#i should probably lighten up that grayed layer more

[transingthoseformers]

What did you say your editing program was named again? Was it for computer or an app?

I use artflow, a free app on mobile

It allows you to pay for more features but I never do that

Okay apparently the rating dropped like .5 stars since I last looked at in the app store

But like yeah! I usually gray out the layer underneath the one I'm working on, use that to get the correct color I want, then go back on the top panel and erase until it looks more normal, then make my next change

For example here's an unfinished sg getaway edit of one oh his panels

You can see I'm trying to turn the black into white and next I'd take the other white and turn it into black, and you can see the edge of a merely hue shifted panel in the corner I'm using as a reference

It looks less "off" than just pushing the hue slider or flipping it into Negative, even if it's a bit more work

[swordmouse]

Cosplay ear fins tutorial

I made ear fins for an Eridan cosplay, and a lot of people asked how I made them. I haven’t seen anyone else doing the same method I used, so I thought I’d share.

I started out with some wire. I don’t know the exact gauge off the top of my head, but I don’t think it particularly matters as long as it’s thick enough to hold its shape but thin enough to shape with your hands/pliers. Cutting up a sturdy wire coat hanger would probably give you workable material.

Here are the bases I made. I put some paper over my ears first and sketched a loose outline to get the size I wanted, but I didn’t end up following it too closely. It was mostly a lot of trial and error. I decided on four tines for each ear fin, but you could do a different amount or longer tines if you want. I used round nose and needle nose pliers to shape the wire, but I mostly used my hands and you could probably do this project without pliers if you don’t have them. The ends are curled to avoid stabbing myself in the ear with wire. You want the ear fins to go in front of your ears, and then the wire at the ends loops around the back of your ears to hold them in place. Getting this right took a lot of trying them on and adjusting them, but I eventually got them to where they would stay on without any adhesive but didn’t squeeze my ears too badly.

Next, cut up some old pantyhose/tights to get nylon material. You don't need too much material for this, so sock-style pantyhose would be enough. I happened to have some old tights with holes in them so I just cut out some non-holey pieces. I used black tights since it was the closest I had to gray. You’ll color over these later, but try to get a base shade as close to your desired ear color as possible to make things easier later on. I wouldn’t recommend buying new tights in the exact color you want since that’s expensive and wasteful, so you’ll probably be choosing between black, beige, and maybe white, but just keep in mind that you’ll have to color over it and the coloring method isn't completely opaque. Like, don't use black tights if you want white ears.

Stretch the nylon over the wire bases. I used a roughly square piece of nylon for each ear and folded it in half, then scrunched the excess to pull it tight and used binder clips to hold the material in place. Then use a thread in the color you want the ears to be and sew along the whole open edge of the nylon, anchoring it to the wire frame as shown below. Keep the nylon stretched tight over the tines while sewing so it has those divots in between tines. Cut off excess material and sew the raw edges down.

Try the ears on again and adjust as needed.

Paint the fabric with Mod Podge (I used matte but I think other finishes would work too.) Take extra care to spread the Mod Podge around the sewn edges to really glue things in place. Wait for the Mod Podge to dry on the nylon. This creates a hard, chalkboard-like surface that you can color on, but keeps some of the transparency of the nylon. I used a combination of chalk, pastels, and eyeshadow powder to color the ears. If you’re going for ears that match your skin tone, foundation powder would probably work. I was just using whatever art supplies I had around, but any powdery pigment should do the job.

I started with white chalk all over the surface to lighten the black color into grey. Then I used white pastel to make highlight lines on the top of each tine and black pastel to make shadow lines below each tine. This added some definition and made the tines look more three dimensional. I filled the spaces between tines with some purple pastel, which I blended into the grey shade with my finger. I then put a layer of shimmery purple eyeshadow over it to give it a nice sheen.

Once you’re done coloring the ears, seal the whole thing with some hairspray and you’re ready to go! You could probably also add some earrings to them if that’s the look you’re going for.

Here’s my final result! I was able to wear a mask with them and they were relatively comfortable to wear all day. Let me know if you have any questions and if you try this tutorial, definitely send me pictures of the results!

