spandanas-blog

[kerosene-saint]

what mutual am i (made by me cause I thought it would be fun) ASK GAME

[Picture ID: A drawing with 12 circles all different colors and labeled different things, bullet points follow under them.

the first circle is a deep purple with light purple glitter particles. It's labeled "purple glitter" and the bullet points under it say: "fabulous", "I love your aesthetic very much", "you do have an abnormal amount of microplastics in your blood though".

the second circle is a neon green with a lighter green wave around it. it's labeled radioactive. the bullet points for it are "some sort of creature", "you give bioluminessence vibes".

the third circle is a medium pink with dark green leave and a stem on the top. it's labeled starberry. the bullet points are "I think we should bake together", "flower crowns possibly".

the fourth circle is a light seafoam green labeled seafoam green. the bullet points are "maybe a little snobby", "calm yourself", "I don't know why I still follow you tbh", "Maybe I'm just reading you wrong".

the fith circle is multiple colors, in order from top to bottom: very light blue, sky blue, yellow, red, black, purple, pink, to light pink. it's labeled do you like the color of the sky. the bullet points are "you're always on tumblr", "hits post limit daily", "you should go watch some tumblr history videos if you haven't already".

circle number six is a brick pattern labeled throwing bricks. the bullet points are "you're my resource for all of the things happening in the world", "probably really punk or at least an Anarchist".

circle number seven is a red panda's facial fur pattern labeled red panda. the bullet points are "so soft", "very small", "you're so cute", "my favorite silly".

circle eight is a light off white color labeled cu- I mean creme. the bullet points are "Hey there", "I mean you wanted to-", "slash jay".

circle nine is a deep gold color with a light shine to it labeled stay gold. the bullet points are "book reader", "how do you read so many", "pretty cool", "also a nerd".

the tenth circle is a medium purple with a light purple heart in the center. it's labeled my favorite purple. the bullet points are "you're my favorite person on this hellsite", "why are you here, you're so nice", "are you a people pleaser".

the eleventh circle is a bright pink with pastel pink stars labeled barbie dream house. the bullet points are "nostalgia.", "do you live in the past I swear you do", "are those rose tinted glasses comfortable bub".

the final circle is a black color with a red blood splotch. it's labeled Gerard Way in the 2000s. the bullet points are "popular mutual", "I think you're pretty neat and also kind of scary", "probably really sweet but I'm still intimidated". /.End ID]

[heedzhee-art]

My old edits of Ukraine wearing a more accurate (simplified) traditional costume in comparison to the Sharovarshchyna-like clothes she has on in the original

Sharovarshchyna is basically pseudo-ethnic clothing that has nothing to do with Ukrainian national wear, and only pretends to be ethnic through kitsch elements. Sooo... something like this:

Sharovarshchyna:

Cheap, thin fabric, often glossy. Eye-straining red + white colour combination. Large and very vibrant flowers on the clothes, sometimes glued on. Generally very saturated colours, plastic-looking flower crowns that have no usage in traditional rituals or holidays. Often very low in details, minor accessories like a single necklace. Men often depicted wearing vibrant red boots (symbol of femininity? most of the time brides would wear those). Has nothing to do with Ukrainian heritage. A caricature, theatrical costume popularized in the late 19th century, later endorsed during the soviet era, when russification was especially violent, and only the "correct" showcasing of Ukrainian things wasn't persecuted. Still used by Ukrainians as a scenical costume for the very purpose it was created - because it's cheap, and easier to dance in.

"Sharovarshchyna" comes from the word "sharovary" which is the name of the stereotypical loose Cossack pants

Traditional Ukrainian costume:

Mostly muted colour scheme. Dark red, black and white often used as dominant colours, with details of other tones with higher saturation. Many elements vary depending on the region and occasion. Typically linen or thick cotton fabric. Detailed decorative embroidered elements have spiritual and symbolic meanings. Flower crown-like headwear worn by women during holidays and ceremonies (like weddings). Decorative tassels and fringe are often used on sleeves, hems, and headpieces to add texture and flair.

Also! Aprons, scarves, sashes, belts, and a lot of different headwear! (⁠っ⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠っ

edit: for additional context, the second picture showcases wedding crowns and hats

Also some bonus examples of modern Ukrainian ethno-fashion ↓

Thanks for reading. I plan to do a more elaborate post with illustrations about Ukrainian traditional wear sometime in the future 🙏

[mrsmikaelsxn]

Flower Crowns

masterlist

pairing: harry potter x female reader

warnings: kissing, jily 2.0, fluff, flirty harry

summary: you were quite popular among the wizards and witches in the school, you had many admirers but none of them were like harry potter

a/n: harry would honestly be such a perfect boyfriend

song: i was made for lovin’ you - kiss

It was your sixth year at Hogwarts, today was your first day back after summer. Seated at the Slytherin table with some of your friends, you were in a conversation about what everyone did over the summer. 

As you were about to tell them about the trip you took, you hear a throat being cleared from behind you. You turn around as your friends look up and roll there eyes. 

“Hello, darling,” Harry grins while plopping himself on the bench with little room next to you.

“Potter,” you nod looking him over.

“How is it you’ve gotten even more beautiful over the summer,” he sighs dreamily. Your friends moved down the table more since they were tired of this routine. You look at them with betrayal as they just smile and shrug. 

“What is it you came over here for?” you dont know why you bother asking at this point, you already know whats coming. 

“Well, love, I came to ask you if you would go out with me this weekend,” he winks. You glace over his shoulder to see a Hermione sighing and a grinning Ron. 

“Sorry, Potter, but I’m going to have to decline your offer,” you said looking back at him. He’s use to you saying no, like how it has been for the past four years. He still trys all the time, he has never done anything with another person either. He is so set on you being for him that he is disgusted at the thought of being with anyone else that isn’t you. 

In the summer before second year, he went back home and told his parents about you. He would somehow have a way to bring you up everyday, while he blushing thinking about you. James would always grin at Lily while lifting his eyebrows up and down. She would roll her eyes as James starts to tell him about how to get you to take interest in him. 

Taking his dads advice, he would buy you little things at least twice a week, give you compliments every time he saw you, and many more things. 

One time during fourth year, he saw you walking around alone at the Quidditch World Cup. You were in a somewhat long silk green dress that complimented your body perfectly. You had some light makeup and your hair styled back.  He told the Weasleys and Hermione to go on and that he would joining them in a few minutes. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” Harry greets you while letting his eyes roam all over you in adoration. You glance over at him, taking in his messy hair and him in general. You would be lying if you were to say that he was not attractive, anyone could see that. 

“Potter, how are you?” 

“I'm perfect after seeing you, you look stunning” he smiles.

You blushed and looked away trying to hide your light pink cheeks. Although he most definitely saw, he felt like the happiest person ever. This was the first time he was able to make you blush.

“Thank you, I suppose you don’t look bad yourself,” you tell him while the corners of your mouth lift up a bit. 

He could have fainted right there, he started to stutter as he wasn’t expecting that. 

“I best be off, Potter. My family is waiting for me, I’ll see you soon,” you wave at the blushing boy as you start walking back. 

“I- uhm- brilliant!” That day he went to back to the Weasley’s tent as he told them about what happened. They all teased him about his massive crush as was still in a daze. It was truly astonishing how one sentence from you could lead him to act like this. 

Another time was last year, fifth year, when you had gotten detention with Umbridge. You were walking back to the common room with tears stinging your eyes. Umbridge had you stay much longer than you thought because of your “innappropriote behavior”. Apparently, speaking the truth is innappropriote now. As you were turing you almost crashed into someone. You look up to see a worried Harry Potter looking down at you. 

“I’m sorry, Potter. Excuse me,” you excuse yourself trying to go around him. Before you can, he gently grabs your waist and turns you to face him again. 

“Hold on, darling. Why are you crying, did something happen?” 

You couldn’t hold in the pain anymore. You started crying while grabbing onto Harry. His arms quickly wrapped around your waist. 

“Shh, love. Tell me whats wrong,” he whispers while using one hand to play with your hair. 

“I- um- had detention, with Umbridge,” he looks confused so you take a step back an slowly hold your left arm out. 

He was still confused for a second before looking at your hand. He was fuming, he saved his anger for now and decided to comfort you right now. He also felt such sadness that anyone would hurt an angel like you. 

“She did this to you?” he asked while sounding like he was about to cry. You nod, with some tears still streaming down your face. Oh how we wished he was able to kiss them away. 

“Come on love, I’ll take you to Hermione… she is much better at healing spells than me,” he informs you while gently pulling you towards the Gryffindor common room.

It was pretty late, so the room was empty when you both arrived. Except for Ron and Hermione who were arguing on the couch. They never had anything against you, even though you were a Slytherin, you had never participating in any of the bullying that a lot of other Slytherins did. You even scolded Malfoy when he called Hermione a Mudblood. 

Since that day you became somewhat friends with the girl, ignoring the looks of disgust from others in your house. 

When the two gryffindors looked up and saw you crying with distraught Harry, their argument quickly ended as they rushed over to you both.

“What happened, y/n? Harry?” Hermione says worridly. 

You tell them what happened, and they were just as mad as Harry. They tried to get rid of the writing on your hand but it would not go away. So Hermione decided she would just take the pain away for now. You thanked her with a hug and said goodnight as her and Ron went to their rooms. 

You turned to Harry and noticed how close your faces were, you glanced down at at his lips almost leaning in when you heard a bang from the dormitory making you both jump. 

“I- uh- should get back. Thank you, Potter,” you smile, quickly giving him a peck on the cheek before rushing out and leaving you both a blushing mess. 

Harry was left standing there as he lifted his hand to his red cheeks where your lips were. “What a girl,” he mumbled walking up the stairs. 

Back to present times, Harry got back up from his seat and looked down to you. “I’ll suppose I’ll have to try again tommorow, pretty,” he grins walking back to his seat. 

You blush lightly before picking up your things to head to your first class. The professor ended up assigning seats, and to Harrys luck, he was partnered with you for the year. 

“It’s meant to be, love,” he says as he leans back into his seat. 

“You wish, Potter,” you smile at him. 

“Yes, I do wish,” he grins looking at your eyes. 

After a long day of beginning of the year speeches, you were finally able to plop onto your bed and sleep. You look over to your friend, Daphne Greengrass, she was one of the only tolerable Slytherins in your opinion. 

“It’s adorable how much Potter loves you,” she laughs laying in bed. 

“Pfft, don't be ridiculous Daphne. He doesn't love me,” you shake your head. 

“He looks at you like you’re the only person in the world,” she giggles.  

“Hm”

You decided to drop the conversation, you closed your eyes and fell asleep. Later the next day, you were in the forbidden forest. Around a year ago, you found a place with a pretty flower field that was closed off. You come here often, as far as you know, you’re the only one who knows about it. 

You started to weave a flower crown out of a few lovely flowers you picked. You finished it and put it on as you hear meows from behind you. You turn around a squeal as you pick up the kitten and started to play with her (you checked the gender). 

You were unaware of Harry who was on his was to you after using the Mauraders Map to find you. He finally found you and his heart melt as he saw you giggling with a meowing kitten that licked your face as you lay in the field. 

You heard walking and sat up only to find yourself looking at the boy who has been on your mind a lot recently. 

“Oh! Hi, Harry, I didn’t expect you to come here,” you say. 

“Harry?” he asks you, trying to suppress a smile.

“Thats your name, is it not?” you laugh. 

“I suppose it is. Mind if I sit?” you nod, as you sit together in silence that was unexpectedly comfortable. 

Harry couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you. 

“I really do fancy you,” Harry mumbles.

You turn to look at him, “I know… maybe I fancy you a bit as well,” you say, bringing your fingers up to show a pinch. 

“Really?” Harry asks leaving closer to you. 

“Really,” you whisper as you move so close your lips are brushing. You look into see his eyes and notice how pretty they are. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispers against your mouth as he connects his to yours. You both close your eyes as you kiss back and reach your hands into his hair. For the first minute it was sweet, before it started to become more passionate. You bring your leg over his and straddle him without disconnecting your lips. It was pure bliss.

You tug his hair getting a groan from him as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, asking for permission. You happily comply and open your mouth, letting him explore your mouth, and you his. You gently pull his hair back and kiss down his neck and jaw. You leave many butterfly kisses. In between the kisses he whispers some small compliments, making you smile against his neck. You find his sweet spot and lightly suck on it, making him whimper, and leaving a beautiful hickey.  He says some praises bring heat to your face. He kisses your cheeks, “I love making you blush,” he smiles. 

“Oh hush, Potter,” you get off his lap. He groans but you decide its better to stop now before things get more heated. 

“Is it alright if I make you a flower crown? I think it would look rather good on you,” you asks with a sheepish smile.

“Of course, love”

He lays his head on your lap as you make the crown, you finish after about four minutes. It was somewhat hard for you to focus when you could feel Harrys gaze on you, but you tried your best to ignore it. 

“Andddd… done!” Harry sits up and you place it on his head. 

“You look pretty,” you smile pecking his lips. A light pink coats his cheeks. He honesty has never been so happy, he adores you so much that you are 90% of what he talks about. It was such a pain for his friends to have to listen to his rants about your “angelic beauty,” as he puts it. 

“Thank you, angel,” he says. 

“I think we should head back now, dinner alreader started,” you say standing up, also taking the kitten with you. You both walk hand in hand, you grinning at the kitten asleep in your arms, and both of you forgetting about the flower crowns on your heads. You both keep up a good conversation throught the walk.

You stroll into the great hall with Harry as it goes silent. Then there was a chorus of gasps as they take in your guys hand held together, both of your somewhat messy hair, swollen lips, and the hickey on Harrys neck. You step away from him and you head towards your friends, you could hear most boys wolf whistling, some scowling at Harry. Many girls were also glaring at you out of jealousy. 

You look at the staff table and see Dumbledore wink at you, making you raise your eyebrows. You also see Snape hand over some galleons to McGonagall. 

“I’m happy for you, Harry,” Hermione smiles, glancing at Ron as she kicks his leg. 

“Oh- yeah! Good going, mate,” he smirks as he pats his back.

The next day Harry asked you if you would be his girlfriend. You nodded with a smile and gave him a soft kiss.

[daemour]

Pairing: crown prince! San x maid! f! yn

Word Count: 2,971

Warnings: cursing, slight arguing, smut warnings under cut

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut, royalty au, M for mature audiences

Summary: You're called to attend to crown prince San for an unexpected bath. Before that happens, the two of you talk about some unexpected happenings.

Smut Warnings: Bath sex, oral (f receiving), breast play, biting/marking, unprotected sex (dont do this unless discussed guys), some praise, riding, creampie, ignore the logistics please <3

-

This was supposed to be a surprise for @sanjoongie but my husband spoiled it 🥹🤣 so now you all get to enjoy it for San's birthday (cus i actually remembered this time)

Ik this is pretty short for a smut writing i post on main but i promise this will not be a normal occurrence 🤣 please still expect most smuts to be on the 18+ blog

“YN, you’ve been requested by the high prince to assist him in his bath.” One of the maids, Ryujin, informs you before you’re about to tend to the gardens. “I can take garden duty for you.”

Your brows furrow. “It’s only just noon, and he’s taking a bath? Is something happening later on tonight?”

Ryujin shrugs, bumping you with her shoulder. “I’d hurry though, he seemed pretty upset. And we all know Prince San could never be mad with you around.”

