#i never learned what the yellow white and purple flowers were called

[niadotcom]

it is a serious thing // just to be alive / on this fresh morning / in the broken world.

pictures I've taken that I think you'd like, a fragment of a poem by Mary Oliver that I think you'd love

the flowers are beautiful

[kitixie]

Gardens of Babylon / T.S.

word count: 4k

information: whew. y'all, this one is long but i am so so proud of it. i loved getting to write this, and i feel like "cowboy like me" now belongs to Tommy. please enjoy!!

warnings: sadness, a lot of self introspection

There had been parties around Birmingham all year, but this one was poised to be the best. Large, white tents covered the ground of the luxurious backyard, the grass freshly trimmed. The pristine flower bushes were banked in sprays of purple, pink and yellow flowers, filling the air with a refreshing scent. Taking in your surroundings was one of your favorite parts of the job. You learn so much about people based on the smallest detail, like how they arrange tables, how well they dress for their own event, how well people try to hide the skeletons in their closets for the night. 

When you were 16, you became your fathers right hand woman. Taking charge of stake-outs, surveying the people your father saw as a threat, and other tasks that most fathers would never let their daughter do. But your father was blinded by his power, only seeing what he could gain, never seeing what others would lose. That’s how you wound up here, five years later, striding through a stranger's yard, using a fake name to get into the event. You just had one specific mission tonight: make contact with Thomas Shelby. 

You found him an hour after the party had started, lounging against an outdoor wall with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. You waited, pulling your own smoke from your small purse, and lighting it up. Standing casually with your shoulders relaxed against the wall, you breathed in, deeply inhaling the nicotine. Immediately, any of the nerves you had relaxed. Thomas was just a man, albeit a dangerous one, but he would never even know your real name. No matter what came from tonight, you would end up back home in your bed. Closing your eyes and opening your ears, you could hear the sounds of music. It was a slow tempo song, but the melody was beautiful. It was a familiar song, although you couldn’t put your tongue on the name of it. Softly humming the song, you stamped out your cigarette and followed the music past Thomas towards the courtyard. Just as your kitten heels touched the dancing floor that had been laid over the grass, a tall figure stopped beside you. 

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” The man asked, only visible in your peripheral. 

“It is, I-“ You turned to face the man, it was Thomas. 

You took him in, he looked much different up close. His file only said ‘brown hair, blue eyes, average build’, but you could see nothing average about the man. He was thick, with wide shoulders and a well defined waist. His eyes weren’t just blue, they were pools of sky and ocean and reflections of the string lights hanging above your heads. His hair was varying shades of brown, ranging from lighter pieces of caramel to deep strands that were almost black. His eyebrows were dark and prominent on his face, but they weren’t too much like some men. His pink lips were turned up into a small smile, and your eyes scanned his face again before catching on his mouth for a moment. You looked him in the eyes as the music changed, the new song catching your attention. 

“Care for a dance Miss….?” He trailed off, waiting for you to tell him your name. 

“Dancing is a dangerous game, Mr. Shelby. But yes, I’d be happy to dance with you.” 

He offered his hand, and the two of you stepped into the crowd of swaying people. He placed his left hand on your waist. The right hand gripping yours. He slowly began swaying the both of you in time to the music, before he spoke. 

“I still don’t know ya name, Love. How come ya already know mine?” He asked, meeting your eyes. 

“My name is Taylor, and I’m not sure if ya know, but you're quite famous around here, Mr. Shelby.” You said, trying to rain in your anxiety. 

Had you fucked up by calling him by his name? He knew he had enemies, and if he was smart, he’d see right through the little innocent girl facade you were using. But maybe, he wasn’t that smart. Maybe, he’d see you, you’d be his perfect type, and there would be no more questions. Maybe the two of you would spend more time together after this and you could cover for yourself even more… no. The rules your father had given were very specific, and you were to stick to them tightly. No unauthorized time with the subject of the mission, at any point in time. The rules were rules for a reason, and there was no questioning them. You had worked to hard, come home too many times with your hands caked in both literal and metaphorical blood to stray now. But this was different, he was different. He wasn’t the usual rich prick who got off too far in debt or the typical middle men who worked for your father than needed to be eliminated. He was someone, something, else entirely. He was kind, and his hands were gentle. His voice was soft yet commanding, and you knew that this man could tell you to drop to your knees and you would, even if your father was standing right behind you. Perhaps dancing with him was more of a dangerous game than you thought. 

“You’re right about that one, Love. Sometimes I just forget who I am when I see a beautiful woman.” He crooned, swinging your arm and making your skirts furl around you as you twirled. 

A blush crept across your face, a laugh breaking through your lips. 

“Thank you, Mr. Shelby, I-“ 

“Please, call me Tommy.” He interrupted. 

“Tommy,” you repeated, letting his name run through your mouth, “I appreciate the compliment but I’m sure there are prettier women at this party.”

“I didn’t say pretty, Taylor, I said beautiful.” He spoke, sliding his hand from your waist to cup your jaw, forcing your eyes to hold his gaze. 

“Actu-, never mind. Thank you, Tommy.” 

Fuck. You had almost corrected him on your name. You needed to get away from him, his scent filling your head and making you feel almost high. It was intoxicating, and it was trouble. No man had ever made you feel like this, not ever. No one had ever taken away you sharpness, and without your wits you felt naked. You inhaled a deep breath, and thanked God when the song ended and he stepped back from you. 

“Taylor, if ya would be willin’, I’d like to spend more time with ya.” Tommy spoke, something sparkling in his eye. 

You swore you knew that look, it was the same look you always gave to targets, to draw them in and make them trust you. To make them do as you said. Before you could even think about it, your mouth opened. 

“I’d love that, Tommy.” You smiled, willing that feeling of mistrust to go away. 

You deserved this, to enjoy him. Even if he was wrong, even if he was your target. You had never wanted love, you had always wanted other things for yourself. But you wanted Tommy, and so for tonight, you would allow yourself to have him. 

- 

“What’ll ya have to drink, Love?” Tommy spoke, turning his entire body towards you. 

He had taken you to a place called The Garrison, which you knew he frequented, but ‘Taylor’ had to act like she’d never heard of it. You’d spent many nights holed up in the dark back corner of this bar, watching him and his brothers pass in and out of the back room. 

“Just a whiskey, please,” You smiled at him, “Whatever kind you’re having is fine.” 

“So and Irish then?” He asked, and you nodded your head in response. 

At least that wasn’t a lie, you did enjoy whiskey on occasion, but never while you had been working. Always the professional, you were thinking of how to use this to your advantage. Drunk Tommy would surely divulge some sort of weakness? Right? 

Tommy grabbed your drinks, and led you to the backroom of the pub. The room was empty, now except for the two of you. He sat down, choosing the table that was circled by a booth seat. He sat with his back to the door, which was an interesting choice that didn’t go unnoticed by you. You sat on the opposite side of the semicircle, and that small creeping feeling came back into your mind. You knew him, more than he would ever know. Thomas Shelby would never put himself at a disadvantage, never. So why put his back to the only door in the room? Why let you be the one with a clear path to escape if somehow this all went wrong? Was he that confident in his ability to charm and wow you, that he would dangle an exit in front of your face, only to be sure that you wouldn’t take it? Your brain was running a thousand words a second, never letting up on the thought that Tommy, who had yet to show any hint of cruelty towards you, was one step ahead. Had he figured you out? It wasn’t possible, your father made sure you stayed hidden until he wanted you to be seen, and even then, you were only seen by those you wanted to see you. How would he have known you were an operative for your father? Did your stumble earlier when he said your alias give you away? Was it the way that you clearly did not belong in the crowd at that party, feet slightly swollen by the tight heels, shoulders hunched over due to the many days you spent curled in a chair by the window? How could he have kn-

“Drink, Love. A blind man could see that somethings on your mind. What is it?” He spoke, sliding a glass of whiskey across the table toward you.

You shakily wrapped your fingers around the glass, pulling it to your lips and taking a long sip. 

“It’s nothin’, just reliving some family troubles in my head. I’d much rather be focused on you though.” You said, allowing a sultry tone to enter your voice; men could never resist. 

“If it's botherin’ ya, it’s not nothing. Tell me about it, believe me, I understand family troubles.” He laughed, taking a swallow from his own glass. 

“I don’t want to rehash it, Tommy, if it’s all the same to you.” You put a stern face on, not liking him questioning you. 

He raised his hands in an apologetic movement, sitting back in his seat. He grazed his eyes across your face, looking over you. Suddenly you felt small, sitting in front of him, telling him half-lies and half-truths. Not that he’d ever know, but you did. The realization that you felt bad for lying to him shot a sharp pain of sadness through your chest, only to be beaten by the overwhelming sense of anger that you felt for feeling bad at all. This was a job, and while yes, you had agreed to let yourself enjoy tonight, that didn’t mean forgetting your assignment. 

“Tell me about you, Tommy. You have this sense of mystery that I can’t figure out for the life of me.” You said, tracing your fingertip around the rim of your glass. 

“Not much to tell, darlin’. I live here in Birmingham with my family, we run a small business. No mum or dad to speak of, I spend a lot of time here, just watchin’.” He spoke, and you felt like he was telling the truth. 

Not that he had said anything you didn’t already know, you knew about his mom and dad, and you knew a hell of a lot about his ‘small business’ as he put it. You knew all about his family, you had almost decided to go for Arthur instead of Tommy, but then you realized that just because Arthur was older didn’t mean he was in charge, and then Tommy became your main target. 

You nodded your head at him, storing all of the information he had said in exact detail in your brain. Tommy studied you, almost as if he was doing the same thing you were. Except now, you thought that he was only studying you because he was interested in you. He watched your eyes, holding contact anytime you accidentally met his. He looked at your cheeks, your mouth, all the way down to your slightly exposed collar bones. He gave you another moment, before speaking up again. 

“Would you like to dance with me, Love?” He asked, extending his hand to you. 

“There’s no music Tommy, what do ya want to dance to?” You laughed, accepting his hand into yours regardless. 

A spark of electricity flew between your connected fingertips, and instead of flinching, you pulled him closer. Now standing in front of him, you had forgotten how tall he was in the short time the both of you had been sitting. 

“I was thinking you could sing, or I can hum if that’ll suffice. I just want to dance with you, Taylor.” He spoke, his shining eyes looking into yours with what seemed like only adoration. 

“Start humming then, Tommy, because I can’t carry a tune in a bucket,” you laughed, “My mother could sing wonderfully, but I never inherited that talent.”

Tommy began to hum, a soft song coming from his lips. It sounded familiar, but you couldn’t place it. Not that it mattered, if you ever recognized the song, this would be the moment it was tied to. This second in time, burned into your brain for the rest of your life. His hands delicately on your waist, with your hung over his shoulders. Your fingers lightly scratching the nape of his neck while he rubbed his hand up and down your back, slowly swaying the both of you in rhythm to the song he was creating. The skirt of your dress swishing around the both of your feet, the quieted sounds of the pub outside going silent in your mind. Here, in your space, it was only you and Tommy. Over the years, you had charmed countless men, telling them anything they wanted to hear, even doing some of the questionable things they wanted to do. Whatever it took to get the job done. This felt different though, this felt soft and warm and inviting. Tommy felt like he belonged in your arms, and that if he were to leave them, the awkward limbs would never fit against your side again. He felt like a home, a breath of fresh air, a lover. This was romantic and sweet, and the longing in his eyes and gentle touch of his hands only escalated that feeling for you. 

Tommy stopped humming a few minutes later, but he continued swaying with you in his grasp. He leaned his head towards yours, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your hair. You nuzzled your head into his chest, inhaling the scent of tobacco and whiskey. He let his lips linger on your crown, not moving from his spot. 

“I think I should take ya home, aye Love? It’s pretty early in the morning.” He softly said, almost not speaking loud enough to hear. 

“If that’s what you want, Tommy. I’d be content to stay here dancing with you for a very, very long time.” You tilted your head up at him. 

Tommy slid his hands up your back and over your shoulders, ending with his palms against your cheeks. He stared into your eyes for the hundredth time that evening, and there was something unfamiliar in them. Whatever he was feeling, you couldn’t read it, but you didn’t care. All caution and sense gone to the wayside, you perched on your tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He deepened the kiss, pulling your entire body into his. The two of you fit together perfectly, bodies molding into each other, forming one being. This kiss was only your second kiss ever, so there wasn’t much to compare to, but it was mind blowing. His warmth spreading all over your body, from your connected lips to the spots his hands rested to the way he had situated you with your legs on either side of one of his lean legs. 

Eventually you pulled away, finally needing air. He still cupped your face, both of your foreheads pressed together. His chest was heaving, panting breaths coming from both of your mouths. 

“It’s time to get you home, Love. Before I lose all composure and ruin this perfect night.” He breathed, untangling your bodies and pulling his face from yours. He still held your hand, leading you toward the door that would lead into the main pub, then out of the bar altogether. You took in the scene one last time, knowing that this could never happen again after tonight. You had let your ambitions slip, almost too far to come back from. Your heart beat wildly, the organ not caring about the betrayal you were imposing upon your father. How could you care about that miserable man, when the God that was Thomas Shelby was holding your hand, escorting you to your apartment? 

Tommy deposited you at the door to your small apartment, the walk to your home having been mostly silent. No words needed to be shared between the two of you, both of you having the dreading feeling of something coming. You didn’t know what was coming, but none of it mattered as he pressed his lips gently to your cheek, before pulling back to speak. 

“I had a wonderful time tonight, Love. Would you mind if I called you sometime to do it again one day?” He smiled, softly rubbing your cheek with his thumb. 

“I’d love that, Tommy.” You grinned back, writing your phone number down onto a small piece of paper you had in your purse. 

He took the paper, pressing one last kiss to your lips. His mouth was firm against yours, yet it moved so softly and swiftly that the fierceness in his actions didn’t scare you. Your body reacted, back arching into him while your mouth matched his movements. You gripped the side of his face, daring him to try and back away before you were done with him. His hands clasped around your waist, tugging on your already arched back, trying to get you as close to him as possible. The both of you tugged and moved against each other, not caring that you were in a hallway and that any neighbor, all of whom worked for your father, could step out at any moment. Almost sensing your tensing, Tommy slowly pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes while his chest heaved. 

“I’ll see you later, Tommy?” You asked, hoping and praying that he’d say yes. 

“Goodbye, Taylor.” He smiled, kissing your hands before turning and walking down the hallway, your paper still tucked in his left hand. 

-

It had been four days since you met Tommy, and two days since you started being paranoid. You would not leave your machine unattended for more than 10 minutes at a time, and when you had to leave its side for things like food and cleaning yourself, you made sure no other noise was going on so that you’d be able to hear it when it rang. He had to call eventually, he had said he would. You knew he was a lot of things, but a liar was not one of his descriptors in his file. He had never been known as a man who didn’t tell the truth, his truthfulness was honestly one of his greatest downfalls. It got him in trouble quite often, causing him to blurt off whatever he was thinking, with no care for the consequences. 

This time wasn’t different, right? Surely he didn’t charm you all night, walk you home, ask for your number, make out with you outside the door of your apartment, then just not call? 

The anxiety had begun to take its toll, your skin becoming more pale and dreary than usual, eyes slightly hollowing from the lack of proper food and sleep. No time could be wasted, not when he could call at any hour. You waited, and waited, and waited. He would remember what the two of you shared, surely. He would. 

-

On day seven, you found a small paper slid under your door. It wasn’t from your fathers office, and you didn’t recognize any of your few friends stationary. Cautiously, you unfolded it, reading the words scrawled in ink. 

‘Taylor, or should I say Y/N, I hope this letter finds you well. Truly. However, I do not like being lied to. You have not received any calls from me because I never intended to call you. I let my wits leave me that night, and it will never happen again. You are not who you said you were, and for that I cannot ever trust you again. If you ever see me in Birmingham, do not approach me and pray my brothers do not see you first. I liked you, Darling, I am damn near certain I loved you, but that does not matter if I cannot trust you. I know who your father is, I have known from the moment I saw you smoking in that courtyard, yet you were so beautiful I could not help myself. Do not worry, for your sake, I will not speak of this to anyone if you do not. If you do, I will know, and I will be forced to retaliate. I wish you the best in this life, Love. 

All the best, 

Thomas Shelby

& The Peaky Blinders’ 

You dropped the paper, letting it flutter to the floor. Tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks. How could you ever be so foolish? You had let this man control your life for the past seven days, dictating how you ate, how you slept, how you looked at yourself. Every doubt of his character from that night came rushing back. You had been right to think those things of him, to not trust him, but he was so beautiful and gentle, and he sucked you in. He devoured you, and you were happy to offer yourself up for him. You would have been happy to do anything he asked of you. 

Your breaths began to become short and exasperated, your face hot and wet from the tears. It felt like a chokehold around your throat, but there were no hands on your throat but your own. You clawed at your skin, willing it to tear open just so you could breathe, but it didn’t happen. You scratched and scratched until you bled, only stopping when you saw the crimson underneath your fingernails. Breathing still did not come, so you laid on the floor, sobbing and heaving, until you had no more tears and oxygen entered your lungs once more. You clung to the piece of paper, the last bit of Tommy you would ever have. You could not have him, but you had his words and his handwriting. You had the faintest smell of him in the paper, the littlest bit of him still with you. His words would be all that you were left with, while he was saddled with his love and your guilt. You wished you had just told him your name, just told him who you were. Damn all of this if it meant you could have him, but it was too late. You would never get to see him again, never get to smell him, never get to touch him. You would never have any part of Tommy Shelby ever again except for this letter and your memories. No man would compare to him, no man could. The way he held you, the way conversation was so effortless and comfortable. The way that even in silence, he filled up a space, never letting you feel alone. He was something so special, so tangible, and you had lost him. There would never be another love for you, never be anyone else. He was your love, even if only for that night, and you knew in your soul that you would never love again. 

[unfriendlyamazon]

lavender (fanfic)

pairing: Marik Ishtar/Zigfried von Schroeder

rating: T

warnings: discussions of kink (including breath play, rope, impact play, and dominant/sub roles), references to marik's abuse

expanding my yugioh relationship web, and i learned that the ship name for marik/zigfried is lavendershipping, which i adore. i wrote this as a kind of experiment, especially since i haven't written marik very much until now. still working on my headcanons and fanonizing ray but i liked this enough to share it.

....

He brings you lavender, no matter what you do to him.

Flowers decorate his halls, his clothes, his garden. The rose is his emblem, and he wears it with pride. Pink as the color of his hair, as the rosy highlight of his cheeks, of his lips as they open and gasp. The sun shines on him like a garden flower, and he blooms in its light. You like to take his love of beauty and make it ugly. Bruises turn purple then ugly yellow, you rain gold on him in humiliation, and those pink lips turn puffy and red. Roses blemish his skin with each strike, and thorns tear ribbons through his palms. In the beautiful halls of his home, with the rich dark wood, and the gold decorating the walls, and the brocades of delicate patterns, you make him ugly.

You are a creature of darkness, of dirt and pain. You were entombed before you were even born. Like a ghoul, your fingers scratched at the stone that held you beneath the earth and clawed your fingers to the bone to be free. There is a rage inside you. Your skin is tattooed against your will, scarred and mutilated to appease someone else’s vision. Some days it is too tight, and you imagine peeling the skin from your muscles until you are blood and bone.

From the moment of your birth your destiny was written in your own blood and branded to your skin so you may never forget. You were a creature lowlier than dirt, never meant to see the sun. Your whole life, you have felt like a slave. He makes you feel like a king.

You are cruel to him, you know that. Your hands make their way to his skin, pale and fragile like a porcelain doll’s, and with only a touch it blooms in pinks and reds. You lay lashes against his skin until blood wells to the surface. You hold his throat tight and watch his mouth gasp for air. Ropes leave burns on his thighs, and the tender meat on his back is decorated with bruises in the shape of your hands. Every time you leave him, he is feeble, emasculated, unable to even cry for all the emotions you’ve wrung out of him. Every time you abandon him and know you have left him ugly, abused, and he should run from you. Everyone should run from you.

And the next day he brings you lavender, because it matches the color of your eyes.

He calls you beautiful. He calls you master. He threads his fingers through the white blond of your hair and smiles as you close a fist around his throat. He says hurt me, begs for it, until his mouth encircles you and you ensure he can speak no more. When you slap him, his eyes fill with stars that you were never allowed to see beneath the soil. When daylight touches him, it shows the ugly marks you’ve left behind, and he revels in how beautiful he finds them. He says he is your canvas, that you are an artist. You tell him to leave and he begs for you to stay. He finds you, crawling on hands and knees, crying for you to take him. You are forced to oblige. A king must tend to his subjects.

And now your life is full of flowers. He brings bouquets, his own roses, but others as well. Gardenias are for secrets, he tells you as he buttons his shirt over this bruised back. Hibiscus is for delicate beauty, like the shape of your eyes, and the curve of your hip. Lily-of-the-valley represent tears, and he holds them to his face so you can see the way they drop from his eyes so beautifully. It’s the wild roses he likes to add, both pain and pleasure at the same time. Lavender, he tells you, is for peace, as though you ever bring him that, but he tells you too it is for devotion. You watch him tut and fuddle and place the bouquets in the perfect spot so the sunlight reaches them. You wait for them to die and rot so you can shatter the pretty vases against the ground, but he never lets them. He is diligent with it. He removes the old ones without you even seeing. They are always fresh, they are always lovely, and they always mean something.

You have rarely known devotion. Those that serve you do so because they want to touch your power, and the only person who has ever taken on your pain has done so out of want of what you have. Now, every night, every hour if you wished it, there is someone who wants your pain, not because you are first born son, not because of your lineage, but because that pain brings him pleasure. He has everything. You sleep in his mansion, on his silk sheets, touching the luxurious fabrics he offers to buy for you, with stables and gardens and a legacy built on power, not servitude. He gives it all up to you. He wants it to be yours.

You linger longer. You draw baths with rose petals on the surface. You wash his skin and apply balm to his wounds. He thanks you. He says this is what love should feel like.

This is how love has always felt to you. It is a thing of cruelty, but this is the first time you have felt that that’s okay. That to say someone deserves it is not a punishment. It is a blessing. It is freedom. And your rage and your anger, that is freedom too, not to be scared of, but to accept and use. Your hands, with filth and blood beneath the nails, are not weapons. Not anymore than he wants them to be.

You sleep in his bed, breathing in the smell of lavender.

