#and a girl with him with the iconic red flower in hair

[dazeddoodles]

Eda must have come across human realm music in her time as a junk seller. What kind of music do you think she and Raine each like?

Raine obviously likes classical music (Beethoven, Mozart, all those dead guys) so by association Eda must like it too. But she also likes any memey song about sex sung by popular female singers hehe (most songs by Megan thee Stallion)

But you know she secretly likes and relates to Mitsiki a little too much, like c'mon she is literally so Mitski coded. Speaking of sapphic music, I made a whole comic about young Raine listening to Girls in Red.

Idk if this counts but we know Raine and Eda like musicals (from the BATTs play) so I think Raine would LOVE the musical Hadestown. They end up relating to the main character with music powers who just wants to be with their girlfriend but their love story ends in tragedy 😔💔

[hoseoksluna]

SMOKE, iv. | myg

pairing: idol!yoongi x smoke!oc (ft. jungkook)

genre: angst, heart-wrenching fluff

word count: 6.5k

summary: everything that hurts must begin to stop at one point. 

pinterest board: smoke / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: DOMESTIC ABUSE, oc gets triggered a lot in this chapter, dissociation, anxiety, alcohol consumption, a brief mention of physical violence, religion, praying, jk and oc smoke together.

note: hi, my babies. i'm here with another chapter. i really like this chapter a lot and i like where it's heading, so i hope you like it as much as you do. let me know what yout think. sorry, this is a bit short, but i didn't want to drag it out, esp. if everything that needed to get settled did. i love you all soso much, mwah.

When Jungkook appears, uncanvassed, damp and abysmal, in the field of my swimming vision, I have to stop dead in my tracks to see if my inebriated brain isn’t playing tricks on me. 

He’s sat on the half-wet stone of the staircase leading up to the street where I live. My apartment complex is just straight up, a minute away from where he’s waiting for me, and the wheels within my brain cells begin to whirr and turn, reminding me that I tapped on the crescent moon icon on my phone before I absconded to my girl best friend for a heart-to-heart conversation and a new set of nails. Misty-eyed, I recounted to her the monochrome poetry lines that bloomed through last night between me and Yoongi and wilted in my bare, sleep-cloaked hands this morning while she filed down the freshly baked acrylic powder. The moment she heard the deadly words that were spat at me, she flung her rosy, tiger-print file across her station, got up to her feet without a word and came back with a bottle of my favorite pink nectar in even pinker, fancy glass, certainly not meant for wine. 

And I downed each and every refill in one, singular gulp everytime she moved onto the next step and my hand was free. 

And Miyun… as much as she erupted in her idiosyncratic rage, her work on my nails was immaculate and untouched by her vivid lava. Curses and funny remarks, that yanked the weight off my shoulders and wiped it out using her vigor and red-hot magma, shattered the room until I laughed so hard that the alcohol dipped into my system far quicker than usual. She glued on the crosses I had asked for while I chortled, and she shushed me, breaking into a soft, non-obvious laughter that she tried to keep at bay while her hair fanned around her. Cherry-red, long and lustrous, curling on the smooth skin of her arms. The laughter died down and silence replaced it as she laid down the last layer of top coat over her artwork—and I felt a certain inspiration seize me. 

“What if I dyed my hair red, too?” I voiced it out, a seawave of different kinds of co-existing emotions ebbing and flowing in me. Airiness and offense, care and distance. And they were all roped around the memory of Yoongi in me like the roots of flowers in a colorful meadow soil. Vast and expansive, yet delicate and frail. One sweep of the wind’s harsh breath and they tilt—and remain tilted. 

I do, too, despite my efforts. 

Despite my ingrained fight to straighten and my strivings to be unaffected, unagitated and undisturbed by the way I was disrespected by Yoongi. They were all fruitless, however. Barren of my long-exercised resilience against the violence of men, my wariness and vigilance of them only strengthening. 

He took me to the far north side of paradise with his tongue and fingers in the middle of the night. And when the sun rose, he treated me like I dragged him to the deepest of hell and left him there to perish of starvation and thirst.

I should have seen it coming and prepared myself for it, especially when I had decided in my heart to take care of him, take care of the deep-sunk, nameless agony in him that prevented him from coloring our stanzas. But alas… it came to face me too soon, in my gossamer defenselessness.

Yoongi metamorphosed into the vermin that Ji-hoon was. His face faded on top of his while my ex-boyfriend’s body remained intact, broad and fear-instilling. And when Yoongi stood up so quickly, I sailed back, against my will, to the sheer realm of brutality that I had dwelled in, years ago. Yoongi with Ji-hoon’s body, abandoning me after I got myself into trouble. For wearing too much make-up, for having long manicured nails, for dressing a certain way that was impertinent in our relationship. He would leave a bruise for every mistake I made to discipline me, to ascertain that I would learn from it and never do it again. And I did learn after I was depleted of color-correcting concealers, the sinews I would use to raise my hands and tap the cream product in, erasing my foolish mistakes from the eyes of Jungkook, Minyun and my parents. 

I fought for too long during the relationship. For my freedom, for my dignity. And I fought for too long after the relationship to go through it all over again. 

I dreaded being hit when Yoongi stood up from my couch. Flinched when he went around the coffee table past me because I anticipated the swing of his arm with my eyes boring holes into my carpet. I had flexed my muscles to brace myself against the incoming physical pain so hard that I nearly gasped, pathetically, for air when he walked on into the corridor. 

But I still couldn’t look at him. 

Although I knew, rationally, that Ji-hoon wasn’t present, I didn’t let up until he shut the door behind me with a soft click because my body didn’t connect to my clear-headedness. It was caught in a fight or flight response like an ensnared bird. 

And this must’ve been what Minyun was seeing when she contemplated me, paused in the middle of dusting her station clean with her pale-pink kabuki brush. Because she resumed right after once I reciprocated her gaze and curled her lips under her teeth. 

“We can go to Olive Young then, and stop by 7-Eleven after to get some snacks and drinks.” 

She reflected on my wound and didn’t hesitate to cradle my head and bring me to a safe refuge. 

And I didn’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her and hug her until all those oxymoronic emotions, which I felt towards Yoongi, dulled in the smallness of me. 

I let her take the lead. Choose the vibrant, deep cherry tint that would annul my trigger and dye me anew. I sipped on my iced cherry drink for the occasion while she glided the brush along my strands, splattering most of the orange paste on the thick wisp of the symbol of my connection with Jungkook, the only man in my life who never used his manliness against me. I thought about him as she rubbed it in; and I thought about Grookey. Thought about how, in that very moment, I was saying goodbye to the self I possessed while being attached to them. 

And when Minyun washed my hair and curled her round brush through it, the stark contrast to who I was before overwhelmed me so much that I began to weep. 

I couldn’t recognize myself, I didn’t know who that girl in the mirror was. But something told me that she was stronger than who I used to be. And while it felt petrifying to be standing alone in the crook of my past self and my current self, the longer I gaped at myself, the more I adapted to the assurance that she was emanating. 

She wasn’t going to take any shit from any man ever again. Certainly not with darkly, sequoia-kissed hair like that.

Minyun brushed her thumbs under my eyes and shifted me deeper into the refuge by grabbing my shoulders and guiding me to her balcony, where she sat me down on her chair while she crouched in front of me. Sliding a tiny cigarette into her IQOS and taking a puff, she leaned over to the square table and grabbed her pack, nudging a longer, classic cigarette between my chapped lips. 

I never smoked on my own. I would take hits from her slender, pink case of flavored air or steal her cigarettes when I had enough buzz from the alcohol in my veins. Forget about it the following days and weeks that we wouldn’t see each other because I was such a hermit. But I didn’t want to be one anymore—I wanted to spend more time with her from now on. With Jungkook, too. 

“You look so pretty with your new hair,” Minyun said, sweetly, leaning back on her sock-clad heels in her Louis Vuitton slides, wrapping her arm around her knees like I did around my chest last night, and I inhaled her compliment along with the drag of her cigarette. “We’re twins now.” 

I had become such a fragile egg shell that her words multiplied in me as they settled in my lungs, bursting and imbuing me with pigments of confidence. And I beamed through my tears, a light protruding through clouds, as I exhaled the smoke. 

It felt as natural as breathing—to claim her cigarettes and make them a thing of my own. 

In place of Grookey. 

It’s what Jungkook spots first, instead of my hair, once he senses my presence and lifts his head, standing up to his feet, towering over me. And he must’ve been waiting for a long time because his scolding words are flung out first before anything else.

“Where have you been? Do you know how scared I was? I called you up. I rang your doorbell and you wouldn’t answer. All day.” 

I take a long drag just to stabilize myself, gratitude unfolding in my sternum for the way he isn’t manly. 

He’s merely caring. 

Hovering above me, moving his arms in my proximity, features stern in his soft manner, and yet I���m not threatened by my fear because I know him, because I trust him. Trust that everything about him is securely soft and boy-like, round and endearing—even when he raises his voice a little at me. 

Minjun and I took another bottle of rosé to her balcony that we finished by passing it to each other and smoking like there was no tomorrow, so the liters of the nectar that flit in my bloodstream elevate how I see him and my body is naturally inclined to do something I normally wouldn’t do. 

And much to Jungkook’s surprise and a little bit to his dismay, I listen to that hushed tone of my heart and obey it—discovering that it is an aid and nothing else. 

“Since when do you—” 

I silence his stupid, yet valid question by wrapping my arms around his neck, careful not to nip his skin with the hot prickle of the cigarette. Its orange tip envelops us in a soft glow in the middle of the darkening evening, the smoke surrounding us like a protection ring. It takes three beats of my heart—which in reality must be his and surely not mine considering the numbness that has descended, fully, in me—for his arms to move and swathe me in complete safety. 

He’s rescuing me, like Minyun did. Bouncing off of her and finishing the job, without knowing a thing about it. 

We become one, singular form of a penumbra, dressed as we are in this unlit shade. Jungkook with his cargos and baggy sweatshirt; me with my tracksuit that’s too big for me. His neck is cold and I scatter a little bit of my warmth upon that skin, regretful that he waited for me this long because of my foolish forgetfulness. 

My dearest boy best friend. 

I squeeze him harder and Jungkook buries his nose in my shoulder, fisting the fabric of my hoodie on my back. 

And then, he sniffs my hair. Makes a Korean sound of discovery and surprise. Pulls back just to look at me with narrowed, inspecting eyes. Drags me to the nearest street lamp—and I watch his eyelids grow to their original, bulbous size. 

Roundie. 

He has noticed my hair, at last. 

Fluffs it and completely destroys the impeccable blowout that Minyun gave me. 

“What the fuck, Jungkook?” I grumble, pushing his hand away, but, like my hoodie, he fists both of my wrists in one hand and sinks the other one into my length, following the diligent curve that Minyun created. 

I huff, and the sound is deadened by the devastating words he utters, disappearing into the prickling coldness of the air. 

“What did he say to you that made you do this?”

I dwell in silence, my numbed emotions leaden, dented and yet sharp enough that I feel their resurfacing pain. 

I look away, untangling my wrists from his hold. Jungkook unclenches his fist, but the ash from my cigarette lands on the back of his hand. I gasp, quick to brush it away, however he’s quicker. Doesn’t make a sound in response. Shakes his hand and steals my cigarette, puffing on it. 

My mouth parts. Shock strangles me. 

He smokes? 

Jungkook’s seriousness droops as he chuckles, dryly, at my reaction. He takes a step back, slides a hand in the pocket of his pants, coalesces into the shadows of the early blooming night. 

“I didn’t know you smoked either,” he says, smiling in that lopsided way of his, a large dent in his cheek. And it feels as though I’m getting to know my best friend for the first time. What else is he hiding? What does he do, in utmost normalcy, when he’s not with me? 

He dips his chin to look at the cigarette before he flicks his thumb across its ivory butt. The ashy particles fly to the rocky ground in tandem with his smile. And his mind travels back to this morning’s misfortune, as rapid as a rocket shooting up beyond the clouds. 

“I’m not giving this to you until you tell me what he said. The last time you did something to your hair like this was when you left that good-for-nothing son of a bitch.” 

A fleck of memory appears before my eyes. Me dousing my hair in black dye with my own hands while Jungkook stood by; him putting my star clips in my no longer virgin strands to distract my tears, me sliding the same ones into his, making a middle part and laughing until my stomach hurt. He had healed me by just being with me, not expecting words, not expecting any explanations. 

Him asking me for them has a great meaning, a certain hastiness that I know full well has a stabbing pain, and I feel his fear, instead of mine. Understand, all of a sudden, why he waited for so long.

And I put him first, just so that emotion unclenches its fist from him. Nod my head to let him know that I’ll tell him, bare my heart for him. 

I walk backwards and sit down on the stony stairs. Jungkook joins me, right beside me. Takes a long drag of the cigarette as if to prepare himself for what I’m about to share with him—and I need the same smoky courage. I take it from him, puff on it and give it back to him. He gives me a gentle smile and I recognize the reason behind it.

A new form of bonding settles between us. 

I reciprocate the smile and gather my words in the brief silence. The wind helps me as it breezes through my hair, fondles my face ever so gently and when I lift my chin at its attention, my eyes stumble across the full moon. 

I breathe in its pristine energy. Let my lungs be full of its beams—and let it cleanse me, thoroughly. 

Jungkook’s patience helps me, too, as he quietly finishes the cigarette, stubbing it out on the step. Ready to listen. 

And so I begin. 

“I invited him upstairs because I wanted to,” I start and realize that I have to come forth with the truth. Deem that he deserves to know. I look inward, quickly, and try to detect any obstacles in me—but I find myself empty, cleansed, a dried fountain with no drops of water, yet I am free. With the alcohol still trickling in my bloodstream. “I didn’t feel sick. That was a lie.” I flick my eyes to his reaction, catch him widening his eyes and parting his mouth and I decide it’s time for another cigarette. I pull one for him and myself, lighting it up for the both of us. “I didn’t want you to know that I got triggered. I’m sorry for that.” 

Jungkook blows the smoke in the other direction, away from my face. He furrows his brows in pity as he leans his elbows on his outstretched knees. 

I expect him to yell at me�� but he does the exact opposite, soothing me down to the marrow of my bone. 

“Triggered? How?” he asks, his voice so muted that I barely hear it, lips pursed in that eternal pout of his and mine mirror it, naturally. I appreciate his gentleness so much that I lean the side of my head against his shoulder. And he leans his against the top of mine. 

“I guess I wanted to be alone when I left the room and I found Hobi at the end of the hall. I sat with him for a little while and when he started talking, I realized he was drunk and my body gave up on me. I dissociated like I used to after the breakup. I thought I was better, that I healed from it, but it’s been a long since I was in the company of men, you know? I didn’t want to disappoint you, especially when I’d promised you that it wasn’t happening to me anymore.” 

