in line. So many lectures on why a routine is important and deviating from it will cause unwanted behaviours etc.

Mikey may be the fun loving easygoing one out of the two of them but he will not be steamrolled by his brother. He does stand up to Leo when he sees fit because he’s a parent too and he has a say in how their children will be raised. Leo doesn’t expect this and along with you gently pushing him to actually listen to his brother for once.

With your help, Mikey actually gets Leo relax a little with his strict schedules and rigid discipline ideals.

The most incredible thing that happens as a result is Leo learning how to have fun and actually play with his kids. Mikey and the kids rope him into dance parties, tea parties, pillow fights and the like.

At first Leo is fairly awkward feels out of place but then he finds he secretly loves it.

Mikey brings out his playful side and Leo in return helps Mikey be calmer and more apt to raise the children with some healthy boundaries. Discipline, kindness, honour and a huge amount of love is how this parenting relationship would go.

Mikey and Donnie (Wise Crack) 🧡💜

Coparenting between these two is a pretty relaxing affair. Both employ gentle parenting techniques and both would need guidance from you on discipline practices and routines.

Just enough so that the kids don’t walk all over them. Once they have that down, the two of them would likely get along pretty well and be on the same page for the most part.

Donnie is still the fun science dad and Mikey is the fun playful dad. Between these two, their children are never bored.

Donnie might need ‘resetting’ from time to time, getting too consumed in his work, wrapped up in his projects and spending too much time in his lab. This is where Mikey comes into play.

He will team up with the children and ‘bully’ him into leaving his work and spending time with them. He’ll play directly into his love of science and all things technology-related too.

He’ll schedule a visit to the museum, the planetarium or plan some fun science experiments, bonus if they end up exploding and Don has to step in before someone (likely Mikey) hurts themselves. He does these things even though science tends to be pretty boring to him, but the kids absolutely love it. Mikey ends up learning how to like science as a result.

Donnie, in turn learns the importance of spending time with his children and cuts down on his work in the lab for good.

The children, and you of course are much better off with two committed, available dads that love you and their children more than anything.

Raph and Leo (Viole-n-t) ❤️💙

Oh, these two… they barely like sharing YOU, parenting their collective children is a whole other challenge in itself.

Raph automatically pushes back on Leo’s strict schedule and boundaries without a second thought.

The two of them undermine each other constantly when it comes to their chosen parenting practices. These are two strong-willed men with very stubborn personalities.

Raph says screw the schedule and lets the children stay up later or Leo steps in during Raph’s training sessions to take over because he can ‘do it’ better. Unfortunately, it ends with the two of them arguing it out and fighting in front of the children.

You, the matriarch of the family has to knock them down a couple pegs.

The two of them begrudgingly agree to a ‘truce’ because you are actually the logical one in this situation and point out the fact that they’re acting like children themselves and their behaviour is upsetting everyone. The one thing these two do agree on is having the kids feel safe and happy, so much so that they’ll swallow their pride and try to get along.

With more prompting you’ll get them to agree to split the fatherly responsibilities right down the middle.

They both are in agreement and things like bathtime, bedtime, meal times and playtime all get organized, you tackle the discipline issue with them as well.

You are quite clear that neither one of them are to undermine the other in terms of discipline and you all agree on one technique, firm but gentle.

Leo and Raph can manage to put their differences aside for the sake of their family and there will be rare moments where the two of them do get along.

Neither can resist their little ones asking if their ‘daddies’ can play dolls or cars or make-believe. Neither can say no to the innocent requests of their little ones.

You manage to snap some adorable photos. Raph wearing a feathered boa and a silly hat, and Leo with his pinky out sipping a tiny cup of ‘tea’. They both learn how to relax and actually be better parents and surprisingly nicer to each other as well.

Raph and Donnie (Magenta) ❤️💜

A bit of an odd pairing, but we’re doing it. Raph and Donnie would be a similar dynamic to Raph and Mikey except Donnie would be more on board for establishing a routine.

These two might butt heads over education. Donnie would be absolutely serious about making sure the children have a proper education.

Raph would be more lax about it, stating that it’s not a big deal, just teach them to read, that’s all they need, don’t they? He’d figure his children would be raised with just the minimum amount of knowledge like he and his brothers were.

Donnie would vehemently argue that their children deserve way more than just the bare minimum. He’ll get really heated over it, stating that the kids need more than just learning how to punch things.

You will have to step in at this point to calm them down and it might take a few discussions to get Donnie to relax a little and for Raph to embrace the idea that training their minds is just as important as training their bodies.

They can easily split responsibilities on that. Raph and Donnie embrace the idea that their kids will be smart and strong.

In the end, these two are great fathers in supporting their children in whatever they choose to do. They get along well and coexist rather peacefully together.

All Four (Fruit Salad) 💜❤️💙🧡

If you somehow manage a relationship with not one, not two but all four of the brothers, raising children with them will be an interesting affair.

At first you don’t discuss the matter, but after spending mating season with them and giving each one adequate time, you do wind up with a surprise pregnancy.

There’s no telling who the father is though until after the baby is born and all of you do agree to use DNA testing to determine the actual father.

The result does spark a discussion about future children and in the end you agree to give each remaining brother a mating season and a child. It takes a few years of spacing out the pregnancies but each of them will end up with a biological child by the end of it.

Parenting these children actually isn’t as difficult as you might think. It all comes back to the age-old saying: it takes a village to raise a child.

They are a team after all, and they all raise the children collectively as one.

All of them do take advice and pointers from you and try not to undermine each other.

It does take some planning, discussions about schedules and routines to get them all on the same page.

By the end of it the children have four caring, loving fathers who would do anything for their little ones. They all balance each other out quite well.

There’s Mikey’s fun, playful, affectionate nature, Leo’s calm, peaceful demeanor, Raph’s passionate, protective way of being and Donnie’s quiet softness. You get this and more with this type of family dynamic and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

Taglist

@danceingfae @thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus

@the-cauldron-witch @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28

@definitely-canon @scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs @fyreball66 @yorshie

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist

[the-matron-of-ravens]

Aeorians and The Gods are Mirrors of Each other

I've seen a lot of discussion about how contrasting and diametrically opposed the mortals and gods are. And (particularly on CR Twitter) that this is a tragedy of oppressive gods striking down mortals who dared to resist.

Well, I don't think that's entirely accurate. Rather than being opposites of each other I think that the Aeorians in power and the Gods are acting more like mirrors for each other. Reflecting the failings and flaws of the other.

Let's take a look at some of the criticisms that the gods have received from both Aeorians and fandom under the Read More (cause long):

the Gods have hoarded power and abilities and resources from mortals to increase their own power

the Gods have used disproportionate violence against and ignored the plight of mortals because they could/because they hated them

the Gods have taken domain of lands/worlds that aren't theirs and done with them as they want - even at the expense of mortals

When it became convenient/dangerous/tough the Gods caused this chaos and abandoned mortals to their fate or worse are actively trying to destroy the mortals

The gods don't care for mortals - at worst mortals are bugs to squash - at best they view mortals as "prized pets" and things to be controlled

Ultimately, having these entities with this much power and resources is fundamentally not just dangerous but an existential threat

There are others but those seem to be the main critiques that I've observed.

Well, now let's take a look at Aeor and Aeorian society that we've learned over the course of Downfall p.1 and p.2

When in Hawk's Hill, the most important goal of Aeorians was taking tribute via food, rare resources, and materials, etc. for their secret project. All the while people starving for food watched on as riches passed them by, and Ayden daring to help them was seen as a huge risk.

Aeorians - during the time of the Age of Arcanum - took a chunk of the earth, raised it (crucially) above the rest of the world because they could and because it signalled their power and superiority over everyone else.

Then during the time of the Calamity, Aeor - as the "last bastion of civilization/mortals" has shuttered their doors. As we saw with Hawk's Hill after the resources were taken on board, those that could *work and serve* were prioritized first. And those that were sick or religious? Left for dead and discarded. (Edit: this is to say nothing about the way Aeorians have tried to eradicate all traces of the natural world and its animals from aeor)

Aeorians have developed the ability to create an entirely new species of people with souls - Aeormatons, they have developed the power of creation. They have also developed a weapon so powerful it can kill gods multiple times over. And the decision of who to target or when is completely in the hands of those in power.

Aeorians have been seen subjugating fiends, devils, demons, constructs, elementals - all symbols of divine power. Humiliating them and displaying their superiority by treating them as pets.

Are you picking up what I'm putting down?

Both the Gods and Mortals are guilty of all of these things. Some more than others.

Civilian Aeorians had no control over the high ranking Aeorians building a weapon or subjugating other species. Just as the Prime Deities were helpless to stop the Betrayer Gods from manipulating mortals into starting the Calamity. Just as they were helpless to do anything other than take up arms to try and prevent a genocide of their children by their siblings.

The power differential there is massive - but the result is the same. Both are groups of people being collectively punished for the crimes of a part of them.

The problem is we've moved passed Mutually Assured Destruction - where theoretically there could be a stalemate because both sides know the other could take them out. We've moved into a situation where both Aeorians and the Gods feel that if they don't shoot first, it is them who will be dead.

Once both sides have determined that to give in/not shoot would mean their destruction? We're headed for a unavoidable trainwreck.

My final takeaway here is that I think Matt has very very intentionally made it so both the Gods and the Mortals are reflections of each other. There is no unequivocal bad guy in power here and there is no unequivocal good guy in power.

The only end result here whether the weapon is completed or the gods strike Aeor down is a tragedy where innocents die because of those in power.

The only end result here is a world in which those in power cause more destruction and death than they ever thought themselves capable of because they felt forced into it or were blinded by their hate. Where even those who thought themselves "good" and "fair" and "helping" look at themselves and the result of their actions and see waste and destruction.

But I do have a question...after the Calamity and seeing what it wrought - the Prime Deities made the decision to not just banish their traitorous siblings away but themselves as well. To limit their own power - and by extension their ability to harm.

Would the Archmages of Aeor have done the same?

I'm not convinced to be honest.

[hauntedhokage]

𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚜

Fushiguro Megumi/F!Reader

summary: Megumi has held onto a lot over the last few years, a chance encounter in a park begins his road to letting go. A expansion of this little thing that will hurt more but at least I fix it?

word count: 5.5k

warnings: angst, jjk manga spoilers, character death, my canon ending and gege can’t take that from me

note: reader’s nephew does not have a name to be inclusive of other cultures/names. Reader/her nephew are not indicated as being of Japanese descent - just living in Japan. 

Megumi meets you in the spring. 

He’s walking through the park on a Saturday morning, wanting to get some sunlight after a few days kept inside due to gloomy weather. It’s quieter than he’d expected, given the time and the weather, but he wasn’t complaining about it in the slightest. The quiet gave him less to worry about, less to be on the lookout for, and he felt like he could relax for a minute. The quiet gave him time to reflect on the number of times he was at this park as a kid on Saturday mornings with his sister and their benefactor. On occasion it hurts to be there, certain days of the year or holidays, but if the sun was out he liked to make sure he went on this walk. It was one of the few places they both were with him at. 

He enjoys the solitude, even the little excited footsteps he hears running around somewhere behind him that meant someone was having fun in the near empty park close by.

Until he feels a tug on his sleeve.

He looks down to see a child, couldn’t be older than five or six, staring up at him in mild confusion. Clearly he was expecting someone else, and that has Megumi looking around for the adult tied to this child. The playground was a bit far from where they were standing, so it was possible the little one was trying to play a joke on his parent and strayed too far. 

“I think you’ve got the wrong person,” is all he can think to say to the kid, and internally he’s cringing at himself because that wasn’t what you should say to a potentially lost child. “Were you at the playground?”

“Yeah, but-“

“Oh there you are!” 

“Auntie!” And the kid is off, running towards the source of the voice as Megumi turns to see who it was as well. You had to be around his age, relief etched into your features as you gently scold the boy for running off like that and request that he never scare you like that again. Then you’re looking to Megumi as you stand, and it clicks for him why the boy might’ve mistaken him for his aunt despite the obvious differences: you were wearing the same sweater. A crew neck pull over for a band so old they’d stopped touring and their original merch was highly coveted, some of which being the sweatshirts you both wore as you look at each other.

“I’m sorry that he might’ve disrupted your walk.”

“It’s no trouble,” he assures, watching the way you ruffled the kid’s hair in a way that was reminiscent of how Gojo would ruffle his hair. “I’m just glad you found us quickly.”

“Me too.” And now it’s awkward, he knows he should excuse himself but he doesn’t know how. You’re pretty with a wonderful smile, good taste in music, and the kindest eyes he’s seen in a while. Not since he met Yuuji. 

“What show of theirs did you catch?” He asks, gesturing between the two matching sweaters and watching as you look down at it. 

“Uh, they were playing in Shibuya.” You say the name of the city softly, and he feels the knife in his chest at the mention. Clearly Shibuya had a negative effect on you, too, he just wondered if the reasoning was similar. “You?”

“Yokohama.” His answer rolls off the tongue easily, even though he can’t help but think about how that group was one of the few things he and Gojo had in common. The blue eyed menace was so excited to show him the two tickets, gloating about how hard he’d worked to ensure those tickets made it to his email and the way Gojo practically abused his cursed technique to make them a path to the front - something that embarrassed Megumi at fifteen but at twenty two he appreciated it much more, and he wished he could’ve verbally given his appreciation even though he knew that Gojo always knew. It was his annoying talent, something he’d taken for granted. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, your hand still on your nephew’s head but this time Megumi thinks it’s more to keep the boy in place than out of affection. 

“Yeah, totally fine.”

“Sure.” You’re smiling despite clearly not believing him, and he feels his cheeks warm up at the thought of someone seeing right through him so easily. “Anyway, we’ll let you get back to your morning. Sorry again, but hopefully we’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, I hope so too.”

You’re leaving now, letting the excited kid pull you back to the playground while telling you about how he needed to show you something cool he found in the sand box. He did hope he saw you again, he realized that he hadn’t introduced himself or gotten your name. 

The next time he sees you, it’s at the grocery store just a few days later. You’re carefully examining some avocados while your nephew waits patiently in the shopping cart while holding a box of crackers. It’s the young boy who sees him first, excitedly waving while calling out to him as “park man”, which brings your attention from the avocados to Megumi as he waves awkwardly. You were dressed for the warmer weather, in a sundress as bright as your smile when you lock eyes with him. 

“When I said hopefully we’ll see you around, I didn’t think it’d be in two days.”

“I didn’t know going to the grocery store was off limits,” he responds, tone dry as always but it doesn’t faze you in the slightest. “I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Megumi.”

You introduce yourself and your nephew, who is excited to tell him that he’s about to turn six and Megumi nods with a smile that he really only gave to children so they wouldn’t think he was mean. But then the kid asks if Megumi wants to go his birthday party, something that has you telling him that it’s okay if he’s busy, but he has nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon but stare at a television that isn’t even turned on, so he says that he’d love to be there and relished in how excited the boy is at the information. Why this kid liked him so much after two interactions, he’d never know, but it did feel nice to make other people happy.  

“It’s going to be at the trampoline park, because what else is more entertaining than watching kids jump and fall?” He has to laugh at that, something that makes you smile as you pull your phone out. He gives you his contact information so you can text him the details of the party. “You don’t have to bring a gift or anything like that, it’s such short notice and he’s not really a gift getting kid.”

“No?”

“More of a quality time kind of guy,” you elaborate, smiling at your nephew as he plays with two bananas to make them talk to each other. “He might get that from me.”

“You’re a quality time kind of girl,” he comments, something that wasn’t supposed to be said out loud and the way you look up at him tells him that he definitely said that out loud. “I-I didn’t mean that in a weird way. Just-”

“You’re cute, Megumi.” You’re smiling again, amusement sparkling in those eyes he was quickly coming to adore. “Next Saturday, be there or be square.”

“What happened to ‘you don’t have to come’?”

“As you pointed out, I’m a quality time kind of girl. So if you’re not there, I’ll be upset.”

He can only scoff, cheeks pink as he brings the hand not holding his shopping basket to the back of his neck. It wasn’t fair that you’d figured out how to tease him so easily and here he was just mesmerized by your smile. 

It’s in the summer that Megumi realizes that he’s caught severe feelings. 

Your nephew truly liked him a lot, and you’d asked him if he was okay with spending a bit more time around them. He needed a positive male influence in his life, and Megumi was put together enough that he felt safe to spend that time with your nephew. 

He was often at your house for dinner, helping the kid with homework while you cooked. Saturday morning walks at the park turned into bird watching with colorful binoculars that were too small for his face but matched perfectly with your nephew. Board games and trying out different sports he knew how to play to appease your hope that the kid found some weekday hobby that wasn’t just playing in his room. In this additional time with you, he’d learned more about you. 

You worked in finance for a tech company, some unplanned departures occurring in your department as you came in, leaving you in charge of the department since you already had experience due to your internship you had in the company in university. 

Finance, something that made him think of Nanami even as he continues to ask you questions that you happily answer about your work despite laughing that it made for a boring conversation topic. It’s not hard for him to pick up on the fact that you hated your job - potentially just because you hated the responsibility of being in management - something that makes him wonder if you’d ever let him take care of you completely so you wouldn’t have to work. He liked you that much, which was insane considering he’d only known you for a few months. 

He gets to take you out on a real date when your nephew is away for a sleepover. 

“Where’s my buddy?” Megumi asks, noticing that there wasn’t the usual excited charge of footsteps barrelling towards him as he tried to take his shoes off. He hadn’t been told about a change in the schedule, but it also wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten to be alone with you so it wasn’t weird by any means. 

“Sleepover. His first one,” you answer from the kitchen, and he follows your voice to where you’re cutting up fruit. “It’s a little weird, I’ve never spent a night away from him since I adopted him.”

“I can imagine,” he comments, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen with his arms crossed. “Do you maybe want to go out tonight? Get a drink or something that’s less than child friendly?”

He watches as you consider it, your hand that was once diligently slicing strawberries halted as you look down at the cutting board.

“Go out?”

“Yeah- I mean, if you want to stay in that’s fine,” he tries to recover, hoping he hadn’t offended you by suggesting you go do something people your age did when they didn’t have children for the night. “I just was thinking that-”

“No, it’s a good idea!” You sound excited, setting the knife down to turn to face him properly. You look at what he’s wearing before looking down at your own clothes, he assumes to check and make sure you’re not underdressed, and you seem okay with your attire. “What time should we head out?”

“Whenever you’re ready, there’s no rush since it’s just us two and no babysitter who needs to get home.” He doesn’t want to point out that most bars are going to be open until well after midnight, because he knows that dedicating your life to raising a child while single produces a lot of missed opportunities to do things that a lot of people your age did. Plus you never had a chance to really get into going out like that, not that he really did either. “Relax, you aren’t going to be graded on how you act in a bar.”

“Okay, but like how should I dress? Is this okay or like…better sweater?”

“I think you look great.” His cheeks are warm, he’s sure they’re at least pink if not bright red as he looks away from your smile, embarrassed that he’d said something so forward. What if you weren’t into him like that? He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. In the back of his mind, he thinks of Nobara and how she always had an outfit for any occasion - and if she didn’t, she was demanding a trip into the city so she could buy it.Appearances were close to everything to her, and you were a lot like her in that way.  

But that’s something he doesn’t have to worry about after your evening together. He’d taken you home, not realizing that he’d been holding your hand the entire way until you gave it a gentle squeeze at your door. The invitation to come in and hang out for a while is accepted embarrassingly quickly, but he feels comfortable sitting across from you on the couch as you tell him about how you’d come into being the guardian of your nephew. To hear that your family had died in Shibuya when your nephew was a baby was not something he was ready to hear, a guilt washing over him that he was unable to save anyone in that situation. You’d lost everything because of his lack of strength - he supposed you had so much more in common than he’d initially realized.

“No remains to pay respects to, they just…never came home.” He’s impressed that you keep your emotions in check as you talk about the loss. His hand comes to hold yours that rests on the back of the couch, thumb stroking the back of your hand as you try to smile for him. “Sorry, kinda killed the mood a bit.”

“No, not at all,” he tries to assure, scooting closer to you on the couch as you shake your head. “I appreciate that you shared that with me, truly.”