[psychelis-new]

Hi hii✨ how are you? So I just woke up from a dream and I would like to have your input on it. I think it was abroad in a school with artistic fields and I've seen people that I know in that dream it's like we were friends who knew each other before and luckily got into the same school abroad. I remember seeing flowers and I was enchanted by them cause I've never really saw them in my country , I remember they were roses big ones and multiple on the ground. The ones I remember we're purple ones and white ones with yellow in the middle ( I'm not sure the latter are daisies tho idk) Also i missed my family and I called my mom and was emotional telling her I want to come back home lol and I briefly remember telling her I made dresses? I remember entering a classroom and seing my friends excited telling me to come and see something and once there they introduced me to famous people I guess .. saying they made Nintendo 😭 they were young just like us ( that school is a creative one ) they were many of them and there was a guy who was talking and smiling to us (like flirting)and it's weird but I woke up after and immediately thought bout my husband after seeing that guy lol. There's this scene tho where there was a friend who was a photographer of some sort I think that was her field and she was telling us that she had a shoot for 2h or something like that and me my little aunts and I were gossiping and they showed me a picture of one of their friends who participated to some sort of competition for misses ( she probably earned the title of miss somewhere) and was wearing a white dress or something. That's all I think. Thank you🫶

Nb: there are some things I related to in the dream that may happen in the future that I'm going to tell you about them later on, I would like to see your interpretation first if you don't mind. also I've noticed that sometimes I think I have prophecy dreams idk😭

Hello,

Tbh dreams may be influenced by our desires (dreams are a conscious mind's window on our unconscious), so you saying that you relate to some of the things in the dream and that those may happen in your future, may actually change the interpretation (ofc they may also just act as a "trigger" for something, generally an emotion/issue, and appear in the dream only as a symbol). Since you don't want to share beforehands, I'm gonna just follow what I get. Let's see

You may have been stressing over something or overworking yourself and now you need to take a break from that. It could be about being "overwhelmed by others" (your relationships) tbh but you're kinda learning how to deal with them, how to behave/accept others (and yourself?) and maybe you're creating new connections both with yourself and others and this is creating some type of comfort within you. It's like some things are changing for you and it's kind of making you feel better. Or if it's not yet happening, it may be indeed related to your future: an upcoming change and new strong relationships may flourish for you next (maybe the advice here it's to just try to take a break and comfort/work on yourself while waiting for the next step). I think that while in the process (so either now or next) you may be feeling like going back to your old habits, falling into old patterns or something (which is entirely normal, so please don't beat yourself up but keep being kind with yourself and show yourself compassion and support). Remember (whether this is about your actual relationship with your mother or not) that you can learn to interact in a different way at anytime, being more authentic with yourself and others too. Maybe you wish for your mother to talk this way with you as well? I'm not sure if that's the relationship that is specifically overwhelming you or not, but I hope you keep in mind we cannot heal or change/control others anyway. Not sure if you struggle being seen and you need to behave in a certain way to feel so but please remember it starts from within you and being aware of your needs and fears. You don't have to necessarily look outside or in a specific person (that probably cannot give you what you need, especially if you don't ask for it). You can mother yourself in the meantime even if it's tough. I think you are now eager to meet new people and be the person you want to be: someone seen and loved, appreciated, wanted. It's like you want something to happen irl so badly, indeed meeting new people, being a new person, being successful and meeting your bf/husband (love in general). A new start? You're probably in a learning phase about your wants though, or about how to make them come true. But it's possible that your present relationships are blocking/caging you and making you daydream about that future to the point that everything is becoming stressful? (maybe that future is more of an escape for now?) i think you need to stop for a moment and find balance within as it seems you probably feel bad/guilty about something you may have done too. Realize why you did that (prolly just because of your need to feel seen and recognized/appreciated) and try to close with the past and forgive yourself. You're worthy, you don't have to compare with anyone else and you'll have everything you wish for but please forgive yourself, take a break and focus on you and not others. Try to accept yourself entirely (we all do something bad here and there, we all aren't perfect and make mistakes... we're just learning and trying) and really forgive yourself and move on (take your time ofc and always be nice with yourself: indeed try to mother yourself).

Take good care and stay hydrated! You deserve lot of love now, give yourself plenty. And rest well.

Not sure if you can find this of help or not but yeah...

[taketwoinink]

84 years??? Wow Crystal, you're

you thought you were safe on tumblr but you're never safe

thanks for the tag and on to the questions!

Do you play an instrument? - I do!!! I played the violin for 6 (or 7, I don't remember) years. I haven't touched it in a while because I left the orchestra group I was in. Also, I broke my G string and replacing that costs money and I am a broke potato. And my tuning pegs desperately need replacing because they are fickle beasts. So currently, the violin sits unused until I have money to spare on fixing it up. I have to admit, I'm actually a decent violinist! Never got the hang of vibrato but one day! - I also play the kalimba! I am very bare basics beginner and I forgot to practice all the time, but it's such a gorgeous instrument (and much lower maintenance than a violin is) - I also own a ukulele (thanks to Kit who gave me it!) that I can't play because I cannot for the life of me figure out how to strum without tearing up my fingers - I also have a steel tongue drum! That I don't know how to play yet. - Ocarina! (I figured out how to blow into it and make a decent sound, but that's as far as we've gotten). One day, I'll master them all and everyone will bow before my musical prowess.

Favorite book character? - I... I haven't read a book in so long *cries* (unless you count graphic novels and audio books, which I do not) - If I can cheat and say a TV show character though, then Adrien from Miraculous (Felix and Chloe are close seconds).

What’s your star sign? - Sagittarius but I disowned my star sign. We don't get along Favourite colour schemes? - almost forgot to answer this one! I love purple with black, I love light gray with white, I love green with black (bet you can't guess why), uhhh anything that's dark but colorful accents I like. Earth tones can be really fun when they're done right. Did I mention purple? I love purple. Oh oh and orange and pink. Like sunset, peach shades. Love them! And yellow and white when it's like elegant and light, very pretty. Colours are just amazing actually. I love colours!

Naps or long sleep? - In an ideal world, long sleep. But, my world is far from ideal so I am a very big fan of napping. Took one today actually (was not as restful as I'd hoped)

What languages do you speak? - If we're talking in terms of fluency, then I speak some pretty good gibberish! (I'm a native English speaker). I took German for... four years, question mark? But all I can do is call you a potato or order five pizzas soooo...

Dreams/aspirations? - SO MANY! SO MANY! Ahhhh I wanna go out and live life and live it to the fullest! I want to become a silversmith, I want to amass hundreds of written fics on AO3 (and I want at least one of them to become well renowned), I want to meet my tumblr friends in person, I want to climb a tall mountain so I can say that I did, I want to confuse everyone who sees me because they can't tell what gender I am, I want to write my stories in a coffee shop, I want to make original music, I want to learn how to sing so I can belt Defying Gravity without sounding like a toad, I want to have the most aesthetic cozy happy house, I want to be happy, I want to make art commissions for people, I want to visit as many different countries as I can, I want to be satisfied with each day that I'm living even the quiet ones, I want to take public transport to work every day, I want to smile at everyone I meet, I want to be a supportive adult figure one day for queer kids like me who didn't find the love they needed at home, I want to be able to say I love myself every day and not hesitate and mean it every time, I want to run through a meadow screaming at the top of my lungs, I want to dance like no one is watching, I want to learn to make flower crowns, I want to make my own cosplay costumes and attend fan events, I want to learn sign language, I want to have the coolest decorated house on Halloween, I want to be Fae's roommate, I also want to be Kit's roommate, I want to make an acrylic painting that is just so beautiful, I want a handpan, I want to get really good at all my instruments, I want to do my laundry consistently instead of all at the last minute, I want to have a platonic 'wedding' that's just an excuse to have a great big wedding-like party and I want everyone to wear fantasy clothes and it'll be outside and we'll sword fight with pool noodles, AND I WANT TO PET EVERY DOGGO (and kitty!!) THAT I EVER SEE - I could keep going xD - Basically, life is beautiful and full of opportunities and I want to live it!

Long hair or short hair? - Short. But also having long hair with a drastic undercut sounds amazing. But also- short hair and slaying right now

Tea or coffee? - So, I don't drink caffeine for a variety of reasons but I do drink herbal tea! I love me some tea with lots of honey even though I don't like honey all that much. It's so aesthetic. And delicious. And the fact that tea kettles scream at you when your water is done will never cease to delight me

Bring a book character to life or go into the fictional world? - Go to a fictional world, unless I couldn't come back to this one. Because like Crystal said, I'd love to have an adventure, but also I'm kind of attached to Earth? I like so many people and things here. And bringing a book character to life would be epic, but I also wouldn't want to drag them away from everything they knew and leave them in a life that isn't theirs with no one that they knew or loved from their story.... I made this question depressing, oops. tagging! @quodekash @generalluxun (only if you would like to!) @skyisverybored (absolutely no pressure, feel free to ignore this if you don't want to do it, I won't be offended <3) @lilywolfgray @cauchemarlena @catkin-morgs (you're an awesome person by the way. Just wanted to tell you that) @moony4pads @eleilinnrallin @chaserofstarsandtheabyss @ipso-again @secretsinthevoid That's a lot of people... but if anyone else wants to join in.... please feel free!

thank you @depressedchameleon22 for the tag <3

do you play an instrument? yes i play the piano. i hvnt played it in years tho. also i was learning the guitar but rn i dont hv one so

favourite book characters? charlie from the perks of being a wallflower.

what's your star sign? cancer

favourite colour schemes? orange/wine red/tree green/creamy. basically picnic in the fall disjdkjd

naps or long sleep? long sleep bc when i nap then i cannot sleep at night

what languages do you speak? english and persian

dreams/aspirations? i wanna be a youtuber, i want to write a book, i want to work at an ngo, i hv many dreams actually jfjnsjd

long hair or short hair? for myself? short hair bc rn long hair gives me dysphoria. ive never actually had long hair. id cut it before it got too long everytime. for others tho both diskjsj

tea or coffee? tea. coffee makes me gassy djskskdkjd

bring a book character to life or go into a fictional world? go into a fictional world. probably a chill one where adventure and personal life is separate. like u can hv funa and then come home to a cup of tea and ur wife

do this if u want to <3

[golden-barnes]

Plum tarts and red carnations

Pairing: Florist! Bucky Barnes x F! Reader

Summary: Bucky is enamored with one of the employees of the bakery in front of his store.

Category: Fluff

Warning:s some self-doubting thoughts and cursing .

Word count: 2.5k

Author’s note: I have been thinking about this since that one anon and thank you @buckycuddlebuddy because you helped to inspire me further with this. Also think of Bucky as Beefy because I'm a softy for a gentle giant. Comment and reblog pls and thank you!

“Damn Jerry. You’ve been growing nicely. A little bit more, and you will be ready to find a new home, bud.” Bucky whispered to the little sprout he was watering. Bucky loved his morning routine.

Before opening up his shop, he would check on his nursery. Water the plants in his greenhouse, checking them to see how they have grown. He liked talking to them; they never judged him or ignored him. He even named them. Sam would help, too, though he treated it more as a joke.

After checking on the nursery, he would focus on making bouquets and arrangements for the store. Nobody knew he was the one who made those beautiful arrangements, and he liked it.

It was like therapy for him. Matching the flowers and creating bouquets with meaning was a talent Bucky didn’t know he had. By this point, the shop was opened and ready for business.

While preparing a rose bouquet, he saw a woman in an apron running out of the new coffee shop from the table next to the cash register. Oh shit, she’s pretty. He thought. He kept staring at her and forgot the fresh roses next to him, grabbed one carelessly.

“Fuck.” He accidentally pricked his finger with a thorn. He applied pressure to his wounded finger.

“Oh, are you okay, sir?” The pretty woman from the bakery asked. Bucky didn’t notice her entering the shop, and now she was here. Looking disheveled but incredibly beautiful.

“Yeah, happens all the time. What can I help you with?” He said, trying to sound as composed as possible. He could hear Sam’s voice in his head. “Play it cool, Buck.”The woman let out a sigh.

“I’m co-owner of the coffee shop, and it’s our opening day. I was encharged of the decorations, and I ordered some flowers from this other place, but when they got here, they were horrible. Like really bad. And oh god, I’m rambling, but I need a brand new arrangement.” She said all in one breath. Bucky had to fight a smile from appearing. Adorable.

“It’s okay. What colors did you want?” Bucky asked. The woman smiled at him.

“We wanted white and purples. Something simple. But honestly, I know nothing of flowers. I don’t understand why Wanda put me up with this? Now we are late, and I still have to finish decorating the cupcakes.” She explained while Bucky started to search for the flowers in his shop.

“Lilacs, with white peonies and lavender roses, would make a nice bouquet. How does that sound?” Bucky showed her the flowers he was referring to. The woman gasped.

“Oh, they are so pretty! You, sir, are a genius.” She gushed, still looking at the flowers. Bucky felt his cheeks getting red from receiving praise.

“I can bring it to you,” Buckywhispered, afraid that she might not like that idea. “You know, because you still have some stuff to finish, so you can do it, and I’ll bring it to you in less than 10 minutes.” She looked at him and went to hug him. Bucky tensed, not expecting the hug, but soon relaxed.

“You are literally my hero. Just ask for Y/N,” She said, walking towards the exit. “Wait, what’s your name?” She added, opening the door to leave.

“Bucky.” Y/N smiled at him. “See you later, Bucky.”

Bucky has never worked on an arrangement as hard as this one. He was already meticulous, but he really wanted to impress Y/N. Can you blame him? The pretty girl needed his help, and he wanted her to be happy. He even added some baby’s breath and this new white ribbon that had come in for weddings. He was very proud of it but also very nervous.

With a deep breath, Bucky entered the coffee shop. A brunette was at the door, cleaning the tables.

“Sorry, Sir. We are still aren’t open.” She said. Bucky gulped.

“Uhm. I’m looking for Y/N.” He told her; she looked at the flowers in his hands and understood. She yelled for Y/N, who came out of the kitchen with icing on her check, giving him the brightest smile.

“Hey, Bucky! That’s beautiful! How did you make such a pretty arrangement in less than 20 minutes?” She grabbed the vase out of his hands and set it on the counter. Bucky blushed and scratched his neck, shying away.

“It’s nothing.. I’m just happy you liked it.”

“How much do I owe you?” She asked. Bucky put his hands up.

“Oh, it’s on the house. Don’t worry. Call it a welcome gift.” He explained; Y/N jumped and gave him another hug. This time Bucky wrapped his arms around her.

“You are the nicest person on this fucking planet. I have to make it up to you. What’s your favorite fruit?” She pulled away from him and looked at Bucky in the eye. Bucky felt his breath hitch, and his palms get sweaty.

“I-I like plums.” He stuttered. She gave him a big smile and handed him a cookie.

“Hmm, I can make something with that.” She winked at him.

-

“I still haven’t named you, but honestly, I don’t know. You look like a Janelle, but also, I feel like that doesn’t fit.” Bucky said to the new cactus that arrived yesterday, in the afternoon.

“I think she looks like a Lucille.” Bucky turned around and saw Y/N with a box in hand.

“Oh, hi.” He felt embarrassed. She had heard him talk to his plants. Not even Steve had seen that. It was his private thing.

“She’s cute. What type of cactus is it?” She looked at it, not looking weirded out or anything.

“It’s called a Bishop’s cap. They grow to be very pretty and sprout a yellow flower. Not very popular in the shop, but there’s this new cactus crazy going on, and I thought to stock up.” Bucky explained, putting the cactus down next to the others.

“Do you name all your plants?” Bucky gulped and turned around to face her.

“Yeah, and talk to them too.” Bucky fought the urge to punch himself. Why would he say that? Fuck, now she is gonna think he is a fucking weirdo.

Much to his surprise, she smiled at him. She suddenly remembered the box she brought and opened it.

“For saving me yesterday, I made you a plum tart.” She opened it and pulled out the tart. Bucky felt his heart beating faster, and his hands get clammy.

“You didn’t have to.” “Ah! I beg to differ. Everyone that walked into our shop loved the flowers. They were really something. Like I couldn’t stop looking at them. So I had to show you my gratitude the only way I know how. With treats.”

“I couldn’t possibly eat that all alone. Want to share?” Bucky asked, giving her puppy eyes so she wouldn’t say no.

“You drive a hard bargain, Bucky. Has anyone ever told you can get away with murder with those eyes?” Y/N joked.

“I think my grandma’ probably said it. I have some silverware in the shop’s kitchen. When you have to be at your shop?” Bucky said, signaling her to follow him.

“I’m on break—perks of being the boss.” She explained while Bucky grabbed a few paper plates, forks, and a knife. She grabbed the knife and cut a big piece, and gave it to Bucky. Then she cut a piece for herself.

Bucky took a bite and accidentally let out a moan.

“I take it; you like it.” She winked at Bucky. He diverted his gaze from her. Why the fuck did I do that? Bucky screamed internally.

“It’s delicious. I can see why your shop has been packed since yesterday. Reminds me of my ma’s.” Bucky admitted.

“I’m glad, but I can’t take all the credit. You should see the coffee mixes Wanda came up with. They are the real star.” Bucky smiled at her. Nice and pretty… She let out a cough.

“How did you get really good with plants? Like sorry for the personal question, but you have a talent.” She inquired.

“Well, uhm. After getting discharged, my friend Sam suggested that I take classes to handle stress and PTSD. One of the classes was gardening, and I just found it so calming. So I started taking more courses and learning ‘till I decided to start my own business. I don’t think I could ever work anywhere else.” Bucky noticed her staring at him. “What?” He said, smiling awkwardly at her.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how you are the nicest man I’ve ever meet.” She said nonchalantly. Bucky chuckled.

“It’s nothing major. I just found my calling.” Bucky stated.

“I feel the same. I baked a lot in college, and then suddenly I was like fuck, this is what I want to do for the rest of my life.” She recalled. Her eyes glowed under the light of the kitchen.

“I felt the same way when I started this shop.” Bucky admitted, she bit back a smile.

“By the way, I like the name—Howling’s flowers. Oh, and how pretty this store is, it looks like I walked in a magical forest.” She complimented.

“I- thanks. I named my store after my squad and the decor well; that’s kind of an embarrassing story.” Bucky chuckled nervously. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please. I own a coffee shop named Magic café, and all of our items are named after magical things. I am the last person to judge.” Bucky bit his lip nervously while listening to her.

“I based it on The Hobbit. It was my favorite book when I was younger, and I just couldn’t imagine decoring this store anyway else.” Y/N looked at him with an open mouth.

“Okay, are you government android? Because you are friendly, great with plants and well-read. You are too good to be true.” She laughed. Bucky needs to find a way to blush less in her presence because this is like the fourth or fifth time it has happened.

They finished eating their pieces of tart and talking for a while. Y/N decided to go back to the shop, not realizing how much time she spent there. Before leaving, Bucky gave her some more lavender roses.

“Oh, Bucky, you don’t have to.” She protested.

“It’s just to add to the arrangement. I feel like it was missing a few more roses. You’ll be doing me a favor.” He assured. She grabbed the flowers and smelt them before smiling and giving him a small thanks.

Little did she know that lavender Roses mean love at first sight.

They played that little game for weeks, almost 2 months. Y/N would take her lunch break at Bucky’s shop. Feed him some food and pastries that she was experimenting with, and he would give her flowers.

“To put on the counter. Your store deserves fresh flowers every day.” Bucky claimed. But in actuality, all the flowers meant something. The white camellias? He was telling her that he admired her. The amaryllis? That he found you beautiful. The white and purple stocks? A silent plea for bonds of affection from your part. But he couldn’t bring himself to say these things out loud.

Speaking to Y/N in flowers was much easier. Maybe because she didn’t know and couldn’t reject him.

“Bucky, you gotta tell her, man.” Steve would try to reason with him. “She likes you; you like her. Just tell her that you like her or ask her out on a date.”

“You don’t get it, Steve.” Bucky would argue, which led to an entire discussion on how Bucky is being a coward that ended with him telling Steve and Sam to fuck off.

But they were right; it was simple. She has been an absolute doll with him. She doesn’t mind hearing his rants about the new book he read and helped him water his plants. She even bought waterproof labels to put their names on their planters. She even asked (more like demanded) Bucky to send her the pictures of every bouquet and arrangement he made. She loved seen his creations.

And he loved being her test subject. She would bring him new pastries to try. He was her official taste tester. Anything new in the store, Bucky had already tried it in every one of its variations. Y/N would speak to him of all of her special interests and all of her new hobbies. He had even met all her friends, and they loved him.

So why was this so difficult? Bucky groaned while arranging the flowers at the front of the shop.

“What’s got you all groaning and gloomy, Bucky-bear?” Y/N asked him. She looked radiant in her work clothes. Ugh, Bucky had it bad.

“Nothing, j-just thinking.” He nervously replied.

“Don’t overthink. You might over-heat your brain, bubs.” She joked, entering Bucky’s shop. And like the hopeless romantic he is, he followed.

“Soooooooo I have been trying out this new pasta recipe, and you are the only one I trust to give me the truth.” She said, opening the Tupperware she brought. Bucky’s heart fluttered at her words. He felt light-headed; maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth.

“I like you.” He blurted out. He slapped his hand over his mouth. Y/N turned to him, widen eyes, and mouth gaped.

“Bucky, do you mean that? Because if you are playing with me, I will fight you with this.” She warned Bucky, threatening with a spoon.

“I like you a lot. Actually love you. I- that’s what those flowers meant.” Bucky explained. Y/N put down the spoon.

“What flowers?” She asked, in the softest tone he has ever heard her speak in. Bucky turned his gaze to the floor, embarrassed that this was his confession.

“All of them. They all meant love in one form or the other.” He admitted. Y/N stood in front of him and put her hand on his cheek. He felt his heart do backflips.

“What flower means I’m in love with you, Bucky?” She asked, caressing his cheek.

“Maybe red carnations.” He joked, leaning into her touch.

“I’ll ask this handsome florist with a heart of gold to make me a bouquet to give you.” Bucky chuckled while she let out a little giggle.

“I would love a bouquet, but I would much rather have a plum tart from the sexy baker on the store out front.” Y/N hummed.

“I think I can make that happen.” She said, pulling him closer. “Can I kiss you, Bucky?” She asked; Bucky could only nod.

She grabbed his face and pressed her lips against his. Bucky wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer, molding her body against him. Their lips gliding over each other smoothly, as if they were made for each other.

They pulled away to take a breath, and they both had the same dopey smile. Tarts and carnations. Who knew they mixed so well?

