#also. harana. if u think about it

[hychlorions]

Dornröschen

[kairiscorner]

Ri. Ri. Ri the rizz master. Meron akong brainrot ulit 😭

beh, u should def watch maria clara at ibarra. Its so good like man 😩

but imagine… miguel/noir in a noli au. The clothes???? The plot??? The tagalog OMGGG, like imagine miguel using really old tagalog, as in, the days where ppl still used señor/señorita. Words like maharlika and the like. (Sana tama yung spelling ko hahahsj)

i could go on and on about imagining them in old filipino literature. I can’t. Im so far gone.

-leonara <3

NAKO ATE ARE YOU TRYNA KILL ME????????? man i found ibarra hot there though HE'S THE STANDARD YOU CAN'T BLAME MEEEEE

anyway, so imagine,

miguel o'hara in a noli au

ok so we were both colonized by the spanish right, so i think that YES, YOU BOTH WOULD'VE UNDERSTOOD EACH OTHER IN SPANISH KUNG MESTIZO/A KAYO; but if not, bc from what i remember, the indios weren't taught spanish, you'd kind of just..... listen to him, and if he says a word you understand in tagalog, you'd answer him in tagalog and JUST--

i think if you really didn't understand him bc of how malalim tagalog was back then, which was way more common than how my conyo ass speaks, you two probably wouldn't come to an understanding, you'd probably resort to using your body language to tell him LMAO

also am i the only one who thinks filipino/filipina beauty, doesn't matter if you're moreno/morena or pale or darker than that, really captivates miggy? like even if you didn't look like mestiza women at the time and were a pure-blooded filipino/filipina, HE WOULD BE ABSOLUTELY IN LOVE WITH HOW YOU LOOKED EVEN IF YOU DIDN'T GO ALL OUT FOR HIM (he knows you're perfect :>)

he would try to impress you with his spanish, but honestly, you couldn't care less bc YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HALF THE SHIT HE'S SAYING, so you just... nod... and... leave.......

when you're waiting out by your window, or nagpapahangin lang ykyk kasi mas malamig noon, he'd call out to you and say you look lovely tonight in the MOST FANCY OLD TAGALOG WAY (fuck di ko alam kung paano, BUT LEMME TRY SOMETHING HUHU)

"aba'y binibini/ginoo... ikaw ay punong-puno ng kagandahan ngayong gabi; ang mga tala sa langit ay daig pa sa iyong ning-ning."

then he fuckin winks and you're dead

if you knew him ever since you were younger, he would write those letters ibarra sends maria clara, AND HE'D GAZE OVER AT YOU SO LOVINGLY AS YOU READ THEM OUT LOUD, AND WHEN HE CATCHES YOU BLUSHING HE'D SAY IT, HE'D CALL YOU OUT

"aking binibini, ika'y... namumula. kay ganda ng pula sa iyong mukha, ika'y tilang isang rosas na namumukadkad."

(((oh the urge to kiss him right then and there fuckkk)))

he would harana you. that is FINAL. he would sing in spanish because that's how he expresses himself best, and because he's more familiar with them. but i think he'd compose his own songs in spanish AND TAGALOG FOR U

IF YOU FR DON'T GET THE HINT HE LIKES YOU, HE WILL STRAIGHT UP ASK YOU ONE DAY IF YOU'D WANT TO RUN AWAY WITH HIM AND LET HIM TAKE CARE OF YOU

HE WANTS A FUCKING FUTURE WITH YOU AWAY FROM THE COLONIZERS AND BULLSHIT THAT'S HAPPENING IN THE NOLI AND WANTS TO SEE YOU SAFE AND SOUND. HE WILL KICK THE SHIT OUT OF THE GUARDIA CIVIL IF THEY FUCKING HURT YOU !!!!!!

"aking sinta, ipinapangako ko. hindi kita pakakawalan, hindi kita iiwanan sa impyernong ito, sapagkat ikaw ang natatanging liwanang sa aking buhay, ang tanging minamahal at mamahalin ko hanggang ako'y yumao't mawala sa mundo. nais kong maramdaman at maranasan mo na ikaw lang ang mundo ko. tu eres mi unico mundo." (shit sana tama AAAAAAA)

a/n: BIG THANK YOU TO ATE @binibinileonara FOR THE REQ AND INSPO, LOVE YOU PO ATEEE /platonically <333

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @luvstarrstruck @binibinileonara

[mune-writes]

Not too sure if you’re still taking requests but can we get more love for an Eddie x Filipina! Reader. It’s super nice having some representation (especially with your OC series)!!!

a/n: I acc am still taking reqs !! most of them are in my drafts tho bc I haven’t finished them hehe whoops

Eddie Munson w a Filipina!gf headcanons

ok first of all he would be so interested to learn about you and your culture, he just wants to know everything abt you really and since your culture is a big part of your identity he wants to learn more

i personally hc that eddie is like not a picky eater at all this man will eat anything,,, that being said he ADORES sinigang and (surprisingly) dinuguan

even when u tell him it’s basically a dish made of uhhh chicken/pork blood,,, he just blinks while he processes that info and then shrugs

“idc what it’s made of, if it tastes good it tastes good—also how fucking metal is that????”

when u guys start dating u explain to him the courtship process back in the Philippines

his eyebrows raise when he learns about harana (basically serenading someone)

literally shows up at your window under the dark of night w his guitar and sings and plays for u

learns all your favorite OPM songs on the guitar too :”D

ok we all know that eddie has this whole ‘tough metalhead dude’ look in spite of him being a total nerd so ur parents are a little apprehensive

but then when they hear him play for you outside your window and see how absolutely lovesick you are for him they just let it slide

also as they get to know him more and see how devoted he is to you they’d be like ok thumbs up bery gud

your mom will probably adore him bc he constantly asks for seconds whenever you guys have dinner at your place and it warms her heart that he appreciates her cooking so much

TEACHING EDDIE HOW TO SWEAR IN FILIPINO

“okay so one of the more popular swear words is ‘putangina mo’.”