I hear him take a strong puff and I reflect him, doing the same. Then, he sighs and extends his legs, his back rounding forward. I watch the smoke make patterns in the night-tinged air and I breathe differently, now that I’ve pulled the skeleton out of the closet. And even though my emotions are numb, my softness deepens when Jungkook takes the bony creature into his arms and begins to dance with it. 

“You could never disappoint me,” he whispers, his words the music for the dance, and I wrap my fingers around his clothed forearm, just holding him there, needing it. “You should’ve told me. Did you think I would tell you off for it? Of course not, you silly goose.” 

I chortle, and the smoke comes out in staccatos that are guided by my tender laughter. And he melts it with his following words. 

“How can I help you? Should I get you a therapist? I don’t want you to take meds for it…” he trails off, clicking his tongue and fishing out his phone from his pocket. His fingers move on the keyboard of his screen and the letters I read fracture my heart and glue it back together all the same. “Grounding techniques. Breathing slowly while counting. Different sounds, walking barefoot, blanket, ice cube or cold water—”

My mouth opens before my brain registers what my weakened heart longs to say. 

“Yoongi splashed cold water on my face and neck and that brought me back,” I spew out, tiny tears lining my vision at the memory, at the feel of his cold, solid hands, at the sight of his wide, fearful eyes that relaxed when he realized that I was back in the present times. “He saved me.” 

I blink them away; I smoke them away. 

Jungkook sucks in a breath, clicking on an article about dissociation and scrolling down. “Yoongi and I will be your therapists, then. For free.” 

I look away and withdraw from him, twiddling with my fingers. My heart enlarges, yearns for it—yearns to create a link to his beyond the physical bound we have, reach out for him like a child for its father, but my fear of being triggered again, of being afflicted by his pain slaps its arms away from him. 

It’s not meant to be—Yoongi is not the one for me because if he were, there wouldn’t be any barrier between us. And with that knowledge, my obsession with him, slowly and painfully, dissipates, leaving my frailty and my willingness to help him, if he’d ever need me, in the hands of God. 

But knowing the faces of manliness and ego, Yoongi won’t allow himself to be helped by me. And that bruises me more than the words he flung at me.  

Jungkook senses my absence more vividly than I want him to, and his head swivels in my direction, the article momentarily forgotten. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, prodding me, and it’s me who sighs this time. 

I take the last drag and gaze at the moon as I speak. “Yoongi can’t help me when he needs help himself.” 

The yellowish face of the bulbous planet nods at me and I feel, ever so slightly, at ease, leaning my elbows back on the steps. That is until a lump forms in my throat and, inertly, I ask the feminine luna for her strength, for her resilience, and I ask her to help me become my new self that resembles her so much. 

Jungkook locks his phone and stares at me. “What happened this morning?” 

And perhaps she does nurture me with what I need through her radiance after all because I don’t hesitate to tell him. 

“I wore lingerie to bed that was see-through and when I looked for him and found him crying on my couch, he told me, ‘can you, please, put something fucking on?’ and left,” I unravel, violently, mimicking Yoongi’s coarse morning voice, and Jungkook scoffs, averting his gaze. He sucks hard on the last of his cigarette before throwing it away with the same nerve, shaking his head as he thinks about those poisonous words. Validates me, like Minyun did. 

It takes several heartbeats and several more moonbeams puncturing my sternum before he turns back to me. 

“Check your phone.” 

A wrinkle between my brows. “Why?” 

“Just do it.” 

Without understanding why he wants me to do that, I comply. I pull out my phone from my purse, the light from the screen bathing me in stark blue. Jungkook chews on his bottom lip as he watches me read my notifications from him, Minyun and Netflix. And when I say nothing, he tilts his head and reads them on his own, only to groan and place it in his hands. 

Then, he stares off into the distance. 

“What?”

He takes my hand and drags me to my feet. “Come on.” 

I yelp and Jungkook yanks me to the patch of grass by the street lamp, kneeling by the gravel. And I can’t speak as he builds a praying altar of rocks, leaves and sticks. I can’t speak when he holds it in place and makes sure it doesn’t collapse, as small and sturdy as it is. And I can’t speak when he adorns it with an abandoned, pink flower petal that he finds nearby. Places it on the top of the last stone, against the flesh of the damp, green leaf that is propped by a petite rock. 

And in my silence, once he’s done, he tugs my hand down, sinking me to my knees. Sits back on his folded legs and presses his palms together. 

“God, I know that you know I don’t believe in you. My dad probably talks to you a lot about me, so I’m sure you know who I am. I don’t come to you because of me, though. I come to you right now because my friends need you,” Jungkook prays, his voice mellow and subdued, meant for my ears and the ears of God that I myself believe in, but don’t have a relationship with. I settle down into my respect for his bravery and kindness, closing my eyes, and I feel him enveloping his fingers around mine on my lap. My heart thumps and my other hand finds the way to it—I pin my palm to the left side of my chest, cradling those full-blooded strikes, willing the corners of my mouth not to quiver. “My dad says you know everything and right now I really hope that you know what Yoongi went through. I ask you, sincerely, to give him strength to be a better person. To make sure his feet don’t walk backwards but forward with the girl beside me. I also ask you to help her to not dissociate anymore, help her not remember that son of a bitch, sorry—that guy that broke her. And altogether, I ask you to heal them both. Also, make sure Yoongi mans up a little and texts her like I wanted. Or just do something, anything. Give him ideas. Make his balls grow or whatever. Thank you. Sorry for all I did. Amen.” 

The tears fall and I can’t halt them, nor do I want to. Lightness floods my chest, my mind, spreads all over my bones, and I breathe out in hiccups. I agree with his prayer by whispering the same ending word and when I glance at Jungkook, I see him meditating, privately, on something on his own. 

It inspires me, comforts me and impassions me to do the same. 

I flutter my eyes closed and quieten my breathing. 

Dear God, if I was wrong and this is for me, allow me to take care of Yoongi. Help us find a way towards each other and cleanse my heart from all the pain. 

And then the words spill, my prayer prolonging, and I discern that they don’t root from me, bathed in the glimmer of the moon as they are. 

I forgive him and I’m giving him another chance. Give us the opportunity to better our actions and communicate our pains. Give us the strength to do so. Give us the words. Give us peace of mind and clarity. Thank you. Amen. 

My tears have dried by the time I’m finished with my internal prayer. Jungkook has patiently waited the whole time, holding my hand, and he gives me the lovingest, most wholesome smile I’ve ever received in my life when I face him. He kisses my knuckles and I feel, strongly, that it seals our prayers. 

Helping me stand, it’s him who hugs me this time around. I bury my face in his chest, fisting the back of his sweatshirt like he did to me when I arrived. We remain like this, underneath the lenitive moonlight and the merciful eye of God that I sense upon us. And I know, in the abyss of my weakened heart, that I shall never forget about this moment. 

“Did you also feel that lightness in your chest?” Jungkook asks onto my hair, and I nod, too lost in my brimming, alive emotions—no longer numb, but erupting in tender colors—to answer. Love, thankfulness, delicate joy and that persisting lightness. 

Grabbing my shoulders, he breaks the hug and grins down at me. He glows underneath that street lamp, a pure whiteness lining his form, the tiny twinkling freckles of stars scattering upon his skin and I love him. 

I love my best friend. 

And the more I look at him, the more I’m reminded of the way I put the star clips in his hair and I think it would only be right if he were to wear them right now. 

I link my arm around his. 

“Let’s go inside.” 

The moonlight shone upon our way, ascertaining that we didn’t stumble. Reached a standstill and formed a ring around us when we stopped by the door to my apartment building and had another cigarette together, this time another shared one because I felt as though I had inhaled too much smoke throughout the day. 

The stars poked at my back in our silence, encouraging me to break it, and I did—once it was my turn to puff. I thanked him, earnestly, for the prayer, showed him my nails embellished with little silver crosses, ones he gaped at with utmost fascination before it all spurred something in him enough for him to share with me what went down earlier in the morning after Yoongi left my apartment. 

Crestfallen Yoongi, drenched from the rain, murky, cloud-bearing; the very one I know. Jungkook had to, essentially, extricate him from the force of his innermost downpour, and I waded through the torrent with each information he provided me. 

He was profoundly regretful and made a fool out of himself by choking at the sound of my name—something that made my cheeks ignite with coy flattery and my fingertips to tingle. The knowledge that he rued his actions wove through my prayer and quelled me, my heart and my mind, until there was no ounce of ache that bothered me. 

I entered a state of sobriety, plopping down onto my couch with a small basket of hair ties and clips. Jungkook wasn’t really cognizant of what I was doing as he focused on telling the story, describing, in his teasing manner, the way Yoongi looked like while he spoke of me. The way his cheeks flushed and light burst in his eyes. He was so preoccupied with the task that he didn’t flinch when I brushed his hair with my Kuromi tangle teezer, nor when I put up his hair in two pigtail buns and secured them with matching, violet Kuromi hair ties. 

His hair felt brittle in my fingers from all the bleach the stylist used on his hair. Briefly, I remembered the way he specifically asked her if there was a drugstore alternative to the professional dye and he went to buy it for me that very day and we splattered it on together, with him choosing the strand, of course. I made a mental note to talk about his hair with him later. 

I grew hot when he shifted to the part, where he read to him the message I sent for him. I had cleaned the whole apartment in effort to rid myself of the residue of my trigger, but my care for him remained because I understood where he came from. What I hadn’t known was that after listening to my heart and typing out the message, I would get tormented by my mind so viciously that I had to seek my girl best friend. My care for him sank to the bottom of me and the offense I felt resurfaced, swallowing me whole. 

To know, in the present time, that Yoongi thought it too good to be true, grew smaller when Jungkook began to tell him off, washes it all out and I am a brand new canvas. 

I take off my hoodie, aflame. 

“He really thought about what I said to him and he even put your number in his phone. I visibly saw him opening a new text message and typing something,” Jungkook says, exasperated, and I have to chuckle to myself—he looks so damn adorable with the two minty buns, but he’s still missing those clips. I search for them in my basket, reveling in that fire of his, which his words are permeated with, the heat stifling me. “I thought he sent it to you. I didn’t see him do it because I got a call from Namjoon, asking where we were. We had a meeting right after—and that’s also something I need to talk to you about.” 

My ears perk up and I freeze with the clips in my hands. 

The smile Jungkook gives me this time is cheerless. 

The sweat that coats me morphs into a layer of iciness. 

“We’re going on tour abroad next month,” he imparts and my heart closes. I disintegrate, the clips falling out of my hands. And the stars blanketing the heavens outside must do the same, plummeting to the ground, conjointly, with me. “We were supposed to have another concert tonight, a secret one that would be made into a docuseries, but then America fucking called.” 

That means no hanging out with Jungkook, no star clips; no seeing Yoongi and leaving things as they are—unfinished and still aching on his part. 

And that leaves me alone with my thoughts. 

I pout, my heart dead silent. 

“When will you be back?” 

Jungkook gathers the fallen clips and sets them down upon my open, vulnerable palms. Manages to warm them up in that brief exchange. 

“There aren’t many tour dates. I’ll be back before—”

My phone pings in the kitchen. 

And before I can breathe, Jungkook scurries to his feet and flees. 

Grabs my phone and holds it in front of my face, so the detector can unlock what the notification hides. And once it does and his eyes sweep over the lettering multiple times, he squeals. Springs. Beams like the warmest star he is, personified firelight. And I’m more happy that he’s happy than I’m happy about the fact Yoongi has done something. 

For me. 

Jungkook slides the phone into my clammy hand and I let out a little breath. Instagram has notified me that a certain person that goes by the name agustd liked my post. I smirk, cupping my face, while I click on the notification to see what exactly he liked. Jungkook sits beside me and looks over, laughing, vehemently, through his nose before he starts clapping. 

My stomach jumps, stirring my butterflies awake. 

I’m wearing a knitted set in the picture, nearly pellucid with how stretched out and purposefully ripped the fabric is, and I’m sat on my vanity table in my room with my arched back facing the mirror, my long black hair obscuring most of the sheerness of my spine. 

Is that a truce? Liking a picture where I’m wearing something so akin to the slip that broke us this morning? If he did, then that’s an intelligent move in the chessboard of all toxicity. 

And I like it. 

I blush, profusely. But then another notification rings through my living room and Jungkook stills beside me. We share a look, both of our mouths parted, before he steals my phone, though I slap his back and retrieve it from his grasp, the shifting causing the message to get opened. 

I run a hand down my face. “You clicked on it and now he can see I’ve read it, Jungkook.” 

He merely laughs. “So what? Read it.” 

I groan, tipping my chin, focusing my gaze on the letters, and my heart thrashes in my ribcage. And their meaning propels it to fly on the wings of my butterflies. 

The letters tremble in tandem with my hand as I read them. 

“I’m sorry for my behavior this morning, you didn’t deserve that. I hope you allow me to make it up to you as best as I can. Car drive tomorrow at 8 PM? Food’s on me, you just bring your playlist, moon kitty. And your sneakers. Yoongi. Jungkook gave me your number.” 

My heart stops mid-flight. And I don’t see Jungkook’s eyes abounding in the glow of the stars. Neither do I hear his laughter and his praises for Yoongi because I walk backwards into myself. 

Bring your sneakers. 

I see myself getting hit for wearing heels. I don’t feel the pain, but I have a glimpse of the bruise forming on my cheek, a patch of red and purple staining me for weeks only because I wanted to feel pretty and feminine on our date night. And before Jungkook’s voice can get to me, the echo of Ji-hoon’s command fans out in me. 

You won’t dress like a slut when you’re with me. Take them off. That dress, too. And wear your sneakers. 

I was forced to wear jeans and Nike’s to a fancy restaurant while he sported nice pants and a polo. And much to his dismay, and later to mine as well, I still received stares and smiles. From men and women alike. 

The memory splinters at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. And I perceive that it’s just that. 

A memory. 

I didn’t dissociate. 

And vulnerability clutches me so tightly that I shrivel and don’t think before I fold myself into Jungkook, hugging him until the memory completely evaporates. 

Jungkook pets my head as I bury it deeper into his chest. “What’s wrong?” 

“Just a memory,” I heave, blinking rapidly, and Jungkook holds me to him, sifting his fingers through my hair. 

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, continuing with the movement that intersperses mollification all over my being, and I nod. 

As long as I have my best friend, I will be okay. 