[the-hinky-panda]

The Florist: Part IV

It’s a mess, I didn’t have time to properly edit so please be forgiving! 

He’s taking up smoking again. 

Ana is passing through their living quarters and a blast of cold air hits her as she passes César’s personal office. She knows he’s already over at the Presidential Palace just a few blocks over from their temporary and sprawling residence, so she steps into his office to investigate the source of cold air. That is when she finds the window cracked open and the ashtray sitting on the windowsill. Unfortunately, she also sees the Christmas orchid drooping from the exposure to the cold. 

She shuts the window, empties the ashtray and puts it on the bookshelf before picking up the orchid and setting it carefully on a small table in one of the sunny sitting rooms. She goes about her day, planning a couple charity events, setting up appointments with planners and meeting with vendors. She’s in the middle of choosing a menu for an afternoon tea when she hears the unmistakable sound of a flower pot crashing to the floor. She excuses herself from the consultation with the caterer and makes her way back to the sunroom and sure enough, the Christmas orchid is in a pile of broken pottery and dirt on the highly polished hardwood floor. The poor maid is almost in tears when she sees Ana standing there. 

“I’m so sorry…I didn’t see…it’s not usually here…” 

Ana quickly schools her face and helps clean up the mess. “It’s my fault. I’m the one who moved it out of the office.” 

“Is the President going to be angry?” 

“No,” Ana smiles and shakes her head. “He won’t be angry at all.” 

That seems to soothe the maid. Even though César won’t be angry, he is going to feel something else: devastation. This was the orchid, the national flower of Colombia, that you had gifted him when he had won the Presidency. He had it in his personal office for the last three and a half years. It was beyond special to him, a symbol of your faith in him and his leadership. 

She runs her fingers over one of the white and pale pink petals, broken in the fall. He has suffered so many setbacks recently. Escobar’s escape from La Catedral, Colonel Carrillo’s death…Eduardo’s resignation. He’s losing hope, losing faith. She wants to fix this, give him hope and renew his strength. But as she stares at the decorative pieces of terracotta and bruised petals, she realizes she is no longer the person who can do that. 

But she knows who can. 

***

You have no idea what you’re doing. 

Ana had called you that afternoon and your heart had stopped. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint the specific fear you had but there were plenty. She’s changed her mind and wants to remain married. He’s changed his mind and wants to rebuild the marriage. Or something worse. An assassination attempt that left him hurt, wounded, or…

But it was none of those things. 

The Christmas orchid fell off a table and couldn’t be saved. That was all. It took you a few moments to slow your heart rate and find your voice. You had a selection of Christmas orchids in varying shades of pinks, purples, and whites.  But Ana requested one that has quite a bit of yellow to it. She also was very specific about the time you were to drop off the replacement. You had spent so much time trying to decide between three particular orchids that you were almost late to the Presidential residence. 

You’ve never actually been to the residence. The Palace you were much more familiar with since your shop was the one that provided flowers for any special occasions. You personally showed up for those occasions and arranged the flowers yourself, learning all the back doors and hidden hallways between banquet halls and conference rooms. You had never stepped foot past the security gate of the residence though. 

The Residence is much smaller than the Palace but no less imposing. You give your name at the front gate, provide your identification, and wait nervously for them to wave you through. You park your car in the driveway circle in front of the main entrance and retrieve the orchid from the passenger seat. You have to go through another round of security measures, metal detectors and a thorough inspection of the flower and decorative pot. Once you’ve passed that inspection, the house manager, a stern looking woman in a dark colored suit, leads you through expansive hallways, up ornate staircases, and finally to a large sitting room. 

César is sitting in one of the chairs, a book in hand and a tumbler of whiskey on the small end table next to him. He looks much like he did when you first laid eyes on him: dressed in a suit without the jacket, rolled up shirtsleeves and that soft sweep of black hair. You can see the wear on him though, the tired lines etched into his face, the threads of gray in his hair. The presidential term has not been easy on him. 

Your hands flex against the ceramic pot as you remember the feel of his hair slipping between your fingers. It’s been almost two years now since the gas explosion that destroyed your shop but prompted César’s confession. Two years of avoiding each other, staying away from each other to keep the media at bay. Two years of painstakingly rebuilding your business, focusing on that instead of the slow movement of time until you can actually be seen together, find some kind of normalcy. So far, everything has gone in your favor: the community had rallied around you and the media had stayed far away. Now, you just needed to keep it that way for one more year. 

The Presidential Palace had also contributed to your business rebuild and you took advantage of every proposal that came across your desk. You and César would catch each other’s eye when you dropped off floral arrangements at the Palace, nodding to each other when you passed on the sidewalk when he stopped by his home. The desire to reach out to him, take his hand, slip your arms around his waist and press yourself against him, was so great. You missed him, incredibly. You saw him more frequently on television now than in real life. You fall back on the phrase that has become your mantra lately: two years are done; there is only one more to go. 

“Here,” the house manager whispers, reaching for the pot, “I will take this.” 

“What? Why?” This is the closest you’ve been to him in months and you’re not ready to leave just yet. 

“The President-” 

“Will take it himself.” 

César has abandoned his book and is moving across the space towards you. A smile starts to blossom across your face but you tamper it down, especially when you see the tight, polite smile of César’s. It’s fake and has none of the warmth that it usually holds. It creates a pit in the bottom of your stomach, an uneasy feeling again. This meeting had been set up, Ana had known César would be here, and now you’re back to wondering why she would have arranged this. For you two to see each other? Spend time together? Surely not. He is still her husband after all. 

“Thank you for delivering a new orchid,” he says stiffly, carefully extracting the plant from your grip. “I appreciate you bringing it yourself.” 

You’re still trying to figure out what is happening when he nods at the house manager and retreats to his office. You’re so stunned at the brisk formality that it takes a firm shake of your elbow from your guide to pull you out of your shock. You follow her back down the staircase and through the hallways to the main lobby where she bids you a good evening and you’re promptly directed to the front door. Numbly you make your way to your car and get behind the wheel. That’s when it hits you, why you were asked to come this evening. 

You’re not fit for this world, for his world. You’ve never had a desire to be in any sort of a spotlight. You never wanted attention or recognition. You love your modest house on the quiet street, with your private backyard and sunroom filled with plants. You are not made of the steel that withstands the public eye and its judgment. You are not skilled at small talk and tailored clothing. That is what you’re certain Ana wanted to show you: you are too small and insignificant for César’s life. 

You manage to pull out of the driveway of the Presidential Residence before pulling over two blocks away to put your head down on your steering wheel and cry. 

***

The evening passed infinitely slowly. How many nights had he felt like three hours went by in five minutes? But not tonight. The clock seemed to move backwards for him this evening. Of course it didn’t help that the hurt look in your eyes plagued him every minute from the time you left to the time he did the same. He knew he had to wait for the staff change, the skeleton crew that came in for the night shift. He’s actually become quite good at slipping through the bars of the gilded cage for a brief taste of freedom. 

Eduardo would be most displeased, a thought that brings another pang of heartbreak. 

He feels so alone. Feeling the isolation of being a leader isn’t a surprise to him; he expected it and thought he had prepared himself for it. But now, staring down the last year of his term, he sees Ana making plans to return to the States and becoming increasingly more focused on her future. He had started to lean more on Eduardo, only now, Eduardo too is setting his sights on a new, albeit shaky, future.  

Which  brings him to his own future: you. He saw the look on your face when he treated you the same way he treated any guest who crossed paths with him in the living quarters of the Presidential Residence. But how could he treat you any differently, with staff wandering around with sharp eyes and even sharper tongues? There was only one more year left before this secrecy could be shaken off and he could interact with you with the openness you deserve. 

He parks his car behind his house, the sight of the dark windows  making him feel even more miserable. He wants to go back home. He wants to go back to a time when the name Pablo Escobar wasn’t on anyone’s radar, when he was teaching economics classes at the University, and helping draft programs that would help boost Colombia’s economy. He misses the simplicity of those days, the opportunity to feel bored on a Sunday afternoon and choose how to fill that time. 

Having gathered up enough courage, he reaches for the handle to open the car door when the sky decides to open and pour down cold, sharp drops of rain. But he’s already committed to being here and doesn’t want to waste any more time sitting in his car. It’s almost midnight, you’re most likely getting ready for bed and he wants to catch you before you fall asleep. Especially before you fall asleep thinking he’s changed his mind about you and your relationship. He knows that’s what you’re thinking, that it’s over for some reason or another. He can’t get the memory of the look in your eyes out of his mind and that’s what spurns him on, trying to get to your back door as quickly as possible. 

By the time he reaches the door to your sunroom, he’s already soaked through his clothes. He can feel the cold chill of the rain reaching all the way to his skin. There’s no overhang on your sunroom, no protection from the elements, so he’s forced to keep knocking on the glass-paned door until a light turns on inside the home. Surely you wouldn’t let him stay out here in the rain and the cold. Surely you knew that he had to put on that dismissive act back at the Presidential residence. But when you finally appear at the door and swing it open, your red, puffy eyes tell a different story. He expects you to just shut the door in his face, and for a moment, the thought seems to cross your mind. But your caring nature prevails and you step to the side to let him inside the back patio. 

“Let me get a towel,” you murmur before leaving him to drip on the terracotta tile. He feels like an overwatered plant. You’re gone for a while and he wonders if you’ve just left him to drip dry. If you really did think that his brush off was sincere today, then he can’t blame you for that. But you do come back, with three towels and some dry clothes. You drop one of the towels over his head and start to vigorously rub his hair before pulling the towel down and wrapping it around his neck. The corners of your mouth quirk up slightly as you use your fingers to comb through his tousled hair and restore some neatness to it. 

“Why are you here, César?” 

He is a man of words, always has been, but at the moment, he can’t come up with one. The more time that passes, the longer the silence stretches, the more your face hardens. He needs to do something that a politician never is supposed to do: speak off the cuff. 

“I had to show you something.” 

You still look disheartened but with a touch of curiosity now. He pulls the damp card out of his pocket, relieved to see Ana’s slanted, loopy handwriting didn’t smudge in the rain. He hands it to you and watches as your tired eyes read the short note. 

I’m terribly sorry about your orchid. I did request a new one, yellow this time. She’ll know why. It’ll be dropped off at 5:30. 

Your brow furrows and you hand the note back to him. “I don’t understand. She’s apologizing about the orchid and telling you what time the new one is going to be dropped off.” 

He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. You understand the need for secrecy, of staying out of the media’s grasp, but you don’t have any idea of the lengths that he has to go to in order for that to happen. You understand the situation in practicality, not in method. He should have realized this sooner. “It’s written in code, mi amor.” 

You flinch at the term of endearment, but it’s lightning quick. “I still don’t understand.” 

“I accidentally left the window in my office open and the original orchid started to wilt. Ana moved it to the sun room to try to warm it up when a staff member knocked it over.” 

“Ana told me that already.” 

“Did she tell you why the window was open?” 

You shook your head and crossed your arms. “No. Why?” 

“I was smoking, something I only do on occasion, when things get…overwhelming.” 

“I can think of worse vices. But what does this have to do with the note?” 

You’re listening to him. You’re engaging in the conversation. He has some hope now that this may end favorably. “When she apologizes about the orchid, she’s saying she’s sorry about missing the signs of how…unhappy I’ve been lately.” 

Understanding breaks across your face. “The note is written in code.” 

“Yes. This is her way of telling me she’s sorry for not being there for me but she called someone who could be, who could offer support and comfort.” 

“Me,” your voice breaks on the word, tears glassing your eyes. 

“You.” He frowns slightly. “But I don’t understand the meaning of the color yellow. I know flowers have specific meanings, but do the colors carry meaning as well?” 

“They do, yes.” Another wave of understanding hits you and you cover your face with your hands. “Oh my God, I’m so stupid!” 

“Why?” 

“Yellow, she was very specific about the orchid having yellow on it. The color yellow stands for friendship and joy, but it can also mean new beginnings. I had thought…” 

He takes one of your hands and pulls it away from your face. He’s still soaking wet so instead of hugging you, he presses a kiss to your palm. “What did you think?” 

You sigh, weary and defeated. “I thought she asked me to come there this evening to show me that, that I don’t fit in with that world. Everything is so big and ornate and-” 

“Cold, lonely. Isolating.” He holds up the note. “We can’t even write notes to each other stating what we really mean in case someone gives it over to the media. It’s a prison and I can not wait to get out of it.” 

“So you weren’t giving me the brush off?” 

“God, no. I was trying to keep control of myself so Señora Fernandez wouldn’t get any information to pass to her journalist son. She is the biggest gossip on my staff.” 

You give him a surprised look. “That mean looking woman in the suit?” 

“Biggest gossip.” 

A laugh, small and shaky, finds its way out of your mouth. “So this isn’t over?” 

He can’t help but smile. He feels like he can breathe again, that his world has completely righted itself once more. He’s still dripping rainwater on your tile, his clothes are still wet and cold but he just can’t help himself. He pulls you closer to him and you don’t hesitate to twine your arms around his neck. “Over? We haven’t even begun yet.”

[enamouredfae]

♡ Pick a Card ♡

Advice from your Spirit Guides!

This reading is for entertainment purposes only.

This is a timeless reading for the collective, therefore it is likely that some messages will not resonate with you. Please only take the messages that do! The messages that do not, are meant for somebody else. Remember that the future is never set in stone and that you possess free will! Love you! ♡

Pile 1

Charm: Shell

You may see shells as signs from the universe. You may have Venusian placements. You have a tough exterior, but once you finally open up to people you are a hidden gem! You are a person that values privacy.

Flower: Carnation

The meaning of carnation changes depending on its colour, since this one is a stripped purple carnation, it symbolizes rejection/refusal and capriciousness. It being a dry bud, for me at least, symbolizes that this is a small issue that isn't likely to grow! You might've been refused a caprice recently, or you may have too high expectations that are likely not going to be fulfilled.

Significator: Page of Cups

Self-sufficient is the word I thought of when I saw this card. I think that at the moment you are really starting to work through your emotions, you might be finally doing some introspection, journaling, talking to people, seeing a therapist, etc. You are beginning a journey of emotional growth. You might also be receiving a message soon, be aware of any symbols that matter to you or ask the universe for certain symbols for guidance.

Astro: Virgo and Capricorn

There is a high chance that you have Virgo or Capricorn placements. You may be earth dominant. You may be Mercury/Saturn dominant/ruled. This could also apply to the person you need advice on if that is the case.

I thought of soil when I saw these cards, not a plant, but very well-nourished soil. It seems like you are making a foundation for yourself that is not rooted in anyone else, it simply comes from you. You are the soil, the water, the nutrients, and your future self is the plant. Flower crowns may be significant to you as well, or you may find great healing by connecting with nature and connecting to nature's cycles.

What you need advice on:

VI of Wands and X of Pentacles (reversed)

There are a few possibilities I see here. You may be having a hard time getting your accomplishments noticed by others, you might not receive the praise you desire or feel you deserve. Another possibility is that you may have a hard time feeling successful due to your financial situation. You may have received a large sum of money that should make you happy, but it doesn't. You may be very well off financially, but it is causing some hardships, and others might not understand these hardships because they think that they'd be very happy in your position.

Advice:

King of Pentacles and XVIII. The Moon

I feel like at least one of you should monetize your intuition. Some of you have or will meet a person (very likely an earth placement), that is either a business partner or a lover/friend, that will somehow help you with your financial issue. They might recommend you to someone for example. Perhaps if you confide in the King of Pentacles, they'll help you immensely, they're someone you can rely on, if not financially, emotionally. Others should embody the King of Pentacles, be determined, stick to a routine. For others, someone could be hiding smth from you that would help you immensely with this issue. Listen to your intuition! Do not forget that your anxieties and fears are valid, and it is normal to be feeling like this! Your worth is not defined by your financial success!

38. Willow and 5. Cerato and Honeysuckle

Willow talks about self-responsibility: make a plan, stick to it and, most importantly, try to stop complaining. You have the strength to get through this, complaining just engrains it in your head that you have a problem making it harder to get out of that mindset, instead try working on the solution. Cerato talks about the fact that no matter how many people you ask, no matter how many books you read, your gut knows best! Trust yourself and your intuition. Whatever feels right, is! Just know that domestic happiness is very important right now, cherish whoever that may be (King of Pentacles perhaps), be it your cat or even yourself if you live alone, give and accept affection! This could be a message for a specific person but I feel called to note that as I was shuffling the oracles I started singing "Runaway" by Aurora. Perhaps the lyrics are meaningful to one of you, or it can reassure you that this pile is meant for you if this is your favorite song.

Pile 2

Charm: Cactus

You may see cacti as signs from the universe or have a very strong emotional attachment to them due to a certain memory. I feel like a lot of people are attracted to you, but they feel that you will reject or hurt them if they get too close. Or you consciously or subconsciously hurt people when they get too close. You might think you don't deserve love, which is NOT TRUE. Love isn't something that has to be deserved! But if it were, you most certainly deserve it!

Flower: Freesia

Yellow freesias symbolize joy, renewal, and friendship. It is the go-to flower to convey to someone that you trust them. You are incredibly trustworthy, someone to whom your loved ones come for advice. You are a great listener, are very delicate and tactful in your interactions with others.

Significator: IX. The Hermit

You are doing a lot of self-reflection right now, sometimes the pondering even turns into daydreams. You may also be connecting with and thinking about your spiritual/religious beliefs. You are looking to understand the light that illuminates your path. You may have started meditating, or you should start! Spiritual awakening is happening or coming soon! You could be isolating yourself at the moment as well.

Astro: Jupiter and Libra

There is a high chance that you have Libra or Sagittarius placements. You may be air dominant. You may be Jupiter/Venus dominant/ruled. This could also apply to the person you need advice on if that is the case.

The words that I kept thinking about at this point in the reading were "letting karma do its job" and "visions of the future". You may be clairvoyant! But most of you act a lot like the Justice tarot card, you like balance and fairness, and have a life philosophy based on these ideas. Your higher education might've played a big role in this.

What you need advice on:

II of Cups (reversed) and Queen of Swords

Someone may be rationalizing or overthinking a perceived imbalance in a relationship. Of course, the Queen of Swords, likely an air placement, is intelligent, they may be right in their thinking but because of the advice received, I believe their judgment is clouded by insecurity. They may feel unworthy of what they receive, seeing that you chose the cactus charm and have libra as an astro card, it is very likely that this is you but this may be your person as well, both options are possible.

Advice:

King of Cups and IV of Swords (reversed)

See, the King of Cups is upright, this person, very likely a water placement, is very emotionally mature, compassionate, and understanding. Whereas the swords person is exhausted and stagnant due to the deep contemplation happening. I feel they may also be insecure, causing the overthinking. If this is you, trust me, you deserve the King of Cups! If this is your person, make them realize that they deserve you! They need a lot of reassurance.

1. Agrimony and 7. Chestnut Bud and Morning Glory

Love, whether romantic or platonic, requires hard work, determination, and affection. Agrimony talks about a person that needs balance, both inside and outside. You may find it by showing more of yourself, especially by starting with your loved ones. Because you might not be used to it, start little by little, and observe how accepting those you love can be. Chestnut Bud talks about focus and learning from experience. For me, it's another confirmation that someone is overthinking, see the girl looking very melancholic, whereas their counterpart is goofing around. Don't take life too seriously! Have fun with your loved one!

Pile 3

Charm: Leaf

You might see certain trees or leaves as signs from the universe. When I picked up this charm I immediately thought "Leave!" So if you were thinking about a voyage, there's your sign, just be mindful of covid regulations, please. The idea of falling also popped up, so you might be falling for someone rn or feeling like you're in a perpetual fall emotionally.

Flower: Orchid

I would just like to point out that, although this orchid dried white, it was actually a baby purple orchid when alive. I will therefore explain both colors: purple orchids represent royalty, admiration, and respect, whereas white ones symbolize purity and innocence. But they are, no matter what color, always a symbol of luxury, delicate beauty, and virility.

Significator: 0. The Fool

You may be starting smth new with confidence, smth you haven't done before, making you a bit inexperienced, but still willing to take the leap of faith. OR you may be acting foolishly by looking back or the opposite way of the thing you'd do with confidence. Let me explain, as you can see the Astro cards are both looking in one direction, with determination, and confidence. Whereas The Fool is looking the opposite way. Your significator may be saying that you're being foolish to look the other way, wondering what-ifs.

Astro: Sagittarius and Mars

There is a high chance that you have Sagittarius, Aries, or Scorpio placements. You may be fire dominant. You may be Jupiter/Mars dominant/ruled. This could also apply to the person you need advice on if that is the case.

You have a clear goal that you can easily reach through your actions. Look at Mars' demeanor, he knows Sagittarius is hitting the target. Do not doubt yourself, there's nothing to worry about. Stay focused!

What you need advice on:

XI. Justice (reversed) and Queen of Cups

Clearly, there is a decision to be made here, and you really want to listen to your heart. And you're questioning whether you should? I just want to reassure you, the Queen of Cups is highly in tune with their intuition and their emotions, you should trust yourself.

Advice:

X of Swords (reversed) and II of Pentacles

You are clearly in pain, whether or not it is talking about this decision that is eating you up. Healing and recovery are important right now! It's time to stop resisting an inevitable end, and start recovering. Look, the reversal allows for the swords to just fall out of your back, just look inwards! Don't forget to balance work with fun, you deserve to relax! Another way to see this is that you are restricting yourself by seeing this as a choice, why not do both? Although, if we are talking about people here, there better be a mutual agreement on polygamy! I will not invite you to cheat! If we are talking about activities, you are capable of doing both if it's too hard to choose, you just need to figure out how to balance them. A specific message is that some of you want to go back to doing smth you've dreamt of doing as a child, if that is the case, pls do it, at least as a hobby!

13. Gorse and 32. Vine and Trumpet Gentian

There is a need to heal some inner wounds. I immediately thought of inner child work when I saw the Trumpet Gentian in combination with the Vine. Vine talks about acts of service and leadership skills, try parenting yourself/your inner child, give yourself the love that you may have lacked as a kid. You are worthy of it! Gorse is all about perspective and imagination. Do a brainstorming of possible outcomes depending on the decision you take, you can do this alone, but the input of loved ones that can be honest with you would do wonders. Don't forget your future can go in many different ways, and whichever decision you take is the right one!

Pile 4

Charm: Angel

You may see angels or angel numbers as signs from the universe. You are a person that is divinely guided and divinely protected. It seems to me like you have a very strong intuition or are very aware of your divine gifts.