Your face heats up and you hurriedly shush her, although you can’t wipe the knowing smile off her face. It’s not a well-kept secret among the servants that Crown Prince San has a softer spot for you, and if he wasn’t next in line for the throne he would’ve married you by now. He’s courting you without the flowers, and anyone can see it except for the nobles themselves.

It’s not like you haven’t tried to keep him at an arms’ length, but as sweet and loving as San is, he’s the Crown Prince. What he wants, he gets.

With an internal sigh and a moment to steel yourself, you knock gently at the ornate doors leading to San’s chambers. “My prince? You have requested my assistance.”

“You may enter.”

You push open the doors slightly to let yourself in, shutting them behind you and locking them, as is a habit that you’ve ingrained into your routine by now. “My prince, why are you taking a bath so early in the day? Is there something happening?”

The prince turns from where he is leaning against his large windowsill to face YN, his face stormy. “My parents have secured a ‘proper’ marriage for me,” he scoffs, his voice harsh, but it softens once he sees you flinch. “I am sorry, YN. I did not mean to startle you. I have just been struggling to remain calm after hearing of the news.”

And now that you have heard the news, your mind is also muddled. In your head, you knew this day would come. The King and Queen had been generous enough to let San wait until he was twenty-five to even think about marriage, but you knew the time would come soon enough. So then, why does your heart hurt?

You struggle to keep your face impassive as your hands grip your heavy skirt. “I see. That’s great news, I understand your parents have been trying to increase the size of their kingdom and now’s a great chance for them to.” You quickly turn away and open the door leading to his bathroom. “Now let’s see about this bath.”

“YN.”

“Would you like lavender or rose petals? Your future wife would probably like a sweeter smell. Maybe I can send for some orange essence,” you ramble on as you turn the tap and let the warm water fill the tub. “I heard orange essence is what’s popular these days.”

“YN.”

“Do you know who she is? I wonder if she’s prettier–”

“YN!” San’s voice snaps you out of your daze, as does his hands on your shoulders. “I do not want to marry her.”

You hesitate for the slightest moment before pulling out of his grasp. “It doesn’t matter whether you want to or not,” you finally say, avoiding his eyes. “You’ll marry her.”

“Like hell I will!” San cries, reaching out for you again, but you dodge his hands this time. “I only want you, YN.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want, Sa– your highness,” you sigh, turning away again and reaching for the bath herbs, turning off the faucet while you were at it. The tub isn’t nearly full but you don’t want it to flow over in the middle of this conversation. “You’re the Crown Prince.”

“Do not do this to me, YN. Do not shut me out like this. I would give it all up for you if you just give me the word. Say you love me back and I will drop everything for you,” San begs, and you can hear him drop to his knees. You turn around, grabbing his arm and attempting to pull him to his feet. “I will grovel for you if need be, YN. I cannot bear to live without you by my side.”

“Get up, San. You can’t be on your knees for me,” you hiss. “What if someone walks in?”

San looks up at you, his eyes desperate. “Let them! I will revoke my title, my crown, and my privilege to be with you. Jongho is born to be the leader, he is a better fit for me and he’s not much younger than me either. I want you, YN, and I would do anything for you to have me to. Please.”

He stumbles to his feet, and you move back until your back hits the wall. His head drops into the crook of your neck and you can feel his desperate breaths against your skin. “YN…” your name passes through his lips in a longing whisper.

“San…” You suck in a breath, carefully carding your free hand through his hair to smooth it down. He tilts his head to peek up at your face. “I…I just don’t want to make you give up your life for me.”

Your words are enough to console San and he straightens up, his hands finding yours again as he grips them tightly. “I want to, YN. I would give up that easily, and much more for you. Please,” he repeats one more time. “I will care for you. We can run away to the edges of this country, and live a humble life. As long as I may be with you.”

You bite your lip, turning your eyes away from San again, but he does not allow that to happen, reaching up to hold your jaw gently and direct your gaze back to him.

"San..." San's breath hitches as you breathe his name, your voice barely above a whisper. You can't resist the urge to touch him, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. He leans into your touch, his eyes searching yours with a desperate longing.

"I don't want to lose you," he confesses, his voice thick with emotion. "I know it's selfish, but I can't imagine my life without you."

Your heart aches. You want to believe him, to give in to the desire that has been simmering beneath the surface for so long. But the fear of the unknown, the potential consequences, holds you back.

"San, we can't..." you begin, but he just shakes his head, cutting your words off as he captures your lips in a passionate kiss.

For a moment, you lose yourself in the sensation of his touch, the taste of his lips. It's everything you've ever wanted, yet everything you know you can't have. When you finally break apart, your breath is ragged, your cheeks flushed. San's eyes are filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

"Tell me you do not feel anything," he pleads once more, his voice barely audible.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words won't come. You can't deny the truth any longer. "I..." you begin, your voice trembling. “I care for you, San. But are you sure this is a life you’ll want to live?”

San presses his forehead against yours, his breath dancing over your parted lips. “It is, as long as you are there,” he agrees readily. With each word, he brings his face closer and closer until his soft lips are only just brushing yours. “I will gladly show you, if you will allow me.”

You laugh breathily, leaning back to try and create more room. “You still need your bath, San. The water will get cold,” you try and divert weakly, but all San does is raise an eyebrow.

“Then get in,” he hums, pressing another kiss to your lips to quiet your gasp. “Unless you want me to ravish you on my silk bedsheets. The choice is yours—if I had my way, I would do both.”

You squeak, pushing your face into his warm shoulder, feeling it rumble as he chuckles. “Fine. At least the bath will be easier to clean. Move aside, San.” With one last kiss, San steps back, his eyes practically sparkling as he looks you up and down, causing heat to bloom over your cheeks. “Turn around too,” you command.

“I am going to see you anyway,” San grumbles good-naturedly but does as you ask.

You quickly unlace your bodice, stepping out of your dress and undergarments and into the tub. The water is still warm, and you take a moment to breathe deeply. You can’t help but feel both excited and worried. After this, there’s no going back.

“Can I turn around now?” San’s warm and soothing voice brings you back from your mind.

“I– Yeah,” you agree carefully, letting yourself relax as the warm water sloshes just barely over your hips. You fully appreciate the luxury of having such a big and deep bathtub at this moment. You keep your eyes on San as he turns around, apparently having unclothed himself as you were, eyes sparkling like you’ve just gifted him all the most precious jewels in the world.

He takes slow steps towards the edge of the tub, his mouth parted ever so slightly as he takes in the view of you. “You are gorgeous,” he whispers reverently, and you swallow as you try to keep your eyes on his face and not the half-hard cock bobbing lightly against his stomach. He steps into the tub across from you, lowering himself slowly into the shallow water, his eyes still trained on your face.

You can’t stop the heat from rising to your cheeks and you avert your eyes, although San’s had quite enough of that. He scooches forward until his legs are on either side of you and one of his hands rests on your waist and the other on your cheek as he leans in to press a passionate kiss to your lips. His tongue gently prods at your lips and you let your mouth drop open ever so slightly, inviting him in.

He immediately invades your mouth, deepening the kiss until he has you gasping and moaning quietly into his mouth. “You sound so perfect,” San hums into your mouth, his hand trailing up your waist to cup your breast, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your nipple. “God, I could sit here all day and love you the way you deserve.”

“San–” you breathe out when he finally pulls away from your swollen lips, and San chuckles at how breathy you’ve gotten just from him fondling and kissing you.

Without another word, he bends down to take your unattended breast in his mouth, sucking and nipping at your sensitive nipple as you whine and your hands fly to grip his hair. “God–” you gasp, head thrown back as he bites at your soft flesh. “San, please.”

San pulls off your nipple with a pop, looking up at you with a crooked smile on his face. “Please what?” he teases. “Please eat me out? Gladly.”

Before you can say anything, he pushes his hands under your hips, lifting you until you’re seated on the tub’s lip (once again grateful for how large his bath is), and attaching his mouth to your dripping cunt. You throw a hand over your mouth to muffle your squeal as his teeth scrape gently against your folds.

His tongue is flat as he laps at your entrance, making your thighs tense and your back arch. “You taste so fucking good,” San moans against your entrance. “You are like fucking nectar, and I cannot get enough.”

Without warning, his tongue plunges deep into your hole and one of his hands moves from your hip to press against your clit. Your eyes widen, then squeeze shut as your teeth sink into your hand, trying desperately not to moan too loud. “San, please, I’m so close–” you gasp through your hand and San’s ministrations only intensify.

Your fingers dig into his scalp and your body starts to tremble as your legs squeeze around San’s head. The heat in your core burns as you can feel pleasure course through your veins and you come into San’s mouth. He doesn’t stop, licking up your slick until you’re pushing at his head and whining.

When he comes up, his chin is glistening with your release and he leans in to press his lips against yours. You can taste how bitter you are on his lips, and it only serves to make you sigh into his mouth. “Please,” you repeat, “fuck me.”

San arches a perfect brow. “Are you sure? You have just–”

Instead of gracing him with an answer, you pull him in by his shoulders and press your lips insistently against his again. “Now,” you whine and San chuckles, reaching down to stroke his cock, the tip an angry red.

“All right, whatever you want. I live for you.” Without another word, he lines himself up to your dripping pussy and pushes in. “Fuck–” he hisses more to himself than to you before capturing your lips again.

He starts slow, pushing into you carefully, but as your moans rise in pitch into his mouth, his thrusts increase in speed. It’s thick, long, and stretches you so perfectly that you fear you’ll never get enough of it. Your teeth sink into San’s lower lip and you can taste blood before he thrusts into you so perfectly that you squeal into his mouth, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

“God, you’re so fucking big,” you whine, head dropping down as you sink your teeth into his shoulder as well.

San laughs low in his throat, lifting you back off the tub and holding you in the air as his hips meet your ass, the slick noises growing louder and louder. “Filling you up so well, yeah? God, I can feel you moulding so well around me. Built to take me, take my cock until all you can say is my name.”

You nod frantically in agreement. “All yours, San– please, please, please,” you groan into his neck.

“God, you beg so much,” San hums, pleased. “Come on, show me how much you want it. Show your prince how much you love him.” He sits back in the tub, lowering you carefully until you can keep yourself upright on his lap, his length spearing deep inside of you.

It takes you a moment to start moving, San’s teeth working into his lip as he keeps himself from thrusting up into your tight heat. You start by grinding on his lap, but you can’t bring yourself to tease him too much before you fall apart. After not even a minute, you lift yourself and let yourself drop, moaning so loudly you swear everyone in the castle could hear it.

San isn’t faring any better, his hands gripping your waist as his cock twitches inside of you. It doesn’t take long for him to bite into your shoulder and groan as he spills his seed deep inside of you, the warmth filling you up. “Fuck,” you sigh, your body finally relaxing as San’s arms around your waist keep you from collapsing.

It takes a moment for the two of you to finally find the energy to move. When you get up off San’s lap, his come drips out of your sore cunt, and you laugh, shaking your head. “Come on, let’s take a proper bath and get you cleaned up,” you murmur, reaching out and turning the faucet back on. “We still need to deal with…the arrangement from your parents.”

Your voice sours on the last bit and San sighs, leaning over to give you a warm hug. “Please do not worry too much, my love,” he begs. “I will talk with Jongho. He will help us, I promise. He prefers the royal lifestyle more than I do, after all. Will you trust me?”

You bite your lip as you turn to face the man you love. “I always do,” you confirm, smiling softly at the way San’s face lights up. “I’ll follow you anywhere, my prince. My San.”

-

As your two young daughters nap inside, you step onto the porch to wrap your arms around San’s broad shoulders. “Another letter from Jongho?” you hum, pressing your cheek into his soft woollen sweater you had knitted for an anniversary gift. “What did he say this time?”

San lets his head rest upon yours. “He says Mother and Father have gotten over it, and are now just happy I am safe. He still would not tell them where I am, however, and he finds their reactions amusing.” You can hear the smile leak into his voice. “Maybe when my father finally passes his crown on to Jongho, we can let them visit. I would love for them to meet the girls.”

You smile too, tilting your head to press a kiss to his forehead. “I’m sure at that point they’ll just be happy you’ve given them grandchildren, Sanah.” You pause. “Thank you.”

San pouts, turning to properly face you. “Now, whatever are you thanking me for?”

Shrugging, you wrap your arms around his trim waist. “For giving all that up for me. I know you must miss them. And it can’t have been easy adjusting to the life I live.”

San quiets you with a gentle touch of his lips against yours. “I miss my parents, yes. I miss Jongho. But this is all I’ve ever wanted.” He pulls you in closer. “I do not wish for you to feel guilty over a choice that I made myself. To me, you’re worth more than a crown.”

[hearthandheathenry]

All About Imbolc

Imbolc, also known as Imbolg, celebrated on February 1st, marks the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox in early Ireland and Scotland, and also signified the beginning of the first signs of spring after all the harsh winter days. Originally a pagan holdiay in pre-Christian times, there is little in writing about the historic traditions and customs, although many historians believe it revolved around the Celtic Goddess Brigid, lambing season, and cleansing due to observed ancient poetry.

Brigid is a Goddess and daughter of the father-God of Ireland, Dagda. She is associated with quite a few things depending on the sources, but universally associated with wisdom and poetry. Other associations of hers are blacksmithing, protection, domesticated animals, childbirth, fire, and healing. She was also known as a protector of the home and the family.

Once Christianity arose, it is believed that the Goddess was syncretized with the Irish Saint Brigid by Christian monks due to the many overlapping associations. This caused Imbolc to quickly turn into St. Brigids Day and the next day into Candlemas with the rising Christian popularity, enmeshing the holiday associations together.

Today, many people have mixed the traditions and melded many associations from both religious and cultural history to celebrate their own unique way. Common ways to celebrate are making a Brigid's Cross, welcoming Brigid into the home, having a feast in her honor, cleaning the home and oneself, visiting a holy well, and in some parts of the world they still hold festivals and processions carrying a representation of Brigid. Many pagans nowadays are using associations of hers and their connection with nature to create their own ways to celebrate, however, and you can absolutely celebrate however you feel called to do so.

Imbolc Associations:

Colors - white, gold or yellow, green, and blue

Food - milk, butter, cheese, seeds and grains, breads, herbs, blackberries, oat porridge, wild onion and garlic, honey

Animals - sheep and lambs, swans, cows, burrowing and hibernating animals

Items - candles, corn dolls, Brigid's cross, fires, snowdrops and white flowers, crocuses and daffodils, flower crowns

Crystals - amethyst, garnet, ruby, quartz, bloodstone

Other - lactation, birth, feasting, farm preparation, cleansing and cleaning, the sun, poetry and creative endevours, smithing, water

Ways To Celebrate Imbolc:

make a Brigid's cross

light candles

have a feast

bake bread

plan your spring garden

leave an offering for Brigid

make a corn doll

craft a flower crown

clean your home

take a cleansing bath

make something out of metal

have a bonfire

look for the first signs of spring

make your own butter or cheese

do divination work and seek wisdom

write a poem

[stevesbipanic]

Steve had always loved daisies.

A small patch of daisies had always grown just beyond the fenceline of his backyard. Protected and untouched from the clean-cut yard the Harringtons had. Steve loved to stick them in his hair, loved that when his hair was a bit longer he could fit whole bunches of them in.

