#adorn itself with something beautiful. something it genuinely has a love and appreciation for.

[moe-broey]

I HIT. IMAGE LIMIT. ON THE OTHER MANI POST. Really important visual guide though.

[inviberu]

music box

Confessing was no easy thing, especially for someone like Heath who could barely take a compliment without his cheeks burning red. When someone suggested he should give a gift instead, the gears inside his head started to turn. The most beautiful gift of all is one that comes from the bottom of one's heart—the question is: what was it?

Heath didn't know how to express his feelings without getting too many butterflies in his stomach to the point that he has to bend over to calm himself down or without tripping over his words and forgetting everything he planned to say. His cheeks would flare up and he would tear his gaze away from your figure as he told himself inside his head: "Not today, maybe not tomorrow either…."

Faust could barely stand the way Heath kept on backing out at the last minute during his decisions to finally confess his feelings. Faust pushed up his glasses and crossed his arms with a stern look on his face as he sighed. Heath sat up straighter, hoping that Faust wasn't about to scold him about something related to missions, unaware that Faust called him to his room to talk about more… personal matters instead of their line of work.

"I know there's a lot of stuff going on inside your head, but you shouldn't let it affect you when you're doing missions." Every word that came from Faust's lips was a lie to disguise his genuine concern for his student—roundabout, as a lot of Eastern folk are. Upon seeing Heath's face contort into one of slight panic, Faust immediately followed up with a question: "What is it that's bothering you anyway?"

Another lie. Faust already knew well what the source of Heath's worries is but he'd rather have Heath be unaware of the fact that he's been paying attention to him. Heath glanced down, a light hue of pink dusting his cheeks and Faust could already tell what this was about even if he hadn't known about Heath's countless attempts to confess to you before.

"Faust-sensei… do you know how to confess to someone?" Heath's unexpected question caught Faust off guard, his eyes widening in surprise before letting out a small cough after regaining his composure.

"C-Confess?" Faust tried his best to play dumb. "Like those love confessions?"

Heath nodded slowly, "I've been trying to confess to someone for a while now but… I keep on getting scared at the last minute. It's like the fear of being rejected suddenly walking up behind me and grabbing my shoulder."

"... You're a wonderful young man, Heath. I doubt there's anyone out there that would reject you" Faust closed his eyes as he tipped his hat slightly, trying his best to reassure him.

"Plus, you'll never know the answer unless you go for it." Faust chuckled, a smile forming on his face. Heath's eyes twinkled all of a sudden and felt his enthusiasm bounce back up as he grabbed Faust's hands into his own—Faust's expression slowly turning to one of discomfort.

"Then… Can you help me?" Heath asked hopefully.

"Me…?" Faust exclaimed, his glasses almost dropping down.

"W-Well only if you want to! I wouldn't dare force you to help me against your wishes..."

"I suppose I can try… I can't guarantee anything, of course." Faust agreed reluctantly and Heath beamed, his smile widening in happiness as he said his thanks to the Eastern teacher. "Well, first of all, if you find yourself unable to speak in front of them… don't you think there's a better alternative rather than confessing in person?"

After all this time, Heath had always tried to confess to you upfront and had never bothered to consider any other options until Faust brought it up. Heath wanted to curl up and bury himself six feet under at the sudden realization, feeling as if all this time spent was just used for needless worrying.

"Like a letter of sorts?" Heath asked carefully. Faust shook his head and merely answered his question vaguely.

"Something that comes from the heart." He pointed towards Heath's heart. "You're good at craftsmanship, aren't you? Why not make good use of that?"

A few days had already passed since Faust made that remark—living inside Heath's brain with no signs of leaving soon. A letter would've been easier but after taking it into more consideration, as well as Faust’s words, he decided to give it more thought. What was another alternative? A gift instead of a letter, perhaps? Heath ruffled his hair, deep in thought as he sat on one of the cushioned seats inside the lounge.

“Heathcliff?” A voice called out, snapping Heath out of his daze and adjusted his vision to the person in front of him—the northern wizard, White. Curiously, he asked, “is there something troubling you? Won’t you allow this old man to help if so?”

“Sir White… it’s nothing important, I appreciate the offer though.” Heath shook his head, trying to brush off White’s offer as politely as he could. White merely crossed his arms, nodding his head before a smug and knowing smile took over his face—as if he already knew what was troubling Heath without having him say anything.

“Ohoho… it’s about the matters of the heart, is it not?” Bullseye. Heath felt as if his heart was about to jump out of his chest, unable to hide the surprise evident in his expression. White didn’t wait for an answer, for he already knew he struck gold—he let out a laugh. “It’s written all over your face! A young man falling victim to love… is what your expression is saying.”

Heath covered his face by instinct, horrified at the newfound information that it was written all over his face. He wished he could keep a poker face like Lennox, perhaps that way he wouldn't be so easy to read—unaware that was precisely one of his charming points.

“Haha… is it that obvious?” Heath muttered weakly, burying his face into his palms and White only chuckled at the cute display. “Sir White, do you know of any good gifts fit for a confession?”

White rubbed his chin, deep in thought. A fitting gift for a love confession—one would normally think of something like flowers or sweets as if it was valentine's day, that was the textbook answer, though when White glanced at Heath and remembered his knack for machinery and the likes, he suddenly remembered of that one era that had a specific trend.

“It's a bit old fashioned but back in the day, music boxes were the trend. Why not make one with music that reminds you of your beloved? Wouldn't that be perfect for someone like you?” White beamed, smiling as if he gave a groundbreaking piece of advice. Heath’s eyes widened ever so slightly with his mouth agape as he thought about his words; music boxes were indeed old fashioned as you wouldn't see it normally these days.

“Me…? Make a music box?” He has never tried it before, especially not for a special someone, though he was confident he's able to make one if he tried.

“Ohoho, you’re good with machinery, are you not? Why not put those skills to use to make a heartfelt gift?” White nodded enthusiastically. Heath couldn't help but get lost in his thoughts, already trying to figure out how he was going to construct one—it seems like the young master has already figured out which gift he should give.

Heath spent his days holed up inside his room by his desk, materials sprawled all over with chunks of wood littered around after he had carved the finest wood he could get his hands on after returning to the East for a short while. A focused look adorning his face as he drowned out the noises surrounding him, immersed in his craft.

Countless music sheets were crumpled and thrown to the bin at the side which was overflowing with scrapped pieces—music pieces. Heath was no expert like Rustica when it came to music composition, he had left his seat several times to consult the Western Wizard in order to make sure the music wasn't disappointing and was able to convey his feelings, somehow.

He planned to leave the box and a note anonymously, though he already suspected it wasn't going to be very discreet as he started carving the box with the same carving he engraved into Shino’s magic tool. One look at it and you would be able to guess who did the carving, for it was named Blanchett for a reason.

He added the finishing touches, blowing the small particles of dust away that remained in the corners before opening the box as a sweet, soft melody started to play—its gears turning as it played music flawlessly. Heath smiled at the music box he created, proud. He put all of his feelings of adoration for you inside one box, only revealing itself if you decide to open it, akin to Pandora's box.

As if reciting his last prayer, he clutched it tightly as he muttered his spell under his breath before standing up and deciding to leave it by your doorstep—this time, he'll let you know of his feelings.

As he arrived at your doorstep, he quietly wished that you weren't inside your room because that would make things complicated as Heath already felt like he was doing something scandalous. His cheeks burned red as he quickly dropped the music box as well as a small note before knocking once and scurrying off back to his room where he could finally put his mind to rest.

You opened the door, greeted by no one but a mysterious box and a small note that didn't indicate whoever sent it to you for there was no name. Without much hesitation, you picked it and inspected it—the intricate design catching you off guard as you recognized it as the same one present in Shino’s magical tool. And the one who made it was none other than Heath himself, that only meant one thing—Heath was behind this mysterious set-up. You felt your chest bubble up in excitement, an uncontrollable smile forming in your face as you felt giddy.

You opened the note, it read: For you have captured my heart, I offer this gift to you.

You felt your heart leap at the words you read, scanning it once again to make sure your eyes weren't playing tricks on you, cheeks heating up as you realized what this meant. You quickly opened the box, not expecting a few blue butterflies to come out and fly around you as a soft melody played from it—a music box Heath made just for you. You could feel his magic from the box, did he imbue his magic? You suspected as much.

The longer you listened to the music, the more you felt like running to his room to tell him you felt the same way. There wasn't a single thing stopping you from doing so. With a determined look on your face, you started heading towards his room. Fortunately, you saw him walking in the hall, it seems like he hasn't arrived in his room yet.

You took the opportunity to jump at him, his arms instinctively wrapping themselves around you, panic was written all over his face when he realized it was you who threw themselves at him. With the proximity between the two of you, you placed a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose. His heart felt like it was about to explode.

“W-What are you doing!?” He grabbed you by the shoulders and tried to push you away in an attempt to calm his racing heart. You smirked as you felt like teasing him more, though the huge smile on your face was unfitting as you told him:

“You could've told me in person… but, I like you too, silly!”

[readyplayerhobi]

Jung Hoseok and the Magic to Happiness | 04

; Hufflepuff Teacher!Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, future smut

; Word Count: 5.2k

; Synopsis: An unexpected issue with your Ministry of Magic job leads to you taking the role of Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts. It’s here that you meet your best friend’s younger brother for the first time in years, the Hufflepuff Head of House, Jung Hoseok. While you contend with seeing him once again, Hoseok tries to show you that he’s very much a man and no longer the gangly teenager you once knew.

; A/N: I swear, it’s so hard getting back into writing because I’m permanently convinced that everything I write is bad lol. If you enjoy reading this, please let me know by leaving me an ask or writing a comment on a reblog! I appreciate all the comments I get and it helps to inspire me on <3

Last Chapter ; Next Chapter

-

The Winter Solstice Ball was a newer tradition at Hogwarts. Before the Battle of Hogwarts, there hadn’t been anything resembling the ball that would happen. The closest you knew of was the Yule Ball, but that only occurred whenever there was a Tri-Wizard Tournament. 

Something that hadn’t occurred since the unfortunate events of 1994, when poor Cedric Diggory had been murdered by the dark wizard Voldemort. As expected, it had been mutually agreed that the tournament should no longer continue to ensure there could never be another event like Diggory’s death.

Admittedly, that had been a rather unique set of circumstances. The inclusion of the wizard, Harry Potter, in the Tournament had been arranged by dark wizards on the behest of Voldemort, meaning that Diggory’s death had been even more tragic as he wasn’t meant to be there. 

In an attempt to bring more cheer to what should be a happy holiday, Hogwarts had started the Winter Solstice Ball tradition. Unlike the Yule Ball, all years were invited to attend and it also wasn’t on Christmas Day. Instead, it was held on the last day of term and was just a fun event for everyone to enjoy and let off some steam after their first semester back.

You’d always enjoyed it as a student; feeling like a grownup during the first few years and using it as a great way to flirt with boys when you were older. There hadn’t been a year that you hadn’t loved going to it.

It felt a little odd this time though as you were attending as a professor, which meant you had the job of chaperoning all the excited students for the evening. As such, you were excited for an entirely different reason as you would get to watch the First Year’s experience of the ball.

The House Elves had gone all out when decorating the Great Hall today, bringing the feeling of winter inside and taking your breath away. Standing by the open doors, you look around cavernous space with wide eyes and a bright smile. Chaeyoung was next to you, a dress of starlight gracing her body and highlighting just how beautiful she is.

You’d already complimented her as soon as you’d spotted her, admiring the elegant design of her dress and how the tiny crystals are sewn into the fabric reminded you so much of sunlight hitting frost on a winter’s day. Her long black hair was curled into soft waves with her fringe pinned away from her face with a delicate snowflake.

Where she was all light and ice, you were the sumptuous darkness of winter. Your dress was a sumptuous royal blue around your chest which slowly blended into deep midnight by your feet, a shawl of the lightest chiffon in a dark blue around your shoulders. Silver glinted occasionally, threads of it woven through the fabric of your dress and adding a little sparkle alongside the dainty silver necklace around your neck.

The two of you made a striking pair and the combination of a full face of beautiful makeup combined with the jaw-dropping dress made you feel like the prettiest girl in the room. Whether that was true or not, you didn’t care.

The hall itself matched the colour scheme of you both with long swathes of gauzy fabric in rich lavender, crisp white and shimmering silver decorating the tall windows and streaming from the ceiling. Tonight, the ceiling had been enchanted to show clouds backlit by a full moon and tiny flakes of snow fell. They didn’t reach the ground though, melting away a few metres away from the tallest person in the room.

Candles lit the room in all corners, hovering in the air and situated around the room and the tables. A large open space in the centre of the hall was reserved for dancing while a raised section before it hosted the musical entertainment for the night. Small tables surrounded the floor, each only big enough for six people and with white cloths embroidered with tiny snowflakes in silver.

Platters piled high with finger foods dotted the tables alongside empty goblets and jugs of pumpkin juice and butterbeer. A few of the ghosts that haunted Hogwarts floated through the tables, greeting the formally dressed students with cheer and getting into a few conversations with some of them.

Already the hall was filling nicely, students greeting you happily as they rushed inside to meet up with friends and a few of them had already begun to dance. Some of them danced together, trying to figure out how to ballroom dance with the typical awkwardness of teenagers discovering their hormones, and others danced in friend groups. The latter seemed to just be having fun, shaking their bodies wildly to the beat of the music.

“I remember doing that.” Gesturing towards a group of mixed house Fourth Years, you grin at Chaeyoung before chuckling at the memory of dancing like that with Jisoo, Robert and Candace. That had been your ‘group’ of loyal friends throughout your years at Hogwarts, though only Jisoo had remained a close friend once you’d all left.

“Merlin...me too. I had no rhythm back then. Still don’t. Dancing is not for me.” Chuckling, you lean into her and push until she staggers away from you a little before returning the gesture. Glancing around the hall, you note the more introverted people sitting at the tables and sipping at drinks. They don’t seem to be uncomfortable but you resolve to check up on them throughout the night to make sure they’re okay.

“One thing I do love about working with such handsome men here? They make the ball so much better to enjoy.” Chaeyoung hums over the top of her goblet of butterbeer, her refined brows rising in amusement as she looks across the hall. Following her gaze, you have to hide a smile as you take in the sight of some of Hogwarts most eligible bachelor professors and how well they smarten up.

Park Jimin is standing next to Kim Taehyung, his silver hair styled even more elegantly than normal while his dress robes look to have been perfectly tailored to his slim body. A white bow tie adorns his neck and he’s smiling at whatever Taehyung had told him. The Gryffindor Head has his usual boxy smile and you note that he scrubs up just as nicely. Together, they make a lethal pair in terms of looks.

“Now, now,” You muse lightly, looking over to Chaeyoung with mischief on your face. “We’re here to chaperone, not to swoon over good looking men like the teenagers we teach.”

A derisive snort is the only response she gives you, but you see that she’s not taken her eyes off the two younger men. Idly, you wonder which would make the perfect partner for her. You’d consider Taehyung to be a good candidate as their fun-loving natures would get on well, but there’s something about Jimin that makes you think he’d be an even better pick.

She wouldn’t even have to change her last name.

Any more thoughts you have on the subject vanish when the newest professor walks through the door. Black hair made darker from some kind of styling gel is swept up from his forehead, a strand or two falling stubbornly and giving him an almost charming appearance. Deep black robes sweep from his shoulders, covering up a suit that highlights his body in all the right ways.

Unlike Jimin and Taehyung, his outfit was completely black and you swallowed instinctively as you let your eyes run down his frame. Hoseok pauses at the doorway, pink lips moving as he talks to Nayeon, the divination professor. She looks pretty in a floaty dress of bubblegum pink and fizzing lilac, her smile genuine and eyes sparkling as she looks up at him.

Lips twisting, you turn away from the sight and don’t even notice the way Chaeyoung is watching you closely, her lips turning up in a smile she tries to hide. Looking away from you, she catches Seokjin’s questioning expression across the hall and nods at him subtly, enjoying the way the astronomy professor gets a determined look on his face.

“Speaking of men who are too beautiful to be real, Jung Hoseok always looks so good at these events. How is a man like that allowed to even exist?” There’s a breathy note to Chaeyoung’s voice, causing you to frown at her a little before looking back over in his direction. 

Nayeon is still standing there, a forlorn expression gracing her face as she watches Hoseok move away from her. It’s only then that you realise he’s walking towards you, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. Confusingly, you’re a little unsure of what to do or how to act.

Not when he’s looking like that. This is not the shy and awkward Hoseok with his dress robes too big for him, the only memory you have of him at the Winter Solstice Ball. He couldn’t be any further from that teenager and you don’t know how to handle that.

Especially when he gives you that breathtaking smile, his cheeks rising and dimpling while his dark eyes shine in delight. You should’ve known the Jung genes would result in him growing into an attractive man; his sister was one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen.

“Y/N, Chaeyoung,” He bows his head to you both, that smile just as prominent and you nod back to him a little awkwardly. “You both look beautiful tonight. Winter is personified with your colours, it’s nice.” 

For a moment, you’re a little lost for words on how to respond to him. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d been so casually complimented, especially from a man. A man as attractive as him. It causes you to swallow wrong and you cough loudly, pressing a hand to your throat.

“Thanks, you’re looking pretty fine yourself tonight,” Chaeyoung teases him, causing that smile to become a little more bashful. “Anyway, I’m going to leave you two alone for a moment, okay? I need to go talk to Seokjin about something.”

You watch her go with wide eyes, noting with suspicion that she’s moving a little faster than you’d expect and you wonder if she’s up to something. But then you realise that you’re being left alone with Hoseok, who’s casually looking you up and down while you’re attention is elsewhere.

It’s only when he catches your eye when you look back, a brow raised, that he realises you’ve caught him. Hoseok turns his head quickly, probably giving himself whiplash and you have to hide the snort at the soft blush on his cheeks.

He may be all grown up now, but he still reminded you of that shy boy who never quite knew how to talk to you.

Reaching out, you poke at his chest and grin at him.

“She’s right, you are looking good tonight. Cleaned up very well.” Hoseok gives you a droll stare and you laugh, feeling any awkwardness rushing away as you both fall into the easy-going nature of your friendship.

The rest of the evening goes by in much the same manner with the two of you separating on occasion to handle issues with students or just to do a walk around. Apart from that though, you both end up spending more time with each other than with anyone else. Conversation flows easily like a fast-moving river and you find yourself laughing more than you have in a while.

You only have to break up one fight between two young boys; the culmination of weeks of tension between the two finally bubbling over. It starts with raised voices before escalating to blows, resulting in you escorting the two to Madame Pomfrey to check for any injuries. After that, you leave them in the hands of Park Jimin to discipline them given their house.

When you get back, you look around for Hoseok or Chaeyoung. You can’t see either of them, causing you to take up a place at the back against the wall to observe for any fallout from the fight. Thankfully, the mood seems to have picked up and you wonder if that’s got anything to do with the more upbeat music that’s being played.

It was never nice watching your students get into fights with each other or lose friendships, but you knew that was part of growing up. The thing about teenagers, and kids, was that they were incredibly resilient. You did not doubt that they would both be back to being friends within a week or so.

“All sorted?” Comes a deep voice to the right, the sound closer than you expected and causing you to jump slightly. Turning to look, you note that Hoseok has turned up out of nowhere and you relax at the sight of his familiar face.

“Yeah, no injuries to each other apart from wounded pride and friendships.” That causes Hoseok to snort and roll his eyes, leaning back against the wall alongside you. Suddenly, you recall how many times Jisoo complained of having to comfort her brother when he’d had yet another fight during his tenure at Hogwarts.

“I’m sure you know all about that, Mr Jung. I remember Jisoo having to deal with you. You were shy but a firecracker.” He sighs deeply and you lean into him, giggling as you regale him with some of the tales she’d told you. Thankfully, he takes it all with his usual good nature and you end up segueing into other memories of your time at Hogwarts.

The exams and the studying, the professors back then and your favourite subjects. It’s something he already knows as you’ve both discussed it previously, but he indulges you and listens amiably while keeping an eye out.

You’re stopped though when he suddenly interrupts you, straightening slightly.

“Would you like to dance? There’s not as many people out there now and you haven’t danced once tonight.” His question is abrupt, causing you to falter in your conversation. Narrowing your eyes, you look him over closely and wonder if he’s being serious. And you conclude that he is.

Looking over at the dance floor, you contemplate for a moment and chew your lip before nodding. Now it’s your turn to feel shy, avoiding his gaze and trying not to catch the eye of anyone else in the hall as he leads you carefully to the floor. 

There’s probably a few statues in the British Museum that are less stiff than you as you turn to him, feeling his hand as he settles it on your lower back. You’re hyper-aware of that hand; how hot it feels against you even with the fabric of the dress between you. But that pales in comparison to the feel of his hand against your own, the way he holds it almost tenderly.

Logically, you know that he’s doing that because that’s how you’re supposed to dance like this. A light touch, but it makes you feel a little strange. You’re not sure why it makes you feel like that and you find yourself staring at his long fingers, wondering if he kept up the piano he’d been taught when younger.

The music leads you both in the dance, each beat dictating where you move and you’re vaguely aware of the students dancing around you. None of them are staring or looking confused as there had been many professors who had danced together tonight. But you couldn’t help but feel like this dance was a little different.

This was the closest you’d ever been to Hoseok and his body is so close to your own that you can physically feel the heat coming from him. Every breath you take brings the smell of him into your nose, the familiar mix of rich wood and lemongrass that is so, undeniably Hoseok. And underlying all that is the smell that’s unique to him.

“Is this okay?” He asks quietly and you stare at the black button-up covering his chest, avoiding his gaze given how close the two of you are. It’s probably not the best thing to do when you realise that shirt is straining a little and you can see the outline of his torso from the light of the nearby candles.

Swallowing hard, you look over his shoulder and try to ignore the sudden knowledge that Hoseok is buff beneath his clothes. Which doesn’t help, because you find your eye trailing down his chest as you consider. It’s only when you reach his belt buckle that you suddenly look away, taking a deep breath and wondering what was wrong with you.

You’d had one too many butterbeers tonight or something, which was a terrible excuse as it had such little alcohol content that it didn’t even matter. This was Jisoo’s brother, her little brother. Not someone you should be thinking about half-naked.

Right?

Finally, though, you register his question and nod quickly in response. You’re not sure that you can talk to him without saying something inappropriate as your brain isn’t working very well right now. Not when you’re so confused about...well everything.

“Are you sure? You’ve gone a little weird. Quiet.” Hoseok murmurs, his voice low to avoid any of the students overhearing it. Sighing, you stand a little straighter before looking at him directly and giving him a firm smile. It takes a little more effort than you’d like to push away those errant thoughts but you do so.

“Fine, just worried about those students. I hate seeing their friendship ruined and them angry at each other, you know?” It’s not a lie as you are still concerned about them, but he doesn’t need to know everything going on in your head. Which is why you’re thankful when he nods slowly before spinning you around.