“You just feel safe, Megumi. I really like you a lot, if that’s not weird to say.” Your confession has his stomach turning, heart pounding as he’s relieved to hear that from you. “I’m glad you wanted to spend time with me tonight.”

“Of course I did, I really like you too.” He’s mumbling, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck. It’s your turn to scoot closer, needing to move your legs to the side so you could get as close as you could. “It’d be nice to take you out more, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“Yeah, of course.” You’re leaning in closer, and he takes the opportunity to meet you halfway in a kiss. Your hands hold his cheeks, and he basks in how soft you are. Your hands, your lips, your heart, just everything - a softness he’d been lacking over the past few years. You remind him of Yuuji with how welcoming you were, how relaxed and non-judgemental you were, plus you always managed to smile like his friend did. 

“I’d wanted to do that since you jumped into the foam cubes with me at the trampoline park,” you whisper, and he feels the warmth radiating off of your cheeks as he keeps you close to him. 

“You’ve got me however you want me,” he assures, holding your chin in place so he could kiss you again. 

Megumi realizes that he’s in love with you in the fall.

The quickly approaching anniversary of the Shibuya Incident has you both on edge, something he tries to push down for your nephew’s sake since he was excited for Halloween. He takes the boy shopping for a costume, where the question if they could have matching costumes comes up. He, personally, had no interest in even being around on Halloween - more interested in sitting in Gojo’s apartment cleaning or crying, whatever came up first. 

But he sees how excited the kid is and has to say yes. 

They settle on being pirates, a decision that had you smiling when you saw the shopping bags and heard the excited chattering about how he and Megumi were going to be pirates together for Halloween. Your nephew would be the pirate captain, Megumi his loyal first mate, with room for you on the crew if you wanted to join them. For obvious reasons you also weren’t big on Halloween but put on a brave face for your nephew, and agreed to join their crew with a promise to get your costume soon. 

And Megumi tags along when you do go shopping, taking advantage of another sleepover to spend an afternoon and evening together without risk of a nightmare or other need sending the child into your bed to wedge himself between you and Megumi for a more comforting night of rest. You also didn’t have to cook dinner, Megumi treating you to an easy meal at a sushi restaurant you’d mentioned wanting to try before letting you lead him around the shops to find the perfect pieces to your costume that could also be reused as everyday clothes. 

“You think it’ll be cute?” you ask, holding up the red blouse to your body. “Not like, as a pirate, but in the office? Maybe the gray pantsuit I have?”

“Maybe the black one more than the gray, you also have those pinstripe pants you like.”

“You mean the ones that you like?” your teasing has him red, looking away from your smug expression and down at the shopping bags he was holding for you. 

“Yeah, they’re uh- they’re cute on you.”

He thinks you get too much satisfaction in his embarrassment, but happily pays for your blouse because you would look cute in it and he liked investing in your cuteness and his pleasure in seeing you be cute in your professional wear. Did you hate it? Absolutely, but did it stop him? Absolutely not

And when you’re done, he takes you back to his apartment since it was closer than yours. You hadn’t really been in his space before, only once for a few minutes when you needed to grab your nephew’s jacket that had been left in Megumi’s car (another relic of Gojo’s that barely saw use). This would be different, you’d be staying the night, seeing more parts of him that you hadn’t yet seen. 

To be expected, you explore the space when he asks that you make yourself at home. Your jacket, a zip up he’d left behind that you’d absorbed into your closet, is hung up on the coat rack and you do a slow lap around your living room as he gets the water he’d offered. Questions are sent his way about art on the walls, his video game collection, the books on the bookcase, and he answers them all without needing to look at what you’re asking about. The art he’d gotten from an old mentor (an item from Nanami’s home that Shoko thought he would like), he did really like playing video games - mostly online ones with Yuuji, and the books didn’t get as much time off the bookcase as they should (something that gets a laugh from you as you turn away from the bookcase. 

But then you get to the shelves, commenting on the little figures that sat there and how cool it was that you had so many things from other countries, and he braces himself for when you finally focus on the picture that sat there. The figures were all souvenirs from Gojo’s travels, most of them given to him when he was still a child but something his benefactor carried into his teenage years since it’d become a tradition. It wasn’t until Gojo died that Megumi had learned that all of his figures had a match that lived in Gojo’s den. Now when Megumi got to travel he got a trinket for himself and another to add to Gojo’s collection, as was tradition. 

“Hey, Megumi, who’s this?” you ask, pointing at the lone picture on the shelf as he hands you a glass of water. “Your dad?”

And for the first time, he looks at that picture he took from Gojo’s apartment and doesn’t feel his stomach drop. It was a picture of him with Gojo celebrating his acceptance into Jujutsu High (as if someone of Zen’in descent would ever be denied with or without Gojo’s interference), a rare picture of himself as a teen with Gojo where he’s smiling by choice and not just to appease whoever was behind the camera. One of few photos of only him and Gojo, and a photo that Megumi cherished. 

“Yeah, kinda,” he starts, drinking from his own glass while pointing to the white haired menace printed on paper. “He took my sister and I in when we were kids. Basically my dad, since I never really knew my real father.”

“You have a sister?”

“She passed away when we were teenagers, around when I started high school.” That was the easiest explanation, bringing in the information around the curse and other things you wouldn’t really understand was just easier. “He, uh, he did too a couple years later. Trying to save me.”

You don’t say anything, only wrap your arm around him so you can rub his back as he tries to maintain his composure. He knows he doesn’t have to, you’d proven time and time again that you were a safe space for him to not be so guarded, but Gojo was such a sensitive topic for him. They all were, but Gojo raised him - Gojo made him who he was today - he was beyond special in Megumi’s heart and his memory deserved to be protected. 

“Come sit,” you prompt, pulling him from the wall and he lets you guide him to the couch. The blanket that sat on the back of the couch is grabbed as soon as you have hands free to do so, pulling it over his body as he crashes into you. He’s more than just comfortable enough to release the emotional buildup into your chest while you pet his head, running your fingers through his hair as you encourage him to let it out. The last time he cried like this was when he’d learned that Gojo had died, punching into the ground until Shoko and Yuuji had to drag him off of the cement and clean him up. And here he was now, sobbing into your chest like a child but not feeling ashamed about it in the slightest. 

“You’re so strong, Megumi,” you whisper, kissing his head and letting your lips linger as he sniffles. “But you don’t have to be all the time. Thank you for trusting me to take care of you.”

“H-his name was Satoru,” Megumi forces out, something that has you holding him just a bit tighter as you rest your cheek against his head. “Satoru Gojo. And I owe him everything.”

It’s about twenty minutes before he’s truly calmed down, but he’s grateful that you’re so safe for him to just let it all go. He makes no move to leave your loving embrace, securely held in your arms and ready to doze off against your chest. It probably wasn’t very comfortable for you, his bed was a better spot to snuggle up and sleep, but you didn’t ask for him to relocate with you. You kept him there, kept him close, and the sound of your heartbeat lulls him to sleep with your fingers gently scratching his scalp and your other hand rubbing his back. He tiredly considers that you’d likely been crammed into much more uncomfortable positions while caring for your nephew, but will do his best to remember to offer you some kind of massage or something in the future. 

In the morning he takes you into Gojo’s apartment. Still untouched, only a light layer of dust had collected that he’d be cleaning up later. Not once do you ask why the apartment was still vacant, or why Megumi kept everything in there - he’s sure you’d already come to a reason for that on your own and it was likely the correct one. Instead you ask him about Gojo; about the choices in decor, if they had any routines or traditions they participated in, favorite shows and how he cooked. Anything that came to mind, and Megumi answered each question without hesitation. Even some questions about Tsumiki and how she was as a sister; if you asked, he would answer while you walked around the living areas while avoiding the bedrooms as he’d requested. 

“Hey Megumi?” you comment after about an hour, looking up from a picture of Gojo and Shoko as teens to see him dusting around the coffee table. “Thank you for bringing me here, and trusting me with your love for Satoru and Tsumiki.”

On reflex he wants to deny that he loved Gojo, something he’d done a lot before his death, but instead he only nods before glancing down at the table. The succulent that was there would need to be replaced, probably the seventh Megumi has bought to keep the space exactly as it once was. And he realizes in that moment just why he’d brought you here - he loved you so much that he wanted you to know about his family. 

“Well, I figured it was time since we’d been together for a while. Family comes up, and you’d already mentioned yours.” The response has you nodding, putting the picture frame back and making sure that it looked exactly as it had before. “I love you, y’know?”

“Yeah, I figured,” you say softly, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “You’re kinda obvious, even though you try not to be.”

“It didn’t click until this morning, to be fair,” he defends, something that has you shaking your head for with a smile. 

“I love you too, dork.” You’re leaning up to kiss him, something chaste given the environment. “We’ll have to swap out some of the plants here. I think I can save a couple, though.”

“If you could try, I’d appreciate it. A couple of the palms are from when he was still alive and I’ve barely kept them alive.”

“Then I’ll do everything I can.” Your assurance earns another kiss from Megumi, his thanks whispered against your lips before you check your watch. “Gotta go pick up the kid, though. I know you’re going to dust a bit more, so the dinner invite is there if you want it. But, I’ll see you later, Megs,” you assure as you slide into your shoes, following that with the fact that you were going to get your keys from his apartment before heading out to get your nephew. 

Instead of picking up the duster, he follows behind you while assuring you that he could clean while you were at work and the kid was at school on Monday - the time with you two over the weekend was more important than cleaning to appease his ghosts. 

Two years later Megumi finds himself married. On the day you’d met him in the park, something small with his remaining friends who lived (Yuuji being the most excited to spin you around in your wedding dress) and the few people you’d kept in your circle. Yuuji also takes your nephew for the ten days you were away for your honeymoon in Malaysia, ten days that feel odd without the young boy asking questions about the various things he saw along the beach or on the little events you both went to. But you did spend more time than probably necessary looking through various gift shops holding up shirts and other trinkets to commemorate the trip and make sure there were plenty of good things for your nephew to get as gifts. They’d have to go back with him, teach him about what they’d learned from the locals and see the sights and different wildlife that weren’t in Japan. A fun family vacation, one of many he’d like to take you both on. 

He moves into a modest home with his little family, bigger than both of your apartments had been but nothing excessive. Enough space should you both choose to expand your family, but the only recent addition is a set of kittens that spend their days ruining the curtains and trying to sleep in his shoes. Satoru and Suguru were little chaos agents, but were the perfect additions to the family and that fact was consistently cemented when he saw them sleeping on either side of your nephew’s head every night.

Gojo’s palms live in your new home, a few of the pictures from his apartment living on the walls and the mantle. He’d finally felt ready to let go of the space that Gojo would never return to, taking a few afternoons with you, Yuuji, and Shoko to go through it all and make sure they got pieces of Gojo that they had also wanted. Yuuji, of course, takes the expensive lounge chair and a few pictures, but Shoko was very selective about the few photos she wanted and the lighters Gojo was consistently stealing from her and hoarding. Those pieces of Gojo that meant the most to Megumi lived in your home, everything else in a storage unit for Megumi to dig through when he thinks of something you’d like to see or your nephew would like to see. When he travels for work, he still buys two trinkets but the second goes to your nephew while he keeps the first - a new version of the tradition and repetition of the cycle. 

The festival season brings about his usual anxiety of people being around in large crowds to celebrate, too reminiscent of how they were led into the subway station like lambs to slaughter and butchered by curses. The flames of Sukuna’s technique flash through his mind, tension settling in his shoulders even as you grip his hand tighter while moving through the crowds. “We can go home, Megumi. I forgot today was-”

“No, we’re already out and he’s having fun. Go do what you need to do, we’ll be around.” The assurance is met with a concerned frown and he does his best to smile for you before kissing your forehead. He can understand why you don’t buy it, at this point he’d given you all of the details surrounding the Shibuya incident and after, but he needs you to relax and trust him - even if he is having a hard time relaxing. “Really, it’ll be fine. You’ll do your shopping, we’ll go get food, then we’ll get home to the cats. Easy plan.”

“Alright. I’ll be back in like twenty minutes,” you start, looking between your nephew and Megumi with a smile. “Be good, you two.”

“Best behavior.” They both salute to you, and Megumi feels warm at the way you laugh before walking away in your pretty sundress. The sun at your back made it look as if you were glowing, which to him you were. His light at the end of the tunnel, his wife that he never expected to have three years ago. But the sun at your back means the sun will be in his face, and the face of the nephew who broke his sunglasses this morning. 

“Here, put these on,” he says, squatting to be at eye level with the boy - his nephew - and places the round sunglasses he wore onto the little face in front of him. “Better?”

A nod, and Megumi gives a nod of his own before picking the boy up as he stands, lifting him to sit on his shoulders so he was less likely to lose the kid while you were trying to shop for a birthday present in private. The boy was almost getting too big for Megumi to hold on his shoulders like that as often as he did, but he’d do it as long as he could - just like Gojo always did. 

And he knows that this is what Gojo always wanted for him. A life outside of jujutsu sorcery to escape to when the woes of fighting curses became too strong, a family to take care of him just as he took care of them. Gojo always wanted him to feel loved and be comfortable showing love in return, and Megumi had found that in you and the kid sitting on his shoulders pointing out different vendors on the street. 

“You good, Megs?” you ask once you’re back with them, your hand sliding into his as his other hand reaches for the couple bags you’d gotten while you were gone.

“Perfect,” he assures, bending his knees a bit so you could meet him for a kiss. “I’m going to need some new sunglasses, though.” 

“I saw that and doubled back, there are some in the bag for you.” Once again you amaze him by how well you watch him even when he thinks you’re not. That must’ve been why you took so long to get back. “Thought you might want to try a different style, though.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

[eluxcastar]

Who is it that looks back at you in the mirror?

── ୨୧：la signora, pantalone x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: you used to see yourself stare back at you when you looked in the mirror, but through a haze of fuzzy memories and the 'help' of the fair lady, something about your reflection looks...off.

୨୧﹑genre :: idk it's food eat it

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, implied yandere, mentions of drugging, possibly ooc, proofreading? we don't use that word in this house, bad writing and really ramble-ish tbh 😭

୨୧﹑words :: 1063

atp I'll do anything just to post so you know I'm not dead and so I can say I actually posted this year. I was going to write about Signora on her own, then about Pantalone on his own and then I remembered commedia dell'arte has them married or something and I was like "this" maybe I'll write something fluffy next time so I don't sit there for ages wondering wtf to words, I finished both posts tho so maybe they'll come next (Pantalone's came before nvm 💀)

the last people you expect to share a mutual interest are the fair lady Signora and the banker Pantalone, yet you are constantly fussed over, constantly spoiled, constantly dressed up, constantly treasured. you expect them to be rivals for your affection if they want to share you, and yet this agreement of theirs is mutually beneficial to the point they're perfectly content with sharing. the funding for Signora’s efforts in dressing you up are provided by Pantalone, allowing her the financial freedom to do anything and everything she wants to you, just so long as she turns around to flaunt the results to the banker like you're some kind of prize on auction.

it is not uncommon for Signora to fix your hair, somehow manage to find garments that compliment you even without you there, keep you at least looking happy like you're enjoying this kind of abstract torture. she gets unusually fussy when you don't eat well enough, probably the risk of you looking awkward in some outfits she picked out or maybe just you attempting to starve yourself to escape. she insists you look at it yourself to see, and in those clothes you could swear she just dressed you in, someone else stares back at you. 

every morning you're served a pill by the banker and get told to take it, regardless of the fact it makes you drowsy and weak in the knees. that's probably what make them give it to you, a concoction of drugs that keeps you just unaware enough it's hard to tell where you are or what you're doing, though you can walk and recognise things, you're kept feeling detached from yourself and just when the feeling wears off by the next morning, you're thrown back in. it feels as if a different person stares back at you in the mirror each time, someone lost and often confused, who smiles when they're told even when you thought you were resisting that. 

that person can't be you, can it?

it’s not a drastic difference, drearier than you remember. they look like you, you can tell that much. It’s just not you somehow. you used to think it was, but slowly it becomes less and less familiar. your body stops doing the things you want it to do and instead complies to the wants of those two. they want you and you go, Pantalone wants to treat you like an accessory and perch you in his lap then you sit, La Signora wants you to sit still and bear the discomfort of what she picks out and you do that. it's not a question, you just oblige.

you've never liked the way the hands of the banker touch you—like some possession that he owns—neither has Signora, you notice how she glares just a little when he has his hands all over you like a shiny ring of the finest Noctilucous Jade money can buy. still, neither of them have killed each other yet. you wonder how exactly, but maybe it's just the fact he's abusing your compliance to let him touch you. she certainly doesn't seem to mind as long as she gets to touch you too, still sitting in his lap and still the centrepiece meant for their enjoyment. 

something to be poked and prodded at and squeezed. didn't you join the Fatui to fight? when exactly was it that you lost your way and fell into the arms of these two?

at first you didn't mind, finding it to be harmless gestures, a touch that lasts too long or a stare you notice out of the corner of your eye. more than affection you'd call it merely an ‘interest’, the affection only started when one of them managed to get you working under them as a subordinate. you had to give it to her, Signora is good at getting things she really wants, apparently you were one of those things as she promptly moved you right ‘where you belong’—to her side, of course.

you didn't used to mind things that way until you began to notice that Pantalone loitered around her more and more, and you know he didn't used to do that because you caught him with so much free time before. all of the business coming out of the blue when Signora was in such a stagnant point in her work was suspicious to you. you wrote it off with his explanation of a reworking of the finances in her sector taking longer than expected. to someone who had very little involvement in her finances, it made a lot of sense. 

yes, somewhere between then and now, you tripped and fell into this neat little hole they made for you, a honey trap even. you're not sure when or how, all of that time has always been…a little fuzzier than you'd like.

when you looked in the mirror then, you saw your face looking back at you. now you see some lost little child who barely knows how to keep their head straight. for just a moment, in a rare hour on a lonely morning, you stare into that mirror and begin to see cracks of yourself shining through. have you always looked so tired? when did you get your hair to look like that? this person is still not you, but it sure does look a lot like you, a worn down version of you covered in a thick coat of idealisation to mask your weathering and slow spiral further and further into something you cannot identify.

in the very same morning you wonder if maybe you are still there to stare back at yourself in the mirror, that same pill lands in front of you with a cup of water. you recognise Pantalone’s hands, and you know that he can tell from the way you look at him and question his words that you're coming out of your haze. in response, he has to put you right back in. he claims he’s never going to force you, though you suspect that to be a lie. this life of luxury he provides you and the affection Signora gives to you will all go away if you don't take it, and in all aspects that's a good thing.

why exactly do you keep picking up that cup of water and downing that pill?

[rozieramati]

2/28/24

i haven't sat down to really reflect in a while. by a while i mean a week. by a week i mean, it's not that i haven't been reflecting at all, it's just that i haven't written down much to show for it. i'm at the coffee shop. skies are blue and clouds are white. the banana bread isn't too great today. it's a hit or miss here. i like the rings the coffee leaves behind on the inside of my cup. with each sip it ages like a tree. like that giving tree book. each sip giving me sustenance while the rings lay flat on it's porcelain insides. the coffee winds down my gummy pipes and rests in my chronically irritated bowel. i think about insides too much. someone's judging me. i can feel it.

i don't know if i'm cut out for this music stuff. maybe that's a lie. i don't know if i'm cut out for the life i'm currently living. that's more like it. the life i'm currently living has nothing to do with the music stuff, if i'm being honest. i'm just alone all the time. i live around people but not with people. in my room i talk to the people i have meetings with, then they end, and i'm silent. which i don't mind. i love not having to speak. i just wish i had someone there that didn't mind the silence alongside me.

there's a girl around my age sitting right across from me. long dirty blonde hair with a part straight down the middle. we both have our airpods in. we're both alone. maybe that makes us together. she could be a member of the brady bunch family. i used to be so obsessed with that show as a kid. i don't remember much of it, except for how it made me feel. it made me feel like my family did things wrong, and their family did things right. that my family worries were different than theirs, and in a way of coping, i could watch their family worries and mine would cease to exist.

i keep having the same nightmare. i don't think i'll ever be able to accept it as anything more than a nightmare. my biggest fear is it being a deep rooted memory. why would i keep dreaming it if it never happened? one day i'll make an album about it. i tried once but i had to stop. when i'm older, and safer, i'll try again.

i'm in a weakend state. maybe it's the sun-saturn-mercury cazimi. i think i'm realizing the current state i'm living in, the one i've been living in for my entire life, has become too much for me to bear. i realized this on a random wednesday in a nearby coffee shop. and so it goes.

my ribs are rattling for change. i've been patient, and stubborn. i won't leave my circumstances until an opportunity to escape them is insurmountably better. i'd rather live in a familiar place and suffer mentally than the opposite. strange i know. i think i just assume all other leaps of faith will end in ruin, so i only take those leaps in situations i know can't hurt me. i'm a shell of a human being. i'm a fawn with buckled knees until it serves me purpose not to be. the only purpose in my life is music, so i only take chances when it comes to that. even in love. especially in love. i'm a romantic to the people that care, and aromantic to the people that are too afraid to care. i don't blame them for being afraid though. i am too.