“what does that mean?”

“it literally translates to ‘your mother is whore’ but—“

“holy shit???? that’s so mean tho I don’t wanna say that abt anyone’s mom :((“

“baby it’s ok sometimes it’s taken out of that context and usually just means fuck you.”

“yeah but still >:/“

when u teach him how to say yawa,,, or like hayop ka he uses that every time someone messes w him and they just stare at him like,,, what did u just say while ur cheering for him on the sidelines like “U TELL EM BABE”

always there to help u translate words when u forget the English translation, but like not in the he’s like an English Filipino dictionary tbh it’s more like charades.

“eds can you pass me the um… wait what’s that called again??”

“ooo act it out act it out!”

after a few minutes of charades and random hand gestures a lightbulb goes off in his head “OH U MEAN THIS—“

while he learns a lot of words from u he asks ur mom about words of endearment and then surprises u one day while giving you a hug like “hello mahal, did you eat yet?”

calls you super cute nicknames like “mahal”, “sinta”, “palangga”,

sometimes he calls you by food names which sounds weird but is actually kinda sweet such as “my little siopao” or “my sweet ensaymada”

one time he called u his cute little adobo flake and you swore you’d pass out from laughter right then and there

slowly picks up on your mannerisms, like whenever he needs to point something out he purses his lips to point at it instead of his finger

LOVES LOVES LOVES when you tell him abt Filipino creatures !!!

absolutely obsessed with the idea of the manananggal (a creature who takes the form of a woman by day then by night she separates from her torso and sprouts bat wings to feast on people) because he thinks it’s honestly so cool how there are so many different fantastical creatures around the world.

“so say I wanted to kill one, how would I do that?” “you sprinkle chili, salt, vinegar, and garlic into its lower half”

he paused for a minute.

“isn’t that basically the blend of vinegar you have in your kitchen?”

SLOW DANCES WITH YOU TO PANALANGIN BY APO HIKING SOCIETY

he honestly just loves you so much with all his heart and being, and admires how passionately you talk about your culture and history. sometimes he goes out of his way to make things/buy you things that remind you of home.

[mintseesaw]

harana | jjk

translation: n. the act of wooing/courting someone by serenading him/her

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, f2l au, drabble

word count: 3.5k

warning: none // rating: pg-13

requested by bebe athena @rookiegukie​. Im sorry it took a while, but i hope you like it hun! You may still submit your requests for the drabble game Paraluman Playlist until the end of August. ✨

note: this didnt turn out as initially planned changing after jk released his latest cover so i highly rec u to listen to 10,000 hours by jjk (cover) while reading it hjfjgdjdkgm  also it’s a first for me to delve into f2l trope ljggdhd yall forgive me if it’s too cliche bwahaha

“Hyung! ______-noona is here!” A kid who opened the door for you announced your arrival rather loudly, recognizing him as one of Jungkook’s cousins. You pushed through inside the nostalgic interior of the Jeon’s household. Nothing much has changed in the past two years.

Soon after, Jungkook appeared from the doorway you remember as the door leading to the kitchen. He’s decently dressed and when you say decent, you meant he’s not in his usual attire of anything black and over-sized. Nonetheless, he’s handsome as ever. You’re not gonna deny the fact.

“Hey!” He greets, face lighting up at the sight of you, biting back a smirk as he skims the length of you adorning a cute, yellow dress. He glances down at your hand holding a gift-wrapped present for his mom before draping an arm over your shoulders.

He feigns a frown, “You shouldn’t have bothered. Mom will appreciate you making it on her birthday.”

“Well, unlike someone I know, I’m thoughtful enough to prepare something for Auntie.” You tease, knowing he possibly bought nothing for his mom.

He scoffs, only proving your assumption right. “Yah! Don’t sound too enthusiastic, I’m the son here.”

“So what? I’m your mom’s favorite!” You retorted back.

“No you aren’t!” He snapped, while his mouth unconsciously juts forward in defeat.

Your eyebrow arches. “Is that a challenge I hear?”

Jungkook nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. “Forget the competition. We’re here to make my mom happy.” He quickly dismisses, distracting you as he leads you straight to the garden area which you could already see where the guests are gathered through the glass doors.

As expected, the said small party looks simply classic with a touch of Mrs. Jeon’s sophisticated taste. Average-sized square wooden tables are neatly scattered in the expanse of the garden with uniform vintage table setting that coordinates well with the floral decorations in the vicinity. In front, a makeshift platform was made behind a decorated linen with pinned letters “Happy Birthday Mom!” Behind all the tables is where the buffet table was placed.

You’re actually relieved that your simple puff sleeve dress matches with the theme of the party, forgetting the guilt of having to wear the dress without borrowing it from your sister.

Mrs. Jeon was happily chatting with her guests but when the sliding door breaks open revealing you tucked under Jungkook’s arm, the present smile on her face stretches wide and immediately shuffled towards you and Jungkook’s way. 

Mrs. Jeon audibly gushes just as you handed your gift and welcomed you with a warm, tight hug. “Thank you, dear.”

Jungkook took it as his cue to leave you two for a second.

When she draws back, she appreciatively give you a once over. “Oh, you look so lovely on your dress!” Mrs. Jeon clapped her hands. You smiled shyly in return.

“Thank you for coming, dear. It’s been ages since the last time I’ve seen you. Come here and get some food.” She says.

It’s true. After you’ve been in college two years ago, you’ve hardly stayed in your hometown for more than two weeks, hence, you couldn’t squeeze your time here to pay the Jeons a visit. Mrs. Jeon became your guardian whenever your parents were in business trips back in the days, and during the times of your stay at their house, you’ve grown much closer to her just like your second mom.