“It happened this morning, too,” I admit, unafraid, and Jungkook stills for a moment. “When Yoongi got up from this couch, I thought I was gonna get hit again. And now when I read that he wants me to wear sneakers, I remembered the way Ji-hoon hit me because I wore heels that one time. But it wasn’t so bad. I didn’t dissociate. Your prayer helped.” 

Jungkook curls around me and holds me tighter, putting me back together, and I let him. 

I let him because there’s nothing else for me to do. 

There’s no one else for me. 

“He’s not here anymore. He’s not in your life. I broke his leg, remember? He can’t walk back into your life.” 

It’s the only memory, where he’s present, that brings me pleasure: Jungkook finding out I was a victim of domestic abuse and chasing him all over the city until he yanked him by the back of his shirt and beat him until he was unrecognizable. He broke his leg by purposefully driving over it with his motorcycle upon leaving, considering the deed done. 

“Every time your bad memories come back to haunt you, remember this one,” Jungkook advises and I pleat his words, stuffing them somewhere inside my sternum, where I can return to them and remember them like he said. Use them as a weapon.

Something tells me that now I shall need it more than I ever have before.

“Yoongi isn’t like him, I promise,” he continues, seeping his boyish warmth into my skin as he cups my face and makes me look at him. I feel as though I have run a marathon with the way I breathe spasmodically and Jungkook sees me, composes me by leading me to take deep breaths that subdue my nerves. “I regretted letting him take you home but for a far different reason. Underneath all that pain is a good person. A romantic that has lost his hope, but if there’s anything I can depend on, it’s the fact that Yoongi will find what he’s lost. And he’s halfway there. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have texted you.” 

I ponder his words, my heart collecting all those stars that have plummeted from the heavens, and, internally, I use their light to help me comprehend the deeper meaning behind his words. A romantic that has lost his hope. I wonder what meadow of agony he walked through—and I wonder how much it would devastate me if I ever were permitted to place my bare feet upon his footprints on that flowery soil. 

“You can trust him because I trust him.”

I slide the star clips beneath the space buns I twisted his hair in and I nod. 

“Let’s text him back.” 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist | READ third part

[envyenvys]

Some scenes from the Stevie Harrington au I’ve been rotating in my mind for months

Details & IDs under the cut:

[ID 1: Stephanie Harrington speaking into a walkie-talkie, her text bubble reads:

“Sound off, shitheads.”

She has long brown hair with big waves, and is wearing a white tank top and blue jeans. She looks vaguely annoyed or exasperated. End ID 1]

[ID 2: Steph lying stomach-down on the end of a bed, propped up on her elbows so she can hold hands with Chrissy Cunningham, who’s speaking. Chrissy’s text bubbles read:

“Jason just doesn’t get it. I wanna hang out, and shop, and cheer, and beat the shit out of interdimensional man-eating monsters. You know, I wanna do girly stuff!”

Steph looks indulgently down at Chrissy, who’s smiling and sitting on the floor. Steph’s wearing a red crop top and blue jeans, and Chrissy has on a yellow and white striped headband, a white and pink floral print button-up shirt, and sunny yellow overalls, which have multicoloured flowers embroidered around the hips and ankles. End ID 2]

Chrissy’s dialogue here is inspired by a similar quote from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, because I thought it would be a fun & cute thing for her to say, and her outfit is inspired by one of princess Diana’s bc she’s a fashion icon.

[ID 3: Steph and Robin Buckley, both in their Scoops Ahoy uniforms, complete with the hats. Robin’s holding up a whiteboard divided into ‘hit’ and ‘miss’ sections. ‘Miss’ has twelve tally marks, and ‘hit’ has a single tally with a small question mark beside it. Their dialogue reads:

Robin: Board’s getting full, Harrington. You’re a real heartbreaker today.

Steph: Told you I could make this outfit work.

Steph is smiling, holding an ice cream scoop, and her hair’s braided over her shoulder with a red scrunchie. Robin looks amused, like she’s teasing. End ID 3]

[ID 4: Steph and Dustin Henderson in the scene from season 2 where they’re leaving a trail of meat for Dart on the railroad tracks. They both have yellow gloves and are holding buckets of meat, and Steph has her bat over her shoulder. Their dialogue reads:

Steph: I’ll bring you some of my Farrah Fawcett spray.

Dustin: Isn’t that for girls?

Steph: It’s for hair.

The word ‘hair’ is underlined. Steph is wearing a light blue and purple jacket over a red turtleneck and blue jeans, and her hair is in a ponytail with a red scrunchie. Dustin is wearing his canon outfit, complete with the baseball cap and headset. He looks skeptical. End ID 4]

Bonus transcript of me explaining the single tally + question mark in dms:

🍓[me]: Snappy dialogue to indicate that the board is abt men failing to flirt with her and not the other way around 👍

🍇[beloved]: who's the hit?

🍓: Eddie lmfao

🍓: The question mark is there bc Robin was so baffled by Eddie’s complete lack of rizz that she’s not sure she even interpreted that correctly

🍇: KNEW it

🍇: robin watching the entire time: 🤨

🍓: He wasn’t even trying to flirt is the thing he just got up there and lost his mind and his friends were standing behind him clearly being like “we don’t know this guy” and somehow steph got like… giggly??

🍓: Robin, afterwards: what the hell was that

🍓: Steph, clueless: what was what? 😀❓

🍓: Eddie crouching down behind one of those large decorative plants for ten straight minutes desperately holding his head in his hands shinji-style to stave off the cringe

🍓: His ice cream melts btw

🍇: his friends are standing a full meter away from him, pointedly not looking

🍓: Yeah they’re on the other end of the food court sitting at a table facing him but very carefully avoiding actually looking at him. They’d put their backs to him but the last time they did that (different mall, long story, they aren’t allowed in anymore) Eddie got kicked out by mall security and it took them like three hours to find him

🍓: This was before Gareth’s time and no one’s ever actually explained the full situation to him bc 1) they keep embellishing it and 2) eddie gets screechy when they try

[thepunkmuppet]

costumes / looks I desperately need gerard way to wear on stage (add your own in reblogs!!)

greek statue, he’s fully painted white including his hair with a white toga with a golden wreath thing on his head. I just think that would look sick

police uniform covered in blood

straight up zombie with full on green decaying gory make up

one of the heathers from heathers

either the blue cheerleader outfit from the i’m not okay mv or the iconic red ones from teenagers. then we’d have a little trio!

ghostface. possibly cunty ghostface as a treat

vanya from umbrella academy - young version with the school girl fit and black mask OR the all white comic version of course

also number five from umbrella academy (classic school boy fit)

this sounds weird but I think this would be really cool and meta for wwwy - a stereotypical mcr fan / emo. as in with that one black parade t shirt, heavy eyeliner, black nails, side swept emo fringe, studded bracelets and belts, skinny black jeans, vans or converse. again a very meta concept, after their old person looks in 2022 I can really see them doing this as a whole band this year and I would loooove to finally see gerard in the fashion style that’s so associated with him and his music

howl from howl’s moving castle

possibly also sophie from howl’s moving castle

slenderman

literally just satan. like the most stereotypical devil, give them fully painted red skin, horns, fangs, yellow or black eyes, maybe even goat legs. probably with a majestic black suit or something, or for a succubus vibe a black flowy dress with a slit down the leg. now that I think about it, this would be a SICK wwwy look to shock us all, esp if ray mikey and frank all dressed as other demons or the souls of the damned or some shit.

peni parker - he made her!!

question mark jumper from doctor who

also missy from doctor who omg

jane doe from ride the cyclone, possibly with added marionette or cracked porcelain makeup like in some renditions

classic majestic white-robed angel, with enormous fake wings and maybe even sparkly gold makeup and a big gold halo. also would be cool in all black, or all white but covered in blood (red, gold, or black, all would look cool)

buffy summers in prophecy girl, except he also has blood all over his neck from where the master bit her. I hope he’s watched btvs I think he would very much enjoy it this look would fit with their vampire vibe sooooo well

classic frankenstein’s monster

mothman. not only is he a heartthrob but he’s also a hunched goblin cryptid to me. the duality of man (he/theys)

jane prentiss from the magnus archives. if you don’t know she is a living flesh hive of sentient worms, she’s decaying and full of holes. again with all the nasty decaying rotting prosthetic makeup plus THE RED DRESS!!!

mr darcy vibes, sopping wet regency man with a big puffy white t shirt

opposite side of that, fuck it give him a full on ballroom gown

henry creel from stranger things (pre-vecna, nurse outfit)

any disney princess

crowley from good omens. my man looks GOOD in those anthony janthony aah sunglasses he has

cute flowy summer dress with like a flowery pattern. either go cottagecore with it and have flowers in his hair, or go full white soccer mum and put him in huge cunty sunglasses a massive straw sun hat with a ribbon on it

all-black cowboy!!!! the fact I’ve never seen him in a cowboy hat is actual sacrilege. also would very much appreciate an all-pink sequin studded cowboy

any alice in wonderland character, especially alice herself, the classic disney movie look with the blue dress and the bow in the hair. he would also do a great chesire cat (spooky big grin makeup paired with his weird ass dramatic facial expressions?? inspired) or a super extravagant queen / king / knave of hearts. also 100000% the mad hatter omfg, he was BORN to do a jefferson from once upon a time look!!

[avatarmerida]

My hobby is imagining that the huntlow interactions we got in For the Future are parallels to moments we would’ve gotten of them in a full season of human realm stuff.

Like the pinky hold™ is just so specific that I feel like it was Willow’s subtle way of reassuring him when tensions got high during countless failed portal attempts or when they’d be walking around town and didn’t want to get separated when he was still getting used to physical touch. And him pressing back has an even deeper meaning and it make me feral.

But also like the iconic catch I feel could be such a cute parallel because I imagine Willow in her attempt to be the strong, dependable one is extra confident around Hunter because that’s just one way of her concealing her developing feelings for him. Like nothing bothers her, nothing gets to her especially not this silly, bubbly feeling she gets around him. Like she flirts with him, of course, but she never lets herself get flustered, ya know? She is always in total control.

Until she’s not.

So one day they’re outside hanging lights or something to plan a surprise for Camila and Willow is standing on the ladder trying to make everything even. Amity has paired them up for nearly everything (part of her attempt to show Willow her support and that she’s a supportive friend) and Willow has been having a blast making him blush at every turn. She’s complimenting his hand made decorations, his organization, just every little thing. And this loser doesn’t know what to make of it. He just know he likes impressing Willow and he’s spending the whole day trying to find a non loser way to communicate that.

But our girl is unstoppable, she’s adding vines to the string of lights, flowers here and there to make it extra stunning and Hunter’s holding the ladder below her in total awe. She’s completely aware of his eyes on her and so maaaybe she overdoes it a bit showing off and twists her ankle and falls off the ladder. Hunter quickly leaps to her rescue and catches her like it’s nothing.

But she’s not hurt. She’s not embarrassed. She’s not worried. She’s entranced.

Hunter is asking her a million questions but it’s like she can’t hear anything over how much she’s just focused on him. On the way he’s figured out how to style his hair so you could see his face better. The way his eyes looked brighter in this light. The way his nose and jaw were just so sharp and defined and demanded to be seen. It’s like all the times she didn’t let herself think too long about how cute he was were adding up now. Her brain is pure white noise and she just knows her face is bright red.

But Hunter is to concerned to follow suit as he would normally being so close and he thinks he red face is a sign that she’s hurt. And then she’s not responding? Never mind that this is definitely not the highest height Willow has fallen from nor is it one that could do much damage, Hunter is in full protector mode. So he rushes off inside to Camila and when he runs his hair blows back gently in the wind and he scrunches his face all determined and she’s like woah, okay. He tells her to hold on and she gladly tightens her hold around his neck like you don’t have to tell me twice.

She’s speechless and he’s not even trying. He’s just thinking about her and being so gentle and sweet and… handsome.

And then they get inside and he’s telling Camila what happened and Willow is not helpful because she’s in full loser mode. Camila is trying not to laugh at the contrasting expressions because she herself was once a loser and knows the signs. But then her mom/doctor mode activates and she asks Willow if she’s hurt and Willow’s response?

“Who’s Willow?”

Not a panicked inquiry like her disaster friend Amity, but dreamy and light as though she’s having an out of body experience. She’s hypnotized, she’s delirious, she’s delusional. Hunter panics, thinking she’s somehow concussed.

But Camila assures him she’s not, not explaining how she knows as she examines her ankle. Camila touches it just enough to break Willow’s trance and she lets out a small wince of pain. It’s not broken, just sprained but she shouldn’t walk on it for a few days.

Hunter says without hesitation that he’ll happily carry her should she need to go anywhere and Willow definitely does not hate the sound of that. Camila says it’s not necessary and Willow nearly tells her to shut up, but she would never talk to her that way. She says she has some crutches in the basement somewhere and Hunter makes it his mission to find them. He carries her down to the basement and places her gently on the couch as he looks through all the old things.

Willow just watches him, trying to catch her breath. She didn’t realize that by trying to moderate her feelings that they would burst to the surface with such force eventually. She thought she had a handle on them but every so often Hunter did something that was just so Hunter that she just stopped working. Usually she could excuse herself to another room to sort through them and compose herself when she was locked safety in his arms and she forgot the ground even existed. And now he was playing nurse, telling her all the thing he could help her with so she would heal as soon as possible. He wasn’t even trying to be charming, she can’t imagine how she would function if he was aware of what he was doing.

He brings out the crutches and adjusts them to her height without her even having to say anything. He tells her how they can add something to the bottom so they won’t get stuck in the mud when she gardens and how he was sure Camila wouldn’t mind Clover flying her up the stairs in the meantime and if not he could carry her upstairs no problem.

He talks so much when he worries, she thinks. His mind moves so quickly when he needs to plan something, when he’s certain about what to do. When he cares.

And yes they have the crutches and yes she has Clover and magic and infinite ways to work around her barely present injury but when Hunter insists on carrying her she turns to mush and just doesn’t have it in her to object. And he doesn’t always put her down right away and she doesn’t remind him to. Like they’ll come downstairs for breakfast and he’ll walk around the house before bringing her to the kitchen. It becomes a harmless habit. Gus joins in eventually, jumping on Hunter’s back and Willow is only more enamored. But Hunter sees it another way to help his friends and being helpful makes him focused and when he’s focused Willow’s heart beats like a beehive.

And it’s just a sprain so the need disappears quickly since Willow heals within a week. But it confirms what she had been contemplating for awhile now. She was so gone for this loser.