[minty364]

Danny fiddled with his tie as he waited in the hotel room they were staying at. Vlad had invited his parents to a gala and he had no choice but to tag along. His parents didn’t trust him, thinking him a delinquent since the past year his grades had tanked thanks to the ghosts that plagued his town. His sister was busy this summer touring different colleges and his friends had plans to visit their own soulmates so they were out of town. He was definitely not looking forward to the gala, he kind of figured he could hang around the dessert table and people watch. He at least his soulmate was having a better time than him, he was excited about whatever he was doing.

Danny had mixed feelings about finding his soulmate, both his friends found theirs and they seemed really happy, but since Danny didn’t even know how exactly halfas aged he felt nervous about pursuing a relationship. Vlad was already an adult when he had his accident so there wasn’t much for Danny to go on. The thought scared him a little and as he found himself staring into his reflection he sighed deeply. “Might as well get the night over with, right?” He mumbled to himself before sticking his room key into his pocket and headed out the door. 

The elevator ride was a little boring but the grand hall the gala was taking place in was rather grand. Everything from the tables to the chairs, the chandeliers, and even the plates. He glanced around the room to find his parents were already mingling with some of the elite of Gotham. He knew how embarrassing they were so he walked the long way around the room to the buffet and filled a small plate to munch on as he moved to a corner of the room. He ate in silence taking in the air of the room, no one bothered him. Vlad might have but he had mentioned a few things before they headed down that he was looking into new investors into a new venture.

Whatever that meant, probably wasn’t good for Danny but he had other things to worry about as just as he put a grape into his mouth it happened. His parents had mentioned what happened when you meet your soulmate as they were and the same thing happened to them. You’ll know as soon they walk into the same room as the feelings you feel from them grow ten fold. Then as soon as your eyes meet you feel a spark. Danny’s soulmate just walked into the room and the excitement grew. His soulmate was very excited to meet him and Danny felt himself begin to panic a little. 

The next thing his soulmate was feeling was confusion probably due to his anxiety. His thoughts began to race a little as he glanced around the room, most of the people attending the gala were older and he assumed he wouldn’t be meeting them at an event like this. Danny could feel his hands grow a little clammy as he scanned the room. He didn’t see anyone that could have been his soulmate but the feelings of slight confusion and excitement were almost overwhelming him. 

After he discarded his plate he moved towards the bathroom. Unfortunately his feet choose then to fail him, tripping himself he found himself falling to the ground when someone catches him. He glances up at their green eyes and it happens. The person in front of him was his soulmate and Danny was feeling overwhelmed with that fact, to put into words Danny thought they were gorgeous. Neat black hair, stunning emerald green eyes, his soulmate was perfect and Danny felt a little guilty for not wanting to at least meet.

Now if only he could find the right words to say, “I think I fell for you.” The word’s tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them. 

Without hesitation his soulmate responded, “I will always be there to catch you my light.”

Master Post:

Next:

DPXDC Prompt #148

Danny didn’t want to go to the gala but since all of his friends were busy with their own soulmates there wasn’t much he could argue. Vlad invited his family and him to a gala out in Gotham and his parents jumped at the opportunity to show their madness with some of the elite. Danny couldn’t wait to get home, yes he knew he had a soulmate but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pursue them or not.

They could feel each other’s emotions and his soulmate was an angry person. Danny’s whole life his soulmate acted mad and strangely prideful. But those didn’t compare to his fear, they seemed to have gotten themselves in trouble in the past and maybe even had a few close encounters with death. They also seemed to bottle feelings up from what he could tell his soulmate might not have had the best childhood but Danny couldn’t really say much on that.

Damian knew his soulmate was kind of soft. They seemed to get annoyed at his family typical for a teen. Of all the things he noted about him his dislike of Christmas was a little odd but not everyone has to like the holidays he supposed. His mother Talia imparted on him that he should protect his soulmate with his life when he finds him so he was very determined to find them. Of course galas we’re the best place to look so he desperately asked every time his father hosted one.

[iknicinterior123]

How to Design a Fun and Functional Kids Room Expert Tips

Designing a kids room is more than just choosing a bed and some toys. It’s about creating an environment that encourages creativity, learning, and play. A well-designed kids room interior not only reflects your child’s personality but also adapts to their evolving needs as they grow. Whether you have a little artist or an aspiring scientist, the right decor can inspire them daily. Imagine vibrant colors dancing on the walls and cozy corners for snuggling up with books. Picture interactive spaces where imagination runs wild. This isn’t just about aesthetics; it’s about functionality too! From effective storage solutions to safety features, every element plays a role in crafting the perfect sanctuary for your child. Let’s dive into expert tips on how to create a fun and functional kids room that will thrill both you and your little ones!

The Importance of a Well-Designed Kids Room

A well-designed kids room serves as a foundation for growth and development. It’s more than just a place to sleep; it’s where imagination flourishes. When children have a space tailored to their interests, they feel valued and inspired. Functionality is equally crucial. A thoughtful layout promotes independence, allowing kids to easily access toys or study materials while creating zones that encourage both play and rest. Moreover, an attractive environment can influence mood and behavior. kids room interior design, Bright colors and engaging decor stimulate creativity, fostering a love for learning from an early age. Not forgetting the social aspect, this space becomes a hub for friends—where laughter echoes during playdates or homework sessions. A well-crafted kids room nurtures not just individual growth but also relationships with peers.

Understanding Your Child’s Needs and Interests

Designing a kids room starts with understanding your child. Each child is unique, and their space should reflect that individuality. Talk to them about their favorite activities. Do they love art? Consider an area dedicated to creativity with supplies easily accessible. If they’re into sports, think of incorporating elements like wall decals or storage for equipment. Age plays a crucial role too. A toddler’s needs differ vastly from those of a teenager. Ensure the design evolves as they grow. Observe what excites them most when playing or learning. top 5 kids room interior design, This insight can guide choices in decor and functionality, making the space truly theirs. Also, don’t forget their personality traits—are they introverted or extroverted? Their comfort level will impact how you arrange spaces for social interaction versus quiet time.

Choosing the Right Color Scheme and Theme

Choosing the right color scheme and theme for a kids room is essential in setting the mood. Bright, vibrant colors can stimulate creativity and playfulness. Soft pastels, on the other hand, create a calming environment perfect for winding down. Consider your child’s preferences when selecting colors. Do they gravitate toward bold hues or gentle shades? Involve them in the decision-making process to make it more personal. Themes can range from animals and space to princesses or superheroes. A well-defined theme adds character to the room while making it feel cohesive. Remember that trends change quickly; top 10 kids room interior design, opt for elements that are both fun and timeless. This way, you won’t need a complete overhaul as their interests evolve over time. Accent walls with wallpaper designs related to their favorite cartoons or hobbies can add depth without overwhelming the space. Look for kids room wall decor that complements your chosen palette and theme seamlessly.

Creating Zones for Play Study and Sleep

Creating distinct zones within a kids room is vital for fostering an environment that promotes both fun and learning. Start by clearly defining areas for play, study, and sleep. This separation helps children understand when it’s time to focus or unwind. For the play zone, consider colorful rugs or soft mats that invite creativity. best kids room interior design kolkata, Use open shelving to display toys while keeping them easily accessible yet organized. The study area should be equipped with a sturdy desk and comfortable chair. Good lighting is essential here—think bright lamps or natural light from windows—to inspire concentration. Design the sleeping zone as a cozy retreat with calming colors and plush bedding. Consider using curtains or decorative screens to create privacy when needed. By thoughtfully arranging these zones, you’ll cultivate an engaging space where your child can thrive in all aspects of their daily life.

Storage Solutions to Keep the Room Organized

Keeping a kids room organized can feel like an uphill battle. However, smart storage solutions make it easier. Consider multifunctional furniture. Beds with built-in drawers or benches that double as toy boxes are fantastic options. They provide ample space while maintaining a clean look. Wall-mounted shelves are another great idea. These not only maximize floor space but also display books and toys creatively. kids room interior design for boys, Encourage your child to use bins for sorting smaller items by category—like art supplies or building blocks. Don’t forget about under-bed storage! Rolling containers fit perfectly beneath beds, capturing forgotten treasures out of sight yet easily accessible when needed. Labeling is key too. Clear labels help children know where everything belongs, making cleanup more enjoyable and less stressful. Incorporating these elements will transform clutter into a well-organized sanctuary that promotes creativity and playfulness in their environment.

Incorporating Fun and Creative Elements

Incorporating fun and creative elements in a kids room can spark imagination and joy. Think about playful wall decals that come alive with vibrant colors. These add personality without overwhelming the space. Consider interactive features like chalkboard paint on one wall. This gives your child a canvas to express themselves while keeping creativity flowing. Don’t forget about whimsical furniture! A bed shaped like a car or a desk resembling an art easel makes daily routines more enjoyable. Use unique decor items, such as themed cushions or quirky lamps, to enhance the atmosphere. best kids room design, They not only serve practical purposes but also contribute character to the room. Create an art corner stocked with supplies where kids can unleash their artistic side. This encourages exploration and self-expression in their very own haven.

Safety Considerations for a Kids Room

When designing a kids room, safety should be your top priority. Start by selecting non-toxic paints and materials. Children are curious and often prone to accidents, so keeping harmful substances out of reach is crucial. Secure heavy furniture like bookshelves or dressers to the wall to prevent tipping. Soft corner guards can help protect little ones from sharp edges on tables and desks. Consider the flooring too. Use rugs with non-slip backing to reduce slipping risks. Opt for soft surfaces where they play, kids room false ceiling, as this minimizes injury during falls. Always choose age-appropriate toys that don’t have small parts which could pose choking hazards. Regularly inspect these items for wear and tear. Ensure there’s ample natural light in the room but also install blackout curtains for naptime without compromising safety around windows or blinds.

Budget-Friendly Ideas for Designing a Kids Room

Designing a kids room on a budget doesn’t mean sacrificing style or functionality. Start by exploring thrift stores and online marketplaces for second-hand furniture. A fresh coat of paint can transform outdated pieces into something special. DIY projects are also great for saving money while adding personal touches. Consider creating custom wall art or repurposing old crates as storage solutions. These small changes can make a big impact without breaking the bank. Look for affordable wallpaper designs that add character to the space .kids room wallpaper design, Removable wallpapers are easy to apply and change, making them perfect for growing children who may want different themes over time. Incorporating multi-functional furniture helps maximize space efficiency too. For example, beds with built-in drawers provide extra storage while keeping toys out of sight. Simple updates like these create an inviting environment that reflects your child’s personality and interests without overspending.

Tips for Keeping the Room Functional as Your Child Grows

As your child grows, their needs will evolve. Flexibility is key in kids room interior design. Opt for furniture that can adapt, like a convertible crib or a desk that adjusts in height. Think about multi-functional pieces. A bed with storage underneath or a play table that doubles as homework space can save valuable square footage and keep the room organized. Keep decor simple yet easy to update. Use removable wallpaper for quick changes when tastes shift . kids room decor in kolkata, Allow your child to participate in choosing new decor items; it fosters independence and personal expression. Consider durable materials too. Kids are active, so choose finishes that withstand wear and tear while still being stylish. Regularly reassess the layout of the room to ensure it meets their changing interests—whether it’s creating new study zones or expanding play areas as they grow older.

The Importance of a Well-Designed Kids Room

A well-designed kids room serves as a foundation for growth and development. It’s a space where children can explore their creativity and feel safe at the same time. The right environment fosters imagination, allowing kids to engage in play that nurtures their cognitive skills. Comfort is another crucial factor. A thoughtfully arranged room promotes better sleep, kids room decor near me, which is vital for active minds and bodies. An inviting bedroom encourages routine, making bedtime an easier transition. Moreover, organization plays a key role in reducing stress for both parents and kids. Design elements that incorporate storage solutions keep clutter at bay while teaching children responsibility over their belongings. Personalization adds magic to the space. When children see their interests reflected in decor or themes, they develop a sense of ownership over their sanctuary—making it truly theirs.

Considerations Before Designing a Kids Room

Designing a kids room requires thoughtful planning. Start by understanding your child’s personality and interests. This helps create a space that feels uniquely theirs. Consider the age of your child, as it influences functionality. A toddler’s needs differ greatly from those of a pre-teen or teenager. Flexibility is key; choose adaptable furniture that grows with them. Safety is paramount in any kids room decor items, Ensure furniture has rounded edges, and avoid small items that could pose choking hazards for younger children. Think about light sources too. Natural sunlight can uplift the mood while soft lighting creates coziness at night. Involve your child in the decision-making process where possible. Their input not only fosters creativity but also builds excitement for their new space.

Choosing the Right Theme for Your Child’s Room

Picking a theme for your child’s room can be an exciting adventure. It sets the tone and reflects their personality. Start by chatting with your child about their interests. Are they into superheroes, animals, or outer space? Colors play a huge role in theme selection too. Bright hues often evoke energy and creativity while softer tones create calmness. Balance is key. Consider incorporating elements that grow with them. A classic storybook motif can transition easily as tastes change over time. kids room wall decor, Wall art, bedding, and accessories are great ways to express the chosen theme without committing fully to paint or wallpaper designs. Remember that flexibility is important; themes can evolve as children do! Don’t forget practical aspects like lighting and furniture style that align with the overall design vision you have in mind for their space.

Tips for Maximizing Space and Storage in a Kids Room

Maximizing space in a kids room can be a fun challenge. Start by thinking vertical; wall-mounted shelves are perfect for displaying books and toys without taking up floor space. Consider multi-functional furniture, such as beds with drawers underneath or benches that open for storage. kids room wallpaper design in kolkata, This strategy keeps belongings organized while minimizing clutter. Use labelled bins and baskets to teach your child about the organization from an early age. Colourful containers make tidying up more appealing. Don’t forget the corners! Corner shelves can utilize overlooked spaces, turning them into handy storage spots. Rotating toys seasonally not only saves space but also keeps playtime fresh and exciting. A few thoughtful changes can transform any room into a functional haven for creativity and play.

Incorporating Fun and Interactive Elements in the Room Design

Incorporating fun and interactive elements can transform your child’s room into a vibrant play space. Think about adding a chalkboard wall or removable wallpaper that invites creativity. Interactive features like a climbing wall or cozy reading nook spark adventure and imagination. Consider using modular furniture that allows for rearranging, keeping the space fresh and engaging. A playful rug can also serve as both decor and an activity area, encouraging games or storytelling. Lighting plays a crucial role too;kids room decor near me, fairy lights or star projectors can create an enchanting atmosphere. Don’t forget to involve your child in the design process! Their input will ensure the room reflects their personality, making it even more special. Add personal touches with framed artwork they created; this fosters pride while enhancing visual appeal.

Creating a Safe and Comfortable Sleeping Area for Kids

Creating a safe sleeping area is vital for your child’s well-being. Start with the right bed frame—opt for one that’s sturdy and low to the ground, making it easy for little ones to get in and out. Bedding should be breathable and soft, ensuring comfort throughout the night. Consider using hypoallergenic materials to protect sensitive skin. Nightlights can provide reassurance during dark hours without being too harsh on their eyes. kids room decor in kolkata, Choose warm light options that create a calming atmosphere. Secure furniture items like bookshelves or dressers to prevent tipping accidents. This small step makes a big difference in maintaining safety Involve your child in choosing their bedding or décor elements—they’ll feel more connected to their space when they have a say!

Projects to Personalize the Room and Save Money

Personalizing a kids room doesn’t have to break the bank. Simple DIY projects can add character and charm while saving money. Consider painting an accent wall in your child’s favorite color or creating a mural that sparks their imagination. A little creativity goes a long way! Repurposing old furniture is another excellent option. Sanding down a desk or dresser and giving it a fresh coat of paint can make it feel brand new. Involving your child in the process makes it even more special. Let them help design custom artwork or craft photo collages that reflect their interests. Using removable wallpaper for temporary designs is also popular, especially with trendy kids room decor items, options available today. With these fun projects, you’ll create a space that’s uniquely theirs without overspending on decor items.

Maintenance and Organization Tips for a Functional Kids Room

A well-organized kids room can make a world of difference in daily routines. Start by establishing designated zones for play, study, and rest. This keeps everything purposeful and easy to find. Incorporate storage solutions like bins or baskets that encourage children to tidy up after activities. Labeling these containers can help them understand where things belong, fostering independence. Make use of vertical space with shelves or wall-mounted organizers. kids room wall decor, It not only maximizes floor area but also showcases toys or books as decorative elements. Regularly declutter the space together with your child. Set aside time monthly to sort through forgotten toys and clothes. Teach them the value of donating items they no longer use; it builds empathy while keeping their environment fresh. Create a simple cleaning checklist that they can follow each week. Routine maintenance instills responsibility and ensures their sanctuary remains functional and enjoyable.

Why a Well-Designed Kids Room is Important

A well-designed kids room serves as more than just a sleeping area; it’s a sanctuary for exploration and creativity. Children thrive in spaces that reflect their personalities and interests, encouraging them to express themselves freely. Functional layouts promote independence. When everything is within reach, kids learn responsibility while navigating their own environments. This fosters confidence and self-sufficiency. Moreover, an organized space contributes to mental clarity. kids room wallpaper design in kolkata, A clutter-free room helps reduce distractions, allowing children to focus on play or study without feeling overwhelmed. A thoughtfully designed room can also adapt to changing needs over time. As your child grows, so do their hobbies and preferences—flexible furniture arrangements make this transition seamless. The right design promotes emotional well-being. Surrounding children with colors, textures, and themes they love creates a comforting atmosphere where they feel secure and inspired every day.

Understanding Your Child’s Needs and Interests

Every child is unique, and their room should reflect their personality. Understanding your child’s needs and interests is the first step in creating a space where they feel comfortable and happy. Start by observing what captivates them. Are they drawn to dinosaurs, fairies, children’s room wallpaper designs near me, or perhaps outer space? These themes can guide your design choices. It’s also essential to involve them in the process. Ask for their input on colors or decorations; this makes them feel valued and invested in their own space. Consider functionality as well—does your child prefer quiet reading corners or areas for active play? Tailoring the design to suit both interests helps create a harmonious environment that fosters creativity and relaxation. Listening to your child’s preferences will make all the difference when crafting a personalized sanctuary just for them.

Utilizing Color and Themes

Color plays a crucial role in shaping your child’s room. It influences mood and sparks creativity. Choose hues that resonate with your child’s personality or interests. Think about themes that ignite their imagination. Whether it’s outer space, underwater adventures, kids room bed design in kolkata, or favorite animals, these motifs can make the room feel special. You might find delightful kids room wallpaper design in Kolkata featuring vibrant patterns to enhance this concept. Incorporate accent colors through accessories like cushions and rugs. This approach allows for easy updates as interests evolve over time without redecorating entirely. Consider the psychology behind colors too; soft pastels can create a calming environment while vibrant shades energize playtime spaces. Layering different tones can also add depth and character. Remember to balance playful elements with areas of calm for restfulness amidst all the fun!

Creative Storage Solutions

Creative storage solutions are essential in any kids’ room. Kids have a lot of stuff—toys, books, art supplies—and keeping it organized can be a challenge. Consider utilizing vertical space with shelves that stretch towards the ceiling. This not only saves floor space but also allows children to showcase their favorite items up high. Use colorful bins or baskets on these shelves for easy access and fun organization. Another clever idea is multi-functional furniture. best kids room ideas, Look for beds with built-in drawers underneath or ottomans that open up for hidden storage. These pieces blend seamlessly into the design while offering much-needed space-saving options. Wall-mounted pegboards can also serve as both decorative elements and practical storage hubs. They hold everything from artwork to craft supplies, encouraging creativity while keeping clutter at bay. With a little imagination, you can transform everyday items into functional decor that makes tidying up feel less like a chore.