By the time you reach the buffet table, Mrs. Jeon caught Jungkook in the act of getting a piece of sushi straight from the chafing dish, and his poor soon right away earned a whack on his arm from his mom.

“Use the tongs!” She reproaches which made him flinches dramatically.

Such a baby.

You bit back a chuckle as Mrs. Jeon went on with “Go to the kitchen and refill the dispenser!” Jungkook pouts but obeys his mom without complaining. However, he made sure to shoot a fake glare at you before he disappears from the doorway.

Mrs. Jeon then handed you an empty plate. “Here, ______. I know you like pasta.”

Your eyes widened a little. Perhaps, you have not recovered from the surprise painted on your expression, hearing it come from her that she caught a glimpse of your slight shock state. Why should you be surprised when Jungkook knows it as well? He might have told her or something.

“Oh don’t be surprised, dear. My boy always asks me to cook pasta whenever you come around.”

Isn’t it his favorite food? “It’s… his favorite... right?” You began but ended up questioning the validity of your knowledge.

She laughs, “You know he could eat anything edible but cannot live without his portion of meat every day.”

“Oh.” It was only that moment it registered to you. His mom is right. He’d always make it a point to consume all your stocks of meat whenever he shows up in your dorm in the most unexpected days. His university is not too far away from yours. Yet, this guy thinks it’s worth the two-hour drive just to get to your dorm and pester the shit out of you.

“I’m so happy you’re able to make it on my birthday. Will you stay in town for the rest of your break?”

“Uhh… I was supposed to focus on saving up through my part time jobs this summer but my mom threatened to disown me if I don’t stay here during summer break.”

“Oh she’s being reasonable, honey. Believe me, I’d do the same thing if Jungkook refuses to go home at least once a month, unless of course, if he runs off with you.” She remarks in a teasing manner, earning a profuse blush to appear on your cheeks so abruptly.

Since you left home for uni, you actually believe Mrs. Jeon had forgotten about your shared interactions back then. Yet, here she is, still having faith that his son has actual feelings for you. She told you many times that she’d want a daughter like you or, at least, be her in-law. She always regarded it in a playful tone so you used to get mixed signals whether she was really serious or not. But then, you’d say the overused line: “we’re only friends”. She would then give you a knowing look and insisted that she knows her son well. Fortunately for you, she made it a point to only tease you whenever Jungkook was out of earshot.

By the time Jungkook came back a few moments later, you’re already seated in a vacant table at the farthest back. Jungkook occupied the seat next to yours, taking notice of the half-finished food on your plate.

“What time are you leaving?” He asks the moment he plopped down the chair. Your head cocked to the side to meet his gaze.

“Are you trying to make me leave early?” You prompted suspiciously.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna drive you home, idiot.”

“Well, you don’t have to. I can… walk.”

“It’s not like I have a choice.” He mutters under his breath.

Your eyebrows quirked but you spoke no more. He lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. Did he mean his mom will force him to drop you off at your house just like the old times?

As the night progresses, the small celebration has pumped up with lively cheers from their relatives, incited by the impromptu program prepared by Jungkook’s cousins which was mostly filled with fun games. At some point of the said program, a small commotion on the side of the makeshift platform started to build up. The next thing you know, his cousin, the mastermind behind the entertainment portion of the party, caught yours and Jungkook’s attention when she announced his sudden participation in the program through a performance.

“Our boy Kookie here recently recorded a cover and he’s here to perform the live version and showcase his talent to our dear guests. Everyone, let’s welcome our very own Jeon Jungkook onto the stage!” His cousin enthusiastically says through the microphone. On cue, everyone in the garden, particularly his cousins, roared in earsplitting screams of cheer.

He blinks, completely perplexed. He was not given a heads up prior, much less told that he would perform a song in front of an audience. Hesitant due to his nerves, he backed away subtly just as he reaches the side of the supposed stage. However, his cousin caught up with his attempt and pushed him not too gently toward the platform, and even placed the microphone stand in front of him, giving him no room to say no. The expectant look of his relatives left him no choice but to just— his eyes suddenly caught your figure at the back when you stood up and went to the buffet table.

His heart thuds so hard against his rib cage that he’s afraid everyone can hear it through the mic, including you. He’s sure he’s as white as a paper by now more so that his nerves are getting the worst of him.

That song is not just any song he simply did a cover of. It was the song he meant to sing for you when the right time has come, when he’s ready to pour his heart out to you.

He sucked a deep breath once more, and slowly breathed out once more. Instinctively, his eyes fluttered closed when he heard the music began playing.

Ready or not, it’s now or never.

 Do you love the rain? Does it make you dance

When you're drunk with your friends at a party?

At the sound of his voice filling the air of the summer night, you spun back around to face him. That’s how he missed the look on your face just as how you missed the chaotic cheering of his cousins as they piled up to the side of the platform.

What's your favorite song? Does it make you smile?

Do you think of me?

Hearing the beautiful lyrics wholeheartedly sang by Jungkook, the same one who stole your heart a long time ago, you couldn’t control your heart as it started racing so wildly, tiny specs of heat slowly spreading in your chest. Thoughts began to swirl in your mind – giving you the anticipation. The possibility. The potential love affair. That the friendship would develop into something more.

Before the next verse comes, Jungkook peeled his eyes open, however, he didn’t expect to see you awestruck there across his line of vision from the back, and meeting your expressive eyes. If he didn’t know better, he would have mistaken the glint in your eyes for something else.

Maybe just… maybe you like him too.

When you close your eyes

Tell me what are you dreaming?

Everything, I wanna know it all

You look so beautiful. That the thought of you alone could easily make his heartstrings twist so cruelly in his chest. Oh how he wishes you’d let him spoil you the way he’s been dying to. He’d be the luckiest man to ever live to have you as his girlfriend.