Flower: Rose

Of course, roses are always symbolic of love. Therefore I believe it is more note-worthy here to talk about the size. This is a tiny rose. Just like the carnation bud, it did not have time to grow and is now immortalized in its youth stage. You may be inexperienced in love, or hold naive beliefs about it. You might be experiencing youthful romance right now.

Significator: XV. The Devil

What I find interesting here is that you got the angel charm with the devil significator. This is very conflicting energy. The sentence that I kept thinking throughout the reading is "wolf in sheep clothing" or "sheep in wolf's clothing", I kept mixing up the words, just very contradictory energy. The way you present yourself to the world is very different from how you truly are. You might also be a person prone to obsessing over people, things, interests, etc. I also would like to note here that this pile was the hardest to get the cards, the amount of shuffling I did here until the cards flew made me sweat hahaha. It's also a very confusing reading. Therefore, I believe you carry a lot of confusion yourself, although your intuition is incredibly powerful, you might suffer from being very paranoid, and sometimes being unable to differentiate your intuition from your delusions. I also think you're very secretive, you do not want people to know or understand you.

Astro: Neptune and Moon

There is a high chance that you have Pisces or Cancer placements. You may be water dominant. You may be Neptune/Moon dominant/ruled. You could have a Neptune/Moon aspect. This could also apply to the person you need advice on if that is the case.

"This is a time of great psychic sensitivity for you. Trust your intuition and follow its guidance." You should try to differentiate emotions from intuition, I know it's hard, but they are different things, and it's very important to tell them apart! Your dreams may hold messages, try having a dream journal and interpreting them if you don't do that already.

What you need advice on:

IX of Wands (reversed) and V of Swords (reversed)

As you can see ALL of the tarot cards I've received in this reading are reversed, implying inner conflicts that require inner change/work. You might've said/done smth you now regret, and you hate yourself for it, you may also be incredibly paranoid that others will find out. You want the paranoia to end. You want to make amends, to reconciliate/atone, but are unsure on whether you should do it. Perhaps you don't feel emotionally prepared to reopen that wound.

Advice:

V. The Hierophant (reversed) and VII of Wands (reversed)

What I noticed here is that The Hierophant mirrors The Devil, not as perfectly as The Lovers, but it is incredibly similar. Once again that energy of opposition, contradiction, and confusion appears, "the wolf in sheep's clothing". For some, my fixation on this phrase could be a warning. For others an invitation to look in the mirror... Try looking at the situation from the other person's point of view! I'm not saying you are a "wolf in sheep's clothing", but that might be how you're being perceived. You are exhausted, remorse is eating up all of your energy. The Hierophant is saying that you should stay true to your personal beliefs, so if you believe apologizing is necessary to move on, do it!

This could be unrelated and for a specific person, but don't be afraid of challenging the status quo! If it hurts none, do as you will, embody your true self! I just want to remind you that going against your loved one's idea of "normalcy" is not hurting them, it's loving yourself. But remember that you also don't owe anyone a "coming out", you are valid whether or not you tell people! Do whatever your heart tells you and please be safe!

!!! : Of course, this doesn't count if what's challenging the status quo doesn't respect others' identity/ sexuality/ ethnicity/ religion/ etc. If challenging the status quo comes from a place of hate please block me. Nobody is using this reading as a sign to do some fucked up shit.

3. Beech and 2. Aspen and Lily

When I saw Beech I immediately thought "talk to someone, or you could spiral." Beech talks about self-acceptance and self-compassion. You must first accept yourself as you are, an imperfect human being, like all humans, before starting to work on embodying your highest self. Stay open-minded! Aspen, on the other hand, invites you to connect with others, not only for advice or consoling but for quality time! I have a feeling that you have very high morals, but having them isn't enough, you must act accordingly!

Thank you for reading! Love you all.♡

You can buy me a coffee if you feel called to do so! This is never necessary, but always appreciated! ♡

[crystal-moon-101]

Since I saw people talking about Ben's little big chill kids, I thought I'd finally do some headshots of my ones, who are also a part of my Ben 10 Next Gen. For me, I've always imagined that for young necrofriggians, they all start out looking the same (Beyond some size difference), but as they grow older, they'll start to develop their own patterns, small body traits and shades of colour, as showcased here. I'll share the little info on each sibling, and the basics of who they are as a person. When Ben first found them again, saving them from poachers and going full mum mode, they had been developing these different psychical traits, but not enough to identify each properly on their own, so while giving them names, Gwen used bandana pieces to colour code them, and each kid still wears theirs to this day, slightly modified. So here they are now, as full grown young adults. You can follow from left to right each row, or just the colours next to their names. -North (Black)- The largest and physically strongest of the kids, North acts as the leading member when Ben isn't around, doing their best to watch out for their siblings and be a middle ground to them. It's been this way since they were born, looking out for them and doing whatever they can to protect the others. This has resulted in North collecting quite a few scars and wing tears, though they wear them with pride, wanting to display how strong they are to others. They often looks up to Ben when it comes to being a hero, in how their mumdad protects others and the galaxy, and wants to be a fighter like him one day, often asking to train with their mumdad whenever he's around. Ben has suggested Plumber training for North, but they're still thinking about that. -Tundra (Red)- Tundra is a very curious one, and is known to wander off when things catch their interest. They prefer using experience to learn from, thus making them quick on their feet when something happens, and good at thinking logical. When the siblings are struggling with something, or come across some kind of problem, it's often Tundra who provides the quickest answers that should go well for them. That being said, due to their wandering, they gave gotten into trouble a few times and need to be saved by their siblings or Ben, as despite how smart they are, they can be a bit of a ditz when something catches their interest. -Grey (Silver)- Having a connection to the earth bellow, Grey often spends their time searching caves, and any hidden areas they can find. They especially love to research and find minerals of any kind, ranging from metals to gems, sometimes even studying their metal lunch for the day before eating it. Because of this, they can be carelessly dirty, and aren't the cleanest of people, but does pick up after themself when reminded. Grey is also pretty close with their sibling Storm, and surprising Gwen and Ben when first hearing the two call each other "Dweeb" and "Doofas", when first meeting them again. -Storm (Brown)- As someone who likes to spend a lot of time flying and high in the clouds, Storm is fascinated by the weather and how it behaves, and feeling the cold fresh air and challenging themself with flight training. This has provided them to have the most agility in the air, and knows the best ways to build up speeds, while also not draining themself. Whenever they aren't flying around, they're doing research on the weather, very keen to be a meteorologist one day. Whenever Ben visits, they will often ask him about the weather on other planets, and any adventures he's had in the sky. Storm is also pretty close with their sibling Grey, and surprising Gwen and Ben when first hearing the two call each other "Dweeb" and "Doofas", when first meeting them again. -Crystal (Blue)- Graceful on their feet, Crystal is a charming and gentle person, with a keenness for the art of dancing, especially when hovering in the air. This was something sparked in them when seeing how the patches in their wings, which are see through, glittered and reflected light through them, making Crystal often move around to see what they could get them to do, and the introduction of dancing was something they latched onto as a result. They are one of the hardest of the siblings to get angry, upset or rile up, and often goes with the flow and speaks in a slow and soft voice. Because of their kind nature and beautiful display of their wings, Crystal has attracted many others who are interested in them, many falling for them after meeting Crystal for a mere minute, though they tend to pretend not to notice, and turn down those who ask. -Orion (Orange)- Having an eye for art, Orion is a skilled painter and drawer, while also dabbling into other art forms to create things, their room filled with their works of art, and often creating gifts for others. From when they were little, Orion has always admired their auntie Gwen, and are always keen and eager to hang out with her when she visits, showing every new drawing and painting they have made while she was away. In fact their fondness for auntie Gwen is why they picked the orange bandana, as it reminded them of her hair. -Neva (Green)- Fashion focused and head strong, Neva is a keen one, who knows exactly what they like and isn't afraid to say it. They love designing things to wear, especially since fashion isn't that big on Kylmyys, and Ben brings them fabrics and items they request from earth whenever he comes by on a visit. Though, despite Neva's expensive tastes, they are most certainly aren't a snob, and more often than not create outfits and accessories for others that Neva knows they'd like, and wants to bring out the best beauty in them. Though admittedly, they can get a bit carried away if someone asks for fashion advice, or even brings up the idea of something related to it. Neva also a bit of a business mind too, having gotten some clients recently on their homeworld after seeing what Neva could make. -Raine (Aqua)- A very sweet young one, Raine has a keen eye for collecting things, particularly shiny or unknown stuff. From gemstones to simple earth utensil, if something interests them, Raine is known to take it with them, sometimes snatching without thinking. They don't mean any harm, and just sometimes think before acting, and will give something back if they've realized what they've done, but if it's clear they can keep it, then they aren't one to share, though do like to show off what they have with joy. They are also very well organized, knowing where everything they own is, and even when their siblings misplace something, having a photography memory and mental list of things. They may own a lot of stuff, but that doesn't mean they want to live in a pigsty. -Vale (Yellow)- Being one of the quiet ones, Vale likes to keep a lot to themself, and don't speak very often, only when they need to. They spend a lot of time outside, observing nature as it passes by them, using a little diary to note down what they see, hear, feel, smell and even taste. They like to appreciate silence and the world around them, and the beauty of nature, and collect little things to store away in their diary as memory. Whenever they visit earth, they love to visit the forests in the spring and summer, seeing the range of colours blooming from flowers, and has many flower prints because of this. -Lux (Beige)- Quite the basic of people, Lux likes to live life in a simple way, and tends to try and stare clear of any chaos, which is quite hard when you have 13 wild siblings. Because of them, they can come across as annoyed and frustrated at times, and can be blunt and honest, but they do love their siblings, and is often the one that says what's needed to be said. Lux also have massive wings compared to their body, a ratio none of the others have, and use to trip over their feet a lot growing up. Now, their massive wings are a great way to hide away when they're not in the mood to talk to read a book, or to hug a family member when seeing them down. -Micha (Pink)- Bubbly and sneaky, Micha has been dubbed the "Pink Ninja" for a reason, someone almost always able to hide away and sneak up on others. They love to jump scare people, and has found more and more crafty ways to get around without being noticed, even without their ability to go invisible. They love to pull jokes and get a laugh out of people, and Micha is known to have a snort with their own laughter. It's always their mission to catch Ben off guard when he visits, as each time it gets trickier due to him knowing it's coming, and his training and skills build up over the years, but Micha always finds a way in the end. -Zodiac (Gold)- Patient and often neutral toned, Zodiac is often seen to be pretty wise. From a young age, they've always loved stories from history, especially those about myths and legends they hear from around the galaxy, and spend a lot of their time reading and researching anything they hear about, always keen to hear a new story they may have never heard about before. It always fascinates them how much Ben has seen and done, and the stories he tells, Zodiac is practically fond of those about Alien X and Celestialsapians, and wants to meet one one day. -Alaska (White)- High on energy 99% of the time, Alaska is always zooming around and never has time to stop. They rarely sit still for long, and it takes a lot to drain them of their endless energy, always moving in a blink of an eye. Because of this, Alaska is the fastest of the crew, which has come in handy often. But they can be easily bored, and a little frustrating to deal with when they don't pay attention, but they do like to spend that energy by jumping around each sibling to spend the day with, and wants to engage in all of their activities to support them. -Arlo (Purple- The smallest of them, Arlo was born the runt of the group, but thanks to their siblings, especially North, they managed to survive childhood when most other necrofriggian runts would have died. This makes Arlo the baby of the group, and the one they all want to protect, even if it can be a little baring at much, wanting to prove they can be strong on their own. And Arlo somewhat got their wish, when reaching a certain age and Ben learning that one of his children had the spark, thus meaning Arlo is an Anodite, and is able to use magic, though they're far from being perfect at it, and their small body sometimes struggles to keep up. But each day Arlo practices, wanting to feel more than just the tiny one, but they are generally kind and great with emotions, being very supportive and just trying their hardest.

[popurikat]

Trying to make sense of parts of Future (Mystery Skulls)

Since my last analysis went so well I thought I’d make this post as well, especially because Future really did confuse me and I know others might be lost as well; so lets discuss this together! It will be lengthy as I am basically spewing my thoughts out right on the videos immediate release date (there will be a read more option after my first thought to avoid long positng). Well first things first, I wanna address that I've been curious about what kind of spirit Arthur's arm could be (since I am not too well acquainted with any canon on its background part at least) and I think I have concluded that the closest thing to it could be is a Tenome; which is a Yochai that possesses a man's body and moves the eyes to the palms. "found lurking in cemeteries, hands outstretched, as if he has only recently lost his vision and is searching for something. Get close enough, and you’ll find out in quick succession that a) he’s not blind, but looking with eyes embedded in his hands, and b) what he’s looking for is a snack." (fyi, most of my mythos information is coming from Wiki just as a heads up)

And sure enough he found a great source for his hunger. Something he has been EYEING since the start. Which now leads me to my next points on the video...

At first watch I was convinced that each strand found on Mystery’s heart represented a singular soul bond, I thought that blue was for Vivi, Green was for the hand, pink for Lewis, purple for Shiro, Yellow for Lance, Orange for Arthur, and black and white were unknown. Which, didn’t settle right for me. SO I went in and re-watched the clip a couple more times and saw this:

Vivi’s (blue created after she got hurt) and Shiro’s (white created after she died) strands were connected to the strands located next to them. A start and an end. Mystery’s promise to Vivi to stay at her side for generations as he was spared upon prior defeat of Mushi. And then of course we have the promise of power and sustenance for Shrio as they held a symbiotic relationship for most of their lives that was only severed due to an interference. These double strands of fate are especially clearer in the scene with Shiro in Future. As the black strand gets clearer the more she gets injured or emotionally hurt, it eventually leads to the leak of the white strand on her death. Meaning; Black/white=Shiro; Purple/Pink=Lewis; Blue/Green: Vivi; and Orange/Yellow: Arthur. And why am I inclined to believe Lewis and Arthur are apart of Mystery’s heart? Well that's because those two were the only ones fully streaming before Vivi’s and Shiro’s appeared. We know that Arthur lost an arm to Mystery and discovered his identity (ergo losing most of his trust in him) insinuating both strands to arise early on of his color scheme, as well as with Lewis’ death occurring under the protection of Mystery when they were grouped and having his soul go restless/ in pain. It wouldn’t make sense to add family members or side characters not included in the mainline story to this grouping unless they would play an important role in the finale, which isn’t likely since we have only one more video left as Ben stated it was going to be a 5 video series. I am also inclined to believe each person has two strands because of Kitsune lore: “ Kitsune keep their promises and strive to repay any favor. Occasionally a kitsune attaches itself to a person or household. They follow their word of honor. They become self-destructive if they break a promise, and when someone else breaks a promise, they become deadly enemies.” Plus, It would make sense as to why in this short battle Mystery sprouted his last 3 tails when it came to Vivi and Shiro and how their connections affect his power. (more on this in a bit) But, furthermore; if anyone else notices, the Band-Aids on the heart are also remotely located on the sections of Vivi’s and Shiro’s strands specifically because for both, Mystery has vowed to protect them and has failed. 

Now then lets talk about a few things on Mystery’s ultimate form shall we? The final form of a Kitsune, its celestial form as shown here is called a Tenko. (yes I am aware of the Kumiho, but that is a fully evil, flesh eating, 9 tailed fox that specialize in illusions and well Mystery has never been portrayed as human). The Tenko makes even more sense when taken into consideration that Mystery’s third eye (typically a form of wisdom connected to overpowering the mortality of ones self) opens. So how was this done in such a short amount of time? “Kitsune do not accept aid from those who are not willing. they do not ask for help, and as such, most aid must come from another's initiative. Kitsune are emotional and very vengeful. Kitsune will lose their temper at the slightest provocation. Once someone has earned a kitsune's enmity, the kitsune will begin enacting revenge that can become quite extreme. On the other hand, those who have earned a kitsune's trust and loyalty will see a friendship that can last through many trials. Freedom is very important to the kitsune. They do not accept being forced into something they do not wish, and do not like being bound or trapped. Doing so weakens the kitsune.” Mystery as we know is very much controlled by his emotions, going head first into things constantly based on reaction and his inability to control his power under distress. His tails arose in the fight sequence every time he fulfilled his oath AND used 100% of his form/power. Therefore, his tails grew because he wasn’t holding back anymore, not his grievances, not his appearance, nor his hesitance in his evident distress of being bound to two entities that both required his aid.  My last note on these images comes from a tumblr user’s reverse audio clipping (https://nebulous-rain.tumblr.com/post/633555549749952512/ok-so-yknow-that-one-reversed-part-of-future). The rewind of the clip of Mystery’s transformation plays “When I’m With You”, which yes, cool a possible Easter egg to the next song! BUT what is this song about? Let me just bring up the first line of the song: “You got me hanging by a THREAD...I wish I could turn back time...I wish I could rewind life...” and before the chorus “I’m gonna make it right”. We know that this can refer to rectifying the wrongs of Lewis’ death, but more accurately to do so we need to defeat the evil inside this mutt that is pulling the strings of this whole fiasco. And this might just be the intro portion of the next mystery skulls mind you as we’ve also gotten many false starts with the previous two videos where hellbent used “every note” and future used “enemies” alongside the main song. BUT WE HAVE TWO YEARS ANYWAY, WHY BABBLE ON ABOUT THIS. LETS MOVE ON!

Hearts in this series have not been just for identifying the dead or for aesthetic purposes, they are the life force of each powerful legend. I am actually surprised to see Shiro have a heart as she started off as a creation from Mystery and therefore her lifeforce is just his blood and without it she is nothing. I am curious about her color pallet though, her heart is purple and pink. Lewis’ is gold/yellow with touches of orange. And Mystery’s is just red, but it has a mix of everyone’s essence within it to keep it tied and whole. Shiro’s could be colored this way in reference to Lewis’ aid to help find her creator; which would explain why Mystery surrounds himself by color as he required outside help and how Lewis’ heart is yellow in reference to how recently Arthur helped him remember his friends/hidden memories. One thing we have learned about hearts is that they can be broken repeatedly and can be ripped apart from the body, but they can be repaired too through resolution/hope. Lewis restored his heart in hellbent by using Vivi’s flower petals and finding hope that he will get revenge, only for his heart to be repaired again through Arthur’s touch. Shiro may have withered away, but her heart is essentially not broken, she’d need Mystery to restore it as it was flung into space (and that again relies on Mystery finding his sanity and finding it in himself to even bring her back). And as for Mystery himself, he’s gonna need the whole gang to reach out to him to extract the parasite within and restore balance. I really want to know more about the heart properties and how they give their users their powers as well Vivi is able to summon her strength through a material connection (bat) that function in its own way as the vessel a heart does since its connecting her to her ancestry.

NOW to finalize, I offer you two queries:

WHO IS ARTHURS HAND REACHING FOR!? I know it seems like Mystery, but that would be counter productive for the hand demon if he has Arthur interfering with his control. Is it still after Lewis as we’ve seen previous times where his arm acts up only in Lewis’ presence and when specifically other “magic” is at play? If so, is the goal to ward off Lewis and Vivi from defeating Mystery? Is Arthur gonna use the arm to find his own power as we’ve seen when he is able to momentarily cease control of it he kinda ruins anything electrical he touches and well, electricity is currently running rampant in there.

and lastly, I am really curious how touch sensitive hearts are, We know that even the smallest of brushes can detect memory/links to the person holding it (as seen with how Shiro managed to get soul flowers in hellbent), but the fact that Lewis was so in touch with the feeling of Arthur EVEN THOUGH ARTHUR GRABBED HIS HEART THROUGH HIS METAL HAND MIND YOU!, that he still managed to feel the disturbance instantly. So my question is, is the touch sensitivity reliant on how close someone is to someone? I would like to say yes cause when Shiro touched his heart he didn’t react instantly, he felt her rummaging his memories and was awoken, but he didn’t kick her butt by fully reforming until after she had long since stepped on his heart and then forced the memory of Mystery to arise. But yeah, its a nice little detail.

Either way, thanks for reading! Feel free to add on, comment, or even dm me about more Mystery Skulls information and theories! Love to hear them!

[erazonpo3]

WOWM

so What Once Was Mine came out and I read it.

My General Thoughts are that this book was something of a rollercoaster but in like a pop up carnival with dubious safety regulations and diseases in the DIY log flume water kind of way. I had some fun reading it but I also feel like I picked up a rash.

If you're like me and you enjoy picking a book apart for morsels of interesting concepts then you might enjoy it, if you think holy shit why the fuck is a literal real historical serial killer in this book I need to see this then you might enjoy it, if you care about engaging plots and character beats then you probably won't.

If you want to ask me anything specific go ahead, but otherwise for more in depth thoughts: spoilers ahead

Basic Summary of the Plot

Okay so here's the deal. The story has the framing device of two siblings in a cancer ward, where one tells the other a story. I'll get into that later, but that's how it starts. Our actual story starts with a pretty long prologue: We learn that the King & Queen got the Moonflower thinking it was the Sunflower, Rapunzel was born with silver hair, and then baby Rapunzel kills a maid who accidentally hurt her when brushing her hair.

Oh, by the way, Max is a human man named Justin Tregsburg. Yeah.

Anyway, the royal family puts out feelers for legit witches who can safely take care of Rapunzel because the baby is too dangerous, and Gothel shows up to take her away. Queen Arianna visits Rapunzel once (but is only allowed to watch through a peephole) and decides watching another woman raise her child is too painful and throws herself into restoring the kingdom's orphanages instead.

Now we're in the present. Rapunzel is nineteen and she wants to go and see the lanterns (a mourning tradition of the Dead princess in this story). She tries to argue with Gothel but gets shut down, and Gothel makes her kill a chicken to prove the point that she can't go outside because she's too dangerous. However we as the audience already know Gothel plans to sell Rapunzel off as a bride or a servant or a weapon to some other nobles, because she's evil.

Also by the way Gothel still has access to our Sundrop Flower and is using it to live forever that's just a thing that happens in the background.

When Gothel is gone Rapunzel watches as a man (Flynn) stores a satchel in a tree outside of her tower, and that motivates her to leave the tower for the first time. Then she goes back inside the tower with her prize of a crown, and a skink she found and named Pascal. Rapunezl and Gothel have another spat, and Rapunzel decides she will run off to see the lanterns and she will find Flynn and make him her guide.