[theultimatekamehamehavoc]

More children! Sakura: She was definitely the hardest design for me to do but my gosh was it rewarding as hell. I wanted to ensure she looked strong but also cute and all. Thus, I gave her a little flower broach/pin of some sorts on her chest and a little red butterfly clip. Who knows. Maybe it's a gift that she got. Also, I did try with the muscles. I am not the best at those but I tried! Also contemplated giving her pants so she could fight better but opted for the skirt so she still has some ties to her original design. Will def draw her in a full gi sometime though. Might also give her a design with bandages on her arms too. Chihiro: I used a bit of one of Chihiro's beta designs as a base since it was giving some cute energy. Gave Chihiro some headphones too since the outfit wasn't giving the programmer energy. Not that Chihiro's base outfit gives programmer. Still though, wanted to get some of that in there. Also, I have no idea why but I'm looking at little Chihiro now and imagining them making a ton of cool as hell games on Scratch. Not cus they can't use other programs but that they're just that good. Aoi: Was both easy and hard to do for her. Her base outfit already works well for an itty bitty version and I wanted to ensure that I wasn't just drawing the characters but shrunk down. Thus, I gave Aoi longer hair. The hair at the top didn't change though since it's iconic and adds to her silhouette more. No clue how I'd reinvent that. For the colors, I will be real. I kinda just picked whatever to make it look similar but not the same as her original counter part. Thus, hoodie on the waist! Made her shoes similar though cus I felt they fit with that sorta energy of a little girl who's just throwing on some clothes before running off to do some stuff and practice her swimming. Added the acne too cus preteen. Mondo: This little biker boy. Yeah. I had the same issues I had with Aoi which was that his base design was already pretty good material for a younger revamp. However, I needed to give him more stuff to work with. Thus, purple leather coat with the sleaves ripped off! He did not do it for fashion. He probably says that he got into a really gnarly fight when he just got a bit too rowdy with a giant ass dog or something. I also gave him like, one of those twigs or like, a toothpick in his mouth. Cus why not. It looked cool and gave him more. His hair stayed the same too cus he could have gotten tips and tricks how to style it from his older brother, Daiya. Like, Mondo is kinda mirroring him in a sense cus of how much he admires him. Finally, once again with the middle schooler acne. Kiyotaka: I feel Taka has that energy of his younger selves looking like shrunk down versions of his older self. He just has that vibe to him. Thus, I just did some small adjustments for him. Have him a little star on him cus he just gives MAJOR energy of that one kid who excelled and always got like "the star of the day" or something like that. Gave him little boy shorts too cus why not! They look cute! And yes. I gave Taka the Spongebob socks. He does not know that they are the socks of the Sponge. Also, the boots stayed cus why not! Maybe he also wants to look taller cus maybe's a bit on he shorter size. Who knows! I don't! One last thing is that I gave Taka like a missing tooth/tooth gap in his bottom row. I just felt it really added to the whole design. Hope the designs are good here too! As I mentioned on Aoi's section, wanted to ensure that they weren't just a carbon copy of themselves since no one is once they get older. So, yeah. This means I will give them all some horrible fashion choses too or just stuff they could look back on and be like "ew! so tacky". Think that'd be pretty fun!

[pierdutaintimpsispatiu]

Dragobete

A romanian valentine's day.

The son of Baba Dochia (another folkloric being in our mythology), Dragobete is the patron of love and bringer of spring. His coming is awaited with flowers. His calling is to kiss the girls on this day, 24th of February, because the girl who isn't kissed shall remain single the whole year.

Dragobete, or Dragomir by his first name, is a young god, beautiful, a lover by nature, strong and charming, bringing joy in people's lives. Because no one knew who his father was, they assumed it was the Spirit of the Mountain.

When our loverboy was born, four ursitoare (fairies godmother) came to offer him the most generous of gifts. The first one, Spring, blessed him with love. Summer, the second one, gave him the sweetness of ripe fruits. The third one, Autumn, gave him a flute, to bring joy to those who hear him play, while Winter, the fourth fairy, offered him a white coat, adorned with diamonds and a red belt, sewn with pearls. The coat was designed to grow with the boy, never getting dirty, no matter how much he wore it. Because of these gifts, Dragobete managed to make every girl he wished, fall for him.

As he grew, he took the path of mountains, hearing the call of his parents, to learn all about plants and animals. Which is why, in the folk belief, Dragobete is also the protector of birds and herbs.

Another belief have him turned by his mother into a medicinal plant called Năvalnic. The plant is used in love spells and treating wounds.

to celebrate Dragobete, the girls go in forests and plains in search of the first flowers of spring and hang them on icons to be young and beautiful and keep away all jealousy and bad thoughts sent their way. dried flowers are thrown in a running water on Sânziene day, so all the evils will go away with them. if they found ripe berries, they'd take the flowers and make bouquetes that were put in their water, as they washed their hair while saying „Flori de fragă Din luna lui Faur La toată lumea să fiu dragă Urâciunile să le desparți”. (Berry flowers of the month of February, make it so that everyone likes me, cast away all ugly thoughts and wills from me)

the boys would pick ghiocei (snowdrops) and bring them home, because an old saying goes "as many flowers in your house, as many chickens in your farm"

those who are single on Dragobete, or don't manage to kiss, or the very least touch, a person of romantic interest, are doomed to another year without finding their soulmate.

those who have a partner and spent even a second with them on this day, will be together the whole year.

if you dream of your crush the night of Dragobete, speak to them and their heart shall open for you.

anyone who sees a pupăză (hoopoe) on this day, will be lucky all year long and if you see a pair of birds, you'll always be loved (birds are known to chose a mate this time of year).

early in the morning, young women would also search for remaining snow, melt it and wash their hair and face with it, to have clean skin and healthy hair.

another belief says that if you go on a date on Dragobete and don't kiss, you and that person will break up

as a boy you have to drink a special tea, made with sour cherry brenches to have a chance at love the year that's to come.

if men are mean or fight with women on this day, their spring will be filled with bad luck and they'll have an awful year

everyone should be happy on 24th of February, to honor Dragobete and convince him to bring them a lover

in some places, girls would put busuioc (basil) under their pillows to dream the face of their soulmate

in other parts, girls would run, chased by boys. if a girl was caught and she liked the boy, they'd kiss as everyone watched, which symbolized their wedding in the fall.

and some other places sent their girls – who haven't eaten or washed that morning – to pick popelnic (a type of wood) and wash their hair with it, leaving behind as an offering to the god, bread with salt and eggs. in the meantime, the guys dance in horă (a type of dance where people hold each other in a circle and, well, dance) and pick ghiocei (snowdrop)

Dragobete is, as you might have noticed, quite a pretentious god. on top of it all, he doesn't like you killing or sacrificing animals on his day. nor does he want you to sow, wash anything, iron clothes or work the field. the only work he allows is a deep cleaning of the house

Happy Dragobete, love is in the air!

[guppybibi]

whats goody gang i have a really stupid request um. imagine akito x reader except its Wow like that really bad 3racha song (I've listened to it too much its so bad yet so good) minus all the innapropriate-ish lines

this would be so silly like imagine akito pulling up to reader like "you could be fiona today, I'll be shrek 🤫🧏‍♀️" and the worst part is that they still fall for that loser 🤢

maybe reader is a bit older than akito too like in wow so akito can quote the iconic "jeogiyo noona hokshi namjachingu isseoyo" (but maybe the Japanese version of that.)

ty i love your writing 😚😚😚

𖦹 pairing: Akito Shinonome x implied fem!reader

𖦹 content: In which Akito tries out some pick up lines but he has L rizz ffrfr

𖦹 notes: HAUHAUAHUA thank uu for this !! i believe in no game Akito, we all say in unison. This was actually really hard to write. I had to put my phone down multiple times. also not proofread btw, really busy..

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*

The two words, ‘Wow, damn..’ were the only ones that managed to slip out of Akito’s mouth as he saw you step into their home, following his sister like you were some obedient little duckling. It wasn't your first time here actually, you've been hanging out with Ena for quite a while now. It's just Akito’s first time actually stepping outside his room, but he didn't know you looked this jaw dropping and show stopping! If he was aware of it, he’d have gotten to you a lot earlier.

“Akito! What are you staring at?!” Ena asks, a skeptical glare towards her brother. “If you're going to take a shine to my friend then at least fix yourself up!” She scolds with a condescending tone, hey–she wasn't doing this to be mean. Her brother really needs help with his love life ya know, he needs as much tips as possible..The ginger looks down at himself, glaring right back at his older sister. Was this some kind of sibling telepathy she didn't know of? The clothes he had on were ferocious, Ena’s eyes felt like they were burning. A random band t-shirt paired with some plaid pajama pants, the brown hair girl tried her damn hardest not to gag right now. But one blink and you’re already right beside Akito, towering over him.

He gulps, his face growing red like he's burning at stake. You seemed a lot prettier up close, but his heart couldn't handle this! It felt like he could die of cardiac arrest at any moment, he still had songs to perform with his group. Not yet, don't die! “You okay? My name’s Y/N, it's nice to meet you!” You stick out your hand, anticipating a shake back. Your hands look so soft and delicate, what if he scratched them with his rough and calloused fingers? Still it's rude to just..keep you hanging there. He takes your hand into his, despite being shorter than you his hand was a lot bigger..He didn't wanna move right now, feeling like he was in some kind of romance manga.

“A-Akito, the name’s Akito..” He stutters, cursing himself internally as he scrambles his words. “I know, Ena told me. Plus I see you ‘round campus anyway.” You smile at him, making him all flustered. Feeling like a flutter of butterflies were just released into his stomach, if it was possible; he would've had heart eyes right now.

And that's how all of this shenanigans started, it started off small, until it started snowballing. First, it began with Akito simply tagging along with you and Ena’s hangouts. Whether it be at the mall or going for a jog on Scramble Crossing. The boy took note of a lot of things about you, the way you’d go over to a bush and pluck a flower (If it was allowed, you’d do no such crime) to sniff it, knowing fully well you were allergic to pollen. If it wasn’t you doing it he’d probably think it was stupid but it’s you so you’re excused. Akito is cursed with a resting bitch face but not when you're around, even if he has a bad day you always manage to make him at least smirk.

But soon it turned not so simple, well to be honest nothing really changed. Aside from the fact you started to actually like him. It felt weird, developing a crush on your friend's younger immature brother. But there was something about him, was it the way he remembers and takes down everything about you? No, it wasn't that, even Ena could do that. Was it his appearance, maybe his ginger hair that was so different from his sister? It wasn't that either, so what was it? As embarrassing it was to say, it was his pickup lines..

It was stupid to begin with, the way he’d end every cheesy line with a wink caught your eye. It got progressively stupider day by day, the most memorable one so far being this. “Hey Y/N, do ya think ya could make me some coffee as sweet as ya?” He asks, leaning over the counter with his hand on his chin. He bats his eyelashes dreamily, an attempt to do it at least, he looked like something got stuck in his eye. “Sure!” You reply, grabbing a cup as he thanks you. He does choke on his own spit when he sees you pour in a bunch of sugar, fortunately only filling the cup halfway. He gulps, praying for his health. Yep, he was still going to drink this. You went out of your way to make this for him, there's no way he’d miss drinking some coffee made by you specifically. “Thanks Y/N.” His voice cracks as he grabs the glass of coffee from you, mentally doing the sign of the cross.

He puked in the bathroom when you left, Ena saw him but he managed to keep her mouth shut by bribing her. Yeah..that week of chores won't be fun. But if that's what it took to perhaps catch your heart into the net he was holding out to you, he’d do it.

Oh but the pickup lines just get stranger and stranger, yet this one takes the cake..The three of you were having a movie night, and you chose to watch Shrek because..why not honestly? It was all going fine, everyone was all comfy and cozy while Ena went to the kitchen to mix up some popcorn. It was just you and Akito there, the movie paused at the intro since Ena would start yelling at you both if you started without her. Ena planned to sit in the middle of the couch, with you on her left and Akito on her right. Simple enough instructions but Akito schooches over to you, his smirk saying something along the lines of “I got an idea..”.

“Y/N..would you be Fiona to my Shrek?” The worst part about it is how serious he seemed to be, no actually–you laughing at it had to be the worse part. It caught you by surprise, it came out of nowhere like a wild animal lurking in the bushes. “Yes! I’ll be your Fiona!” You snort, trying not to pee yourself as the cringe line echoed through the valleys of your mind. Akito was laughing now too, not expecting it to actually work.

What the two of you didn't know though, was that Ena was watching the both of you silently. Trying to stifle giggles, ashamed that she found something as cheesy as that funny.

It's stupid, but you two make it work anyways.

[echoandreflections]

Behind The Scenes

Chapter 2:

One day before the start of filming, Los Angeles

-"So what happened to your hair exactly?" Jason asked, an arm thrown over Piper's shoulders as he leaned back in his seat, raising an eyebrow as a waiter put down their drinks on the table.

Annabeth looked up from her phone, eyes darting between Hazel and the couple sitting in front of her in the booth .

Unconsciously, she touched her newly cut bangs. The length slightly longer than she would've wished for.

-"You mean the bangs or..?" Annabeth cut herself off, realizing how dumb her question was. Of course he meant the bangs. "Well," she sighed, "I am mourning the loss of my vacation time." She answered as if it was the most reasonable of things and wouldn't be the talk of the internet for the next few days.

Honestly she didn't get it. Why was a simple haircut such a big deal to everyone around her? Sure, the internet would probably psycho-analyze this and come up with a crazy conclusion as always.

Last time she took out her hair from it's usual Iconic curly ponytail before a red carpet appearance, she had gossip website saying this was her way of admitting she was pregnant to the whole world (She doesn't even know how something this small led them to this conclusion and she has long given up on trying to understand).

Knowing that, Annabeth still decided to give herself bangs. A decision she doesn't regret because if she was honest for a second, these bangs looked damn good on her. The way it framed her face and made her eyes look bigger was definitely something she wasn't complaining about. The only thing is that she wished she thought of her hair before doing this. Because as it turns out, curly hair stays curly whether it's short or long. What she expected to be straight bangs (yes, she thought cutting her hair would change it's texture. Move on. The wine had fed into her delusion) turned out as curly as the rest of her hair. It made her look softer than she expected, not that she was complaining. It very much gave her a country girl look. Which gave her ideas for the concept of her next album. She had been on break for less than a month and she was already thinking of work again. She really needed to stop, she chastise herself in her head.

Hazel coughed next to her, catching everyone's attention.

-"Anyway, Annabeth?" Hazel turned toward the blond girl, her dark curly hair kept away from her face thanks to a white headband with flowers Piper had embroidered for her the year prior. A thank you gift for having let her and Jason have their wedding reception at her winery.

Piper had tried to pay her, she really had. But all Hazel accepted in the end was the handmade gift, finding it had way more value than any other things she had been offered.