Jungkook didn’t know how he managed to put up the courage to return your gaze, never have you looked at him the way your pretty eyes are staring back at him now with the genuine fondness in them. Somehow, as he gets lost to his emotions, he suddenly couldn’t find the strength in him to take his eyes off of you.

I'd spend 10,000 hours and 10,000 more

Oh, if that's what it takes to learn that sweet heart of yours

Butterflies erupt crazily in your stomach, goosebumps start to appear on your skin and your cheeks heat up as he held you captive under his wistful stare. The longingness and the passion they hold, the twinkle of his orbs as his doe-like eyes are digging straight to your soul, what it is all for?

And I might never get there but I'm gonna try

If it's 10,000 hours or the rest of my life

I'm gonna love you

He’s always been a constant figure in your life since the moment you two became friends. He didn’t miss any important celebrations that involves you since then. And even though Jungkook has been vocal about being overprotective of you dating guys he didn’t know, none of you ever tried to address anything remotely related to romantic love. It gave you the temporary relief, because you’ve been pushing your feelings back in the depths of your heart since the moment you realized you’ve fallen in love with him.

You never had the guts to test the theory, but leaving wondering what if… When have you visited the thought, again? You have long disregarded the possibility because you believed he loves you like his sister. Nevertheless, you’re lucky to have met him and be the only constant in your life.

Do you miss the road that you grew up on?

Did you get your middle name from your grandma?

When you think about your forever now

Do you think of me?

Jungkook’s face stretches in a subtle smile, forgetting about his nerves, his sweaty palms and the guests who kept looking back and forth between him and you in curiosity while he seems magnetized at his view. You.

When you close your eyes

Tell me what are you dreaming?

Everything, I wanna know it all

You smiled, recalling the times you two were inseparable. The times he let you cry on his shoulder, when he used to help you sneak out in the middle of the night, be your chaperone, witnessed you getting drunk for the first time in your life and even that one time a senior stole your first kiss. It was the first time you saw Jungkook that angry, beating the shit out of a poor guy two years ahead of us over a single peck. Your memories with him didnt end in high school for he didn’t stop making efforts to see you, regularly visiting you frequent enough that he’d made himself home at your place.

Ooh, want the good and the bad

Everything in between

Ooh, gotta cure my curiosity

In the midst of serenading you, he recollects the memories he shared with you. The day you two were introduced to each other was still as good as new in his memory bank, or the times that you encouraged him to push through to audition to his dream role that you even learned to play his audition piece just so he could practice with you every day after school. His basketball games with you as his personal cheerleader, the times that he couldn’t hide his jealousy when you dated someone else, the immature fights that always led him to drink his heart out as if you two had broken up, and you nursing him back to sobriety. When you two were separated in college, he’d always make a way to bother you whenever he’s drunk and you’d end up going to his place and ceaselessly irk him while he rotted from hangover.

His angelic voice singing the rest of the song lulls you further into your thoughts, gathering each memory like a missing piece in the puzzle. Why didn’t you see all the signs back then? Were you blinded by your then-infatuation over him that you failed to hint his own feelings? He never gave you a reason to make you think he likes you more than a friend nor tried to hide anything from you, right?

Shortly afterwards, you were pulled back into the reality when you hear the cheers of the guests, signaling the end of Jungkook’s performance. Your eyes silently follow him as he sheepishly walk out of the platform, going onto the same path he took before.

Jungkook didn’t meet your gaze as he strutted toward the ice cooler on the side of the buffet table to get a bottle of alcohol which is just a few steps away from you. Twisting open its cap with such urgency, he took a long swig from the bottle to calm his traitor nerves, then pretends to busy himself on the variety of food laid on the table while feeling the weight of your stare on his back. Nervous that you understood the purpose behind his impromptu performance and that your silence was your hint of your rejection to his feelings, he didn’t try to talk it out to you the entire night. Yet, he feigned indifference when he sat on the same chair in the table next to you.

As the rest of the night rolls, the tension undeniably grows in between you two. Yet bearable enough to have you two stay glued on your seats despite the countless times you caught him staring at you, or you at him all throughout the night.

None of you dared break the silence and somehow, along the way, the tension has particularly become unbearable inside the car while he drove you home. Your house was just two blocks away and you bet it would take him faster to get there should he not intentionally slow down his driving with only a hand on a steering wheel while the other rested on the open window of his door as his fingers anxiously pinch his lips.

You chose to break the tension, feeling the need to speak up before your heart bursts out of your chest. And the moment you did, Jungkook coincidentally started to talk too.

“So…”

“About that…”

You met his eyes when your head jerked to the side to peer at him.

“What?” You immediately ask, curious to know what he would want to say after that, his heartfelt singing.

“Uh—“ He drawls, suddenly losing the words he was supposed to utter the second he made an eye contact with you. He shifts his eyes back to the road, feeling himself cower under the weight of your stare.

He clears his throat, putting up a pretense of a courage. “What do you think of... my performance?”

There was a moment of dead air inside before you manage to form an answer. “It was beautiful… I like it. You know I’m in love with y-you– I mean your voice. I love your voice.” You laugh awkwardly, while you’re incoherently screaming in your head at your almost slipped up.

Jungkook’s face flushes and he could already visualize the sudden boost of serotonin in his system hearing the validation he needs the most, the one coming from you. “Thank you.” He mumbles shyly.

It was that moment when the car arrives in front of your house. You shoot him a look, said your thanks and bid him goodbye before you climbed out of the car. You couldn’t deny the disappointment that was rushing so abruptly into you while you pad the distance across the gate of the house. For the nth time, you have hoped for something that was not even real to begin with.

However, your heart jumped out of almost joy when you heard Jungkook’s voice call your name out just as you’re about to close the fence gate.

“What’s up?”

“Okay before I tell you something, do you promise to remain best friends with me if… if you don’t… if somehow… oh god whatever— just promise me!” He panics, making you frown in return.

“I-I promise?” You say in an uncertain tone.