“They’ll be okay. I’ve been doing this job long enough to know that they’ll be back to being friends sooner rather than later. They’ve already got some of that testosterone out by punching each other, which I’d rather they didn’t do but Jimin will talk it out with them. Don’t worry too much, they’ll be fine.” It’s sweet how considerate he’s being and you can hear how genuine he is in his voice. 

You don’t get to say anything else though as the tempo increases when the song switches over, causing Hoseok to twirl you away from him with a laugh. All around you the dances start to get a little more energetic and you can’t help but shriek with joy as he matches the student’s enthusiasm, listening to them as they cheer at two of their professors getting involved in the frivolities.

Neither of you notices the way Seokjin and Chaeyoung watch you both closely before smirking at each other.

-

Glancing around the room, you note how most of the students had already left and gone to bed for the night. The clock had struck midnight a while ago and you had to press a hand to your mouth as you yawned, turning your head away to be polite. A few remaining students were still dancing on the floor but even as you watched, some of them started to walk towards the exit.

Looking over at Chaeyoung, you caught her eye with a wave and smiled with relief when she nodded and made a shooing gesture. Turning to Hoseok, you tried to hide another yawn and almost giggled when you saw that he’d caught one from you, his mouth wide as he didn’t even try to hide it.

“I think we can go now. Chaeyoung gestured that we can leave so I think they’re going to hustle the last students to bed. Something which I’m also very excited to do because I feel like I’ve been awake for two days right now.” Blinking and almost trying to stretch your eyelids by widening them as far as you could, you almost missed the way Hoseok laughed at your antics.

“Tired? It’s not even two in the morning, I expected better of you.” He teases, gently pushing his elbow into your arm before avoiding your hand as you try to swat him. You’d admit that he looked a lot more awake than you did, which you’d say wasn’t fair but you don’t think you’ve ever truly seen him look tired.

“Well, you’re still young and spry. You’ll learn when you get to my age.” Moving off towards the doors of the Great Hall, you grab a tiny triangular sandwich from one of the remaining platters on a table as you pass by.

Light pressure on the small of your back causes you to arch slightly, your chest moving forward and you tilt your head to look at your companion. There’s no expression on Hoseok’s face, nothing to indicate he’s affected by touching you and you frown slightly as you wonder why it’s affecting you.

“You’re not old, I don’t know why you keep thinking that.” He murmurs, voice deep and quiet.

Neither of you says anything more for a few minutes, instead just walking quietly through the hallways. It’s a comfortable silence and you muse for a moment on how much you’ve come to enjoy spending time with him. You would happily say that he was your closest friend here at Hogwarts; something you would’ve never thought would happen when you were studying here and he was just your best friend’s little brother.

That makes you think of how defensive he always gets whenever you, or anyone else, seems to imply that you’re old. Huffing out a laugh, you bite your lip as you contemplate that for a second. Maybe he doesn’t like the implication that you, and by extension, his sister, are considered ‘older’ by the students. Or that he’s also approaching thirty.

The student’s opinions have never bothered you as they think anyone over the age of twenty is old. Nor have you been concerned overall, given the extended lifespan that witches had compared to muggles. You were finally feeling content with your career and your life, something you attested partly to growing older and becoming more at ease with yourself.

But he always got so defensive of it, so maybe he was concerned about himself.

“You don’t have to keep defending my age, you know,” Apparently you were going to query this with him and you blamed the butterbeer for loosening up your tongue. “I’m okay with it, honestly. Which means I’m okay with joking about it.”

Hoseok stiffened slightly and you spotted his expression looking a little uneasy. Frowning, you placed a hand on his arm and pulled him to a stop. Your quarters were only a few corridors away now and the two of you were given a warm glow from the candles lit nearby. 

“I’m not defending...I mean, okay maybe I am. I just...I don’t want you to feel like it’s an issue.” Now you’re giving him an amused look, lip quirked up on one side as you try to hold in a small giggle.

“It’s not an issue. Have I made it seem like it was?” Tilting your head, you watch as his eyes dart across your face in an almost shy manner.

“No...well, not in the way you might think,” He looks uncomfortable and you’re about to tell him it’s okay, that he doesn’t have to continue but he does so before you get the chance to speak. “I’m just made every aware of our age difference. You know, the whole ‘you’re her best friend’s little brother’ thing.”

“Hey, I don’t do that, do I?” Now you’re a little concerned.

“No, not really. Not for a while anyway. You did when you first got here but I understood that. We hadn’t met in a while and everyone was curious about how we knew each other. But now...I don’t even know what I’m talking about. Honestly, it’s not important. You’re right.” Hoseok’s babbling a bit but you decide to let him change the conversation. You’re not entirely sure why it truly bothers him, but you’re not going to press it anyway. He deserves to have his feelings and they don’t need to be analysed.

“Okay-” Before you can say anything else, you hear the quiet chiming of bells and frown in confusion. The sound echoes a little in the empty corridor, simultaneously creepy and also ethereal. 

Hoseok looks around as well, his brow knitted in confusion before he suddenly spots something about you both. Following him, you note the odd plant that’s grown from the ceiling out of nowhere. The green branches are still growing and you note with interest the small white berries that seem to be forming and familiar leaf shapes appear at the end of each branch.

A red ribbon is delicately wrapped around the stems and you see the little golden bells that let out tiny chimes as they rock from side to side in a non-existent breeze. Now you’re the one frowning as you look around you both, trying to spot who’d set a mistletoe charm to grow when someone walked beneath it.

“Mistletoe?” Hosek whispers, reaching up with one hand in an attempt to touch it. He can’t reach it and you sigh, shaking your head and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Someone has thought it’d be funny to put mistletoe charms around the castle for the ball. Certainly adds to the Christmas spirit. I’ve seen these popping up all night above couples on the dance floor. I think it’s a seasonal Weasley thing, seems like something they’d sell to annoy people.”

The mistletoe is suddenly snowing, letting tiny snowflakes drift to the ground around you both and leaving fluffy snow to settle on Hoseok’s hair and dress robes. How very romantic, you muse to yourself.

“Does it just disappear on its own after a while?” He asks, running his fingers through his hair to try and get rid of some of the snow. Smiling at him, you gently brush at his shoulders only to decide it’s a losing battle as more snow lands.

“Nope. You gotta kiss, that’s the whole point of mistletoe, right? Otherwise, it follows you around.” Hoseok sighs deeply and rolls his eyes.

“Of course it does. Definitely a Weasley thing.”

Looking back up at the mistletoe, and having to blink to avoid getting snowflakes in your eyes, you purse your lips before looking back at Hoseok. You’d long since come to terms with the fact that you find him attractive; anyone with eyes can see that. But you hadn’t planned on doing anything about it, not given who he was and who his sister was to you.

His words from earlier play through your mind though, and you wonder if he hates having to constantly know he’s given the best friend’s little brother status. Even now, months after you’d arrived and you considered him a friend, you knew that there were still people who thought of that as the most defining characteristic of your friendship.

Letting out a little sigh, you straighten your shoulders before reaching out and taking hold of his dress robes. Fuck it, you’re not one to waste a perfect chance.

Pulling him closer, you watch as his eyes dart to yours and widen when he realises that you’re moving towards him as well. And then those same eyes flick to your lips, the movement so fast that you’d almost miss it if it wasn’t for the fact that he did again only seconds later. 

Combined with the zero resistance he was giving, you came to the solid conclusion that he wasn’t going to reject you. Not when you were giving him plenty of time and reason to back out if he wanted to.

Tilting your head to him, you felt his warm breath as it caressed your face, the smell of butterbeer strong. And then your lips are pressed together, neither of you sure who made the final move and neither of you gives a damn at that exact moment. 

The pressure of your lips against each other is gentle at first, almost hesitant as both of you try to figure out where to go from here. All that was required was a kiss, which was what you were both doing right now. But you didn’t quite want to let him go just yet, not when you knew he probably had so much more to offer.

Shifting, you manoeuvred your way into a position that made the kiss a little more personal and no longer like two teenagers who’d never kissed in their life. Letting go of his robes, your arms move to wrap around his neck and you run your fingers through his hair, enjoying how soft the black strands feel against your fingers.

A quiet noise leaves Hoseok, his arms sliding around your waist to pull you a little closer to him while he kisses you more forcefully than before. It feels...you can’t even find the words to describe how it feels, only knowing that you’re not entirely sure you want him to stop.

Any hesitation has disappeared between you both and you simply lose yourself to the delightful feeling of Jung Hoseok against your lips, against your body and how he feels under your fingertips. It’s only when he moves a little further, his tongue asking for entrance to fire up the kiss even more, that you suddenly come to your senses.

Pushing back from him, you stare with wide eyes and only just realise that the bells have stopped. A glance up shows the mistletoe is gone and you breathe a little heavily, not realising that you’d kissed him that forcefully until now. Hoseok looks just as out of breath with an odd look in his eyes that you can’t quite figure out.

Licking at your lips, and trying to ignore the knowledge that you could probably taste him right now, you run your hands down the front of your dress robes before giving him a slightly awkward smile. Coughing, you turn your eyes away from the strangely intense gaze he’s giving you.

“Erm, well it’s gone now. So...we’re not gonna be followed by mistletoe anymore,” Playing with your fingers, you wonder if you made a very bad decision tonight. “I, erm, I’m gonna go to bed now. It’s late and...well...yeah. Thank you, for walking me here and spending time with me, you know, dancing and all that. It was nice, I had a good time and thank you. Yeah, I already thanked you. Err...get to bed safely, okay? I mean, I…” 

Hoseok reaches out and takes hold of your nervous hands. It makes you jump nervously, but he just gives a reassuring smile while rubbing the back of your hands with his thumbs.

“Y/N...it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. Go to sleep and have good dreams.” There’s no annoyance in his voice, no anger or outrage that you’ve gone from initiating that kiss to acting very strange in only seconds. 

“Yeah...I...you too. You too.” Frowning as you walked away from him, you wondered what in Merlin’s beard you’d just done.

[kissme-hs]

Amie {c.e}

Here is the fic I mentioned in the noon. I genuinely felt pain whilst writing this. And this is one of the writings that is very much close to me. I hope you enjoy it and if you do please reblog. Feedback is appreciated - Ria xx

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: this is just sad.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Every little girl dream of that one dream that will be the highlight of her life. Walking down the aisle while the love of her life awaits. The dream to be finally loved without any conditions would come true and just like every other, the little girl in you dreamt the same.

So, you smile, a little running your hand over the fabric of your dress. Taking a look in the mirror you admired yourself. The anxiousness you felt was beyond compare than any you ever felt. Your heart thumping louder with every passing second as the time went by getting closer to the ceremony where the vows had to be exchanged, promises had to be made and two souls were to be tied together and forever.

You took a deep breath staring at your reflection in the big mirror. You eyes searched for the answers that only you seek until he appeared behind you. Hair brushed back, dressed in a black tuxedo with a smile adorning his face making you fall in love all over again.

Giving him a subtle smile, you turned around and fixed his tilted bow.

“You ready?” He asked as you shook your head with a slight laugh.

“Are YOU ready? You’re the one getting married, not me” You replied swallowing the words that cut through your throat. You rested your hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat as rapidly as yours. The only difference was, his was beating with joy, happiness and excitement while yours beat with sorrow, sadness and the grieve of losing someone you loved so dearly.

“She won’t say no, would she?”

“No Chris, she loves you” he had no idea about the betrayal that he was facing unknowingly, where he thought his dear friend was happy for him, his decision, the woman he was about to get married to, lied the real truth of feelings far from his thinking. How could you be merry? How could you be rested peacefully knowing that the man you ever loved, who you ever felt yourself with, who held your hand and never left would now be someone else’s.

Though he never truly was yours, but deep in your heart lied a place where he nested warmly, as yours.

His face lightens up with those words that left past your lips, which made him happy but destroyed you completely. And oh lord how you wished you were the one waking beside him every morning seeing him smile for the rest of your life.

Jealously wasn’t what you felt. But pity. The feeling of pity was stronger than what one would call jealousy. You heart was pitying itself; it was pitying you. Why did you have to be the bigger person? If you told him the day he was crying in your arms, when his insecurities was feeding off him like a dementor, his heart clenching with the feeling of being unloved after seeing his friends getting married and having kids, that you loved him, and no not as a friend but more than that.

More than a friend could ever love, more than anyone could ever love him maybe that day you would’ve changed everything. Maybe it could’ve been you today to whom he would exchange his vows but no you didn’t. Not wanting to take advantage of his broken emotions you stayed quiet. Only whispered what he wanted to hear, not what you wanted to tell him.

And if you had the chance, you’d tell him, pouring your heart out how about you loved him. How every morning you’d wake up with a smile on your face just because how lucky you were to have him in your life, even though it was only as a friend. How if he gave you the chance, to hold his heart, close to you, you’d never leave. You would tell him how you would cradle his heart so gently that all his broken pieces would mend together and ease the pain.

But you didn’t, instead, you suggested he goes out with your friend, now who was soon to be his wife.

You smiled through pain looking down at your fingers at you seated in the front row. He asked if you’d stand with him but you denied. The pain would be unbearable, you needed to be there for yourself when you see it happening. Toying with the ring in your finger a tear dropped on the metal.

It was a gift from Chris which he got from Japan.

“This is to keep you safe. I cannot be there for you always physically so this will protect you. I love you way too much to lose you, ever” Were his words before he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead. And your heart ached knowing how he didn’t mean it the way you wanted to.

Friends. You laughed at the word. Friends don’t do that. Maybe they do, but were you even his friend anymore?

Your heart dropped to pit of your stomach when you heart the music go on. They opened the gates making each of the guests turn their heads and gasp. She looked breathtaking, a perfect match for Chris. She matched his height, his personality, as if god made her just for him. But you couldn’t look at her for more than 5 seconds. Her beauty was suffocating you so you closed your eyes.

A thing you’d do as a kid to hide yourself from the world wasn’t actually hiding, but closing your eyes thinking no one could see you and you were safe. So, you shut them down. As tight as you could forgetting how hard it she making it for you to breath. But closing your eyes wouldn’t stop her from walking down the aisle now would it, and so she did.

You opened them to see Chris’s hand reaching out to take her hand from her father’s and you swore you wanted to run away. Why were you torturing yourself? Simply because you were his friend.

And time went on. Not stopping for anyone, no one and you couldn’t care. You wanted it to go, as fast as it could so you it wouldn’t feel as painful. But just before they could proceed further the and priest asked;

“If anyone has any objection from these two tying the knot of this pure relation then speak now or forever hold your silence”

You swore the time stopped and he looked at you. Chris. His eyes searching yours for an answer that maybe he wanted to. It seemed as if he wanted you to speak, wanted you to get up and confess your love that you’ve been holding for so long, and jesus you’ve never had the urge to do something so badly as you did now.

You wanted to scream and shout and cry with every inch of your body and every cell that made you who you are, you wanted to cuss him for being so blind for not seeing the love you had in the palm of your hand for him to take only to find it in someone else’. You wanted to yell how unfair it was that you were the one who held him through his dark days and you’re the one who made him smile when he forgot how to yet he decided to choose someone he’s known only for 6 months and not someone he’s known for three years.

You wanted to tell him how big of a douche he was for crying thinking no one ever loved him when you did. All this time. All along. Always.

But you didn’t.

Swallowing whatever was left in your mouth because it ran dry you gave him a nod. The same nod that you gave him when he was leaving to propose his love. The same nod that you gave him when he was about to tell her he loved her so much. The same nod that tells him he’s doing the right thing.

His eyes crinkled with the smile he passed you. Too blinded by the joy that overshadowed your miserable state he turned his attention to his bride satisfied by silence as an answer to the old man’s question. Or so he thought silence was the only answer when he couldn’t hear your cries and your pain.

And as the ceremony proceeded, you called it quits.

Picking up the remaining broken shattered pieces, ever so carefully making sure you don’t cut yourself too deep you left in the silence you came in.

But that’s what love is.

It’s not about picking the flower because you want it, it’s about letting it bloom because you love it.

[sombreboy]

Mused obsession (1)

Written by @sombreboy​ as Jungkook & @chimoona​​ as Jimin Banner by @carly-bean-blog​​

[ masterlist ]

⇢Explicit (18+) ⇢Pairing: Jungkook & Jimin ⇢Genre: yandere, smut, mxm ⇢Word count: 7.4k ⇢Ch.warnings: (Does sexual tension count?) None.

Industry famous Jeon Jungkook of GJK photography takes an interest in a model and up-and-coming fashion designer, Park Jimin. After an opportunity to study the man behind his trusty lens, he thinks he may have just found his new muse.

Jimin shifts in his chair to find a comfortable position. He’s about half an hour into hair and makeup and already itching to get in front of the camera. It’s day one of promo shots for a clothing line he’s actually passionate about—his own. He’d come far in his career, gaining traction for his unique look and alluring personality. Now it was time to get the recognition he deserved, as a model and a visionary. He powered through a couple solid years of being a nobody, doing whatever gig got his foot in the right door. Today is the beginning of his new chapter, a rebranding milestone. He only hopes he has the right crew to make his vision a reality. 

Jungkook is a famous photographer, widely known for his brand name ‘GJK’ within the industry. Having a photoshoot with him was rare to come by, not because he is difficult to reach, but because he is extremely picky with whom he works with. Only the best of the best gets his lens pointed at them, and it just so happens, Jungkook found Jimin among many possible clients to work with.

The fashion itself wasn’t exactly what Jungkook cared for, but he had to admit that it was eye catching, fresh, and modern. However, what truly caught JK’s eye was the man behind it all, Park Jimin. He looked deeper into who this man was, and was impressed with how he’d worked his way up from nothing to where he’s at now, Jungkook himself being a large stepping stone for the young man.

Kook could see himself in him in a way, having worked his way up by being dedicated to his hard work, and at his young age—being known as the highest profile photographer in the industry.

He’s busy, setting up the studio lighting, making sure his camera is in place before roaming the room, one hand held out as his staff brought him his banana milk. A guilty pleasure. He hates coffee—but loves overly sweet drinks.

‘‘Where’s Jimin? Shouldn’t he be here by now?’‘ JK glances at his staff, who bows in apology and makes their way to call for the model that it was time.

Jimin’s heart pounds in his chest at the shaky sound of his name being called by a spooked PA. 

“Showtime, Sir,” she mutters. “Mr. Jeon doesn’t like to be left waiting.” 

The makeup artist snaps to attention and gives a final spot-check for imperfections while the hairstylist fluffs his soft hair for a “just woke up” look. 

“Who’s running the show here?” Jimin asks quietly, feeling a little cocky, but not enough to ever say it in front of the high-profile photographer. The man makes him nervous, he hates to admit. He’s still trying to wrap his mind around how he scored Jungkook for his promo shoot, but didn’t think to ask out of fear he would back out. Jimin admires Jungkook’s tenacity and work ethic, despite being the younger of the two. He had to make sure everything was perfect, knowing very well how he liked his subjects to be of visual perfection and grace. “Please tell him I’m on my way.”

Jungkook sighs when the PA comes back with the news, sipping his artificial drink with one hand firmly placed on his hip. His eyes roam the room, making sure everything is the way he wants it. Normally, the staff would do the work, but being picky as he is, he prefers to set everything up himself. That way, if something wasn’t up to par, it was all on him.

‘‘Alright everyone, when he arrives, you know the rules. I want utter privacy.’‘

Jimin steps into the studio, dressed in his first look—a clean form-fitted blazer and tight black jeans, paired with genuine leather ankle boots. He didn’t want gaudy accessories but couldn’t resist slipping slim silver rings over his delicate fingers to match his signature silver hoops. His public persona until this point has been very bubbly and light—the typical boy next door. Now he wants to flip the industry on its head and feature an aesthetic of dark neutrals with metallic accents.

He was too busy smoothing over his blazer as he approached Jungkook to realize it was just the two of them. When he looks up, he notices just one set of eyes staring back. No PAs, no stylists. Just the undivided attention of Jungkook as he sipped his sugary milk. 

“Oh—uh...hello, Jeon. I appreciate you taking on this project at such short notice,” he nods politely, reaching out a hand to shake. “Is the staff off for lunch? Will they be returning?” 

Jungkook glances down at Jimin’s delicate hands, observing the small rings adorning them. He was a man of detail, taking notice of every single piece the elder was wearing, the colours, even how every strand of his hair was placed. Letting his gaze dissect the man for a moment, still sipping his drink, he finally releases the straw with a pop as he reaches out to take the smaller hand in his. Call him rude, or maybe socially awkward, but instead of a normal handshake, he simply pulls the hand closer to his face to inspect the jewelry.

‘‘No, I asked them to leave.’‘ Jungkook simply states before releasing Jimin’s hand, ‘‘I prefer to work with my clients in privacy.’‘

Jimin swallows audibly, watching the photographer as he inspects his hand. He didn’t find it odd that he was engrossed in his appearance, however, a shiver ran down his spine at Jungkook’s reply. A new wave of anxiety washes over him at the revelation they were alone and would remain that way for the duration of the shoot. 

“I, uh, I see,” he says, eyes roaming over the younger’s meticulous setup. “You never cease to amaze me, Jeon. You think you can handle this all on your own?”

With one eyebrow raised, Jungkook tilts his head as his eyes travel back up to meet Jimin’s.

‘‘Do I think I can handle this on my own?’‘ He repeats softly, a smile pulling on the corners of his lips. He brings the straw back into his mouth before motioning with his hand for Jimin to follow him onto the set, pointing towards the spot which he wants the elder to stand on. He turns around, waiting for Jimin to follow his silent instructions.

In the back of Jimin’s mind he couldn’t help worrying how it would all turn out. He has a lot riding on this, yet he knows Jungkook is a man of his word. His portfolio is anything but defamatory and unprofessional. He truly is an artist of taste. On top of that, Jungkook’s calm and nonchalant attitude was surprisingly alluring, easy to follow. 

“I hired you for a reason,” Jimin replies, belated, “I trust your judgement.” After stepping on his marker, Jimin takes in the ironed backdrop and pristine lighting structure. Jungkook seems to be more than prepared without assistance, which puts him at ease. 

Jimin falls into his role of model, standing in contrapposto with his shoulders held back proudly. “How would you like me?” he asks, staring into the photographer’s dark umber eyes. They caught him by surprise, how focused they were on his every movement.

Jungkook’s eyes never wavered from him, observing every single movement of his. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t entranced by the elegance that oozed off of the elder. His movements were so delicate, as if every step had purpose. It made him smile.

‘‘Just stay like that.’‘ Kook threw his finished drink to the side before getting behind the camera, able to properly focus on every detail through the lense as he adjusts his angle. The man in front of him is photogenic, that’s for sure. He’s gorgeous. Before Jimin was even ready for the shoot to begin, the sound of the camera going off a couple times echoed; JK withdrew a bit to check how the first series of photos turned out with a content expression.