Well she had also gladly accepted the horse Jason's family had gifted her, but that was beside the question. "Did Grover tell you who else would be on the show or is he still keeping it a secret?"

Grover, as it turned out, was pretty secretive about the whole making of "Baking with Olympus''s new season. She remembered seeing her friend pace around the room in stress a few days after accepting the offer to become the new director in chief of the franchise. The poor man was so stressed he could barely keep anything down. It was only after Annabeth had volunteered to be in the next season that he started relaxing slightly. "One less celebrity to find" he had said after she signed the contract.

At the time, nothing was really definitive. She hadn't even gotten the filming schedule before signing the contract. In other circumstances, she would've never signed something so sketchy, but this was Grover she was talking about. She trusted him with her life and if there was a way to take a bit of worry off of him, she had no choice but to do it.

But now, two years later, all she knew about the show was the filming schedule. She had no idea which other celebrity she would be co-starring with, nor which baker she would be assigned as teammates. Leaving her with nothing to do but wait patiently for the first day of filming. Usually, she would have done a chemistry reading with the rest of the cast ( or whatever they do on tv shows), to make sure everyone got along well. But this was a reality show first and foremost. Disagreements and conflicts were both wanted and needed to make it interesting.

Annabeth shook her head, glancing at Hazel "I still have no idea. I think he's scared someone might accidentally leak the cast before the premier. I don't see why else he would be so secretive about all of this." She answered with a shrug.

Piper pursed her lips, leaning forward, away from the arms of her husband. He pouted slightly, but kept his mouth shut.

-"Do you think it's because of what happened to 'Hearbeat' last year?" She asked, a suspicious glint in her eyes.

Annabeth thought about it for a second.

Heartbeat had been last year's most anticipated reality show. The whole premise had been that celebrities from all over North America would be paired with each other and put on blind dates while their heart rates were monitored. The goal was to make the other participant's heartbeat spike.

Unfortunately for everyone working on the show, the identities of multiple celebrities working on the project had been leaked before the official release date, leading to the discovery of many affairs happening in the behind the scenes of the show. It was no surprise the show was canceled before it was even able to air its first episode.

-"I don't think so," Hazel disagreed. "Heartbeat was doomed from the start with that concept. Grover is hosting a baking show, not a dating show."

-"And Baking with Olympus has consistently made numbers with each of its seasons. I think it's the only baking show everyone has watched at least once. I doubt leaking the identities of the cast would harm the show in any way." Jason added, tugging back his wife at his side by her waist. A smile tugged at Piper's lips as she laid back into her husband's shoulder.

Annabeth and Hazel couldn't help but smile too at the view of the happy couple. It was thanks to them that they had met after all.

Jason's family owned the ranch next to Hazel's winery. Meaning he would often come visit the winery on days he needed to walk off his worries. Hazel never really minded, especially since it meant he always let her pet the horses in exchange.

It was during their mutual agreement that while visiting, Annabeth saw Hazel's hot neighbor for the first time. She was surprised to see how much he fit the description of Piper's ideal man, a description she had discovered after hearing her drunk friend rave about her ideal other half.

It took less than five words to convince Hazel to help her set up Piper with her neighbor.

The next day, Annabeth was careful to lose Piper where vines were the tallest after catching a glimpse of Jason going on a walk. A very lost Piper was found by him and the rest was history.

Hazel and Annabeth had kept the secret of their secret arrangement until their speech at the couple's wedding years later.

"All I know right now is that filming starts tomorrow." Annabeth admitted, "If I am not wrong, it's also tomorrow that the cast will be revealed to the public." She finished.

-"On the same day?" The couple asked in unison.

-"Looks like everyone will discover who's casted in this at the same time" Piper mused.

"I just hope nothing is gonna go wrong," Hazel said solemnly.

Annabeth could only agree.

[weirdplutoprince]

Who is your favorite female lead in shojo isekai? your favorite male lead? what kinds of plots are your favorites? :3

I really like Penelope Eckhart because she's so bitter and resentful towards everything. Like, non ironically every scene is so cathartic and intense, I love watching her go. (Got kinda long so the rest is under read more)

I kinda liked the girl from 'They Say I Was Born a King's Daughter' because she was so good at manipulating the men around her, but it got kind of annoying once I realized they were never going to acknowledge the inherent imbalance and resentment that should permeate basically all her relationships - THE WAY PENELOPE'S DO.

The girl from 'The Lady and the Beast' was also fun because she was so non chalant and aloof about everything. I also like the red hair. Literally the story was awesome until the male lead gained the ability to talk again. Sad.

I love Hilise from Untouchable Lady. <3 I love the pink-red hair gradient. I love the flower powers. I love the aloofness and complete disregard for everything, she's so cool. I love the trauma too. Very awesome.

As for Male leads, uuuuhhhhhh. I usually don't care because they're just there to look pretty and not be annoying 😭

Sable from Not Sew-Wicked-Stepmother is pretty nice. Only isekai man to have a genuinely reasonable and forgivable reason to be a shitty husband and father. I forgive him. He's great.

Guy from Villainess Reverses the Hourglass is Fine, I Guess.

Honorable mention to Claude Who Made me a Princess IN A PLATONIC SENSE, because I think he's the most iconic isekai father to have ever lived.

Duchess' 50 tea recipes guy is acceptable as well.

 Is it a fortune or is it a woe? guy is nice enough. They're just mid, man, I don't have much to say about male leads if they don't suck lol.

As for plots I really like the 'fake __' kind. Like, surviving as the fake daughter, fake saintess, fake princess - whatever. I really enjoy those. I also like when villainess already have a bad rep once they switch, so they just go around fucking shit up and accidentaly save their reputation.

Thank you for this ask, that was fun!! <3

[hernakedmuse]

Liz and Billy

II. Should I Stay or Should I Go

Warnings: Allusions and tales of infidelity. Mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: it will get more exciting after this chapter.

-----------------------------------------------------

♡♡Colson POV♡♡

Six days and twelve hours.

I didn't text her, but I was keeping up with every single Instagram post and every single snap story.

And we haven't spoken since the day she came over to fix my life and left it as soon as. Well that's not true, she texted me a verse from Goodnight Moon on the night of.

Goodnight stars

Goodnight air

Goodnight noises everywhere 🌟 🌃 

I've been reading that text for six days, once every hour.

She's strange, she never puts on a show but the way she talks you think she does. Always speaking with that Mid-Atlantic accent and in quotes, Megan says she has always been like that.

It's like she walked right off an old movie and into the 21st century, so fucking beautiful. About 5'3 of pure tease. Dewy and rosy, olive skin, a perfect China bob that frames her perfectly round, moon face. Full, wide lips below a cute pug nose that I might have fantasized biting. And those fucking eyes, those eyes are just as famous as her hair and her ass, her thick, juicy, Bonita applebaum ass. When I first saw Minka Farrah on TV, it was a really good horror film, Possession, she starred in it and she was mostly naked. They never showed between her legs and now after what Megan told me, I know why. But the world saw plenty else, her perfect dump truck ass, all hers and you can tell the difference between silicone and real. 

So thick with wide hips and shapely thighs, she's soft and curvy with an hourglass dip in her waist and a soft stomach, and perky soft looking very small tits. Probably double As, when she pushes them together with her arms they knock down a letter, and the nipples are huge, puffy, and so pink they were almost cherry-tipped. I've written a lot of songs I didn't dare release about them. Her iconic ass drew me in like her iconic eyes, a perfect shade of violet, a mixture of indigo-purplish almost blue hues. They always look like they're flirting, with very thick, long black eyelashes and a hooded appearance.

Have I always lusted after Minka? Yes. Do I have a crush on her ever since she fed me and listened to me? No, she's just a friend I happen to find hot. I think Dom's hot and we only fucked around like once.

They always say sex dreams almost never have anything to do with sex, there has to be a psychological meaning behind me dreaming about stuffing her hole with my cock, watching her ass red from hand bouncing all juicy on my thighs as she looks over her shoulders at me with her violet-blue eyes.

"Yeah, it means you wanna psychologically fuck her rectum up." That's what Pete said to me when I told him.

I missed her though.

I missed how she heard that I was toxic to Megan and yet she still wanted to make sure I was okay, I missed how the short amount of time she was in my house made it feel like a real home and not a party pad. I missed that she made me breakfast and talked to me. She's so easy to talk to, and doesn't want anything from me. 

I found out where she was, I had to see her. She was filming a movie down at the studio. When I pulled up she was walking out looking fucking unreal, in a pink skirt with green stems and flowers that looked like a sarong, easily I could make out the shape of her thick thighs, her little cherries were hidden beneath a cropped green vest with gold animal buttons, and to complete her style were creamy caramel and white cowgirl boots. She was laughing at something a good looking, edgy, tall blonde guy was saying, and I wanted to knock his teeth out. I recognized him as Henry Creel from Stranger Things.

I rolled down the window of my F-Pace and her stunning lavender-blue eyes finally acknowledged me. She looks so happy to see me, take that Stranger dick. This girl's smile is out of this world, her plump pink lips spread to reveal her pretty and slightly crooked teeth that strangely turn me on, especially that gap between her two front teeth. Such a cutie.

"Colson!" She ran over to me and I got out of the car, she wrapped her arms around my waist and I pulled her close and kissed her head. She smells amazing, woody, earthy, and floral like a fairy.  

"Hey Mink." 

She stood on her toes with a little bounce  to reach up and ruffle my carnation pink hair. I briefly closed my eyes at the feeling of her fingers in my hair. "Needs a touch up, it's fading." She commented with a hum.

"Oh you're a hairdresser now?"  I teased.

She giggled, all teeth and crinkled eyes as her nose scrunched up like a bunny.  "Well my cousin Alicja is. She teaches me everything."

"Not your stylist?"

"I don't have one." She said simply and kissed my cheek. "Darling, are you up for introductions or shall I give my apologies to Jamie?" She gestured to the tattooed string bean, like I had room to talk.

"I just wanna hang out with you, not trying to be a dick but I mean…it's been six days."

She laughed softly and playfully pinched my cheek. "He's been counting, how cute." 

I rolled my eyes and she gave my hand a gentle squeeze with her soft one. "I'll tell him you're not feeling well, give me a second, gorgeous." With that term of endearment She ran back over to the actor.

Jamie looked disappointed, but only to see Minka go. I bit back a frown when she gave him a peck on the lips and a chest-pressed hug before running back to me.

I honestly don't know why I did it, but I wrapped my arm around her and opened the car door before practically placing her in.

"Let's go to your place and have lunch, I'll make it." She suggested. "But we should stop for candy and wine." She exclaimed. 

I laughed "Sounds chill, but maybe we should Doordash it, I'm not prepared to get ambushed."

"That's true, oh but you know what's better than Doordash? Kai-dash, I'll text Kaiden. What teeth rotting goodies do you want?"

"You have good taste, you decide."

Megan was at the spa, she usually spends a while there before going to get a botox touch up. Casie is at her mom's for a couple days, so it was going to be just the two of us.

"Kaiden will be here with our snacks in twenty minutes." She said as she followed me inside. 

"Does he want to chill with us?" I hoped that would be a big fat no, kinda just need some Minka time, she's therapeutic. 

"No, he has plans, I promised not to bother him for the rest of the day.'' She smiled. "May I take off my shoes?"

"Yeah of course, get comfortable. "

I really shouldn't have said that, especially with my kinks. Because when she sat down and removed her boots and everything, the most beautiful well pedicured pair of feet whorishly revealed themselves to me. They looked soft and smooth, painted a dusky rose color and trimmed to perfection.  I wanted to suck on each toe, I needed them rubbing all nine inches of me.

She took my staring the wrong way though and looked sheepish. "What's wrong with my feet?"

"Shit, nothing, the color is really nice." Good cover, Col.

She relaxed and gave me that pretty smile of hers. "Oh, thank you. It's teak rose by Revlon. Maybe I'll paint yours later, okay?"

She's so sweet, and has no idea that I'm imagining ungodly situations with those model pair of feet.

"I'll get started on making lunch." 

I got up to follow her. "Need any help?"

"No thank you, you can relax, let me take care of you."

"I'll just chill in there with you." So I've been in a clingy mood lately.

She didn't seem to mind though. "Sounds perfect, you can choose the music. "

I told Alexa to play the Appetite for Destruction album and Minka lit up like a Christmas tree. "This is one of my favorite albums!"

I felt myself grinning. "Yeah? That's fire, I love that 80s rock."

"Me too, Duff McKagan is one of the best bassists of all time, definitely giving props to his punk roots." Could she be any more perfect? When girls talk music, it's so hot.

 "You a punk fan?"

She nodded enthusiastically.  "The Clash and Theatre of Hate are my favorite bands."

"The Clash is fire, Theatre of Hate I never heard of."

"I need to show you them, they're from England early 80s. Lead singer was romantically involved with Boy George, basically all of Culture Club's music is about Kirk Brandon, the lead singer of Theatre of Hate."

"Holy shit, you know a lot. Why didn't you go into music?'

"I'm a homebody, I don't know if I could tour."

I nodded. "Makes sense, I'm a homebody myself and it can get a lot."

"Whenever you're feeling overwhelmed on tour, call me up Colson, I mean it." She said it with such tenderness, I felt that shit in my throat. 

'`You didn't mention you aren't musically talented, are you?' I decided it was safe to change the subject.

As she was cooking she briefly looked at me with a secret smile. "I'll never tell."

"You and your secrets. "

"They're all I have to myself. And clearly that's not even true anymore." She was referring to the recent apparent scandal.  It was fucked up to call it that. Makes me mad all of the ignorant assholes on social media, it got so bad she had to take down her socials.

I felt an overwhelming urge of protectiveness over the sweet little actress, and went over pulling her in a bear hug. She hugged my arm and kissed it. Her smell and how she feels in her arms was too good, too comfortable, I didn't want to let her go, didn't want her to leave, just wanted to shield her from the world.. 

We stayed like that for a while, and she went back to making lunch. I checked my phone when the doorbell rang, and saw Kaiden. So I got the snacks from him before he ran off to a hookup judging by that smile.

Looking in the bag I saw cherry peel able twizzlers, a box of See's Candies chocolates, Milano's, Godiva chocolate covered strawberries, Haribo rainbow worms and happy cherries, Albanese gummy bears, sour patch kids, Ferrero rocher bars, some Häagen-Dazs, 

"Lunch is ready."

"Smells so good, what did you make?"

"Bang bang tacos and shrimp quesadillas."

"Tryna fatten me up? I know I'm skin bones." I laughed. "I'm shocked you're not married by now."