Jungkook held his pinky out.

“Pinky swear?” He prompts. You raise an eyebrow but let him hook your pinky finger with his to seal the promise of a lifetime friendship. 

“What is it?” You say in the most gentle way possible. If this is the moment you’ve been dreaming to happen since you were in high school, you have to encourage him to talk before you could stop yourself from advancing to his personal space just to kiss him without any further ado.

“_____I-I tried my best not to… n-not to see you in a different way. But god you’re always making it difficult for me to forget about it when you keep giving me reasons to want things I shouldn’t have–”

“Jungkook–”

“Please, let me finish before my legs give out.”

You chuckle all the while your vision blurs from the moisture in your eyes. The anxiety on his face gradually dissolves into relief when he saw the smile creeping into your face.

“I can’t keep dating anyone and pretending they’re better than you. I’m an idiot, I know.  But it’s always been you, ______. It’s you that I want and I can’t possibly live this life without you–“ You didn’t let him finish when he finally said the words you have longed to hear for years. You lean in to touch his soft, inviting lips with your own.

Jungkook staggered back at the suddenness of your move. Once he had recovered from shock, he cupped your jaw to deepen the kiss. He sighed against your supple lips. And for the first time since he has nurtured his feelings for you, the weight in his chest has been lifted off, replacing it with warmth and relief that only you could bring in his longing heart.

*unedited

 mintseesaw © 2020 | photo credit

[kitjiang]

* ↪ jackson wang. he/him. cismale. ╱ i thought i saw kit jiang getting questioned by the police. the twenty-two year old is in their fourth year at west bridge studying physiology. they were at manon’s party because they were the DD for their roommate. do you think they had something to do with her death? + football uniform smeared with grass stains, the jangle of coins and cash in his pockets from tips, a thrift store leather jacket worn at the elbows.

boop! harana again with a second muse don’t judge me ;; kit’s also pretty new so pls be patient while i iron out his kinks. and if you want me to slide into your dms pls like this post ! i’ve got some plots at the bottom too--so if any work lmk.

hails from the sunnier side of long beach, california. used to be middle class, but his dad passed away when he was nine and things got pretty rough. his family never recovered and they were barely above the poverty line so kit always held a part-time job starting middle school to help his mom.

he’s got a younger brother and sister. kris is seventeen and kate is fifteen (yes his parents liked the letter k). with his mom out to work all the time while they were growing up, kit’s learned to be really handy with kids. doesn’t blink when there’s a diaper that needs to be changed, and has a high tolerance level for gross things.

 he’s been playing football since he was a kid. they called him lightning legs in high school because he was the fastest wide receiver they had. the only reason he’s able to afford university is because of a football scholarship.

he’s known as a pretty nice and approachable guy on campus, even if he has a tendency to scold people when he thinks it’s warranted. can be a bit of a fussy dad friend. texts his friends ‘did u eat yet’ or ‘get off snapchat and go to bed there’s a test tomorrow.’

he’s pansexual. doesn’t have a preference for gender, just likes the person. he doesn’t really sleep around and is very loyal and attentive when he’s dating someone.

currently works part-time at a high class restaurant as a waiter. looks good in uniform. sends most of the money home to his family.

doesn’t do drugs. is hesitant about alcohol because his mother was a borderline alcoholic growing up and he’s worried he’ll get hooked too. so he’ll willing to DD and babysit but is known to drink lightly on occasion. 

this is what got him in trouble the night manon died. he came along to the party as DD for his roommate but he and dom got into a fight (over something stupid probably) and kit was so pissed he ended up drinking out of spite so dom wouldn’t have a ride home. couldn’t handle his alcohol and he and dom hooked up. he regrets it.

he just moved out of the apartment he shared with dom and is looking for a new place.

isn’t dealing too well after manon’s death, especially with what he did the night of it. those liquor bottles are looking pretty good right now.

pinterest is [ here ]

+ WCs +

please give him somewhere to live. he needs a new roommate.

fellow sports/varsity students he can be friends with or relate to since there’s all this weight to succeed on them

people he can big bro or dad friend.

maybe an ex? singular. i don’t think he’s dated much since he takes awhile to fall in love with people (he’s cautious) and once he does date he’s solid and loyal enough to keep the relationship going for awhile.

enemies. kit is pretty straightforward, and if you’re not a nice guy he’ll tell you so. probably a lot of tension in the room.

a marauders type crew. just a bunch of students roaming together at night. dibs on moony.

[ruleandruinrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, HARANA!

You have been accepted for the role of DRUVIK JADEJA with a faceclaim change to Toni Mahfud. Admin Rosey: My sweet, beloved, incredibly flawed Druvik. I am absolutely thrilled to be entrusting him into your hands -- how could I not, after reading this beautiful application? From your promises to bring him to his knees, to your para sample that captured moments of his life more accurately than I could have imagined. Those moments, for me, were one of my favorite things about him. His moments with his family, under the blessing of the stars. Those, and the little headcanons that gave me a peek into what more there was to Druvik, are what sealed the deal. Thank you so much for beautiful application and welcome to Rule&Ruin! You have 24 HOURS to send in your account. Also, remember to look at the CHECKLIST. Welcome to Ravka!

OUT OF CHARACTER

ALIAS: Harana / K

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: she/her

AGE: 22

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: CST ! And I’m on summer break so i can get on pretty much every other day. Sometimes daily if the muse is strong enough. Weekends have a habit of being iffy for me (especially when the husband is home from deployment). But tbh I’ve never had issue with keeping up activity. If something RL comes up I always keep open communication with admins if I need to take a hiatus.