This is one way that he likes to do it to warm up, to see how the model would react to his sudden actions. Would they be anxious? Would they get mad? Or something completely different?

Jimin pushes his hair back with his ring-clad hand, getting lost in the moment. It’s flattering to see just how eager Jungkook is to begin. Granted, his rapid test shots are more than he’s used to. He’s always ready to adapt to a new situation. 

He runs through his series of standard poses, leaning into them harder because it seems to please the younger man. If he’s enthusiastic about the process, Jimin is positive it will shine through in the final product. 

“How is it turning out?” 

Jungkook removes the camera from the tripod stand he originally intended to use, staring down at the screen on his camera while flipping through the images,

‘‘It’s okay.’‘ He nods to confirm his own words, checking before bringing the camera back up in front of his face and snapping another photo of Jimin while he was speaking. He went back into his own world of checking his latest photograph, a nodding hum in thought as he stared at it. 

‘‘The camera loves you.’‘ 

As Jungkook thought, this man truly was photogenic, and the fact that he knew how to be on camera only made the photos more beautiful. Even if he wasn’t prepared for his latest shot, it turned out to be his favourite photo of them all. His eyes fell back on the elder before he spoke. 

‘‘Grab that chair and sit on it, please.’‘

The flash of Jungkook’s camera caught Jimin off guard while he was mid-speak, but it must have turned out well. It brought a smile to Jungkook’s face as he stared down at his display screen, endearing bunny teeth peeking out from his rosy lips. He must be going for a specific style, trying to capture the feel of his clothing in a candid moment. 

God, he really is a genius. 

At Jungkook’s command, Jimin pulls over a chair and sits on it, draping his arm over the back casually.

Jungkook approaches by a few steps, crouching on the floor as he points his camera towards Jimin. This time he gives him an opportunity to be ready for the photo. However, before snapping the photo, he whispers out a few words with his sweet voice.

‘’You’re a beauty,’’ –To trigger a reaction, whether it might be a smile, a face of shock, or a pair of furrowed eyebrows, he loves to spur expressions that weren’t simply a model’s pout. Of course, he would need a few photos like that, but this part of his session was his favourite. It was like a little game, and Jimin was fun to play with so far.

Jimin’s nerves skyrocket as Jungkook compliments him. He’s used to photographers giving praise, but this felt very intimate as the younger’s voice was sweet and seductive. Then again, he probably just read the gesture incorrectly. Jimin is beautiful and he knows it well. It shouldn’t feel odd to hear those words pass Jungkook’s lips. Jimin stares back at him wide-eyed, mouth parted, trying to calm his nerves. 

Why is Jeon making him so nervous?

“Uh, t-thank you,” Jimin replies weakly. He looks around the room to read the crew’s expressions but is quickly reminded that he’s all alone, aside from the man on his knees, just a short distance away now. “That’s kind of you to say,” he confesses, cheeks warming. He swivels one of the silver rings around his finger until he can focus again. He’s probably reading too far into it.

Jungkook takes note of every little detail of Jimin’s expressions, movements, even the small stutter rolling off his plushy lips. It’s cute, he was definitely worth his time. He inches closer, getting a nice low angle of the beauty. The way the light bounces off the apples of the elders cheeks truly come into view, along with his small hoop earrings shining.

‘‘I bet there’s not a single angle you can’t pull off, Jimin.” He uses the model’s name casually, as he normally would any other client. But this time it felt a little more intimate, the way ‘Jimin’ felt on his tongue as he worded it out. He never wanted to stop saying it. However, there’s a job that needs to be done, whether he wants to play or not, so he continues to find various angles before standing back up. ‘‘Good job, now, let’s move on to the next look. Your stylists are waiting.”

Jimin hurriedly walks to the back room to change, a sigh of relief escaping his chest to see that the next outfit was laid out and ready. On his lean frame, it looked devastating. Head-to-toe worn black leather with silver trim and sparkling crystal accents, pulled together by a thin raw leather choker. “I almost want to steal it off your body,” the makeup artist comments, “it’s not fair you look this good!”

Jimin smiles back, fluffing his hair. “Maybe after the shoot. We need to get it on camera first.” 

The artist dabs a pretty red stain on his plushy lips and gives it a little gloss to shine under the lights. “He’s perfect,” the lead stylist confirms, waving off the others. She prompts him to enter the studio alone, which he does with confidence. 

His boots click on the hard floor, announcing his presence. He found himself expectant of how Jungkook would react.

Jungkook changed up the lighting a bit, dimming it ever so slightly to get a darker effect, knowing Jimin’s next theme would be something a little sexier. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was just how well Jimin would pull off the look. But then again, he really should’ve been.

Kook’s eyes widen momentarily as he sees the elder stride in; the echoing sound of his boots giving his aura an amplified effect of power. It’s such a contrast to the previous outfit.

“Wooow,” Jungkook can’t help but let his jaw fall open with a smile, not hiding how impressed he is with the look, clapping his hands together in a childish manner, “I like it, I like it!..” His hands remain clasped, approaching Jimin to circle around him, inspecting everything from the diamonds to the small choker on his neck. Without hesitation, he reaches out to brush his fingers against the material.

Jimin hadn’t put much thought towards the banana milk, but the animated way Jungkook clapped at his arrival just added to the photographer’s rare childlike mannerisms. It counterbalances his stern professional side and warms Jimin to see. 

“My photographer approves?” Seems so, especially by the way the younger’s long fingers graze his choker, tickling his neck with goosebumps. “I’m pleased I could deliver.” His eyes scan the dim room to find his mark. “Where would you like me for this portion?”

Jungkook’s eyes subtly fall on Jimin’s lips—the glossy red looks really, really pretty on him. He was pretty sure Jimin could be a doll, prettier than every single male and female he’s ever worked with. A joy for his camera lens. 

Withdrawing his hand from the choker, he delicately grasps onto Jimin’s wrist with one hand and his camera in the other before he guides him towards the second area of the studio, prepared for the darker theme. It was prepared by a large window ledge, painted in black like the walls around that specific area to give it a gothic vibe. This was also the very reason he’d chosen for the shoot to be done late in the evening, as he did not want any sun from the outside while doing this certain photo. Call him meticulous, but he just wanted things to be done his way.

“Sit on the ledge.”

Jimin allows Jungkook to guide him by the wrist, gradually becoming comfortable with the tactile way he likes to work. Jimin does as he’s told and sits, crossing his legs to rest an elbow to his knee. 

“This really goes beyond what I expected, Jeon,” he says, neck craning to take in the entire scene. “Do you put this much detail into all your projects or am I just a special case?” He smiles at the younger, trying to lighten the mood before he transitions to his dark persona.

Jungkook brushes his dark locks away from his eyes, bringing the camera up to check the scene through his lens.

“If you’ve seen any of my work, you’d know.” He says with a low voice, aiming to keep the elder on his toes with his comments. Kook knows he’s of a higher profile, and sometimes that makes people act cautiously around him—he finds it hilarious. 

He snaps a few shots of Jimin, satisfied with how effortless his beauty is. These photos are almost erotic, and that was just by looking at his face.

“Slide the leather jacket down your shoulders and keep it that way,” Jungkook instructs once more. He had simple requests, but they changed the entire photo.

Jimin smirks at Jungkook’s comment. 

Cocky, isn’t he? 

Of course he’s familiar with his work—he’d be living under a rock if he wasn’t aware of Jungkook’s tastes. His change in attitude catches Jimin’s interest and pushes him to deliver facial expressions and casual poses he’s recognized as the photographer’s preference, using his knowledge to his advantage. When he’s asked to bare his shoulders, he does it seamlessly, letting the fragrant material rest against his biceps. 

There’s something about this outfit that brings out his confidence tenfold. He hasn’t even seen the photos but he can already hear the positive reviews from competing fashion critics. In this setting he feels now more than ever that it’s his time to shine. 

“Is this edgy enough?” He asks, knowing Jungkook would be the right one to judge. With affirmation shining in his eyes, Jimin is ready to show the world what he’s capable of.

“Bite your lip.” He instructs again, a smile on his lips as he manages to get some really, really, gorgeous shots. 

This guy is ethereal. 

As the elder did as instructed, it sort of did give Kook a sense of…power. He’d never actually admit it though, it would be unprofessional… But, he likes this. He hasn’t enjoyed a photoshoot as much as he’s enjoyed this one—probably ever. He really doesn’t want the session to end.

But like any other, it was bound to happen. 

It’s late. So, Jungkook finishes off his last closeup of the choker part of his outfit before letting his camera fall, caught by the band attached around his neck. His eyes are glued to Jimin, a content sigh pushing through his lips, 

“That’s a wrap. We’re done for today.”

~~~

Back in the dressing room, Jimin peels himself out of his clothing, reflecting on the day. He’s positively elated by the way everything turned out, desperate to get on to the next set and see what Jungkook prepared for him. After experiencing the younger’s 5-star treatment, he knows he made the right decision in hiring him. A seasoned photographer like Jungkook was exactly what his team needed. He only hopes the feeling is mutual, and gets a sense that perhaps it was. 

“You’re a beauty”— Jungkook’s own words repeat in his mind over and over, making his heart throb at the memory. The praise meant a lot coming from his lips, not only because of his prestige but because he too was incredibly beautiful. It probably wasn’t the wisest thing to think of his photographer, but he couldn’t help noticing. Tonight, he doesn’t think he’ll get much sleep, too excited for the next round.

The feeling is indeed mutual, Jungkook feels so satisfied with how his photos turned out, unable to contain the way his body almost vibrated with excitement while he was seated in the studio. 

The staff slowly came back, breaking his previous privacy to ask how the photoshoot went. All Kook gives them is a wide grin, which definitely serves as more than enough of a response—considering the way he’s always been quite the odd guy.

Everyone slowly starts to wrap up and go home for the night, however Jungkook remains at the studio, already preparing for the morning by taking down the current setup. Everything is done with Jimin in mind. He won’t be able to sleep anyway, rarely does—if the dark circles adorning his eyes are anything to go by. 

Some would say it suits his look.

~~~

The next morning, Jimin started his day like any other, but with more urgency. He took a brisk shower and awakened his smooth skin with a coffee mask and soothing cream. There really was no room for error, and Jimin felt the pressure mounting, knowing that the studio was already set and waiting for his arrival. It didn’t help that his morning copy of Fashion Times magazine had the largest photo of Industry Genius Jeon Jungkook staring deadpan into the lens as if to say “My time is money. I’m waiting.”

~~~

Having a session during the evening and continuing the following morning could be seen as hectic, but to Jungkook, it’s perfect. He can’t imagine having to wait longer than necessary to work with Jimin again.

Slowly, staff came early to help with the rest of the preparations—not that it needed much, Kook had done it all by himself during the night. 

He starts his routine with a drink—the sugary mixture—his favourite way to start off the morning as the PA places it in his hand.

“Jeon, did you even get any sleep? Your eyes…” The PA hesitantly asks, worried for his health more than anything.

“I’m great,” Jungkook ignores the question, a content smile on his face as he brings the straw to his mouth. He gives a thumbs up towards the PA, “Thank you for the drink… Also, when is Jimin coming?” He glances down at the expensive clock adorning his wrist. He was getting impatient, even if Jimin technically had time left to get ready.

Jimin appeared at the makeup artist’s station fresh-faced with an iced Americano and fluffy hair. He sat and let her work her magic as he caffeine reinvigorated his muscles. 

His first look was going to be on the soft yet sultry side—eyes framed with a slightly smudged layer of eyeliner and wisps of peachy pink eyeshadow. It would compliment the lighter spectrum of his collection, with touches of stark white juxtaposing the reoccurring dark neutrals and metallics.

In his mind it represents his old self and the self he hopes to be. The patterns and shades don’t clash—they create depth to his character. He can hear the wardrobe stylists fawn over his first outfit as they steam the fabric to perfection, giving him the boost of confidence he needs to approach Jungkook’s set. If yesterday was any indication of the photographer’s commitment to the project, Jimin was in for a shock. 

Jungkook is on his second drink by now; the sugar is very much needed after all the hard work he spent figuring out the set for the first outfit. To start, he wanted to keep it plain and simple, a metallic background to put the focus on Jimin entirely. But– no, it wasn’t good enough. Now, the idea he went for wasn’t revolutionary per se, but the way he set it up could be. He prepared a separate, smaller room by decorating every single inch with mirrors in different angles. Ceiling? Mirrors. Walls? Mirrors. Floor? You got the jist of it. Mirrors.

Kook had an additional idea, but he wasn’t sure whether or not to go for it yet. He wanted Jimin to shatter the glass– but he wouldn’t make the elder do it if it was deemed too much.

The younger was excited, anxious to see how Jimin would pull off his next look. It was almost unhealthy, the way the JK already felt like there was nothing else he could think of than Park Jimin and his beauty.

‘‘Noona!’‘ Jungkook whined as he strolled out of his mirrored room to find the staff, ‘‘Time?’‘

The way he whines is almost childish, however, the PA used to it. She knows this means his patience is running low, but merely out of excitement. His dark circles indicate hard work, and he wants to finish what he started.

“He’s on his way, Jeon.”

Just then, Jimin’s familiar footfalls echo off the studio walls. 

“Just this way,” another PA instructs him, bringing him into Jungkook’s view. “Follow him into the mirrored room. That’s where you’ll begin.” Jimin nods and follows him into the small room, intrigued by her words. He wasn’t sure what she meant, but it really was a mirrored room—top to bottom, mirrored fragments, deliberately placed. 

“Oh my—“ It was all he could muster, overcome with wonderment, seeing every angle of himself in the blink of an eye. “H-how did you—“ He turns to face his photographer and instantly notices his sleep-deprived state. His shining doe eyes narrow under dark lids, still alert despite his lack of rest, but visibly affected. Did he sleep for even a minute last night? 

“Jeon, I’m breath-taken, honestly. This is just absolutely stunning.” He can’t stop looking at Jungkook as he inspects the room and can’t decide whether to comment on his appearance or carry on. He decides the latter, respecting his process.

Jungkook’s smile widens at the praise, his bunny-like front teeth on full display, nose scrunched up, “Thank you.”

He moves to shut the door behind Jimin before placing his hand on the small of his back, guiding him towards the wall. Kook’s eyes wander over the puzzled pieces of glass, doe eyes sparkling at the sight. He turns his attention towards Jimin, his smile falling back into a more neutral expression.

“This is a very special shoot, Jimin. This will be the breakthrough concept. But you have to trust me…” Kook pauses to sip the last of his drink, shaking it lightly to confirm that it was indeed empty. “Do you trust me?”

Jimin nods. The words ‘breakthrough concept’ is exactly what he wanted to hear. He’s dying to know what the visionary has in mind, and almost thinks to order a banana milk for himself to keep up with his pace. 

“I trust you,” he confirms. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

Jungkook’s hand reaches to brush a stray hair away from Jimin’s forehead, putting it properly in place before grabbing the camera that was hanging around his neck.

“Okay. First, I need you to look at the ceiling, at yourself, with sadness and frustration.” He takes a few steps back, angling the camera to his liking. “Then, you can improvise if you’d like… A few of these shots are needed. When we’re done, we will move on to the climax of the concept.” He peeks over his camera to make sure Jimin is keeping up with his instructions—a smile on his lips growing when, of course, Jimin kept up. He was made for this and followed Kook’s orders perfectly.

There’s not a moment of hesitance from Jimin as he falls into a rhythm. It was odd at first, looking at himself, seeing his own expressions as they formed on his face. Sadness, frustration, shock, anger—it was all for the climax he patiently awaited. 

He caught Jungkook’s pleased smile in his peripheral and knew his plan was falling into place. As odd as the photographer seemed, he exuded a sense of comfort and understanding that Jimin hadn’t felt in any of his other partnerships. 

He discovered exactly what Jimin wanted with very little direction, almost expounding upon a base concept and unfurling it like a flower. Jimin got on his knees, arched his back, contorted his body to discover disjointed versions of himself that made the clothing pop. When he was finished, he looked up at Jungkook with tiny droplets of sweat gliding down his bare neck. 

“How did I do?”

Jungkook almost had a dumb look on his face. He was in such deep focus, observing the small droplets of sweat glistening on Jimin’s flawless skin. His grip tightened around his camera without realizing, veins popping underneath his tattooed skin.

“Beyond expectations,” He finally replies. His tone might’ve seemed too neutral, but he meant it. Slowly, he starts walking towards the door to leave the room, but before he does so, he glances over his shoulder at the elder.

“Short breather. I’m gonna grab what we need for the next part. ...Want something to drink?”

Now was his chance—“Banana milk,” he replies, breathlessly. He had never tried the stuff. Never had the desire. However, the way the younger sucked it down made him more than curious to try. “I’m parched.”

Jungkook nods, a little surprised that Jimin would want banana milk. It’s a very sweet drink, and every single one of his staff often questioned how he could drink such ‘pure artificial sugary crap’—of course, not to his face.

He left the room, leaving Jimin by himself for a few minutes as he approached the mini fridge placed in the middle of the mess of his things, filled with his favourite beverage. He grabs two, whistling casually while grabbing the prop he needed for the next step in his photoshoot...A sledgehammer.

This was going to be the best part of it all.

Jimin stands to his feet and walks over to one of the mirrored walls. He dabs at his glistening sweat, readying himself for the grand finale. He almost stepped away to ask for a touch up from the makeup artist but heard Jungkook approach the doorway. A chill of excitement cooled his burning blood at the sound of a metallic clang.

Jungkook waltzes in with a smile, the two beverages in his hand and a sledgehammer in the other. His muscles strain, veins popping on his lower arm as the muscles flex. He carefully places the tool on the floor, letting it lean against the wall before approaching Jimin, handing him the banana milk.

“I’m surprised you asked for this drink, anybody else would simply ask for an iced americano.” But he was pleasantly surprised, nonetheless, curious as to what the elder would think of his favourite thirst quencher. He didn’t pay attention to how it probably looked when he walked in with a...hammer, but he surely will be anticipating the response when he finally asks him what to do with it.

Jimin swallows his first sip and shivers when the artificial flavour hits his taste buds. 

“It’s great,” he lies, “love this stuff.” 

He took another sip and let the creamy liquid pool in his mouth, beginning to savour the sweetness. It would take some getting used to, but he was already beginning to feel the effects. Just like the photographer, it grew on him. 

He’d become so engrossed in the beverage that he didn’t even process the sledgehammer Jungkook heaved into the room. In fact, he was a little too distracted by the younger’s strength to notice what he was carrying. The way his muscles flexed did not go unnoticed by the model. Not at all. 

“Wha—,” He chokes, swallowing another mouthful. “What’s the hammer for?”

Jungkook was emptying his drink at an inhuman speed, the slurpy noise of him sucking the straw until every last drop is gone serving as a childish reply until he puts it to the side with a lopsided smile,

“That depends if you’re willing to do it,” He counters, keeping the mystery for a mere moment. He’s intrigued, excited to see what Jimin would do about it. He seems strong enough to handle it, but just in case he’d picked a slightly less heavy version of the tool. Kook approaches the hammer once more, picking it up with one hand before bringing it over to the elder,

“I want you to hold it up, like this,” He grabs the hammer with both hands, demonstrating the motions of swinging the tool, ‘‘And shatter the mirrors!’‘

He turns back to Jimin, offering the sledgehammer for him to take.

“It will be extraordinary. What do you say?’’

Jimin takes the tool into his hands, feels the weight of it, turns it over and inspects it closely. His upper body strength isn’t matched to Jungkook’s but the hammer is light enough to swing, even for him. It seems a little dangerous, but what kind of impact would this project have if it didn’t involve a bit of danger? Jimin took a couple practice swings to make sure he was capable. Once he’s comfortable with the motion, he smiles at the photographer for confirmation—“Get ready, Jeon.”

He’s almost vibrating with sugar-fueled energy, harnessing it to throw the first blow. He jumps back and watches the mirrored shards fly across the room. It’s…liberating. He starts to feel weightless, drunk on power as he swings the hammer, posing between blows. Down to the floor, against the wall and back down to the floor. He demolishes the room until he’s completely exhausted, on his knees, sweat gleaming off his angelic face.

Jungkook didn’t utter a single word throughout, merely fixated on the moment, snapping image after image of the scene unfolding in front of him. He was in complete awe, as if in a trance. Jimin was absolutely perfect for this, and it went beyond his expectations, above anything he could’ve ever imagined. The glass flying as it shattered, surrounding Jimin like glitter—sparkling due to the flash of Kook’s camera.

As Jimin sank down to the floor, this was the absolute perfect ending to the collection, the elder shining in sweat, cheeks glistening with his eyes closed, a complete divine angel captured on camera. Jungkook had to put his camera down when he was finished and adore the scenery with his bare eyes, roaming the room with his gaze until they fell back on Jimin with a lopsided smile.

“Felt good, didn’t it?”

It felt...he feels... Jimin can’t put it into words. His hands shake from the adrenaline coursing through his veins; heart beating in his ears. He wants to feel like this every day—high on endorphins, full of courage. He nods in agreement, eyes still closed. 

“You’re a fucking genius, Jeon Jungkook.” That’s how he felt. Every bit of effort the younger put into this project only made Jimin more drawn to him. 

When he pushed him out of his comfort zone, it only solidified an inseparable bond Jimin began to feel forming. He opens his eyes and looks up at the photographer, matching his smile with a dazzling one of his own. 

“May I see the photos?” If they turned out as well as he imagined they would, there’s no way he’s letting him go.

Jungkook smirks at the praise, approaching the elder as he towers above him, eyes still just as fixated on the blonde. From this angle…Jimin is almost delicious…no, he definitely is. Shrugging his thoughts away, he offers a hand to help the man below him to get back up on his feet.

“Follow me then, we can sit outside of this room, because—well, glass.” He smiles, guiding Jimin with him with one hand, camera in the other to guide them towards the couch that had served as a prop. He slouches down on the soft cushion without second thought and pulls the camera up, flipping all the way back to the very beginning where Jimin had just walked into the room—photos that weren’t part of the shoot. Just, the look of wonder and awe in the elders' eyes was too good not to capture. “Come sit.”

Stick tacky with sweat, Jimin pulls off his jacket and slings it over the couch arm. He takes a seat next to Jungkook and leans in close to see the screen. His heart rate maintains a strong pace as he’s a little distracted by their proximity. He focuses his attention as the younger begins flipping through the camera and gasps, gawking at the shots of him walking onto the set. 

“I didn’t even think of doing a behind-the-scenes!” Even off-set, the photo composition is pure art—light illuminating his face and clothing stunningly. He leans in closer to see the fine details, balancing his hand on the younger’s firm thigh. 

Jungkook presses his lips together tightly—Jimin wasn’t supposed to see those photos. Honestly, they were more for him than the actual shoot. He just really likes the way Jimin looks when he’s not aware of the camera...

“Yeah,” He breathes out, pretending that they were indeed for the shoot, relieved that the elder did see them as behind-the-scenes.

Once Jimin got closer, feeling his petite ring-clad hand on his muscular thigh, Jungkook’s breath stopped. He let Jimin look through the photos, mindlessly flipping through them for him. Kook’s focus was somewhere else entirely—fixated on how beautiful Jimin was this up close. 

Jungkook inhaled deeply through his nose, catching the scent of the elder; sweet, with a hint of the musk of a tiring session. It was stirring something inside of the younger that he knew was already there, an interest...A very intense interest.

“Jeon?” Jimin grips his thigh to get his attention, pressing his rings into the taut muscle. “Hey,” he laughs, eyes narrowing to focus on the screen, “Slow down, yeah?” 

Jungkook was cycling through the photos a little too quick for him to keep up. All Jimin could see was the first flash of his garment or a close-up of his face before they were onto the next set.

Jimin looks up at Jungkook and notices he’s barely even looking at the screen. His eyes keep wandering to Jimin, looking him up and down. Jimin’s eyes flick to his, then down to his lips which are bitten raw and parted. Jimin wets his lips at the sight, becoming all too aware of how close he is and how hot he feels under the photographer’s gaze. 

“Jungkook…what’s wrong?”

Jungkook’s dark eyes quiver as they meet Jimin’s, blinking hard once, then twice until he’s brought back down to reality. 

How is it that he is so enchanted by this man? It’s ridiculous. 

Kook bit the inside of his cheek, feeling the blonde’s rings digging into his thigh did nothing but feed into his growing infatuation with the man. Because that’s what this is, right? Infatuation? It must be.

“N-nothing, nothing’s wrong…” He stutters out his words, gripping onto his camera as he skips to the last scene, trying to avert the question any further. The images are of the mirrors surrounding the angelic model just moments before he shattered them. Kook leans in closer to Jimin to show him properly, his own smile growing at the perfect visuals. “What do you think of these?”

Even in their raw format, Jimin falls in love with the photos. The multi-dimensional element that the mirrors provided made it look as if he was appearing and disappearing at the same time. It wasn’t until he began smashing the mirrors that Jimin came into focus as one complete person, surrounded by fallen shards. 

“They’re absolutely perfect,” he breathes, catching a glimpse of Jungkook’s shimmering eyes. His lithe body presses against Jungkook as he studies the final shot. He feels him inhale sharply at the contact, tensing even more. 

Based on how intimately the photographer captured him in those last moments of their set and how he stuttered earlier, Jimin gets the sense he may be teasing the kid. It wasn’t his intention; he can’t help the way he looks. He also can’t help the way Jungkook looks—childlike innocence, masked by deep lust. 

“Do I make you nervous?” Jimin asks, plump lips curling to a timid smile.

The grasp around his camera tightens, and he’s sure that if the material wasn’t of such quality, it would burst like an apple in his hands. A short breath pushes through his lips; a breath he wasn’t even aware of holding until Jimin’s smile forced it out of him,

“No…” Jungkook isn’t nervous, but he won’t easily admit his growing attraction to the elder. Flustered, perhaps? Or, something like it...

To continue to avoid the question, he turns off the camera and shuffles away a bit, giving himself the much needed space between their bodies. It’s too much, he isn’t used to feeling this gravitation towards somebody else.

“Good,” Jimin replies, smiling wider and straightening his damp white shirt. “You’ll need to have nerves of steel if you’re going to accompany me to my mini fashion show tomorrow.” He nips his bottom lip at how cute the photographer is being, shying away so quickly after his question. “I do hope you’ll come, it wouldn’t be the same without the infamous Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook straightens his posture, head turning to look at Jimin with raised eyebrows. Oh, right—he was informed about this, but he had almost forgotten. But only because he was informed about this before even meeting the angelic man next to him. Now, he definitely wouldn’t miss the chance of seeing this show,

“I’ll be there,” He simply confirms with a small smile. Before he’s able to say anything else, his PA approaches, telling the two of them that it’s time to wrap up. 

It was done, their partnership was done. Now, it was fine for the real work, Jungkook had to perfect the photos before sending them in. Even if, in his own opinion, they could be used in their raw state, he knows there are pieces that need to be polished into his perfection. 

He turns to Jimin once more as he stands. “You did great...It was a pleasure working with you.” 

And he hopes—no, he knows he has to do it again.