"28 is much too young to get married! And as much as I admire Elizabeth Taylor, I don't want seven names, I want my forever."

For some reason, my imagination went wild, thinking of this as an everyday occurrence.  My arm around her curvy little build, as she's cooking over the stove, laughing at something I said. 

It's not cool, I'm engaged to Megan. Even if I'm starting to feel like somebody else gets me.

"But you've been asked."

She looked up at me with her lavender-blue gaze as she put my plate together. "What would you like to drink?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

She took out sparkling lime waters from the fridge and sliced up some lime to put it in. 

"Who was it?" I didn't mean to ask s aggressively, but I had to know who had tried their hand at claiming her and failed.

"Which time?''

Why am I not surprised? "Go in order." I put everything on a tray and I took it to carry to the living room. 

"At sixteen–".

"Sixteen!?"

She laughed at my frown. "Sixteen, I wasn't even seeing anyone, I was a shy little virgin who was newly starting acknowledging myself as Minka. My best friend at the time, her dad, offered to leave his wife for me, marry me, and pay for my surgery."

I was really pissed off that some grown ass man tried to take advantage of a kid like that. Especially Minka.

I sat down and she joined me. "What a creep, I'm sorry you had to go through that."

She shrugged. "It doesn't phase me, I just honestly thought about how depressed I'd be if I left my family. I never considered it. Then at eighteen it was my boyfriend, Taylor. He was a trans man, related to some beatniks who did really well for themselves, he himself was a punk which was funny considering he grew up with three houses. He owned five motorcycles and four sportscars. He was forty two."

I got my stash out and started rolling.

"I cannot imagine you with some wannabe bad boy. " I laughed. "You always with an old man?"

"You're quite right, I much prefer the real ones. But yes I love older men, they're obsessive and that suits me. But I said no to Taylor, but not at first." She grinned like the cat that got the cream.

"Wait, you were engaged!?"

She laughed and took a bite out of a taco the same time I did. Damn if I could choose what to eat everyday. 

"For seven days, in London. He had a flat there in SoHo. Seven wonderful days, he proposed to me with Elizabeth Taylor's ring from Richard Burton that he bought off of Kathy Ireland."

"You and your old people."

She playfully slapped my arm. "Hush, I'm storytelling!" He giggled. "I can stop anytime."

"No" I touched her knee. "Don't. So, he proposed with your idol's ring…

She nodded.  "Seven days we were engaged."

"What happened to Prince charming?"

"I missed my family, I cried calling my mother. I was sobbing in Polish on the phone, you'd think I was kidnapped. Poor Taylor… I have such an attachment to my family. Even now, i bought Jerzy, my brother , a house two doors down from mine and Petra lives there with him, my sister."

"Was Taylor your last proposal?"

She laughed. "Absolutely not, the year before I became big I met Jamie when we were visiting my mother's sister, Aunt Ewa, in London. It was 2014. We stayed in the summer. I met Jamie at a show. His band didn't know it, his band is a side but they're so good. He saw me in the first row and took me backstage. We spent every day together, mamusia loved him." She looked a little conflicted at the moment. "The youngest man I've been with and he's seven years older. Well, it was my happiest relationship. We had so much in common, and I could handle his alcohol problems. " I took a drag of my joint feeling of jealousy and anger course through me. "Even when it got bad, even when he hid me from everyone. Only my siblings knew we were together. My parents thought we were just best friends, and he got me a role in a movie…he wanted me to be a star." I offered her a smoke but she shook her head and continued. "When the summer was ending he didn't want to lose me. He proposed to me in secret, even though he was already engaged to Lily Collins. I knew that but I was too caught up to care, I get so romantic sometimes. He proposed to me with an amethyst and diamond engagement ring, for my eyes and my birthstone. I wore it on a necklace and hid it. He got me a spot in the West End theater and told my parents, so I could stay with him." She smiled but it didn't meet her beautiful eyes. "And it worked, and  he put me up in a SoHo townhouse he bought for me for us, away from Lily and his family. I was trained in the west end and quickly got put in films. He was my manager…my best friend, and my fiancé. It was…well it became a little much and after two years I permanently moved back to America.  But he didn't allow anyone to try and seduce me or woo me. We were still engaged. Up until three years ago." She got up and headed to the kitchen, I followed as I felt so much rage. 

She found a bottle of wine and poured a glass. 

"Hold the fuck up, is that the same Stranger Things dick I saw you with today?!"

She took a big gulp and nodded "We're friends now, we've been good for a year, we're good now. I just…going through the memories again–"

"Minka, what the fuck– I don't want you to–"

"You have no right, don't start talking mad now darling. " She set the glass down and walked her hip swaying walk into the living room. 

"Mink, fuck. I don't give a fuck what you say– fuck, he still wants you! This sounds toxic–

"Colson, darling. Let's not get hysterical." She climbed into my lap and cupped my face, I couldn't breathe. My nostrils flared like a bull from rage and sexual frustration, and all I can smell is her. I think about Jamie acting like it's all fine but it isn't and I want to beat his face in. He thinks he still has her. The thought of him touching her having her…I want to kill him, why am I feeling like this?

I pulled her close, gripping her hips so tight. I noticed her pretty face wince, her skirt was bunched up around her shapely thighs. I pressed my forehead against hers. 

"Take a deep breath now love, in…" I inhaled like she said. "And exhale…" I let go and closed my eyes, she guided my head to her chest and she stroked my hair, it felt so nice. 

"Now button, it's dirt under a rug isn't it? Nothing to upset your stomach over, hmm? Now Jamie knows we are just friends. I have made it clear, we have been through too much to never say anything to one another again." She kissed my head and I hugged her closer. "Let's watch your favorites, okay monkey?"

I laughed gently. "I'm not a baby you know."

"Of course you are! You're my baby." She was teasing but I didn't want her to. The thought was nice. 

[yonpote]

this is my keep or yeet livepost w my onions on whether phil should keep or yeet

THE GHOST SHIRT yeet bc its haunted by... another youtuber who's worn it. BUT dan pointing out that its small on him just makes it hotter cuz like... tight fitting clothes on this man is,..... hoo boy

aladdin for me is a yeet but im not the biggest aladdin fan personally? so i think keep for phil is fine and BLACK SHIRTS ON PHIL UGHHHHHH LOVe

red nasa shirt 😭😭😭 i would keep it for sentiment tbh ;;

shoe shirt? its so random. yeet. WAIT IT HAS TEXTURES NVM KEEP

oh god wtf is that{?!? OH HE DYED THE ICONIC SHIRT LMAOO yeah this is a yeet but i relate so much to trying to dye something a cool color but just making it look kinda dirty 😭

OH HELL YEAH RIPPED GREEN HOODIE YUMMALICIOUS HUBBA HUBBA comfy hoodie is always a keep

oh brother not another opera spon... use firefox everyone, its got tab containers too and if you use ublock origin u can put in a specific list thing for youtube ads so you dont get the adblock block thing look it up on reddit its so good, if u need chrome for mandatory work thing sure but firefox doesnt harvest everything you type so

NGJFNFJ THE MOLDY GREEN DYED SHIRTS ARE SO BAD BUDDY THE SUSHI SHIRT WOULDA BEEN CUTE OTHERWISE

a millennial gay can never have too many flowery button ups imo, keep

corgi!!!! cute!!

crusty bottom and clean top..... dont make me say it.........

OOO keep the splatter print shirt its very lesbian!!!

gatorland shirt i like a good comfy tourist shirt

marvel shirt YEEEEET

omg the ancient illness hoodie..... THE ONE THAT DAN WORE WHILE WEARING A COLANDER ON HIS HEAD KEEP IT HAS LORE!!!!!!

uhhhh random gray rectangle shirt.. yeet unless he wants to do the short sleeve over long sleeve e boy look

MESH SAKURA SHIRT KEEP FOREVER HOT AND MATCHES DANS SAKURA SHIRT LOL. TJE NIP WINDOW????? CHEST HAIR!?!?!?!?

ooo semi-varsity jacket... i think if it was baggier on him and it looked more like the embroidered ones ppl wear in japan it would be a keep but for me its yeet

MOON SHIRT!!!! keep for cutie pie reasons. PHIL IS NOT APPROPRIATING LESBIAN WITCH DAN HE LITERALLY IS ONE HES A LESBIAN PSYCHIC "i could be a lesbian witch!"

nasa jacket keeeeep

stranger yeet.

types of frogs KEEP. ITS SO RAINFOREST CAFE FROG SHIRT VIBE AS WELL AS DAN'S SPACE CENTER CAT SHIRT

beetle... i voted yeet on ig

friends t shirt i would say keep for phil cuz listen. millennials need their sitcom attachment and i love a big comfy shirt. also oops edit flub? they didnt say whether it was kept or yet o7

minesweeper shirt KEEP just bc charlie plays so much minesweeper like my fav part of her streams is just watching her play minesweeper very intensely

keeeeep the plaid windbreaker its sooooo hot on phil. "it smells like a man whos not me" "philip where have you been." jealous dan returns

pokemon hoodie ummmm im kinda 50/50 on this one i love pokemoncore shit but fsr this pattern looks a bit weird? but overall a keep

tokyo i think i voted keep cuz i thought it was newer than it is lol idk i dont think its the worst

furby shirt keep 100% THE OLD FURBY

i think phil shoudl keep all his shorts but him them like 3 inches shorter or just cut the length off. i think its so funny how cis men are like "omg im so slutty for wearing 7 inch inseam shorts" like girl get the daisy dukes out. i wanna see the thighs please.

DID SHE JUST TAKE HER SHORTS OFF ON CAMERA. PHIL YOU WHORE. BRIGHT BLUE UNDIES. IM KILLING MYSELF

YES!!!! TINY LITTLE SHORTS GOD YES THIS IS EVERYTHING TO ME.

comfy gray shorts keep OH ITS THE ASS SHORTS. ITS THE CAKE SHORTS. KEEP

oof skinny shorts?? yeet (but no hate on skinny jeans in general... i only have one pair of jeans and theyre mega ripped skiinny jeans they just dont look skinny on me cuz im short and chubby) "if emo comes back" girl emos been back

corduroy shorts mehhh oh but texture phil needs texture so keep

ORANGE FLOWER SHORTS KEEP

HELLO??? ummm godzilla shorts are.... if the print were on a shirt i would keep but on shorts?

brown shorts yeet, flower sweater keep, basically i agree w them

ooh another black graphic longsleeve lol. I THINK THIS ONES A KEEP AND THE BEETLES A YEET SORRY

oh funky hoodie. i like it i would wear it keep but idk if i like it on phil

KEEP THE PURPLE STRIPEY SWEATER FOREVER

if this fleece jacket thing didnt have such a stupid back design on it i would say keep

SPOTTY RED BUTTON UP KEEP

keep comfy buffalo checker sweater!!! i would keep

"manchester hoodie" oh.... everyone who voted yeet go die katamari hoodie is perfect

KEEP DENIM JACKET FOREVER

fuzzy denim keeeep hes so hot

spotty blue shirt i LOVE but. its so tatinof ykwim and phils in his new era

oooh stripey blue shirt keep!

i bought a sweater that was inspired by this blue and pink checker thing LOL i think it looked better when he had jet black hair lol

BRIGHT FUTURE! keep!!!

omg wait nooo not the red bomber!!! its cute!!!!!! im too attached to his clothes bro.... i like the red one more than the blue one tbh WHY DID HE BUY SO MANY VERSIONS

Nasa sweater!! keep

blue button up is too like. corporate lol. brother you dont have an office job you dont need boring tops

tiger jumper keep!!!! i like it!!!!! fuck u MEAN fast fashion

good vibes keeeep for the vibes

oh the brown flower pattern on this doesnt work on phil

OH THIS PLANT ONES HOT. YEAH DAN THATS RIGHT DEFEND THIS SHIRT

great wave keep!

glittery zebra is so tied to 2017 in my brain but not in a good way tbh yeet but he is hot in it. "you bought this for me dan" omfg shut UP

i think i voted keep on chess but. on second look its a yeet tbh...

ok thats it yippee that was fun theyre gay im gonna die

[obscurecharactershowdown]

Group D Round 2

[image ID: the first image is of Jefferson. he is a brown and red squid wrapped around a pale blue-skinned, bearded fisherman in a yellow fishing shirt and hat. the squid is piloting the fishermen at a food serving counter. the second image is of Gruftine, a girl with pale skin, red-purple hair in a ponytail, dark circles around her eyes, and little fangs. the sides of her head are bald. around her neck is a purple choker with a black spider, and her outfit consists of a purple cloak/robe and a darker purple top and bottom that shows her stomach. she's holding a pink bag with flowers in it. the third image is of Nuch, a Thai woman with black hair pulled back, green earrings, and a red and white bandana around her neck. end ID]

Jefferson

He's a squid who pretends to be a human by puppeting a fisherman's corpse around with his tentacles. He speaks in a way that is very obviously trying and failing to sound human. If you go to his shop at night you can find him and offer to take him on a walk, which is required for a secret if you take him all the way to the other side of the map.

Gruftine

Adorable gothic vampire girl from an equally adorable vampire show!  [additional propaganda 1]

Nuch

She's an icon. She's this really smart law student. She's trans. She and her ex-boyfriend are always playfully flirting with each other. She's a political activist for marriage equality. Everyone is kinda in love with her to some extent. (Not to be confused with the director/screenwriter of the show, Nuchy, who is also a trans woman)

[hana-no-seiiki]

REVELRY IN DEATH : MEA TORMENTA - BLURB

〘 𝐀𝐑𝐂 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐂𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐌 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐄 〙《  𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄  》

ANGEL’S DESCENSION

pairings: yandere! oc (ynael krasny) x god! reader

ynael is gonna be moved from the guest is god to this series. this is just a short story which will most likely span 10 chapters at most.

warnings: suicidal ideation. ideation of death. religious themes.

status: unedited, original art to be added soon

(had the sudden urge to get into opera) (im a jakub fanboy now yall) (link to his performance of mea tormenta here)

reply to be added to the taglist!

❝

Mea tormenta, properate (Hurry, my torments)

Ubi sunt flagella et caedes, ubi sunt flagella et caedes? (Where are the scourges and the flaying?)

❞

        𝖄NAËL KRASNY WAS BIRTHED FROM A LONG-DRAWN OUT LINE OF INDIVIDUALS THAT WORSHIPPED THE GOD OF DEATH. The bloodline’s minds and souls lost in the belief that one day their beloved deity will grace them with its attention and a place abreast it in the Temple of Flowers. Heaven. A locale of infinite luxuries and pleasures.

        And if you asked him of his thoughts on the matter? 

        His parents were simply batshit insane.