The girls at school showed him how to weave them into flower crowns. He'd sit in a circle with them giggling as they wove the flowers together before dancing around the flowers in the field. One day Steve had come home with a crown still in his hair. His father made sure he learnt that daisies were for girls, he didn't go to the girls circle after that. Now Steve's crown was made of thorns and hollow popularity.

Eddie had always loved sunflowers.

His mum would keep a big vase of them on the windowsill. Big and yellow and bright, a beacon of love through the gloom of Eddie's childhood home. His mother would take him to the sunflower field every weekend to pick new ones. She showed him how to roast the seeds to eat and helped him find sunflowers bigger than him.

When she died, Eddie visited the sunflower field as often as he could, picking flowers to bring to her grave. The day Wayne took him in was the last day he left her some. There were no sunflower fields in Hawkins.

Those young boys were older now.

Together they sat in a field down the hill from where Dustin was calling Suzie. Eddie's head laid in Steve's lap, softly dozing as his boyfriend ran his finger through his curls. After awhile he realised Steve had stopped and so he looked up at him, blinking at the sunlight. Steve's face was punched in concentration as he finished weaving together the pile of daises he'd picked from around them.

"What've you got there, Stevie?"

"I made you a flower crown," Steve said smiling softly as he placed the crown on Eddie's head.

"I'm King of the Flowers, don't think I'll be beating those gay allegations anytime soon, sweetheart."

Steve giggled and smiled down at Eddie as he began to play with his hair again. Turns out Eddie was wrong, there was one sunflower in Hawkins, and he was the prettiest one of all.

[city-of-ladies]

Kōmyō (701-760), born Asukabehime, was Empress Consort of Japan. A highly influential figure, she played a key role in the spread of Buddhism and undertook numerous philanthropic projects.

The Empress Consort

Kōmyō was the daughter of the powerful courtier Fujiwara no Fuhito. In 716, she married the future Emperor Shōmu, who would later succeed his aunt, Empress Regnant Genshō.

Kōmyō was not only a skilled calligrapher but also a devout Buddhist. Both her father and grandfather were instrumental in making Buddhism the religion of the Fujiwara clan. Her mother, Tachibana no Michiyo, also took religious vows.

In 718, Kōmyō gave birth to a daughter, Princess Abe (718-770), who would later reign as Empress Kōken/Shōtoku. In 727, she had a son, but he died shortly after birth. The Fujiwara family used this loss to accuse their political rival, Prince Nagaya, of having used black magic to curse the child. This led to Nagaya's suicide.

In 729, Kōmyō was elevated to the title of Empress Consort, or kōgō, securing her position as Shōmu’s principal wife and ensuring her daughter’s place as first in line for the throne.

By 738, Abe was officially named Crown Princess—the only instance in Japanese history of a woman receiving this title. Kōmyō likely played a significant role in securing this appointment, using Buddhist teachings to bolster Abe’s legitimacy.

Kōmyō had her own Palace Agency, with a staff as large as those of other major government offices, allowing her to use these resources in support of her causes.

Empress Kōmyō's calligraphy and signature

Protector and patron

Kōmyō was likely a key figure in the establishment of Nara’s Todai-ji temple. She established with her husband a network of government-sponsored temples for monks and nuns. Her household employed craftsmen to build temples, sculpt religious images, and scribes to copy sacred texts. Among these texts was the Lotus Sutra, a scripture highly valued by women, as it could be interpreted to suggest that women too could achieve enlightenment.

Kōmyō also cared for orphans, lepers, the poor, and those affected by war. She established a hospital that provided free medicine to those who couldn't afford it.

She transformed her father’s residence into a convent for nuns, known as Hokke-ji. She encouraged the women there to practice ikebana, or flower arranging, and the Hokke-ji Goryū school of Ikebana still exists today.

After her husband's abdication in 749, Kōmyō took the tonsure and became a nun, witnessing her daughter ascend the throne. She passed away in 760.

Kōmyō became a popular subject in art, with many legends surrounding her. In one famous tale, she washes a leper, who is later revealed to be the Buddha himself. She has since been venerated as an embodiment of Kannon, the Bodhisattva of compassion. Today, the nuns of Hokke-ji continue her legacy by creating Braille texts for the blind and making amulets for pregnant women.

Feel free to check out my Ko-Fi. I'm about to launch my own business so your support would be much appreciated in these trying times!

Further reading: 

Ambros Barbara, Women in Japanese religions

Lowe Bryan, Ritualized Writing: Buddhist Practice and Scriptural Cultures in Ancient Japan

Kane Robinson Arai Paula, Women Living Zen Japanese Soto Buddhist Nuns

Ooms Herman, Imperial Politics and Symbolics in Ancient Japan The Tenmu Dynasty

Schireson Grace, Zen Women Beyond Tea Ladies, Iron Maidens, and Macho Masters

[braxlrose]

Heyy i LOVE your writing your my of my favs writers

was wondering if u could do like hc of tom with a reader like childhood bffs to dating only if you can ❤

a/n: i love this trope so much so im so glad someone requested! imo it's one of the best and cutest tropes to ever exist. it's actually the one I'm using for my DR 💀 this is also kind of like a pt 2 for this post except with Tom instead of bill and there's not much mentioned of georg and gustav

childhood friends to lovers w/ tom

tom x fem!reader

• you met tom and bill when your mom moved you to Loitsche when you were 5 years old, right next to tom and bills house. their mother met yours when their mother went over to introduce herself to you guys. that's when she mentioned that she had a daughter the same age as her sons.

• that night, your mom brought you over there for dinner and you played with Tom and Bill. you guys had tons of fun and ended up becoming great friends that night.

• after that, you guys hung out every day and hung out at school. you were their new bestfriend and as I mentioned in this post, you helped them switch back and forth and confuse the teachers.

• the teachers were already used to their antics but with you, it just got worse and more complex. your mom scolded you a ton and ever had a fight with Tom and Bills mom because you kept getting into trouble but there was nothing they could do to stop you guys from hanging out.

• it was really hard to tell them apart when they were younger so you got relieved as they got older and started to have their own style

• you guys went bike riding all the time together and would ride for hours doing random shit

• you, bill, and tom would always go to the pet store to see all the cute little animals

• you would pick flowers for bill and make him a flower crown and even know tom refuses to admit it, he wishes you made him one too.

• both bill and tom were very over protective of you, but tom mostly. if he ever found out that anybody hurt you in anyway, he'd be pissed.

• you went trick or treating with bill and tom every year. (even though it wasn't too popular yet in the 90s in Germany)

• sharing and switching candy with them was a must

• you and tom were a bit closer than you and bill but you were still friends with both of them. it's not like you had a choice anyways.

• you always slept in toms bed whenever slept over (which was pretty much almost every night) and you two were always cuddling.

• bill and tom had bunk beds, so whenever you slept over you guys would put blankets around the edge of the top bunk and then tell scary stories

• you guys would sneak onto the ice cream truck and steal as much as you could. you'd always end up puking after because of how much you ate.

• you and tom would sit next to eachother every time in class and whine whenever you two had to move or got told to move because you guys were talking

• tom has a massive sweet tooth and you guys would steal stuff from the corner store

• you, bill and tom would hang out at the pool tons.

• you and tom would practice playing guitar allllll the time

• you were apart of the original "band" and played for weddings and other gigs with them

• you helped their mom bake a cake for their birthday every year and you always had so much fun with her. she even taught you how to write their names on a cake

• you went cd shopping with Tom for new cds and other old cds he didn't have.

• when tom had his first kiss (WITH A 16 YR OLD GIRL AT 9 YEARS OLD 😨😨😨) you didn't really know what to feel. you weren't even sure what you were feeling but you didn't like that he was kissing another girl

• you never said anything though, what could you even say?

• you and tom started out as just friends, no feelings at all not until you guys were pre-teens.

• as you guys grew older, tom and bill started getting girlfriends. you never dated anybody though; mostly because of your insanely massive crush on Tom.

• you basically just pined for him while he dated other girls. but you did feel nice sometimes. you got to see the side of him other girls didn't. you got to see how sweet and fun and nice he was with you. he was always different with you and if any girl had a problem with that, he'd drop them immediately.

• you got to sleep in his bed and cuddle with him and stay up late and hang out with him 24/7. they didn't get to do that, you did. and that gave you a sense of security.

• when the band started to actually become a band and you guys started getting more gigs, you and tom would always play next to eachother and even created your own style of playing with eachother

• you helped tom pick out his red guitar

• you and tom also have matching stickers on your guitars

• whenever girls flirted with Tom, you'd always get jealous and sometimes even try and steer tom away from them. like if they started flirting, you'd come up to tom and say "we need to get to band practice" or "Bill needs you for something" etc. etc.

• after a while, you'd come to the conclusion you just weren't his type and he'd never have feelings for you like you did for him.

• when tom first told you guys he lost his virginity, your heart dropped. tom, your tom, lost his virginity. you wanted to cry but you couldn't, they wouldn't get it, they wouldn't understand. so you just laughed along with the guys and make jokes.

• when durch den monsun came out, more and more girls were all over tom. but at this point, you'd gotten used to it. when you realized how many girls he was sleeping with, you just shoved all your feelings down and locked them away. feelings would ruin your friendship, right?

• your hotel room was right next to toms so you could hear basically everything they were doing. it was absolute torture. why couldn't tom see your feelings, why didn't he feel the same way?

• tom treated you like a little sister. it was awful. you wanted to cry everytime he called you dude or bro. he would never call you baby, or babe, or sexy. like he does other girls. he'd never see you like that.

• when you guys are at clubs, you try your best not to watch him flirt with other girls. it's easier that way. but along with that, you just end up getting drunk.

• tom would come running into your room at like 11 pm at night asking you for a condom. this became routine, and over time your heart shattered a little bit less only because you'd gotten used to this. used to him liking other girls.

• one night, while you guys were out at a club. you got sloppy. when you were drinking you ended up stumbling over to tom and dragging him to another room. and that's where you confessed to him down you were feeling.

• you ended up bawling your eyes out and saying how stupid it was because you know he'd never feel the same and that he doesn't want a serious relationship but you couldn't "help how you feel".

• tom took you back home that night and cuddled you and rubbed your back until you fell asleep. little did you know he felt the exact same way about you...

edit: I'm super tired and wanna go to bed, but let me know if you want dating headcanons for this bc I will do it, I'm just so tired.

taglist: @hearts4kaulitz @burntb4bydoll @spelaelamela @bored0writer @fishinaband @billsleftnutt @tokiiohot @bluepoptartwithsprinkles @saumspam @5hyslv7 @killed-kiss @memog1rl @80s-tingz @billybabeskaulitz @victryzvv9 @banshailey

[ecoterrorist-katara]

The only stereotypically masculine thing about Aang…is his romantic arc

There’s a really popular post on Tumblr called “Avatar Aang, Feminist Icon.” The thesis is basically that Aang, unlike his female teachers and friends, is actually not a badass. He listens, he defers, and he respects women. He seemed to have no problem with Katara’s crush on Jet, despite his own crush on her. He chooses love and kindness and friendship and pacifism. He’s not tall and handsome as hell or buff. He wears flower crowns!

And I agree! This is Aang for most of the series and I love those qualities (though I do think the bar is in hell if those traits make a character a feminist icon, as opposed to a person who simply sees women as human beings). Anyway, I just think there’s a glaring omission. And that’s Aang’s romantic arc in season 3.

Bryke managed to take the worst of both worlds: Aang’s romantic arc retains the male-centricity that make most romances so problematic, while retaining none of the characteristics that make problematic romances compelling to women.

Aang falls in love at first sight with a beautiful girl. For the majority of their friendship, he remains respectful and supportive. As his crush hits an all time high, however, it gets distinctly more stereotypical: he kisses Katara at the invasion, and when she didn’t want to talk about that kiss, he firebends at her (the fact that this comic is canon, and was published years after ATLA’s conclusion, only demonstrates that the creators still don’t understand critiques of their romance). Aang considers Katara “his girl” and becomes furious (“I would be in the Avatar state right now!”) when the actress version of Katara didn’t like him romantically, and then he kisses her again — this time explicitly against her wishes. Throughout the show, people reassure him that she will come around, continuously reinforcing the idea that Katara is “his” and he just has to be patient. And even though Ka/taang is supposed to be endgame, we never hear directly from Katara how she feels, even though we’re no strangers to her opinions and feelings on other topics. It’s almost like the creators wanted Katara’s feelings to be a mystery because we’re meant to resonate with Aang. That’s…a male-centric, action hero romance.

In addition, the friendship dynamics between Katara and Aang feel pretty gendered. The distribution of emotional labour between Aang and Katara is quite skewed: Katara takes care of Aang much more than he takes care of her. She’s the one responsible for calming him down from the Avatar State. She’s the one who cooks for him and performs a whole lot of domestic chores. Post-canon, Katara’s storyline revolves around Aang, and she’s treated as his accessory and the keeper of his legacy instead of her own person, to the degree that she’s not even recognizable in LOK anymore. A beautiful, badass, independent woman who dedicates her energy and intelligence to a man’s needs? Wow, that is definitely something I’ve never seen in media geared towards men!

A lot of gushing about Aang’s lack of stereotypical masculinity seems to also hinge on how Aang is not conventionally attractive, but that’s…not true. Aang may not behave like James Bond, but he has plenty of admirers. Meng and On Ji liked him even without knowing that he’s the Avatar. Post-series, Acolytes descend en masse to steal Katara’s man. And of course he grows into a tall, buff dude. Aang’s romantic arc is not about becoming attractive to women, or finding a woman who loves him despite his looks. His romantic arc is about getting the girl who’s hard to get, because she only sees him as a friend or a little brother / babysitting charge.

Bryke do not deserve the credit for creating a “feminist icon,” not when the only stereotypically masculine traits they gave him are in relation to his romance arc. It honestly feels more insidious this way, because it’s like, “see? You don’t have to be masculine to reap the benefits of performing masculinity” — the benefits being, of course, “getting” the girl you want.

[fili-urzudel]

Hello!! Could you do 14, 15 and 31 with Fili? Romantic or platonic, up to you. Thank you 💜

13. Sitting together

14. Handholding

15. Sharing a blanket (potentially violent)

31. Stargazing

This combination is classic and oh-so-fluffy, and with my favorite Dwarf to boot! I went ahead and added another prompt as well.

Everyone lives AU, because there is no other ending in my mind.

BTW I'm sick :( but I'm going to try to get at least one other prompt request out this week

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.8k

Moonrise - Fíli Durin x Reader

The Durin's Day festival was always fun, but it was all the more spectacular in the newly reclaimed Erebor.

"The first autumn equinox since the mountain was reclaimed, can you believe it?" Fíli said with a bright smile, looking with pride at the crisscrossing bridges and vaulted ceilings of the entrance to the mountain. There was still plenty of work to be done, to be sure, but its improvement was impressive regardless.

"And in a couple days, the anniversary of when it was reclaimed," you nodded in agreement. "A few months after that, the anniversary of the first time you walked around by yourself."

"Hush, I'm trying to enjoy this," Fíli gave you a fake scowl, unconsciously probing the scar hidden beneath his tunic.

You changed directions. "Of course, my Prince," you teased. "You look very nice today."

You meant it. His hair was freshly washed, the slightly damp strands frizzing out in the cool morning air. Each bead was carefully placed, a few decorative gold ones added in place of a crown. His tunic was a smooth yet understated silk underneath his leather vest and wool coat. Every detail was precisely placed, the burnt oranges and browns blending seamlessly. He had clearly been seen to with the utmost care. He looked like royalty, even without the royal garb. Most importantly, he was healthy.