Designing for Growth and Adaptability

Designing a kids’ room requires foresight. Children change rapidly, and their spaces should reflect that. Opt for furniture with adjustable features. A bed that transforms from a crib to a toddler bed can save money and space in the long run. Desks that grow with your child also offer lasting value. Think about modular shelving units too. These can be reconfigured as interests evolve or when new toys come into play. Choosing neutral wall colors allows you to easily switch up accessories like curtains, bedding, kids room in south east, or artwork without needing an entire overhaul. Incorporate elements they can personalize over time—like corkboards for displaying art or photos of friends. This approach not only respects their current needs but also anticipates future changes, making it both functional and fun.

Incorporating Playful Elements

Playful elements are the heartbeat of a vibrant kids’ room. Think beyond traditional decor and embrace creativity. Wall decals, fun shapes, and interactive designs can transform a plain space into an adventure zone. Consider incorporating themed furnishings like beds shaped like cars or tents that spark imagination. These unique pieces not only excite your child but also encourage imaginative play. Add playful accessories such as colorful rugs or bean bags to create cozy corners for reading or relaxing. kids room in north east, A chalkboard wall can serve dual purposes: an art canvas and a homework station, keeping the atmosphere dynamic. Lighting is another area to experiment with whimsy. Choose fixtures shaped like animals or stars to add character while ensuring adequate brightness for activities. Remember, the goal is to inspire joy and exploration in every corner of the room without overwhelming space with clutter.

Tips from Interior Design Experts

When it comes to designing a kids room, expert advice can make all the difference. Interior designers emphasize the importance of balance between aesthetics and functionality. They recommend starting with a neutral base for walls, then adding colorful accents through furniture or accessories. This approach allows for easy updates as your child’s tastes change. Experts also highlight the value of incorporating personalized touches. Artwork created by your child or favorite toys displayed prominently can foster creativity and ownership of their space. Don’t shy away from integrating playful elements like themed bedding or fun wallpaper designs that reflect current interests. Consider seeking out local resources such as kids room wallpaper design in Kolkata or searching for “best kids room ideas” tailored to specific regions like south east and north east India. This can ensure you find options that resonate well with both parents and children alike while supporting local artisans. Remember that growth is part of childhood; choose flexible furniture pieces that adapt as they do—whether it’s a modular bed design or adjustable shelving units. By following these tips from seasoned professionals, you’ll craft an engaging environment where your child can thrive creatively and comfortably!

Conclusion

Designing a kids room is both an exciting and rewarding endeavor. By focusing on your child’s needs and interests, you can create a space that reflects their personality while also serving functional purposes. Remember to choose colors and themes that inspire creativity yet provide comfort. Creating distinct zones for play, study, and sleep will optimize the use of space, making it more enjoyable for your little ones. Incorporating smart storage solutions will help keep things organized amidst the inevitable clutter. Fun decor elements can make all the difference in transforming a simple room into an inspiring haven. Safety should always be at the forefront of your design choices — ensuring furniture is secure and materials are kid-friendly goes a long way. You don’t have to break the bank; there are plenty of budget-friendly ideas to explore that still yield stunning results. As children grow, flexibility in design becomes crucial. Choosing timeless pieces allows you to adapt their space as they change without needing complete overhauls frequently. With thoughtful planning and creativity, creating the perfect kids room interior design becomes achievable! Whether it’s through playful wallpaper designs or innovative storage systems, each element contributes to crafting a nurturing environment where childhood memories flourish.

For more info : ikonicinterior

Email US:ikonicinterior2016@gmail.com Visit Us: www.ikonicinterior.com contact us: 8697956833

[thetrexartist]

OLD POST

The twelth doctor!! In my little au of sorts- Now, despite the rainbow on the spines, they are way more duller and less seen. I just needed to visualize it/where the spots are.

Eyebrows is definitely the biggest thus far! (At least at the moment). If I may say his design fought me tooth and fucking nail but I love it so much. The spines are more firm and leathery on the back, the tips more stiff. But the tail spines are hard and only a bit pokey. When in any type of display, they clink together. It sounds a bit like the amethyst sound from minecraft, but only a little bit.

On that note, a little more of the au!

Timelords call this form "their reflection" in normal talk they can say reflection or their reflection, but when talking about theirs, they say it from the chest.

Another thing I'd love to talk about are parents. Everything is mostly canon. I just wanted to mention how timelords can be exactly like humans in this regard to parenting. But once they hit 8 straight to the academy. Although some will spare their children from going.

It doesn't matter the age timelords will wrap their tails around their children's sides in a certain...figure eight?

Bit of insight^

The position is supposed to provide support from both parents (or more than one parent). They use their tails to hold children kinda like rocking a basset? But when their old enough for the tails to be more formed its purely piggyback rides. The cloaks/clothing has more support for the baby's and their gripping. Higher collars also blocked out the babies view. Timelords liked keeping baby's on their back/tails so their front is open for everyday use, and they needed to attack.

Time lords necks are....one of the sensitive areas. That's another reason for a high collar.

Now timelords are monogamous per say- they could have one "partner" for a show of power or class. But as a whole, all timelords are connected in one way or another. Partners are closer and truly feel each other, atom by atom. Now I need to say this- they do not have genitals in their reflection forms. Nothing is shown. And in their more humanoid forms, they do its just a bit different - they both parts are all I'll say.

Most (all) children are loomed, and now my take on looms are lower class folk do loom their children on looms akin to what we have on earth. While more high class loom on more higher tech. They loom in their reflection form (hence them having no parts), but in their humanoid form, they can procreat. But it's highly frowned upon... example is the doctors 13 children. That's still cannon. (Patience and the doctor love making children - and raising them the way they did. Unfortunately, when the high council found out, their children were executed. Susan was the only one to survive because of the doctor swooping in. Later on, the preasure was high enough that the doctor ran, that among other things).

That's it for now. I love working on this au lol.

[introvertedghostboy]

This is gonna be kinda long, I apologize; I just needed some place to spew this out and just get my thoughts out of my system a bit and reflect more

My therapist and I have been working a lot on my CPTSD in relation to my abusive ex girlfriend. It’s been 5 years since I left that relationship; however; it’s been a month since I have interacted with her. She had shown up at my house and had a mental breakdown. I had just gotten home from hanging out with my friends that weekend and was packing for a short trip to PA when she showed up. My parents were thankfully not home but my friend Cammie was with me, she came outside and saw I was hugging J as she was crying inconsolably. She ended up driving us to the ED and I stayed with J until they took her back for an evaluation.As much as I was fighting with my body that was in fight-flight-or-freeze mode, my biggest concern was J. And I’ve had to pick that apart a lot more lately.

J and I were together 3 years. I really did love her. I saw her as the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. We had faced a lot as a couple; we had a 14 year age gap & we both had the same mindset of “It’s our relationship not theirs”. We both were aware of the reality that not everyone has that mindset.We supported each other through telling our loved ones and knowing there might be tension,awkwardness,etc. and how to approach it. I moved in with her after graduating high school which was an adjustment as she had lived on her own for quite some time. The good thing was that we both were really looking for that kind of commitment. And It was, at the time, a good arrangement as J only lives about 5 minutes from my house and it meant I could still be present in my younger sister’s life as we had both grown up in a hostile environment with our parents. I supported J as she was in her MSN program and she supported me as I started Nursing School. We’d work on house projects together, she’d show me how to work on her trucks and motorcycles which was freaking awesome; I became very close with her friends and family; as she did with my family (again the ones who supported us), we had adopted a dog together and things just felt right.

However, As time went on, J became abusive. She’d throw things at me, hit me, choke me and verbally attack me. She used to track me with a phone app and if I was late by even a few minutes from work she would berate me,slap me, and give me silent treatments. She had access to my bank accounts, my social media and electronics. I’m fine with people having access to my phone, I don’t hide shit but if a female friend liked my photo it was seen as flirting and she’d physically attack me. She began to isolate me from my friends and I could only hang out with her friends. About midway through our relationship I had my top surgery and it allowed me to feel more confident in myself and was at first a boost in our sex life. I take things pretty slow and would say I’m not a very sexual person really like yeah I’ve engaged in it but I’m more of a cuddle and be near you type of person; kissing, hugs and cuddles are more my thing; but when it comes to sex I’m more dominant; it’s just my preference for that type of intimacy but she’d force me into being submissive and to have sex in a way I don’t really want which lead to even more difficulties in that area of our relationship.

Our relationship was toxic in many ways but again, I truly did love J and thought it was a rough patch for us; we’d make it through somehow.The physical,verbal,emotional and sexual abuse continued however there were times it happened less. Maybe things were starting to change. One of my classes was cancelled the one day and I figured I’d stop by the food store and make us something for dinner. We could watch a movie and maybe have a chill night in as she was off the next 2 days from work. I picked up her favorite flowers and everything I needed to make dinner. I walked in and it didn’t take long to know she wasn’t home alone. I walked up to our bedroom and found her in bed with a guy. I walked back downstairs and sat on the couch quietly. I didn’t really process it right away and I just felt defeated. She came down to the kitchen, saw me sitting there and I just looked at her with tears in my eyes. She told the guy to get out and she sat across from me. After a little while of just staring blankly at the floor and her sitting there with her arms folded looking irritated; she told me that it wasn’t the first time he was here and that he was more of a man than I’ll ever be. I ended up leaving and staying at a friends house for a few nights. My friend drove me back to the house a few days later and helped me pack my things in my truck. J pulled in the driveway as she had been out food shopping and saw I was packing. She looked at me and said “You worthless piece of shit. After everything we’ve been through over the years. No one will ever love you. You should do the world a favor, kill yourself.” -April 2019.

My therapist asked me “Why did you help her?” And I said “Because I’m always the person who truly means it when I say to anyone “If you ever need me, I’m here. Don’t hesitate to call me,text me; tell me to come get you or meet you somewhere. I will, because I understand what’s it’s like to feel alone, to feel yourself breaking but not be able to let the mask down. And I’ll sit with you through it. How can I best support this person is my mindset and is what I will do for almost anyone in my life.”

As of now, I’m still processing a lot from that incident itself and also struggling more with flashbacks,nightmares and detachment from a lot of people. This year has been the first year that I’ve tried being more social; I even started venturing back into the dating world within the past year and it’s been really vital for me to really dig deep into the trauma i endured in my last relationship in order to move forward. You can’t heal if you act like you’re not hurt. I’ve met a few people who I’ve really liked but it’s been challenging to navigate since I’ve had to constantly remind myself “They aren’t J”. It’s like I said to my therapist: the combination of being autistic,traumatized, dysphoric, and on the asexual spectrum (I’m demisexual) just gangs up and makes me feel like a burden. And to also be dealing with chronic illnesses that are impacting me physically has made me feel useless and not worthy of love. One of the quotes I told my therapist recently was “I was scared to let people close for two reasons. One being the damage they could see and the other being the damage they could cause” and that is something I’m trying so hard to address.

[warriorcatsamino]

As a young cat, my love had been rambunctious, for lack of a better word. I wish I’d met him back when he was like that, but now all I’ve got are stories, mere whispers of his youth. I miss the cat I’ve never met, sometimes. By the time he brought me back to his Clan, we were already both the same: holding tight to our secrets, giving them only to each other.

Even so, there is no shortage of stories, especially now.

“When he was Mistpaw’s age, Cedarstep talked about this big structure, made of a solid material that reflected his eyes like water from a pond. There were herbs and plants inside, but he never told anyone how to get there; I can never know where he went. My son keeps his secret to the stars.”

I watch his mother step gradually down from the High Rock, aided by his brothers and sisters, her voice and body both trembling. His daughter Mistpaw shuts her hollow eyes, never looking at anyone or anything.

It’s hard to hear anyone speaking, so I focus on his mother’s last words. I know that place, of course I know that place.

His siblings rise and fall from the High Rock, giving him their final goodbyes and sending after him their best stories, all from the time before I knew him. Even Mistpaw goes, telling of how Cedarstep begged Sparrowstar to let him, the deputy, mentor her, to no avail. “Something about bias, I guess,” she finishes abruptly, and the Clan lowers their heads in humorless laughter.

“Flicker,” I hear his mother call to me tenderly, unwilling to respond. “Would you like to go last?” I glance up and back down. “I don’t know about that. I’m sorry.”

“Mom,” Mistpaw nudges me. “You should go.”

The camp is breathless as I mount the High Rock and sit down, staring down at the body of my love, covered in herbs and flowers, too, as I had asked. After I tear my eyes away, I am careful to never break my eyes from looking at Cedarstep’s mother.

“When Cedarstep brought me here, it had been a long time since I’d known family. I had only just begun to trust him, but he was gentle with me. When he asked me to abandon life as a rogue, to come and learn his ways and live with his Clan, I couldn’t refuse. I have yet to ever regret that decision, even at my worst times. Even at this time.

“I met Cedarstep at that place, that large structure with the water-like walls. I had known of it before and returned to see the flowers once more. On that day, Cedarstep discovered that place, and we discovered one another.”

My words echo, and while I’m still taking in breath and crafting what next to say, his mother steps forward. “Will you take me?” She demands. I blink. “To the…”

“To that place you speak of. I need to go and see.” The crowd murmurs assent. Only his daughter Mistpaw glances around knowingly, her eyes narrowed. “How far is this place? If my mom knew of it as a rogue, it could be very far.”

“Why, my son went as well! It can’t be that far, can it, Flicker?” Her voice remains strong and determined, even as I try to nod along with Mistpaw’s ill-fated aid. “It is still a long time. I don’t know if it would be good for you to make such a journey,” I tell her, placating, but she shakes her head. “Anything for my son.”

Mistpaw’s eyes, hopping from one subject to the next like honeybees, finally land on me. She affirms with her gaze: There’s no other choice.

And so the next day I take Cedarstep’s mother, and his brother, and his sister, and Mistpaw, all to the greenhouse. I haven’t told them what it is or what it’s called, and I don’t have the bandwidth to feel remorse about it.

Mine, mine, mine, my heart says. In my mind, it echoes, this was supposed to be our secret. Why did I tell them about it? Why couldn’t I have kept it? It was ours, and now it’s theirs.

They think it’s theirs, at least.

“Here,” I announce as we arrive. “Just over the ridge.” I had been hanging my head, lagging behind so much the rest of my party were practically leading themselves, turning only at my command. What I hear first is the stunned gasp of Cedarstep’s mother. “Beautiful, yes?” I say to the ground below, meaning it fully but unable to force any enthusiasm.

“Oh, look!” I hear Cedarstep’s sister, her voice drooping in disappointment. “What a shame,” her brother replies. Mistpaw stops where she stands.

I lift my eyes and see them— the ruins.

Cedarstep’s mother turns her gaze away, and her children rush to comfort her: “it’s okay, Mama,” and “he knows you came to visit,” and “we did our best.” Mistpaw goes to them, ushering them back to camp. When I see it, the greenhouse knocked to pieces, small shards of the reflecting walls strewn through the grass, I nearly smile. When I see it emptied of plants, surrounded by twolegs clearing it out and shouting to each other, I barely manage to keep a solemn silence.

It simply feels as though Cedarstep was here, keeping our secret. The greenhouse in its glory is ours to keep, locked in memory. “Thank you, my love,” I murmur to him, squinting against the glint of the sun on the shining surfaces. “I’m sorry I made you do all this to keep the secret from them.” I drop down, sitting, watching the greenhouse disappear before my eyes. I have hardly made myself comfortable on the grass when I hear Cedarstep’s mother call, “are you coming back with us, Flicker?”

They’d already walked back into the forest, far from me. Mistpaw was still sticking close to me, though she continued to wave them on back home. “No, I’ll go with Mistpaw.”

My daughter comes to sit with me, leaning against my side. “Dad’s here,” she tells me, the perfect words, and I close my eyes in peace, even amongst the shouts and the loud bangs from the twoleg’s work. That was Cedarstep, always the calmness in the chaos. “Yes,” I reply to her, breathing deeply.

“If Dad is with us, then…” I open my eyes and glance down at Mistpaw, who’s deadly serious. “If we left, for good I mean, he’d go with us then, too.”

I heave a sigh, returning my eyes to the greenhouse. “Knowing your father, he just might. But then if he goes with us, the rest of his family will be left to live without him.”

“So we have to stay- for them?”

“We shouldn’t stretch your father too thin. If we left, he’d want to come back and visit his family from time to time, but he wouldn’t like to leave us either, even if only for a little bit. We have to stay for him.”

“Huh,” Mistpaw huffs out, but I can tell she’s conceding. “What’s so wrong with them anyways?” I ask her, somehow knowing the answer as I do.

“They don’t know him like us. They wouldn’t have wanted to come here if they did.”

“One would think his mother knew him best.”

“Not at all. Dad wouldn’t have wanted to tell her anything, it would be thirty moons of small talk. And why should he have told her about himself? She can’t keep a secret.”

I hum. Cedarstep told me once that if somebody guessed one of his secrets by chance, I ought to lead them off track in order to keep it. But this had been before Mistpaw, our beautiful daughter. There was hardly a need to keep secrets anymore, now that this greenhouse, the oldest one, was gone.

“Yes. I guess you’re right about that.”

this writing piece by siv definitely tugged at my heartstrings. i could feel the heartache that flicker felt at her mate's passing, how important the greenhouse where they first met was to her, and how possessive she feels over letting anyone else from the clan see it. i was hooked from the first paragraph, and i really adore the bond between flicker and mistpaw!

you should go check out the original post and show the author some appreciation!

-frostedskies 🌙

[starrysvn]

this has to be one of the most wonderful, romantic, introspective fics i have ever read. it left me speechless, i can’t quite come up with the words to say how i felt reading it.

it’s so clear the love that they have for each other transcends the fabric of time and place and forever will. the way mc can’t help but fall, totally on their own, for him got my heart melting. it’s not because of phantom memories or feelings, not yet at least, and what it is for that too, this love just explodes. that one “i miss you” hit square in the chest. hwa has them right there and loves them, but also misses what they once were, the person he’s known and longed for and loved for literal ages i wILL SOB-

The openness with which you had welcomed conversation with him, the kind charm that radiated from you as you engaged in the careful verbal waltz reminded the vampire of times long, long ago when all that existed for him was drive, enamourment and art. Oh, how your eyes glimmered. His heart clenched into near unbearable agony as he read your expressions, and wondered how much you have seen, what have you yet to see, who you were in this temporary life. If only he could ask fate to tell him how much you remembered of who you had been before.

LIKE HELLOOO?????? he- HE!!!!

and the ART!! don’t get me started on it, it’s like it’s theirs. their thing, their red string of fate, the thing that both love and breathe and appreciate, shared but also their own. and let’s not talk about impressionism and art and the pieces that you chose and what they mean also to me bc i will start sobbing. and also i shall not speak of the way you wrote about the pieces and incorporated them into the story and how perfectly it was done. i WILL cry.

Warm-toned streetlights liberally decorated the sidewalks and painted the night in honey, gold and copper accents. Reflections of an artificial summer in the puddles and winter chill. Downright magical. Seonghwa seeked out your hand, holding it tight and guiding it into the pocket of his own coat, smirking when you raised an eyebrow.

i shall not speak of this. or else. oR ELSE!!

bai i truly can’t thank you enough. you are art. you do art. whatever shape it takes, i will always marvel at it. i love you so so much, words can’t say it.