She ends up at the Snuggly Duckling and she doesn't find Flynn but she does find Gina, a young career criminal girl looking to break the glass ceiling. Gina agrees to help her find Flynn. They find Flynn, and he agrees to help guide Rapunzel to see the floating lanterns for a split reward of the crown with Gina.

The Snuggly Duckling gets burned down by Countess Bathory (yes that Elizabeth Bathory) and the Pub Thugs are pissed about it and also they're helping Rapunzel even though she didn't sing the I've Got A Dream song don't worry about it. We learn that the nobles that wanted to buy Rapunzel are now hunting her down so she can go to auction.

Gina takes them to her adopted mother's cottage. Gina's mother is a white witch, who goes by the name of Goodwife. She doesn't get an actual name she's just The Goodwife. Anyhow, the cottage is a magic safe space (for now) and Goodwife teaches Rapunzel that her hair isn't inherently evil and may not even be all that deadly! Rapunzel learns that her hair has other powers too, like the ability to turn skink Pascal into a sentient Chameleon. Yeah.

Also Goodwife tells Rapunzel she's the dead princess but this isn't like, an immediate call to action. Not a lot happens until we get this story's version of the Mother Knows Best Reprise where Gothel finds Rapunzel again but has to flee, but this Rapunzel has a bigger support network and isn't buying it. Flynn and Gina decide the safest course of action is to bring Rapunzel to the castle, but along the way she gets kidnapped by the Countess.

Gothel is pissed because she still wants the money for Rapunzel, so she rallies the armies of all the opposing bidders. Flynn and Gina convince Max the Man to send for his troops, and he joins them in going to the enemy castle. Flynn tries to sneak in, gets caught, and meanwhile there's a bloody battle out the front between the noble armies. Max jumps into the fray, Gina turns around and rallies the Pub Thugs.

Rapunzel uses her shrinking magic (!) to disappear half the castle and escape with Eugene, and the Pub Thugs arrive and basically end the battle. The Captain is dying but it's okay! Rapunzel turns him into a horse :) Also Rapunzel sees Gothel and tells her to fuck off.

The story ends with a tearful reunion between Rapunzel and her parents, Eugene and Gina are implied to be biological siblings, and things are good but of course in direct parallel to Cass Gina leaves at the end to become an adventurer. The end.

(There are a few other smaller plot beats, but you get the idea.)

MY THOTS

So here are my thoughts™.

Framing Device

I'll just state that I didn't like that the story was told via the vehicle of an older brother telling his 16 year old sister a different version of the Tangled Movie in a cancer ward. From what I've heard it also isn't normal for the Twisted Tales series to use a framing device for the AUs either.

I sympathise with the author's personal story, of course I do. That doesn't mean I'm stirred with compassion every time the flow of the story is interrupted to remind you to be sad because this is a story being told to a girl sick with cancer. It feels more than a little tragedy-porny rather than emotionally touching, and maybe that's because I'm too burnt out on real life tragedy to waste emotional energy on fictional cancer patients but we don't need to do Fault In Our Stars discourse again.

Real World References

This story goes heavy with Real World references. And another issue with the framing device as above is that you do feel like this is a story being told by someone namedropping every historical figure they know which makes it harder to get into the story.

There's like... a lot of references to Christianity, particularly in the prologue. There's a priest that thinks Rapunzel's hair is the work of the Devil or whatever. It's a lot. The Patriarchy is a thing. And that's not even getting into the Countess. I put it very succinctly in my notes so I'll paste it here:

I wish she’d just been an OC who could exist to chew scenery because the fact that she was a literal historical serial killer is super. Off putting. Like, she could have been an obvious reference to Bathory, but it feels like Miku Binder Hamilton levels of uncomfortable to me.

I miss Lady D.

Which basically sums up my problem with trying to take the setting of Tangled and put it somewhere in the Real World and somewhere on the Timeline. Who thought this was a good idea.

Misc. Thoughts

So, I used the five highlighter colours my ipad allows to organise my thoughts and organised them accordingly: Yellow for out of place IRL references, Blue for worldbuilding/character points that aren't plot relevant but still interesting, Pink for when something I find personally amusing happens, Purple for when the story feels like it's trying to 1-up the movie in some kind of way and Green for Heterosexual Nonsense. I'll touch on those last two in the Character sections but be prepared.

Also: for a book about giving Rapunzel killer hair, her hair isn't very dangerous. I wanted to see Rapunzel kill someone, and I'm disappointed that I didn't.

Characters

I'll do a deep dive into my thoughts about the characters before wrapping it up. I'm starting with Gina because she's honestly the easiest to get through.

Gina

Gina is a new character introduced for the story. She's a young woman trying to make it as a career criminal but keeps hitting that glass ceiling. So here's the down low, for all those who want to know: Gina is basically Cass, only not really. She's implied to be Eugene's biological sister, as previously mentioned, but you can imagine she's Cass the entire way through without breaking your immersion because if you imagined Cass if she were adopted by a Goodwitch rather than the Captain and had a looser, more wilderness survivor than trainee guard upbringing then you get Gina.

I liked Gina! I think she's fun as her own character too, and her best moments are when she's interacting with her mother Goody Goodwife, and she of course picks up a natural sibling rivalry with Eugene, but I was disappointed with how little she really bonded with Rapunzel because she needed to make room for Eugene and Rapunzel's romance.

Rapunzel

Okay, here's our protagonist. There's a notable effort to make Rapunzel more active in her destiny and whatever, and sometimes it works but sometimes it doesn't. I was worried they'd try to go full butt-kicking girlboss with her but I was pleasantly surprised that Rapunzel was pretty useless in most scenes, genuinely love to see it.

With a more intimate look into Rapunzel's psyche through the medium of prose, we see Rapunzel really questioning Gothel's behaviour even before she leaves the tower, and while I appreciate that she can develop her own cynicism I feel it starts unnecessarily early. This is my purple colour; the movie needs to be "fixed" by showing the readers that this Rapunzel is quicker to distrust Gothel. She's also quicker to hatch a plan to go outside of the tower on her own, and she makes a plan to make Flynn her guide for the lanterns even though he never stumbles upon her in the tower- and even though she has a perfectly rational reason not to trust him which is that he is a stranger and a Wanted Thief.

In the moments where it does work is when Rapunzel is surrounded by her new support network: Flynn, Goodwife and Gina, who encourage her to question Gothel's sincerity, and Rapunzel comes up with her own defences for Gothel so that she can poke through them herself.

I have some other thoughts about Rapunzel's hair and her powers, like how the story provides the interesting concept that her hair gets different powers with the different phases of the moon, but a lot of the powers are uhhh stupid and also I feel like it really robs the story of the whole gripping conflict of "Yes I'm Rapunzel Yes my hair kills people what of it".

In as far as just Rapunzel herself though, she still felt pretty in character nonetheless, and maybe that's all I can ask.

Flynn Rider / Eugene Fitzherbert

My boy I am so sorry. They neutered my boy.

Long story short: Eugene in this story is the sexy lamp. He contributes nothing to the plot except to be there for Rapunzel to drool over. And of course because he won't get any character development, he starts from the very beginning as a sweet soft boi with none of the Flynn Rider characterisation from the movie because we don't have time for that, he needs to be husband material stat.

His whole character is the colour green for Heterosexual Nonsense.

So, here's the problem. In the movie, there's not a lot of time for ~friendship~ between Rapunzel and Eugene because they kind of immediately see each other as a romantic prospect. And whatever, it's a movie and there's only so much time. But this book had the opportunity to take things a bit slower and instead chooses to make Rapunzel get jealous whenever Eugene and Gina interact and for her to be constantly wishing he was holding her hand.

Say what you will about Lost Lagoon, but it tells a good romance story just by virtue of not intending to be a romance story, because the author is trying to convey a strong bond between Rapunzel and Cassandra without using "and they kiss" as a cheatcode. What Once Was Mine says "he was a boy, she was a girl, could it be any more obvious?" and leaves it at that.

Now as for how this all pertains to Eugene's character? Well, it just robs him of any flavour. In the movie there's a clear distinction between Flynn and Eugene, when we learn Eugene's real name about halfway through. We see a clear difference between the Flynn we knew- kind of an asshole, wanated to drop Rapunzel off at the Snuggly Duckling and get rid of her- and Eugene, who is sincere and chooses Rapunzel as his New Dream in opposition to his Old Dream of living alone on an island with a bunch of money.

This version of Eugene is basically Eugene all the way through, because the plot doesn't really need Eugene there but he has to be there because it's a Tangled AU so there's no Rapunzel rescuing Flynn from the guards and healing his hand scene, he just loves her immediately and that's that. They have a little spat at one point but it's cleared up later and not because they actually communicate but because they kiss.

Rapunzel only learns Eugene's real name at the very end of the story, and gives a speech about how Eugene is the real him, but it's just so flat because 'Flynn' has been sincere this whole time? Anyway he does nothing of value for the entire story except be there for Rapunzel to lust after. Eugene I'm so sorry.

Gothel

Gothel's sort of the Big Bad and is characterised as an abusive asshole, the usual. I wish there were a bit more nuance to her character but then again in this story she's not just being passively evil- taking care of Rapunzel for selfish reasons but nevertheless maintaining the status quo- she's being actively evil in trying to sell Rapunzel off.

It's notably funny that Gothel sees the Countess Bathory and is like "what the fuck".

Anyway Gothel in this story also feels very weak in part because this Rapunzel is more critical and in part because this Rapunzel has a new support network. It's for that reason the Mother Knows Best Reprise scene doesn't really work, because the original has Gothel pit Rapunzel against Eugene, whereas she can't do that here so it remains a Gothel vs Rapunzel thing.

She gets a boring death as an epilogue addendum that someone rips out the Sundrop flower, which tbh? lame. It would be a lot more fun if it were open ended but I am also preferential to Rapunzel actually using her killer hair to kill someone. Please

Captain Justin Tregsburg

It's Max. He was a human but then he got turned into a horse. what the fuck you guys

[poutyhannie]

warnings: tsundere!minho, boxer!minho, fem!reader, mentions of d*ath, bl**d, kn*ves, violence, smut, fluff, angst :), dark cold minho finds a soft spot in y/n :))))

word count: +8k

The blisters on your hands burn as you placed the cash register on the shiny white counter. Finally, your life’s goal to begin a small cafe in town was complete, but this was only the beginning. Even the ache in your feet and back from the boxes and produce you carried in last night couldn’t shake the beaming smile you greet the empty store with. Golden light streams in from the freshly washed windows, bouncing off the racks of freshly baked breads and pastries. These beams of light must be the physical representation of the heavenly aroma of baking goods and you fill your lungs with it, content and elated at the prospect of a new chapter.

Among the normal baked goods, everyday items were placed around the counter, such as umbrellas and first aid kits. It was a small tactic to make a bit more profit or a thoughtful gesture, just in case customers needed something other than coffee and a croissant.

If you didn’t close the door soon, the cold morning gusts of wind would stale and harden the goods, but this display of openness was necessary to garner new customers so you quickly hopped from behind the counter to cover the goods with glass domes which served as lids.

The people of your city had been relatively friendly, spreading the word of your grand opening. Thanks to this, streams of customers filled your lavender-themed shop before the morning and evening rush. When the sun’s golden shine began to dissipate to cold blue, the goods were dwindling on the shelves, prepared to be restocked for tomorrow.

The front of your lavender purple apron was streaked with flour, chocolate, and jam as you wiped the counters of the same substances. The giddy excitement in your bones contradicted the cheerfully ticking clock on the wall that told you it was late into the night. When did the day spin away from you so quickly? Would all the days at your shop be this enjoyable? Sighing contently, you settle on one of the comfortable white chairs, finally feeling the pinching ache in your feet. You’d have to get employees once you made enough revenue, you were bound to only get more customers from here on out. Maybe you’d hire cleaners once a month to do a deep clean? 

Thoughts prospective of your future and the future of your shop were interrupted when the door swung open—you were concerned the force would shatter the glass door itself. In stalked a darkly clad man, his back was turned to you as he quickly scanned the shelves and displays of your shop. He’d ignored the ‘closed’ sign. Still, one more customer couldn’t hurt. “Welcome,” you greeted warmly, feet aching as you walked back behind the counter. The customer gruffly rolled your word off. 

The gloves on his hands didn’t have fingers and when he placed a small first aid kit and sandwich on the counter, you could see the beds of his nails were bleeding. However, when you saw his face, you realized his wounded fingers were not priority. A blistering red patch scored his cheek under his dark eyes. There was a fresh cut on his left cheekbone that matched his bust eyebrow and lip. At the state of his lip you quickly reached over to add a tube of chapstick to his order. “Don’t need it,” he grunted but made no move to put it back. “Its on me,” you explained, ringing him up, ignoring the roll of his eyes. Though his hoodie was pulled down, the sweaty strands of black hair were still visible, slightly blocking his vision. “Take care,” you offered him, placing the bag into his hand. The empty night was louder than him as he exited your store.

A month in and you’ve managed to perfect the flower-shaped croissants, exploiting the layers of dough and butter croissants naturally proved to achieve petal-like flares. Proudly, you arrange them on a baby blue decorative plate, fixing the eyebrow raising price tag in front of it. People would have to accept that baking was another type of art and that your croissants tasted as good as they look. Many customers have become regulars, your yellow post it note stuck on the cash register denotes what they usually get, just a courtesy. New people enter your store everyday, sometimes stopping to pose for pictures in front of the arguably aesthetic display case filled with your best work. A swell of pride always elates you and you remind them to tag the cafe in their social media posts.

Its because your shop has a softer, pretty theme that you’re surprised when you find yourself writing down what the bruised man from before would always order. Though you formally close at seven, you leave the light on as you close down for him because he usually enters at nine. At the end of every week, he replenishes his first aid kit, sporting nasty red, brown, and purple wounds on his face every day. His placement of the bandaids and salves are sloppy at best and as the daughter of a doctor, you can’t help but stop him before he disappears into the inky night once again. The accusative glare he shoots at you leaves you stuttering. “What do you want?” His words and tone almost have you denying that you even called him in the first place but you wonder why he’s always beat up and why he’s so cranky. “You’re not putting on the bandages correctly.” “What would you know about it?” “My dad was a doctor—here, just let me fix it for you.” You’re released from his heavy glare as he thinks over your proposal, eyes flitting around your shop before landing back on you. “Just make it quick.”

He’s never sat in one of your shop’s white chairs and he shifts on plush cushion, you across from him, preparing the first aid kit. No sound escapes him as he rips off his existing bandaids, though just watching him makes you want to wince. The used bandages are shoved into his pockets and he slouches in front of you. The wounds this time congregate around his jaw, a nasty blue-green bruise spreading from his chin to the end of his jaw. Cuts and rug burn-like patches are scattered around his face and you can’t picture what he’d look like without a black eye.

In the name of being prepared, you keep an extensive first aid kit under your counter. You gingerly smear the bruise with the respective salve before dousing the cuts with alcohol. All the while, the damaged man in front of you says nothing, but glares at you through his shaggy bangs. Though scared to anger him him, you softly push back his hair to reveal another bruise above his left eyebrow.

The tense silence tears at you and you blurt out, “Have you not met any left handed people? They’re always on your left side.”

“More like they haven’t met me.” 

“You’re left handed?” 

“Ambidextrous but they still never see it coming,” is his gruff reply. 

Slowly, as you spread salve on his cuts you put two and two together. “You’re a fighter.” 

“Boxer.” Though his uncomfortable silence had previously left you at a loss for words, you quickly get back into your old habits, “You’re a boxer? That’s why you’re always beat up. You must not be very good if you’re always getting hurt. Are you paid to fight other people or is it based on bets? You’re really young to be boxi—” 

The coldness in his eyes as they snap up to you has your words choking in your throat. “I let my opponents have a semblance of victory before I beat them. Its based on bets so I get more profit if viewers place more bets against me.”

He rises and you follow him to the door. “I-if you…when you get injured, just come here. It’ll heal faster if I tend to it.” 

A nod is all you get but its more than the silence you’ve been struck with by him before so you’re not complaining.

He holds you on your offer, coming in every night from nine to midnight. You don’t mind lingering at your shop longer because his scuffed boots find their way into your store every night. You learn that his name is Minho and that his boxing nickname is Lee Know. The air between you has melted from cold tension to quiet casualty. Though your heart clenches in wariness every time his battered face shows up, it also pangs in empathy for him. Empathy that he refuses to accept.

The glint in his eyes that he regards you with every night informs you that he scowls upon your empathy, the pout on your lips as you concentrate to clean his wounds and the worried laced in your voice as you ask him about his upcoming matches. “I’ve been preparing for the season to start. If it goes well, I can progress past my current bracket,” he explains and though his voice has been exclusively monotone, if you strain your ears hard enough, there’s a trace of hope and anticipation there. 

“You haven’t been doing matches this entire time?” You exclaim, dumbfounded that this amount of damage has been from practices and preparation for the real thing. 

For a passing second, everything in his demeanor except his voice calls you an idiot before he softens, realizing you know nothing about his underground life. “If we had matches all year, we’d kill each other in no time. No,” he laughs humorlessly, shaking his hair out. Its grown a bit longer than his eyes but you’ve secured it back, clearing his face up with a pink fluffy headband he scoffed at. “The lower division guys have up to 40 matches but the really good ones only have two or three.” 

In the beginning of your late night first aid sessions, you’d timidly ask Minho small talk questions and he’d gruffly respond with a word or two, but never a full sentence. Now, you ask him because you’re genuinely curious about his profession. “How many do you have? Do you know who you’ll go against?” 

“Twelve. Edging on the more professional bracket but still not there yet. Opponents are rolling; I don’t know until a few days before and even then, it’s not necessarily helpful. Just need to touch up on their weaknesses.” 

“What’s your weakness?” You ask him, dabbing some burn salve on the glove burn stretching over his cheekbone. At the silence stretching across the two of you, you hope your tone came across as light and playful, not offensive. Though you were acquaintances with the boxer, you couldn’t yet bring yourself relax around his dark gaze. 

“You’ll have to figure it out.” A giggle rises in your throat, maybe a nervous habit or maybe because you found him interesting.

An exhale eases out of your lungs as your legs give out, throwing yourself on your bed. The soft blue glow of your bedside lamp washes the room in a calming light but exhaustion refuses to let you bask in it. Soon, your eyelids are drooping and back is pressing into the sheets.

Danishes. 

A harsh, ringing voice rips through your head; you bolt up, pulling your neck at the speed and abruptness. Gasping, you fling your shoes on, realizing that you left the dough proofing. If it were any other dough, you’d roll over and shrug off the loss of a batch, but this dough was made with premium French artisan flour that a kind customer had gifted you. Somehow, the panic in your throat wards off drowsiness and you speed down the empty streets. Bursting into your store, you rush to remove the dough from the bowl and knead them into small loaves.

Based on how the dough smells, you don’t believe it over proofed so the worry loosens your throat allowing you to inhale a yawn, sliding dough into the warm oven.

The chairs in your cafe are plush but nothing compared to your bed. It’s making you slowly regret coming back tonight.

A loud bang rings through the silent air and immediately fear grips your heart which is thrumming in your throat. Maybe its your drowsy state that has you flinging into panic at the noise. The rubber soles of your shoes slowly squeak over the tile as you move over to grab a knife you use to score the bread. Its size won’t scare anyone off, but its sharpness is one to be reckoned with. From your fuzzy, sleepy memory, the sound came from the small storage room so with white knuckles gripping the knife, you creep over. In your rush, had the door been carelessly left open? The storage room door is ajar but you can’t see anything inside. Relaxing the slightest bit, you nudge the door open slowly, entering on tip toe. Though dimly lit, you can see that the small room is empty and relief floods you, though not completely ridding you of the former panic—your heartbeat is still in your throat.

When you return to the main room with the counter, tables, and register, cold, blinding panic returns tenfold. There’s three dark figures in your shop, crouching next to the counter, quickly stuffing their bags with the money stashed away. In a flurry, you press your back to the storage room door, cursing yourself for leaving it in there and at the front door which you left wide open.

Your mind whirls, trembling with fear and apprehension. Where was your phone? You couldn’t possibly stop these men but would the cops come in time?

“What the fuck are you bastards?” A voice rings out. Harsh. Cold. You don’t dare turn the corner to look.

A muffled cry pierces the tense air, strained grunts, and sounds of impact following in succession. There’s a loud cracking sound and a wail that raises your goosebumps and you slink back further into the shadow, hoping that whatever is happening behind the wall will leave you alone. Breathy curses and threats are thrown before visceral, bodily squelches and groans silence them. Digging your fingernails into your palms to get your hands from shaking, you tremble in the corner, even after the sounds have been reduced to low, pained moans and a pair of footsteps. They wander around, heavy and assured before edging closer to where you’re hiding. You don’t dare breath, but you don’t think breath would come even if you asked it to.

“Y/n?” At the sound of your name, your eyes grow wide, though you’re still frozen in place. The footsteps round the corner and you’re met with scuffed black boots and ripped black jeans. Squeezing your eyes shut, your mind whirls as you remember staring at those boots, tending to wounds. His wounds.

When your eyes fly open again, he’s crouching in front of you, face significantly less wounded than you’ve seen it. The sound of your knife clattering on the tile startles you into flying into his arms. He makes uncomfortable, awkward noises above you, hands floating above your back as his butt smarts from the force you knocked him over with. “Did you beat them up?” You voice is shaking and you’re either on the verge of tears or already crying into his black hoodie, filling your mind with his deep sweaty musk, “I didn’t know what to do.” 

“Yeah, its not that big of a deal though. Just call the police,” he pushes you off of him with surprising gentleness, seeing that his hands are stained with the blood of those three men. On his feet in a flash, he drops a bag onto your lap. “Here is your money.” 

There’s no proper reason why your hand shoots out to pull him from leaving. Maybe it’s because the would be thieves are still laying in your store, maybe its because you want to keep inhaling the warm scent he exudes, maybe it’s because the thought of being without him tonight scares you. “The police won’t believe that I did this,” you whisper, hoping that that will ward off his need to leave. It’s impossible to interpret what the dark look in his eyes are—you can never seem to read his thoughts. 

Only his verbal confirmation has relief flooding your chest, “Fine.” 

After tying up the perpetrators, Minho settles half an arms distance away from you, a waft of his musk filling your nose as you think you hear the piercing screech of sirens. “Were you just gonna let them take your cash?”

You were wrong. His eyes can deliver something other than blank darkness: incredulous accusation. The disbelief and an audible scoff in his question has you curling up tighter, burning with the implications he poses. You’d let these men reap the fruits of your labor; you wouldn’t try to stop them. 