~~~

Later that evening, Jimin fusses over prep for the following day, moisturizing his flawless skin and pressing his suit for perfectly clean lines. It was going to be a short show, but the turnout was predicted to be A-class. The industry’s most trusted brand ambassadors secured seats to the event, not to mention a handful of fellow celebrities. He had to be fully prepared to present his line with passion and charisma—practicing in front of the mirror until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

When his body couldn’t keep up with his mind, he flopped onto his bed half-clothed, drifting to sleep. Running the promo shoot and fashion show back-to-back was a tiring and somewhat unrealistic undertaking, but so was the rest of it. 

He wonders as he drifts to sleep, if perhaps the photographer would like to finish what they started. Maybe then he’d get to know the man behind the lens. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook was finally able to go home for the first time in days. It’s just the way he is, completely indulged and tunnel-visioned on work until it was finished. There’s nothing else that can possibly exist in his world until he feels satisfied. Now that this part of the job is over, he feels...empty, in a way. 

He wants to work with Park Jimin again. Just the thought of any other client seemed dull in comparison. 

After a long, well needed shower, he lays down in his grand bed and stretches his body out like a starfish with a content groan. 

The next morning he stood by his closet, humming in thought. He was definitely not going to miss out on Jimin’s fashion show, especially not when he was a big part of the upcoming collection. Not to mention, Jungkook knew that his presence would draw attention, and he wanted that. He wanted Jimin to get more recognition, and what better way to support this by simply showing up?

Jungkook figured he wanted to bring his camera. He surely could get some fantastic shots of Jimin—and the show! He took a long time of considering what to wear, almost texting his PA for help, but opting to simply do it himself. He ended up with...well, the obvious if Jungkook were the one picking his own outfit: Black dress shirt, black dress pants, black shoes—topped with a black suit jacket, embroidered with patterns of sparkling threads to give it a little dazzle.

He nodded, satisfied with what he saw, ruffling his mess of a hairstyle—dark curls flowing freely as he received the call that his car had arrived.

He couldn’t wait to see Jimin...

...and Jimin couldn’t wait to see him either. 

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

[ssidesblog]

pretty as a painting

roman/logan fic ! (ao3)

roman and logan visit a museum and roman has a staring problem

Roman sat in the passenger’s seat of Logan’s car, staring out the window as buildings rushed past. Music played softly from the radio, tuned into some station that neither bothered to change. The car held a comfortable silence, something not of common occurrence when the two boys were together. Roman glanced over at Logan. He was focused on the road, his hands idly tapping some unknown rhythm on the steering wheel. If Roman listened close enough, he could hear Logan humming a song he didn’t know. His expression softened as he admired his friend, a ghost of a smile on his lips. He couldn’t help it, Logan was just too beautiful for his own good. Even with the clouds blocking the shining sun, Logan glowed. 

“It looks like it may rain.” Logan spoke for the first time since Roman had entered the car. 

“It just might,” Roman said, diverting his gaze from Logan to the overcast weather,“But we’ll be inside for most of it, I think the only outdoor part of the museum is the botanical garden.” Roman glanced back over at Logan, who’s eyes were still on the road. 

“I would still like to look at the garden, I believe there are statues displayed among the plants.” Logan chanced a glance at Roman and quickly turned his focus back to the road. 

“If we get soaked it’s not on me.” Roman said. 

“Well, it was your idea to go to the museum today, so you would be at fault.” Logan said with a smirk. Roman rolled his eyes. 

“You’re the one who agreed to come, you get wet, that’s on you.” Roman knew Logan couldn’t argue against that.  

“I guess you are correct.” Logan sighed turning into a parking garage. 

“Hey, Lo,” Roman waved Logan over to him,“Who painted this one?” 

“You know,” Logan said,“The plaques next to each painting displays the artist who painted it.” Roman huffed. 

“Yes, I know, but,” Roman looked up at Logan,“You give extra details about the painter, it’s more interesting if you tell me.” Logan’s face turned a darker shade of pink and Roman softly smiled. Logan coughed to clear his throat. 

“Well, this one is by Monet…” Logan started and Roman only vaguely listened to what he was saying. Roman honestly couldn’t care about Monet, it was just nice to hear Logan speak. His voice was smooth and reminded him of an audio book, comforting and precise, each word said with intent. Roman’s eyes trailed down to his lips as Logan spoke and oh, what he would do to fit his own to his friend’s, like fitting two puzzle pieces together. 

“...very well known for -Roman are you listening?” Logan asked. Roman smiled at him, blush decorating his face. 

“Sorry, I must have zoned out.” Roman dismissed with a wave of his hand. Logan eyed him and then sighed. 

“If you are going to ask me to talk I would appreciate you listen.” Logan said with a smile, slightly exasperated. Roman chuckled. 

“Of course, will do, teach.”

They continued to walk through the museum, Logan providing interesting facts about each artist and Roman actually paid attention, not wanting to get called out again. Logan was always so observant, Roman couldn’t even admire him without him asking why he was staring. 

Eventually, they made their way out into the garden. Logan was right, statues were displayed all around the garden, some looming over them and others simple busts on pedestals. The garden itself contained huge trees, vines wrapped around pillars, and flowers stood out as a well needed pop of color. Logan and Roman were the only patrons in the garden. 

“What kind of trees are these?” Roman asked, placing a hand on a trunk of one of the many, almost identical, trees. The leaves seemed to rain down and cover the two. 

“Oh,” Logan joined him in looking at the tree,“These are weeping willow trees, named after the way the low hanging branches resemble tears.” Logan finished with an adjustment to his glasses. 

“They’re really pretty.” Roman said in amazement. He turned towards Logan, who adorned a smile on his face as he looked up at the tree. His smile was so subtle, but it radiated joy when Roman looked at it. Logan looked back down at him, who he caught staring, yet again. 

“Didn’t your parents tell you it’s rude to stare?” Logan’s smile turned more into a smirk. 

“What else am I supposed to do?” Roman smiled,“They said I’m not allowed to touch the artwork.” Logan’s eyes widened and his face turned bright red. Roman softly laughed. Logan turned away from him, seemingly more interested in a rose bush. Roman sighed, his stomach filled with butterflies. Logan was a little too oblivious. Although Roman flirted with his friends often, it was just in his nature, he really liked Logan. The nerd had wormed his way into Roman’s heart with his dorky facts and even though Logan wasn’t great at feelings, he had a way with words. It also didn’t help that he was the most gorgeous person Roman had ever seen.

 He walked over to a bench and sat down, placing his elbow on his knee and resting his head in his hand. He watched as Logan looked at all the different plants, turning to Roman every so often to excitedly gush about the flowers. Roman’s gentle smile was ever present. Truthfully, Roman didn’t really understand the hype around plants. He could enjoy a romantic rose and a good climb in a tree but he just thought plants were plants; they added some decoration to the earth. Logan, however, loved plants. Majoring in botany will do that to someone, and Roman knew how much he had wanted to come to this museum, if only for the garden, so he suggested they paid it a visit. It was worth it to Roman just to watch Logan geek out and be adorable. 

Logan eventually tired himself out and joined Roman on the bench. The quietness that settled around them was a little odd, but peaceful. Logan fidgeted with his phone, typing something out. Roman went back to staring at him. His eyes were soft, the usual cynicism and overall disdain for the world was gone from them, replaced by something quieter, kinder. These moments were what Roman appreciated most. Seeing his tight wound friend more relaxed, more himself. 

“Roman.” Logan chewed on his bottom lip,“You have been staring at me an awful lot today. Is there something wrong with my appearance?” 

“Oh, no none at all.” Roman quickly reassured him, “I just…” He let his sentence trail off. What was he supposed to say; I just like looking at you because you’re the only masterpiece I’ve seen today and I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. 

“Are you okay?” Logan looked up to meet his eyes. “You seem uncharacteristically quiet.” 

“Are you saying you like when I talk?” Roman joked. 

“Actually, yes I quite do.” Logan replied, looking away. This time, Roman felt his face go hot and he knew he was as red as the roses. 

“Well,” Logan stood up awkwardly, “Maybe we should-” Before he could finish, Roman pulled him back down to the bench. 

“Logan,” Roman started, fidgeting with his hands,“I keep staring at you because I think you’re stunning and I just enjoy being around you and I think to myself: how did I get this lucky to spend time with this beautiful nerd? This renaissance painting come to life whose eyes I could get lost in, whose voice gets stuck in my head like a favorite song.” Roman moved his hands to Logan’s and he looked up and met his eyes, “What I’m trying to say is I really like you, Lo. And you don’t have to like me back, but you deserve to know how I feel.” He sucked in a breath, waiting for Logan’s response. It was quiet for a while, Roman still holding Logan’s hands and his breath. Finally, Logan spoke. 

“I like you too, Roman.” He said with a blush, “And I don’t use words in the same way you do, but I thoroughly enjoy the time we spend together, and I would not trade these moments for the world.” Logan smiled, a genuine smile that Roman couldn’t get enough of. Roman grinned back, finally letting go of his hands. Just as Roman went to speak, the two felt raindrops fall onto them. Roman looked up with a laugh. It came down slowly, but enough to soak through their clothes. Logan stood up and held out a hand for Roman, which he gladly took and lifted himself up. Logan pulled him close and lifted his other hand to Roman’s cheek. Roman wrapped his arms around his waist. 

“I know this is cliche, but, may I-” Before Logan could finish, Roman connected the space between them with a soft kiss. Logan smiled into it, moving the hand that was placed on Roman’s cheek to his neck, deepening the kiss. They pulled apart, leaning their foreheads together. 

“We’re soaking wet.” Logan said, playfulness laced his words. 

“I’ll take responsibility for this one,” Roman said, placing another gentle kiss to Logan’s lips, “Let’s get inside before we grow mold.” Logan chuckled and nodded. They separated, keeping their hands interlocked. 

“Well, on the bright side, you got to touch the artwork.” Logan said, a smug look on his face. Roman barked out a laugh. 

“That I did, Specs.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Logan’s cheek,“That I did”

[c-atm]

Convember:Crossover SU X Multi series

Steven Universe life has never been normal. Being a gem hybrid, a diamond…..A child of a rebel leader who played both sides in an attempt to bring peace, and having to clean up said parent mistakes...Had ran it course..He took it with as much stride as he could and in the end succeed in bringing relative peace throughout his galaxy.

Of course he couldn't have done it alone. He had help from his family, the Crystal Gems. Pearl, the closest thing he had to a mother. She cooked,cleaned,schooled him and was a bit smothering. Always worried about him and hardly enough about herself.  He hoped she was taking care of herself back home.

        Amethyst; his smaller-older sister, shorty squad member, fellow 'worst gem’ and ‘most mature Crystal gem', and the most human. Always there for a prank or a talk, always ready to lounge around.  

Garnet; the leader and heart of the crystal gems. Respected and respectful, wise, forthright, and loving. Always around for advice, to guide, and to guard her fellow man and gem. To stand up against any who would dare hurt her family or friends. She was his hero. one of them.

    Bismuth; Friend to all who needed it. Always ready with a pun or a new project in her forge. Strong in body and heart. He wondered what new armament she’ll have when they stop for a visit.

   Peridot; Lovable, excitable,  and quirky. Always ready to share her new meep morphs, technological  project or her thoughts on pop culture..Mostly Camp Pining Hearts. He wonders if she's enjoying the reboot.

Lapis Lazuli: His beach summer fun buddy, arguably the most powerful of them,  in the right circumstance. Once a sad gem filled with self-loathing for her past actions and a sarcastic  cold demeanor due to her past captivity, now a calmer, happier person. Someone who you can see flying freely over Little Homeworld with a nymph  like giggle.

He missed them so much. Being away from the gems did make him worry. As he walked out of the bedroom he shared and began to transverse the ship, he being to wonder if they were  getting to any fights or arguments..Wonder if his father,Greg was keeping the peace all right. He missed him even more than the gems.He missed Beach City and Little Homeworld. He missed Homeworld and earth...He missed their Dimension.

The nineteen year old missed them dearly..was he nineteen or twenty? The calendar in this world was hard to understand and all the 'verse' hopping didn't help either. Regardless, he wasn't lonely at all. It was hard to be with the group they had gathered.

As he walked by an open room he eye caught sight of a man and woman sharing a bed. Sleeping with a cloak over them was the bounty hunter named Sol Badguy and his lover Aria, formally known as Jack-o . While Sol wasn't the nicest guy around he more than proved to be loyal and a good guy at least. He was blunt with his advice and a bit lazy at times..but when you have the power and strength that he has, he could afford to be.

Resting cozy in Sol's arm and lap was Aria,and despite her looks she was just as powerful as the man she leaned against. She was the nicer of the two and very intuitive. She had the aura of a mature older sister, always willing to lend an ear or a shoulder when needed.

Leaving them be and closing the door to their room,  Steven continued his walk. he came into one of the living areas; a spacious room very fantastically  and futuristically furnished. Across from entranced the laid Yuri lowell on crimson recliner a book between his chest and hand, slightly snoring.  Steven spared him a glance before looking around the room. He sighed as his search turned up empty.

    As he was about to continue on his search, he was accidentally bumped into by the pink hair and blue eyes of a nobility; Estellise Sidos Heurassein, Estelle for short. After apologize with a giggle, Steven  indicated where a certain vagabond sleeping with left nod of the head. She peered in and sighed slightly annoyed, slightly adoringly as she walked to the sleeping man and playfully poked his face. Only for him poke her back and pull her down with him.

  He allowed himself to smile at the antics, before  moving on...No need to watch a couple at play. He made his way along the corridor walking pass  empty and unused bedrooms and soon found himself going down the elevator to the first level of the ship.

As soon as he walked out he caught a whiff of something sweet in the air, like fried cookie cat sweet. He followed in a trance like state, his sweet tooth and stomach urging him to find the source of this aroma.. . It led him to the kitchen and as soon as he entered, He walked right back out and ran away.

    He was not going to taste any of Noel Vermillion cooking. He did feel bad but.. he ate her food once and saw his life flash before his eyes, not in the pleasant way either.He felt bad cause Noel along with Estelle was one of the sweetest people you could ever meet.  Helpful and kind to a fault, even able to get the sarcastic and cool Yuri and Mr.Badguy himself to smile or smirk genuinely.

He turned the corner to see one Ragna the bloodedge..Looking quite sick, green as his right eye. It didn't  take long for Steven to put two and two together. He looked at the older man quizzically, he knew better not to eat Noel food, hell he warned  them not to eat his sisters cooking.

Ragna looked up at the hybrid and held a cup of water shaking it. Steven smirked   before sticking his finger in his mouth getting a good amount of healing essence and sticking it into Ragna's cup, swirling  it around. Ragna looked slightly disgusted but he drowned the water with gusto. he shivered over how disgusting it was to drink someone saliva, but  couldn't deny the quick and powerful results.

With a stretch the rebel patted the younger man on the shoulder giving him an appreciative  nod before heading back to the kitchen in hope of getting the blonde girl out of there before she kill anyone else.

Steven shrugged wishing him luck, before continuing  his way. Past the control room..He doubt who he was looking for would be there at this time..Especially since the ship A.I was in control. As his travel continued something caught his ear, the sounds of battle.

With a smile, Steven upped his pace towards the sounds of clashing weapons and grunts. It took him all but 30 seconds for him to reach the giant sliding doors.with a press of a glowing red button to the left of the doors, he was allowed entry.

Inside was a modest balcony with a protective  window pane, a control module and a door on the left. Sitting by said module was a young man of similar age, one of the first people that they recruited on this journey, Jude mathis. The man took a quick glance at the hybrid before turning his head back forward, back to what was going on beyond the balcony. Steven was quick to join him the sparkle in his eyes and grin on his face said it all.

Beyond the balcony was unprecedented and always awestucking.  Below was land, air, water or whatever someone wished it to be as long as they've been there.. At the moment it was a place Steven knew very well..It been months since he saw it.. The ruins.

In the ruins two warriors were sparring, clashing sword to sword, fist to fist, foot to foot; each with shallow cuts and slight bruising on various parts of their bodies.  One was a tall, beautiful young woman with pink eyes and long, blonde hair that reaches down to her waist. Dressed in a high thigh, form fitting blue and white dress, with long thigh high boots and matching gauntlets., Mila Maxwell; The lord of Spirits from Reize Maxia

The other was slightly younger.. but was just as beautiful (If you asked Steven, moreso). With skin of brown and eyes of black pearls, full lips and curly  deep brown hair that stopped at her mid back was held in a top bun-braid combo, thanks to the star bralette in her hair. Her body: full figured shapley, and built for battle; was adorned in a cobalt Kalaripayattu outfit with a crimson sash, cobalt shoes and mid-finger gauntlets that matched her sash. Connie Maheswaran..Crystal gem..and partially awaken Lord of the Universe.

Something they have been working to ratify since the start of their journey, and bring to full fruition.Something they need to succeed in unless existence itself ceases to well.. Exist. One of the ways through exercise and battle like this, attempting to force it out.

The two clashed and pushed their blades against each, eyes locked in determination and excitement on their face. The sound of the blondes rapier scraping against the brunettes shortsword as they struggled for supremacy, only added to their fun. A share of taunting chuckles came from each other as they try to figure out how to take advantage of this deadlock.

Connie was the first to make a move as she slightly loosened her grip on her blade, allowing Mila full momentum to throw the lord of spirits of balanced as, as Connie shifted her body and step to the left side of her friend momentarily out of her sight. Using the momentum and the opening, Connie swung her right foot to the back of blonds knee, sweeping her feet from under her.

Mila landed hard on her back with a groan, but recovered quickly; rolling back to her feet in a crouch, holding her hand out, a green circle of mana around her.

“Pierce through! Wind Lance!” .

A green arc of wind  based mana flew from her hand, straight towards Connie. The indian woman grimace as she blocked with her sword being pushed back a little, feeling the wind still knick her stomach slightly.

Earth, cry out! Rock Trine! "

Connie eyes widen when she saw a yellowish triangular glyph appear below her. Letting her instinct take over The woman leapt up just out of the way of the rock pillars rising up to stab her. Quite higher than a normal human would.

Flames come forth! Fireball!

Connie swore as she saw and felt the flame sphere head toward her. She took a chance tossing her blade at milia, causing to  the sphere to explode as it flew through; unfortunately Connie was still close enough to feel a bit of the shockwave, being blown back a bit more.

She did hear the clang of Swords and the grimace of her opponent..

‘Guess where both disarmed now...Though she still have access to her worlds workings and mana' Connie thoughts were interrupted when she saw a blue sphere of water above her.

“Oh Fu--”

She didn’t get the chance to finish as a torrent of water collided with her, throwing her down to the earth below, pounding and beating her body harsly.  She breath haggardly as she climbed to her feet drenched, coughing up some water left from that attack. She growled in irritation and determination. Not at Mila, but at herself.  She took a deep breath before calming herself, placing her hands in the meditative symbol garnet taught her and Steven as Stevonnie.