Impressionism

(masterlist) (taglist)

🩸 pairing: vampire!gallerist/collector!seonghwa x art historian!gn!reader 🩸 genre: fluff, noir, soulmates, supernatural, strangers(?) to lovers, art nerding 🩸 summary: a post-graduate student specialising in impressionism, you were a regular visitor to the many art galleries in the city. who knew that among the paintings you would encounter your favourite, timeless work of art? 🩸 wordcount: 12.3k 🩸 warnings/tags: questionable editing, mention of blood, fangs, wounds, suggestive, many pet names (love, darling etc), art theory/history ponderings, time skips, mention of rituals, philosophy, hwa is centuries-old, yearning hwa 🩸 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🩸 a/n: happy birthday to @starrysvn!! lheo, ilysm, and i hope you enjoy this little rambling <3 hugs to everyone, all reblogs, notes and comments appreciated! 🩸 playlist: nfwmb - hozier, who is she? - i monster, keep on loving you - cas, la vie en rose - edith piaf, a l'ombre de nous - pierre barouh, les feuilles mortes / sous le ciel de paris - yves montand, moon over bourbon street / until - sting

‘Love and Pain’ - an enigmatic masterpiece that was painted by Edvard Munch, the famous Norwegian artist, in 1895. In vibrant oil paints a dramatic scene interpreted by millions as something more sensual, darker, revealing was immortalised. Perhaps quite literally. You leaned back on one hand, feeling the coolness of the bench located in the middle of the gallery hall, careful to not let the notebook in your hands slip from your lap. ‘Vampire’ - first, it was a label for the woman with the alluring, long red locks that was leaning over her supposed lover, then it turned into a second name for the work. It was comical how Munch himself had initially stated the piece depicted nothing more than a woman kissing the neck of a man, and yet, the tale had told itself. What followed were six versions of this same subject, with a woodcut titled “Vampyr II”, followed by paintings titled ‘Vampire’ and ‘Vampire in the Forest’, and then through common acceptance that this indeed was the ‘submission of a man to the bite of a vampire’, if you were to paraphrase a critic who had been in an astoundingly similar position as you, except without the decades upon decades of other material to refer to. They had been the firstcomers, the initial perceivers to set the tone for society’s consumption of the artwork, the louder of the many voices in the artwork who often had the final say. In some senses, they were your long lost colleagues - they were there to create history, and you were there to study it.

While it was not exactly a part of the movement you had decided to specialise in, you nonetheless would never reject the opportunity to learn more about the stunning world of visual arts, trying to guess how the artist had felt in the moment, what did they see beyond what they presented to the world, how did they translate the heart into brushstrokes. You were taken by all forms of art since you were little - having grown up surrounded by items that were far removed from what you called your air, you were intrigued by anything that was external to your version of ordinary. In your case, it just so happened to be the little private gallery that you had spent almost all of your monthly allowance to visit when you were a school kid - you had been so dedicated, in fact, that the elderly guard who had often also acted as a guide to the visitors had become your first friend in the art world, something of a grandparent figure, and on multiple occasions - when the lack of eyes would allow, simply let you through with a grin and glance out of the entrance doors.

And so here you were, many years later, many hard decisions and conversations behind you, regarding artworks with an unprecedented soulful closeness that you had initially thought was unattainable. Had you believed all those who remained outside of the walls of your personal paradise, you would have been immersed in the same cycle that had been drilled into the majority of your family members, except maybe a handful who you had never met for the exact reason that they had chosen something for themselves. But you regarded your dream as the thorned path - undoubtedly more challenging, not immediately fruitful, but in the long run leading to the heaven of your design. What more could you ask for?

It was enjoyable to be alone with the paintings surrounding you, portals to new realms that any visitor could have the pleasure of exploring. And what was even more inspiring, was that in the eye of every beholder was a different universe, and no matter who one would speak to, their version of the painting would be different, even if just slightly. You huffed, amused. When was the last time you had visited a gallery with anyone else? You could not quite recall - it was likely that you had never seeked company from another because you were more than satisfied with the company of the legendary works that were regarding you from the many walls. It was possible to compose oneself, spend limitless time on every piece, study the details, and drift into one’s own musings when there was no one to ground them. This was when you dared to say you got your best work done. Even though you, of course, conducted research within university and ventured out to galleries, museums, collectors or auctions only within professional bounds, the bulk of the thinking process was carried out in times such as this. When it was just you, your notebook and pen, and a new point of focus. However, this time, you could not say you were fully attentive to the painting that you had decided to focus on, as a certain someone was appearing to share your level of interest in ‘Love and Pain’ too. 

A gentleman who could not be much older or younger than you, at most a couple of years, stood off to the right of the bench, unmoving, gaze fixated on the painting. Dressed in a pinstripe navy suit, light blue dress shirt, lacquered dress shoes and a matching navy tie, he was nothing short of being a moving work of art. Hints of a glimmer from his thin framed, elegant silver spectacles gave the man a scholarly aura, while the slicked back dark hair - evidently a lot longer than the styling would suggest, added notes of business, entrepreneurship, perhaps leadership. Nothing was out of place, not a crease, not an exposed thread in sight. Needless to say, your curiosity had been sparked.

Much like you found joy in exploring creations in the realm of the visual arts, you were fond of crafting stories about the people who were strangers in passing. You could not help it; perhaps this affinity for creative internal ramblings had come as a package with studying the degree you had selected, or perhaps this was a naturally occurring guilty pleasure that you simply had not had the chance to entertain before you cut yourself off from expectations and predetermined patterns of thought. But now, you had the full pleasure of wondering, letting your mind travel to lands far away as you took the real life masterpiece in, and pondered why the man could be here, what he could be thinking as he studied Munch’s work, and what resonated with him, and only him. 

There was a melancholia with the weight of centuries resting upon his shoulders, that much you could decipher in the stranger’s stance. Even then, there was a gentle burning flame within his heart judging by just how dedicated he was to inspecting the artwork. Like he was seeing an old friend for the first time in years, and was attempting to memorise them anew and recognise each change, bit by bit. You suppressed a chuckle, entertaining the possibility of this man finding a kinship with the painting, but chose to set the idea aside for the time being, instead focusing on sketching his emotional landscape. Was the stranger remorseful? Lonely? Perplexed? You could not quite pinpoint the answer, at least not before you noticed the man’s head starting to turn, and soon enough, his eyes were peering into your own.

They were two pools of deep chocolate, an all-consuming shade that, due to the ever so slightly dimmer lights than in the general halls of the gallery, appeared to be approaching a captivating onyx. The gaze that originated from behind the glasses, and glided across the room that was suddenly too small for two struck you, and you could feel heat starting to rise on your face, blush threatening to reveal the effect of the man’s spontaneous act of confidence. Lowering your head, you gave the stranger a sheepish grin, and pretended to make a random note, pen erratically scribbling over a filled page. He continued to regard you with that same unwavering expression, and only when you looked up again did he seem to catch himself and give you a closed-mouth smile, equally as bashful as yours, and crossed his arms. One step, another, and he was right by the painting, though careful to not obstruct your view - instead, he took his time to read the brief paragraph on the information plaque that had been stuck to the wall off to the side of ‘Love and Pain’. With the same familiarity that is common among those grieving, or in a state of existential sorrow. A bittersweetness prevailed in his aura, one that reminded you of autumn - the falling leaves in red and gold, twirling to join a magnificent carpet, but nonetheless, making a departure, albeit a nearly unnoticeable one. Had he seen many fallen leaves? Was he himself approaching the season? You gasped, but even though the sound was barely audible, you caught the stranger making a minuscule turn in response. 

His footsteps were louder than your thoughts, his departure an irrevocably impactful act that left you breathless. You did not know him, and yet you felt as though you had gotten a glimpse at multiple lifetimes, and were part of a moment that was greater than yourself. In the wordless exchange, question after question had found its root, and something told you that you should not dare attempt to craft him a backstory, and choosing to believe in anything but what would be declared by him would be a gross misinterpretation, much like one that was carried out by those who did not wish to reflect on art and look beyond a first impression. For the first time since you had made your initial discovery of the arts, you felt like you were not alone in the gallery, the other visitor’s presence remained so intense that he could be sat right next to you, scrutinising the same painting, entertaining the same thought. Was the woman with the bright tresses indeed what she had been declared to be over the many years she had been introduced to many venues, many variations of public, and finally finding a home on this wall? Did she settle with her lover, or perhaps a carefully selected victim? Would the man have an answer?

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ . It was unlike you to retrace your steps a mere few days after a visit and return to the same gallery, amble down the same halls, and seek for a new source of investigative inspiration among the same selection. This obviously did not mean that you would never return, definitely not, that would be almost criminal of you to possess such intentions, but you tended to try to cleanse your palate with alternative movements, contemporary takes and avant garde interpretations between searches which were more directly related to your studies. And yet, for the first time in a while, nothing was stopping you from your return. It felt only natural, and so right. Moreover, you felt no unease when you headed straight towards the section that housed the impressionists. An individual with an unspoken, mysterious mission, you were on the hunt for the creative streak, something that would help you ponder the next section of your hefty dissertation, and you could sense that it had to be somewhere here. And, like always, you were right.

‘Bazille’s Studio’, one of the most famous works painted by the so-called ‘tragic artist’ of the impressionists, Frédéric Bazille in 1870. In fact, it had been a collaboration between him and Édouard Manet, another gifted artist, though more renowned as a figure leading modernism, and depicted a scene of discussion and creative collaboration in the studio that Bazille had shared for a certain period of time with other spectacular figures of the visual arts, Claude Monet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, who could also be found in this painting. On the walls were works rejected by the Salon, which at the time had been the one of the most influential, famous art exhibitions in the Western World, administered by the Académie des Beaux-Arts in Paris. Interestingly, above the piano on the right hung a painting which Bazille had purchased from Monet, potentially hinting at the material ties between them, and the importance the young artist had because of his familial wealth. In a sense, Bazille expressed his support, as well as showed an intimate, platonic scene of the art world where there was a moment of calm, of mutual appreciation, despite the financial troubles and tensions due to character that had been experienced in those walls.

You stepped closer to the painting, trying to detect the transition from Bazille’s to Manet’s hand, the latter of whom painted in the former to take ‘centre stage’, palette in hand. Truly seamless work, though what else could it be? This painting had been a new addition to the permanent collection, and after strenuous, detailed restoration work to give the oil paints their original vibrancy and for impeccable strokes to forget the burden of time, you had the pleasure of seeing it in person. You were an arm’s length away from yet another work essential to history, culture and the arts as a societal colossus.

While it was easy enough to appreciate the technical detail, you found yourself halting to remember the names of all those depicted in the painting, failing to finalise the list in your head. Starting from Bazille, you had determined for yourself the presence of Monet and Manet in his vicinity quickly enough, however where Renoir was, or what were the names of the two other gentlemen in the scene, slipped your mind. You rocked to the side to lean closer to the plaque that was meant to provide you with the information, however you only found the name of the painting, the artist and the medium, much to your misfortune. Clicking your tongue, you returned to studying the faces of each individual, and furrowed your brows in agitated concentration. It was simple to take out your phone and search for the answer, though you knew that just as neutral that action would be, so would be your reaction unless you were to remember, or somebody were to-

A presence to your side caught you off-guard, and you felt a shiver run up your spine. One glance was enough to determine that it was the same man from yesterday, only the outfit revealing a change. Other than that, he had the same impeccable posture and stance, as well as a thoughtful look towards the painting in front of you both. His arms were crossed, though not in a defensive manner; instead they offered an interpretation of philosophy, as though this man was carrying centuries of wisdom with him, history having pummelled down on him and yet needing to support it like Atlas; the titan carrying the world.

Today, he was dressed in a mahogany coloured suit, with a white top underneath and some black boots with thick white rubber soles - quite the transition from last time, when he had been a manifestation of a sleek and pristine office gentleman. Hair, now let down and wavy, neatly framed his face, accentuating the regalness of his features. It was astounding how you were still sure that it would be more likely to find a man of this fashion in a painting, rather than standing beside you. You kept quiet, not wanting to interfere with his musings. Perhaps it was just a silly coincidence that the two of you were at the same place and at the same time again - how else? You did not know him, and you hoped that he did not know you. Though, you truly did not mind his company, and maybe it could serve as your motivation to figure out the rest of the characters in the painting. Once again, your attention returned to the task at hand, but before you could even begin to list off prominent figures of the art world during the era of Impressionism, a deep, honey-like whisper halted you and made you hold your breath. 

“Auguste Renoir is the one seated, Emile Zola, the writer, is on the stairs, Monet, Manet and Bazille are, as you likely know in the centre, and that,” he paused to raise his hand, gesturing in the general direction of the far right of the piece, “is Edmond Maitre. Pianist, art collector, and Bazille’s closest friend.”

“I- uh- thank you. How did you know I was trying to recall? Pardon me, I must look so clueless-” you trailed off, eyes finding the floor, an action which seemed to be your automatic response to being under inspection of the man, though this time, he captured your gaze quickly by stepping closer towards you. Looking up, you found concern and apology in his eyes.

“No! Not at all, I… sorry if I misunderstood and I am sorry for forcing you into such erroneous conclusions,” he gave you an ever so slightly crooked smile, charming, very disarming and so suiting this beautiful stranger, that you were instantly prompted by your instincts to return it, dismissing doubt. 

“You saved me,” you joked, though the phrase contained within itself an unlikely compassion. Two people, alone in the same gallery, sharing a precious dialogue was something to cherish, and with all your might you wanted to make it last.

“Just as you made me regard the painting in a new light, for which I thank you, greatly,” he bowed his head, the smile not leaving his face for a moment. There was a recognition in his gaze, as well as an inexplicable admiration. What did he discover?

“I guess it might be true that no matter how many times you see a painting, every viewing brings something new,”

“Well said. Are you an artist? A critic, perhaps?” He inquired, moving closer to stand level with you, head turned slightly in your direction to spare the occasional glance. You shook your head slowly, wondering if in a retelling of your destiny you could have pursued either of the careers he had mentioned.

“I am in the arts, though rather than looking at the present I remain in the past. Art historian, well, a postgraduate. Nothing too fancy.”

“Oh? But that is marvellous, and what are you focusing on?”

“I like to call it the painting in plenair during the turn of the century. I focus mainly on impressionism, though do sometimes stray into its interplay with post-impressionism, modernism and expressionism.”

“Ah, no wonder I have been seeing you here often. Enjoying the new collection?” he asked, eager to hear your opinion. There was excitement in his voice as though you were a renowned expert and were about to bestow upon him a priceless evaluation. And this was without considering the technicality of you having only half-met. Just crossing paths twice in one week.

"Yes, of course… The collection is unlike any other I have seen. I keep wanting to return and stay here for ages." You explained, glancing at the stranger while he nodded along.

"Incredibly happy to hear it. I swear I have seen you around quite often during the past month that the exhibition has been open? Am I correct?" evidently, your rapid blinking was interpreted rather quickly as perplexion, for the man gasped ever so lightly, as if to catch his own speeding thoughts.

“I- how do you know? I do believe this is our… second time meeting?” you uttered, one eyebrow raised in suspicion, which, to your disbelief, revealed something akin to fear in the beautiful stranger’s features. Nervously, he adjusted a strand of hair that was threatening to cover his right eye.

“Not quite… you were present at the opening event, right?” he quizzed.

“Indeed, my depar- wait. But how? Respectfully, I am starting to think you know me.” you enunciated with newfound caution, while the man pursed his lips. One second, another passed in near total silence, until a chuckle escaped him and he shook his head. It appeared as though he was mentally scolding himself - his eyes held no malice, instead glinting with hope, that melancholic wisdom, and something unidentifiable, ethereal, supernatural.

“I think it is high time I introduce myself before this gets out of hand. See, in some sense I work here, and most of my days are spent in the gallery or labouring for it-”

“Ah, I see-”

“Park Seonghwa, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” with one arm folded behind his back and the other on his chest, he bowed to you like how you imagined princes in the numerous portraits you had studied would bow. And the most enthralling part was how the gesture flowed, and was so befitting. Quickly, you bowed in return, but while raising your head, you froze. It hit you why he would know. And know a lot. And would remember you, and likely anyone and everyone who visited. In a low whisper, you asked:

“Am I… correct in assuming that you are ‘the’ Park Seonghwa?” quickly enough, you realised that it was a mistake to find his eyes again - clearly, you were not ready for the intensity, nor for the intrigue that was contained within them, nor for the fact that he moved another step closer to you, the rubber of his boots dampening any sound produced.

“I never knew that there was a ‘the’ attached to my name. I simply love art.”

“Well that love translated into the creation of what is possibly the greatest gallery in the nation, if not worldwide,”

“Oh you flatter me too much, ah, your name-”

“L/N Y/N, and I, too, love art.”

“Elated to hear it,” he gleamed, and you swore the room exploded with the illumination of a thousand stars.

Stunning, awe-inspiring, ever so elegant. He was a walking dream. In that smile was concealed a certain something that had been taboo, a well-kept secret until a couple of decades ago, when those like Seonghwa had started to be fully integrated into society, and no longer had to hide, changing identity from one century to another. With that came Seonghwa’s success - you had read in an article that advertised the permanent exhibition a short blurb of his story, and how for many turbulent decades, the man single-handedly collected masterpieces, crafted a meticulous network and introduced genius artists to the world, and the world to the artists. The gallery was a magnum opus for Seonghwa - a presentation of what he had achieved as a collector, as a patron of the arts, and a celebration of his personal culture. 

You could not help but hone in on the fangs, and recall the original reason why it was even possible for Seonghwa to obtain such legendary works and have as much influence as he presently did. It was not spontaneous; submerged in turmoil, he had personally approached artists who, previously abandoned by critics and other prospective buyers, had never considered a future beyond a mysterious tomorrow. Hiding his own true nature, he crafted the tale of a ‘Park’ dynasty, and rose again and again to continue his work. Perhaps, now, some might argue that once he had revealed himself as a vampire the velocity of Seonghwa’s developments had fallen, but you would passionately argue the opposite. It was challenging to believe that any move by this stunning artistic mastermind was not strategic - the announcement had given the gallery more partnerships, more donations, and in turn, an even greater prominence in the community both among professionals and enjoyers. 

“Thank you,” the phrase spilled from your lips inadvertently. It seemed to be the only thing that was reasonable to say in that given moment. You pondered the pains that must have been suffered to make the world that you were consumed by come together, and the painting in front of you, aside from what was contained within the frame,now shined in a new light externally too, possessing its own story, resembling a search for a kindred spirit, a true home. 

Seonghwa remained quiet, the words of gratitude echoing in his heart. It was endearing, encouraging to hear such warmth from you. So, you did know him, at least the parts he had shown to the public - as was expected from someone so deeply ingrained in visual arts and history, but he could not help but identify it as something much greater than mere awareness. The openness with which you had welcomed conversation with him, the kind charm that radiated from you as you engaged in the careful verbal waltz reminded the vampire of times long, long ago when all that existed for him was drive, enamourment and art. Oh, how your eyes glimmered. His heart clenched into near unbearable agony as he read your expressions, and wondered how much you have seen, what have you yet to see, who you were in this temporary life. If only he could ask fate to tell him how much you remembered of who you had been before. 

“No, thank you, for giving this,” he gestured to the gallery around him, graceful hand unfurling as though revealing a delicate flower, “meaning, and reason to exist.”

“I highly doubt I am of much significance, Mister Park,” you responded, a soft smile on your face.

“Would anything hold the same meaning if there was no one to behold it?” he responded. You chose not to answer, catching onto the rhetoricism, “and please, call me Seonghwa. I’d like to say we are to be good friends.”

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Sitting across from Seonghwa in the cafe that was located on the top floor, above the main halls of the gallery made you feel strangely serene. Today he had foregone the straighter hair styles that you had begun to get used to, surprising you with a head of tousled, almost curled locks that embodied the world’s softness, though remained to be quite the contrast to the more formal and highly fashionable attire that adorned his stature. A suit, tastefully oversized with a buttoned double breasted jacket that was simultaneously serving as a shirt, the plunging v-shaped neckline revealing perfectly smooth skin, and what you noted to be a solitary freckle right in the centre of his collarbone. The trousers, at least from the glimpse that you had allowed yourself when you had met at the entrance to the cafe were of a loose fit, defining his waist at the top and falling to form an almost skirt-like silhouette should he stand how he usually stood: the echoes of what would be called the ‘third position’ in ballet, more relaxed, but still retaining an elegance that only he could carry. The biggest shock to you, however, was Seonghwa’s choice of shoes - a refreshing point to the visual, he had selected to contrast the formalwear with a pair of limited edition, geometrically intriguing Converses. You could catch a glimpse of one of them from over the edge of the table whenever his slightly shaking leg, positioned over the other, would rock forwards just that tiny bit stronger. 