[notanacousticsetcal]

broken pieces - calum hood

summary - an imagine based off of the song “broken pieces” by 5 seconds of summer.

warnings - angst

word count - 1.6k

a/n - this is one of my favorite things i’ve ever written omg. i feel so proud of it. i hope yall like it.

i woke up in the place we started. your clothes on the floor in that old apartment. i never thought you'd leave with out a trace.

calum stirred, slowly coming back to consciousness. he took in his surroundings. your shared bedroom in your LA apartment. he could faintly hear the buzz of traffic outside coming through a window just barely ajar. something was different. memories flooded back of last night. the argument that broke out between you. stupid stuff you spew at each other every single night about how he doesn't try anymore and how you seem bored in the relationship. how he drinks too much and should quit smoking. how you were all over that guy at the party. both of you knew the relationship was deteriorating. both of you constantly on edge, the warmth in your apartment that had been there so long ago wiped almost completely. he pinched his nose in annoyance. why had he said the things he said? he sat up sleepily, ready to face you, probably sulking and as pissed off as ever in the kitchen with a cup of coffee. he braced himself to apologize. calum blinked slowly, running his hands over his eyes and rubbing them fiercely. he couldn't believe what he was seeing. the closet was open and half empty, some scattered garments of yours laid unclaimed on the floor, left behind, forgotten, your makeup was cleared from the desk. the room looked bare. you left.

i cant shake this sinking feeling. i know you're not there and i'm barely breathing. holding onto things i cant replace.

calum sat at the kitchen island, head in his hands, the coffee ashton brought him untouched. "mate, you can get her back. this doesn't have to be the end if you don't want it to be." ashton clapped a hand onto calum's back and shook his shoulder sympathetically. "you do want her back, don't you?" calum sighed impatiently. "things haven't been good between us for a while. maybe it's for the best." ashton looked solemn and disappointed. "think about this, mate." and with that, ashton stood and headed for the door, stepping out into the quiet hallway and leaving calum to his thoughts. he wondered what she must be doing right now. she's probably staying with her sister, playing with her niece to distract herself from the heartache. calum pictured her with the little girl, giggling and smiling that beautiful smile of hers, her morning hair tousled and messy and her eyes squinty with sleep. calum felt his heart sink into his stomach. he pictured the way she looked that day at the park when he surprised her with flowers, her pink lips quirking up into a delighted smile. her cheeks flushed in the LA heat and her skin dewy in a thin layer of sweat. he could see her little yellow sundress and the way it complimented her figure. he pictured the way she sat, how she leaned into him while he told stories. how she laughed at even his lamest jokes. he felt himself getting choked up at the memory of how she looked sleeping in the morning, her hair a mess against the silky pillow and her lips the slightest bit chapped, mouth ajar. she looked peaceful. he wondered what she was dreaming about as her nose scrunched in distaste. calum's head sunk farther into his hands and his fingers gripped angrily at his hair. everything he did that day, every time his brain flipped to thinking about something - anything - else, his mind was plagued with her again. her eyes and her smile and the way she smelled like flowers and strawberries and the way her hair tickled his face and what it was like to kiss her. he couldn't even remember why he was upset the night before.

i'm looking for a way to change my mind. don't walk away. oh tell me what we're fighting for. it's turned into an all out war.

calum knew your relationship was toxic. the way you never said how you both truly felt and avoided calling each other out on your shit until you were so pissed off that it all unloaded at once in an explosion of name calling and accusations and pent up frustration and resentment. the way you both got so intoxicatingly jealous and didn't trust each other as far as you could throw one another. but calum knew what you had was so immensely passionate, so intoxicatingly fiery and overwhelmingly intense that even with the biggest of fights and quarrels, you had the most loving and intimate moments. your love for each other was so huge that you would go to any extreme to please the other person and you couldn't get enough of each other. calum knew what he had with you was a once in a life time type of love. everything logical in him told him to let you go, but his heart practically stopped beating at the thought.

our last words ringing in my head. i wish we'd take back all the things we said. i'm trying to find a way to yesterday.

calum remembered how you threw petty insults at each other that only got more hurtful as the argument escalated. he remembered the pained look in your eyes as you watched him walk to the bedroom. "i'm going to sleep." he had said. why didn't he acknowledge that you were hurting? why didn't he take a step outside himself and realize that there were healthier ways to tell you how he felt? he was immature, you were stubborn. but he could've been the bigger person. if he took that first step, he knows you would've apologized. he knows you regretted it as much as he did. calum gripped the counter tightly, exasperated and so angry at himself. why did he get so caught up in it? he would take it back in a heartbeat if he could. he just gets so riled up, you make him feel a way that no one else can. with all that passion in the form of love, there comes passion in the form of heat and confrontation. its almost like he couldn’t find a way to have one without the other.

if he had just apologized, you would be sat at the island watching him dance around cooking your breakfast. you would be laughing your laugh — the one that's so contagious that whenever you smile calum feels his lips turn up and his chest lighten. the laugh that makes a dark room feel like the surface of the sun. you would have your fuzzy sock covered feet stowed away underneath you, warm cup of tea in hand. your hair would fall around your shoulders, catching the morning light. you would look at him so fondly, his favorite look. calum wanted to take it all back. more than anything.

i'll find a way to fix these broken pieces and let go. and let go, let go, let go. fix these broken pieces and let go.