Her eyes changed slightly but gaining what look like a four point star and each of her pupils the size of a pin.

“ Shadowing”

Her voice seemed to have a bit of an echo as she spoke. While it seemed as if nothing happened that was far from the truth. Seeing that Mila was not running but gliding towards her, sword in hand caused her to smirk.

“ Splash!”

Seeing the water bubble over her head again,  kickstart her mind and in a low almost whisper, Connie spoke.

  “Lapis lazuli.”

Wings similar to her fellow crystal temp appeared on her back, the only difference they were black as shadows. As the water, Connie raised her hands, shakingly stopping the waters fall before tossing it towards Milia who dodge the stream .Connie leapt back before flying towards Milia, no where near the speed of Lapis, but still faster than Mila expected.

“Bismuth.”

With a twist the Lord-to-be, substituted the wings, for warhammers hands, slamming them towards the left side of the spirit lord, who despite blocking the blow still tossed towards a nearby pillar. Mila through stinging pain righted herself and landed on the pilar before bounding of it, towards her opponent.

Mila slammed her blade against Connie hammers with her whole weight behind it. The force pushed the young woman back and slightly off balance. Mila landed on bended knees before she followed through with a horizontal slash towards  Connie face. She successfully laid a shallow cut upon the bridge of the Maheswarans nose as Connie fell back.

Using the momentum of the fall and the hammers as a balance, Connie backed flipped away from Mil, kicking her chin in the process. The Maheswaran leapt  back as the hammers vanished in a wisp of smoke. She clenched her hands thrice, getting a feeling for them.

'Ten seconds still for 'Bismuth'...Not ideal but better than five.'

" Peridot."

Connie leapt over Mila attempt  to stab her abdominal, countering three kicks towards the spirit  lords head, which were blocked by their blade. On the third kick she used mila as spring board jumped back and high into the air.

Hmm!"  Mila stood before kneeling down.

"CLOUD PIERCE!"

She leapt diagonally upward towards Connie with her sword pointing forward, spinning clockwise, the thrust emitting blue energy.

As she watched her come Connie held her left hand in a gripping fashion she pulled it back towards her.

"KKSH! KSHKSHKSH!"

The sounds of weapons clashing resounded as Connie sword back in to her hands, clashed against Mila attack. Try as she might though she couldn't keep the defense up as Mila was able to breakthrough. The blue energy hit her on the side, shaving and burning her outfit and skin, while tossing her back towards the ground, with a dust gathering crash.

"Amethyst ."

Just as mila was finishing her attack a shadow colored imitation of the gems whip, snapped around her waist and swung her into the ground hard, releasing  before impact. Mila coughed as she felt her back slammed into the ring. Mila groaned for a moment getting her bearings before seeing Connie bruised, battered, but smirking; run out of the cloud. Sword in her left, whip in her right.

Connie snapped the whip towards the spirit lord, putting her on the defensive. She wasn't  as efficient as the namesake, but she at least has mila on her toes and kept the lord from moving closer. With one lucky snap, she was able to knock  the weapon out of her hands roughly and closer to a smug Connie . With a running leap and a elegant twist, Connie swung the whip down ward. A trail of grayish flanes ran across the stone covered whip as it nearly collided with the lord of spirits blocking hand...only for it to dissipate before contact, leaving Connie a bit drained..and very open as she landed in front of Mila in a crouch.

Mila stretched out her hand towards connie as a sphere of fire appeared in her palm..only to be accompanied by two more each  to a side of the Maheswaran. She smirked at the look of defiance on her protege. She leapt back to escape blast range.

"Flare Bomb!"

"Gar-"

Connie voice was smothered by the blinding explosion of spheres. Smoke stood where Connie was but Mila stood ready. Connie, if anything proved to be resilient, vigilant, and at times relentless in her pursuits. Time has taught her that. Mila eyes widen and her instinct screamed to dodge as Connie shot of the smoke, worse than wear,  shadow version of Garnet's gauntlets on her hands.

Connie swung with a mighty right hook, that would have  took of the lord of Spirits head, if she didn't duck, did take of some strands of  hair though and caused a bit of a shockwave. Connie raised her left and try to bring it down on her opponent only to have her miss again cratering the place once stood.

She coughed as she felt a fist to the left side and swung towards the source, meeting air and receiving  another fist to her midsection. Connie growled as she a round house towards the source this time hitting the forearm of mila, a block. Connie  was thrown off by the Spirit lord for a moment before using the momentum to land into a handstand. Splitting her legs, she spun her body around attempting to break Mila guard, with a flurry  of helicopter kicks.

Mila grunted against assault. Each kick feeling like a steel rod beating against her arms  continuously. After the sixth hit Mila dropped her guard for a moment.

at the same time,  Connie dropped to her feet and drove her gauntlet to milia guarded stomach. It was enough to send the blonde flying back  many yards.

Mila righted herself in skid it back near a  broken pillar seeing her sword nearby. The spirit lord watched as the brunette charge, slower because of the gauntlets. She  lifted her beaten arms up and began to speak

"O spurring wind, scatter like flowers! Arriverderci!"

Connie stopped her charge as she saw the light green glyph appear below her. From it she felt the gust of wind and petals, knocking her upward and giving her a bevy of shallow cuts all over , grunting  all the while. She twisted herself right before disengaging the gauntlets.

"Pearl"

From Garnet gauntlets to Pearl's  spear, a weapon Connie knew very well. She pointed shadow imitation at milia and launched a volley of energy bullets at the blond, putting Mila on the evasive as she fell.

Mila charged dodging shot after shot picking up her blade, she met Connie  with a horizontal slash from above as she landed, clashing weapon to weapon before leaping back just bit.

The two women swung, clashed  and evaded each others blows neither giving the other an inch of space. For every step back met with a step forward. Every party an attack..It was a beautiful  dance of blades.Connie did get the first clean hit by partying a stab to the left and kicking her straight to the gut knocking her back in a tumble.

Connie breathed tiredly as the spear disappeared..She could feel her time running short as she blinked her eyes. she could feel the power waning. she smirked, she lasted longer than usual. That's a plus especially when utilizing ' shadowing' .. It does eat up a lot of her time and energy, more so when it dissipates by itself..She figured she had at least three to four minutes left...Better make it count.

Mila shook her head and got up with a grunt. She rotated shoulders and with pride she saw Connie charging toward her..Sword in hand. Conjuring the mana needed in a purple glyph circle surrounding her. With a reach towards her connie, spirit lord  commanded

“Bolt Strike!”

A giant shadow and the sound of crackling caused connie looked up...and her eyes widened in shock. A sphere of dark purple energy above the ground, and after several seconds of waiting, several lightning bolts struck down from it  at random directions, in her general area.

Connie jumped, duck, and dodged the deadly making attack the best she could.. Only to find herself in the middle of four lighting bolts aiming straight at her..

" BISCUIT!"

Instantly familiar 'shing' of the pink diamond  shield was heard..except it was a darker pink.. A shadow but much more solid than the others, make sense, this is the weapon,the power she knows just as well as her own.

Using the shield, she reflected the lighting at the caster, who dodged  by cartwheeling to the left. Sh charged tossing not one but three shields at Mila, who dodged two and  knocked the third into the air only to catch back in her hand and slamming it back down onto her blade, pushing her back.

Mila couldn't escape Connie ferocity. Any where she went Connie  was on her Shield and sword in hand, elegant and deadly. She ducked under a swing losing some  hair from Connie's sword, responding with an uppercut that met her shield Mila pressed her palm on it .

"Flare bomb!"

The explosion gave Mila the seconds she need to jump away and prepare her attack.

"Shining Prism!"

Milla conjured a white hexagon under the smoke where Connie stood, with four shining hexagons around the edges of the ground hexagon. The hexagons then rotate counterclockwise as a series of white rays bounces several times from the walls. They tore through the smoke revealing  a dark pink bubble; with Connie in the middle. The light couldn't penetrate it.

Connie started to charge after mila bubble still activated Muscling through spell after spell  to drag her into close combat. Once close enough Connie deactivated the bubble Swinging her blade diagonally  towards Milan's throwing her off balance.She followed though with a smack of her Shield throwing mila back.

Mila watched as she came yet again and smiled.. The pride in her protege and friend was immense. She felt a bit sad for what  she was about to do. Milla crouched low drawing her left hand behind her, summoning a ball of red energy in it. She charged at her opponent with an open palm.

"Overdrive!"

The met in a destructive clash, the reflexive  force of the shield versus the overwhelming power of the orb, godly beings struggling against each other ,neither willing to give the other an inch.

Connie could only look in  a mixture of defeat and satisfaction as the shield. and orb  canceled our each other causing an implosion between the two.. The last thing Connie remembered  is her shield getting shattered, And both her and Mila flying back.

When Connie opened her eyes she nearly cried..She was at beach house..In Steven's room. She walked over to the balcony  and her heart exploded in joy..Steven, the gems, Her parents, Greg and lion..They were at the beach..She was home. She looked further down the beach and saw the group they gathered on their multiverse adventure.. She laughed as she raced to join them  only to turn around and see a white nearly demonic version of herself.. She didn't get to scream as the wraith god jumped on her.

Connie scream woke up the person next to her, Steven as he grabbed her by the shoulders, rubbing them gently. She looked around and realize they were on the ship in the room sh..She sighed as she turned to Steven  who looked worried. She grabbed his hand seething a bit at her own movements.

She felt lingers of the battle  Steven, of course seeing this, did what he always did. He gripped her chin and kissed her tenderly..Healing and exciting her as she moaned both thank you and a hunger for more.

Connie grabbed him and pulled him down with her, cuddling close with his legs between her thighs  instinctively rubbing against him. arms around his big torso head by his heart taking in his still beach city scent. She felt at home here In his arms.The fact that he held her similarly made it even better.

It was late though..too late to talk about their moment of homesickness..or the nightmares or training..or theirs ragtag team.or the fate of the goddamn multiverse..All they wanted right now was to hold and he held by the piece of their home within their grasp...Each other.

[thebifrostgiant]

If You Know Where to Look - Part 6

Summary: in which Loki meets someone new, talks with a friend, and makes an odd request

Part 1 / Previous

Read on Ao3

Word Count: 3,447

Rating: T (for now)

Pairing: Loki/Reader

*

Chapter 6: A Rising Tide

The morning finds Loki being woken up bright and early by his least favorite servant, Therna, to be hassled into a set of his best clothing and have his hair scraped and combed until it is tangle free and glossy, the topmost layer of it pulled back and held out of his eyes by a lustrous gold clip that matches the polished shoulder clasps of his cloak and his vambraces. He manages to persuade the handsy old woman that he can, in fact, dress himself shortly before she can try to put his boots on his feet for him, and she stands behind him, wringing her hands to keep from brushing imaginary dirt from his shoulders or straightening the already tidy collar of his tunic yet again as he tightens his laces and stands, letting the lightweight fabric of his cloak flow about him like deep green waves.

He strikes an impressive image in his chambers’ mirror, even to his own perspective, accustomed as he is to seeing himself ornamented in finery and glitter. Although his appearance, customarily a point of much pride, brings him no measure of satisfaction nor delectation on this day. Instead, he smooths the indignation from his brow and softens the set of his mouth into something approaching pleasant, even if he can’t quite manage to force the sentiment to reach his eyes.

He wants to be like Therna and tuck and retuck every last stray hair into proper order, wants to fiddle with his cloak until the very idea of a wrinkle in it is laughable, wants to stall. But his hair is perfect and his clothes are immaculate, so he folds his hands behind his back, rolls his shoulders out, and struts from his rooms with a gait just elegant and swift enough to make his cloak flick out and stream behind him, but without seeming rushed or undignified.

As usual, the servants in the palace part as he makes his way to the entrance halls, but there is a poorly concealed undercurrent of excitement amongst them, buzzing ever loud just beneath the surface, and some greet him with smiles and head bows and congratulatory words that resound with a sincerity scarcely bestowed upon him. Any other day, he might even have found pleasure in their regard, gratified to be treated the way Thor ever was, like the people, his people, actually liked and respected him, but the knowledge of why they have suddenly elected to defer to him sits in his stomach like bad ale; he’s not deluded enough to believe that they would ever truly express favor on his behalf, and in fact, it is not him in and of himself they are pleased with, but the mere happenstance he has been moved through like a piece on a game board.

Indeed, it is hard for Loki not to despise the good will when given as little more than a token in exchange for his steadily dwindling freedom and conation. Few things does Loki value more than the aptitude to follow after the enticement and lure of his ever capricious desires, and losing that feels like a cage, gilded as the bars may seem to any other.

Most of all, his resentment is borne of being foisted eternally upon some woman he has never spoken to, who has never been one of said desires in any capacity — mutually so, he would imagine — regardless of his own voice and opinion on the matter, his soul-deep protests falling of the deaf ears of his father and king. The way his king sees it, the duties of being a prince take priority over the privileges the role allows. The way his father sees it, he is being willful and obstinate, acting like a stubborn child having the silver spoon taken from his mouth and kicking up a tantrum in retaliation. But with only one good eye, it is no wonder the Allfather all too rarely sees true where his second son is concerned.

It is no matter so simple as rebellion that drops like lead to his soles and weighs him down, and makes it hard not to drag his feet to the execution of his former life. It’s being condemned to be sealed away in a loveless marriage, it’s not being able to choose. He is not ruled by whimsy — he knows how to set aside his wants and how to be responsible, he is responsible — but he courts chaos by his very nature, and expecting him to relinquish that is like expecting him to never breathe again.

It is too much to ask of him to give up his heart’s blood.

But there is always too much to ask and never enough insight and with Loki trapped in the middle of it, there is nothing for him to do besides plaster on some charming smile, stand undaunted aside his royal family as he receives his to-be bride, and be what he always has been — the masterful weaver of clever illusions, mischief coursing through his veins, with a trick hidden behind his back, and his true self hidden behind his words and the dull shine of his eyes.

***

It’s a long moment before he speaks. He stills as he looks at you, seeing you awake, and you watch him warily. You don’t want his anger directed at you again. You want to turn away. You want to apologize, to thank him for healing you, you want to insist he tell you what is going on all in one breath. You don’t do any of it.

His dress is much more formal tonight than it had been when he’d saved you and cursed you in one fell swoop, all leather and gold from head to toe, befitting of his stature, and his bearing suggests far too much authority and confidence for this to be mistaken for a friendly visit, and you did not expect such. Yet his hair hangs to his chin in messy black waves, pieces of it loose from where it was gathered at the top, and his cloak is draped over one arm rather than worn properly across his shoulders. Still, despite the somewhat weary appearance, he does not seem angry. There’s a light in his eyes that worries you far more, that something brewing beneath the surface.

You wait for him to speak. You don’t know the rules of the game he is playing, and you have to pick your way forward with care, wrong-footed as it makes you feel, and it falls to him to make the first move.

“I take it you’ve been expecting my company?” he says casually, too casually, words as light as air. It’s not a question, really. Of course you have, and he knows it as well. He tosses his discarded cloak on top of one of the nearby quilts and moves further into the room, swooping nearer to your bed, and pins you with his gaze. He seems almost amused, almost entertained as you nod in reply to his not-query, like you’re some exhibit to replete his curiosity and nothing more.

“Excellent!” he says, with a very intentional cheerfulness in his voice. It’s portentous of nothing good. “I’ve always been one to appreciate a captive audience.”

***

Ülle is beautiful. The thick rings of hair hanging down her back are adorned with glass beads and faceted crystals that catch the sunlight like prisms, forming tiny rainbows that dance in the dark tresses, her dress the deep, lush color of sweet plums, cut in a characteristic Vanir fashion from a fabric so soft and supple that it moves like wine swirled in a goblet as she walks, her lips painted a matching shade, her bare arms decorated with silver circlets.

She looks like a princess already, Loki thinks, certainly dressed for the title soon to be bestowed upon her. His princess, his wife. He thrusts down the panic of that thought with fury that drowns along with it, buried far inside.

He takes her warm hand in his, brings it to his lips and kisses it like he knows he’s supposed to, but it’s like he isn’t doing it, like someone else is. She smiles at him with her pretty mouth, and he meets her eyes and sees that they are a sober amber color and he wonders, not for the first time, if she feels just as lost and sick as he does, just as crushed. But as he watches, the honeyed depths suffuse with delight that makes them glow, and he drops her hand faster than he means to, resisting the urge to take a step back.

Loki isn’t entirely sure what has him feeling so rattled as he escorts Ülle through the halls and gardens, showing her around her new home, showing her the finest of Asgard. He has always been drawn to beautiful things and has always imagined he’d find love with one who could take joy in his presence, as Ülle had. Yet he cannot shake the impression that her mirthful visage had not been a consequence of his company, not a moment shared between them, but rather a secret that he wasn’t privy to. All he knows for certain is that this is not what he imagined. This is not what he wants.

***

It’s nearly evening before he catches a moment to himself, feet trekking almost mindlessly toward the quiet shelter of Eir’s infirmary. The solitude soothes him, and he lets his shoulders loosen, lets himself breathe deeply.

Ülle had been... exhausting, to put it mildly, and Loki is making a valiant effort to give her some benefit, although he is beginning to suspect there isn’t much doubt. She talked a lot for one thing, which itself didn’t have to be bad, but she did not appear to be one for meaningful discussion, nor did she carry on about anything and everything in mindless chatter like some did — a bit annoying, perhaps, but not bad. She, however, would use her voice to express her distaste at just about everything. She seemed to like the palace alright, seemed to genuinely enjoy the gold and marble and luxury of it. But there was always something that needed to be done, according to her, always something that didn’t meet her standards, always something lacking. She was perfectly polite to him, but her tone dripped with disdain as she found fault with just about every servant that had attempted to oblige her, turning to him as if she expected him to join her in her haughtiness.

A hand clasps his arm and he tenses, nearly startled, and turns, but it is only Thor, and he lets himself relax a little.

His brother looks him over, never letting go of his arm, before he speaks. Loki huffs under the scrutiny and glares up at Thor impatiently. If this is another lecture, an unnecessary spiel about treating his woman with respect and tenderness, or however it is Thor phrases it, he’ll probably lose the fragile remaining strands of his long-suffering restraint entirely. He’s also halfway expecting a joke, the blithe jeering at his expense that only a sibling could get away with unscathed, for he knows Thor is fond of such, and is never one to miss an opportunity to tease his younger brother.

“You should have come with us yesterday,” he says instead, surprising Loki not only by the words but by the tone in which he says them. It is serious, and nearly kind, and Loki lets the exasperation seep out of his face. “You could have used something to relax you.” He squeezes Loki’s arm emphatically. “You’re taut as a bowstring. I’m worried your back might snap”

And there it is. The compassion and jest rolled into one, how his brother has always been. Loki doesn’t know whether to laugh or shove him.

“I don’t think I’d have been good company,” he admits quietly, stepping out of Thor’s reach and pulling his arm free. He gives his brother a half smile over his shoulder as he continues on his way, and Thor just shakes his head at him and lets him go.

***

You freeze at the words, trying not to find a threat in them and failing. Eir had told you Prince Loki was one for plots. And here... this was one sliding into place before you, it had to be.

You try to sit up as straight as you can, not liking the way the prince towers over you from your perch on the bed. It makes you feel small, but you don’t think now is a good time to be intimidated.

He clasps his hands behind his back, a small smile on his face.

“I believe Eir has informed you that you’ll be staying here awhile,” he says, tilting his head to look down at you.

“Yes, she has. I’d like to know why, if I may?”

There. Easy enough. You can manage to speak with a polite, even tone when you try

Prince Loki tips his head, and squints a little.

“Why she told you? Because I asked her to, of course.” His voice is soft, playful, and not the least bit funny to you.

“Why- why I’ll be staying here, I meant.” You falter a bit, less due to nervousness, although you’ve certainly got plenty of that, and more because of the spike of annoyance you’re feeling. “My prince,” you add, just in case you hadn’t masked your tone so well as you hoped.

He laughs lightly, a breathy, mocking thing, and turns to step toward the window, drawing back the curtain and staring out at the hazy purple sky. You stare at his back, watching the slight rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes, watching him pry his hands apart and bring them to the front of his body.

“It has come to my attention that there is a role I have neglected to fill. It’s shouldn’t be beyond your... capabilities, I don’t imagine,” he says, rather aloof, and he glances back at your bedridden form. “Well,” he amends, “once you’re back on your feet, I should hope it isn’t.”

You have no theories on where he is going with this, what task, what role he thinks should be given to you, and your uncertainty wars with your rising temper. You didn’t ask for a job, and you didn’t ask for his scorn. You appreciate neither.

“And what role would you have me fill?” You make yourself ask it, even though you would rather not know the answer.

***

He talks with Eir longer than he had anticipated, but it’s a distraction he warmly welcomes. He has long known that his fascination and dedication to learning her craft had endeared him to her, and that the healer has a soft little corner of her very large heart saved for him, one that he repays with respect that is as genuine and fresh as a vernal breeze. It helps, too, that she takes no offense at his harmless wit and occasionally returns a sharp remark of her own, to both of their amusement. Somewhere along the way, the goddess had become his friend, and her company is not one that requires pretense on his part. Even when the topic at hand is serious, he can be at ease around her, and he is grateful.

Now, he is the one asking her questions, and she tells him about the young woman in the next room, the one with the scar on her face. The one who thinks of him as a villain.

Kidnapped. That certainly does have a ring of truth to it. It makes sense, it fits. It erases any lingering doubt he may have had about her overall involvement in the scheme. He had called her a runaway, to Einvald, because that is what had slipped out of his mouth at the moment, but he hadn’t had time to fully consider the matter. If he had, he might have come to the correct conclusion on his own, and finding out he had been wrong makes a muscle in his cheek twitch.

It would seem, also, that he has been negligent in another matter. Caught up as he had been in his ire, he had let it slip his mind that he had not doled out punishment. He had done little to Einvald and his men but shoo them off, dismissing them as scoundrels. But kidnapping is a much more weighty issue, and they had tried to sell a person to him. They deserve to face the retribution of their obscenity. The streets would not be safe until they are no longer on the loose, and Loki himself would see to it that they are hunted down and forced to face his wrath. And the girl, well, she needn’t fear being his wife — that post was already occupied — but perhaps, he thinks with derision, there is something he can do after all.

And with that in mind, he dismisses himself from Eir’s station and steps lightly into the hall.

***

The girl — Ásleif? Áslaug? it had passed from his mind shortly after Eir had spoken it— looks at him with eyes as cagey and fearful as those of the elk Thor and his friends favor hunting when such a creature is downed and waiting for the final strike of the knife to its throat. It makes Loki nauseated to see it aimed at him, especially when he is not the one who had wielded the blade. He smiles, letting the nasty thing that it is take form on his face, certain that its reflection in the window can be seen from the bedside.