His smile softened, his cheeks turning a bit pink under his mustache. "Thank you," he glanced to the ground before looking back up at you. "And you're beautiful as ever."

You blushed deeper than him, unused to compliments. You plucked at the placket of your own wool coat, dyed a deep woad blue. It was your favorite. "Thank you," you said, choosing for once to believe him. "What duties do you have today?"

"None, surprisingly," Fíli breathed. "Thorin's let me have a break, so I can enjoy the first festival in our new home right alongside you." Something about that little word, our, set your heart ablaze. "You want to stick with me?"

"If you'll have me," he smiled again. That smile was impossible to resist.

"Of course I will."

Erebor had been steadily growing over the past year, but that day, it seemed more alive than ever. The market squares were full, overflowing into the wide side streets. Jewelry, blades, shields, ceramics, sculptures--anything made out of earth or in forges were certainly found somewhere in the expansive space. The Ereborian dwarves' tentative friendship with the Men of Dale caused new, less traditional stands to pop up as well: flower stalls, street food vendors featuring fish dishes, and clothing and homeware shops full of bolts of linen. The mountain had only dwarves—and Bilbo—in its halls, a presently rare occurrence, and so you were all free to speak Khuzdul, the sharp sounds ringing pleasantly in your ears.

The two of you strolled as quickly as possible through all the markets had to offer, determined not to miss the afternoon's performances. You exercised exemplary self-restraint, only stopping at one of every five stalls that caught your eye.

"No," became a very popular word as well, what with resisting Fíli's unceasing offers to purchase anything you liked.

"Well, if you will not spend any of your share of the treasure, I must spend some of mine and relieve what must be the terrible, stifling boredom of your living quarters, my friend," he teased, mustache beads swinging from side to side.

"I will have no prince wasting his money on me."

"Oh, it's never a waste if it's you," Fíli told you surely.

There he went again, saying things that made your palms sweat and your cheeks flush. "You're too kind."

Fíli smirked at the way you diverted your gaze. "Well, if I cannot buy you a rug, at least allow me to buy you lunch," he gestured to a permanent restaurant on the corner that was swarmed with dwarrow.

You couldn't help a smile at that. "Hot stew?" You asked, referring to the almost overpoweringly spicy meat-and-potato stew that was a dwarven classic. Benron's was your favorite.

"As hot as you like, of course," He agreed, guiding you forward with a gentle hand on your back.

The stew made your eyes stream in the best way, and you pulled Fíli out of the restaurant scarcely once he was finished eating. "We have to find good seats!" You reasoned as he raised an eyebrow, still wiping his mouth.

"You do realize that Thorin has the best seats, and by extension, we do as well?"

"Right," you said. You had forgotten. Somehow, none of the Durins were royalty in your mind. They were still your traveling companions, dirt poor and looked at as crazy.

"Still, it is sort of nice to take a seat before everyone starts filtering in and it gets too loud," Fíli reassured you. "After you."

The grand presentation began with a song to the mountain. In the ancient tradition, singing was a way to ask the mountain to reveal its secrets, a careful gathering of tones that would uncover its nature.

This song, however, was made more to please the ears of the listener. It was a song of thanks, of hardly believing that this mountain was once again the shelter for her people. You tried your best to control the tears that rose to your eyes.

Fíli leaned over, bumping your shoulder with his. You gave a small smile that he returned, and you could see in his eyes that he was thinking of all that it took to get there.

"We did it," you whispered.

"Yeah, we did."

The opening songs were followed by traditional dances, a speed-forging competition, and a few spars. You cheered on the brothers as they fought each other, with a healthy dose of brotherly teasing. Fíli let his little brother win, or so he told you. The look on Kíli's face was more than worth it. You congratulated him and let them both clean up as you headed to the gates.

The gates were still open, cool air pouring into the mountain as the sun dropped in the sky.

Dale was dimmer than usual—the city was empty. The men were lining the edge of the water with candles. This equinox now also marked the anniversary of the fall of Laketown and many of their loved ones. The dwarves tried their best to be respectful of their vigil.

You leaned against the wall and watched. You hoped they found peace and remembered to enjoy their new lives. Bard, standing at the back of the group, turned around. He caught your eye and nodded.

"Come with me, I think we should see something," Fíli's low whisper startled you from your reverie, and his hand wrapping around yours even more so.

"Where are we going?" You asked, not that it mattered. With his hand in yours, you'd probably follow him anywhere.

He led you on a trek around the front of the mountain, the setting sun turning everything orange and making his hair appear as flames as you went.

Caught in the daze of bliss, it took you a while to notice what was draped over his other arm. "Wait, is that—I told you not to buy that!"

It was the woven blanket you had noticed earlier, the tapestry depicting sunrays falling through a thick forest of firs. "And what if I bought this for myself? I have uses for it."

"Then it's alright, I suppose."

"You can keep it once I'm done with it, though."

"Sly fox."

"Coin pincher."

"Seriously, though, where are we going?" You asked.

Fíli smiled at you. "A certain very large staircase."

You gasped. "Leading to a secret doorway?"

"The very same. I figured, since we were both trying to help Kili, erm, not die, we missed the excitement, and now we can see it for ourselves."

"That's extraordinarily thoughtful of you."

"Eh, I'd say averagely thoughtful at best," Fíli shrugged.

"Perfectly suitable for me," you told him.

"Good."

The achingly long trip up the staircase was rewarded with a very nice sight: another, less decorative blanket spread across the stone, a couple flat pillows, and three lanterns, already lit and ready to face the darkness.

"When did you find time to do this?" You asked Fíli, grinning from ear to ear.

"I have my ways," he said mysteriously. "And help."

"That's where Bofur, Bilbo, and Dori disappeared to," you observed. "I see. Well, it's very sweet of all of you."

"I'm glad you think so," Fíli said, still holding your hand as he guided you to sit on the blanket with him.

The stairs had taken longer than anticipated, so the sun was already almost gone. You quieted as you realized how close the time was. The two of you watched in quiet admiration as the moon rose, bright and perfect, into the sky, before you turned, hoping to catch a glimpse of the door.

You gasped. "There it is!" The moonrise revealed the shape of a perfectly hidden keyhole. "That is very neat, indeed."

"Mmhm," Fíli agreed. "Beautiful." The keyhole was not what he thought was beautiful. He wasn't actually looking at the door at all, but rather you, and the way the moonlight reflected off every spectacular detail of your face.

He had never known quite when he started to feel this way, only that he didn't in the Blue Mountains, when he barely knew you, and he did now.

You turned your gaze from the keyhole once the wonder had made a comfortable space in your heart, and looked to the stars, all too aware of how close Fíli was.

You read out the constellations to yourself in the comfortable silence, assuming the prince was doing the same. You then heard him shift.

"Lay with me," Fíli offered, and you turned around in record time, cheeks blazing and eyes wide.

"What?"

He was already lying down with his head on one of the pillows. "To watch the stars more comfortably."

"Alright," you said, voice quiet. You scooted down until you could lay your head on the other pillow, before changing your mind. You decided to take a risk and settle your head on his chest instead.

"Is this alright?" You asked immediately. The last thing you wanted was for him to be uncomfortable in this situation.

"Of course it is," he said softly, his arm raising to hold your waist. "I enjoy being close to you."

It wasn't quite a grand confession, but it was good enough for your heart to begin hammering in your chest. "I enjoy being close to you, too."

[twstfanblog]

Sooooo why are they still together? Crewel and Crowley I mean. Like they don’t love each other and clearly go from hating each other with the passion of the sun to I’ll tolerate you as long as you don’t come within X feet of me.

Crewel and Crowley stay together for the same reasons they got together, their own selfish reasons.

Crowley married Crewel because he was a highly respected socialite who was the heir of the empire's greatest textile manufacturer. He only became more popular as he started designing outfits for his other high-class 'friends'.

Crowley, now the Grand Duke of the empire, knows he'll have to deal with the more social part of the title; things he's been avoiding in his own pursuit of gaining knowledge. So he basically marries the flower of high society so that he doesn't HAVE TO. Through Crewel, he's basically playing with high society and gaining connections he's not able to since he isn't too social of a man with people he doesn't think could give him anything he wants.

Crewel married Crowley for the money and power, pretty cut and dry. Is he a duke? Yes. Does he already have high society in the palm of his hand? Yes. Does he still want more? YES. Why just be a duke when he can be a GRAND DUKE. Because of his late adopted brother's marriage, Crowley is literally only second to the actual crown of the empire. It's an easy choice to a status climber like Crewel.

Yuu gets the short end of the stick because she was made to further her dad's agendas. Though, luckily, they end up adoring her so Yuu's feelings end up influencing their actions as she gets older.

While they stay married mainly so that their precious baby isn't upset, they mainly stay for their own selfish reasons. Crewel stays married to Crowley because if they divorced, Crowley could get married and have another child. Giving him another choice to leave his title to. Crowley stays married to Crewel because he's very interested in how Yuu doesn't have magic but comes from two powerful mages. He's kind of studying her since he believes her lack of magic will give way to an even more impressive talent.

They only realized how much they disliked each other after Crewel agreed to marry Crowley. But by then. they had already set the date and they weren't going to back down.

[holybibly]

Divine Rosa  ❢ot8xreader❣ 

❣ Pairing: yandere!otx8 x reader

❣ Genre: Dark Romance, vampire au, angst, horror, yandere au, smut

❣ Word Count: 10.1k

❣ Summary: The moth always pours itself into the flame; what a pity that in the end it burns out. After the tragic death of her sister, MС tries to find answers to the questions she left behind. This leads her to a gated cottage town known for its luxurious rose gardens. In addition, there are also these mysterious men who manage all the affairs in the city. Too sweet, too helpful, too intrusive, and too in love.

❣ WARNING: only!18+ Themes of death, suicide, severe depression, stalking, blood, yandere behavior.

❣ Disclaimer: I don't support yandere behavior, stalking, or religious imposition. Themes include violence, obsession, possessiveness, and emotional or psychological manipulation. This book is intended solely for entertainment purposes.

❣ Chapter 1: Memento Mori ❣

Have you ever thought about death?

How many times have you asked yourself, “What will happen to us next?” “Is there something on the other side?” “Will we see the shining light at the end of the tunnel and the white-winged angels, or is it just darkness waiting for us?”

We constantly reflect on this, sitting in the noisy company of friends, frozen for a moment in cold numbness; late at night, when there is no sleep and gloomy thoughts creep into your head; on the subway, bus, or taxi returning home from work or school, desperately understanding the desperation of their situation; recurring days in endless solitude.

We should stop doing that. When the time comes, we will ask ourselves other, more important questions.

Nevertheless, we tirelessly continue to be interested in it. Again and again, until our clock stops.

Sometimes I think all we have after we die are flowers and regrets. In our soul, heart, and mind, every second, there are many events that do not obey any rules of formal logic. All that we lose at death. There is no longer the privilege of choice that we had in life; now we have to settle for small, choking on despair and memories, staring into our own reflection on a silver epitaph.

“Our love will stay with her forever.” It would sound like a dream if it weren’t such a dirty lie.

I don’t think love exists. It’s like a sweetener: we feel sweetness, but the brain realizes it's fake, sending out red signals warning of deception. But we still desperately crave this feeling, however painful it may be.

And yet, after death, our lives go on, and in some special cases, we find ourselves more alive than ever before.

It's our time to watch as the new story unfolds, and the usual roles are played by other actors. New names appear on the waiting list, and celebratory ribbons are given to the new queens. See how fake diamonds sparkle in their luxurious crowns. Despite that, you’re the star of this show. Your name is in the news, in the bold headlines on the front pages of newspapers, and every casual passer-by claims to have known you personally while you still existed in a small, closed time period called life.

So what does it feel like to be the only spectator in the front row? The main subject of general regret.

In our cooled consciousness, a sharp conviction of our own uselessness is born and settles. Friends we used to call the best put your stuff in boxes with ribbons of tape. A family that tears the remnants of your life apart, erasing your name from the family register with a sickeningly straight line of black ink. Acquaintances and colleagues, always smiling with an astringent sweetness that glues their teeth, easily remove your number from the contact list and open their palms in a welcoming gesture to those who came to take your place.

All of them, all these people close to us, express their false regrets about your untimely departure, putting a tick in front of the memorized phrase: “Ah, we are so sorry. She was young and beautiful.” Is that what they usually say?

That’s all; our race for popularity is over. The rules of good manners and standards of appearance no longer matter. Your thoughts, actions, and preferences belong only to you, and at this very moment, we feel freedom. Short time, but still freedom.

It is only a short moment until the lid of the coffin closes completely over us. And here we are, face to face with our past, alone.

As hard as it may be for us to admit it, it's true. All that remains for us after death is regret.

Each of us has our own. Someone feels regret for the love that he could not protect and the loved ones that he has lost forever. We regret the things we’ve done and the words we haven’t said, but most of all, we regret the time we’ll never get back.

The dead mourn more than the living.

Besides regrets, we’re taking flowers with us. Yes, these beautiful creatures are leaving with us to one day wrap around our bones, sever the grayish subtlety of our skin, and grow again above the ground, eating us like a parasite. 

The flowers also symbolize the grand finale of our celebration. When the music dies down and the curtain falls, they will be the only ones who will stay side by side while the guests leave the lavishly decorated hall one by one.

Have you noticed how many bouquets are brought to cemeteries?

I like to think of it as a peculiar payment for our rest. Maybe death is as in love with these deliciously fragile things as we are, and that’s why they’re leaving with us. Silent companions who hold our hand as we go into the darkness.

The path to the origins of the great Sanzu River is paved with bloody lycoris and mournful lilies. Truly a magnificent sight. Ugly and beautiful are two sides of the same coin.

When I was little, Mina told me many different stories. Some warmed my cheeks and stretched my lips in a happy smile; others were gray, like days with incessant downpours. I wrapped myself in blankets and warmed my palms with warm cups of herbal tea, but there were other stories that I didn't want to remember until now.

They were sinister, like a spider hovering on a web waiting to be sacrificed. The words were sharp; they pierced the skin, leaving long, stinging wounds. Meaning has always been terrible; like a blade in the tongue, it could not be swallowed and understood. I was afraid. I was scared to death. I could not sleep in the light of a bright day or in the mist of a starry night; in the coziness of the blankets, there was no warmth or protection, and the mocking laughter of Mina made it worse.

My grandmother scolded her and assured me that all this was nonsense, empty words, and legends formed from idleness, but I knew better. There was truth in Mina's stories, and the realization of this only made them scarier.

The most terrible of them was the story of a young man in black silk robes. Beneath the black veil was a sensual smile, and the fox's heterochromic eyes were alluring and sparkling like stars.

Was he a nine-tailed kumiho? A black reaper holding death itself on a leash? He may have been a vampire, desperate and thirsty, but personally, I was sure he was a ghost. A past woven into a single canvas, thread by thread, stitch by stitch. I think I saw him once, during the Lunar Festival. He was the center of my little universe, the otherworldly and inexplicable, his long black clothes flowing to the ground like a waterfall, and the diffused light of the treacherous moon embraced his silhouette like a caring mother’s embrace.

I thought the world was dancing around him. The children were running around laughing and circling like butterflies in the round dance; the couple were whispering nicely, their palms intertwined tightly, as if it would save them from the inevitable parting; and the others were simply enjoying the festival time, waiting for the sheaves of colorful fireworks to explode in the sky.