after spending the entire day in sheer agony, calum sat anxiously on the couch, desperately wishing you were tucked into his side watching the social network or se7en or train spotting. everything he used to do with you felt completely useless without you. he missed the light you were in his life. how you always seemed to be able to make him laugh and the look of concentration on your face when you read and the way you talked to duke. fed up with himself and feeling so fucking miserable, calum grabbed his coat and stormed out the door, car keys in hand. he sped his way to your sisters house, rolling through a few too many stop signs, but he couldn't be bothered. he needed to see you. he quickly threw the car in park and raced up to the door, slamming his fist against the wood like there was no tomorrow. but that's the thing, every tomorrow would feel the same — boring, bland and gray, without you. your sister opened the door, bleary eyed with annoyance written all over her face. she sighed, not surprised in the slightest. "cal, it's late." she began to close the door on him but he stopped her, a pleading look of desperation in his eyes. "please, let me see her," he begged, one arm on the wall and one on the white door. "cal, you had all day and now it's 10 o'clock and you're too fucking late." she attempted to shove the door closed with more force this time and calum was going to let her. she was right. he should've come sooner. idiot. but a small, fragile voice piped up from behind her. one calum thought he might never hear again. "no, it's alright. let him in." your sister rolled her eyes and hesitantly moved from the door frame. "don't make me regret this," she muttered. calum stayed rooted on the porch, partially in shock that you wanted to see him and partially in shock that you somehow managed to get more beautiful every time he saw you. even when he thought it was impossible. "calum, if you don't come in right now, i'm locking you the fuck outside." calum snapped out of his trance and stepped softly inside, throwing an apologetic smile your sisters way. he started walking slowly towards you but once he picked up on the heartbreak and pain in your eyes, he rushed over and pulled you into a bone crushing hug. there's that damn strawberry shampoo that he missed. he didn't want to smell anything else for the rest of his life. he felt that familiar feeling of your hands wrapping around his waist, sitting comfortably like they were made to be there. he could stay like this forever. he knew in that moment that he would do anything and everything to make sure he never had to spend another night without you. whatever broken pieces made up the two of you, he knew they fit together like an 1,000 piece puzzle. and he would spend the rest of his life gluing them back together if he had to.

[mysticsparklewings]