“Y-yeah,” you attempt, trying to concoct a reasonable excuse that would get his disapproving stare from burning off the side of your face. “There were three of them, so of course I’d let them go.” 

A scoff rips from his throat, clawing at the back of your neck. “This won’t do. You know,” he turns to you, one eyebrow raised, “this’ll just be the beginning. Are you gonna be prepared to defend this shop, bub?” 

You bristle at his know-it-all attitude and the patronizing nickname, “Why do you care? And why were you even here this late at night?” The pale yellow suggestions of sun peak from the inky black sky as you’re reminded that you’ve gotten no sleep. Ignoring your questions, he rises, adjusting his jeans and walking over to the policemen now at the glass door of your cafe.

Even after the robbers were detained and police left, he remains, his dark scent permeating the air around you. “Listen,” he starts, hands shoved into his pockets and the regular scowl on his face, “I was just walking back from practice and saw them in here. And you need to get protection around here.” 

“And how would you suggest that?” You throw back, fueled with remaining sass. A shrug. He turns away, walking to the door. Habit says he’ll ignore you, disappearing into the lightening city horizon, but he stops, hand resting on the glass door. You slap his hand off of it, but his hand’s grimy residue clouds a part of the door already. 

His shoulders drop in annoyance before he grunts, “I could teach you how to defend yourself.” Mouth agape and eyes wide, you repeat his words, “You’d teach me how to defend myself? Isn’t your season starting up soon?” 

His gaze drops, you think he’s taken aback at your remembering the dates of his season. “Coach doesn’t want me sparring. Get healed or some shit. Don’t get me wrong, I’m offering because it’ll be good for me to refresh on the basics and the next shop is twenty minutes away. I’ll be inconvenienced if this shop closes anytime soon.” The thought of Minho scowling down at you as a personal defense teacher scares you, but the vivid memory as you clutched the knife terrifies you. 

 “When are you free?”

**

“No, widen your feet; squat more, bub,” Minho lets out an exasperated sigh and slips behind you, hands on your hips to adjust your stance in front of the punching bag. The yellow lights overhead and the pale wash of moonlight are the only things illuminating your ‘self defense’ classes. With as much punching as you’re doing, you think it’s more of a boxing lesson than self defense.

“One.” 

Your left glove strikes the bag. 

“Two.” 

Right hand. 

Minho repeats these instructions, the two words seemingly molding together into a mash of sounds. As his cold voice continues to command you, the burning in your lungs intensifies and your thighs, arms, and stomach ache, screaming at you to stop. _Give up. _ A voice lures you, reminding you of how your knees shake and eyes sting from sweat. “I can’t,” you whimper, hands retracting as you meet Minho’s disapproving stare. It makes you avert your gaze, the burning in your cheeks from something other than physical exertion. 

“I’m heading home then.” Scoffing, Minho slings his bag over his shoulder, nodding back to you, “see you tomorrow.” 

Dejected, you fumble with the straps of the boxing gloves Minho gave you, unable to grasp them when both your hands are cocooned. The usual mocking sarcastic glint in Minho’s eyes were replaced with disappointment and his abrupt departure burns your chest. Maybe you should have pushed yourself more? Maybe he shouldn’t have.

“One, two. Don’t lean into it. One, two. Rotate your wrists. One, two. Guard your jaw, he’s gonna knock you out.

“Keep going, Y/n,” interrupts the usual ‘one, two’ and your teeth grit, pulling your elbows in and snapping your punches. Minho’s lips lift from the corner of your eye and this spurs you on, extracting energy from a place you didn’t know existed. Fueled with anger—anger at yourself for having given up last session, anger at Minho for pushing you—you pummel the punching bag, breathing harshly as the sound of slapping synthetic leather fills the musky room. 

“Okay, break.” The ground collides with your body as your legs give out under you. Your breathing must have been uneven, because there’s white patches in front of your vision. After blinking them away, you’re met with Minho’s outstretched hand offering a water bottle. His face is turned away from you, but his cheeks rise, insinuating a smile. With a breathing ‘thanks’, you practically inhale the water.

“Slow down, bub. You’re gonna puke.” 

Laying a hand over your spazzing heart, you give him the best glare you can muster, “No thanks to you, Lee Know.” He smirks at your use of his boxer nickname, sprawling on the ground next to you. 

“Y’know,” you gasp in between breaths, “I don’t think this is self defense, this is just offense.” 

Minho’s head tilts in acceptance, tongue poking out to swipe at his bottom lip. “No, what you’re doing is not boxing if that’s what you’re implying.” 

“Oh yeah?” You tease, pulling a face at Minho, “I’m in boxing gloves, attacking a poor boxing bag.” 

The veins in his forearms strain as he leans back onto his hands, “I could show you real boxing, bub. I have a match next week. I can get you in.” Your heart clenches at the thought of seeing the blood and gore you’ve seen on Minho’s face being made. He senses your uneasiness and leans forward, hand brushing over your knee almost…timidly? “You don’t have to come, but you can. I’ll text you the details,” he shrugs, “show up or don’t.”

**

Maybe you shouldn’t have worn a pastel purple skirt to a boxing match but it’s too late to turn around and change. At least you had the sense to wear safety shorts and sturdy combat boots. Yelling can be heard in the distance and while you’d usually flee from sounds like that, you find the GPS on your phone leading you right to it. 

The barbaric shouts are deafening as you stand in front of a grey building. A man, who’s arms are the size of your shoulders guards the door. “You lost, little girl?” He asks gruffly, but he doesn’t seem sarcastic. 

“I-I um,” you clear your throat, “Lee Know has a match here?” Your statement comes off more as a question and you wince at how weak your voice sounds. 

The bearded guard nods, his black shirt straining as he crosses his tree trunk forearms in front of him. “So you’re the lady he’s been babbling on ‘bout.” A blue tattoo stretches on his forearm as he opens the door, a wave of stench, heat, and yells ramming into you. Thanking the man quietly, you slip through the door. It’s an arena, like a football stadium but scaled down significantly. Burly and wiry men alike fill the seats, howling like dogs. You pull your sweater closer to you and your skirt down. The lights and sounds whirl in front of you as you try to spot Minho in the crowd. Further up, closer to the boxing ring, there’s a familiar head of black hair and broad shoulders. You hope it’s him as you squeeze past the admittedly scary crowd of men.

Tapping his shoulder, you breathe in his musky scent. It almost cancels out the stale rotting stench around you. When he turns, his eyes are dangerous and dark—you almost stumble back—but when he sees you his eyebrows shoot up. “Didn’t think you’d come,” he shouts over the chaos, “here,” he pulls your shoulders into his chest, shielding you in his arms as he begins to weave through the crowd, “my match is in a little bit so I was gonna head to the back.” 

The screams are muffled now as Minho closes the door to a small, empty room. He slouches on a chair, gesturing you to do the same. “It’s always so fucking chaotic out there. I can never focus before a match. I can never think,” he mutters, mostly to himself, so you freeze, not wishing to distract him, “My mind is always somewhere else and I can’t remember anything. It’s like nothing else but my nerves exist.” 

Only after a beat of silence, after Minho turns his wide eyes up to look at you, do you realize he was talking to you. “But you’re so good. You’ve been training all year,” you blurt out, not pausing to think about your words, taken aback at how innocent and lost his eyes look, “isn’t it like muscle memory?” 

He groans, you worry you’ve said the wrong thing, “Yeah, I know but it’s just so fucking frustrating, bub.” 

Smiling widely, you tease him with a nudge on his shoulder, “You’re gonna be great. Plus, you’ll have me cheering you on.” Awkwardly, you make punching movements, “I’ll take your opponent down if you can’t.” 

That’s the first time you hear Minho laugh. A genuine, hearty laugh. Not a scoff or a mocking tease. It’s warm and sweet and surprisingly high. His eyes crinkle, still smiling at you when he stands, “Okay sounds like a plan.”

Seeing the dark glare Minho holds his opponent with as they circle the ring, you understand why Minho sports the look so often. It takes you off guard; you feel like you haven’t seen these dark eyes in a while. A strong swallow of spit tightens your throat. You blink, his opponent strikes, mitt slapping against Minho’s blocking forearm. Gasping a breath, you freeze in apprehension as the crowd around you roars to life. The sharply muscled, bald man circling Minho does not lack in speed; the blurring blue of his mitt once again slams against Minho’s forearm. The bald man tenses, charging at Minho with a flurry of attacks. Desperation clenches your throat as you will Minho to do something. He ducks his head behind his forearms, abdomen clenching at every blow inflicted to him. Soon mutters calling Minho a ‘punching bag’ and a ‘free win’ crawl into your ears. Anger flares in your chest—you know how good Minho is at fighting. Why isn’t he doing anything? However, Minho’s wiry muscled, grey haired coach standing beside you is stoic, a stark contrast to the screaming audience, hurling saliva with every abusive word they target at Minho.

“Why isn’t he doing anything?” You whisper to yourself, too engrossed in the match to care about the raw vulnerability in your voice. The bald opponent retreats, panting as Minho continues to circle him. 

Minho’s coach growls, a smirk breaking his expressionless wall, “It’s over now.” Wide eyed, you turn back to the match, taking in the sweaty, hunched—you’d daresay weary—shoulders of the bald man, heaving with pants. A relief spreads a smile across your face. Minho had been doing something. The red boulder of Minho’s mitt slams into the side of the man’s head, jerking his neck awkwardly, hurling him into stumbling, expression blank shock. An electric wave of excitement shoots through you. Minho is merciless, unwilling to let his staggering opponent recover, pummeling him with firmly resounding attacks. You recognize some basic moves he’s taught you, only now do you realize capabilities of those punches put into action.

The red of Minho’s mitt is soon darkened with the seeping blood of his opponent and the fickle crowd now screams Minho’s name, invigorating him, causing his blows to land harder, until the bald man is thrown onto the blood spattered floor. The referee slams the ground thrice and the crowd erupts into a cacophony of cheers and groans.

A satisfied smirk cuts across Minho’s barely harmed face as he unfurls his sweaty arms in victory, bathing in the cheers of those who bet on him and the cries of those who bet against him alike. His coach turns to you, a satisfied twist to his lips, a wad of cash already in his clutched, calloused hand, “This is why he wasn’t doing anything, sweetheart,” he says, shaking the money, “Minho’s a tough kid but he’s also a smart kid.” After a pause, his coach shifts, frowning in, “You’re the first person Minho’s brought to a match. Nobody else. Take care of him,” he warns.

Minho’s panting presence behind you raises goosebumps on your neck. You turn to see his glistening bare abdomen as he towels himself off with a sweat rag. Bruises bloom on his forearm and but he ignores them, receiving the majority of the cash from his coach.

“Let’s get out of here before some ass crack takes his faulty betting out on me,” he says, resting a hot hand on the small of your back, guiding you to the back exit, ignoring jeering crowd members. The empty night greets you and he nods to a black car, gruffly explaining, “You walked here, right bub?” 

“Yes, also,” you gush, “that was pretty cool." 

He looks away, deflecting with, “Yeah, get in.” 

“Why do you do it?” You ask, strapping your seatbelt on and retrieving the makeshift first aid kit from your purse.

The car murmurs to life and Minho’s voice is surprisingly quiet and soft, “I got into a lot of fights up to high school so coach came up to me and asked me if I wanted to make it a profession,” a pause and Minho murmurs, “he took me in, taught me how to channel the joy I got from fighting. Turn it into something better. Focused.” 

“He seems really proud of you,” you observe, leaning over to rub a salve onto his shallowly cut lip. “You should put on more chapstick, Minho. Where’s the one I gave you?” 

Under flash of passing yellow streetlights, you can almost make out a dusting of pink on Minho’s cheeks. “I lost it,” he admits, tilting his head slightly to give you better access to his lip.

Sighing, you settle back onto the carseat. “I can take better care of you when we get there.” Minho’s eyes are wide, looking back from the road to you, “Where?” 

A clench of nervousness holds your gut, but you shrug, “Yours, mine, I don’t care.” 

It’s Minho’s turn to be flustered; he nods quickly.

**

Minho’s apartment is bare, only cluttered with various trophies and medals, a ground table, a tv, and a small couch. You set down his bag, you insisted you carried it and Minho opens a cabinet, retrieving the first aid kit. He settles on the couch, legs crossed tightly underneath him. For some reason, its stupidly endearing. The alcohol on his cut stings and Minho’s eyebrow furrows in pain. “Y’know, you don’t have to be tough around me, Minho.” 

His eyes are blank, “What do you mean?” 

“You barely let yourself feel pain, you’re always glaring at something, and you never open up about anything. You don’t have to be like that around me, Minho.” 

An eyebrow lifts and he tilts his head to the side slightly, “I told you about coach,” he offers. 

You nod slowly, “Yeah, that’s true. I guess, I just like seeing you smile,” you shrug, “that’s all.” 

Suddenly bashful, Minho looks down, biting his lip to repress a smile.

“That’s what I mean!” You exclaim, placing your hands on his cheeks to cradle his face, forcing him to look up at you, your heart in your throat. He groans, an endeared smile finally breaking out, “Quit being so fucking cute and maybe I could think enough to talk properly to you, bub.” 

Burning excitement fills your chest and you pose with a peace sign, “You think I’m cute?” 

An exasperated roll of his eyes is all the answer you need. “Well,” you say, patting his head, “you’re very cute too.” 

This time, his scoff is soft, “I’m a boxer.” 

You press a bandaid over his cut, “Yes, a very adorable boxer who needs to smile more.” He breaks out into laughs, filling you with bubbly warmth, gazing down at you with eyes that are anything but dark and dangerous. It’s warm and tender.  He is.  Sobering up, Minho tilts his head slightly, his eyes traveling down to your lips. 

Anticipation fills your chest and your mind whirls, not knowing what to do so you blurt out, “Oh yeah! Chapstick,” leaning over, you retrieve a tube, “Here.” Minho, however is unfazed by your awkwardness and cocks an eyebrow, suddenly confident, nodding to the chapstick, “Put it on for me.” 

Its your turn to blush, but you do still, not realizing that this isn’t clear chapstick. Its only when you pull away do you realize his lips are painted a pretty shade of pink. Clapping in joy you shove your phone camera in his face. “You’re so pretty!”  

Stuttering in surprise, his eyes bug out but he doesn’t make any move to wipe it off, “The fuck?” 

“So pretty!” You exclaim, holding his face to put more on, laughing at his shocked expression.  Minho pulls back, tumbling you with him until you’re staring down and all your laughter has been swallowed. Silently, his hand travels up to the back of your head, gently pulling you towards his freshly moisturized lips. Smiling because of nerves, you don’t need his hand to guide you.

His lips are surprisingly soft but perfectly sticky with your pink chapstick. Almost timidly, his tongue caresses your bottom lip and you whimper as he eases your lips apart. Saliva gathers at the corners of your mouth and your arm cramps from holding yourself up over him but he’s so gentle and careful with the kiss you don’t want to stop. Your arm gives out and you press against Minho, snaking your fingers into his slightly sweaty hair. Panting, Minho pulls back as he gazes up at you, his eyes wide and sparkling. “I don’t want to go too fast, Y/n,” he whispers, thumb gently caressing your cheekbone.

Brazen with unfound confidence, you pout at him, “No. Be mine now.” Minho smirks, laughing softly as his eyes crinkle up, “Okay, okay,” he reassures you, pulling you down to lay on his chest, “I’ll be yours.”

**

“Don’t you dare do that, Y/n. I’ll sue you,” Minho threatens, eyes wide but voice joking.

Giggling, you ignore him, continuing to create a new dessert of your own design called the ‘Minho Mochi’. It’s a soft peach mochi covered with waffle cone. “No, I take inspiration from you and plus,” you mention, “you said yourself that the juxtaposition of the soft sweet mochi and the shell of the waffle cone was good.” 

“Yeah,” he groans, plucking a mochi ball from the counter and popping into his mouth, “but that was before you decided to use my name for it, bub.” 

Reaching up to clean the potato starch residue on his lip you correct, “I made the mochi with you in mind first, not the other way around.” Minho mumbles half heartedly, turning away to smile but you tug his arm. He’s blushing and grinning softly; your heart clenches in adoration. 

“I can make you one for every match you have, would that make you feel better?” 

Minho laughs, bringing your potato starch and rice flour covered hand to nuzzle his cheek, “Fine, I guess this is what I get for having girlfriend that owns a purple bakery.” 

“Hey!” You deny, pulling back, “This is lavender, not just purple.” 

“Yes, yes,” he agrees quickly, tugging you into him. “I’m covered in flour,” you protest into his chest, his deep musk a relieving break from the sweet scent of mochi. You feel him press kisses to the top of your head as his arms tighten around you so you relax into him, circling his waist with your arms.

**

“You should really decorate this place, Min,” you comment, gesturing at his bare apartment. You’re comfortably draped across his shoulders from the couch as he sits on the floor. He looks back from the TV, eyes wide and a puppy-like pout graces his now well moisturized lips, “What do you mean? I have my trophies as decoration.” 

Groaning you protest, “No, those are trophies. You need proper deco here, it’s just sad.” 

A familiar, flirty smile spreads across his face and he winks at you, “You’re prettier than any other decorations I can get.” 

Though you feel your face burning, you roll your eyes at him, trying to suppress the smile bubbling in your chest. He gets up to sit next to you on the couch. Still smiling, he pats his lap, making your stomach jump in excitement. Settling down on his thighs, you play with the collar of his shirt, avoiding his stare. He ducks his head, forcing you to look at him. “Why you shy, bub?” 

“I really love you, Min.” 

His eyes are soft and you don’t expect him to say it back. You’re just content that he knows. 

“I love you too, bub.”

**

You’re at Minho’s apartment basically every day for the past year and today’s no different. The soft beating of his heart resounds in your ear while the other listens to the calming voice of the audio book you guys are working through. The plot follows a personified kitten who tries to find her place in the world that is too cruel for her. Despite the objectively morbid theme, this part of the story is hopeful—the kitten has found friends and feels at home. 

When the narrator concludes the end of the chapter, Minho reaches over to turn the recording off. You take the opportunity to crane your neck up and plant a kiss on his lips. He smiles softly, grabbing your waist so that you’re straddling his hips. One hand travels up to gently tug on your chin, deepening the kiss. His tongue is hot and lavishes against yours, a juxtaposition between his hand, methodically stroking your hair. Your fingers dance across his face, stroking his cheekbones, tracing his jawline and neck. 

Soon, your fingers are replaced by your mouth and Minho’s Adam’s apple bobs with the groan he lets out. The fire in your chest and the beginning aching in your core has you tugging at the hem of his soft black tee shirt. His breath is shaky on your cheek as you pull the shirt over his head, softly dropping it next to the bed. Sitting back on his hips, you gaze down at his bare chest, wonder and admiration filling your heart as your hands travel across his toned torso. The lightest breeze of pink blush blows across his cheeks so you lean down to reattach your open mouth to his. The whirling in your mind rids your thoughts of everything except how he feels under you. His wet lips against yours, rising of his chest against yours, his hips pressing against yours. 

So his tense voice catches you off guard, “Y/n, are you sure?” He’s pulled back and his eyebrows are furrowed softly, his pretty lips red and swollen but glossy with your spit. 

Your gaze drops, hands fumbling to play with his hair. “I want to but if you wanna still take it slow, I’m fine wit—” 

“I want you too, Y/n,” he whispers. Hungrily, he pulls off your shirt, sitting up to cradle you in his arms as he nuzzles your breasts, pressing hot kisses against your skin. Sighing contently, you unclip your bra and try not to blush at the dumb, awestruck look on Minho’s face. His rough hands come up to gently fondle them and you press kisses to his forehead and cheeks.

“You’re beautiful, Y/n,” he breathes, his hands firm against your bare waist as he gingerly turns you over so your back is pressed against the cool sheets. “We can take it slow.” Nervousness tightens your stomach and you’re sure he can feel the thrumming of your pulse as he slowly drags down your pants, maintaining eye contact. An endearing toothy smile spreads across his face and he hides it by kissing your tummy, trailing down to your pantie covered core. “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable or wanna stop, okay?”

You smile softly, “Okay, you too.” Minho nods, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, Y/n,” he murmurs, reaching to tug off your underwear. Being completely bare underneath someone would make anyone ashamed or uncomfortable and your face burns as his glossy eyes take your most vulnerable state in. His lips are parted slightly and the soft glow of the lamp casts shadows of his eyelashes onto his red cheeks. A harsh swallow has his Adam’s apple bobbing. “God, you’re dripping, Y/n” He whispers, eyes shining, “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready, Minho,” you confirm. He slides his finger into your hot, aching core, his lip caught in his teeth as he watches his digit being sucked in. Slowly, Minho pushes his finger deeper into you, gaze dancing from your face to your core.

“M-more please,” you whimper, consumed by the unfamiliar feeling of your velvety walls around something. When he adds another finger deep inside you, you gasp, a hand traveling down to clutch his free one. His thumb strokes the back of your hand as his other continues, scissoring into you as wet sounds fill his bedroom. When his fingers curl up, hot white pleasure shoots through you and Minho smiles proudly, working at that spot.

“H-holy fuck,” you moan, head rolling from shoulder to shoulder at the unfamiliar pleasure. 

“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you curse, bub,” Minho muses, releasing your hand to push himself up the bed so that your faces are close together.

“I-its because of you, Minho.” 

That triggers something in him and his eyes turn dark, but rather than scaring you, it makes the coil in the pit of your stomach tighten. When Minho removes his fingers from you, it unwinds slowly but clenches at the sight of his now solid length being pulled out of his sweats. His eyelashes flutter closed on his cheeks as he strokes himself with his fingers, still slick from your juices as he retrieves a condom from the bedstand and rolls it on, hissing at the friction. “Are you ready, Y/n?” He pants softly, eyes hooded as he stares down at you, hand still moving up and down his red glistening cock in a way that has your pussy throbbing and mouth salivating. You respond by hooking your legs around his hips, smiling as he leans down to kiss your lips softly. His tip pokes at your hot core and you sling your arms around his shoulders.

Minho’s eyes are piercing as he gazes darkly at you, searching for the slightest trace of hesitance on your part. Painstakingly slowly, he slides into you. Maybe the foreplay did help to prepare you, but the stretch has tears pooling at the corners of your eyes and he’s not even all the way in you. Shakily, Minho exhales, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to hold back from pistoning into you. His lips press into the tears forming and spilling over at your eyes and he nuzzles your cheek with his nose softly, staying still until you reassure him, “Okay, you can keep going.” 