His eyes pierced my figure so greedily and sharply. I saw hunger in them. A thirst. A goal. 

And then I screamed. So loud and disgusting in a childish way. With a shrill screech, I rushed into the crowd, hoping to find Mina. The colorful ribbons in my hair rushed into the air, and the wind bore me the echoes of his sweet laughter.

He was mocking me. I could have run, but he could have caught me in a second if he wanted to. For a moment, I looked back to make sure that he was still standing there, covered with moonlight and a myriad of stars, but the long, flowing silk of his black robes melted like a mist in the night without leaving a trace.

Mina laughed mockingly as I clung to the lush skirts of her violaceous hanbok, sobbing, choking with tears, and pointing my finger in the direction where I saw the young man with the fox’s eyes.

After that incident, I didn’t sleep for days, couldn’t eat, and was afraid of every noise.

From that night on, I began to believe in ghosts. They are among us. We can see them, reach them, and hear their whispering voices. Science cannot explain them; they are not subject to it. They are mistakenly called fictions, twisted forms of memories that acquire real outlines and are indistinguishable from the real world.

Science calls it imagination; I call it another form of life. Ghosts exist. They’re always there.

The line between the dead and the living is thin and fragile. If you push it a little harder, it’ll shatter.

It’s true—life after death exists.

I was told once that death is like being submerged in water. First, the lungs start to burn from a lack of oxygen; the body gets heavier; the eyes are baking, but we’re still conscious; and the brain continues to function. Then comes the next step. Our body desperately clings to life, continuing to contract the heart muscle. Bam, bam, bam. Deaf blows on the rib. If you start acting now, there is little hope of salvation. No more than a minute. And then, after that, there’s the final stage. Clinical death. Smooth stripe on the monitor.

Our sinking is over. We have reached the bottom. We have met eternity in the muddy depths, blended with the muddy sand and pearls.

That may be true, but for me, death is no more than a moment—until the last flowers on the grave fade.

I never thought about dying. Until it happens to Mina.

The first time I met death, it was with my first breath. I was born with silence—too small, too fragile, and painfully quiet.

Then there were the piercing sounds of medical devices and the screams of doctors and assistants. I was taken away instantly and carried far into the sterile, transparent box. Death retreated, but it didn’t go away.

I was only three when my parents died. Mina was squeezing my hands and talking about a long journey. Grandma took us to her old country house, where secrets were hidden and hyacinths blossomed. At the time, the very concept of grief was not clear and tangible to me; rather, the feeling was like frostbite, when the skin was already dead, but the pain was absent.

So I knew death before I even knew it.

My grandmother died suddenly. Her life was cut short in an instant, like a thread brought to the flame. I knew it; it seemed long before it happened. That summer, I was going to be at a ballet camp, and Mina was the star of the school, and she was planning on spending time with her cheerleading friends. Just one call changed all our plans. Short skirts and ballet points replaced chrysanthemums and black ribbons. Mina was grieving, taking condolences, while I watched from the sidelines. Grandma's leaving seemed like a dull pain from an old injury rather than a sharp cut, and it was easier to deal with than I thought.

This was the third time I'd known death.

And then Mina happened.

The passionate, bloody, grandiose Mina's death. By closing my eyes, I could see her face again. White, sun-drenched, and blood roses, her long fluttering eyelashes, and scattered carmine strands of hair.

She was not at all afraid to die, as if this scenario had been memorized by her. Isn't it an innate instinct, a fear of the unknown, of death? We are frightened by monsters under the bed and horrors lurking in dark corners. We must be afraid of death. We are obliged to do this from the very moment we are born.

Mina was not afraid. She was never afraid of anything, unlike me.

Spiders, darkness, roses…

The list goes on.

When she died, I realized two things: one, nothing lasts forever, and two, I wanted to know what happened to my sister and what became her trigger. Big red button. At my request, an autopsy was conducted to rule out a drug-induced hypothesis that could have caused mental and emotional distress. Forensics found nothing in her lungs except rose petals. Mina literally breathed flowers. It sounded almost fantastical to me. Even her death was beautiful. Forever the first violin in the orchestra. 

The case of her mysterious disappearance was closed. There was no point in looking for someone who was already dead. I asked the detectives to continue the investigation, but despite my desperate pleas, the police were adamant. My sister’s once-radiant life was packaged in a pair of cardboard boxes with a large-scale signature in black marker. “An Mina, case 117”. With each passing day, everything about Mina sank into darkness, but the mysteries and secrets around her only grew larger.

Once upon a time, I could call Mina an open book. It was easy to read—all the emotions, character traits, and habits—everything in it was exaggerated; there was no middle. Her love was never a simple hobby; it was always sharp, risky, and passionate.

Perhaps that is why she so easily fell into an obsession with roses; her feelings took a dangerous path.

I wanted to know who gave her these fabulous roses, who sent her candy and little sweet notes. There was something wrong with all of this, and not just the fact that the lush pink buds didn’t fade. No. It was a feeling, something very ominous, like a calm before a hurricane. A frightening, unnatural silence when all is silent and the air is gathering in front of the thunder's stunning storms.

There’s a long, unrequited tranquility on the other side of the phone line.

In the Japanese language, there is the expression “koi no yokan,” which literally means the feeling of inevitable love for the person you first met. This is not love at first sight, but a premonition of future love. So it was with these roses; they were not evil as such, but they were the inevitable omen of his coming.

True evil does not come in the form of a little red man with sharp horns and a long tail. Evil is beautiful—almost religiously magnificent. His appearance is divine and seductive, attracting the sweetness of the forbidden. Of course, the Devil himself was once an angel. And not just anyone; he was God’s favorite.

So are these flowers. I’ve never heard of people falling in love with soft petals and spiny stems. No one ever sings strange prayers for roses and dedicates his life to them without a trace. Those roses were bigger than they looked.

I think that Mina’s death was not accidental; it wasn’t suicide. Something broke her, violated her mind, and eventually destroyed her. Whether they were roses or people who gave them, that was my question. It was a secret hidden in the white folds of her lace dress, the dreamy smiles, and the names she spoke with such awe.

During Mina's funeral, I was approached by one of the lawyers who handled her legal affairs. I had to sort out the property rights and the lots of pages with numbers, dates, and places. Mina left me not only secrets but also a great legacy. As it turned out, in addition to our common apartment, she had several other assets in her possession, including her grandmother's mansion, which at one time she received as a sole inheritance, shares in various companies, and investments abroad.

I am now the sole owner of all this.

I had no idea where to start looking for answers or where to find the keys to the secret locks. Maybe I can find something in her files between the lines and the capital letters, or maybe it’s all dry formalities. So, going to the lawyer sounded like a good start to me.

How many can hide from those who command our last will?

Even so, I didn't want to be alone with Mina's secrets if I could find something in her belongings. I decided to call Soomin, who was once Mina’s best friend, the closest, to be exact. She was always there, having fun and crying with Mina, supporting and comforting when needed. Soomin was an integral part of her life. My life.

After the incident with the roses, they split up, not on the best of terms. Their conversation completely ended, but I still continued to spend time with her, and we often went to brunch at various gourmet cafés that Soomin loved so much. She was an elite restaurateur and had great taste, not only in the interior but also in food.

In a way, she completely replaced my sister. Soomin always told me, “No orgasm can ever match a stunningly cooked fondant au chocolat”. Yeah, I could totally agree with her on that.

After dialing her number, I waited for an answer. The wait was not too long, and after the second tone, I heard the melodic voice of Soomin on the other side. “Hello” “Soomin, I'm sorry to distract you from work; can you give me a few minutes?

“Sarang? I can’t believe you finally called me. How are you feeling, honey? I’ve been really worried about you, you haven’t spoken to any of us all this time.” In her voice, there was a sincere concern that resembled a mother's. 

Soo has always been so caring and gentle. In her was the same fascinating brightness that Mina possessed, which brought them very close and became the strong foundation of their friendship, but unlike Mina, who resembled a raging forest fire, Soomin was a comforting flame of home. One was ready to destroy everything around her; the other collected ashes in beautiful vases and kept them as precious memories.

After Mina died, she was there for me when I especially needed support.

“Sorry, Soomin, I’m still trying to get over it." I sounded exhausted, even to myself. The days spent in voluntary isolation completely drained me emotionally and physically. I was the alarm of danger light for my friends. “You know, when she went missing, it was hard for me, but I was still hoping she’d come back. I convinced myself that Mina was fine and that she was enjoying life surrounded by her favorite roses.” It was the first time I had spoken openly about my feelings since Mina’s death. “I never imagined that my sister would slit her throat in front of me. I still have nightmares, Soomin, but I’m calling you for another reason, I have a little favor to ask you.”

“Sarang, you should feel like this; it’s okay. What happened to Mina traumatized you; damn it, it would have traumatized anyone if they were you. We agreed to give you time to get over it at your own pace, but when you didn’t answer our messages and calls, we started to worry. Eun Jung even offered to come to you several times; you know how she is.” She was anxious, and I understood why. “I’ll help with everything I need; just tell me how I can do it.”

“You agree too quickly, Soo.”

“Sarang, please stop. The only thing I can offer you now is my help. I can’t imagine how you’re handling all this, and if you need my help, I’ll be there for you. So stop denying me and tell me what you wanted to ask.”

“Do you remember Mina’s lawyer who approached me at the funeral? I think it’s time I met him. It’s all about inheritance and property, but there’s something else.” I started off insecure. “I want to find out who sent her those stupid roses.”

“Why?” in her voice sounded like sincere surprise. “If you were me, would you want to know how it all started?”

“Probably, but aren't you afraid? Judging by how it turned out for Mina,” she stammered for a second. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.”

“No, you’re right. Absolutely. I’m scared, and if things weren’t so messed up, maybe I would have done something different, but listen, Soomin, I have a strong feeling that I’m always missing something, and it’s bothering me.” “People don't change so dramatically, and certainly not because of the roses. You've been friends with her for so long, so you know her as well as I do, and we both understand that it's crazy to give up everything in your life for roses like that. Especially for Mina.” When I spoke my thoughts out loud, I was even more convinced that I needed answers. It really was crazy. “ She left so many secrets that I want to find a clue. I haven't told anyone, but the roses are still being sent. I received a call from the cemetery administration saying that her grave was littered with flowers, and they needed to figure out what to do with them. Not only that, but I also received several bouquets.” There was no point in hiding it anymore. If I want Soomin to help me, she needs to know about those roses that were sent to me.

“My God, Sarang, you should have told me right away. Did you talk to JiHo? This is an abnormal situation. What if you’re being chased, Sarang? I don’t know, it’s all so scary.”

“You have no idea, but I don’t think we should talk about stalking.”

“Why? Maybe it’s a stalker or serial killer; you should be careful. Please tell me JiHo is living with you now.” “First, I don’t think anyone in their right mind is going to come after me, and second, JiHo and I took a pause.”

“Did you break up?” she asked with an incredulous echo.

“I'm not sure if you can call it a breakup.”

“God, the bastard left you. I always told you he was a rare asshole and would run away at the first opportunity.”

“Soomin, let’s not talk about it, but if you want to hear it, yeah, you were right about him.” The memories of our conversation with my ex were still fresh and festering in my mind like a ball of worms.

It’s very convenient to hide behind phrases like “let’s take a break,” “you need time to figure things out,” “emotional vacation,” etcetera. No one wants to be a part of your grief. At this party, the cake belongs entirely to you.

“Okay, let’s close the JiHo thing. Tell me, do you know anything about who sent the roses? Any ideas?”

“Absolutely nothing; I’m stuck. There’s nothing that can help. No address, no sender’s name, Maybe we can find something in her files or stuff; I don’t know.”

“Yes, it’s possible. When do you want to go to a lawyer?”

“This Friday, if you’re free?”

“Give me a minute,” the papers rustled on the other side, Soomin clearly trying to find the day she needed in her diary. Knowing the nature of Soo, it was difficult to make out anything there; her records were always chaotic, and careful planning was not her forte. In this, too, she was similar to Mina.

“I’m totally free. How about going to brunch first and then to the lawyer?

You could use some fun, and I’ve always wanted to go to this new trending place. I hear they serve incredible fondant au chocolate, and the owner looks like God cut him out. How does that sound? “First, tell me, are we going there for the fondant or the owner?”

“You can’t judge me; everyone’s talking about how attractive this man is; I just want to see.” Soo softly dissipated.

“Have you betrayed your love of chocolate for a man? Kim Soomin is something new. Anyway, everything sounds great. Let’s go and see if those rumors are true, but if I were going there solely for the chocolate,” I smiled at that thought. I’ve really been lacking in communication lately. We should start coming back to the real world. “Do you know the address?” “Sure, I’ll pick you up at 11:00. Please wear something prettier than a black dress.” “It’s a classic, and thank you again, Soo.”

“You have nothing to thank me for, Sarang. Finally, I can call you like that, you know, Rosa, it doesn’t suit you. I’ll see you Friday, baby.”

“I think so, too. Until Friday.” I put the phone aside, taking a deep breath. The long stems of white roses had folded in half in the cramped bin. A luxurious wrapping in a rare shade of Solferino and embroidered topaz ribbons lay next to the bulky pile, and a small note was shrunk into a perfect ball that was also lying in the trash.

Whoever sent those flowers should have stopped doing that. I’m not Mina. I don’t like roses.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

How quickly does the waiting time pass? We count the days, the hours, and the minutes until the exciting event we’re expecting, circled by a thick red line in the calendar, but is it really worth our time, which life has measured for us?

It's so strange; the days are like bottles of sand thrown by a restless ocean onto a flickering glass bank. I remember this one, crystal blue—it smells like strawberry cheesecake and summer heat. And this one, made of gloss and pearls, is full to the brim with grave earth and chrysanthemum petals. I like the one that sparkles with diamonds from the royal frosted glass; it smells like a lover’s pillow, and there are memories of the first love. There is another, very ordinary, and therefore the most precious—empty and at the same time full. If you open it, you can hear the gentle wind whispering your name.

My life is all about memories now. I’m just trying to keep what’s left.

The rest of the week passed unnoticed by me. Time, like the rapid trains at the station, rushed by, and I kept waiting to see the stop I needed in this incessant turmoil.

Existing in space is very simple when it belongs only to you. I did actions that were memorized to the finest detail, simple mechanisms that gradually brought me back to my normal state. Feed the neighbor’s cat. Do the cleaning. Go for a walk. Check the mail. Cook dinner. Ordinary things to take your mind off the colorful bottles on the shelves of consciousness and the endless cycle of nightmares.

And I also noticed that at night, time flows more slowly. Second by second, replace the glowing dial until dawn. And so on until the ruthless rays of the sun insidiously penetrate between the tightly woven threads of heavy boudoir curtains, and the golden shadow spills over the pampered skin like boiling water.

I think I'm allergic to the sun and, therefore, to the stars.

Maybe the whole world.

Today I woke up earlier than usual. Somewhere below the horizon, the sun splashed in the golden ichor of the predawn twilight. Yoru stretched out at the foot of the bed, warmed by tiny drops of warm light that seeped into the room through the window. Last night, she refused to leave, stubbornly ignoring my presence and my tender pleas to return home to her mistress.

Yoru was my neighbor’s cat, perfectly embodying all its best features: a slightly aggressive, capricious, and having a little bit of arrogance. Despite this, she had a strange affection for me and often stayed at my house if she was in the mood.