While the setting was meant to be casual, the circumstances in which you found yourself were nothing short of miraculous. Never in a million years would you have imagined for it to be possible to be sat across the table from, quite possibly, one of the most legendary contributors to art restoration, collection and exhibition. On top of that, Seonghwa was a figure who actively bridged the gap between disparate communities, finding a common language, and using the arts as a salvation. You were in awe, and could not hold back on regarding the handsome vampire as he quietly reported your and his orders to the waiter who had floated to your table.

“Are you sure you do not want anything else?”

“Yes, I am sure. I do not wish to exploit your kindness-”

“-Not at all. I hope you do not mind that I… must make a rather unconventional order,” he smiled sheepishly, clearing his throat so as to attempt to hide his doubts, though you were uncertain as to how much of such emotions could possibly be left after what had to have been centuries. 

“An unconventional order is pouring a sugary energy drink into a triple shot espresso and calling it dinner,” you answered, eyes travelling from Seonghwa’s face to the mural on the wall a few tables away that wrapped behind him and to your left, disrupted only by the occasional floor length window that provided city vistas - rather gloomy, compared to the optimistic illumination of the restaurant. Perhaps out of pity, or out of genuine entertainment, Seonghwa chuckled.

“That does sound like an acquired taste, indeed. Thank you,”

“No need. Thank you for inviting me,” you turned back, nodding a polite bow as he softly waved your gesture off.

A silence settled across the table as you waited for your respective drinks. Your hand, had you not consciously restrained yourself, would have probably reached for the phone that you stored in your purse, but now was fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt, finding the buttons to stress test the threads that had them sewn tight to the fabric. You were not bored, in fact, far from it. You needed a barrier. The grandeur of this man’s presence was almost overwhelming. He was not a mere individual in a room, he consumed it. Had you just walked in, you were certain that your gaze would still settle on his form. Just like the concrete outside was grey, and the pause retained a divine ambiguity, Seonghwa was unforgettable. In an attempt to calm your clouded thoughts, you studied the mural once more.

“May I inquire into your thoughts on the decor?”

“The choice of ‘A Sunday on La Grande Jatte’ is wise. I am guessing you were the one to make the decision?” you heard an exhale, and once more your attention was captured.

“Alas, I cannot take full accolades for this. This stemmed from a discussion that a good friend of mine and I had one late night. Seurat just so happened to make an appearance amidst the chatter, and so… this was born,” he gestured at the surroundings. Clearly, the interior was picked carefully to fit the theme of the legendary painting. 

From the colours to the textures and the greenery that had been intricately set up across the restaurant, every detail had a meaning and a place, and did not take away from the spaciousness of the hall. It was breathable, while still giving the illusion that you were stepping into a whimsical impressionist paradise. Perhaps that was another reason why you could not quite contain your disbelief firstly in your encounter, secondly in its progression, and thirdly in your interlocutor’s warmth. 

“Spectacular, truly. I have heard you have an eye for detail, however this surpasses all expectations.”

“Oh? There is more you have heard?” he interjected, leaning closer to you and placing an elbow on the table, simply to rest his head on his hand. While this could potentially be seen as slightly unceremonious, it hinted at well-kept confidence, ownership, control. A healthy undercurrent of motivation that came with indirect praise.

“I-oh y-yeah of course,” you did not mean to stutter, but some part of you was grateful you did, for the smirk that had threatened to burst on Seonghwa’s lips was enough for you to feel ignited to elaborate, “if my memory is not failing me, you were the one to distinguish a reproduction of a piece some time ago, no?”

“Ah- yes. That was a Degas reproduction. I must say, the attempt was sincere, however when I saw the-, hm, you will not be startled, will you?”

“Please,” you urged him to continue, intrigued by the story. 

“When I saw the original, as it was being made and when it had been finalised, it would be shameful of me to not spot a fake,” he fell back into his chair, just in time for the drinks to be served. 

A coffee for you, and a non-descript beverage concealed by a semi-opaque, tall glass for him. Though, you did not need to be a detective to guess what it was that Seonghwa was bringing to his lips, and what he took a tentative sip of. The only mystery that was remaining for you was what ‘type’ he had picked - was it O+? B-? Whatever else? You joined him in the tasting, lifting the mug and indulging in the wonderful aroma of your americano. It did not strike you as necessary to opt for something fancier and lie to yourself - so you settled for your regular order, much to your joy. Familiar taste and the reliability of the caffeine hitting your system painted the scene in more comforting colours, and gradually, you found yourself easing into the dialogue more and more, until life stories, musings and a surprisingly large common ground came pouring. 

You discovered that Seonghwa possessed a unique sensitivity and attunement to those around him. Focused on the emotional experiences, he felt through time and could recount emotions like the memory was from a mere few days, rather than decades ago. He was well-spoken, eloquent, intelligent, polite in every right as he navigated through the linguistic landscape and guided you like a partner in a dance. You were spiralling oh so quickly, intrigue catching up to you and prompting you to sacrifice all of your senses to the man and the pleasantly intoxicating atmosphere he captured you in. He was enchanting, and it was far too easy to give in. 

“May I reveal something?” in a hushed tone, he inquired, a finger absent-mindedly tracing the rim of his glass. 

“Oh, a little secret?” you raised your eyebrows in jest, lightening the initial seriousness with which Seonghwa uttered the question.

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Depends on how you take it. A confession might be more accurate,” he waited for you to take the final sip of your coffee before continuing, unphased by your unwavering focus, “if I were to be honest, I have been meaning to approach you.”

“Pardon?”

“As you know we have a… common awareness of each other thanks to what is housed under this roof, but ever since we first unknowingly crossed paths… I wanted to speak to you.”

Confused, you did not speak, though the words contained an unparalleled affection within them. What could he possibly mean? You chose to refrain from commenting, your hesitation prompting the vampire to continue.

“Do you remember the most recent opening night? Of the exhibition? I believe you were with someone…” he trailed off, hoping you would continue for him.

“Ah, yes, a friend of mine from university. So?”

“This might sound strange but, I distinctly remember you mentioning a name. An artist from the same era, dubbed as L/N Y/N?”

“Goodness, you overheard that? I am so sorry, it is just that said artist has intrigued me for some time, and I was half-hoping to encounter their work. Maybe it is because our names are the same but still….”

“Elusive, aren’t they?”

“To put it softly, yes. I only vaguely recall seeing… maybe one piece in my lifetime, when I was little, and then… nothing. And there is barely any information on the artist online, let alone libraries and archives.”

“Hm, indeed. I guess that makes two of us…”

“Two of us who are searching?”

“That’s right. It brought me happiness to know that I am not alone in this endeavour.”

“Then we can keep searching together.”

While you were positive that you could not conceal your interest, Seonghwa’s did not go unnoticed either. It was of course possible that he was simply well-versed in political correctness, but the burning depth of his pupils told you otherwise. Enthrallment, the discovery of a kindred spirit, recognition, the rekindling of a bond that had existed at some point long ago - all fantasies that played out in your mind as you returned that look with subtle fervour. You wondered how many people he graced with those charms. How many had succumbed to his influence, becoming a marker on his infinite life path, a fleeting second? How many had his lips known, how many had turned into a decadent treat for a genius man with natural peculiarities? While the researcher part of you was perplexed and aching for answers, the you that was caught in the moment simply let it go on, and the feeling of Seonghwa’s leg brushing against yours, and the pride blooming in your chest as he praised the few articles and papers you had published upon having claimed that he ‘knew some things about you too’ preoccupied you in the most magnificent way.

Naturally, you agreed to meet Seonghwa again. On your journey home, in the privacy of the anonymous metro, immersed in the cacophony of deafening rails and the millions travelling to anywhere, you pressed your phone to your racing heart as the vampire, the man, the beguiling Park Seonghwa sent you a message confirming so. Who knew a simple selection of words could be so captivating?

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Under the comforting thrum of raindrops on the large umbrella, you walked down the streets of the grey-coloured city, your hand lightly holding onto Seonghwa’s arm while he ensured that both of you were protected from the elements. Despite the dull light and bitterness of the cooling season, Seonghwa appeared radiant, truly timeless with every gesture and stride. The elegant angles of his face that you could tirelessly study stood out against the monotone buildings and overcast skies. His voice drowned out the sound of droplets racing one another to the ground. A miraculous gentleman who appeared in your life much like a portrait, or a landscape - a masterpiece you wanted to explore in every spare moment, and better yet, this masterpiece was equally as open to you as you were to him. 

“...essentially, yes. It is like another nationality. A marker of species isn’t too far isn’t it? Just another line on a stack of documents. Nothing more,” Seonghwa concluded his explanation, pursing his lips for a moment before letting an exhale turned dragon’s breath escape into the afternoon.

“Makes sense. So would that mean there are separate medical papers and treatment too?”

“Well… when regeneration fails us or when a given case is severe enough… yes. Though it is handled by private clinics run by other vampires.”

“There are private clinics?”

“Of course. Often they are connected to donation points too, and that is how we remain on the right side of the law and stay alive,” he nodded to himself, giving you a bittersweet smile when he noticed confusion overtake your gaze. “Blood,” he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, “I mean blood.”

In a nervous stupor, you cleared your throat and focused on a droplet that was hanging onto the edge of the umbrella, right in front of you, all the way until the gentle motion of Seonghwa’s amble provoked its abrupt descent onto the stone under your feet. 

“Ah, yes, I see-”

“If you find this disturbing, we can forget the conversation ever-”

“-I want to know you better, Seonghwa, truly-”

“Careful-”

“Sorry wha-” 

With an extraordinary swiftness, you were tugged abruptly by the arm. Not registering your surroundings, you merely went with the inertia, caught off-guard by the proximity of your face to the vampire’s as he held you against him with the arm that you had previously been resting your own on. A hand that you raised on instinct went limp and landed on Seonghwa’s chest, feeling the thick felted wool of his coat. The ringing of a bell, going farther away from you by the second, incessant but at least waking you up from the blur, was enough for you to put two and two together - a cyclist who thought they owned every part of the street, like always. You sighed.

“Reckless… my apologies I did not mean to-” Seonghwa tried to detangle himself, refusing to remain in your personal space for longer than necessary no matter how much he did want to, but his efforts were reduced to nothing when your hand moved to a hold on his upper arm - reassuring, comfortable, accepting.

“Thank you,” you interrupted, “that bike would have definitely run into me…”

“It’s nothing,” a low chuckle echoed in your ears as Seonghwa peered into your pupils, confidence that had previously wavered out of habitual caution now restored, growing into a pride as you continued to hold onto him, “the man was slow enough for there to be no risk of harm. I hope you are not too startled though.”

“Oh? You have super powers too? Do elaborate,” you jested, resuming your walk.

“I would call it more like… being a finely tuned machine. Can’t say I have bad reaction speed. Though I must say, it was a little challenging pulling you out of the way,” there was an evident intent behind the words. However, you were too curious to pay it any mind, instead preferring to find out their meaning live.

“How so?”

“I think this,” dropping his arm, Seonghwa’s hand reached for yours, and without a moment of hesitation, his fingers were intertwining with yours, his palm pressed against yours, “would be better. You know, for safety.” As if you could ever reject him. This was a fact you had established for yourself with an unprecedented certainty. His gallant disposition, attentiveness all confirmed a care for you that was impossible to ignore. 

There was something picturesque about the present after meeting this wonderful, infinite pool of art and humanity. You found yourself leafing through articles, art books and biographies with a more wistful and sentimental perspective, imagining what it would be like if it were you who was immortalised in the thousands of brushstrokes, or if you were on the other side of the canvas, how would you go about depicting the scenes unfolding before your very eyes. Timelessness - a quality shared between the art you so adored, and the man you had encountered and over the weeks, let your intrigue be transformed into a shy flame of infatuation. Perhaps it was the underlying reason why you did not reject his advances, nor cower in fear of his true nature with which he was upfront. The other, of course, was the search for the mysterious artist, an adventure that fuelled many of your dialogues, and prompted you to spend more time in the library and the archives of your university than you had ever done before - to the point where Seonghwa himself had encouraged you to take a break from your intellectual expeditions and step into the world as a casual observer. So, you let yourself drift; it finally hit you, what scenes your once again tranquil stroll reminded you of, and you smiled to yourself as you recalled the intricacies of the not quite commonly discussed representation of the Impressionist movement. 

‘Rue de Paris, temps de pluie’, painted by Gustave Caillebotte; his most famous work. Not quite as widely discussed, despite still technically being created in the Impressionist era, perhaps due to the meandering through form, realism and reliance on stronger lines rather than broad brushstrokes and the study of light. You did find it fascinating how Caillebotte’s passion for photography had seeped into this piece, however. Much like how, in recent days, you could easily find a way to mention Seonghwa in conversation, be it related to the arts or not. From the subjects in the foreground being slightly out of focus while the middle ground was crystal clear, to how the shapes of some passersby were cropped were all characteristic of photos, rather than paintings, making this particular work all the more dear to you. It was a reflection of life, of behaviour and of what had been daily back in the late nineteenth century.

Was it any different from now, aside from those grand, global topics that historians dedicated their lives to studying? If one were to whittle down to the intricacies, the miniatures that ornamented the span of a human existence, was it so terribly far away from what you were born into, and Seonghwa saw develop and had adopted? How people shielded themselves from the rain with umbrellas, and then used them as a tool to isolate themselves from other urbanites who were in a rush to take a day-long route out of their homes… and back again. The latest silhouettes of dress and accessory; the same rush to be with the times as now.

You felt your companion’s arm move, prompting you to let go and leave your hand hovering as though you were awaiting some kind of change. You bit back an unprecedented sliver of disappointment, only to be caught by surprise once again as you felt the hand settle on the small of your back. Cautious, like you were going to melt from any more pressure than the brush of a feather. A quick glance was enough to determine that you were being studied intently for any sign of discomfort - Seonghwa was ready to pull away at any moment, any sigh, and most definitely at any word. A meek smile settled on your lips, and you shyly used an oncoming stranger as an opportunity to affirm the gesture, stepping towards the vampire, and sensing the confidence of his protective measure be solidified. With glee he followed your every tilt and turn, angling away from the passing form that neither of you could focus on. The touch was electric, somehow monumental despite being so common and barely present. Your mind was on fire, pondering what it would be like to put your head on the elegant man’s shoulder, and let yourself be carried away into a terrific fairy tale.

“This really is a rainy day,”

“Seems quite sunny to me,” you respond with sarcasm, realising only after the fact that your phrase still did retain an element of truth within it. 

Sunshine did not have to be literal. It was easy to see, you just needed to return Seonghwa’s gaze, and watch as another spring flower blossomed in the soul of one you had initially assumed to be so cold, so distant. In the darkest winter was a safe haven that you could not help but lean into, and regardless of what you had initially thought, with him, you felt more human, more safe and alive than ever. He listened without fail to your ramblings, and could easily pick up the ball and balance it with his own musings that you could listen to for many lifetimes.

Lifetimes; immortality, the one concept you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. Well, the latter was technically not true, as Seonghwa had elaborated some few days ago: vampires did age, albeit at such a slow pace that to the run of the mill human being, it was impossible to notice, and if they did, it would be someone very close, and only over a matter of decades. Maybe it was this exact inability that made you want to stay and learn all there could be about the gallerist - you thought that would make you feel like you have been living forever. His wisdom was beautiful. The kindness with which he treated you, akin to that of how a spouse treats their long-time sweetheart with a mellow and comfortable affection, was not something you asked for nor expected, but something which he introduced himself with through every action, progressively more amiable when you allowed him to advance.

“Mm, no wonder I can’t quite look at you,” he mused out loud, dramatically looking off into the distance. You raised an eyebrow, curious about what was going to come after his theatrical pause, “your brightness is unparalleled,” Seonghwa chuckled, satisfied with your sigh and the way in which you pretended to be annoyed, only to dissolve in a mute giggle. “So, I do suggest we get out of the rain for a moment and stop by that book shop over there, shall we?”

Following his hand, you spotted an antique bookshop a few doors down, marked by an iron sign and ornate shop window decorations that glistened with each hit of the dancing droplets. A warm golden light emanated from the inside, the hue comparable to a summer’s day. An odd feeling of deja vu washed over you, as though you had been in this store before, even though this was quite the distance away from your home, not on any of your usual commutes and in a part of town you barely visited aside from the occasional brisk walk. It had been established over a century ago, sporting a historical plaque and detailing original to the era the date on the sign suggested. Suppressing your internal monologue, you simply nodded, fond of Seonghwa’s excitement as he pushed lightly against your back and walked on ahead. If you were any more of a romantic, you would have assumed that the shop was a representation of his heart, but you couldn’t allow yourself to think that way, at least not when you felt heat rise to your cheeks as he whispered your name, openly planning what you could look for amidst the rare editions together. You and him turned into a ‘we’ so naturally, you barely had time to blink. A new brushstroke on a canvas, brave, bold and bright. Impressionist.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

The hypnotising improvisation on a semi-acoustic guitar, followed by a launch back into the theme of a well-known jazz song had you tapping on the counter, unknowingly following every drum beat. The bar turned cosy music venue that Seonghwa had invited you out to was proving to be every bit a wonder of the world, and paradise inside of the otherwise gloomy city which had been plagued with miserable weather and lack of daylight for atrociously long. The classy establishment was a well known favourite among the vampires residing in the city, especially those aligned with a more bohemian and art-focused lifestyle. Critics, painters, collectors, musicians, poets alike all gathered to share ideas and energy, and reminisce days long gone, while the band - one that had not changed since the bar’s establishment, revived legendary pieces one after another. 

With ease, Seonghwa had ordered your favourite drink, having memorised it after your many outings that had smoothly transitioned into dates and shared nights. He remembered every detail about you, holding each one tenderness. Your lover gazed at you as he ended a conversation with a fellow collector who had recently come to town for a few days, stretching out his hand until it just touched yours, guiding it to lie flat on the counter. Seonghwa’s palm, still retaining a pleasant coolness despite him having had a couple of drinks of his own, was another reassurance that in the buzz of the venue, you still had your person by your side. Feeling his digits tap and then proceed to brush the back of your hand, you hummed in contentment, and let your eyes travel over the beautiful vampire, who leaned back, tempting you just for fun, knowing full well that you were wholly his, and even when you turned to look elsewhere, it was his face you saw in the crowd, it was his voice that rang in your ears, it was his touch that ghosted over your skin. 

The bustier from Alexander McQueen, the gorgeous flowy shirt with ruffles and cuts so tastefully sewn and executed, the statement necklace that was worthy of being displayed at a gallery and must be the envy of many, the high heeled boots that were concealed by elegant trousers - Seonghwa was your favourite work of art, and you could never deny it. Each one of his gestures was worthy of marvel, and the care with which he approached everything - even the tending to the items which he painstakingly selected and matched for tonight made your heart skip a beat. It was boggling how each garment and accessory was either an original, or a one of a kind piece. But at the same time, you did not expect anything less of Seonghwa.

He must be impossible to depict in paintings, you concluded, shamelessly staring at your lover’s face, from the shape of his nose, to the plushness of his lips, to the waviness of his night-like inky locks. You bet many had tried, but judging by the lacking evidence in the art world, they must have failed, miserably, to create something more immortal and invincible than the model and muse. You understood them, and Seonghwa gave no signs of being perturbed. 

“So, was that the intent behind our spontaneous trip to this bar tonight?” you gestured at your surroundings, taking another sip from your ornate glass. A sharp exhale accompanied a contrasting soft answer:

“Not at all,I had the business sorted a couple of days ago, and tonight was a lucky crossing of paths to secure the deal,” cryptic as ever, Seonghwa only alluded to the matter at hand.

The matter, or how he had referred to it as ‘business’ was a particular artwork that he had been hunting, by the elusive artist you had been investigating, first in your lonesome, and then joining forces with Seonghwa. Apparently, one of the pieces, by some stroke of unimaginable luck, had been kept safe in the private collection of a ‘Mister Kim’, at least that was how he had been initially introduced to you. Until you put two and two together, and when the very well dressed and styled character had entered the bar and made a beeline towards your partner in artistic musings and romance, recognised the man as a world-famous designer and fashion icon, Kim Hongjoong. And of course, another vampire and kind soul in one. 

Their conversation had happened outside of your earshot; whether it was on purpose or just so happened to unfold that way was for your ruminations to determine, but you did overhear enough to figure out that this was a portrait, a never seen work, and was completed by the artist who as it had turned out had been closer with Seonghwa than you had initially thought. 