        No one believed in gods nowadays — with the exception of his step-mother and father, in addition to a couple of small cults, so again, no one really. Technology had progressed so far that death was almost a splendor one would have to intentional meet with, rather being unfortunately be in the way of. Now that he thought about, death abruptly became far and few in between the past few centuries. War, famine, misfortune, all dissipated to nothingness as people seemed to finally understand how their actions could affect others.

        A fact with exiguous exceptions. Depravity is regrettably a human trait that can never be extinguished.

        His entire house was always littered with fresh lilies — flowers that apparently represented the god his parents adored so much — and he was sure the smoke he inhaled from all the incense alone could tear a hole into his lungs.

        Ynaël barged through the unlocked door to his house while yelling, “Could you two at least take your shit of a practice outside rather than stinking up the place? ‘M tryin to breathe!”

        “Ynaël, oh! Welcome back home.” His step-mother greeted him with a polite smile, while his father just grunted in response. 

        They were always like that. Ignoring most of his words and returning it with shallow and robotic greetings. It felt helpless, trying to interact with the couple.

        “Stupid shitty father — and his stupid shitty god.” He cursed them quietly. Yeah he knew he was being an edgy son of a bitch now but he had a lot to deal with in school alright? Give him a break. It was hard going back and forth to two places he’d rather burn down than be in. He stomped his way towards the basement where his bedroom lied.

        ”Salty much?”

        A familiar visage greeted him at his bed. White hair and light blue eyes that complimented his pale skin, and finally the iconic red cross hair pin. Ryu. Ryu Amamiya. One of his underclassmen in school.

        Ynaël would have picked on him to hell in back for his nerdy tastes and heavy wallet. However Ryu had one advantage that made Ynaël avoid hurting him at all costs.

        He was part of “The Stereotypes” in school. A clique of a five rich kids that everyone worshipped, basically kissing the floor the walk upon and hailing the air they breathe. He was untouchable — unless Ynaël wanted the whole school after his head. Faculty, students, all that jazz.

        Ynaël doesn’t remember why and how but he became intimate with most members of their little group  — which meant he was quite often harassed by them at every living moment.  But after his stepbrother died, the leader of the Stereotypes — a girl named Sayu or something —  started hanging around him, and eventually, the rest followed her lead.

        ”Ryu? The fuck you doing here? You here to take my brother’s shit?”

        Ryu smirked, one of those unsettling smiles every member of the stereotypes seemed to nail down. One that always managed to terrify Ynaël.

        ”Stupid shitty sister.” The albino replied, making an awful imitation of Ynaël’s gruff voice and Russian accent, that was awfully far from his own. 

        “Заткнись, Elsa. Why don’t you go back to your annoying clique, hah? I’m not up for your bullshit.”

        Ynaël envied the white haired kid in many ways. Ryu had a large influence in the campus, without so much as raising a finger. He was just himself, and the whole place admired him for it. While Ynaël had to literally and figuratively fight for scraps of attention, the majority of it being negative. No one wanted him in that institution, not the students, not the teachers, not even his parents.

        And that made Ynaël want to prove them wrong even more.

        ”You know my sister likes to hang around the rest of them whenever I’m around. I’m saving the group from her religious yapping.” Ryu complained, resting his back on the mattress of Ynaël’s bed, “Death does not discriminate. Even with who they have as their followers.”

        An object, presumably Ryu’s phone, began vibrating in his pocket. He picked it up, took one look at the caller’s ID and put it back. A sour look on his annoyingly pretty face.

        Ynaël snickered. Ryu shook his head, “Don’t die on me while I’m gone.”

        “No promises, budget Elsa.” Ynaël fluttered his fingers as a gesture of goodbye. Ryu scoffed at the motion and is about to leave before Ynaël’s step-mother interrupted his path with her presence.

        “Ynaël?”

        Ynaël almost fell down in surprise. His mother could be terrifying when she needed to be. She was nothing compared to his birth mother in terms of how much fear he’d feel around her. Thus, Ynaël grew to be quite the rambunctious teen.

        ”God fucking— you scared the shit out of me!”

        She didn’t look the slightest bit fazed by the string of curses, maintaining her signature cordial yet distant smile, ”Your father and I will be leaving for a while. Will you be alright here by yourself?”

        ”I’ll be fine . . . I guess.”

        ”Okay. Goodbye, son.” And she’s gone.

Ynaël then turned to Amamiya, shit-faced grin still clear on the latter’s face.

        “Now, will you get the fuck out of my room?”

❝

Crucem quaero, crucem date (I want to be crucified. Crucify me)

❞

        Ynaël hears muffled cheering from outside. He had no doubt it was one of those fanatical meetings his parents attended. The God of Death had no official church, and so their worshipper’s usually gathered at eachother’s homes, “Gods, couldn’t they have started their ceremonies during the day?”

Ynaël got up from his bed to look at the A sudden wave of nausea crashed over him.

        ”The fuck, why am I . . . ?”

Hang on. If his parents were celebrating here. Why did the hag bid him goodbye?

❝

Volo mori, o Deus in te, volo mori, o Deus in te, o Deus in te (I want to die, in you. In you, I want to die. Oh god, in you. Oh god, in you)

❞

        “Tonight we celebrate. The Golden Era ends. Our world will soon bathe in the reds and whites of our god.” The voice of their pastor echoed through the living room. He was a handsome man, just under a decade older than Ynaël. The latter could see the two of them being friends if it weren’t for the former’s preachy nature when it came to religious topics.

       “And to commemorate this event, two of our most devoted family members will sacrifice themselves and join our god in the Garden of Eden.”

What? Sacrifice? Ynaël knew the members were insane but how were they even supposed to sacrifice when death wasn’t even possible?

Asphyxiation was ineffective. Diseases were nonexistent. Small injuries would either healed, while larger ones (i.e. beheading) would only make the body incapable of being used.

        ”May you face our lord’s judgement”

The only way it was possible was when a person is either forced into brain death and/or was sliced to multiple itty, bitty pieces. Grounded. Before they are promptly burned.

Ynaël doubted the common people here had the means to kill whoever they want painlessly as that needed expensive medical equipment and government approval. Meaning . . .

        ”Shit.”

Even before his parents were revealed he already knew they were the ones up the proverbial and literal chopping block. He squeezed himself through the crowd of people, not surprised that none of them were complaining about the lack of breathing space in the face of their great lord’s altar.

“Fucking, let me through you assholes!”

      A hand gripped his wrist on the last layer of people, tugging him further and further away. ”You must be Ynaël. Ah. Chrystie must have invited you to witness this special day!” He recognized her to be a regular around the same age as the pastor if not a bit older.

        “What?! No— I’m—“ He tried pulling away, but the woman wouldn’t let him. Not only that but people started assisting her with keeping him away.

        ”Why don’t you stay still, hm? Chrystie wouldn’t like it if you thrashed around and take the attention all away wouldn’t she?”

That smile on her face. That horrid, unnatural, plastic grin. Ynaël would remember that for years to come.

        ”What are your final words, Chrystianna? Mika?”

        ”We have no words. We are simply grateful to be given the opportunity to join their majesty.”

        Ynaël screamed. He screamed in horror. He screamed in regret that he wasn’t able to form the bonds others would have with their parents. He screamed knowing that this moment would be the last he’d see them alive.

He never got to express how much he loved them, craved for their affection. Now he will never have such an opportunity.

        But his voice was drowned out by the cacophony of cheers coming from the large crowd; a chorus of limitless devotion.

A large lily appears, tearing open the walls of the small home as it bloomed. In it you, appeared. Lying down in a fetal position.

        “It s-seems that our lord has appeared before us! In flesh anew!”

But he didn’t get to look at you properly before your very presence held him down, affixed to the ground. And it tugged him even harsher and harsher until like the rest of the people in the chamber, he was kneeling towards your divine self.

        He didn’t know if it was due to his emotions running high, or if he was slowly going insane from the current happenings. However he could not deny that your voice was heaven upon Earth. It dripped with an enchanting allure that he was immediately captivated despite not seeing your visage. “My lovely, devoted followers.”

        “Our day has come.”

        “Let us cleanse this world of all its decrepit sinners and unite all once again under the umbrella of mortality.”

❝

Mea tormenta, properate, ubi sunt flagella et caedes? (Hurry, my torment. Where are the scourges and the flaying?)

❞

©️ ALL ART AND WRITING WERE CREATED AND SOLELY BELONGS TO ME. DO NOT REDISTRIBUTE, REPOST, OR CLAIM THAT IT IS MADE BY SOMEONE ELSE. 

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapters 52: There Is Neither Beginning Nor End & 53: The Wheel Turns

Spoiler alert: This is the end of the book, so if you haven't finished reading it yet, there's certainly spoilers ahead. I also went ahead and spoiled the rest of the series as a treat.

Chapter 52 has the trefoil leaves chapter icon, a symbol of how winter is over and spring has come at last, here on... May 9th. Yeah that's gonna cause some problems later.

Light. That should mean something. Thought was a new thing. I can think. I means me.

René Descartes doesn't really seem like a potential candidate for a past life of Rand in the same way that Yeshua of Nazareth (the subtext is screamingly obvious), Arthur Wellesley (no seriously, this one is canon, wait for it), or Volodymyr Zelenskyy (improbable leader with a blonde wife named Olena) are, but it's not impossible either and kind of funny! What better reason for headcanons?

With an effort he fumbled his sword from its scabbard. Only a few ashes remained from the red cloth.

This bodes poorly for Morgase - Rand might like a few members of the current world order and respect leaders who ascended lawfully and rule justly, but even they have to be replaced as a part of his embracing his destiny.

Egwene. He broke into a shambling run. Leaves and flower petals showered around him as he blundered through the undergrowth. Have to find her. Who is she?

If I was skilled enough, I could absolutely extract an essay about how these five sentences cover so much of the endgame of the series, but alas I am very rusty. Nonetheless, it's very significant that she is the first name that comes to mind as Rand recovers from his head trauma.

A pretty girl looked up with big eyes from where she knelt beneath the spreading branches, flowers in her hair, and brown oak leaves. She was slender and young, and frightened.

I can't tell if it's the head trauma or the denial he already had, but either way it's very impressive that Rand continuously acknowledges that all three of the women are deeply uncomfortable being around a man who just channeled at a scale unseen in millennia without ever processing why that might be.

In the Age of Legends, Aginor was close behind the Kinslayer and Ishamael in power.

In one of the deepest tragedies of the Breaking, while all the libraries were put to the torch, Buzzfeed's archives survived long enough for Aes Sedai to be able to study articles about Top 10 Channelers Who Might Kill Us All Without Noticing During This New and Horrifying War.

“The Dark One,” the Aes Sedai cut him off. Ill or not, her voice was firm, and her dark eyes commanding. “Best we still call him the Dark One. Or Ba’alzamon, at least.” He shrugged. “As you wish. But he’s dead. The Dark One’s dead. I killed him. I burned him with. . . .” The rest of memory flooded back then, leaving his mouth hanging open. The One Power. I wielded the One Power. No man can. . . .

Lews's fatal flaw of pride comes out most strongly when Rand is channeling or in its afterglow. Shepherd Rand would never have thought, if you'd asked, that anyone could channel enough power to kill the Dark One, even if it looked like it.

“I had suspicions from the first,” Moiraine said.

I dunno Moiraine, I really feel like you're choosing your words carefully to hide the fact that you were pretty up in the air about it the whole damn time.

He shivered. He felt so cold his fingers hurt. “If I never do it again, if I never touch it again, I won’t. . . .” He could not say it. Go mad. Turn the land and people around him to madness. Die, rotting while he still lived. “Perhaps,” Moiraine said.

I mean, she's choosing her words carefully everywhere else. In this case, "perhaps" means, "I can't literally say it's impossible because maybe somewhere in all of human history one person managed to resist channeling, but I so strongly believe it's impossible that I really want to say it anyway."

His throat constricted until he could hardly breathe. Will they turn their faces the way Egwene did? Will they scream and run away like I’m a Fade? Moiraine spoke as if she did not notice the blood draining from his face.

It says a lot about the friendships Rand has that absolutely none of this crew does abandon him. They're a bit distant, but it's Rand who really pushes the others away in the immediate future.

Moiraine continues to be a bad mentor here, ignoring Rand's obvious emotional distress to try and push him along the path of prophecy. For all that she really is one of the best Aes Sedai, the fact that in just a little bit she's going to be describing him as a tool to be used (and not explicitly denying Rand's metaphor of being thrown in the trash afterward) shows a lot of where her headspace is at. Rand needs to fulfill the prophecies, seal the Dark One, break as little of the world as possible along the way, and then bleed out so that the adults can take back over once the Last Battle is done. She isn't malicious in this perspective; she just has spent so long dedicating her whole self to the cause that she's forgotten that once upon a time she herself was just a young woman who didn't know what destiny had in store for her and what she'd be giving up to save the world.

“A tool made for a purpose is not demeaned by being used for that purpose,” Moiraine’s voice was as harsh as his own, “but a man who believes the Father of Lies demeans himself. You say you will not be used, and then you let the Dark One set your path like a hound sent after a rabbit by his master.”

And like, I don't blame her for being harsh here - like Rand, she's just had a hella traumatic experience after two straight months of misery and anyway her argument itself is quite sound - but she is the adult in the room and Rand's being given the worst news imaginable. Her refusal or inability to be kinder in this moment and try to deescalate is really the moment that Rand shifts from seeing Moiraine as a potentially untrustworthy individual who is nonetheless worth putting faith in to being the dangerous trickster figure who only wants to parade him around as her puppet.

“So you’re alive after all.” Mat laughed. His face darkened, and he jerked his head at Moiraine. “She wouldn’t let us look for you. Said we had to find out what the Eye was hiding. I’d have gone anyway, but Nynaeve and Egwene sided with her and almost threw me through the arch.”

Hell, let's look at these three paragraphs in a bit of detail: here's where Mat's testimony shows that Moiraine is manipulating the situation and separating him from his best friends (and that she's won over Nynaeve and Egwene in the process).

“You’re here, now,” Perrin said, “and not too badly beaten about, by the look of you.” His eyes did not glow, but the irises were all yellow, now. “That’s the important thing. You’re here, and we’re done with what we came for, Whatever it was. Moiraine Sedai says we’re done, and we can go. Home, Rand. The Light burn me, but I want to go home.”

Here's where Perrin confirms that Moiraine intends this separation to be permanent: the other two boys aren't channelers so she's willing to let them go if they want - and Rand has no reason to think they won't be leaving soon enough anyway.