Other tenants avoided Yoru, considering her a bad omen, and it was not only the polished glossiness of her black fur; she always appeared where death later came. I didn't care; I've always loved cats, and having one of them in my house was a bit of comfort. I wasn't alone.

Sensing my awakening, her almond-shaped eyes flashed with the sharp color of precious stones in the slits of the eyelids—a thick amber glow, not yet warmed by curiosity or playfulness. Yoru tossed and turned, clearly unhappy that someone had disturbed her sleep, arched her back and closed her eyes again.

We could lie like this all day long, in silence and some strange harmonization. I’m sure she’ll get close to me a little bit later, calculating her every move, until he presses on his heart with a peaceful, relaxed purr. Unfortunately, today was not the day I could afford it. Soomin will soon be here, and I need to get a little tidy.

Shower. Food. Simple things. Jars of creams and neatly arranged lipsticks Are there certain rules of appearance when you go to a lawyer? What dress should I wear—a deep neckline or open legs? How decent?

Should I still look mournful? Should I wear a veil? Two months have passed; are other colors acceptable? What will he think of me?

So many questions were spinning in my head while I was going, and it seems to me that whatever I choose, it will still be inappropriate. The story of Mina was not a passing affair; probably everyone in the city had fleetingly heard about her death. One of my friends told me she was called “Queen of Roses” because of the flowers in her hair, and I saw the headlines of the “exquisite death” articles.

The black color dripped venomously to the floor with the long hems of the dresses in my wardrobe; the gray, like a mist, settled in the loops of cardigans and oversized sweaters; and the ghostly white terrified me with thin transparent lace and ruffles, just like on Mina's dress. The choice was not too large.

A jacket dress on a naked body made of thick matte silk, a little pearl, and a high choker collar with long falling threads, It was one of the old jewels I bought in a small antique shop. Vintage trinket in the style of Queen Marie-Antoinette. I had a whole collection of such chokers—some studded with precious stones made of expensive jewelry metals, others woven with the finest threads, like a skillfully woven web. Hard made of steel and leather, and soft, like angelic kisses, made of organza and velour. JiHo once said I had a choke kink if I liked things like that; maybe I did, but my ex was too “vanilla” to close his hands around my neck.

After getting dressed and styling my hair, I sat down on the couch and waited for Soomin to arrive. What should I do now? I was lost. Turn on the TV or read a book? Look at the news feed on Instagram; be sure to look at JiHo's profile to see his new photo. Does he miss me or not? Is someone else warming up his bed now that I'm not around? Is JiHo still wearing the same perfume as before, or has he found something different?

Anyway, I never liked his perfume; it was salty like tears and distant ocean breezes and rancid like decaying wood in the dense Amazon. He called them gourmet; I could only agree if they were worn by someone else, say someone more dominant and powerful. Maybe I would even find this strange, gloomy mixture of aromas attractive, inhaling it from someone else's hot skin and feeling with the touch of my lips a steadily beating pulse in the swollen veins on a strong neck.

How long does love last? Three years or more? For me, it's a moment; for others, it's an eternity. I loved him. It's true. Very strong and very long ago. My love did not resemble the indomitable elements or the explosions of colored fireworks; rather, it was the fragrant bloom of wildflowers and the scattering of stars in the sky. She was comforting, not passionate, and I wanted to see someone like me, someone who could comfort my heart and give me tenderness.

Tenderness and comfort alone were enough for me, but deep inside, I wanted something dangerous, something forbidden. I was devout, one of those people who are called “good girls,” but was it really me or the role that Mina gave me?

Maybe in the far corners of my mind, my thoughts weren’t as good and right as they should be. I didn’t even want to admit it to myself, but sometimes when I woke up from another nightmare, I was glad she was dead. Dark, reckless emotions made their way through my cracks; they were moments of despair as my anger lifted its ugly head and oozed poison and blood. My cruelty and hatred had the color of roses and smelled like chocolate. She had fox eyes and a seductive smile; desire flowed in her veins, and strangled thirst was heard in her voice.

In my nightmares, I saw not only Mina and bloody roses; sometimes there was a young man in long silk robes and a veil hiding his face. He's just a ghost; I met mine years ago, but somehow he seems more real to me night by night when he comes into my dreams without permission. He crept into them like a serpent-tempter into the Garden of Eden, slipping away at dawn like the shadow of two moons, hiding behind a door I could never open.

Unreal in my reality.

I felt the arrival of Soomin even before her long nails methodically began to knock on my door. It was as if the spell had been removed and all the sounds of the world had rained down on me in an instant. Yoru shook off her sleep and whirled around at the front door, waiting for an unknown guest. The clatter of high heels echoed in my apartment, slipping through the cracks of the door locks, and the thick smell of ambergris and blooming jasmine at night walked ahead of her, warning every one of her approaches. If I didn’t know better, I could easily have mistaken her for Mina. That was my sister once.

The whole world was just a part of her life; she was not part of the world. To be ordinary—what a bad form!

“Sarang! Sarang, open up. I’m here.” and in fact, her long nails caught on the dark wood of my front door, causing Yoru to bristle and hiss.

I was absolutely sure they wouldn’t get along.

“Are you awfully loud? Someone told you this, Soo?” I opened the front door wide, smiling softly. “I missed you, Soomin.”

“Don’t tell me about it; I missed that pretty face.” She hugged me, which made Yoru hiss again, attracting Soo’s attention. “When did you get a cat?”

“That’s not my, Yoru cat, my neighbor from apartment 1366, that door.” I waved my hand to the far end of the corridor, where Mrs. Lee’s apartment was located. “I like her; I don’t mind having the baby stay with me sometimes.”

“I see.” There was an awkward pause between us until Soo broke it. “You want to talk about… you know what.” She was worried about this topic; I could see it from the way she shifted from foot to foot, or was it from high heels? In the light of the electric lamps, the steel studs glittered like sharpened spindles from the tale of The Sleeping Beauty.

“Not now. Better tell me about this restaurant we’re going to.” Soomin was easily distracted if you changed the topic of conversation in the direction of a subject of interest to her.

I walked out of the house, taking one last look at Yoru. The cat didn't even think about leaving my space; he was already ensconced in a pile of pillows on the sofa in the living room. If she wasn't going to leave, I wouldn't force her.

“Don’t you need to return the cat to the mistress? She looks expensive.” asked Soo

“She’s a purebred Persian cat, and no, Mrs. Lee won’t worry about it; Yoru can stay with me for weeks before she comes home. This has happened before.”

“All right, if you say so.”

I shut the front door and turned the key, permanently cutting off my escape routes. Today. I have to do this today or my resolve will wear thin, and I will once again voluntarily isolate myself in the comfort of blankets and tightly closed curtains.

"And so, the restaurant..." This was the beginning of a long story that interested no more than random passersby in a faceless crowd.

“You’re going to love this place, I promise. Everything I’ve seen on their Instagram profile is so fascinating, but you know what makes this place really attractive? It’s the owner. Eun Jung was there last week, and she couldn’t shut up about…”

For the next 30 minutes, I heard about this trending establishment. “ Angels' Share” is the most requested boutique café in the last 3 months on all search engines. A luxurious café with exquisite dishes and a magnificent concept.

But most importantly, it is, of course, divine, and Soomin, the owner, was absolutely sure of this. Hundreds of girls lined up in endless lines from dawn to dusk, hoping to see him, at least for a moment.

On your first visit, the owner of “Angels' Share” personally serves you throughout your interruption there. Your name is inscribed in the book of exclusive customers in gold ink. Their main specialty is gourmet desserts, and if you are not seduced by the angelic face of the magnificent man who runs this place, then the sweets melting on your lips will do it instantly.

Full berries of scarlet strawberries in white Belgian chocolate. Mille-feuille with fresh wild berries. The devil's food is the most chocolate of all chocolate cakes, and, of course, the angel cake has the most delicate silk cream of exotic fruits.

As Soomin told me about it, she was clearly having an emotional orgasm. Her arousal was obvious, but I could not understand what she craved more: exquisite desserts or the sweet kiss of the owner.

“I think he's a real angel,” Soo finished her rant after giving a fiery speech about the unique beauty of a man she had never met in her life.

“I'm not sure if it's all true, Soomin, but you'll be able to see for yourself when we get there. You should not trust everything they say. You're too impressionable and trusting.”

We spent the rest of the journey in peaceful silence. This is the type of silence when there are a lot of questions in the air, but each side is not sure when to start asking them. I know she wanted to ask me a lot of things, and in response, I wanted to finally share my experiences and feelings that I had been desperately hiding for the past two months. Nevertheless, each of us remained silent, as if afraid to destroy fragile comfort with uncomfortable words.

When the car stopped, Soomin smiled approvingly at me, as if to say, “Go ahead, my girl!” She was good at it because she was also a cheerleader like Mina.

“Angels' Share” was impressive at first sight, and not only because of the long line of girls lined up in a perfect line and dressed in intricate clothes like collectible dolls on the shelf.

A myriad of flowers, lace, and feathers, pastel shades, and delicate ruffles—all of them looked like animated sugar fantasies. Their cheeks were dusted with pink blush, and their inflated lips were accentuated by a thick layer of transparent sticky gloss with a fine sprinkle of glitter.

Perfectly well-groomed hair is arranged in children’s cute curls or intricate hairstyles with hundreds of sparkling hairpins and velvet bows. The variety of their images was amazing, as was the height of their heels. This place was definitely something special if the girls were willing to sacrifice their comfort for a couple of desserts.

Or it wasn’t about desserts.

At such moments, I especially understood how much we needed someone else's approval. The list of items seems endless: he likes cute girls, girls with an athletic figure, pale skin, and big eyes; she should not be boring; my friends like her; she has long legs and a thin waist; and she is a certain height. I wonder if he'll use a ruler to measure me. Big boobs or a nice ass—which turns him on more? What will our first date be like? That's right; should I call him Oppa or not? Tell me what you want, and I will fulfill whatever you want. I will fulfill every one of your fantasies. Tell me about your desires.

Seduce me. Surprise me. Love me!

I don’t want to live like this. I want to be who I really am, with all my flaws and imperfections. I want to be sharp and rude; I want to be cruel and honest; I want to look as I want, without colorful tinsel and layers of makeup, with cellulite, stretch marks, and a little overweight. That may be so, but it will be me. Just me. 

The voice of Soomin ripped me out of my mind.

“I told you so,” said Soo smugly, purposefully heading for the entrance, circumventing a string of discharged girls. She was a lioness on a hunt, while they were stranded in colorful piles like scared rabbits.

If you do not pay attention to the girls, the exterior is fascinating. Gold, flowers, and crystal resembled the frame of a precious box. “Angels' Share” was positioned in such a way that the sun flooded it from all sides, creating around it a mysterious golden haze of sunlight and a dazzling iridescent play of crystals.

Everything was so beautiful, I won't deny it, but didn't the gingerbread house beckon the children deep into the dark forest where the wicked witch lived? Everything beautiful always has a downside, and someone knows how to mask it better than others.

While I was looking at the details, Soomin dragged me inside and was already talking to the host girl, who was checking the records for a long list of names. She also, like the girls on the street, looked like a doll. Her hair was long and shiny, tucked away from her face with an embroidered rim with Swarovski crystals, and her eyelashes were so lush that they touched her cheeks when she blinked. I would call her beautiful; she licked to perfection, which made it almost unnatural. She had a sweet, high-pitched voice and an overly friendly smile. Annoyingly friendly. 

“Please follow me; I'll show you your table. Since you have visited us for the first time, Mr. Yoon will personally take care of you today. Please enjoy your stay at “Angels' Share.”

YooA—that was the name of this girl—led us up the spiral staircase to the second floor. It seemed that everything around was carved from pale golden marble, with the addition of luxurious interior items and thousands of flowers—or, to be more precise, thousands of roses. Snow-white, cream, pastel pink, and soft peach—the whole space breathed rose buds that stood in tall transparent vases.

The sight took my breath away, and I was inwardly tense. It's okay; it's just a café, not Mina's apartment. You need to relax and not start panicking; it will not benefit anyone.

As if sensing my growing panic, Soomin squeezed my palm.

“Are you all right? You look pale.”

“Yes, it’s all right; there are too many roses for my taste; you know, it brings back memories.” I smiled tortuously in response to her words. I didn’t want to ruin her day; she was so excited and happy when we came here.

“We can leave if you are not comfortable, Sarang.” Soo still held my hand, gently walking her thumb over my palm in a comforting circular motion. “If you want to go somewhere else, this is fine. I can always come back here later.”

“No!” came out too loud. “No, I’m fine. I can’t wait to try their chocolate fondant. You know I’m here only for chocolate.” She said the last part with me in one voice.

YooA showed us our table, although it was more like a small loggia separated by airy chiffon tulle and pearl threads from the common room. I could easily fall in love with this place if not for the languid, enveloping smell of roses and the beauty of their lush, perfect buds.

“Do you think the rumors are true, and we'll see an angel appearance today?” Soomin leaned across the table to talk about the owner, not so obviously?

“I think you'll find out about it now, anyway.” I couldn't finish my thoughts, interrupted by Soo's enthusiastic sigh. It was a sound of undisguised admiration that she couldn't hold back, even if she tried.

The reason for her excitement was right behind me, and I had to look back a little to see what it could have been.

Of course, all the sounds of delight belonged to none other than Mr. Yoon. In part, I could understand why he was called angel-like. His beauty was painfully perfect, to the point where it became almost terrible. His face was beautiful—almost obsessively beautiful, like the face of a stone goddess on a grave. Surreal. The skin seemed to glow from the inside, like molten silver flowing through the veins. He had long hair—ashes, platinum, mother-of-pearl—everything mixed on a diamond cloth. One silvery strand fell delicately over his face.

Are the melodies of an angelic choir in the air, or does it just seem that way to me?

The more I looked at him, the more his appearance disgusted me.

I felt flawed and unsuitable, like a puzzle that did not fit the picture; my heart did not beat faster with excitement or sweet agony; I did not burn and did not desire it as it should. Between us, it was possible to draw thousands of parallels in a myriad of universes, and none of them ever intersected. Beauty is deceptive, like a serpent promising forgiveness. It’s the pain of a bittersweet injection entering our nervous tissue.

What do we know about them—angels? White-winged light bearers, without flaws and ignorant of evil and vicious desires, are submissive and faithful to their ideals and purposes. Silent watchers who look after our virtue. But there are those who are chained and silken, whose wings are torn out with bloody flesh, for they are sinners.

Their name is the fallen. Unforgiven. 

He was not an angel. He was one of them who traded the vaults of heaven for the flames and steel of the nine circles.

His presence was heavy, stifling, and sharp. Goosebumps ran through my skin as an omen of the imminent end.

I could have sworn that the second our eyes met in his eyes, the color of dark bitter chocolate, anger, and disgust thickened. So everything that is perfect collapses, falls, beats, and crumbles like the great walls of Babylon, kissing the transcendental peak of heaven. Like a Venus flytrap, his appearance was a clever disguise of vice and rot in a velvet cage of flesh, and this place is the very gingerbread house that beckons to certain death.

 “Welcome to “Angels' Share”. My name is Yoon Sung Hoon; I own this place, and today I will make sure your stay here is unforgettable.” The voice flowed like honey smoothly and gently, I could melt at this tone.