TRIGGERS: OMITTED

CURRENT/PAST ACCOUNTS:

http://orionmassetti.tumblr.com/ (active)

http://havenromulus.tumblr.com/ (defunct)

https://militansdeo.tumblr.com/ (active)

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER: Druvik Jadeja

D R U V I K : Musical, friendly, dynamic–named after his grandfather. And it was ill-suited for the man. Druvik’s grandfather was prone to drawn out bouts of silence, often sitting apart from the family with a pipe hanging crooked from the corner of his mouth, letting the smoke spill in lazy waves from cracked and parted lips. He preferred to leave Druvik’s grandmother to fill in the spaces of conversation.

But unlike his grandfather, the name suited Druvik. As a baby he’d toddle to the knees of strangers, charming patrons with his deep-set dimples and a wide toothless smile. And as he grew older, the meaning of his name dazzled in the crowds he captivated (dynamic), in the friends he caught, tangled, kept close (friendly). Even his most simple and innocuous movements seemed to follow the beat of some quiet song only he could hear (musical).

J A D E J A : The stories of the Jadeja clan extended as far back to the first stones set in Os Alta. The earliest have them in Caryeva, where the tales claim a golden goat blessed their family with their first herd, five animals for five sons and their families. From there, the stories traveled to Keramzin where the stars taught them to dance. In Os Kervo, the moon shared it’s music, the solid, slow slap of their feet keeping time in the dirt to the sweep of their arms and the swaying of their hips. Then Novo-Kribirsk, where the ocean waves gifted them with sea glass to sell and shells to weave in fabric and fine jewelry. The stories of their family flowed from Vlensk, Tsibeya, Os Alta, Poliznaya, then back to Caryeva again. While some of the nomadic families eventually settled in cities and small towns, the Jadejas made the entirety of Ravka their home, and would have continued to follow the path the stories of their forebears had set for them if it wasn’t for the Fold.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?

Okay. I have a type. I enjoy them spoiled, over dramatic, clever, prone to exaggerated displays and using five words when one would have been enough. Granted, Druvik doesn’t fit all of those traits. But really–when I read his bio, I immediately added it to my bookmarks and said, “Yes. This one. Good.” Because I usually know after a first read if a character will fit my writing style. And Druvik will only bring me joy and pleasure to write.

And it helps that he has flaws I relate to. His impossible attempts to please and win everyone over. His difficulty saying no and his attempts to do the right thing, despite it not being exactly what is needed or even wanted in the moment. Druvik’s pursuit of personal pleasure has made him ignorant to the repercussions of his selfishness. And this leaves me with so much to work with.

WHAT FUTURE PLOT IDEAS DID YOU HAVE IN MIND?

I.  DRUG TW: The drug was called Magha. It came in small, clear and corked bottles, the liquid inside it a deep shade of violet, nearly blue while held up to the light. When shaken–glittering particles bubbled up from the bottom and swirled silver through the drink. Magha had a sweet flavor hitting the tongue. Not too cloying, more fluid than syrup but thicker than water. And once it settled in the stomach and seeped into the nervous system, saturating veins and weaving in with blood–oh, the impossible dreams it dragged out.

It was a clever little concoction. It’s makeup was based on a traditional Suli herbal remedy. But Druvik corrupted it’s natural makeup with the small science. It was disrespectful–tainting a medicine meant for healing, all to make a pretty coin. He was spitting on the history of his people. But Druvik didn’t see it that way. He’d convinced himself he was doing the people of Ketterdam a service. Magha dragged out pure joy from the most bitter of hearts. Any outside touch was pleasure. Any flavor to the tongue bursting and ripe. And for this small favor, wasn’t it his due that his pockets were made heavy with coin? The fingers that worked to bring them pleasure, surely they could be forgiven for bearing their weight in silver rings and milky and iridescent opals? And so Druvik lounged guiltless on his small fortune, a lazy and rapacious dragon. And his admirers slammed their fists on his doors, begging for more, always more, just one last taste of Magha.

And he abandoned them.

I want this sin to follow him to Os Alta. I want him to be forced to face the repercussions of his naive selfishness (he never intends to hurt). Druvik has strolled through life without a care of those caught in the wake of his self-centered world view, and I want it shaken by his past. He can only willfully blind himself for so long. There is a price for vanity, and perhaps it’s time for Druvik to pay it.

II.  All Druvik wants is comfort. After half his life spent suffering as a nomad, ill-suited for the sparsity of Suli life, he finally found it in Ketterdam. But he’s been forced to abandon it, slipping back to Ravka at the threat of discovery–both for being Grisha, and for manufacturing a drug so potent and addicting that once taken? Reality forever paled without it. And just the name of his new home–Little Palace–charmed him. Surely he would live like a prince? Instead, Druvik found himself slaving and sweating over poisons, his nails blackened by gunpowder and forced to serve in the Second Army as if he were something expendable and his face was meant to be scarred. It was too much like his past–the traveling, the grit, even if the Grisha were afforded a shabbier glamour.

So Druvik is terribly unmotivated. Careless and haphazard with his work. However if properly pushed, he is capable of creating weapons of extreme potency. Poisons that steal away the senses, and gunpowder that seeps into human skin, turning them into living bombs. But those moments are scarce. And he cannot always have someone at his side to push him to do his work.

So this can lead to dangerous consequences. Either his weapons backfiring and causing danger to those he works with, or his poisons proving unreliable, abandoning his fellow Grisha to precarious situations. He is a soldier now, and I want his eyes opened to the part he really plays as an Alkemi of the Second Army.

III. There is conflict between the First and Second armies. A rift between Grisha and those that see them as aberrations. But Druvik can’t be bothered. He thinks the rivalry is petty. He considers it something easily risen above, not even bothering to dissect the deeply rooted and historical reasons behind the division.

Druvik simply believes he is being the better man. That by befriending and loving both humans and Grisha indiscriminately, he is an example to be followed. But ultimately, he is Grisha. His usage of the small science will not endear him to everyone. I want him to trust someone who isn’t Grisha. To adore them, only to be used and discarded. For a man who abandons indiscriminately, I would like him to taste how bitter it is to be left behind, tossed aside, and seemingly forgotten by someone he considered a friend.

WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO HAVE YOUR CHARACTER DIE?: If it furthers the plot, of course! Murder away.

IN DEPTH

IN CHARACTER PARA SAMPLE(S):

The day Druvik turned six there was a full moon.

Auspicious, his grandmother claimed. And the weather was mild, the winds cool but the sun hot, caught between spring and summer. Their caravan stopped for the day to celebrate, finding a small spring by a crag of rocks, shielding them from the wind. Auspicious, his grandmother repeated, and she pinched his cheeks.

Druvik’s mother took a handful of sugar and sprinkled it into a wooden bowl, the confection glittering like silver in the light (just as rare, just as precious) as she kneaded it into the flour and butter with hands that were calloused, cracked, worn. A Suli’s hands, ravaged by summer winds, the open sun, the constant tearing down of caravans and the chafe from the leather reins of mules. Druvik knew the sweet cakes would take all day to bake. And he hovered, breaking off little pieces with his fingers when his mother’s back was turned, crumbs catching on the corners of his mouth, the sweet bread melting on his tongue. He tasted nuts and dried berries, sugar and sticky honey.

For dinner his father cut generous slices of dried beef, frying them over the campfire. They sizzled and spit, sliding in their own fat like snakes. There was enough for their bellies to feel full. A change from the usual meager portions their family rationed out of necessity while traveling to the next populated place to perform.

They feasted. They sang. They danced. Not the gaudy and garish movements they performed for customers with the intent of earning coin. But dances passed down the line of Jadejas, each slow glide of arms, every shift of feet in the grass telling a story. Of life, of death, of love, of loss–and they moved in unison under the full moon and bright scatter of stars.

Later, when Druvik’s face was flushed from sipping his grandfather’s wine, he laid back on the grass with his head on his grandmother’s soft belly as she pointed to the stars. “That one. There, to the left. My gift to you, little Vik.” Bony fingers tracing back six stars, one for each of his years, the beginnings of the constellation the Suli called Magha–the bountiful one.

Druvik drifted off to sleep. He was half-awake when his father gathered him up to lay him next to his sister on the blankets. On his birthday, he felt important. Loved. Worshiped.

In the morning, the dream would melt in the beating hot sun and the unforgiving Ravkan plains.

—

Druvik was eleven when he first felt the stirrings of that desperate want, that growing appetite for more than the meager portions Suli life served him.

They’d crossed paths with a sizable merchant convoy, the cream colored tents somber and severe next to the mottled red, blue, green, and purple fabric his family tied down over their caravans to hold the attention of patrons. His grandmother knotted glass bells to their ankles. When they moved, there was music.

His mother told fortunes, face hidden by a worn jackal mask, practiced voice low and haunting as she sifted through the coffee dregs at the bottom of elephant shaped china. Her fingers held the teacups up by their trunks. Love, long life, wealth, prosperity–what their patrons paid with their copper coins to hear. And the merchants–Druvik tried not to stare as they stuffed their mouths full of fresh meat,  and filled their cups to the brim with wine. He turned his face when they carelessly spilled water while washing their hands, and observed with longing as they gorged themselves on cakes with white icing and biscuits topped with a generous scatter of brown sugar. More in one evening than his family divided among themselves in a week.

After dinner his sister danced, colored veils whipping like iridescent butterfly wings, her limbs gliding through the air like water. His father’s scimitars rolled off his muscled arms, spiraled through the air, landing on the tips of spread fingers.

Druvik’s performance was both danger and dance. And he picked up two small lamps by their chains, stepping up to a sizable group of merchants. A bow, then he whirled the fire through the air with the grace of falling stars, quick and bright and a bit too savage to be called beautiful. The flames smeared light in shapes of animals, flowers, harsh in the early evening shadows. Faster, faster, faster–until a thin sheen of sweat gathered on his neck, his chest, and he glowed like a young god in the slashes of light, the lamps spinning over his head, under his legs as he leaped over the merchants, their heads craning to follow as he landed lightly on his feet.

Druvik bowed low to the applause, little chest heaving as he snatched at breath. By the strength of their voice and the clapping of their hands, he knew he would earn well.

Later, as his family collected their coins, a man approached Druvik, kneeling in front of him with both fists extended.

“Pick one.”

Druvik tapped the man’s left hand, and it opened to reveal a silver dragonfly, its eyes green stones and its wings studded with blood red crystals. The man fastened it to Druvik’s hair.

“Boys as beautiful as you are wasted here.” The brush of stubble on Druvik’s cheek startled him as the man pressed a kiss there, before moving to join his companions.

Heart skipping, Druvik snatched the dragonfly from his hair and pocketed it. But his mother had seen. And as soon as they left to dress down into their usual cloaks she’d snatched it from him.

“But–that was given to me.”

“Everything in our family? We share.” She dropped it into their sack of coins. “What will you do with such a thing? Strut among the sand dragons and vultures?”

How terrible. How cruel. And Druvik swiped the back of his hand over his thick lashes, smearing the tears.

But it would haunt him–the man’s words.

Boys as beautiful as you are wasted here.

His chin stopped quivering. His mouth set, and his eyes grew resolute.

He deserved better.  

—

Falling in love was easy for a man like Druvik–who grew soft and pliable under attention. Whose devotion could be bought by trinkets and treats, metallic jewelry that reflected his pretty face and candies placed on his tongue, melting thick and saccharine down the back of his throat.

Druvik loved generously. But his attention was often spread thin, and he was fickle. Easily diverted. To have the undivided passion of his heart–there was a price. And fortunately for Druvik, many were willing to cater to the whims of a beautiful, young Suli boy, whose body moved like a large cat’s as he danced. Lithe, nimble, but with an undeniable force as his illusions scattered around him and the tent grew dark and dim, with only the fire in his hands to light the small space.