“Seems to be very important, and not just in a ‘collector’ sense…” you trailed off, watching as the ice in your drink cracked, “is this why you were interested, you know, back then?”

“If I were to be honest, darling, I was, and still am, a lot more interested in you. The artist was something of an excuse to get a conversation going. And I do hope,” Seonghwa turned and sauntered towards you, “this conversation does not end.” 

Even though you were sitting on one of the bar stools, the heels and stance still left him some room to look downwards, and his sultry expression, orbs glinting at you through dark lashes left you transfixed. In moments such as this, you hated to be mortal. There were so many things that you could not possibly know, and no matter how hard you would try to comprehend the vastness of the angelic man’s mind, you would always remain theoretical, and accept the grand majority of intricacies as axiom.

“I hope so too,” your voice barely rose above a whisper as his gloved hand landed on your neck, gliding upwards to caress your jawline.

“I’m so glad I found you,” his thoughts were elsewhere, you were sure of it, and yet, his gaze remained unwavering, “my eternal love”. Lips stained with bittersweet worship, the words stumbled from them to strike you repeatedly in the heart, forcing it to lose its rhythm. He was regarding you like he had stumbled upon a priceless treasure, a divinity, a paradise. Something far from you and from this planet, but by Seonghwa’s careful selection, etched in your features.

Were you the embodiment of something greater for him? You would not consider yourself to be a model example of a human being, neither were you a pretty statue to display in an exhibition. You were you, but Seonghwa kept on convincing you that it was exactly this that had captivated him and showed him a new beginning. Did you wish to believe that? Of course. But a vampire who was hundreds of years old could keep a grand variety of secrets beyond your understanding, even if he were to exclaim them right in front of you and sketch them out. His eternal love - your version of eternity, or his? A life the duration of a butterfly’s abstract dance to the heavens.

“Love?” he called out to you, eyebrows knitted in concern due to your prolonged silence. You had set your drink down, and were staring at the shine of the glossy chrome silver and pearl on Seonghwa’s necklace. “Talk to me, say anything.”

“I- hm. I think I am just tired. Yeah, that must be it. Tired so I am overthinking, no worries. I’ll just be right here and-”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you tilted your head, noting how Seonghwa immediately straightened out, and instead of attempting to tower over you stepped over to the side to set a protective hand over yours.

“This is a majority vampire bar, full of unfamiliar individuals, this whole deal with the artwork is up in the air and-”

“First of all, I don’t care. Second, you are here with me. And third, I want to trust in the fact that you would not do anything foolish nor harmful. Am I right in my evaluation?” you uttered, still not quite able to look into Seonghwa’s infinite pools of brilliant sienna and dark brown.

“I- I am honoured, but that still does not detract from the fact that we can go get some air and come back. Shall we?”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to. Hell, need to. Let us have a quick wander?”

“...I’d like that.”

In no time, the winter air hit your cheeks and you were wrapping yourself as tightly as you could in your oversized coat. In your ears the pleasant sound of the vampire’s heels rang out, echoed by the stunning road onto which you were spat out by the heavy black front door of the bar. Warm-toned streetlights liberally decorated the sidewalks and painted the night in honey, gold and copper accents. Reflections of an artificial summer in the puddles and winter chill. Downright magical. Seonghwa seeked out your hand, holding it tight and guiding it into the pocket of his own coat, smirking when you raised an eyebrow. 

“What?”

“Nothing at all.”

You were certain that you were walking through a landscape painting, every element captured by your vision falling into its rightful place, harmonising with the rest. The mumbling and music was long gone, only to be replaced by conversation of other late city explorers and the occasional rumbling of a car lazily rolling past. 

“Pissarro.”

“Hm?” Seonghwa kept looking ahead, but squeezed your hand to ask for you to continue.

“Boulevard Montmartre at Night. Painted in 1897, no?” you pointed at the surroundings with a tilt of the chin.

“Ah, indeed! Your perceptiveness never ceases to amaze me.”

“Well, thanks to you I got to see the original, so how could I not make the visual analogy?” you nudged his shoulder, earning a chuckle.

The painting was the only example of a landscape at night from the artist Camille Pissarro, making it all the more special despite it being part of a series of 14 views of the same location. Snow, rain, fog, morning, varying seasons, but only one glimmering night. It was one of the works that Seonghwa had managed to provide for your studies, resulting in a more than impressive academic outcome. Like Pissarro kept on painting the vista, your lover kept on giving, never asking for anything more than for you to share your hours with him, something you did not need to be prompted to do anyways.

“...I’m sorry I cannot reveal more than I do, at least not just yet,” he apologised, as though what he was committing was the greatest crime known to humanity and the supernatural.

As you looked up at the starry night sky, you swore you had heard these words before, uttered by the same voice, the same fingers interlocked with yours. A stabbing sensation in your cranium made you gasp, but you regained your composure quickly enough to not make it a priority for either of you. At the same time, Seonghwa’s expression altered to a semblance of… hope? Longing? You could not pinpoint it, but one of the many glowing dots above you clearly landed in his shining orbs, and he eagerly waited.

Waited for longer than you could realise in your present state.

On their own accord, your lips moved, forcing out a subconscious acknowledgement, previously suppressed. You swore the phrase belonged to another being, but it was as refreshing as the breeze tousling Seonghwa’s locks.

“I know. I can wait too.”

“Soon, my love.”

“I-I know.”

“I miss you.”

“I-” vision growing hazy, you reached to the vampire for support, which he readily provided, “I- too.”

One blink - oil paints decorated your hands, and those alluring eyes were staring back at you from a canvas. Another blink - Seonghwa was repeating your name, pressing his cheek against yours as he shielded you from falling into darkness with his strong arms.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Your office was inviting and offered a secure haven: a collection of neutral and wooden tones, with dashes of greenery to relax the eyes. From a potted ivy plant settled on the top of a large wall-length shelving unit to an indoor palm tree enjoying the rays in its designated corner, the room was a miniature paradise. You ran your hands over the thick birch desk, cautiously avoiding the stack of documents you had arranged for yourself to go through this day. Artwork restoration reports, contracts, exhibition plans for years to come… everything you thought you would never see, and yet it was right here in your palms.

Time moved slower, or at least that was how you began to perceive it now that it was in abundance. A fountain that did not cease to bestow gifts upon you - again, something you would have never imagined prior to the curious series of events that were your previous life unfolding the way they did. One fateful meeting, and you were a changed person, staring into the horizon and labelling it as a continuation rather than as a termination of all you could achieve. The world was your oyster, and loving dedication was the price. But when the price was so sweet, and so easy, who were you to say no? If you had to pick a concern, it would be the bandages and binding on your right arm; friction from the sleeve of the turtleneck and blazer you had worn today applying uncomfortable pressure to the delicate wound concealed within. 

You stood up from the leatherbound office chair, adjusting your clothes and stepping to the window behind you to look out at the garden belonging to the gallery - a recent expansion. Grand, regal, and as the papers had emphasised, now returned to its rightful owner. You wondered just how much of the city had belonged to vampires at least for a portion of time, and you had no doubt that you would be making more discoveries soon, but for the time being, you were happy with the re-acquisition, or as Seonghwa had called it: your ‘turning’ gift. A particularly strong shift of the arm made you wince, and your other hand shot to nurse your sore arm.

“I’m so sorry darling, does it still hurt?” Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had slipped into the office, and immediately rushed towards you, concern painting his beautiful face through furrowed brows and a tiny scowl.

“N-no, barely. The sweater is silly-”

“Let’s not disregard ailments, shall we?” your partner gingerly lifted your arm, and after gaining permission through a few lethargic nods, pushed the sleeve upwards to reveal the bandages, “I- really, we need to apply the ointment again, that must be it-”

“Seonghwa-”

“Work can wait, I just need to-”

“My love-” Seonghwa paused his ramblings to stare back at you, puzzled, “it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Literally just a bite, isn’t it?” you smiled, the action instantly being mirrored, albeit with a tinge of remaining worry.

“Mm, perhaps I am overreacting, I can’t help it,” your thoughts were numbed by the silken touch of his lips on the back of your hand, wool against cotton as he pulled you into an embrace, “it should heal well once you get used to your new form, I am sure of it,” his tresses tickled your nose, but you ignored it, instead letting your head fall against him.

You stood almost completely still aside from the rocking side to side that was habitual for you both. A lulling motion, one that either of you revealed only to each other. A secret reserved for intimate, loving moments such as this. You shook your head in amusement and buried your nose in Seonghwa’s sweater, inhaling the aroma of his sweet perfume, recalling ‘Love and Pain’ - the painting that had marked the tightening of the invisible string tying you together. Or was it? Coincidentally, on the wall behind your lover was the real inception of your union, one that you had forgotten from one lifetime to the next. A portrait. The one that Seonghwa had been chasing, and what had been his decades-long mission came to an end.

Signed with your own hand, were initials of your name and the year of completion of the painting. None other than the beloved collector and muse, Park Seonghwa, who had posed for you, or rather a version of you, and ever since then, you were the only one on his mind. You had been the master both of the arts and of his fate.

“Please, I am embarrassed…” your partner mumbled, settling for futile attempts to position you in such a way that you would be looking out at the garden, but to no avail. Poking him playfully at the side, you induce a halt, and question him:

“What is there to be embarrassed about? That’s you. Painted by me.”

“Exactly. And you have it in your office, of all places.”

“Well I can’t exactly have you, in the flesh, on display all the time and I would like a work of art around here-”

“Shh-”

“Don’t shush me, Park. Be grateful I don’t keep the sketches out too.”

In all honesty, He would not mind if you did. You could do anything, and the vampire would adore and honour it. Whether it was in your blood or in his nature, he had never regretted almost losing himself in your favour. In your last life, he had gone against all rules set up by vampires, playing against what he swore was the devil in order to have the sliver of a chance to start again and, this time not lose you. Had his plan not succeeded, it was highly probable that he would have been erased from this planet too. But he would rather call himself a masochist than be law-abiding when it came to you.

“Next, you’ll be threatening me with a showcase of just my face-”

“What if I do?” you quipped, pulling back to boop his nose with yours, “I think it would look very pretty. Besides, now that I remember my apparent mastery of the visual arts, can’t I be a tiny bit proud, hm?”

“I would be terribly disappointed if you weren’t. Now, may I put that ointment on you?”

As if you could refuse those sparkling eyes. Promptly following him to the loveseat, which unfortunately for Seonghwa was situated right under the portrait, you sat down and waited. Your partner rushed to the medical cupboard - another new addition installed exclusively to support you as you were getting used to the vampiric nuances in your day to day. With well-practised motions, the required kit was in his hands, and in a blink, set down on the plush cushioning of the miniature sofa. You held back a chuckle as you saw the pout you so loved appear as he focused on unwinding the bandage with utmost care. Before you could feel any hurt, Seonghwa would already let go, or alter the angle at which he was tugging on the material. As soon as the plaster was peeled, you were met with the reason for your eternity and reawakening.

Two deep punctures, still a little irritated, not quite healed, but nevertheless a marking of your future and something you regarded with fondness. Wounds did not hurt when they were merely physical, especially not when you had someone who had bound their immortality to yours to tend to them. Seonghwa bit his lower lip, discontented with the ache as though he could feel it too, and took numerous pauses while cleaning up the wound to glance at you. 

“I’ll be applying the ointment now, tell me if it stings, okay?”

“Okay,” you knew it wouldn’t. You had never heard a man be so adamant on checking ingredients at an apothecary before following Seonghwa after your first appointment as a vampire. But just to appease him, you followed this small spoken routine. 

“You know… I was scared,” his voice was barely audible, and he could not look at you.

“What were you scared of?”

“Losing you again.”

“Well, I am here, aren’t I?”

Even before you were aware of Seonghwa, let alone the truth behind the portrait, all the roads still led to the same resolution. The arts, art history. Virtually synonymous, for without creation, there would not be the past, and without the study of the past, there would not be the celebration and respect of creation. Finally, you understood the beauty of evolution that Seonghwa had undergone all while remaining the same vulnerable yet legendary figure, dedicated to his vision of the arts, having recollected your own. 

“So many things could have gone wrong,” Seonghwa’s mind was reeling from the sheer terror of possibility. He had taken advantage of his high social standing as an aristocrat and pulled rank to avoid waiting for any ritual guides to step in - it was not the first time, but still only the second. And both cases were related to you. 

The first time might have been a foolish decision in retrospect, but considering the dire circumstances the extreme solution was the only one. With one foot crossing to the afterlife he was combatting the reapers, and was not going to let go of you even if it meant being pulled in. This time, when you had approached him a number of nights ago with your final agreement to his tentative proposal and kissed his ruminations away, he was ready. Years of study were not going to waste, after all. And yet when he studied the same irises as those from a time long gone, when he held the same hands, his blood ran even colder. What a gambling man he had been back then. The procedure to regift life to you had been risky, and Seonghwa, having never practised those elements of the dark arts bestowed upon his kind, had been taking shot after shot in the dark. How dare he play with your being like that? How dare he hold your existence on a sinful scale?

“But they didn’t.”

No they did not. Your confidence in him had aided considerably, he had to admit. The positioning of his fangs was perfect, and he had memorised all incantations down to the inflections. Second time a charm, but much more anxiety-inducing. Turning was not the same as revival, either. He could not stop himself from imagining the many scenarios of where he would have gone wrong, and cemented your identity only as a name on manuscripts, dissertation, paintings and reports. 

“Even the ritual, what if you did not remember-”

“I would love you just the same. Whether I had all my memories or not. That much I can assure you of. That is why I trusted you in the first place, Seonghwa.”

You did not need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. All you could do was suggest a brighter palette, and be by his side no matter what colour scheme he were to decide on. It was an artist’s duty to know when to set the tools aside and consider a painting finished. The luxury of a collector was to live through many paintings, unify the souls contained in each and sustain a chronology of expression. The keepers, the scholars, made to observe change rather than induce it directly. This was why you were all the more grateful for Seonghwa daring to change your mortal fate not once but twice, risking himself and his image in your favour.

When your partner was satisfied with his medical care, he hummed to notify you and began to clear up, at least until you placed a weak hand on his leather-clad thigh to gain his full attention. He searched for a hint in your features, eyes darting across your face at lightning speed. Relief came when you grinned brightly, whispering sincere gratitude.

Impressionism - the movement and path made by legends. A rejection of traditional practice, a new vision and interpretation of the outside world in the hues of the soul. Light, reality, immediate action. A breath that reset the arts, magnificent and radical for the time, and now, much adored. From its conception to its establishment, you were there to witness and fall in love, and now could look back at the beauty that had bloomed. His irises, your favourite colour. The speckles of various shades, your favourite details. You stared into Seonghwa’s eyes and did not dare blink. Your favourite impression.

🩸 perma-taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @alyszaen @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy

[cyberscribeassistant]

Giving Kids the Mirrors and Windows They Deserve

As both a parent and children's book author, I'm always on the lookout for stories that reflect the diverse world we live in. While progress has been made, there are still too many groups and perspectives underrepresented in kids' books.

We need more mirrors and windows. Mirrors that allow children to see themselves, and windows into the lives of others.

That's why I was thrilled to learn about an initiative highlighting overlooked niches in children's literature. They identified underserved topics that deserve more attention, from stories celebrating neurodiversity to tales exploring non-Western mythologies.

This resonated so strongly with me. Because all kids should be able to find stories they relate to. And all kids need books to teach them about people whose lives seem different from their own. But are not so different after all.

As the mom of a child with ADHD, I get discouraged browsing bookstore shelves dominated by neurotypical characters. I desperately want my son to see positive reflections of himself in stories. And for neurotypical kids to gain an understanding of what being ADHD means.

We also need more everyday portrayals of modern families. Families with same-sex parents. Single parent households. Grandparents as guardians. Friends as chosen family. These nurturing relationships are real for many children today. Let's showcase that diversity.

Equally important are stories that embrace identities too long marginalized. Gender nonconforming kids who shatter norms. Children of color sharing tales steeped in rich cultural traditions. Immigrants and refugees navigating life in new lands. Native voices reclaiming narrative power.

The goal isn't just greater representation. It's genuine, empowering representation. Where marginalized kids are the heroes of their own stories. And communities too often stereotyped are depicted in all their beautiful complexity.

Expanding representation means introducing children to people and places outside their bubbles too. Weaving in diverse cultures, languages, mythologies and histories broadens every child's worldview.

Kids naturally have big questions about life's complexities. Let's give them stories that explore poverty, inequality, incarceration, environmental issues in age-appropriate ways. That teach critical thinking skills for challenging the status quo. The future they'll inherit demands no less.

Of course, the magic of children's literature is its ability to make big ideas tangible and relatable. The best stories speak to universal joys and struggles, even when settings differ. They show how below surface differences, we are all so very human.

The transformation comes when kids realize that truth not only through windows into lives unlike theirs, but mirrors reflecting their own faces staring back. What once seemed foreign now feels familiar.

That is the promise of inclusive children's stories at their best. Not just creating diverse books. But through them, creating bonds of empathy, respect and understanding. Kids see themselves as heroes, and also see the heroes in each other. Our task is to give them those mirrors and windows. The future they'll create together depends on it.

There are still many missing mirrors and windows in children's literature. But when passionate advocates and creators come together, I'm hopeful positive change is on the horizon. Our kids deserve nothing less.

After all, stories have power. The power to reflect each child's reality back to them. The power to nurture openness to new people and ideas. The power to shape young minds and hearts.

Let's keep fighting to fill the gaps, so every child has access to that power.

[the-way-astray]

starting to think the way you ship sokeefe is similar to the way i ship jurdan. let me explain in this far-too-long ramble.

don't know if you've read the cruel prince but for the sake of this explanation i'll pretend you have. (there's no spoilers in case you haven't. well except for. jude and cardan get together. but that's fairly obvious. it is kind of the selling point.)

like their relationship is kind of toxic! but that's kind of part of the charm? the dynamic is very much leaned into and acknowledged as toxic? but also they genuinely care about each other? and it's so cute? but also it's kinda fucked up how they started.

don't know how else to describe it like they're perfect for each other but in such a messed up way.

i ship them not in a “oh they're so sweet!!! so healthy!!! so perfect!!! this is exactly what i want in a relationship!!!” way but in a "wow they have. something there. for sure. and it's so interesting how much they care for each other not despite but because of each other's flaws as well as respecting each other for their good qualities too" kind of way.

but i think the difference is perception is all chalked up to the way they're written and the way the authors want you to perceive them.

jude and cardan are both incredibly morally gray and toxic as fuck and holly (author) very much understands that and wants the reader to understand that too. jude and cardan are not good people. you should not want to be like them or have a relationship as fucked up as theirs. that's kind of the point. they are so fucked up and that's why they're so interesting. because you can root for them and the way they embrace each other's flaws and good qualities despite knowing exactly what that means. it's almost like they see their own monster reflected in the other, and that's why they're so into each other. it makes their relationship feel more multifaceted and fleshed out, and overall i do love that series (haven't read it in a hot minute though, so if some of this is slightly inaccurate, sorry about that, lol).

but shannon clearly wants you to perceive sophie and keefe as a fluffy, cute, little teenage romance. that's the problem i have with the way they're written. i love me a good toxic, fucked up relationship with flawed people, but those flaws have to be portrayed as such, or else the entire thing just falls flat (for me). if an author includes all these flaws, but doesn't explore what that means for the relationship, and instead tries to pretend it's all fine and dandy, that's where they lose me. honestly, if sophie and keefe had been fucked up and full of flaws that shannon acknowledged and built their relationship around, i could've really enjoyed them (not saying that's really an option, considering the target age range, but hypothetically speaking). in other words, if shannon had leaned into the flawed dynamic, i think they could've been so good, not from a relationship perspective, but from a character study/writing perspective.

all this rambling is to say, i think this may be the way? you perceive sophie and keefe's dynamic? or at least the way you perceive keefe's flaws? as more of a character study into what trauma can do to a person rather than a more three-dimensional look at how it affects his interpersonal relationships or the story in general? that might be a bit wrong but i don't really know how to explain it better than that, lmfao. and honestly, that's a really interesting way of looking at keefe. it's why i said i don't hate fanon keefe, because there's so many ways to explore and interpret him that make him way more fascinating to me than whatever it is shannon did with him. but in canon, keefe's more negative traits are completely brushed over and not at all delved into, which is honestly such a shame. he could've been so interesting. it's (mostly) why i despise him in canon, or at least the way he's written.

i haven't read any of your fanfics or anything, so i don't know how precisely you see keefe as a character or as a love interest for sophie. i could be completely off the mark, but based on what you've said, i think this is it???