“I am Soomin, and this is Sarang; we have heard a lot about this place.” Soo’s cheeks were pink from a shy blush, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was embarrassed. This man was clearly something special, if he could make Soomin behave like a schoolgirl in love with just his presence.

His eyes rested on my figure for a second, and I wanted to shrink into a ball under this appraising gaze, as if he was trying to probe me and understand how dangerous I could be. It was only a moment, and then a smile shone again on his angelic face.

“I hope you’ve only heard nice things about us. What do you want today?” I wonder what he is used to hearing in response. I want you and your love, and I will accept everything you would not give me. Will you be my boyfriend? My husband? Will you give me eternal love? Judging by the expression on Soomin's face, this is exactly what she wanted to ask him, but she pulled herself up in time.

“I want to taste your best dessert.” As they say, kill them with your sweetness. Where has my self-sufficiency and t.” As they say, “kill them with your sweetness.” Where has my self-sufficient and confident self gone? Soo, this blushing mess was nothing like hers.

“Of course, only the best is for you. And what do you want?” All his attention was now drawn to me, and I had no pleasure. Yoon Sung Hoon is clearly not used to girls not falling at his feet like moths hitting the glass. Our dislike was mutual. Our dislike was mutual. “What do you want, Sarang? I would recommend one of our most special desserts: a white chocolate soufflé with candied scarlet roses.” Sung Hoon was smiling, but not at all benevolent; there was something mocking in the exquisite curve of his lips, as if he were challenging me: “Come on, try me.”

Roses. Those damn roses again. It always came down to these flowers. Were they my path leading away from the dark forest, or would they lead me straight to the crystal coffin in the tallest tower of the castle?

Instead of politely refusing, as a true lady should, I have given a crude, hoarse, and utterly evil speech:

“I hate roses.”

For me, flowers are as beautiful as the pain of a broken heart. You can call me a heartbreaker. What will your heart taste like? I'm so eager to try it. 

“My apologies.” Sung Hoon bowed his head, hiding his gaze in the lace of fluttering eyelashes and platinum bangs. With this simple action, Soomin once again made a barely audible, enthusiastic sound. “In this case, I offer you our signature chocolate fondant with raspberry jam and glass caramel glaze. Our clients say that he has a heavenly taste, so celestial that he can be sinful.”

Sung Hoon—there was something about him that disgusted me. His way of speaking, his appearance, his behavior—in general, every detail of it The most beautiful apple on the branch will always be wormy. I couldn't understand how he could charm girls in a split second, without any effort, as if it were in his blood—to cause desire and awe.

During our short conversation, Soo did not look at me once, inseparably studying every detail of the angelic man. If I make an incision in his skin, will the gold pour as befits angels, or will it be the viscous and black acid that Pandora once shed from her eyes?

I didn’t like it here. I didn’t like Yoon Sung Hoon, and he probably didn’t like me. How was I in his eyes—insignificant, puny, ordinary? Our dislike was mutual but totally unfounded; I just knew I didn’t want to be in the same space with him. I can’t breathe.

Guests always leave after dessert. I didn't want to linger, so I agreed to fondant. “Okay, I'll take fondant and cappuccino.” I looked at Soomin again; her thoughts were clearly elsewhere, judging by the bitten lower lip and flushed cheeks. “And matcha latte, please.”

“Of course, ladies…” With this phrase, he finally left us, and I sighed deeply.

“I think I'm in love, Sarang.” Apparently, with his passing, Soo’s brain has resumed active activity. “He absolutely justifies all the rumors about him.”

“Yeah, I can agree with that; he’s definitely something very special.”

After Sung Hoon served desserts and another 10 minutes of heated discussion of his appearance, our conversation took its normal course. It’s like ping-pong; the rules are very simple: move from one question to another, follow the theme, and don’t miss your turn. “How's the work?” “Everything is fine.” “How’s your boyfriend?” “You remember I told you we broke up?” “What have you been doing lately?” “Too much to do; I can’t remember, but recently I came back from Japan”, “Did you like it there?” “Great seats and great cuisine.” “How do you feel, Sarang?” Say it again; I didn’t hear you.

“How do you feel, Sarang?” Once again, you speak unclearly.

“How do you feel, Sarang?” It's so loud here, I can't hear you.

“Sarang?!” Can I skip my turn? I’m tired of this game.

I took a deep, slow breath.

“What do you want me to say, Soo? Something that will calm you down or something that should comfort me? ”

“Truth, Sarang. I want to hear the truth from you.” Soomin looked at me so carefully that it seemed as though she was looking straight into my soul.

My mind moved from one thought to another, not knowing what it would focus on. Truth. What is it like, this truth? She is like a beautiful, spiritually disheveled monster with a lesbian couple of black widows in an aquarium; she exists in an endless eternity of joyful decadence and an ecstatic nightmare.

It’s no big deal to tell someone the truth, but are you ready to see your own reflection in someone else’s eyes? They say alcohol is a liquid truth, but I think it's nothing more than a road strewn with bread crumbs, straight into a dense, dark forest. The more you drink, the deeper you go. Sometimes, through the intricately woven stems of condemnation and bitterness, subtle rays of understanding break through, like the light shed by the dual face of the moon. But this happens so rarely that the eyes themselves become accustomed to the surrounding darkness.

I’m still afraid of the dark and, therefore, of the truth. Now I’m sure I’m allergic to the world.

When I looked at the café, I noticed that there were many more people. Bunny girls with colorful barrettes occupied small transparent tables filled with all sorts of desserts; others, similar to porcelain dolls, put their palms to their cheeks, flushed with embarrassment, and laughed loudly, sitting in the same loggias as ours. The sounds of clicks from selfies and aesthetic Instagram photos did not subside for a second, as did the high play of voices merging with soft background music.

This probably wasn’t the best place for such a serious conversation, but was it ever the perfect place to have a heart-to-heart?

“Honestly, I don't know. Really?” I began, stirring the thick, fragrant foam from the cappuccino. It tasted like a first kiss—a little bitter, a little sweet—something that I would like to repeat again and again. “Secrets, secrets, and more secrets—everywhere I look, no matter what I ask, they only get bigger. Everything is as usual: Mina died, and the world is still spinning around her. Remember, I told you that they still send roses? I can say that soon the cemetery will start selling bouquets because there is simply nowhere to put them. Every day there are fresh flowers on the grave.” Maybe I sounded a little petty and annoyed, but I didn't care. “I may not seem like the best person on this planet, but sometimes I feel absolutely happy that I finally managed to bury her in the ground.”  Yes, this is exactly the right moment; you are not mistaken. That was my truth, like salt and pepper, like ashes, like burned dreams.

Soomin shook her head negatively.

“You shouldn't talk about yourself like that, Sarang; you're not a bad person, and we both know it; everyone around you knows it; and even that bastard JiHo knows it. You have gone through a lot, and if I were you, I would have gone crazy long ago, but look at yourself: you are here with me, in the noise of the metropolis, and you have your whole life ahead of you.” She put her hand on top of mine, and the warmth of her body penetrated mine. “Mina was who she was, and neither you nor me nor anyone else could change her. So don't let her ghost poison your life. I'm not a fan of this entire Nancy Drew thing, but I won't dissuade you. If you want my help, I'm on board.”

I laughed bitterly, taking a sip of the coffee that had already cooled. There was something special about it—sweet, ice-cold coffee, like long-cooled love.

“Yeah, you’re right; she was who she was, but I guess we were wrong about that because those flowers broke her in half. In fact, that’s the whole point of the question: where did the roses come from? She was interested in nothing but flowers and some strange prayers. She frightened me. You know, at first it looked like another love of hers; everything was as usual—she talked incessantly about flowers and admired them, but the more roses they sent us, the less she was interested in the rest of the world. Mina withered and languished while the roses bloomed. I've never seen anyone come to our house or meet someone. Nothing, just roses—hundreds of roses. You just can't imagine how many there were.”

“You know, I don’t really want to imagine it. Okay, let’s say you find something in her files. What’s next? You really need this? Maybe we should just let go, you know, scatter the ashes to the wind.” Breaking off a slice of angel cake, Soo mooed in satisfaction as the dessert was in her mouth. “Mmm, I love sweets. Who handled her legal affairs? If this is one of the free lawyers, we should hurry; the queues in these cantors are worse than here.”

“No, no, we're not going to a free advocacy team. Wait a minute.” I pulled out of my purse a small card from a thick black cardboard and handed it to Soomin. Transparent gloss on a soft matt surface looked refined and very expensive, just like the business card itself. “Silver & Black LTD” was the name of the law firm that handled Mina’s affairs.

“You’re kidding me!” She exclaimed, almost burying her face in her business card. “That’s “Silver and Black.” How did she manage to work with them? They’re one of the most elite law practitioners in all of Seoul, and I’d say across Asia. Their lawyers are real sharks in their cases; for the existence of their practice, they have not lost a single case, and the bills for their services are simply cosmic. How does she have so much money? Sarang, did you inherit her sugar daddy too? If that's the case, ask for more; you're much more expensive than a cheerleader, and nerds are always sexier and more desirable.”

“Stop saying that like I’m a whore. I don’t know where she got the money, but are their services so expensive?” My surprise was obvious. Our family was not poor, but we were not rich; we occupied that golden layer in the class hierarchy where we could just live without any worries about tomorrow. Mina and I were well provided for, but judging by Soomin’s reaction, “Silver and Black” could afford only filthy rich and influential people.

“If I were to be offered the opportunity to trade my virginity for cooperation with them, I would have done it without hesitation. Are you sure we have an appointment with them?”

“Soomin!” Frankness was always such a simple thing for her that I felt awkward at such moments. “Of course, I called them yesterday to confirm the details.”

“What? The cult of virginity is overrated anyway, but now I'm much more interested in it.”

“Let me think, more amazing men?” “How did you guess?” Soo smiled sweetly, shoving another piece of dessert into her mouth. I snorted; I couldn’t help it. "Hey, don’t laugh! You should also consider new options, since you and JiHo have broken up. Listen to me, little Sarang, nothing will warm your bed better than a hot big boy."

"Ew, Soomin." She just laughed back.

[harajukufashionhistoria]

This weeks harajuku fashion style is Mori kei!!!

History of mori kei:

Mori girl was founded by a woman named choco on mixi (japanese facebook) in 2006 but this particular style has existed even before its recognision, choco just gave that style a name. Mori stands for forest in japanese and it translates to forest girl. There were several rules created for mori girl, which even the ogs of that style didnt follow completly. In 2012 mori girl was renamed to be mori kei to be more inclusive of its sub-styles

Rise to popularity

After the mori girl mixi group was created, many people started to participate in that style and street photographers began to feature them more often in their magazines. There were also several magazines and issues completly dedicated to mori kei such as: spoon, mori girl lesson and fudge. There was also music created that was inspired by the mori girl style and an anime named honey and clover which features the main character wearing this style.

In 2013-2014 most mori style stores have shutdown because of its decrease in popularity over the years and popular mori kei personalities have deactivated their blogs. Mori kei is still alive but its not as popular as it was before.

Brands

Mori kei never seriously relied on brand clothing, but there are still some brands that make/made mori kei styled clothing and this includes:

•Wonder rocket-was the most recognisible Mori brand and opened in 2007 and shutdown after ten years.

•DearLi- a chinese company that has been and is known for its past mori fashion lines

•Q-pot accessoires

•Earth,music & ecology

•Birkenstock

and many more which you can find on:

https://idontknowmuchbutimlearning.blogspot.com/2017/09/an-introduction-to-mori-kei.html?m=1

Fashion rules

•Natural fabrics: such as cotton and lace

•Natural colors: creams, browns, white, natural greens, light blues and light pinks

•Natural/ nature inspired patterns: flower patterns, nature patterns or even small stripes

•Layers: asymetrical layers, multiple dresses and/ or skirts. For a boyish silhouette: baggy pants, many shirts, scarves and sweaters

•Natural hair

•Minimal or no makeup

•nature themed accessoires: mushroom necklaces, flower crowns and etc.

•practical shoes

Substyles

•Dark mori: less popular, darker colorscheme, often confused with the western style Strega.

•Mori boy: masculine appereance, focuses less on light, airy and feminine materials such as lace. Features darker colorschemes.

•Hama kei: (ocean style)

•Yama kei (mountain style)

•Mori gyaru

•Practical mori

•Over the top mori

•Trendy mori (also known as street mori)

•Simplistic mori

•Bohemian mori

•Shabby chick mori

•Dolly mori

•Cult party mori

•Lolita mori

•Romantic mori

Lifestyle

Mori kei doesnt really have a lifestyle to follow but I recommend checking this mori kei blog which gives you an idea of a mori kei lifestyle: https://idontknowmuchbutimlearning.blogspot.com/p/navigation.html?m=1

Credits for the information

•Idontknowmuchbutimlearning.blogspot.com

•japanese fashion wiki

Photos: pinterest

[sukirichi]

A prince from another kingdom staying at the palace for like a month for diplomatic work falling in love w Y/N bringing her all kinds of gifts and they spend most of their time w each other while he's there and Rin not being able to kick him out because his mom would get pissed so he just has to watch as this man practically go on dates with his wife. (Maybe the prince could be one of Rin's childhood friends/rivals)

hOLD ON you’re onto something

even better if it was rin’s childhood rival omg. imagine prince kuroo, who had always been the smart, charming, and friendly crown prince who rin’s mother always compared him to. saying how he wished rin could be more like him, “a natural born leader.” kuroo just has it so easy! he has no brothers to compete for, his parents are happily married and good rulers. everyone loves him as their crown prince while rin has to fight to prove he’s worthy of his title </3

and when kuroo visits, at the peak of his popularity and success as king-to-be, claiming the only reason he isn’t crowned king yet because he still doesn’t have a wife, rin is agitated. he’s married, you’re in love with him (but even he can’t blame you if you lose feelings), so he should have nothing to worry about, right? it’s not like crown prince kuroo can charm you, can sweep you off your feet - but he knows. everyone knows. kuroo can.

diplomatic work, and forming alliances only, kuroo says. but then he’s sending you flowers every morning, memorizes your favorite poems so he can recite it and make you smile, and even watches the stars with you one night so you can say its beautiful and he’ll cheesily agree, saying “it is,” while looking at you. it’s overused, it’s lame, it should be corny, but kuroo is just so perfect that it becomes hard not to fall for him.

as for rin? well, he and kuroo are now competing on who can give the bigger and prettier flowers until your room is just filled with too much bouquets that you won’t stop sneezing

(ps. kuroo is the first to buy you allergy meds)

[sage-green-matcha]

MAROON - ETHAN LANDRY PT. 1 🍷🥀🔪

“The burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me, and how the blood rushed into my cheeks so, scarlet it was” - Taylor Swift

Content includes: mentions of murder, alcohol, pretty much it for this chapter!

Pt. 2 of Maroon | Pt. 3 of Maroon | PT. 4 of Maroon |

(A/n: This is the first chapter of a series! It’s gonna be ab 5-7 parts? I’m not sure yet. Hope you enjoy! )

<3

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Your whole life you'd felt like an outcast, no friends, a broken family. You'd move around your entire childhood, you never had one place that you called home. You knew you couldn't get too comfortable anywhere you were.

That was until you moved to Woodsboro. You were there for your last two years of high school. Becoming friends with a group of "popular kids" but what you didn't know was that at the cost of having friends was death.