Many had claimed to love him, but only Darius had offered to take him away.

Ketterdam, Darius explained, was a city surrounded by the sea. Where buildings knocked against each other for space, and their doors gaped open to spit thick clusters of people out into the streets. Darius’ father was a merchant there, and at eighteen, Darius would soon follow suit. And Druvik listened as the man described the silks they would import from Shu Han, firebirds and dragons embroidered on the sleeves of robes, and the white jade bracelets that brought wisdom. Of Fjerdan metalworks, swords sharp enough to cut stone, rings with drops of blood stone, and marble rocks carved into wolves. And Druvik was charmed, eyes wide and dark in the flickering shadows of Darius’ tent.

“Someday–I want to see it.” Druvik lowered his voice, intimate and sweet. “For now, at least I have this.” He toyed with the white jade on his wrist.

“What if–” Druvik heard Darius shift, and he sighed as the merchant combed his fingers through his hair. Darius’ voice wavered in the dark. “Come with me.”

Druvik startled. How wicked. “Don’t tease.” Letting out a huff of air and drawing away.

Darius’ hand found his wrist, fingers tight, demanding, refusing to relent. “I’m not teasing.” The words came faster, as if he could stave Druvik’s doubt with a flood of promises. “I’ll provide your room. Your board. Anything you need. Just–please. Dance for me. That’s all I ask for.”

Druvik laughed, the sound low and teasing, but not cruelly so. And he pressed his open mouth to Darius’ collarbone.

“Dance with me then.”

The next morning, Darius went ahead. And as he promised, he secured Druvik passage across the True Sea several days later.

Druvik boarded the boat, fiddling with the white jade bracelet on his wrist. And he thought of firebird silks and of a city filled to bursting. Of how he could use his gift of the small science to draw the people of Ketterdam to him, devoted to the green glass bottles in his satchel, filled with his little magics, liquid illusions for them to suck into their lungs so everything brought bliss.

He did not think of his mother, father, or sister. Nor of his grandmother, weak and ailing

Stepping to the bow of the ship, Druvik simply saw the ocean. And it was beautiful, blue, and full of promise.

CHARACTER HEADCANONS:

-  Druvik is frightened of water. He never learned to swim, and stubbornly refuses to do so even with the lake so close to the Little Palace. He’ll dip his feet in, and gingerly descend until his waist. But if anyone attempts to draw him deeper he’ll quickly retreat. Surprisingly, this fear doesn’t extend to the ocean. He finds it too beautiful, and the prospect of new places waiting across the broad expanse of water diverts him.

- His grandmother was also a Grisha. As a young girl, another Suli had taken her in and trained her, their methods more in-tune with nature and the seasons. She tested all her children for the gift. Then her grandchildren. Only Druvik shared her skill of manipulating the elements. They made medicines to share and sell, crafted trinkets to catch the eye, and wove impossible details into fabric. Unlike the Grisha of the Little Palace, he and his grandmother never divided their skills into Durasts and Alkemi. They embraced their power as a whole. And their methods were unconventional, deeply rooted in history and tradition. Even now, as Druvik does his work in the Small Palace, his approach to Alkemi is seen as odd among his peers. He’s known to leave dangerous combustibles to steep for five evenings under the moon. For poisons to sit in the snow to freeze, taking them in to melt, then out to freeze again. Either there is meaning to Druvik’s methods, or it’s a testament to his skill as an Alkemi–but his poisons and powders have an undeniable potency.

- Druvik has always been the envious sort. He’s always pined for what he doesn’t have, and vies for things that others own. Clothes and jewelry, money and rare trinkets from around Ravka. This behavior extends not only to objects but to people. Druvik tends to gravitate towards the ones that shine brightest, stand tallest, those that take control and make decisions so all he has to do is shift along to accommodate. So it’s in his nature to sidle next to the more powerful Grisha. His adoration for the Sun Summoner and the Darkling is open and obvious. While he is Alkemi, he will often spend time he should be working in Durasts’ work stations, making small brooches of glowing, gold suns and white pearls for Gemma to pin in her hair or keftas, and heavy black rings with shadows swimming in the silver for Aleksander. Other Grisha might accuse him of currying favor. And he is, in a way. But he’d always loved the image Gemma and Aleksander present as leaders of the Grisha, and he’d never been very good at taming his affections.

- His work ethic is questionable at best. He has no love for creating weapons. He finds it barbaric. Tasteless. Druvik believes his small science was meant for pleasure not pain, to deliver bliss and not misery. So when tasked with Alkemi duties for the war, he often puts forth the bare minimum of effort. If given the right attention and motivation, he can be caught up in spurts of impulsive tinkering, afternoon hours bleeding into late nights until his work table spills over with pretty poisons and deadly, glittering powders. But he’s more likely to be found creating sweet addictions during work time than the projects he’s actually tasked with.

- He is notorious for currying favor among the nobles. They have power, prestige, but more importantly–wealth. And Druvik was always a man who enjoyed a good spoiling. So he is often found with small groups of nobles, earning an intimate spot in their circles with his pretty face and words dripping sweet and thick. He demurs when they offer gifts, but always takes them. He’s been known to find himself patrons among the nobility to fund the luxury he enjoys.

- He loves people. Adores them. Is devoted to many and lavishes each with positive attention. But ultimately, Druvik seems to only consider them additions to his own narrative. He’s never been tethered to anyone. Not even Darius, to whom he owes his escape from the Suli lifestyle, abandoned in Ketterdam with the rest. Ever fickle, ever advancing in that constant need satiate his appetite for life and lavishness, he is blindsided by his passions. He doesn’t purposefully ignore the repercussions he wrecks among those he leaves behind. Perhaps, despite abandoning his Suli way of life, it continues to reflect in the way he moves forward, never wasting time looking back.

EXTRAS: I have a pintrest board here.

ANYTHING ELSE? OMITTED.