“Good to see you alive, sheepherder,” Lan said gruffly. “I see you hung onto your sword. Maybe you’ll learn to use it, now.” Rand felt a sudden burst of affection for the Warder; Lan knew, but on the surface at least, nothing had changed. He thought that perhaps, for Lan, nothing had changed inside either.

Rand's out of allies. The girls are Aes Sedai to be, Mat and Perrin are seemingly out the door. So he imprints on the last human left to him, the dude who is allied with Moiraine but hasn't been relentlessly sketch about it and shown Rand some kindness along the way. Hell, he's even proven his relative humanity in the love Rand knows he has for Nynaeve but can't act upon.

(I'd include Loial's paragraph that comes next but it basically boils down to "If things get scarier, I'm out," which is of no comfort to Rand.)

“Cuendillar,” Moiraine said. “Heartstone. No one has been able to make it since the Age of Legends, and even then it was made only for the greatest purpose. Once made, nothing can break it. Not the One Power itself wielded by the greatest Aes Sedai who ever lived aided by the most powerful sa’angreal ever made. Any power directed against heartstone only makes it stronger.”

I really do wonder what it is that the Dark One managed to do to corrupt these things - and what mechanism will eventually be discovered to turn heartstone back into regular stuff for the next turning of the Wheel. Maybe they just always trade it all to the Finns and magical chemistry is different in such sideways places.

The flattened cube of gold and silver appeared to be solid, but the Aes Sedai’s fingers felt across the intricate work, pressing, and with a sudden click a top flung back as if on springs.

I suspect (as do others!) that the Horn of Valere had been kept in a stasis box. The Tower likely recovered a few over the millennia, letting Moiraine recognize this one and understand how to work out how to open it.

“I begin to wonder,” Moiraine said. “The Eye of the World was made against the greatest need the world would ever face, but was it made for the use to which . . . we . . . put it, or to guard these things? Quickly, the last, show it to me.”

It's both Moiraine. They knew Rand would need to use a lot of untainted saidin (even if they didn't know what for) and they knew that once he showed up he'd need the rest of the crap, so they put it all in the same place. Imagine if Rand had needed to go running around the world to find them all.

The whole thing seemed of a piece, neither woven, nor dyed, nor painted. A figure like a serpent, scaled in scarlet and gold, ran the entire length, but it had scaled legs, and feet with five long, golden claws on each, and a great head with a golden mane and eyes like the sun. The stirring of the banner made it seem to move, scales glittering like precious metals and gems, alive, and he almost thought he could hear it roar defiance.

I wonder if dragons were still remembered in LTT's era or if he just really liked weird biology.

Dead, brown leaves falling from the great oak. Dead leaves rustling thick on the ground in the breeze, brown mixed with petals dropped from thousands of flowers. The Green Man had held back the Blight, but already the Blight was killing what he had made.

But only because no one is taking action, but more on that next chapter.

Rand climbed into the bay’s saddle with a sense of loss. It shouldn’t be this way. Blood and ashes, we won!

We've moved into chapter 53. It has the wheel-and-serpent icon that I don't think we've seen since the Prologue, showing how we're moving into an especially epic part of history. And now we have Rand reflecting on a running theme of Jordan's, that absolutely none of the epic battles end in anything like happiness and that yes dammit losing could be even worse.

Before the oak, Loial knelt, closing his eyes and stretching out his arms. The tufts on his ears stood straight as he lifted his face to the sky. And he sang.

It's not battle that holds back the Blight, as necessary as it might be, but love.

He half expected they would have to fight their way out as they fought their way in, but the Blight was as quiet and still as death. Not a single branch trembled as if to lash at them, nothing screamed or howled, neither nearby nor in the distance. The Blight seemed to crouch, not to pounce, but as if it had been struck a great blow and waited for the next to fall. Even the sun was less red.

The Shadow's been dealt an absolutely humiliating defeat against a bunch of country bumpkins, it's frankly surprising that the entire kingdom of Malkier wasn't freed from the Blight after this - and even as is the ruins seem less forlorn. There's not much to quote for the next little bit because it's all the same: everything is better and everyone is happier for it.

Ingtar’s was the first face Rand saw that was not smiling.

Aww, is the Darkfriend who betrayed everyone he ever loved by giving into despair still sad? Poor baby.

Agelmar was in his study, with his swords and armor back on their racks, and his was the second face that did not smile.

Aww, is the Dar-- wait no that's not it. Agelmar is of course unable to smile because he knows what's coming: a powerful male channeler.

“A miracle,” Agelmar said, shaking his head, “but. . . . Moiraine Sedai, men say many things about what happened in the Gap. That the Light took on flesh and fought for us. That the Creator walked in the Gap to strike at the Shadow. But I saw a man, Moiraine Sedai. I saw a man, and what he did, cannot be, must not be.”

No miracles in this world; to quote Futurama:

(He told Bender so himself.)

Sadly for Agelmar, Rand can and he will and yes, he very much must.

“We won, Lord Agelmar. We won, and the land freed from winter is the proof, but I fear the last battle has not yet been fought.” Rand stirred, but the Aes Sedai gave him a sharp look and he stood still again.

Rand's interior Lews pride is so strong he'd be perfectly happy to out himself as the Dragon Reborn at the worst possible moment if it meant he could shout, "I killed Shai'tan!" at someone.

I did not show it to you to taunt you, but so that you will know that in whatever battles yet come, our might will be as great as that of the Shadow. Its place is not here. The Horn must be carried to Illian. It is there, if fresh battles threaten, that it must rally the forces of the Light.

In many ways, it feels like Illian only got so strongly associated with the Horn so that Moiraine could have a hyperfixation to be hilariously wrong about that wouldn't hinder Rand's actual development too much. The Wheel's a real jerk, you know?

“Good, sheepherder.” Leaning against the railing with his arms folded across his chest, the Warder watched him critically. “You are doing well, but don’t push so hard. You can’t become a blademaster in a few weeks.”

He'll do it in six months, three days - and four months, one week, and three days of that will be completely wasted. Unless maybe his Blademaster skills from those lives rubbed off on him in some sort of Everything Everywhere All at Once style training session.

“Somewhere. I don’t know.” He did not want to meet her eyes, but he could not stop looking at her. She wore fed wild-roses twined in her hair, flowing about her shoulders. She held her cloak close, dark blue and embroidered along the edge with a thin line of white flowers in the Shienaran fashion, and the blossoms made a line straight up to her face. They were no paler than her cheeks; her eyes seemed so large and dark. “Away.”

Egwene is showing her first real signs of one of her ultimate skills: being able to adapt to whatever culture she's visiting so long as they're not treating her worse than a slave. She did this a bit when they were leaving with Moiraine but that was clearly more youthful rebellion and now it's becoming something more.

Rand meanwhile thinks he's getting out of this town and he's just so wrong because he doesn't even want to leave his friends.

“Moiraine does not know I am alive. I have done what she wanted, and that’s an end to it. She doesn’t even speak to me when I go to her. Not that I’ve tried to stay close to her, but she’s avoided me. She won’t care if I go, and I don’t care if she does.”

Yeah, Moiraine's done a great job of torpedoing the relationship she could have had with Rand.

“And wait for some Aes Sedai besides Moiraine to find out what I am and gentle me?” His voice was rough, almost a sneer; he could not change it. “Is that what you want?” “No.” He knew he would never be able to tell her how grateful he was that she had not hesitated before answering.

Something the Egwene haters are blind to is that while she can be remarkably uncharitable towards Rand, she's still fiercely loyal in her own fashion. Rand being gentled is unspeakable in her eyes and the revelation her tests seem to show her that she will inevitably be forced to turn against Rand horrifies her to a degree beyond even Mat's own disgust at his own visions of betrayal. All the alt!Egwenes fail Rand but this one true Egwene only ends up opposing him in a way that saves the world and isn't an abandonment.

The faint blue glow faded from the stone, and a smile touched her lips. It had no power in itself, the stone, but the first use she had ever learned of the One Power, as a girl, in the Royal Palace in Cairhien, was using the stone to listen to people when they thought they were too far off to be overheard.

Moiraine, honey, please stop scheming. It's only making things worse for everyone including you.

“The Prophecies will be fulfilled,” the Aes Sedai whispered. “The Dragon is Reborn.”

This right here is for us the reader: Moiraine might be petty and underhanded in a lot of ways, but she isn't using Rand the way other Aes Sedai seem to have used the false Dragons. She genuinely believes that she's fulfilling the prophecies. We needed this reassurance - frankly Rand does too but he can't have nice things - so that when she gets increasingly sketch in this next book we still know to root for her.

And that's the end of book one! I say it still holds up and is one of the stronger fantasy novels out there - its ending is bizarrely esoteric but honestly it's just the final escalation of the dream sequences that run throughout the novel. Its focus on Rand is a little odd in light of the huge ensemble we end up getting, but honestly in the later novels we cross over to a point where I feel like there's way too many POV characters running around so having too tight a focus is better than the alternative in my book.

I'm gonna take a little break again, maybe do another novel in between, but rest assured I'll be hopping over to The Great Hunt and getting into that madness soon enough.

EDIT: Crap, I know I was forgetting something. @butterflydm Absolutely no references to channeling slowing aging exist in this text, so yes, that probably explains the oddities of Lews' family situation.

[basedkikuenjoyer]

The Red Thread of Fate

This one’s been a long time coming. It was honestly a pretty early thing I noticed, before starting this little journey at least. The first part of Wano leans on bits of Romance Dawn to stir the association. Incidentally I love the anime slipping the alternate pilot special in the perfect spot of Bakura for an AU. One of those big core threads I was waiting to see a little more before pondering; Luffy was so impressed because Kiku sorta reminded him of Makino and Shanks. Don’t even get me started on Uta if you want to go into that grey area not to mention some of the little ways Tama parallels Luffy’s childhood role.

Remember, this first chapter came out in 1997. Eiichiro Oda is coming fresh off of his time on Rurouni Kenshin, which is still a juggernaut for WSJ in serialization. There’s not a huge gap here. One Piece is rolling out right as Honjo’s story is woven into the contemporary RK volume releases. It’d be smack dab around the time Oda and Watsuki both were learning that ended up being a very well-received side story. But first, the iconic protagonist. Shanks here in Chapter 1 is one of many nice homages, I coulda told you that when I first saw it almost 20 years ago. The iconic red-haired samurai, one of the main motifs was the humility for one of his rank to “debase” themselves with domestic chores. Who else does this concept remind you of? 

It’s not just “Teehee there’s a little window of time these two could have met and I have a headcanon about how it could be cute.” Kiku’s a cutie supremo and funny as hell and happens to be really well done trans rep...but this is the kind of stuff that makes me obsessed with her. The thing is, Kiku never quite stops being a step ahead of the Shanks Luffy knew. Worth noting too, don’t forget this big Future Sight element. Luffy doesn’t just have to be impressed by what we see Kiku do or guess at say, a crewmate saying something offensive. He could be responding to what she would have done otherwise.

Shanks doesn’t mind cleaning up, Kiku was Okobore’s Makino. Shanks takes and brushes off ridicule, Kiku threads the needle of a way to put her foot down without escalating. Shanks doesn’t balk at a gang laughing at him when his crew’s there, Kiku the same standing alone with a jeering town at her back. Shanks stands up for a friend, Kiku the town & common folk who were insulting her. All tied up in getting one over on the dude without hurting anything but his reputation and still doing her part to save the child. Remember that’s Shanks at 27 and Kiku at 22, and then think about how Kiku ends up paralleling with 28yo Yamato in a very similar fashion. My whole point for over a year has been Wano constantly but subtly nudging you with the idea this girl’s a prodigy stifled by cultural baggage. “How high can your ceiling go?” 

Now that context is in the hopper, let’s talk plot. This isn’t just happenstance. We know Raizo & Kin know Roger’s crew well enough to recognize the cabin boy. We know Kiku and Kawamatsu are there for the scene. We know Oden follows that up immediately by saying he was only in Wano for mere hours. Hours is a big enough window for a significant interaction. Landing on Wano through fighting Urashima was hours. The main story of Dressrosa or Thriller Bark weren’t much longer. We know now it’d be the travel time for someone to get to the Flower Capital and back plus the palace excursion. 

So Shanks was a teen here. What might catch his rambunctious eye? He was real buddy-buddy with Neko & Inu, we know at some point Neko told Kiku about Izo’s decision. Why not right away when Redtaro could presumably still be there? Don’t forget Buggyjiro as well. Stands to reason the Minks might have considered the need the few days before arrival, fretted about it even. Maybe Shanks did something like make a reckless promise to reunite them and it’s always eaten at him he could never fulfill it. It doesn’t have to be complex, even a simple faux pas could be very on brand for how this plays with the ongoing story. Be a really bad time for some tactless clod to stroll in and blurt out “Hey...I thought you said Izo had a little brother” or Buggy/Shanks having a classic argument about her gender a little too loudly.

Always thought it was cool how the one proper YamaKiku panel is the former declining an invite the latter picks up. Remember how they trade places through the mask in 984-985? Oh hey...Luffy did reunite the siblings! Almost like that could be the first time he surpassed Shanks or something if we wanna do that. Kiku recognized the Nidai Kitetsu, Sukiyaki, & Big Mom without saying anything. What about the hat? Think both using -taro for their Wanoified nickname helped? Not like she’d be the only one. And it can be anything. Maybe Kiku was Shanks’s Kuina, a silly spat saw Redtaro get knocked tf out. Or she was just some girl he liked. Maybe had her in mind for when he broke off and started his own crew. The cool thing about something like that is how it could give Luffy the perfect leg up against a guy like Shanks...something like Mother Caramel’s portrait. A bit of unresolved personal baggage.

Time to talk later, it’s best not to get emotional before battle...you have all this sitting on a girl who we set up the perfect gap for the perfect timing. Egghead’s already doing the Rashomon thing of filling in the gaps. Law teases about looking at who’s missing right when you’d wonder about Kin/Kiku, by the end of it all we get our answer for Yamato and leave only one pair unaccounted for in that final turning point of the “play.” Marco & Kiku, who easily could have finally found that promised time to talk later. Luffy & Kiku crossing paths after everything including Yama is resolved. Luffy’s got Shanks and Fuushia on the brain and Kiku’s just had a nice long chance to let Marco tell her about Izo, Marineford, Ace, or whatever.

That’s what’s cool to me. You have this girl who unquestionably caught Luffy’s eye arguably because of traits she shares with Shanks and Makino. That girl has the right timing to have been a similar influence on Shanks himself...which means you gotta ask what attracted him to Fuushia and Party’s Bar in the first place. He used it as his base for a year, after all. Even if it’s nothing more than a fun story the two share one day, you gotta admit it’s a cool connection sitting on the table.