"Y/n, you okay?" Tara waved her hand in your face. "I- yea I'm fine" Your lips were agape, picturing the sight of the dead bodies you had seen in the past. You took it harder than everyone else. Sam kept trying to get you to go to therapy but you refused. You didn't think anything was wrong with you. But the situation changed how you looked at everyone and everything.

You couldn't trust anyone, nowhere was safe. You felt like there were eyes on you at all times. And you never dared to pick up any calls from unknown numbers. "I was asking what we should get for dinner? Everyone's coming over in a bit" "Oh uh, I'm fine with anything"

It was just a normal night to everyone else, but to you, the moon was the same as it was on that night. It was full, and it messed with your head. "Y/n...it might be last minute but do you wanna go to a party? It's Halloween themed and I know you've been wanting to wear your costume" She smiled at you.

She knew you would say yes, everyone loved when you were drunk. You were the same person from before the murders, the same funny, sweet, Y/n that gave no fucks. You let loose, you'd dance with anyone who asked and took whatever drink was handed to you.

"Yea, I'll get ready" "Nice" she squealed, leaving you alone. You kept your door open, finding your pink butterfly wing teeshirt, pairing it with a green mini skirt. It was simple enough but still cute, tying the shirt in the front to make the "slutty" aspect of Halloween come into play. You had a little flower crown, carefully placed butterflies all over it, a green bow in the back.

You did your makeup with care, adding glitter and gems to the sides of your eyes. "Hi Y/n...we're leaving soon" you responded to the unfamiliar voice, looking up quickly "Oh, hey Ethan...right?" He nodded. You'd be lying if you said you didn't think he looked silly. He was wearing a cardboard hat, grey tape around the edges to give it a "cleaned up" look.

"Yea...Ethan Landry" "And what are you supposed to be, Ethan?" He was really cute, he had a shy look in his eye, his cheeks covered in pretty roses blush color. "I'm a Knight" "Your armor isn't really shiny" he looked confused and kinda offended at the same time.

"I- I'm just kidding, sorry. I'll be out soon" You smiled up at him. He had pictured your smile in his mind and it was so much better than he had imagined. You were always quiet and serious in Econ class, but you looked so good with a smile on your face.

Luckily, Ethan would be getting to see you smile all night, the first one when you took your first shot of the night. "To the Fab 5, and! To Ethan, my roommate" "Chad ew, don't call us that" Tara cringed. "Yea! And Sams not here so it's not the full 5" you laughed. "Okay, okay whatever. Cheers guys" You took the small glass to your lips, burning liquid smoothly going down your throat, tossing away old memories and letting yourself go.

"Let's dance!" You dragged Tara to the dance floor also known as the living room, the smell of smoke filling your nose. "Does Sam know you're here?" "No!" She laughed and you shook your head. "You know she's gonna track you down, right?" "Nah, she won't find me"

You stumbled back to the kitchen, Ethan scrolling on his phone silently. "Hey, E...you drink?" You held up a bottle tauntingly and he shook his head. "Uh, no" "yea, I saw you spit out that shot" you smiled, turning back to the table of alcohol, pouring two shots of vodka. "Here" you handed him one, his shaky voice thanking you.

You liked Ethan, sure you'd only known him for a couple hours but he reminded you of yourself. Getting dragged into new friend groups where they don't quiet except you, feeling left out of jokes since he hadn't been here long. "How long have you been in New York?" You strike up a conversation, Anika stealing you back after the long chat. "Got eyes for Landry, huh?" "He's cute" you shrugged with a smile, taking a drink from the red solo cup in your hand. "Chads gonna freak"

Her eyes widened and so did her smile. It finally felt like you were trusting someone, opening up, and starting a conversation. You knew the next time you'd seen him he'd be confused by the lack of energy you'd have. In reality, the alcohol was what was giving you that boost.

You sat down next to the two girls, Mindy explaining her logic behind being at this party and the small chance of almost being killed again. "What about you Y/n? Aren't you a bit paranoid?" "Yeah, I guess. But I feel safe around you guys" you smirked. "Oh also Y/n, I don't Trust Ethan at all. He looks too innocent" "Isn't that the best part?" You laughed, Mindy with a disgusted look on her face.

"I'm gonna go stand in line for the bathroom" You blew kisses at them as you walked away, walking around to find the bathroom. You felt yourself lose balance as you walked, someone catching you as you felt liquid splash on your shirt. "Ah man, my shirt" You held onto the randos chest, trying to stay balanced. "Shit, Y/n...you okay?" You looked up with drunk eyes, Ethan looking down at you with concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine. But my shirt...not so much" You frowned, blush rushing into your cheeks as you looked at him. You untied your Tee, the Maroon color splashed all over your top, making it look like someone had stabbed you. "Is that wine?" He shrugged. "I'm not sure, this girl just gave it to me" he smiled, helping you hold yourself up against the wall.

"Thanks for catching me, I'm not completely drunk, these heels are just uncomfortable to walk in" You slipped off the gold shoes, Ethan standing next to you uncomfortably. "Uhm, let's get you a new drink, yea?" "Oh, no no it's okay. I wasn't gonna drink it...uhm it's fine" he stumbled over his words quite a lot. You couldn't tell if he was just nervous or if this is just how he was all the time.

"Ethan! My man!" Chads hand slapped over the poor boy's shoulder. "Whoah...Y/n, you look like you just got attacked...again" "Very funny Chad" you glared at him. "Hey uh, not to interrupt this throuple but your services are needed" Anika turned the corner as Chad sighed. "I'm needed, I'll be back" "Throuple huh...I think I'd like to just have fun with you, E" You held back a laugh, walking away with a smile and an awkward wink.

Ethan was left a flustered and confused mess, following to find Chad. As for you, you'd finally find the bathroom. Looking at your wine-splashed shirt. It was a familiar view. But instead of blood, it was an innocent drink. You lifted your shirt, your fingers tracing over the two, deep knife scars.

You were lucky to only get two lousy scars, compared to others...you told yourself you didn't have room to complain. After all, you were alive, you made it through the night and you took it to your advantage.

You snapped out of your trance as you heard a familiar voice. Sam, oh shit. "Excuse me" You struggled to push through the crowded hall, bumping into Ethan once you got to the scene. You moving to stand by his side. "Oh shit" you cringed as Sam took her taser to the man's crotch.

"Sam? Are you fucking kidding me? You're stalking me now?" You And Ethan watched in confusion, the dude now on the floor. "Holy shit! It's that psycho girl!" The room filled with laughter, grabbing Ethan's hand as everyone chased Tara.

"Is this like a regular thing in this friend group?" The group walked in unison, you And Ethan behind everyone else. "Yea," you sighed, feet aching with your shoes in your hand. "I like your flower thingy...by the way" "Thanks, made it myself" you took it off your head, handing it to him before stealing the cardboard hat from off his. "Trade me?" "Oh uh...yea" he placed the crown on his head awkwardly, trying to fix his hair as you slipped his hat over your head.

"Looks cute on you" The pink flowers matched with his soft personality, and his flushed cheeks. You on the other hand looked very strange, getting looks from the people that were once staring at Sam and Tara.

"Tara..will you stop?" Sam struggled to catch up with her sister, Tara not giving a fuck. "I cannot believe you did that, you embarrassed me!" "That gut was a dick! He was gonna take advantage of you" "So?!" You rubbed underneath your eyes, knowing that they were about to get into an argument yet again.

It was always like this, they argue just to never make up and argue again. It's a continuous cycle that has never ended. "So?" Sam repeated in shock. "If I wanna hook up with an ass hole that's my decision?! It's my decision" "Okay.." Sam scoffed.

"It's not about you!... You..you were out of my life for 5 years and then you can't leave me alone for 5 minutes" Sams's only and most used "comeback" was that Tara wasn't going to the councilor, That she wasn't dealing with what happened to her. You wondered if she thought the same thing about you, you were worse than Tara with the subject, you had completely blocked out any idea of it with anyone. Sure everyone knew what happened in the back of their head, but it was for the best if no one mentioned it.

"Hey...guys come on" Tara ignored Chad, trying to get them to stop. Tara rambled, even you thought her words were a bit harsh. "You just follow me here and you won't let me out of your sight" "Just...trying to look out for you" You could tell Sam felt defeated, rethinking her actions. "I know...I know you are. But you can't do it for the rest of my life, you have to let me go"

Next thing you knew the smell of cherry coke filled your nose, a drink splashed all over Sam by a random girl. The two were already at it, Sam trying to aggressively go after her, Chad pulling her back. "The fuck is wrong with you?" "You know what you did!" "I didn't fucking do anything!"

You waved at Ethan to follow you, chasing behind Mindy and the rest of the group. "I'm so fucking tired of this!" Tara's eyes watered in frustration, Chad rubbed her back Anika and Mindy holding hands as they walked. You only now realized how alone you were. Sure you'd have some flirty moments with Mindy or Anika but they were purely platonic, you'd never had an actual partner.

"Y/n, I heard what you said to Ethan, not that drunk huh?" She laughed. "He knows I'm kidding...or not. Right E?" "What?" He caught up and you smiled to the ground. "You talked to my bro? Damn, I guess you two would make a good pair" Chad laughed. "No, I don't trust him. He's weird, he always stutters when he talks. He's definitely hiding something" Mindy scoffed.

"I'm right here..." "No, he's just like that with Girls, Man has never experienced female contact" Ethan rolled his eyes, sighing. Mindy also rolled her eyes, she was always stubborn, especially when she was convinced someone was dangerous. "Well I'm gay, so I don't know why he's scared of me" "Maybe cause you're really intimidating, Mindy" Tara turned back, a broken smile back on her face.

"You are...kinda really rude too" "Am not, your face is just annoying to look at" your eyes widened. "Okay you two, cut it out" You all finally got to the apartment, running into your room to take off the wet, uncomfortable shirt. You placed Ethan's hat on your bed, finding a long sleeve and pj pants to switch into.

"Hey, here's your thingy back" he knocked on the door, handing it to you. "Oh, thanks" you grabbed his hat off the bed, giving it back. "I- I think I'm just gonna take it all off, restricting" you agreed. "Yea...plus the party's already over" "I...I'm really sorry about your shirt...by the way" "It's fine, ill just order another one"

"Y/n, hey I think you're gonna wanna see this" Chad called from the living room, you And Ethan rushing to his voice. He called out to Sam who was downstairs, the two of you meeting in the living room in shock. "Cute boy...nice" Quinn smiled and you smirked.

You stared at the Tv, "Also found at the scene were various Ghost Face costumes..." you heart dropped to your ass, you could feel tears start to form in your eyes. "I'm not doing this shit again" you rushed to your room, Sam chasing behind you. "Y/n...Y/n come on we can leave, I'll get tara" "Guys! Wait no! Hold on! No wait, let's talk about this for a second" the two of you had already made your way to the kitchen, knifes in hand.

"This might not have anything to do with us" "Are you serious?" Sam asked. Great, another argument. But this time you sided with Sam. This definitely had something to do with all of you. "It's Halloween! Everybody's wearing masks" "Tara! Tara, this isn't a coincidence!" Your eyes were wide, looking at her trying to find where she found the audacity to say that.

"Tara...we knew him" you spoke up. "He was in one of our classes! We Barley knew him" She scoffed. "Chad, Mindy back us up here" your eyes creased, heart pumping as if you'd just run a marathon. "I mean it is a little bit..." "close to home..." Mindy finished his sentence. "Quinn! Your dad's a cop right? Can you call him and see what's going on? Before you make the dumb ass decision to abandon my college education, and flee the fucking state?" Everyone looked up at Quinn, her Phone to her ear as she called.

You froze as you felt your phone ring in your pocket. Everyone's eyes on you. You slowly took it out, looking at the contact. "Who is it?" You let out a small sigh of relief. "It's just Gale, probably excited about the new book opportunity" you held your face in your palms. "Why'd everyone just freak out when her phone rang?" "You gotta keep up My Dude" you felt your heart beat faster, holding back tears.

"Sam, my dad wants to talk to you" you rushed to your room, closing the door behind you. You fell against it, tears spilling out. You thought you'd finally escaped it, but now your progress was ruined, you were back at square one. It was only bound to get worse, this was just the beginning.

[dreaminghelaena]

asoiaf characters as youtubers

cersei: she is the CRAZIEST mukbanger ever. always has some new drama to talk about and it’s very very interesting so she has millions of subscribers. you know that meme of azealia banks’ internet feuds list? yeah that’s cersei. she’s beefed with everyone on the platform and never makes any apology videos for it. she’s had the channel since before she gave birth to joffrey and it’s still going strong. she sometimes does sponsorships but only for wine companies

tyrion: he is the vsauce of asoiaf youtube. does a lot of videos about scientific theories and experiments that get a lot of views. sometimes has drama with people but it’s not very often. he did a face reveal once he got to 3 mil and people edited picsart flower crowns onto his head and made it their pfp, so his comments are just filled with those. sometimes does his own experiments but they always end up going wrong

margaery: she does a lot of makeup tutorials!! she makes sure to use easily accessible drugstore makeup products so people can follow along. she has a couple million subscribers and is renowned as the most non-toxic makeup youtuber of all time. tried to collab with cersei but cersei didn’t show up. she also used to be a nail tech so she has a master class on that

theon: OMGGG theon is THE internet gossip youtuber ever. he’ll literally be pumping out videos about feuds hours after they started. some call him shady cause of the types of videos he makes but he doesn’t care cause he’s having fun. he also has a twitch gaming streaming channel and he is the Jerma of his universe there. he sucks at the games and does not know anything about gaming consoles or the best mics/cameras etc so he has to get computer science™ major jon to help him

sansa: sansa is a fashion design major in nyc so of COURSE she is posting lifestyle vlogs. she started the whole channel because she was featured in a few of margaery’s videos and people kept asking for her to make her own. but she is also very careful with her privacy cause she’s scared of someone finding her. she also has a second channel where she posts sims 4 videos and it’s super chill and fun over there

arya: arya’s really into self defense so she mostly posts tutorials and videos about that. she’s super super helpful in the comments but will insult people brutally when provoked. her genre isn’t as popular as the others so she has a couple hundred thousand (very loyal) subscribers. she also has a secret second channel that only has around 10k subs and everyone there gatekeeps tf out of it. she posts roblox and fortnite videos with her siblings that are really funny and entertaining. all of the girls in the comments are thirsting for robb 😭

jon: jon doesn’t post very much but when he does post it’s minecraft videos. most of the time sam is in them and sometimes robb will make an appearance but he has no idea what is going on. jon posts minecraft builds and he has his own smp (is that what they call it????) he’ll occasionally post videos about playing choices matter games like detroit become human and until dawn. sometimes ppl go ??? because during his minecraft build videos he traumadumps in the background instead of just putting on music or smth. he doesn’t show his face tho cause he’s afraid of getting made fun of

myrcella and tommen: ok they have a super secret channel that only has around 1,000 subscribers where they post videos of their cat. that’s all. people in the comments are super sweet and myrcella and tommen make an effort to respond to all of them. their videos only get like 230 views each time they post but they don’t really care they’re having fun

renly and loras: they’re posting relationship vlogs and stuff but they don’t have a filter so sometimes they talk about really nsfw stuff and get in trouble for it. they’re mostly known for their travel vlogs but they also do videos about drama in their lives that is literally insane. like once renly casually brought up how his brother almost killed him during a ouija board game and loras is like “mhm mhm” but all of the comments are ???? margaery collabs with them all of the time too

bran: 3am challenges.