His teeth and tongue travel over your neck as he fully enters you, but his soft hiss has you unintentionally tightening around him. “Ah, Y/n don’t,” he groans, lifting his head from looking at the place you two are connected at to to smile at you. “Can I start?” 

You nod, hooking your ankles around his hips, “Yeah, just go slow for now.” Minho starts thrusting deep into you, angling his hips and going slow enough to feel the drag of your soaking walls rub against his throbbing cock. “You feel so good,” he moans, reaching to hold your hand as his hips continue to rock against you.

“I-I feel so full,” you whisper, squeezing his hand and he smiles softly at you, eyes crinkling up. “C-can you go faster?” 

His tongue pokes out to wet his lips and he snaps his hips into yours, groaning. The lustful and loving sounds of skin slapping resounds in the room, mixing with both of your moans to create a beautiful sound you tuck away in your mind. Minho pulls out till the tip before slamming into you, sweat forming at his forehead. With his free hand, Minho reaches down to rub your clit in tempo with his powerful thrusts. Moaning loudly, you whimper, “P-please, Min I-I think I’m gonna,” your words get swallowed by another moan when Minho’s hips increase their pace, his stamina through the roof.

“Me too, Y/n,” he pants, “Cum for me.” 

The hot coil tightens and you squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed at the sensation until white, electric pleasure crashes through you and you release around Minho’s length. He moans loudly, quickly chasing his high. His face twists in pleasure as he reaches his high and your fuzzy brain is left awestruck at his beauty. Minho collapses next to you, removing the condom, chest heaving in deep pants as he stares into your eyes, smiling like an idiot.

“How was that, Y/n?” He asks, arms circling your shoulder, pulling you close. 

You giggle into his chest, fingers tracing imaginary doodles, “That was fucking crazy, Min.” 

Minho’s chest bubbles with laughter and he boops your nose, scrunching his own nose up, “That’s great cause I was kinda worried about giving you a bad experience and all.” 

Looking up and tapping your chin with a finger in mock thinking you smile, “I loved it, but I want you to call me cute names, Min.” 

“I call you bub. But you mean like princess? Babygirl?” he says, an eyebrow raised. 

You roll your eyes, “Bub is not a cute name but yes, the others are okay.” “Okay,” Minho laughs, gently rubbing his nose against yours, “You’re my princess, you’re my babygirl, and you’re always my bub.”

Minho shuffles in the sheets, turning to face you, an excited smile on his face, “Just move in with me. You’re already here more than your own place and it’s unsafe there.” Still after loving him for so long, your stomach churns with nervousness, but you laugh softly, scooting closer so that you can bury your nose into his bare chest to breathe his scent in deeply. “This apartment building is safer than mine?” His arms find their way around you and he hold you close, his chest rumbling against your face with every word, “It’s safer because I’m here.” Laughing you pull back, supporting your weight with one arm as you gaze down at him. He lifts an eyebrow, stretching his arms towards you and you can’t help but collapse into them. “Okay, I’ll move in with you.”

A shining smile breaks out across Minho’s face and he nuzzles his nose into your hair softly, gently stroking your bare back.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Hello lovely mods! I was wondering if any of you could write a scenario where MC protects Piama from a jerk insult her flowers? And maybe afterwards MC compliments her? Thank you in advance! Love a wonderful week - Aquarius

The sun shone bright over the busy streets of Attadellys. An array of brilliant colors, flawlessly meshing together, as Spring seemed to blossom everywhere. The mood in the Spring Quarter was joyous with the recent coronation - warmly welcoming in their new Spring Queen.

"You'd think some of these people had never seen royalty before." Piama scoffed, holding her hand tightly in mine, as we weaved through the crowded cobblestone streets. "Ruelle, stay close and keep your eyes out for anything suspicious."

"I know how to do my job, Princess Flower Power, thank you." The whispered voice of Ruelle said from the other side of Piama. I laughed as I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. The slight blush to Piama's face only making me laugh harder.

"O-of course." She said, clearing her throat, as she averted her eyes from mine. "I meant no offense, Ruelle!"

She whispered the last part in flustered annoyance. Shaking my head with a chuckle, I placed a small kiss to the inside of Piama's wrist. I knew she would never admit her feelings for Ruelle to me, but I saw the way that they looked at each other. The stolen glances, the blush that spilled so beautifully across her warm skin, every time that Ruelle was close - and I knew I should be jealous - worried, even - but if there was anyone in Attadellys that I would share my love for Piama with, it would be Ruelle.

"Frost, Piama.. where is this place?" I groaned, her eyes cutting me short before I could say another word.

"Has being a Queen taught you no patience at all?" She replied with a smirk. "Does her majesty wish to retire already?"

I rolled my eyes, and gave her an exasperated look - swearing that just for a moment, I could hear a small chuckle coming from the direction of Ruelle.

"You are so very humorous Piama of the Spring. It's not my fault that you put me in the most uncomfortable shoes in all of Lysend!" I replied.

"Ah well, the shoes do make the dress, do they not?" Storm blue eyes tracing me over, as she gave me a heated smirk.

It was not an easy thing, to keep your composure, when dear Piama made you her main focus. The way her eyes seemed to study and learn every inch of you - like there was something just beneath the surface, that she wasn't quite seeing. It never failed to fluster me - to disarm me - to cause me to lose all train of coherent thought. She ran her fingers through the long tangles of her hair. The length of it cascading down her back, brilliant against her warm skin.

"Have I told you how much I like it when you wear your hair down like this?" I asked, taking a strand of her soft hair, and twisting it between two fingers.

"Only about a hundred times, yes." She replied, rolling her eyes - a slight blush rising to her cheeks.

I let out a sigh of relief, making sure to be as dramatic as possible, when we finally arrived at the shop that Piama had insisted we go to.

"Oh hush, Llewellyn! It did not take us that long to get here." She exclaimed, firmly swatting me on the arm before she took off towards a particularly beautiful dress. The sheer, white fabric, almost reaching the floor in the back, while the front would just barely covers Piama's thighs. The purple and yellow flower inlay that adorned the neckline, almost identical the ones in her hair.

"Slush, Piama.. You would look absolutely stunning in that." I said.

"That is the plan, my Queen." She replied with a smirk. "I have been staring at this dress for weeks, it seems like."

As she calls over the clerk, I immediately notice a shift in energy. The tall women's dark eyes, narrowing as they traced over Piama. Her lips almost perched, as she reluctantly made her way over to the dress.

"I would like to get this fitted, if you please."

The tall women just stood there for a minute, staring at Piama.

"In this span, preferably..." Piama added, giving me a look.

"Of course, Miss." The clerk finally answered, taking the dress off of it's stand.

"You might be more inclined to try something like this." A sharp voice from behind me, thick with judgment, rings through. A long arm holding out an extremely chaste style dress in Piama's direction.

"Apologies, but were we talking to you?" Piama snapped back, as I turned to face the person who had interrupted us. A tall woman, with hair as dark as Ruelle’s cloak, and green eyes that could cut their way through a moonless night, stood next to us. Her lips almost twisted into a snarl as she spoke.

"Obviously, you did not, and I am thankful for that, truly." She scoffed.

"Is there something that we can maybe help you with, then?" I asked the seemingly unpleasant woman.

"Yeah, like a stabbing." I heard Ruelle's sarcastic tone muttered under her breath.

"Oh, I was just looking at this dress your friend was planning on buying.. and well, I think we can all agree that this one here.. " She shoved the heavy fabric of the dress in our direction. ".. would suit her, and those unsightly flowers of her, much better. Do you not agree?"

I could feel a blush of embarrassment spilling over Piama's beautiful face without even looking at it. The woman's green eyes boring into her, waiting for a reply.

"And just what is that supposed to mean!" Piama barked back, her emotions starting to run high.

"It means, dear, that you look like a lost garden, that someone forgot to tend to." The woman laughed. "At least this dress, will help with mostly everything.. except for your face, that is."

I could see the tears welling up in sweet Piama's eyes, the vibrant flowers that so perfectly accentuated her warm skin, almost wilting at the harsh words. Anger surged through me like a tidal wave of fire. I clenched my fists, moving closer to Piama, as I took a deep steadying breath.

"Just who the frost do you think you are, speaking to her like that!?" I said, seething.

"Ha.. and just what's so special about her? Hm? Or you, for that matter" She rolled her eyes - her nose sticking straight up into the air, like a physical ailment of her own ignorance.

"Well I, for one, just happen to be Queen Llewellyn of Lysend... " I paused, watching as horror and realization began to paint it's way across the unpleasant woman's face. "And this.. this is Piama of the Spring. The Queen's consort, and my new wife."

I stood a little taller, justice flowing through me like a bolt of lightning.

"Oh.. I am.. so-!" I waved my hand firmly, cutting the woman’s words short.

"I could care less for your apologies, and even less for whatever excuse you'd deem to come up with."

"Y-yes, my Queen."

"And further more.. to answer your question - What makes her so special? The way her voice cracks slightly in the morning, when she's just woken up. How vulnerable she can be, when she’s finally let you into her beautiful soul. The brilliant way her skin flushes over, when I tell her how gorgeous she is. She's incredible - perfectly imperfect, in every way - A fierce and shining light in a world, that you insist on making darker, with your own ugly words."

I could feel my body shaking with anger. Ready to rip this woman apart right where she stood. Only stopping when I felt a shadow of a hand on my arm.

"That is enough for now, my Queen. Let us worry about getting Piama out of here." Ruelle's voice whispered behind me. "If she follows us, I will be more than glad to stab her. "

I gave a small nod, unable to help myself from smiling before clearing my throat.

"Now, I suggest you take you, and your opinions, back to wherever they came from."

"Yes, my Queen." The woman gave Piama one last sneering look, before bowing, and hurrying back to her friends.

"That lady was nothing but a rotting corpse." Ruelle spits out, causing Piama to laugh.

"T-truly."

I took Piama's hand in mine, bringing her attention back to me.

"Hey.. don't listen to a single word that closed minded slush-hole said about you. You are beautiful, Piama." I said, rubbing the back of hand across the supple part of her cheek. Her storm blue eyes slightly averting from mine, as she blushed.

"Th-thank you for saying so, Llewellyn... and thank you for sticking up for me. Ruelle and Lyris are the only one's who have ever done that before."

I placed a small kiss to the inside of her palm, before bringing her in for a hug. My arms wrapping tightly around her, only letting go when I felt her breath start to steady.

"I will always stick up for you, Piama. Always." I replied, as I pulled back, a fond smile on my face. 'Now, let's go buy this dress of yours, and head back to the palace. I'm famished, and the longer we stay out here, the greater chance we have of Ruelle stabbing someone."

"And for good reason." I heard come from the other side of Piama.

"That sounds like a very good plan, my Queen." Piama replied with a laugh, looping one of her arms around my own, the other resting on the empty space next to her. Her smile outshining the bright Spring sun itself, when we exited the shop. Three seasons blended imperfectly together - bonded by nothing more than fate, love, and friendship.

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

OC-tober Day 2: Glass

OC-tober prompts put together by @oc-growth-and-development​! I have to ramble in meta instead of write, because my brain is Mush lately. (I know I’m behind but I have a lot pre-written, I just need to put it into coherent words!)

This one especially can be rambled about at length, because the most important “glass” object in my stories is one I greatly enjoy exploring: Dove’s mindscape mirror!

^ I drew it forever ago; here’s the deviantArt link if you’d like to see the big version! 

https://www.deviantart.com/ravenshiddensoul/art/Dove-s-Keepsakes-Mirror-and-Box-284227087

It’s largely modeled after a bird stretching its wings upwards, with a handle like a tail and certain details are inlaid with Azarathean gold to better channel its magics.

Now, this is where the rambling begins: The mirror’s backstory, and I’ll be exploring one of my favorite things to develop in all of my stories: Dove’s mindscape!

Dove's mirror isn't one of her most prized possessions, nor super incredibly sentimental, but it IS an object touched with her mother's magic, it has flourishes of Azarathean gold (some of the last pieces to exist), and it's useful for introspection and self-soothing, so it does have some value and importance.

Dove struggled with meditating quite a lot as a child, and there was only so much her mother could do to help. Meditation was pretty important to them as both a means of helping Dove control her powers, and as a staple of Azarathean spirituality. As she so often did, Alerina poked around and asked enough questions around the temple that she was told about Raven's mirror, and she decided to replicate it for Dove. She custom ordered a gold-lined wooden hand mirror, and then cast the spells to connect it to Dove's inner world herself. It took a few tries (it's much harder to connect something to someone else's mind than your own, after all), but she was nothing if not determined to help her daughter, and eventually figured it out.

As for its main purpose: Self-reflection! (If you'll pardon the pun.) Dove uses it to meditate, but where Raven uses hers for centering and compartmentalization, Dove uses it more as a blend of escapism and a focusing aid.

Much like Raven's, Dove's mirror acts as a portal to the depths of her mind, and this is where it gets fun!

The vortex that transports the users is usually white and gold, imbued with the same energies that give Dove her powers, at least on her mother's side. It's noticeably touched with black and red in DDD. (Dove's evil side starts taking over her mind, and thus its energies manifest through the mindscape, and Dove's portal into it, hence: black and red energies instead.) It tends to open up like a light tunnel and almost opens the mental world around the user, rather than dragging them in.

Once inside, one can't expect to navigate the same way as Beast Boy and Cyborg did in "Nevermore". Every mind is different, after all! We saw Raven's mindscape divided nearly into emotional sections with a neutral space between them, and the way through each area was preset and linear. While different parts of Dove's internal world manifest in different "areas", they're not so totally divided and separate, and there's no real "neutral" zone except at the very "center". The scenery changes, but it's more of a gradual transition, and though Dove employs thresholds to mark key areas, they're very much just visual aids.

Dove's mindscape is laid out more like a series of rooms and courtyards in a very (very, very, very) large mansion. The ground is generally of crystal, spires and columns decorate the scenery, and the thresholds are modeled after birds with their wings outspread. (While this seems like a play on Dove's namesake, it's actually based on Azarath's architecture, particularly that of George Perez's Azarath in the 1980's New Teen Titans comics.)

Dove's sky shows various stars and often casts moonlight from an uncertain source, particularly when she's introspecting. The ambient temperature varies amongst the locations, chilly in the regions ruled by fear and sadness, uncomfortably warm near her demon's domain, and comfortable and breezy where her peace and contentment reside.

One could easily get lost in her mindscape if they don't know where they're going. The place can shift and change on a whim.

Where Dove spends her time building that peace and contentment, it's very closely modeled after her mother's memories of Azarath (which is where she learned how to find peace, after all): there's marble and gold everywhere, and the stars twinkle with dozens of colors in the sky.

Where Dove retreats when there are feelings of timidity, her excruciating shyness, her grief and doubt, the world becomes shrouded in thick fog. Broken buildings and pale light litter the grounds.

Where she built her love for reading, for history, for creativity and study and learning, it's arranged as rooms with dark marbled tile and a carpeted path, the floor for dozens of feet on either side littered with piles of books.

Dove's inner happy place is an open field on gently rolling hills, where thoughts take the form of birds and somehow the sky holds both the stars and suns. One might find trees, flowers, abstract forms of cottages, and forts loaded with mugs and cozy cushions. If you wander far enough you'll find very tall stone walls surrounding it, because Dove's mind is such that her happiness is one of the few things she really truly believes she needs to protect from the rest of herself.

And then there are the aspects of herself that she shoves the deepest down, secreted far away from the surface: the anger, the hunger for power, the mean streak. (Yes, believe it or not, Dove does have a mean streak! You just have to work especially hard to bring it out. Or trigger her in just the right ways around sadism, violence, war, or death. It's very much Not Recommended; bringing too much of that mean streak out could mean Dove loses control of her powers, or worse: her demonic aspects.)

Those secret forces aren't so much located in one particular space of her mind as they're hidden in every dark corner, coursing through the underside of all the ground, a tantalizing power running through every part of her, only ever set free enough to use the dangerous powers to her own ends.

Her places for Fear and Curiosity in particular will be explored in the upcoming Missing: Raven rewrite. (As they're the strongest things Dove is feeling in that story, that's going to be what Beast Boy and Cyborg encounter.) I also explored the way these things manifest in DDD, and in that same story Dove will focus on rebuilding Peace in the final chapter.

I can't talk about Dove's mindscape without mentioning the "emoticlones". These fun little guys are called by the fanon term given to Raven's "emotion clones", the separate parts of her that express a specific set of traits based on particular aspects of her personality. I had so much fun playing with their voices and thoughts in Dove's head during DDD, you have no freaking idea! I also copied the concept of them having Colored Cloaks from Teen Titans canon, because honestly it's a quick and easy way to identify them, and the fandom's familiar with this system through Raven.

Which colors mean what was more inspired by details from a really old, now-defunct website called Cartoon Orbit that had separate "online trading cards" for each of Raven's emoticlones! On that site, Raven's were labeled as such, and this is what I based Dove's system on, loosely: - Pink: "Raven Happy" - Red: "Raven Rage" - Orange: "Raven Rude" - Yellow: "Raven Smart" - Green: "Raven Brave" - Brown: "Raven Fear" (I'm pretty sure there was a purple one, but I don't recall what it was called. "Love" maybe? That might be from fanon; this site was running like 15 years ago, and I was like 10 years old, so I hardly thought to pay Super Special Attention to it...)

But I digress. The point is, I adapted that system for the key aspects of Dove's unique personality, and came to understand them as follows:

- Pink: Joy, relief, coziness - Red: Cruelty, impulsivity, anger - Orange: Apathy, indifference, disregard - Yellow: Curiosity, study, intrigue - Green: Courage, determination, activity - Blue: Contentedness, pacifism, spirituality - Purple: Compassion, friendship, romanticism - Gray: Sadness, grief, longing. - Brown: Fear, fear, fear!

But for Dove's mind in particular, it's not only HER experiences and personality that form the world! She's a telepath, and though she holds others' privacy in very, very high regard and tries never to read someone's mind without their permission, her sense of receptive telepathy is ever-present. Echoes, lights, shadows, reflections of others' memories and thoughts might affect the very edges of her mind. It's a constant sense, but it only ever causes very ephemeral changes unless something deeply affects her.

Her mindscape also grows and changes as Dove grows and changes, experiences life, learns to cope, and changes how she handles her own emotions.

Most notably, the internal struggle in DDD tore her mind apart. Initially it was due to a breakdown of certainty and confidence, hastened by guilt and grief, but it soon became a deliberate tactic to wage war on the parts of Dove's mind that were trying to resist the evil; eventually her inner demon began intentionally breaking/corrupting everything it could touch.

By chapter 20, that evil is the only strong and stable thing in Dove's mind. Raven's attack to remove the evil in her took away that stability, and strength, and thus took away what was essentially the last support holding Dove's mind together. As it says in the story: "everything collapsed". Dove's mindscape was utterly destroyed, and only the most basic aspects of her remained.

For awhile, that left Dove unable to remember things clearly, or feel emotions without great pain. Rebuilding it to the point where she was able to talk and feel Mostly Normally again took months of meditation.

When Dove is kidnapped and Leyla has distressing dreams about her mother, she, Srentha, and Raven use the mirror to check on Dove by accessing her mindscape. With her powers stripped away, surrounded by people who mock her, and certain Fauni rituals sickening Dove to her soul, naturally her mind is very different: shadowy forms flitted at the edges of vision, the ground wavered, her discomfort was thick in the air and the constant fear made everything so, so cold. "Shadows" of others' thoughts flashed in and out of existence, and Dove's desperation manifests as fleeting voices on the wind. It's uncomfortable to be in her mind while she's so distressed.

It's also worth mentioning that her mindscape changes again, essentially "growing" the part of her that belongs to Love when she finally lets herself love Srentha, and it expands again when Leyla's born and Dove once more finds depths of love she didn't know she could carry.

[the-silentium]

Murphy day Pt. 2

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 3161 words

Warnings: Curses.

A/N:  Yes, I put some ARK:Survival evolved creatures in this, so I do not own their concept. They are just so cute! Also I’m not as good at worldbuilding as @shadow-hyder .

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

"So you guys are Commandos?" You asked as Hunter moved aside the colorful plant blocking your way, his steps following yours closely. 

For the last 10 minutes, you've managed to make good progress in your quest to reach the clones' ship. So deep into the jungle, the prank traps were nonexistent, making it easier for the group to venture without a hitch although it also meant that you were out of the village's defence system. 

Wrecker had been chattering with you for the most part, explaining that they weren't regular clones when you pointed out that referring to them as 'clones' was basically going against the definition of the word as they all looked completely different from one another. 

Unbeknownst to you, a certain bad batcher started to think that you may not be as annoying as he initially thought, your comment about the fact that their mutations made them the best version of their kind was running through his mind. 

The jungle is in constant evolution! Only the bests survive and to do that, they need to mutate! It's the same with you guys. Your mutations make you even more adapted to survive and do your job. That's impressive.

"We are!" You could tell Wrecker was immensely proud of being an elite special team, his enthusiasm made his voice even louder. 

You'd hoped that Wrecker's voice mixed with Tech's repulsive odor would keep the nasty fangs away. Unfortunately, bad luck decided to show its face again.

A branch snapped behind you catching your attention, prompting you to stop dead in your tracks and turn around at the same moment Hunter did. He didn't even have to lift his hand, his troop immediately turned like one man while lifting their blasters towards the moving and cracking flora, their feet firmly planted on the ground, ready to engage whatever there was lurking around. 

The animal was clearly making its way into your direction, its form moved the plants around to form a clear path towards your group. 

The utter silence was nerve wracking. The birds had stopped chirping a while back, when Wrecker had exploded in laughter at one of your joke, the jerboas were definitely keeping themselves at bay along with every non-lethal creature around. 

Crouching very slowly, you reached for your knife, the warm wood connecting with your fingertips relaxed your stress just a little. 

A sigh of relief left your lips when a familiar bleating sound reached your ears. Releasing your knife, you pushed past the rest of the group to search the tall grass for the small herbivore. 

"It's fine." You breathed, your eyes falling on the excited baby, its cute face almost making you aww.  "'s just a Shinehorn." You crouched to carefully take the small light-brown goat in your arms, its tail wagging quickly in excitement. 

The troopers dropped their weapons, all their helmets now focussed on the wiggling animal in your arms. Slowly, you put it back down before giving him more pets under its chin. 