“As you may know,” he starts in a quiet voice, “I’ll be married shortly.”

He doesn’t answer her question, not quite yet. He turns back to her in time to see the full effect of his words sink in. She’s trying hard not to look vulnerable, not to be scared, and her determination is betrayed by her crossed arms, layered over her chest as if to protect herself from him. She knows he has the upper hand as she awaits his pronouncement, knows he pulls the strings that determine how this whole scene will play out. This scene he has power over. And he revels in it.

***

“And now that my darling bride has come to Asgard,” the prince says in his rich, rolling voice, the slight note of irony coloring the words, “I realize that the servants in the palace will not be adequate to meet her needs, busy as they are with their many other tasks. And any would-be wife of mine surely deserves to be waited on hand and foot.”

And he wants you to be the one to do that. He doesn’t say it. He doesn’t have to. The implication is there, and there’s no other way about it.

It is a punishment, you realize, even if Loki is not explicitly presenting it as such. It certainly is not a privilege, as the prince would have no reason to bestow such on you even if being a maid, a lady-in-waiting, could be considered perquisite. But it is harsh, and plainly undeserved. You can’t wrap your head around it. You had been a bit rude, there was no denying it, and you were willing to make amends for that, but it is by no means incentive for the prince to requite this severely. You can think of no reason for it.

Unless Prince Loki is just an utter bastard. The thought passes through your head before you can clamp down on it, and it’s unkind, but, well, it is a reason.

And you have to ask, you have to know.

“What about-“ my family, you are trying to say my family, but the prince cuts you off.

“Oh, do relax. You’ll be well paid, it’s hardly as if you’d be a slave.”

Hardly. You want to laugh, but you don’t. You refuse to let any sound come out of your mouth at the moment for fear of the fury that might result. Oh, yes, you’ve decided, an utter bastard indeed. A condescending, callous, appalling bastard.

Prince Loki gives you one last humored glance, like he’s having fun, and strides to pick up his emerald cloak. He pauses at the doorway.

“Do consider my offer, won’t you?” he says before pushing the doors open and slipping out without waiting for an answer he doesn’t need. It is not an offer at all, and there is nothing to consider, as you know you cannot refuse.

Part 7

[gritandgrace40]

5 Lies of the Materialism Idol

DISCIPLESHIP OCTOBER 28, 2020

By Aubrey Coleman

Staff Writer for The Daily Grace Co.

1. You are more valuable when you have valuable things.

There are several reasons we are lured to idolize material things, one of which leads us to believe that our human value is dependent on how valuable our things are. Whether a lavish and inviting home, a noteworthy car, a trendsetting wardrobe, the latest and greatest technology, or a unique one-of-a-kind antique find, we can begin to fall into the lie that we are more valuable in this world when we have valuable things. Now, society at large does not fight this lie. It encourages it and strokes the flame with a Forbes list of richest people in the world on a magazine cover or reality tv shows that showcase the most stunning homes in America.

But God’s Word tells us that true beauty and value are not found in the external riches and material things we adorn ourselves with; rather, true value is found in the submissive disposition of our hearts to find hope in God, alone (1 Peter 3:3-4). When we believe in our hearts that God has given us the most precious gift of salvation through His Son, Jesus Christ, we no longer search for it in material things. We no longer need to acquire to preserve our worth. We can fight the lie to measure our value by our things and instead live lives that exude the incomparable value of eternal life offered to us in Jesus.

2. People value you based on your things.

If we believe our worth and value are found in material things, we likely will believe the lie that others look at us that way too. We might showcase ourselves like a display case, hoping it will give us the love and admiration we deeply desire. Hosting extravagant events, having all the new and trendy things, or simply portraying a lifestyle of luxury to gain the attention and approval of others may be some of the ways the fruition of this lie can show itself.

But for Christians, we are reminded that the truest judgment of value comes from God and not man. Galatians 1:10 exhorts, “For am I now trying to persuade people, or God? Or am I striving to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.” Unfortunately, some people may only appreciate you for the things that you have, but wouldn’t you rather have relationships rooted and grounded in something more meaningful? Buying into the lie presented becomes an endless and fleeting pursuit, as the approval of man will ebb and flow with your material things. But investing in that which God finds to be valuable will anchor and sustain your relationships in ways that are more genuine, stable, and lasting.

3. The more you have the less you will want.

Like every idol we wrestle with, the lie is presented that we will not get into an endless cycle of want and need. With the idol of material things, we might assume that if we can just get those few necessary items, we will finally be content with what we have. Just a few quick, consecutive purchases from an Instagram ad are harmless. Just a new espresso machine we saw at a friend’s house or the brand new bedding we saw at the mall or the farmhouse table that will provide the perfect place for a grand meal won’t aid idolatry, we might assume. Just that new house or that new car will satisfy our longing for more, and then we will be content. These are the lies that taunt us to believe that if we can just accumulate certain things, then we won’t want anything else.

But for Christians, we find that contentment cannot be found in things. We are reminded in 1 Timothy 6:6-10 that we can easily fall into temptation and harmful desires that accompany love of money and materialism. We can easily be enticed and led astray by our desires. We are not trustworthy when left to ourselves. Instead, we must actively pursue godliness with the truth of Scripture so that we fight the lies of idolatry. We need God’s help to redirect our hearts to that which is lasting. It is only through Christ that we find true contentment, and anything that promises otherwise will time and time again fall short.

4. The more you have, the better you will feel.

We’ve all likely heard of retail therapy. When we’re feeling down or distraught, we might search for that one thing that could lift our spirits. The materialism idol directs us to things to bring us comfort and relief. It promises to make us feel better and get rid of the hard things we face. But even if temporarily relieving, the satisfaction of a new purchase will fade in time. The feelings will return, and we will likely look for the next thing to curb our hurt and help us to avoid our circumstances.

Our feelings are products of the heart, and we will grow weary in trying to tame them externally. Our greatest hope and help to get at the root of our feelings is with the truth of Scripture. We can remind ourselves through God’s Word that God will meet and satisfy our every longing, even when our circumstances or surroundings are not ideal. With this belief deeply rooted in our hearts, our feelings are less likely to persuade us into idolatry.

5. You need material things because God is not enough.

The greatest lie we are fed through idolizing materialism is that God is not enough. We may never explicitly say this, and we may question whether this truly applies to us. But the truth of an idol is that we are seeking in it to provide what we feel God is not providing for us. Whether for comfort, value, worth, meaning, purpose, security, or fulfillment. Something becomes an idol because we are making it a god in our lives, which in turn is rooted in the lie that God, Himself, is not enough. Satan wants nothing more than for Christians to consume our hearts and minds with idolatry. He wants nothing more for us than to doubt and turn away from God. He will use whatever means necessary to tempt and taunt us away from the only One who can truly fulfill our every longing. But only God can give us what we need.

In Christ, we have hope to battle against the lies of idolatry. We are equipped in every way—with the help of the Holy Spirit, with the active work of the Word in our hearts, and with the safeguarding efforts of the family of God. If the materialism idol has crept into your life, there is always a way to fight the temptation to succumb to the lies. May we be reminded again of the truth that is promised to all who put their hope and faith in Jesus Christ:

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time.

1 Peter 1:3-5

[thequillswhims]

One to Three

It's borderline funny how hope can be the most treacherous backstabbing two faced traitor out there, the most pristine snake slithering in the quaintest of dainty garments, hiding it's face behind a richly adorned fan, eyes locked on you, whispering seductively about promises to come, unbound and unlimited happiness, and when you halt on the road of your life to land an ear to the siren's whimsically entrapping song, you allow your heart to dream and escape in the blinding mists, let hope take you on it's wings and wrap itself around you, coiling it's body around your heart and eyes, and then, when you are perfectly content, and happy, your little heart like a spring lovebird elated with the poison that hope had lovingly nurtured you with, the snake retracts from blinding your sight and you see and the snake's fangs are already sharply planted deep within your heart, biting and claiming every ounce of your delusions, drenching your heart with it's suave fatal poison.

And as much as I would love to blame the other, and Fate and Life and the Universe, I think it's simpler and overall easier, if not straight up lazier with a sense of escapist mentality, to just take one of the team, team being me myself and I, and conclude that: I misread silly casual flirtation, I overblown something that wasn't really there, I ... I was wrong. I got caught up in my feelings, for they themselves, if I treat them like an exterior force to my rational self, were, out of the Wahoo exceptionally crazy strong in intensity, but that does not automatically equate to the other party feeling the same things, or assessing, if he had felt the same, the same way I had. The intensity of my own feelings were not an assured guarantee, an official formal contract binding my heart to his, in any capacity. My feelings were mine and that is all that it was. After all, each individual has their own proper right to feel and understand, assess and react to feelings as goddamn well as they please. That is the core beauty of the human species, at the end of the day. Every single individual has their own selfish right to experience the same banal experience in their own secluded divine right; intense, or dismissed. No one has the right to judge for interpretation. And, although it could have - would have - been potentially nice to board the ship together, sometimes, it's best to miss the boat and take a plane, or a train, or a bus, to another, far far away destination.

Although, the fall from heavens was one of the most excruciatingly brutal ones I had encountered in my existence, I believe that it was actually, a blessing in disguise.

In the spring of this fateful unnamed year, although, I will give it a label, so then, in the fateful spring of X19, he shared a photo on one of his social media accounts; pink lily with a view of a rustic wooden bridge leaping over a small pond in the background. The caption called out for celebrating the hope of something going either spectacularly well, sealing happiness on the long term, or catastrophically wrong, because he was such an optimist. My heart leaped and bound in my chest when I saw this and falsely assumed it was in regards to me. I was a devout pink color and flowers enthusiast; my own social media - the one where this was posted - being majorly constituted of flowers, nature, butterflies and other artistically invasive macro shots of the smaller wonders of nature. Hope is indeed a beautiful silk wearing sharp sword. Assuming that a potential love message was destined for me, solely based off a few flirty interactions, however honest and genuine from my end did not in any way shape or form requested similar authenticity from his end, and I am the only one at fault for having ever believed we had that shared intent towards each other. I was the first to congratulate him on that. Because it's who I am. Even if I had a lingering doubt in the back of my mind, which I unceremoniously hushed and tried to silence. I wanted my happy hopeful dream of eternal bliss and happiness.

But ... nothing happened, for the most of the spring and summer. Flirtation continued, cordial, adorable, silly, fun, light hearted. Burning with passionate fire on my end; calm, cool and collected on his. I should have seen the red flags. But I willfully ignored them.

Came summer and came another wild hope. Maybe he would reveal the recipient of the pink lily at my birthday and make a grand gesture. My heart throbbed and swooned at the hope of it.

And my heart crashed and burned, and broke, and shattered. Although, I will give him credit, he did wait three days after my birthday, so as to not inflict salt and vinegar on the wound he knew he was surely inflicting. The stabbing felt ... actually it felt truly spectacularly painful, given it was a one side fling all along and he had zero obligation to return my sentiments and favors, attachment and dedication and all the lovely sappy romantic feelings I had poured into the hope of potentially one day "us". It was a sharp, barely bearable sting or pinch, like a fire heated sword plunged in the chest, straight through the heart and poking back out, with the distinctive burn and sharp pain through the soul. it's funny though, two years later, as I sit down and memorize this mess, I now only vaguely remember the pain. I remember being there, sitting with a friend, chatting over coffee and cake; my phone lit up with a notification, and curious, because I had recognized his name within a fraction of a glance, I swiped to see what the hubbub was about. And my heart sank and shattered. My friend told me I became livid, as if all life had been rightfully drained from my body from some unseen demonic entity. My hand trembled a little. My mouth was dry. My whole body, apparently was closer in appearance to that of a corpse than a living woman. The happiness, the carefree that had enveloped my friend and had been stripped, ripped right out of a two meter if not more, range and only a sense of heavy cold dread was now upon us. I instantly felt sorry for my friend, to have him dragged in a mess in which he did not belong. With a shaky hand, I rotated my phone and slid it in his direction so that he could see. He slurped his large coke, expecting anything but what was under his eyes, and with his knowledge and appreciation of my situation and feelings, I felt bad and responsible when I heard him, like a distant echo, choking on his beverage, take another sip to calm the irritation down.

I felt a complete fool and a renowned idiot. Pieces of a puzzle t thumped gracefully into one another. Privileged Lady. False Person. The Devil. Three of Cups. Three of Pentacles. The Moon. His thoughts. The Snake. The Cat. It all made sense. Hope had blinded me but now I was seeing clearly. Repeating patterns across various cartomancy and divination systems all told me the same thing. They all tried to warn me and I consciously and foolishly discarded them with a superior hand gesture; you are all wrong. Let me have this. Please. Please be wrong.

And then came September. The Thirteenth of the month, as an odd redemption ark.

[jolie-guerrier]

May - The Emerald Month

"Change, Punch, and Individuality: One or the entirety of the above is the reason you should wear Jewelry" - Iris Apfel. This holds so evident when you need to wear something which really speaks to yourself. It is truly astonishing when you wear your birthstone as it is made appropriate for you. It resembles an endowment of God. We should discuss May! As the title peruses, you've just became more acquainted with your birthstone if May is the month when you were conceived  Wedding Bands A nearby glance at Emeralds

Emeralds are the ideal gemstone for the long stretch of May. It's distinctive tone, wealth and emanating magnificence are suggestive of spring. The rich tone and beautiful green appeal is the explanation it is cherished as a solid competitor for stud hoops, architect pendants and wedding bands since ages and the pattern actually proceeds.

It keeps the wearer quiet and sound. It implies love and demonstrates that you're a harmony adoring individual. You're typically sentimental and tender towards your darling. Intelligence, development, and persistence are keenly spoken to by emeralds.

Interesting Facts of Enchanting Emeralds

Emeralds are the individual from most extraordinary gemstone family. They are significantly harder to discover when contrasted with precious stones.

They have a place with the Beryl family, similar mineral family where greenish blues have a place.

You have consistently considered emeralds to be green however they also arrive in an assortment of shades like dark green to swoon and hazy. The family stones which are regarded too pale are delegated 'Green Beryls'.

The shading itself decides its value. The more profound the shading, the more important the gemstone is. The most important ones are noted to be striking green and pale blue one.

'Try not to lament to have blemishes, you are excellent and valuable in the manner in which you are' demonstrates emeralds. Emeralds get more significant on the off chance that they have, dislike jewels which drop its esteem if have blemishes. Emeralds have inner highlights called incorporations which make an engaging example, along these lines expanding stone's worth.

Emeralds are enormous in size than jewels. While contrasting 2 carats Emerald and 2-carat jewel, you will discover emeralds to be greater in size than precious stones. This is a direct result of the thick organization of gemstones.

The clearness of emeralds can be assessed with an unaided eye, dissimilar to jewels which are assessed under 10 x amplifications.

Emeralds represent eminence and sentiment and have been picked by royals for quite a long time.

They are likewise an image of unceasing youth. It has been found with pyramids that mummies were covered with emeralds around the neck accepting their endlessness of youth.

Emeralds are likewise accepted to have legendary forces. It gives the capacity of premonition and the solidarity to get security against evil. In antiquated occasions, it was additionally accepted that it fixes jungle fever and cholera.

When you have appreciated perusing current realities about your birthstone, you couldn't want anything more than to know the contrast between the normally inferred gemstones and lab-made ones. It isn't to be referenced that normally happening emeralds are difficult to accomplish and subsequently we discover planner precious stone adornments frequently studded with lab-made stones looking like the genuine gemstones.

An Amazing Gift Idea

Why trust that anybody will get your birthstone to you when you can spoil yourself with an emerald-studded adornments? You can think this way and get a few grins contributed as your #1 precious stone rings adorned with the gemstone or jewel pendant set which can be shopped from reasonable to a sumptuous reach, whichever accommodates your spending plan.

Gifting emeralds is likewise a good thought when somebody near your heart has a birthday in the exact month. Why just consider birthday events? As they splendidly pair with jewels, their essence makes the knickknack look radiant. Likewise, you get the opportunity to browse an assortment of shapes like pear, oval and that's just the beginning. This implies you have a great deal of stunning motivations to get them!

[loveintechnicolor]

Wild Hope: Chapter 1

The Spotlight Diner is not exactly the most popular restaurant in town, but it is certainly good enough to fill the place of Breadstix when Santana Lopez short on time during her lunch break. Walking through the front doors of the establishment, the young woman glances over at the hostess desk to find her friend, Rachel Berry, working her normal Tuesday shift. It doesn’t take long for Rachel to catch sight of her, giving a small wave in greeting before going back ringing up the bill for her current customer, a rather familiar blonde.

It does not take long for Santana's brain to register exactly who she is looking. In fact, the realization comes almost instantaneously as she feels her heart start thumping in her chest. The woman's name is Brittany Pierce, a local mechanic Santana has had a crush on ever since the beginning of their freshman year of high school.

Taking a moment to observe the blonde, she notices the navy polo she has tucked neatly into her pants that adorns the logo for Pierce Automotive embroidered into the material. Though the brunette does her best not to blatantly ogle the beautiful woman paying for her lunch, she still manages to fall short of her goal as Rachel catches onto what is happening. Surprisingly enough, however, the other brunette manages to refrain from making a spectacle out what she has witnessed. The only action that gives away the fact that she even notices Santana's staring is the small knowing smirk the hostess fails to suppress as she shifts her focus back to her customer.

It does not take long for the two women to finish their transaction. Once done, Rachel glances over at her friend and teases, "You might as well put up your wallet, Santana, because I still owe you for buying dinner last week."

"It was only a couple of cheap tacos from a food truck, Berry. Stop making such a big deal about it," Santana argues, attempting to make her words carry a tone of indifference as she proceeds to take out the proper amount of cash and hold it out for the other brunette to take.

"No, Santana! I refuse to let you pay. This one is on me," Rachel continues to refuse, pushing her friend's hand away while glancing back and forth between the two patrons. "Now, give me just one moment, and I will be right back with both of your orders."

Brittany instantly looks over to Santana with a broad smile as soon as Rachel is gone, playfully chuckling out, "I guess somethings really do never change, huh?"

"Yeah, she is still just as hardheaded as ever," the brunette grumbles under her breath as she shoves the money back into her purse. It is only then that she realizes the comment must have been spoken just loud enough for Brittany to hear as she watches the woman suddenly throw her head back in laughter before they each quiet back down once again.

Rachel manages to return before the silence that develops between the pair has a chance to become an uncomfortable one, holding out a bag of food for Brittany to take as she informs, "Tina wanted me to let you know that she threw in an extra order of food for Mike. She was hoping you wouldn’t mind bringing it to him."

"Nah, I don’t mind at all! Thanks again, Rachel," Brittany responds before tipping her head at the other brunette. "It was good to see you, Santana. Don't be a stranger."

"Oh, um-Yes. You, uh, too?" Santana momentarily stumbles over her words as she fails to form a complete thought, causing Brittany to release another airy giggle. Santana blushes even harder than before as her body tenses with embarrassment, but she manages to ease up once the young mechanic moves past her and out the restaurant. Allowing her eyes to remain trained on the spot where she last sees Brittany, Santana continues to watch on as the front door slowly closes behind the woman.

"Geez, you still have it bad. After what? Almost a decade?" Rachel inquires with a knowing smirk as she breaks Santana out of her daze.

Turning her focus back towards the hostess, she finds the woman already holding out a second bag of food for her to take. Snatching the plastic sack from her friend's hand, Santana grumbles, "Shut it, Streisand."

The server rapidly throws her hands up in mock defeat, conceding, "Alright, alright. I was just pointing out the obvious."

"I know,” Santana mutters, allowing her shoulders to slump in forward slightly. “She's just-She's Brittany, you know? How could I not like her?"

"Wow, who'd have thought the HBIC of McKinley High would still be hung up on the same girl after all these years? This might be kind of obvious, Santana, but you two could have probably already started dating her by now if you would just girl up and admit your feelings to her. That is, if the rumors from back in high school were true."

"Ugh, not this again. She never liked me, Rachel. At least, I'm sure not like that."

"That's not what I heard."

"What you heard was probably just a lie some dumbass jocks came up with because they were too bored with their own lame, moronic lives."

"Or they were telling the truth and she actually liked you."

"Berry, let's be real. Brittany Susan Pie-"

"Oh, God. You even remember her middle name?"

"Yeah, yeah. Make fun all you want. All I am trying to say is that Brittany Susan Pierce is the most beautiful, kindhearted genius who has ever graced this godforsaken planet, and while I would absolutely love to entertain the idea that she would actually be interested in a person like me, I still owe it to myself be realistic about those odds."

"What in the world is so unrealistic about her being interested in you? I mean, she's an out and proud bisexual, and you are kind of gorgeous."

"Yes, Berry, I am well aware that being a woman with the goods,” Santana mentions, motioning to her ample chest, “is most likely not be a negative factor in this equation. What I'm talking about is the fact that I am an insecure bitch who hid behind a cheerleader persona all throughout high school to avoid having to accept the fact that I am a raging lesbian, which I actually mean that quite literally. Like, I genuinely have problems with always going to the yelling place because I have so much rage. My breasts literally ache with it, I get so mad sometimes."

"Yes, all of that might have been true way back when, but that still doesn’t make the older, wiser you unworthy of love.”

"Okay, I think we've had enough rehashing of old times for one day, Babs," Santana grunts as she glances down to look at the designer watch strapped to her wrist. "I should probably be heading back to the office anyway. We should hang out soon. I might even let you drag me to that bar that has the karaoke night again as long as you promise to buy the first round and keep the Broadway selections to a minimum."

An elated expression immediately forms the Rachel's face as she processes her friend's offer and giddily informs, "Deal! I will be holding you to that offer, Santana, so you better not forget."

"Yeah, yeah. I won't. Anyway, thanks again for lunch."

"Don't even worry about it! Have a good rest of the day."

"Will do. See ya, Rachel," the woman assures with a pseudo-salute before she turns to head outside.

Walking across the parking lot, Santana unlocks her sleek new car and slips into the driver's seat. After placing her takeout on the passenger floorboard, she slides the key into the ignition and turns it only to hear a loud whirling noise from the engine turning. She holds off for a brief moment before trying again, but the car continues to let out the same squealing sound to no avail.

Bending her head forward to rest between her hands atop the steering wheel, she quietly scolds herself for not having seen this coming. It is true that the vehicle has been giving her some trouble the past couple of weeks, but it has never just simply refused to start before. If anything, she had figured it was just the brand new car breaking itself in after being purchased a month ago.

Suddenly, there is a loud knock on the window that causes Santana’s entire body to give a sharp jolt. Snapping her gaze over to look out the driver's side window, she quickly spots the same blonde she had seen only moments before and slaps a hand to her chest in an attempt to calm the forceful beating of her heart. Rolling down the window, she shakily yelps out, "Holy shit, Brittany! I thought you already left."

"Oh! Sorry for scaring you, Santana. I was just getting ready to leave when I noticed you might be having some car trouble. I thought I might offer to help, if that's okay."