One of my favorite things about unlocked is seeing how broken keefe and Fitz’s relationship has become. Because yes, in the healing center scene, fitz is just trying to help and keefe is being extremely difficult, and while most of that can be chalked up to the fact that he just went through, like, insane trauma and is less okay than he’s ever been in the series (which is saying something), his narration explicitly cares more about Sophie’s feelings than Fitz’s.

Add this onto the list of things that make keefe interesting to me I suppose

[robininthelabyrinth]

Targets - ao3

- Chapter 5 -

Lan Xichen had had an extremely weird day.

The beginning of the week had gone much as it always did – the daily routine of lessons and chores, classes and cultivation – and he had been helping his uncle with sect business, just basic copying or taking down dictation since he wasn’t old enough to do more than that. He’d thought the rest of the week would go just the same way, but then a messenger had arrived and his uncle had asked him to leave. It wasn’t that unusual, there was plenty of sect business his uncle didn’t care for him to know about yet, Lan Xichen being not quite yet fifteen, so he hadn’t thought much of it.

What was unusual was his uncle’s sudden tension afterwards, and the second messenger that arrived not long after, and his uncle’s abruptly announcement that Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji would be going to visit the Unclean Realm.

Lan Xichen had initially welcomed the news – he’d become friends with Nie Mingjue years before when the other boy had spent some time at the Cloud Recesses, and he’d always hoped to go pay a long visit in return, although that hope had been dashed when Nie Mingjue had been forced to become sect leader far too soon and it suddenly became inappropriate for him to spend so much time with a junior like Lan Xichen. But when his uncle told him to go pack and he realized that his uncle planned to send him right away…that was when he started to become alarmed.

He asked his uncle what the matter was, but his uncle refused to say, and so Lan Xichen had no idea why they had hurried so quickly to the Unclean Realm. He’d been asked to fly on his sword, and when he started faltering, one of the attending disciples allowed him to jump onto theirs to ride the rest of the way – they only rested a few times, at the mid-way points, and that was already pushing the boundaries of what they could do, even though they were all strong cultivators.  After all, of the Great Sects, Gusu was the furthest away from Qinghe; it wasn’t an easy trip to make.

He thought that he’d ask Nie Mingjue to explain when he arrived, but Nie Mingjue wasn’t there. But the Unclean Realm’s protective shield was up, which he’d never seen, and they were searched and interrogated for a long while before being allowed inside. And even once they were, they were shown to certain courtyards and told not to leave.

“Brother?” Lan Wangji asked, and the mere fact that he’d broken his habitual silence to inquire that much told of his anxiety at everything that had happened.

“I’ll figure it out,” Lan Xichen promised him.

Only he really couldn’t figure out what to do next, and then Nie Mingjue returned with a positive gaggle of children, his face pale and almost visibly at the point of total qi exhaustion, and it hadn’t seemed like a good time to interrupt. Lan Wangji ended up getting swept up by the chattering children his age – the Yunmeng Jiang heir, Jiang Cheng, as well as the Yunmeng Jiang ward, Wei Wuxian, plus Nie Huaisang – and not long thereafter they were joined by Jin Zixuan, who poor Lan Wangji had ended up clinging to as the only other person not talking faster than the flapping of a hummingbird’s wings.

Poor Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen thought; it wasn’t his fault that Wei Wuxian had fixated on him, seemingly thinking that teasing and bullying were the only way to make friends – they’d tussled three times so far, and Lan Wangji was constantly turning bright red with either fury or elation or both.

For his own part, Lan Xichen had tried to make friends with the boy that was closer to his age – Meng Yao, apparently – but Meng Yao just stared at him wide-eyed and stuttered a lot and seemed very awkward, although he had explained some of what was happening: that the Wen sect had ordered the kidnapping of sect heirs, that his name had been on a list (he didn’t know why he himself had been included, especially as none of the other Jin sect bastards had been), that all the sects were preparing for war…

It had been a relief when Jiang Yanli stopped shepherding the smaller children and joined them, if only because Lan Xichen could stop feeling like he was tormenting poor Meng Yao. Who wasn’t even a cultivator, although he expressed an interest in becoming one – Nie Mingjue had apparently said that he could join the Nie sect if he wanted.

“You should,” Lan Xichen said enthusiastically. “It’s a good sect – a bit, uh, martially inclined, but very righteous, very upright. They’re good people. If you don’t think you’d enjoy cultivating the saber, maybe you might prefer the Lan sect – you said you played the guqin? We cultivate music.”

His face was certainly pretty enough to pass through Lan sect regulations, Lan Xichen thought, although of course there were other requirements.

“You would be a good fit in either,” Jiang Yanli said encouragingly. “My Jiang sect isn’t taking on new disciples right now without a recommendation, but if you start with the Nie sect and find it doesn’t suit, I’m sure you’d be welcome in any sect you chose.”

“Except Lanling Jin?” Meng Yao said, giving them both a look as they blushed and stuttered and averted their eyes. “Neither of you recommended that one.”

“Lanling Jin is a very strong sect, very powerful,” Jiang Yanli said delicately. “And, uh…Lan-gongzi?”

“I can’t,” Lan Xichen said. “There are rules in the Lan sect about talking behind people’s backs, especially maliciously.”

“Well, I certainly can’t say anything! He’s my future father-in-law!”

“That bad?” Meng Yao asked, though he didn’t look as surprised as Lan Xichen might’ve thought.

“My brother says Sect Leader Jin’s a useless whoremonger who doesn’t think of anything but wine, women, and corruption,” Nie Huaisang piped up. Lan Xichen hadn’t even noticed him walking over; he would have tried to change the subject of conversation if he had – he remembered very well what a little demon Nie Huaisang could be, always stirring up trouble. “That he’s got more bastards than fingers and toes, and that the women he gets with child are lucky if he remembers to pay them for it, assuming they weren’t forced to begin with. You’re better off with us, Meng-gege!”

Meng Yao looked at Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli, who both shrugged because there really wasn’t much to be said there, and then over at Jin Zixuan, who had trailed along after Nie Huaisang along with the rest of their little gang.

“My father’s not useless,” he said, looking uncomfortable even as he kept shooting fascinated glances at Meng Yao – who was his brother, actually, now that Lan Xichen thought about it, putting two and two together. Jin Zixuan had probably never met one of the infamous Jin bastards before; none of them had. They’d only heard about them in rumors. “And he does think of – other things. Sect business. Sometimes. That part’s wrong.”

Jin Zixuan was a good boy, Lan Xichen reflected. Far too good to be the son of a snake-tongued politician like Jin Guangshan.

“You should probably just pick another sect, though,” Jin Zixuan said, shifting from one foot to the other. “My mom – she doesn’t like – listen, she’s said some really awful things about what she’d do if any of the bastards ever actually showed up, okay? And I’m pretty sure my father agrees with her. He promised he’d throw them down the tower steps.”

“There are a lot of steps in Jinlin Tower. It’d break someone’s bones! Or neck!” Jiang Cheng objected.

“I think that’s the point,” Wei Wuxian muttered. “Meng-gege, you won’t go, will you?”

“I won’t,” Meng Yao assured him. “My mother’s coming here, so I have to be here at least until she arrives. And I think we’re all going to be here for a while, at least until the war is over.”

“That’s definitely the case,” Nie Mingjue said from the door. He looked a little better – someone must have given him spiritual energy and possibly a stimulant, possibly multiple stimpulants – though he still seemed very tired. Lan Xichen abruptly saw the point of all of his uncle’s exhortations against over-doing things. “You’re all welcome to stay for as long as this takes. I’ve cleansed the Unclean Realm of spies, as best as I can; this place is as safe as can be while you’re being targeted.”

“What about you, Mingjue-xiong?” Lan Xichen asked, anxious, because he knew, as few others did, that Nie Mingjue wasn’t nearly as old as people thought he was. “Will you have to fight?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t respond, which was affirmation. It was a stupid question to ask; Nie Mingjue was a sect leader, of course he’d have to fight. Fight the man who murdered his father only a few years before.

“I want to help,” Lan Xichen said, and Nie Mingjue frowned.

“Xichen –”

“I want to help,” Lan Xichen insisted. “Even if it’s just cutting up cloth to make bandages, or passing along messages, or something like that – I want to help.”

“I want to help too!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “Da-ge, you have to let us help.”

“I –”

“They’re our sects, too,” Jin Zixuan said quietly, and Lan Xichen saw Jiang Yanli smile at him.

Lan Xichen felt a moment of satisfaction at how they were all uniting, all acting together – and then, abruptly, dissatisfaction. “Why does Wei-gongzi get to call you da-ge?” he asked, indignant. “I’ve known you for longer!”

“It was convenient!” Nie Mingjue protested. “You can call me that too, if you like!”

“Not if you like,” Nie Huaisang said. “Everyone has to call da-ge, da-ge. You’re in the Unclean Realm now, and I make the rules here, and those are the rules!”

There was a small group discussion, after which it was generally agreed that it would be far too awkward to live together for days and days – amended to weeks and weeks after seeing the expression on Nie Mingjue’s face – while maintaining appropriate formalities, so everyone was going to call each other -gege, -jiejie, and -xiong, as appropriate, and of course that Nie Mingjue, as the eldest of their generation, would be called da-ge.

“Wen Xu’s older than me, actually,” Nie Mingjue mumbled. “Wen Qing, too, I think –”

“They don’t count, they’re Wen,” Jiang Cheng said. “The Wen sect is evil.”

“Wasn’t Wen Qing their doctor?” Jiang Yanli asked. “She was at the last discussion conference, presenting on some of her medial research. She was nice, I thought…?”

“She’s Dafan Wen, not Qishan Wen,” Lan Xichen explained. “They’re only technically a branch family of the main Qishan Wen – they split off a few generations back, but there was an accident and their parents died, so I think her and her younger brother got adopted as wards by Sect Leader Wen.”

“How unfortunate for her,” Meng Yao murmured, and they all looked at him. “I mean, if he’s as bad as you all say he is…”

“Was it an accident?” Jin Zixuan asked, and everyone looked at him. “What? Everyone says that she’s the most talented member of the younger generation of Wen sect – well, they say that when Sect Leader Wen isn’t around, anyway. It seems really convenient that the cousin who could’ve outshone the main branch got brought in so that all the accolades could go to him.”

“And we all know that Wen Ruohan likes to kill parents,” Nie Huaisang mumbled, kicking at the floor.

A moment later, as if by unanimous unspoken agreement, they all turned to look at Nie Mingjue expectantly.

“…she’s a Wen!” he protested a few moments later when he realized what they were getting at. “Even if the circumstances of her parents' death might be – suspicious – it’s still her bloodline; they share the same ancestors, they’re the same clan! She's not going to be a target - well, by them, anyway - though I suppose by the rest of us - and - and I don’t know what exactly you’d want me to do about it, anyway!”

[dienamights]

Ellipsism | K.Bakugou

Ellipsism: A sadness that you’ll never be able to know how history will turn out.

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

» Word count: 1.9K

» Genre: Angst 

» Summary: In a world where everyone is born with a unique tattoo on their ankle, and every time they fall in love with someone, their tattoo appears somewhere else on the body of the person they love. You come to the realization that it might not be as simple as that, and all your childhood dreams would come and bite you in the ass.

» Warning(s): ANGST, mentions of self-harm.

» Author’s notes: Listen, I don’t particularly like angst, but I love the way it hurts, y’know? Not sure if I want this to have a happy ending or not (in a second part) and honestly I’m leaning towards the latter, I love pain and I have no idea what would happen. Also, peep the “tattoo” in the header its relevant to the story ahaha

Thank you everyone for the support and love, it means the world to me that people enjoyed my Kacchan representation! Lemme give you smooches.

Big smooches to @tteokdoroki and @sightoru for making me feel good about hurting them🤧❤️

» Masterlist | Requests

The sun had awakened and was promptly emerging through the hazy sky. The cloudy layer created a gloomy blanket from the sun. You jolted awake, your neck aching from your sleeping position and you twisted your head side to side to relieve some of the pain, before reaching for your phone and holding the bright screen to your face to check the time. Alas, the screen was turned off without registering the time nor how long were you asleep for.

You lifted your eyes to see the grey out the window in front of you. With that fog, the trees and buildings never ended, they floated upwards, seemingly as endless as beanstalks. Reaching your head back, it met the wooden counter. You were in the kitchen, fell asleep on the floor and slumped against the counters, the empty bottle laying across from you a reminder of the event that transpired the previous night - maybe morning? You didn't really know.

You lazily extended your legs in front of you, eyeing your sock-clad feet and the tattoo that peaked from the clothing. Blooming lilacs that danced and branched out, the stem wrapping around your ankle oh so loosely, almost teasingly. Lilacs that represented happiness and tranquility, which you have never felt more far from. 

Remembering the old days, the better days, you with your poofy dress, so blindingly pink it demanded everyone's attention, giggling with your friends that adorned similar attire to yours, showing each other the tattoos that hugged your ankles, in endless shapes and sizes, dreaming about who the lucky person you’ll share your tattoo with would be, who was lucky enough to capture your heart and claim it as their own, and offering theirs in return.

Bedtime stories were your favorite quality time with your mother, where you’d both forget about the story cradled in her hands and you’d spend your night tracing the few tattoos that scattered across her arms. Asking her how could she love so many people and have them love her in return before loving her husband - your father - the only person she was meant to be with, only to wait with bated breath for an answer you already heard so many times you probably memorized it by now. You’d be entranced at the way her eyes always softened, a light gleaming in them as she would explain to you, again and again, with no sign of ever getting bored, how she have never and would never regret the people she loved, because in some twisted way of the universe, it led her to the father of her beautiful child, that snuggled her in her princess bed. 

Alas, asking her how you came to the world received a totally different reaction, and you refrained from asking her that again until later on in life.

Whenever your grandma visited, you’d run to hug her old and withered body, apologizing when she would howl about her aching back and dragging her to sit with the excuse to help her rest, but you both knew you wanted to hear stories, your teenage self was so ready to fall in love, so excited to have a piece of someone you adored with all your heart decorating your skin, inking it in the most beautiful forms of promise.

She always made her past lovers sound like prince charmings right out of a novel, the kind of guys with the power and confidence that seemed perfect in every way. The kind of guys schoolgirls woke up and went to school for in the morning. The kind of guys that hit women of all ages right between the eyes every time they were seen and stirred up their fantasies.

And by God, did you not realize that your grandmother wasn't spewing bullshit after all these years, because there he was, a storm in each step he took, fire in his knuckles erupting and seething with fierceness. He was an explosion of bare, raw, real mystery. A soft caress of the wind, warm sand, and pure silence. He was colors and textures and shapes and designs, all combined together in an artistic canvas that thrived for attention but wouldn't stoop to admitting it. 

You remembered the day your lilacs embellished his shoulder, shyly peeking through his hero suit, claiming everyone’s attention on their petals as they swayed on his skin, the attention of the media as the shoulder of the hero, Dynamight, was showcased on social media, people envying whoever was able to capture the exploding hero’s heart.

As if he wasn’t capable of love, they didn't see what you saw, they will never have the privilege, because when he dropped the façade of the hero, he’d come home to you, knock on your apartment door and you’d flee to open it to him to lay your eyes on him, a tired laugh, sore muscles, a teasing glint in crimson eyes, golden hair tasseled after a sleepless night. He was secure embraces oozing with warmth. He was toughness and hardness, perfectly mixed in with trust and care.

It was at that day it happened, in the middle of the living room while the newsman was talking nonsense about the hero, the warmth wrapped around your wrist, gripping it like a vice with no intention of letting go; yes it burned, you remembered the sting, it just paled in comparison to the warmth in your chest, the warmth of the tears escaping your eyes as you held your wrist close to your chest, happily whispering about how this was what love felt like. You also recalled that it was at that exact moment the hero, your hero, walked into your apartment, dropping everything and running the small distance to your hunched body to grab at your wrist to inspect the damage he thought was done to it.

Only for his eyes to meet that one wretched inking he loathed all his life, the - meaningless doodles, he’d call them - that blemished his skin, he remembered the remarks, how no one would be able to share that blotch of his with him because who could ever love him? Who could ever endure him, with all of that ego and all of that anger? And as time passed, he believed it, he believed them, that he wasn’t worthy to be loved, that he was only meant to save, not be saved as well, not even from himself.

But there you were, there you fucking were, crying and laughing and struggling to breath as you repeated the words you’ve been dying to confess, 

“I love you, Katsuki.”

Suddenly, that speckle that was always hidden under his socks brought him happiness, brought him love, and damn did he deserve it, because he fought for it, he endured hell for it, and there you were, wrapped around his arm and repeating those three words against his lips between heated kisses.

He was pleasure and lust. Rough groans and mutual needs. A burning touch. Your name hanging by his lips, breathless kisses and hair-tugging and hot flesh against hot flesh.

He was an illusion you thought it'll never materialize, and yet here he was. 

Here he was, all highs and lows, smiles and frowns, softness and roughness, carefulness and danger. Here he was, a tiny spark of thunder, sparkling with passion, loyalty and dedication, protection, satisfaction, confidence and love.

Here he was…

Where was he?

The inking you used to spend hours admiring now haunts you, the design that used to whirl and twirl across your wrist as you hummed while tracing it now felt like shackles, squeezing so tight against you as you tried to break free. The black almost shrouded by the coats of metallic red that spilled from your attempts of escape. The dark crimson that matches his eyes, the eyes you know you won't forget, you know you don't want to forget, no matter how you’ll feel better if you do.

The girl staring right at you through the distorted reflection created by the dishwasher judged you, all mangled and blurry, yet the tear stains and numb eyes are hard to ignore, easily cutting through the deformed reflection.

You and the girl in front of you envied your friend, the aromantic that was never interested to fall in love, only possessing their own tattoo that graced their ankle, with no one else's accompanying it, sure it looked lonely on some days, but who were you to judge?

You remembered what they always told you, that it wasn't always the fairy tales your family fed you. They told you about their mother, who had an affair and fell in love, spending almost a year hiding the tattoo of her fling from her husband before being caught, they told you how their father was broken beyond repair, he who also was so drunk on the idea of falling in love and being loved in return, just like you were for all those years. They told you of the heart break that you might have to face when your partner’s inking is embedded into you, but not the other way around, how you had to decide whether to wait for your own personal design to mark its location onto them or leave, always being haunted by the part of them that you can't get rid of, no matter what you do.

They never told you about this kind of heartbreak though, the one where you’re both so in love, so happy, destined to be together forever, because what could possibly go wrong?

You never got the answer to that, you remembered asking him as he dragged his suitcase out of the apartment, the tears cascading down his face never answered you as he apologized again and again, mumbled how you deserved to be loved by someone that wasn’t him, babbled about him not deserving you. About how he won’t ever love someone besides you when he caught your eye scanning whatever was visible of his arms, in fear of finding out a piece of someone that wasn't yourself.

You finally got up, legs numb and steps wobbly from sitting on the floor for so long, you eyed the door, still unlocked after his leave a couple of hours ago - maybe more it's still unclear - no urge of yours strong enough to get you up to lock it again. You moved slowly, as if the shuffle of your feet is causing you pain, and in a way, it did, because you know when you reach the living room couch, there won't be the warm arms that engulfed you, because what else did you have other than the warmth you surrounded yourself with when you told him to hold you close to him?

That's right, nothing. 

As you laid down on the couch and allowed yourself to be suffocated by the scent of caramel, you cursed at all the fantasies and dreams that clouded your mind day and night, you frowned and scrunched your nose at the scent that used to mean love and warmth, but now only burnt your nose and teared up your eyes.

A constant reminder, just like the defaced wrist you brought closer to inspect and hissing when the cold air bit at it. You recalled the lilacs and swore at them, the same lilacs that symbolized love and passion, but looking more withered and torn the more you looked at them.

Good, guess they know how I feel.

Borrowers (taglist):

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