The Shinehorn was still very young, the top of his head reaching just below your knees and his tiny green horns flashing lowly in his excitement. You traced the two green lines marking its back with your fingers, the squeaks you received in response making you giggle. 

"What's a Shinehorn?" Tech asked, crouching next to you to be closer and scan the baby with his helmet. 

"They are small herbivorous animal. Their horns can glow in the dark! Very useful when we have to do night hunts or anything in the dark." You grabbed some berries from a bush nearby, feeding them to him. "They're also very docile." 

With a last pet between its green horns, you got up and let your place to Wrecker who clearly wanted to gush over the newfound ball of cuteness. 

Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed Crosshair, his hand still firmly wrapped around his rifle like the little goat would pound on him or something. 

“Oh! I just thought about that, I know you’re probably very experienced with your blasters seeing as you're all the cream of the clones, but could you not have them in your hands?” You lifted your hands in the air in surrender at Crosshair’s constipated expression. “Just sayin’! Been there, done that, ya know!”

"You accidently shot someone?" Hunter turned his attention from the intriguing creature to you. 

"Not me. But before the laws strictly prohibed people to go out on Murphy day, it was common occurrence." 

All you received was a grunt of aknowledgement, before Hunter called his team back and started walking again. 

To your amusement, the little Shinehorn followed your steps, happily jumping around but never getting in anyones' way. From time to time, you'd grab nearby berries from tall trees to feed him in hope that he'd take a permanent liking to you so you could maybe take him with you on your way back home. 

For the seventh time that morning, Tech tripped on his feet, muttering words in a foreign language that you were sure were curses. It was almost normal now. The small clone would fall on the ground, curse, get up and continue for the cycle to restart a couple of minutes later. You didn't think any of it, having stopped turning around in concern at the 4th time. He had his armor to protect him after all. 

Although, this time you should have turned around. You would have seen that in his fall, Tech tripped Wrecker who was now losing his balance.

A clash of armor hitting armor mixed with the very sudden movement right beside you made you yelp in surprise. Hunter grunted, out of breath and confused, under Wrecker's imposing form. 

Chuckles flew off your mouth, too quickly for you to keep them in, as the bigger clone moved off its C.O. 

"Maybe we could take a break." You proposed, hand digging into your pocket to retrieve your tap. 

"Wouldn't hurt." 

At Hunter's approval you swiftly grabbed your knife, found the nearest bigger tree and tapped it to access the sugary water within the core of the tree. As the water started to drop down the tap, you moved yourself in front of the flow and opened your mouth to drink, calming down your thirsty driven mind. 

Once you were satisfied, you moved aside to let the others access the water. 

"Help yourselves." You motioned toward the dripping tap before sitting next to Crosshair who was picking fruits in a small tree, his helmet on the jungle floor. 

Wrecker was the first to taste the water, his face enlightening the whole jungle with his delighted smile. 

"It's sweet!" He stated to your amusement. He seemed more and more like a child. 

"Yeah. All the drinkable water here is sweet. If it doesn't have a taste, you should spit it out, 'cause it means that it's full of bacterias." 

You stretched your legs to be more comfortable, your hands behind you supporting your body. You petted absentmindedly the young Shinehorn, enjoying the humid wind caressing your face. 

Everyone had their chance to drink, the last one being Crosshair who removed the tap from the tree before throwing the object back at you at your demand. 

The goat approached Crosshair's pile of fruit, clearly interested into eating them, when he was gently denied access by a hand. 

"Not for you Shiny." The sniper muttered, protecting his precious. 

Nice name.

"Pass me some, Crosshair?" Tech asked his brother from his spot before you, helmet now at his side. 

Without a word, you saw a fruit being thrown into Tech's hands. The precision of the shot was flawless and it would have impressed you to no end if your eyes hadn't caught the color of the fruit that Tech was bringing to his mouth. 

"Don't eat that!" You yelled, pushing you forward to slap the pink fruit out of the clone's hand. "Those are the bad ones." You said, ignoring his yelp of pain at your slap.

"But they smell sweet like the water in the tree." 

"Yeah because the tree wants you to eat them instead of the good stuff. It's a defence system." You picked the fruit and threw it away. 

"The ones that smell not so good," You said, picking up a grey similar fruit. "are the good ones. Taste sweet and won't make you puke your guts for hours. There ya go." You passed the fruit to Tech whose gaze was fixed onto something behind you. 

You turned, confused about Tech's worried expression. Realisation hit you like a train, Crosshair didn't have to tell you that he fucked up, his white face along with the almost completely eaten pink fruit in his hand were telling you enough. 

"Kriff. Are you feeling nauseous yet?" You genuinely asked, no sarcasm or malice in your voice. You knew what pain he'd be in, having learned your lesson the hard way, just like him. 

You'd passed a whole day puking like there was no end, bruising your abdominal muscles in the constant effort they had to muster so you could evacuate the content of your stomach, hurting from the biliary acid burning your throat, fighting against the fatigue, dehydration and starvation. 

"Yes." You heard his breathing accelerating and knew what was coming. 

A shiver ran up your spine when he quickly turned around to empty his stomach on the jungle floor. You wanted to help him but knew he'd probably take it badly, so you let his brothers do their thing while you walked a bit away, searching for a specific plant. 

At the moment, you quickly forgot that at the beginning of the trip he had told you to shut up, that he had it coming. You were too empathetic for your good. Once again. 

"I'll be back." You told Hunter before venturing away with Shiny. 

"Please be close, please be close, please-" Searching around, you moved the grass around, peaking at the flowers for yellow petals with purple edges. Shiny whined at your side, nudging you a bit to get your attention, but you chose to ignore the needy baby to continue your flower hunt. 

A bit farther away, yellow petals caught your attention, your legs moving forward to get to them in seconds. With a victory hum, you crouched to pull the base of the flower, exposing its tortuous roots. 

You got up at the same time a low growl reached your ears, freezing you on the spot. Eyes scanned your right frantically for the source of the sound, a pair of sparkling dark hues staring back at you with hunger. Your blood ran cold into your veins, the imposing Dire bear was a good feet taller than you, surely reaching Wrecker's height. 

You clutched the root into your left hand, your right hitching to grab your knife at your ankle. In a very slow movement, you lifted your foot to allow your hand to grab the wooden handle. You almost succeeded when Hunter chose this moment to come looking for you, yelling your name into the trees. 

The Dire bear got scared and ran for you in a roar and you knew you were dead. You couldn't possibly outrun it and had no way to fight it. But you had to try, right? Run, I mean. 

So you ran, the most primal part of your brain taking control and ordered your legs to move as fast as possible towards the armed clones. 

You hadn't ventured too far and Hunter had followed your trail, so your wide terrified eyes met his, the Dire bear almost on you to bite on your neck. In last resort, you put all your faith in the sergeant's quick thinking, diving to the ground, screaming at him to shoot. 

You crashed unceremoniously on your chest, missing the sound of blasters opening fire. An incredibly heavy weight fell on you, pressing your whole body into the dirt, trapping your joined hands under your abdomen. The shock emptied your lungs of air, your mouth and nose were full of furr and dirt, making you panic. 

You desperately tried to push the weight away, take a deep breath of air and scream, but you couldn't do anything. You were trapped. You'd asphyxiate and die. All this because you couldn't control your stupid curiosity. Curiosity killed the tooka. 

You felt tears form in your eyes at the thought, for you were not ready to die. There was so much you still wanted to do. 

Suddenly, the weight disappeared from your back and you were harshly pulled away and rolled onto your back. Your crying wide eyes met the sergeant's, your lungs taking in the biggest inhalations they ever let in, before a wobbly smile stretched your lips. 

"F-found t-the cu-re." You managed to get out in broken words. Your hands opened slowly, showing the brown roots hidden between your fingers. 

Hunter sighed, relieved that you were alright despite crossing path with death. You were lucky he decided to follow the Shinehorn when it started acting up.  

"Are you okay Y/N?" Wrecker's head appeared beside Hunter's, searching your body for wounds. "You're crying." 

Arms slipped under your back and knees, lifting you without a problem. Your hands immediately closed around the root, gripping them tightly like they were life itself. 

" 'm not dead so I'm good." Your head fell onto Hunter's shoulder, you found comfort into the hard uncomfortable piece of armor. You were alive to feel it. "Thank you." 

He looked at you for a couple of seconds and you tried to control the heat assaulting your cheeks by taking deep breaths in. You definitely weren't admiring his tattoo from up close. 

"Didn't do it for you. I had to save the plant." He answered, sarcasm lacing his words. 

You chuckled, closing your eyes for a second. You felt all your energy leaving your body, the adrenalin that powered you moments ago dissipated and let exhaustion consume you. 

"Is she alright?" Tech asked, as another retching sound echoed around. 

"You tell me. Scan her." 

It took a couple of seconds, but you managed to open your eyes to see Tech with his helmet on, the thin screen that was previously up was now right before his eyes. He had a tool in hand, blue rays emanating from its extremity to scan your body. 

"No broken bones or internal injury. She's fine." He lifted the screen back up to get a better view of your state. 

"Can you stand?" Hunter asked.

"Almost sure I can." 

So Hunter lowered your feet to the ground, his hand lifting near your shoulder in case you fell. Your legs were still a bit wobbly, but you stood up, trying to ground yourself at the best of your ability. 

You opened your numb fingers, giving the root to Tech who looked at it with a frown on his face. 

"Break a small piece, remove the skin and give it to Crosshair. It'll help with the nausea and muscle pain." You told him, proud that your voice didn't break. 

"A piece like this?" He broke a piece and showed it to you, not wanting to give too much. They had learned that they should ask you first before eating something. 

"Yeah. Keep the rest for later." 

Nodding, Tech took the vibroknife in Hunter's hand to peel the root, placed the rest of it in his bag, before walking to his grey-haired brother. He tripped once, but managed to stay on his feet. 

You sit on the ground to relieve your legs for a bit, at least until Crosshair was able to walk without puking every 30 seconds. You were sure he'd be as wobbly on his feet as you for a totally different reason. Definitely not ideal for a field trip in the wild jungle. 

It took a good 10 minutes for Crosshair's stomach to settle, his retching stopped, letting him to deal with a slight nausea. With your tap, Hunter managed to get water to Crosshair and yourself before everyone packed up and prepared to go again. Shiny had returned after some time, the poor baby stopped running around and stayed closer to the group. 

"We're almost there." Tech announced at some point and you were grateful. Your legs were ready to abandon you for a while now, although you pushed through to not burden anyone with your adrenalin-less exhaustion. 

"The ship is just after these trees." 

One feet before the other. You repeated to yourself. At this point, all of your concentration was on your feet, you let the environment to Hunter and his apparently enhanced senses. Right, left, right, lef- 

You bumped into Crosshair who had gained energy during the walk while you had the opposed effect. You waited for the harsh comment to come, but it never did. 

"Where's the ship Tech?" Wrecker asked, confused. 

"That's not possible! This isn't the same place! The coordinates are wrong!" He started to panic.

You dropped on your knees beside Crosshair, the open clearing without a ship was the last tol. 

"Describe it to me. " You muttered. 

"What?" The sniper asked, his glare finding your exhausted face. 

"Describe it to me. The place where you left your ship." You concentrated yourself on your breathing, noticing how you started to inhale too quickly. 

"There was a field of glowing purple flowers and a stream with a big rock on one side. There was a gigantic tree too. Way bigger than the rest." He remembered. 

You sighed, tried to get back up with your shaky hands only to be helped by the sniper who pulled you by the pit of your arm. You smiled at him in thanks.

"That's the Waytree." You pointed on your left. "20 minutes of walk in this direction." 

"But that's such a great gap between my coordinates and-" Tech stopped as soon as he met your tired eyes, reading perfectly what you were telling yourself. "It's today." 

"Exactly." You huffed, forcing your legs to start walking again. 

Hunter watched you intensely but you pushed forward, forcing your body to obey you and not fail. All it took was one word from Hunter and a movement of his head toward you. 

"Wrecker." 

Suddenly, you found yourself bridal style in his arms and were carried for the rest of the trip despite you affirming that you were fine and that you were perfectly able to walk by yourself. 

From your position, you had a perfect view of the sky, worrying you to no end.

"No pressure but I'm sure it'll soon start to ra-" A drop of water hit Wrecker's helmet right before your eyes. "Awesome." You sighed. 

[wulfies-kpop-fanfics]

All Over Again → Kim Seokjin

↳  Pairing: Jin/Reader

↳  Word count: 2,203

⁙  Summary: Seokjin has always been in love with you, even if at an early age you had been stricken with memory degradation and memory loss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t your fault. It was the way you were born, the way you had been destined to be. More than forgetful, more than scrambling around your house wondering where you had left your phone charger. It was forgetting things that just happened. It was forgetting about your friends, the things you loved and the things you wanted to do.

Your memory hadn’t always been like this. You had friends, you had a family, you had hobbies, likes and dislikes, favourite foods and favourite books, but over time things began to fall further and further from your brain. Eventually, a number of things you could remember were how to walk, eat, speak, read, and write.

One thing you always knew was that, no matter what, you seemed to make the people around you sad. You never understood why- you hardly knew anyone. People who came to visit you always had frowned when you asked their names and tears welled up in their eyes when you didn’t know the answers to any of their questions. It was so confusing. Why was everyone so… gloomy?

~

“Seokjin, I know how much you care about her, but… she doesn’t remember you,” your mother commented sadly to the boy standing outside your room with a bouquet of flowers. “She hardly even remembers us now. Her memory is too degraded.”

Seokjin, the boy who had loved you since preschool only smiled warmly in her direction. “That’s okay,” he replied. “I’d like to talk to her anyway if that’s alright.”

“Honey, be my guest, I think she would enjoy some company other than me.”

You turned your head away from your colouring book as the door handle to your room turned and clicked, the door soon opening. The light from the large window cast a bright and nearly blinding light into the nearly completely white room you were in, causing your visitor to squint as he walked in. You watched this new person enter with curiosity, enjoying the blast of colour that followed him in that took the shape of multicoloured flowers.

“Hi there,” he greeted, smiling over at you. “Mind if I sit?”

“Hi,” you say in return, shoving your book and pencil crayons off to one side. “You can sit down if you want. My name’s (Y/N).”

The boy took the padded seat next to your bed, gently placing down the flowers in your lap. “I know.”

“How?” You wonder aloud. “We’ve never met before.”

The boy smiled at you, and you saw something in his eyes that you had somehow seen before, but you couldn’t exactly place where you had. His plump lips were curved upwards in the most… how could you say… calming way, his fingers leaving the bouquet wrappings to the sheets of your bed, running a finger along the fabric. You blushed by only watching his movements.

“I’ve known you for a long time, actually. My name is Seokjin, but you used to call me Jinny. You’ve always been the only one allowed to call me that.”

“Oh.” You looked down at the flowers, smiling at them. “I like these, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I knew you would like them, they’ve always been your favourite,” he said, his fingers moving back to the flowers, taking one of the yellow petals in between his thumb and forefinger.

“What are they?”

“They’re roses, painted in all the colours you like. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple,” Jin explains, and you look back at him with a smile.

“I love every colour,” you say proudly, sitting up a bit straighter.

“I know you do.” Jin’s smile faltered slightly. Tilting your head in curiosity, you watched him look down at his wrist, gently pull back his sleeve and look at a watch. The way he delicately did such a simple thing made your heart beat a little faster.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

“Nothing, don’t worry. Say, what were you drawing?” He asked.

“I was drawing?” You wonder, looking to your left to find you book sitting next to you. “Oh.” You reach out to grab the book, flipping through to see your most recent drawing. “I guess I was drawing this.”

Your eyes widen as you look at the page. You never knew that you drew it, and the person whose face you drew looked familiar. You squinted at the page before holding it upright beside Jin’s face. You looked from him to the drawing, noticing that they looked nearly identical. An oval sculpted face, heart-shaped lips, thin, square eyes, round nose and tousled brown hair.

“Hey, (Y/N), are you okay?” Jin gently grasped the paper and flipped it over when you fully handed it over to him. However, his reaction to seeing what was on the page wasn’t what you expected. Instead of wide, stunned eyes, he just smiled, looking over your face again. “See? You’ve been drawing me. You’ve known me for a long, long time.”

“But how? I don’t remember you.” You say dejectedly. “I-I’m sorry.” For some reason, pain struck your heart. You wanted to remember him, you really did. You felt like there was something there, a feeling like you did really know him, enough to feel the twinge of nervousness and shyness in your chest, to know what it meant despite what was wrong with you. But, no matter how hard you tried, nothing came to your head, and nothing happened.

Jin placed down your book on your bed and raised his hands, noticing that tears were welling up in your eyes. “No, I didn’t mean to make you upset,” he cried. “I just want you to know.”

You sniffle. “Know what?”

“I want you to know that I love you,” he stated, leaning forward in his chair to rest his arms on your bed, placing his cheek against the sheets. “I love you so much, even if you forget about me every time I leave the room.”

Did he love you? Did he get the same feelings in his chest as you do as you’re looking at him right now? Does he find himself drawing you? Does he forget about you, too?

“Jinny,” you say, feeling a bit more at ease when you say his name that way, “I.. I, um…”

“Hmm?” He hummed, waiting patiently for the end of your sentence with a smile.

“I love you too,” you agree with very little thought involved. You know what this was, a deep-seated feeling that even you couldn’t forget. It was love. “Please…”

“What is it? Do you want some ice chips?” He sits up, ready to stand, and you only smile and shake your head, grasping his wrist for good measure.

“Please, don’t go… not ever. I don’t want to forget you.” Tears were now spilling over the rims of your eyes. You knew that if he left the room you would have to meet him all over again. You had done it so many times with your mother until her constant presence finally solidified her in your mind, but it seemed like Jin hadn’t made that kind of progress.

“You won’t forget about me,” he told you, reaching up to swipe a thumb at a stray tear. “You draw my face in your books and you remember my nickname even if I only mention it once. Once you love someone, you never really forget them. Alright?”

“Okay,” you agree, leaning into his touch, his hand now cupping your cheek gently. “Will you stay a little longer, though?”

“Of course I can.”

~ 4 hours later ~

You smiled at your newest masterpiece and placed down your charcoal pencil, holding up your sketchbook and admiring your handiwork.

“(Y/N), don’t you think it’s time you eat your dinner?” Your mother asked as she sat against the wall, returning Jin’s shrug as he could finally move from his pose. She gripped your dinner tray in her hands, it slowly growing cold from the passage of time.

“I only just finished,” you whine. “Can I eat after I put the seal on it?”

“(Y/N),” your mother called scoldingly. “Your charcoal won’t smudge if you leave it for a few minutes, now eat up.”

“You should probably listen to your mom, (Y/N),” Jin chimed as he stood up to stretch. “She can get pretty scary.”

You looked over at your mother, who was looking at Jin with a knowing smirk, but, she said nothing.

“But eating my dinner means that visiting hours are over and you have to go home, right?” You ask innocently.

“Yes, that’s right,” Jin replied cautiously.

“Then I’m never going to eat my dinner!” You declare, placing your sketchbook on the small table beside your bed, promptly crossing your arms and pouting in your mother’s direction.

“(Y/N), come on, Jin can visit tomorrow.”

“But…”

“No buts.”

“Alright, fine.” You sigh dejectedly, nodding in the direction of your mother.

Your mother stands, satisfied at your compliance. She placed the tray on your lap as you sadly watched Jin stand.

He looks down at you with his soft smile, “I’ll come back tomorrow, okay?”

“You promise?”

“Of course, I promise,” he reassures you by nodding and crossing his heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” He begins to turn around, but you grab his wrist. “What is it?”

“One more thing.” You tug on his arm gently, and his smile grows wider as he figures out what you want. Before you know it, he’s bent down in front of you and placed a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you, too, Jinny.”

~

Jin sighed as he exited the room, closing the door gently behind him. He knew as he walked down the hallway of the hospital that you’ve already forgotten about him, but he couldn’t bring himself to be depressed or sad about it.

He pulled out his phone to text his friends that he was coming home, a smile still present on his lips.

GROUP CHAT

NJ: Hey, Jin, visiting hours ended like half an hour ago. Are you coming home?

TH: Yeah, we need you to make dinner.

SJ: You guys really need to learn how to cook for yourselves. Yeah, I’m coming home.

JM: How was the hospital? Did she…?

SJ: No, sadly.

 YG: :( We’re sorry

TH: Yeah… we know how much you love her.

NJ: Maybe one day she’ll remember you

SJ: I don’t care about that anymore, I’m not sad about it

JK: Wait, why not? You’re usually so torn up about it once hours are up.

SJ: I don’t know, I just noticed that every time I go to see her, it’s like she’s never seen me, and…

YG: And what?

SJ: And it’s like she falls in love with me all over again, every day. She never gets tired of it, she never gets tired of my face and she never wants me to leave once visitation is over.

TH: Now that’s what I call true love. She’s never freaked out at you?

SJ: No, never. I tell her that she knows me and she’s always a little confused at first but I always see that light in her eyes, I can practically feel the butterflies she gets. I just know that she loves me, even if it’s new to her every time I go in.

NJ: :) that’s the spirit!

YG:  I feel like I could write a million songs right now

TH: Me too :D

HS: That’s so beautiful T_T

JK: You should just pop the question every day to see what she says ;)

JM: It’s good that she has someone like you

Seokjin smiled to himself as he locked his phone. He would visit you every day, watch you fall in love all over again until one day he would finally be so embedded in your memory that you had one less thing to forget. So that he would never have to leave you, so visiting hours were never over.

~ The Next Day ~

“Seokjin, back again, are we?” Your mother asked, a smile on her face as she nursed a cup of coffee, leaning on the wall by the door to your room. “Seems like you’re freeing up your schedule.”

“I’m trying to as much as I can, Ms (L/N),” he says cheerfully, gripping a small gift bag. “Is she awake?”

 “Yep, and pretty energetic, too.”

“Oh, good. So, I can go in?” He asked, smiling at your mother.

“Of course, go on.”

The door made a small click once again as Jin entered the room, his smile becoming a grin as you looked over at him from your sketchbook.

“Hi there,” he greeted, smiling over at you. “Mind if I sit?”

“Hi,” you say in return, shoving your book and pencil crayons off to one side with a giant smile. “You’re more than welcome to sit down. My name’s (Y/N).”

Seokjin took toward the padded seat next to your bed, gently placing down the gift bag in his lap, deciding to present it to you before he left at the end of visitation. “I know.”

“You do?”

All over again.