"Oh, um,” Santana momentarily hesitates, still trying to calm herself down as she processes the woman’s offer. “Yeah. Yes. I'd actually really appreciate that. Thank you."

"No problem at all. Now, let's see what we've got going on." Pointing at the front end of the car, she asks, "Mind if I take a look under the hood?"

"Knock yourself out," Santana assures, reaching down to pull the lever designed to pop open the bonnet of the vehicle. She then watches as the hood is lifted and locked into an upwards position, effectively blocking the other woman from her sight.

"Okay, now try to crank the engine again please," Brittany's voice requests while the blonde mechanic continues to inspect the engine compartment. Confused, Santana does what is asked of her, causing the motor to recreate the same noise as before. "Alright, that's enough. Thank you," Brittany adds after only a few seconds, much to Santana's relief.

Taking a moment to wipe her hands off on her jeans, the mechanic walks over to the driver's side door and notifies Santana, "Well, it looks like you might have a dead battery. I can get my car over here and try to give you a jump. If that works, we can head over to the shop to test it with one of our multimeters. If the battery is bad, we can get you a replacement installed. That is, as long as you have the time and are okay with that plan."

"Yeah, I guess that's the best option we have at the moment. Let me just call my mother to let her know that I won't be coming back to work anytime soon," the woman informs as she reaches over to retrieve her phone from the purse seated in the passenger’s seat.

"Oh, I can drive you to the office if you need me to. It honestly wouldn't be any trouble."

"No, it's alright. She will understand," the brunette responds, giving a nonchalant wave of her hand while scrolling through her contacts until she finds the one she is looking. Before connecting the call, she assures, "You can go ahead and get your truck. This should only take a second."

Once Brittany is out of ears reach, Santana dials her mother’s office number and listens as the line begins to ring. After only a few short moments, the woman hears a familiar voice answer the call, greeting, “Hello, this is Maribel Lopez with Lopez Financial Services. How may I help you?”

“Hey, Mami, it’s me. I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be returning to work anytime soon. My car battery apparently died while I was out picking up lunch so I’m about to take it in to get it replaced.”

“Okay, Sweetheart. Do you need me to call a tow truck or anything?”

“No, that’s okay. Brittany Pierce is here helping me out. She’s actually about to jump start my car so we can drive it over to her shop.”

“Ah, I see. Brittany Susan Pierce, huh?”

“Yes, Brittany Susan Pierce, Mother. Look, Rachel has already given me enough crap about that so I would prefer to not have anyone else teasing me today.”

“I’m sorry, Santanita. I promise to leave you be.”

“Thank God,” Santana hums out in a relieved tone when she notices that Brittany parking her car right in front of her own. “Hey, Brittany’s back so I should probably let you go for now.”

“Okay, don’t worry about things here. I’ll have any calls you may have forwarded to me for the rest of the day.”

“Perfect. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, Honey. I hope Brittany can get you all fixed up.”

“I’m sure she will. Talk to you later, Mami.”

“Bye, Mija.”

Brittany appears back at her car window almost as soon as the line goes dead, leaning over slightly so she can properly see Santana and asks, “Everything alright with work?”

“Yep, my mom has it covered. You ready?”

The blonde beams at the woman as she gives her a thumbs up in confirmation and quietly turns to walk back towards her own vehicle. Once she manages to properly hook up the jumper cables to each of their batteries, she lets her truck run for a few more minutes before giving Santana the signal to turn her key in the ignition. Both women give a long sigh of relief at the sound of the car’s engine roaring to life after only a few short moments of it failing to turn over. With a pleased grin, Brittany walks back over to safely remove the wires so they can make their way to the garage.

The drive is a rather quick one, and before she knows it, Santana is making her way past a familiar sign that reads Pierce Automotive: Lima's One Stop Auto Shop. Parking in front of the establishment, Santana stands up out of the vehicle and realizes, “God, I haven’t been here in years. In fact, I’m pretty sure the only time I have ever been here was when my abuelo had to bring his old clunker in for an oil change while my parents were out of town on business, but that was forever ago. It’s obvious that there have been some major renovations since then.”

“Yeah, I actually had some work done on the place as soon as my grandfather gave me his blessing.”

“Well, I certainly like the changes,” Santana notes as she takes in the new white and navy blue color scheme that has replaced the old green and red paint job she remembers. “It makes the place look more open and inviting.”

“Thanks! I think so, too,“ Brittany chirps as she continues to lead Santana inside through on of the open garage doors.

As they make their way through the Pierce Automotive, the shop owner proceeds to greet each of her mechanics, and Santana cannot help but admire the level of respect each of the workers appear to have for the woman. The level of esteem they hold for their boss shows clearly on each and every one of their faces as the women pass them on their way through the establishment.

Just as they walk past a row of tool boxes, the pair spot Burt Hummel, the father of one of their high school classmates, knelt down beside another mechanic lying underneath the truck they are currently working on. Once the man catches sight of them, he gives a nod of his head in greeting as a pleasant smile pulls at his lips.

“Hello, Burt. How are things going over here?”

“We’re just about done replacing Mr. Wortham’s master cylinder and brake fluid. All that’s left after that is an oil change and tire rotation, which we should have done in no time.”

“Good! That’s what I like to hear.”

Just then, a familiar burly gentleman rolls out from under the vehicle who Santana recognizes to be David Karofsky, another one of their fellow classmates and the longtime boyfriend of Kurt Hummel. After giving the brunette a small nod in acknowledgement, David turns to inform Brittany, "Kurt was looking for you earlier, Britt. I told him I’d send you his way once you got back."

“Alright, I’ll head over to his office once I deliver this food,” the blonde responds, motioning her head to bag of takeout she still held in her hand. Turning to continue her path through the garage, Brittany throws over her shoulder, “Thanks for the heads up, Dave.”

“No problem, Boss,” the young mechanic calls out after her before laying back down on the mechanic’s creeper and returning to his work.

It does not take long for Brittany to find Michael Chang by the back sink, thoroughly washing his hands with an orange-scented degreasing scrub. Clapping her hand on his shoulder, Brittany hold up their meals for the man to see and lets him know, “Tina asked me to make a special delivery. Hungry?”

“I’m starving! Thanks Britt,” Mike excitedly grinned as he quickly dries his hands on a blue shop towel and takes the container of food Brittany holds out for him. Noticing Santana standing a few feet behind his friend, a curious expression crosses his face as he looks back and forth between the two as he inquires, “Are you two on a lunch date or something?”

The two women’s eyes each bug out briefly before Brittany rushes to sputter out, “W-What? No! Not at all. Santana was just having some car troubles, so we drove over here to get her all fixed up.”

“Oh, wow. I’m so sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking,” Mike rushes to amend with a faint blush dusting his cheeks, quickly motioning towards the bag of food Santana was holding, as well, “I just saw that you both had food from the diner and assumed. My bad.”

"It's alright. I was just planning to eat some while Brittany works on my ca-"

"Oh, thank God you are back, Brittany! Dalton Auto won’t stop calling again. They keep trying to make offers," the shop’s receptionist and accountant, Kurt Hummel, abruptly cuts in before Santana can finish her statement. For once, however, she does not mind the interruption as she chances a look over at the blonde only to find Brittany standing there with a tense look on her face.

"Okay, I’ll deal with it once I am done replacing Santana’s battery," Brittany notifies through gritted teeth, visibly irritated with the news she has just received.

“Sorry, Britt.”

“It’s alright, Kurt. It’s not your fault,” Brittany assures while setting her food down on a nearby tool box. Turning back around to face the front of the shop, the blonde asks, “Ready to get started, Santana?”

“Uh, yeah, sure thing,” Santana timidly replies as she moves to carefully follow behind the blonde, unsure what else she could possibly do after Brittany’s rapid change in mood. It isn’t until about midway through Brittany changing her battery that she decides to finally break the silence that had developed between them, quietly asking, “Hey, everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Just another corporate auto shop taking all our business and then attempting to buy us out once they have successfully forced us into the red,” Brittany grunts in an aggravated tone before suddenly remembering who she is talking to. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be venting like that with customers, even ones I’ve sort of known for years.”

"It’s okay. If you want, maybe I could try to help. I mean, I work in investing now, so-I don’t know. I’m just sort of spit balling here."

"Thanks for your offer, Santana, but I’ll have to turn it down. Sorry," Brittany states, her tone blunter than usual which catches Santana completely off guard.

“Oh, o-okay then," Santana stutters out at hearing Brittany's abrupt response. "I hope it isn’t because I've only been working at my mom’s firm for a few months. I mean, I am completely aware that I’m still fresh out of college, but my mom, you know, she is an extremely experienced investor. I’m sure together we can figure out a way help you-“

“No, I promise it's not about that at all. Experienced or not, I am absolutely positive you are good at what you do," Brittany interrupts before the brunette can get the wrong idea. Releasing a small sigh, Brittany calmly elaborates, "If I am being honest, the reason I cannot accept your offer is strictly because of my pride. My grandfather never needed anyone else’s help when it came to keeping his business afloat. He was always able to find a way to make things work, so I owe it to his legacy to trust in myself enough to find a way out of this. Alone.”

“Oh, um, alright. That-That’s totally understandable. Of course,” Santana stumbles over her words, clearly embarrassed with herself for even speaking up while also hoping she has not made Brittany feel uncomfortable or pressured to accept outside help. “Just forget I even said anything. I’m sure you know what you are doing. You’re super smart, especially when it comes to numbers, so you probably don’t even need my help.“

Brittany is just about to respond to the brunette’s statement when she feels her thoughts come to a screeching halt, leaving her mouth gaping and the unspoken words still resting on the tip of her tongue. Once Santana's statement fully catch up to her, the blonde mechanic quirks her eyebrows and asks, “Wait, how do you know that?”

“Huh?”

“How do you know that I am good with numbers?”

“Because I, um-“ The question leaves Santana's brain reeling once more, but she soon regains her bearings and answers, “I mean, how could I not? You were on the academic decathlon team. Our school would have never managed to win the State Championship our senior year if it hadn’t been for you getting that question right about some really complicated math theory. God, what was it called again? Ree-something.”

"The Riemann hypothesis?"

A triumphant grin quickly spreads its way across the woman's face as she excitedly answers, "Yeah! That's the one!"

Brittany appears to be even more stunned as before as she confesses, “I can’t believe you even know about that, let alone remember it.”

“Of course I do! Doesn’t everyone?”

“No, not at all. Hell, almost everyone still thinks I'm just a dumb blonde who barely got her high school diploma.”

“Well, the vast majority of the people in this town are complete idiots, so I wouldn’t put too much weight in their opinions.”

“Thank you for saying that. It really means a lot to hear someone say that. Also, please don’t get the wrong idea about what I said. I really do appreciate your offer. It’s just that it is only my second year of owning the shop, and I just feel the need to prove to everyone, including myself, that the faith my grandfather had wasn’t ill placed.”

“I get it, Brittany. Honestly. Just know that the offer still stands if you ever change your mind. There’s no expiration date with this one.”

“Well, thanks again for offering."

“No worries, Britt. It’s the least I can do," Santana reaffirms as she starts taking out her wallet. “So, how much do I owe you for today?”

“Nothing. Consider it a gift for being a first time customer.”

Snapping her gaze back up to glare at the woman, Santana argues, “Brittany, I don’t mean to overstep any more than I already have but giving away car batteries isn’t exactly good business practice. We both know you cannot afford to give me free service, so just tell me how much I owe before I just hand you three hundred dollars and walk out."

"Nope, I'll just mail it back to your house if you do."

“Damn it. Come on, Brittany! You did me a huge favor today, and I am not leaving properly paying you back," Santana asserts to no avail. Quickly realizing Brittany was not going to budge on her response, the brunette rolls her eyes in exasperation before glancing around in an attempt to find the nearest mechanic she happens to know. After a few seconds of looking, she notices a certain ex-football player in the middle of tightening the bolts to the front tire of an SUV and calls out, “Hey, Karofsky. Sorry to interrupt, but can you please tell me how much a battery replacement generally costs?”

“Dave, do not answer that question!" Brittany snaps out at the man, causing his body to seize up in surprise.

Santana's facial expression hardens even further as she allows herself to slip back into her high school mentality, giving the man her best death glare as she growls, “No, David, you tell me the price right this minute or I’ll be forced to tell Kurt every single embarrassing thing I have ever learned about you, including that time you-”

“Okay! Enough, enough!” the man rapidly shouts out. He then shifts his gaze back and forth between the two women with a conflicted expression before nervously informing the brunette, “We, um, typically charge about eighty-five dollars to put in a new battery, but the one Brittany installed is the premium model, which usually goes for roughly a hundred and twenty.”

“Ah, fantastic! Sorry for having to play dirty, Karofsky. I promise to cover your entire tab the next time I see you at the bar,” Santana apologizes with a sympathetic look before forking out enough cash to cover the costs. Holding it out for the other woman to take, Santana teases with a victorious grin, “Keep the change, Britt-Britt.”

Though still frustrated with how the events played out, the shop owner still takes the offered payment from the other woman and tosses it onto the countertop beside the register. After ringing up the expenses, she slips the money into the drawer and takes out a few bills and coinage before walking back over, holding the change and a receipt out for Santana to take while informing, “We don’t accept tips.”

Releasing a quiet sigh, Santana immediately surrenders as she responds, “Okay, fine. I understand. Sorry again about having to resort to using dirty tactics. It just didn't feel right to not pay you for all your help, and that was the quickest way to figuring out how much I owe."

“It's fine. Just please try to refrain from scaring my mechanics shitless the next time you’re in here,” Brittany requests as she finishes up the battery installation, a barely-there grin of her own starting to slowly dance its way across her lips.

“I'll be on my very best behavior. I promise," Santana teases before tacking on, "That is, as long as you promise to keep my previous offer in mind.”

“Don't worry, I will. Just don’t get offended if I never take you up on it.”

“I hope you won't need to."

"Neither do I," Brittany chuckles out with an airy laugh. Realizing that their brief encounter was coming to a close, Brittany escorts the woman to the car's front door and pulls it open for her as she tells the brunette, "You know, I never realized how stubborn you are. You might even have Rachel beat."

"I guess it's exactly like you said, then. Some things never change," Santana chuckles as she turns to leave. "I’ll see you around, Brittany.”

"Yeah, see you around, Santana," Brittany calls after her, her small grin pulling into a giddy smile as she watches the woman pull out of the garage and drive away.

Read on FF.Net

[dukevividwriting]

Convember:Crossover SU X Multi series

Steven Universe life has never been normal. Being a gem hybrid, a diamond…..A child of a rebel leader who played both sides in an attempt to bring peace, and having to clean up said parent mistakes...Had ran it course..He took it with as much stride as he could and in the end succeed in bringing relative peace throughout his galaxy.

Of course he couldn't have done it alone. He had help from his family, the Crystal Gems. Pearl, the closest thing he had to a mother. She cooked,cleaned,schooled him and was a bit smothering. Always worried about him and hardly enough about herself.  He hoped she was taking care of herself back home.

        Amethyst; his smaller-older sister, shorty squad member, fellow 'worst gem’ and ‘most mature Crystal gem', and the most human. Always there for a prank or a talk, always ready to lounge around.  

Garnet; the leader and heart of the crystal gems. Respected and respectful, wise, forthright, and loving. Always around for advice, to guide, and to guard her fellow man and gem. To stand up against any who would dare hurt her family or friends. She was his hero. one of them.

    Bismuth; Friend to all who needed it. Always ready with a pun or a new project in her forge. Strong in body and heart. He wondered what new armament she’ll have when they stop for a visit.

   Peridot; Lovable, excitable,  and quirky. Always ready to share her new meep morphs, technological  project or her thoughts on pop culture..Mostly Camp Pining Hearts. He wonders if she's enjoying the reboot.

Lapis Lazuli: His beach summer fun buddy, arguably the most powerful of them,  in the right circumstance. Once a sad gem filled with self-loathing for her past actions and a sarcastic  cold demeanor due to her past captivity, now a calmer, happier person. Someone who you can see flying freely over Little Homeworld with a nymph  like giggle.

He missed them so much. Being away from the gems did make him worry. As he walked out of the bedroom he shared and began to transverse the ship, he being to wonder if they were  getting to any fights or arguments..Wonder if his father,Greg was keeping the peace all right. He missed him even more than the gems.He missed Beach City and Little Homeworld. He missed Homeworld and earth...He missed their Dimension.

The nineteen year old missed them dearly..was he nineteen or twenty? The calendar in this world was hard to understand and all the 'verse' hopping didn't help either. Regardless, he wasn't lonely at all. It was hard to be with the group they had gathered.

As he walked by an open room he eye caught sight of a man and woman sharing a bed. Sleeping with a cloak over them was the bounty hunter named Sol Badguy and his lover Aria, formally known as Jack-o . While Sol wasn't the nicest guy around he more than proved to be loyal and a good guy at least. He was blunt with his advice and a bit lazy at times..but when you have the power and strength that he has, he could afford to be.

Resting cozy in Sol's arm and lap was Aria,and despite her looks she was just as powerful as the man she leaned against. She was the nicer of the two and very intuitive. She had the aura of a mature older sister, always willing to lend an ear or a shoulder when needed.

Leaving them be and closing the door to their room,  Steven continued his walk. he came into one of the living areas; a spacious room very fantastically  and futuristically furnished. Across from entranced the laid Yuri lowell on crimson recliner a book between his chest and hand, slightly snoring.  Steven spared him a glance before looking around the room. He sighed as his search turned up empty.

    As he was about to continue on his search, he was accidentally bumped into by the pink hair and blue eyes of a nobility; Estellise Sidos Heurassein, Estelle for short. After apologize with a giggle, Steven  indicated where a certain vagabond sleeping with left nod of the head. She peered in and sighed slightly annoyed, slightly adoringly as she walked to the sleeping man and playfully poked his face. Only for him poke her back and pull her down with him.

  He allowed himself to smile at the antics, before  moving on...No need to watch a couple at play. He made his way along the corridor walking pass  empty and unused bedrooms and soon found himself going down the elevator to the first level of the ship.

As soon as he walked out he caught a whiff of something sweet in the air, like fried cookie cat sweet. He followed in a trance like state, his sweet tooth and stomach urging him to find the source of this aroma.. . It led him to the kitchen and as soon as he entered, He walked right back out and ran away.

    He was not going to taste any of Noel Vermillion cooking. He did feel bad but.. he ate her food once and saw his life flash before his eyes, not in the pleasant way either.He felt bad cause Noel along with Estelle was one of the sweetest people you could ever meet.  Helpful and kind to a fault, even able to get the sarcastic and cool Yuri and Mr.Badguy himself to smile or smirk genuinely.

He turned the corner to see one Ragna the bloodedge..Looking quite sick, green as his right eye. It didn't  take long for Steven to put two and two together. He looked at the older man quizzically, he knew better not to eat Noel food, hell he warned  them not to eat his sisters cooking.

Ragna looked up at the hybrid and held a cup of water shaking it. Steven smirked   before sticking his finger in his mouth getting a good amount of healing essence and sticking it into Ragna's cup, swirling  it around. Ragna looked slightly disgusted but he drowned the water with gusto. he shivered over how disgusting it was to drink someone saliva, but  couldn't deny the quick and powerful results.

With a stretch the rebel patted the younger man on the shoulder giving him an appreciative  nod before heading back to the kitchen in hope of getting the blonde girl out of there before she kill anyone else.

Steven shrugged wishing him luck, before continuing  his way. Past the control room..He doubt who he was looking for would be there at this time..Especially since the ship A.I was in control. As his travel continued something caught his ear, the sounds of battle.

With a smile, Steven upped his pace towards the sounds of clashing weapons and grunts. It took him all but 30 seconds for him to reach the giant sliding doors.with a press of a glowing red button to the left of the doors, he was allowed entry.

Inside was a modest balcony with a protective  window pane, a control module and a door on the left. Sitting by said module was a young man of similar age, one of the first people that they recruited on this journey, Jude mathis. The man took a quick glance at the hybrid before turning his head back forward, back to what was going on beyond the balcony. Steven was quick to join him the sparkle in his eyes and grin on his face said it all.

Beyond the balcony was unprecedented and always awestucking.  Below was land, air, water or whatever someone wished it to be as long as they've been there.. At the moment it was a place Steven knew very well..It been months since he saw it.. The ruins.

In the ruins two warriors were sparring, clashing sword to sword, fist to fist, foot to foot; each with shallow cuts and slight bruising on various parts of their bodies.  One was a tall, beautiful young woman with pink eyes and long, blonde hair that reaches down to her waist. Dressed in a high thigh, form fitting blue and white dress, with long thigh high boots and matching gauntlets., Mila Maxwell; The lord of Spirits from Reize Maxia

The other was slightly younger.. but was just as beautiful (If you asked Steven, moreso). With skin of brown and eyes of black pearls, full lips and curly  deep brown hair that stopped at her mid back was held in a top bun-braid combo, thanks to the star bralette in her hair. Her body: full figured shapley, and built for battle; was adorned in a cobalt Kalaripayattu outfit with a crimson sash, cobalt shoes and mid-finger gauntlets that matched her sash. Connie Maheswaran..Crystal gem..and partially awaken Lord of the Universe.

Something they have been working to ratify since the start of their journey, and bring to full fruition.Something they need to succeed in unless existence itself ceases to well.. Exist. One of the ways through exercise and battle like this, attempting to force it out.

The two clashed and pushed their blades against each, eyes locked in determination and excitement on their face. The sound of the blondes rapier scraping against the brunettes shortsword as they struggled for supremacy, only added to their fun. A share of taunting chuckles came from each other as they try to figure out how to take advantage of this deadlock.

Connie was the first to make a move as she slightly loosened her grip on her blade, allowing Mila full momentum to throw the lord of spirits of balanced as, as Connie shifted her body and step to the left side of her friend momentarily out of her sight. Using the momentum and the opening, Connie swung her right foot to the back of blonds knee, sweeping her feet from under her.

Mila landed hard on her back with a groan, but recovered quickly; rolling back to her feet in a crouch, holding her hand out, a green circle of mana around her.

“Pierce through! Wind Lance!” .

A green arc of wind  based mana flew from her hand, straight towards Connie. The indian woman grimace as she blocked with her sword being pushed back a little, feeling the wind still knick her stomach slightly.

Earth, cry out! Rock Trine! "

Connie eyes widen when she saw a yellowish triangular glyph appear below her. Letting her instinct take over The woman leapt up just out of the way of the rock pillars rising up to stab her. Quite higher than a normal human would.

Flames come forth! Fireball!

Connie swore as she saw and felt the flame sphere head toward her. She took a chance tossing her blade at milia, causing to  the sphere to explode as it flew through; unfortunately Connie was still close enough to feel a bit of the shockwave, being blown back a bit more.

She did hear the clang of Swords and the grimace of her opponent..

‘Guess where both disarmed now...Though she still have access to her worlds workings and mana' Connie thoughts were interrupted when she saw a blue sphere of water above her.

“Oh Fu--”

She didn’t get the chance to finish as a torrent of water collided with her, throwing her down to the earth below, pounding and beating her body harsly.  She breath haggardly as she climbed to her feet drenched, coughing up some water left from that attack. She growled in irritation and determination. Not at Mila, but at herself.  She took a deep breath before calming herself, placing her hands in the meditative symbol garnet taught her and Steven as Stevonnie.

Her eyes changed slightly but gaining what look like a four point star and each of her pupils the size of a pin.

“ Shadowing”

Her voice seemed to have a bit of an echo as she spoke. While it seemed as if nothing happened that was far from the truth. Seeing that Mila was not running but gliding towards her, sword in hand caused her to smirk.

“ Splash!”

Seeing the water bubble over her head again,  kickstart her mind and in a low almost whisper, Connie spoke.

  “Lapis lazuli.”

Wings similar to her fellow crystal temp appeared on her back, the only difference they were black as shadows. As the water, Connie raised her hands, shakingly stopping the waters fall before tossing it towards Milia who dodge the stream .Connie leapt back before flying towards Milia, no where near the speed of Lapis, but still faster than Mila expected.

“Bismuth.”

With a twist the Lord-to-be, substituted the wings, for warhammers hands, slamming them towards the left side of the spirit lord, who despite blocking the blow still tossed towards a nearby pillar. Mila through stinging pain righted herself and landed on the pilar before bounding of it, towards her opponent.

Mila slammed her blade against Connie hammers with her whole weight behind it. The force pushed the young woman back and slightly off balance. Mila landed on bended knees before she followed through with a horizontal slash towards  Connie face. She successfully laid a shallow cut upon the bridge of the Maheswarans nose as Connie fell back.

Using the momentum of the fall and the hammers as a balance, Connie backed flipped away from Mil, kicking her chin in the process. The Maheswaran leapt  back as the hammers vanished in a wisp of smoke. She clenched her hands thrice, getting a feeling for them.

'Ten seconds still for 'Bismuth'...Not ideal but better than five.'

" Peridot."

Connie leapt over Mila attempt  to stab her abdominal, countering three kicks towards the spirit  lords head, which were blocked by their blade. On the third kick she used mila as spring board jumped back and high into the air.

Hmm!"  Mila stood before kneeling down.

"CLOUD PIERCE!"

She leapt diagonally upward towards Connie with her sword pointing forward, spinning clockwise, the thrust emitting blue energy.

As she watched her come Connie held her left hand in a gripping fashion she pulled it back towards her.

"KKSH! KSHKSHKSH!"

The sounds of weapons clashing resounded as Connie sword back in to her hands, clashed against Mila attack. Try as she might though she couldn't keep the defense up as Mila was able to breakthrough. The blue energy hit her on the side, shaving and burning her outfit and skin, while tossing her back towards the ground, with a dust gathering crash.

"Amethyst ."

Just as mila was finishing her attack a shadow colored imitation of the gems whip, snapped around her waist and swung her into the ground hard, releasing  before impact. Mila coughed as she felt her back slammed into the ring. Mila groaned for a moment getting her bearings before seeing Connie bruised, battered, but smirking; run out of the cloud. Sword in her left, whip in her right.

Connie snapped the whip towards the spirit lord, putting her on the defensive. She wasn't  as efficient as the namesake, but she at least has mila on her toes and kept the lord from moving closer. With one lucky snap, she was able to knock  the weapon out of her hands roughly and closer to a smug Connie . With a running leap and a elegant twist, Connie swung the whip down ward. A trail of grayish flanes ran across the stone covered whip as it nearly collided with the lord of spirits blocking hand...only for it to dissipate before contact, leaving Connie a bit drained..and very open as she landed in front of Mila in a crouch.

Mila stretched out her hand towards connie as a sphere of fire appeared in her palm..only to be accompanied by two more each  to a side of the Maheswaran. She smirked at the look of defiance on her protege. She leapt back to escape blast range.

"Flare Bomb!"

"Gar-"

Connie voice was smothered by the blinding explosion of spheres. Smoke stood where Connie was but Mila stood ready. Connie, if anything proved to be resilient, vigilant, and at times relentless in her pursuits. Time has taught her that. Mila eyes widen and her instinct screamed to dodge as Connie shot of the smoke, worse than wear,  shadow version of Garnet's gauntlets on her hands.

Connie swung with a mighty right hook, that would have  took of the lord of Spirits head, if she didn't duck, did take of some strands of  hair though and caused a bit of a shockwave. Connie raised her left and try to bring it down on her opponent only to have her miss again cratering the place once stood.

She coughed as she felt a fist to the left side and swung towards the source, meeting air and receiving  another fist to her midsection. Connie growled as she a round house towards the source this time hitting the forearm of mila, a block. Connie  was thrown off by the Spirit lord for a moment before using the momentum to land into a handstand. Splitting her legs, she spun her body around attempting to break Mila guard, with a flurry  of helicopter kicks.

Mila grunted against assault. Each kick feeling like a steel rod beating against her arms  continuously. After the sixth hit Mila dropped her guard for a moment.

at the same time,  Connie dropped to her feet and drove her gauntlet to milia guarded stomach. It was enough to send the blonde flying back  many yards.

Mila righted herself in skid it back near a  broken pillar seeing her sword nearby. The spirit lord watched as the brunette charge, slower because of the gauntlets. She  lifted her beaten arms up and began to speak

"O spurring wind, scatter like flowers! Arriverderci!"

Connie stopped her charge as she saw the light green glyph appear below her. From it she felt the gust of wind and petals, knocking her upward and giving her a bevy of shallow cuts all over , grunting  all the while. She twisted herself right before disengaging the gauntlets.

"Pearl"

From Garnet gauntlets to Pearl's  spear, a weapon Connie knew very well. She pointed shadow imitation at milia and launched a volley of energy bullets at the blond, putting Mila on the evasive as she fell.

Mila charged dodging shot after shot picking up her blade, she met Connie  with a horizontal slash from above as she landed, clashing weapon to weapon before leaping back just bit.

The two women swung, clashed  and evaded each others blows neither giving the other an inch of space. For every step back met with a step forward. Every party an attack..It was a beautiful  dance of blades.Connie did get the first clean hit by partying a stab to the left and kicking her straight to the gut knocking her back in a tumble.

Connie breathed tiredly as the spear disappeared..She could feel her time running short as she blinked her eyes. she could feel the power waning. she smirked, she lasted longer than usual. That's a plus especially when utilizing ' shadowing' .. It does eat up a lot of her time and energy, more so when it dissipates by itself..She figured she had at least three to four minutes left...Better make it count.

Mila shook her head and got up with a grunt. She rotated shoulders and with pride she saw Connie charging toward her..Sword in hand. Conjuring the mana needed in a purple glyph circle surrounding her. With a reach towards her connie, spirit lord  commanded

“Bolt Strike!”

A giant shadow and the sound of crackling caused connie looked up...and her eyes widened in shock. A sphere of dark purple energy above the ground, and after several seconds of waiting, several lightning bolts struck down from it  at random directions, in her general area.

Connie jumped, duck, and dodged the deadly making attack the best she could.. Only to find herself in the middle of four lighting bolts aiming straight at her..

" BISCUIT!"

Instantly familiar 'shing' of the pink diamond  shield was heard..except it was a darker pink.. A shadow but much more solid than the others, make sense, this is the weapon,the power she knows just as well as her own.

Using the shield, she reflected the lighting at the caster, who dodged  by cartwheeling to the left. Sh charged tossing not one but three shields at Mila, who dodged two and  knocked the third into the air only to catch back in her hand and slamming it back down onto her blade, pushing her back.

Mila couldn't escape Connie ferocity. Any where she went Connie  was on her Shield and sword in hand, elegant and deadly. She ducked under a swing losing some  hair from Connie's sword, responding with an uppercut that met her shield Mila pressed her palm on it .

"Flare bomb!"

The explosion gave Mila the seconds she need to jump away and prepare her attack.

"Shining Prism!"

Milla conjured a white hexagon under the smoke where Connie stood, with four shining hexagons around the edges of the ground hexagon. The hexagons then rotate counterclockwise as a series of white rays bounces several times from the walls. They tore through the smoke revealing  a dark pink bubble; with Connie in the middle. The light couldn't penetrate it.

Connie started to charge after mila bubble still activated Muscling through spell after spell  to drag her into close combat. Once close enough Connie deactivated the bubble Swinging her blade diagonally  towards Milan's throwing her off balance.She followed though with a smack of her Shield throwing mila back.

Mila watched as she came yet again and smiled.. The pride in her protege and friend was immense. She felt a bit sad for what  she was about to do. Milla crouched low drawing her left hand behind her, summoning a ball of red energy in it. She charged at her opponent with an open palm.

"Overdrive!"

The met in a destructive clash, the reflexive  force of the shield versus the overwhelming power of the orb, godly beings struggling against each other ,neither willing to give the other an inch.

Connie could only look in  a mixture of defeat and satisfaction as the shield. and orb  canceled our each other causing an implosion between the two.. The last thing Connie remembered  is her shield getting shattered, And both her and Mila flying back.

When Connie opened her eyes she nearly cried..She was at beach house..In Steven's room. She walked over to the balcony  and her heart exploded in joy..Steven, the gems, Her parents, Greg and lion..They were at the beach..She was home. She looked further down the beach and saw the group they gathered on their multiverse adventure.. She laughed as she raced to join them  only to turn around and see a white nearly demonic version of herself.. She didn't get to scream as the wraith god jumped on her.

Connie scream woke up the person next to her, Steven as he grabbed her by the shoulders, rubbing them gently. She looked around and realize they were on the ship in the room sh..She sighed as she turned to Steven  who looked worried. She grabbed his hand seething a bit at her own movements.

She felt lingers of the battle  Steven, of course seeing this, did what he always did. He gripped her chin and kissed her tenderly..Healing and exciting her as she moaned both thank you and a hunger for more.

Connie grabbed him and pulled him down with her, cuddling close with his legs between her thighs  instinctively rubbing against him. arms around his big torso head by his heart taking in his still beach city scent. She felt at home here In his arms.The fact that he held her similarly made it even better.

It was late though..too late to talk about their moment of homesickness..or the nightmares or training..or theirs ragtag team.or the fate of the goddamn multiverse..All they wanted right now was to hold and he held by the piece of their home within their grasp...Each other.

[nookishposts]

Love Stories

I think we can agree that the “wiser” part of “older” is insidious. We recognise our ageing in the mirror, both the one in our bathroom and in the reflection of our contemporaries. Cosmetic procedures aside, we see and eventually come to accept, perhaps even be a little proud of those crinkles in our skin; at the corners of our eyes and the edges of our smiles. If we still wear a bra, the foundations have to be a bit more shored up lest the “girls” escape and go sailing. Bandeaus don’t bind like they used to. Shirts get left un-tucked. Our favorite shoes become the ones we can wear longest without fatigued feet. Comfort is more and more of a determining factor than style. But don’t misunderstand me, we have evolved a style unlike any we have followed before, and I can’t wait to see where it takes us.  It’s fun to get all gussied up and primped for  special occasions, but a movie evening at home in my PJs with wine and nibbles, all cozied up under a quilt is no less special. The first thing most of us do when we arrive home is to get out of our public uniform and into what most pleases us. I adore the freedom of my yoga pants and fuzzy handmade socks and a t-shirt worn soft as a caress. I feel like I can do anything dressed this way: actual yoga, yard work, house chores, nap, walk the dog. I don’t wear them publicly because the collective public doesn’t want to see my curves and wobbly bits, even if my bliss is showing. But while it makes practical sense to be wearing something with pockets while out in the world, I find I genuinely care less and less about what others think. Clean and tidy is enough, especially if I feel good in it. Our mothers would never have dreamed of kicking off their shoes to dance at a formal occasion but nowadays most bridesmaids are handed flip-flops or slippers at the wedding reception so they can dance in greater comfort. With the pomp over, the circumstance becomes a party. Feeling good no longer has to come second to looking good, especially at our age. 

We’ve met or seen those delightful older ladies and men who wear what they damned well please solely because it pleases them and so they can forget about it and focus their attention on other things. I don’t advocate wearing a quilted bathrobe to do your banking, but if you have a wild paisley printed caftan  left over from the 60s, I wanna see you rockin’ it. Especially if there’s funky chunky jewelry accessorizing. Those clothes tell a story. I love stories.

We are our stories. Know it or not, you are writing a chapter right this minute. You are not who you were 5, 10, 25 years ago. The essence of your person is always with you, but how you operate in the world, react to it, be informed by it changes all the time. It’s how we learn and grow. It’s how I believe we come full circle; back to being the full unbridled selves we were as young children. Allow a child to dress themselves and they make up extraordinary combinations of stripes and checks and polkadots with furry hats and bright rubber boots. I think there is a definite connection to the don’t-give-a-damn elders who have been known to adorn themselves similarly, because they can.I am not quite there yet, but suspect I’m on my way. My own Grandmother would never have been seen in public without hose and heels and her “face on”. My Mum is more relaxed but still must have lipstick and feel like she’s “put-together”. I can pull it together as needed and come out looking sharp, but would so much rather be just freely comfortable. One day I want to be that old lady barefoot in the garden with her jeans rolled up and a battered straw hat, poking the peas into bloom. Let someone else with finer taste play the roles of Matron and Dowager. I’ll make a better leather-skinned coot with 30 year old Birkenstocks, bragging about fresh tomatoes. In any case, we have earned the right to choose who we will be.

There has been so much in the past 2 years that contributes to how we see ourselves. The #MeToo and #NoMore movements along with the refreshingly forthright analyses of people like Hannah Gadsby and Roxanne Gay and Jill Solway have reminded women that we can encourage one another to tell our stories for better and for worse because they are what make us. They assure us that we need no longer be apologetic for the traumas in our background, the weight of our bodies, the clothing that we wear and the places we take up space in the world. I love being able to tell my anecdotes in silly ways because life itself is largely absurd, but behind the recognition of absurdity is often pain. The kind of pain that shakes it’s metaphorical head in disbelief. How we can be such amazing, creative, intelligent and capable creatures yet all too often default to divide-and-conquer strategies in the mistaken belief we need to prove ourselves somehow “better-than” boggles me to the core. Ridicule for something as simple as how we dress to go out strikes me as such a colossal  waste of precious energy.  Having the “right” hair/shoes/car/house/history is such a crazy construct. That we have a body, we clothe and feed it and house it warmly and safely should be enough. That we are fragile in spots because of the nasty bits in our development should be respected. That we can tell our stories to one another in safety and without judgement needs to be encouraged. Tell me there is anything better than looking another person in the eyes and being able to say with sincerity: “I get it.”

We are our stories. We get whacked sideways, we do stupid things, we make mistakes, we endure tragedies, we take a deep breath to steel ourselves for the first step into the world each day. But we also laugh ourselves to tears, cry ourselves to relief, manage to see magic and beauty in every day minutiae, haul one another from the ashes and hold hands crossing the street. We figure out that letting go without forgetting is liberating. We learn that being loved is sometimes harder than loving. We slowly begin to appreciate the sheer number of times our faces had to crumple up in laughter and sorrow to leave those marks of experience and burgeoning wisdom upon our skin. Those marks of living are what we need to recognise as our stories, and recognise in one another. Look a person in the eye and what they are wearing won’t matter a damn. Be bold enough to do it with conscious love and you give someone licence to reveal themselves to you; fun, frustration, freckles and all. Wear the purple boa and the bright red running shoes. Learn to love your story, because it’s far from over and you have the luxury, the privilege, and the responsibility to keep writing.I promise, I’ll meet you in the garden and I’ll make the tea while you talk.

[thecloudlight-blog]

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CELEBRATE MOTHER'S DAY WITH THESE BEAUTY

Mother’s Day presents do not have to be “mother-ish” (ahem, gardening sets and appeal bracelets). Moms love looking good and getting pampered (take it from this one), and makeup and splendor objects could make a pleasing alternative to the conventional bouquet.

Considering that masses of splendor merchandise are as pretty as they promise to make a woman look and sense, the packaging may be present in itself. Here are a few Mother’s Day splendor ideas to do not forget for mom this 12 months.

The holistic beauty emblem created by using movie star facialist Tammy Fender

(fans of her products consist of Alicia Silverstone, Julianne Moore, and Alanis Morissette) is inspired with the aid of the recuperation and rejuvenating properties of rose and permit’s mom indulge while not having to leave the house.

Considering the superstar fans of this makeup line (Gisele Bundchen, Selena Gomez, and Sofia Coppola all had Marc Jacobs Beauty appears for the latest Met Gala), mom is positive to revel in the cool component that includes this product series, all housed in a collectible makeup bag stimulated by the Marc Jacobs spring 2017 runway.

Why We Celebrate Holidays

Most people celebrate vacations – Christmas, Halloween, Valentine’s Day – however why?

Of course, we celebrate some vacations due to our religious ideals. However, there are different motives why we keep to these joyous events. These vacations cut up the float of the 12 months and bind us together as families and communities.

We celebrate vacations due to the fact we want to have fun. We need a run from our ordinary schedules,

Jobs, and many others. Without vacations, our weeks could run collectively into years of humdrum mediocrity. What is October without youngsters ringing our doorbells soliciting for candy? What are November without turkey at the desk and own family around it? What is February without heart-formed bins adorning the kitchen counter? The answer: dull months, I say.

We also have good time holidays because they’re motives to reconnect with family and lengthy misplaced buddies. Although we are able to make an effort to peer circle of relatives and near pals each time, many people do now not. Many people make vacations the times they attain out to other humans. And no longer handiest is it essential to us to sense the warm temperature of family, we enjoy holidays due to the fact they create out an experience of a network. The brilliant pink hearts decorating branch stores in February, the blinking lights strung on lamp posts in December, those assist us to feel linked to something large than ourselves.

In a global, wherein get-togethers and barbecues do now not occur as an awful lot as they used to in decades beyond.

In an international in which nobody borrows sugar from his or her neighbor to any extent further or bakes a cake when a person actions onto the block, holidays tie us together.

I urge all of us to no longer throw vacations to the aspect of the street. Get out and enhance your property at Christmastime. Surprise your partner, boyfriend or female friend with Valentine’s Day present. And genuinely have fun at Halloween. Even if you do now not experience Halloween, I guarantee the kids to your community will appreciate you dressing up, setting a graveyard to your the front yard and passing out sweet.

Best Gifts For Mother’s Day

A mother is a person who is going thru the painstaking adventure of wearing her child in her womb for 9 months. So there’s rarely a person who wouldn’t want to position a grin back on his/her mom’s face. There are limitless picks we are able to make in terms of choosing a gift for Mother’s Day. From decorative mugs, stylish bracelets, elegant sarees to sublime dinner sets or a coveted bestseller, you can literally fall for some of the tantalizing gifts for Mother’s Day event.

The flicker of the smile that you get to see your mom’s face when she receives a gift is valuable. You may even delve into your mother’s hobby and find out what she desires the maximum or what is that astounding dream that she usually wanted to meet? The preference that your mom feels is satisfactory for her may be whatever and the entirety, it can be as easy as the sunshine or something as wacky as a tribal art set! All you want to do is pinpoint your finger at the sensational object and the arena is at your feet. Let’s test some of the objects trending as the favorite Mother’s day present-

1) Cake-

You can order a favorite chocolate cake, strawberry shortbread cookies or delicious blueberry truffles in your mom as her last mom’s day gift, from any of her favored bakeries. A decent surprise for her would be if you can bake a cake yourself and pinnacle it up with an extraordinary icing.

2) An Assorted Gift-

Buy a number of her favorite beauty or tub products and present to her as an assorted gift, wrapping it up in an attractive style. You may go for a sweet-scented deodorant with a dreamy fragrance or a high-quality moisturizer that she would like.

3) A Designer Outfit

A cool choice of garb is something a mother appreciates. It doesn’t need to burn your wallet, however, look for a layout which you think your mother will recognize. Discuss together with your father or husband approximately your mom’s fashion picks.

4) Chocolates

Chocolates are the maximum common mother’s day gift which melts in your mouth and melts your hearts too. If you cannot have enough money something fancy like a steeply-priced brand perfume, you can gift your mother her favorite candies and she won’t thoughts. Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, mint chocolate, orange chocolate, caramel chocolate, and nuts will make her experience eternal bliss.

5) Jewelry

We understand that a diamond is all the time and it’s a woman’s fine friend. But you don’t need a luxurious piece to make her satisfied. It may even be a fab plastic, terracotta, shell or metallic fancy jewelry to make your mom experience like a goddess. Besides, in case you’re lucky then nothing turns up the magic just like the glitter of gold, deliver the single in in your mom’s eyes. Whether you’ll pick out real jewelry or style jewelry, your mom could be extremely joyful to have quite things to wear.

American Beauty Semiotic Analysis

American Beauty, thru its use of symbols and the title of the film itself makes us observe the characters and their philosophies (American dream, their ideas of fulfillment, beauty, and many others.) each as they may be and as they may be perceived. No one within the film is truly as they appear. In the cease the creepiest (Ricky) is the nicest, the successful spouse is an unstable ruin, and the American splendor is as an alternative plan.

The pink rose pedals, which seem numerous times all through American Beauty area image for romance, sensuality, and energy. However it’s far vital to be aware that in the course of most of the movie the crimson roses are implicitly an phantasm. The red roses within the context of an illusion come to stand for a sugar covered fact.

By sugar coating I mean that which covers up the natural stimulation

(taste, sight, contact) via “sweetening” it. In all however one of the scenes, the purple puddles are around Angela overlaying her bare frame in a manner which makes whatever lays beneath, that rather more engaging, through the use of sensual reds and the sexiness of mystery. Not to mention extreme spectacles which frequently accompany Lester’s dream scenes.

However inside the scene wherein Lester eventually gets what he has been wishing for Angela has no red peddles around her. Unlike her breasts in the first scene which had been protected up with colourful petals, this scene exposes her body for what it’s far, we adore Lester begin to sense like Angela may not were all she was cracked up to be. It isn’t that Angela is not stunning, it’s miles that no person should live as much as the god like expectations that Lester’s wild fantasies created.

After Lester reveals out that Angela is a virgin and in no way

What the notion she was he is going out to the kitchen and picks up a picture of his own family. As Lester seems at a photograph of his own family pronouncing “man oh man…” a busy of purple roses(actual to those proven earlier) are shown for approximately five seconds. These roses in contrast to all shown previously are real, now not a dream. Also not like the roses showed earlier they may be related to his family and not Angela. In this context, the roses do now not represent sugar coating but actual love, sensuality, and energy. Seconds later we see a puddle of crimson blood. Shortly once we revel in, via video montage that’s Lester’s lifestyles flashing earlier than his eyes, the love, sensuality, and energy which the picture represented.