Behind the Screens

Oh, look, a reminder of why I don't do detailed backgrounds often! Okay, okay, this is actually an entry for projecteducate's All Mediums Contest: From Logos To Art. It sounded like a fun challenge, so I thought I'd take a stab at it. (Hopefully obviously) My primary logo choice/inspiration was the Instagram logo, largely because I had a strong visual idea for it in my mind right away. However, if you look closely there are logo inspirations hiding in there, too.  Some of them I think are more obvious, while others are more subtle. In case you'd rather try to find them on your own, I'll list them in small text so you can skip to the next paragraph and not be spoiled. Moving left to right, top to bottom: Outside the window is the Twitter bird, tweeting away; Then we have a literal FaceBook propped up against the window, and next to it a "Ko-Fi" Coffee cup; below the window we have a chair, the SnapChair, based off the SnapChat logo/ghost, which I am particularly proud of. On the right side of the art, we have a globe with some plastic bits that's inspired by the Google Chrome logo; then a PinBoard as a reference to Pinterest; and side-by-side on the table we have an Apple-apple and a Tumblr-tumbler. Fun fact: Because of that apple I now know there are in fact real apple species that have white skin, the most common among them seeming to be the "white transparent" variety. You'll notice all the logos have something to do with the internet/computers/social media, and though I did think about sneaking in a couple of other logos like Dominos or the NBC Peacock (since those logos have good visuals), I ultimately decided it was better to stick to a more cohesive theme. This is also where the title came from, as the idea is this is the reality behind the screens of a perfectly poised Instagram photo. And therein lies the further theme/message you can take away from this; Notice how the figure is holding the camera so that we can't see their face at all, like a mask. And how the other logos have crept into the rest of the scene, in a way that a lot of them you probably wouldn't notice as internet icons if it wasn't pointed out to you. Both of these are realities for a lot of people. On the internet, we put on a facade like a mask. We control the narrative of what people see of us. And our online presence and habits sneak into our lives in ways we might not notice right away. Both things happen for better or worse, and they can and do happen to anyone, regardless of who you are. To that end, I consciously tried to make the person holding the camera little androgynous, so that it could be a boy or girl, but since this is me we're talking about I'm pretty sure it leans more notably on the feminine side.  And it doesn't help that for the positioning of the hands I had to use reference photos of myself when I couldn't find quite what I was looking for online. Speaking of which; to make the art I started out with a traditional sketch of the figure and the background bits that were inspired by logos, except for the Pinboard and Kofi/coffee cup. And it's kinda funny because I wanted to base the camera design off of one of the newer instant Polaroid cameras (as that seemed the most fitting to transform into the Instagram Logo camera), and fortunately when I was taking the reference photos my phone is sized just so that I could use it as more or less a stand-in or base. This worked out even better because it meant I could just take the photos in front of a mirror instead of having to set a timer and hope I could pose correctly from a distance.   I scanned the sketches in, and then came the trickier part: That background. Especially since a lot of the concept here relies pretty heavily on it. I used a lot of reference photos I found online for this. I did have a basic, rudimentary sketch of my own that I made without any references, but I knew to get the lighting and perspective right I was going to need some actual photos to go off of, and I don't personally have a room that looks like what I had in mind for this. Based on these photos, I did end up putting the shelves over the pinboard, as opposed to putting the pinboard higher on the wall, but other than that and some slight adjusts to the perspective, my general idea for the room stayed the same. And, given my tablet situation, I gave myself a bit of break and decided not to do perfectly clean, solid linework for anything other than the human figure and the camera they're holding. The camera kinda had to have clean lines for this to work, and I thought the figure would stand out from the background better if they were done with clean lines. (And I'm pretty sure I was right about that.) For once in my life, I mostly started in the back and moved my way forward. The walls and ceilings, then the window, then the shelves and the stuff on them, then the banners over the window. And my process reminded largely the same throughout: Loosely line the object, give it a base layer of color, then go back and shade/lighten as necessary. And I was using semi-realistic colors, though I knew they were going to get largely disguised later on when I did the all-over overlay to really drive the Instagram logo inspiration home. Naturally, all the stuff on the shelves was a largely more annoying undertaking than I'd anticipated, but it wasn't quite as bad as the multitude of books I had to do for World in a Book. It's not even that drawing in a bunch of objects like that is hard, necessarily, it just takes a while to get through if you want it to look right. Anyway. Once all of that was done, I took a break to work on the figure and camera, getting the lines done and then moving on once again. Then it was the other logo bits' turn. Once I had them all lined and properly arranged/placed (as they were drawn as separate, individual items from the rest of the scene), I colored each one using the actual logo colors first, then went back to shade them, and then fiddled with some adjustments to bring the saturation down a little and make them blend a bit better with the overall tone. I would end up having to undo some of this after I added the overlay, and as otherwise with that in place some of the logo-inspired things would've either blended in too well or stood out way too much, depending on which one it was. (The camera is a bit of an exception here as instead of getting proper shading, I opted to line it only and just use my home-made gradient inside of it. Once those were taken care of, I back-tracked to color in the figure. Which went similarly to everything else, save for this time I'd use multiple layers for the shading/highlights until I was happy with it, then I merged all that onto a layer about the base color. And then, because I have one solid blue-gray base color for them, I then went back and separated the hair, skin, and shirt with their own unique colors. That was all the coloring done, so I moved on to filling all the blank "photo" spaces I'd left everywhere; the pinboard, the tumbler, even a little picture on one of the shelves. For this, I simply used my own artworks as that seemed like the fastest and easiest way. I just went through my gallery, found pieces I thought would fit properly, then copy & pasted them in and adjusted them to size. A few I did a little perspective warping on just to be thorough, but nothing too crazy. Finally, then I could move on to arguably the most important part: The overlay. Actually, aside from the overlay making the whole image look a little bit too dark, a little too saturated, that went a lot smoother than I thought it would. I just had to turn the saturation down a bit and bring the lightness up to fix that. Or, that's what I thought. I must've saved this thing 6 or 7 times thinking it was finished before spotting this, that, or the other thing (usually related to lighting or shading) that needed to be fixed. First, it was just fiddling with the overlay layer because it still seemed too dark overall, then it was tinkering with shading in various places, and then I decided to drop the ko-fi cup in there because it felt like that spot on the windowsill needed something else and I really wanted just one more logo reference. And then the bottom left corner I thought I fixed earlier now seemed too dark, so I had to un-fix/re-fix that. And of course, even after all that back-and-forth, I thought I was finally, finally done when I noticed the black checkerboard squares on the SnapChair were too dark of a black compared to the blacks/darks elsewhere in the photo, especially considering how light the area around the chair is. I'm sure I could've left it alone and it would've been okay, but my own brain wouldn't let me. So I fixed it! It's not even that noticeable of a difference, but it makes my brain feel so much better knowing it was indeed fixed. Fortunately, after that (at least for now) I stopped noticing things to tweak/fix. It's still not completely perfect, but the things I could continue playing with are at least to my satisfaction to the point I'm comfortable calling it finished. Though, honestly, it already feels like this description should be a lot longer when I think about the 3-4 days I spent working on this.    It was a lot of work, but just like I thought it would be, it was fun and I'm really happy with how it turned out. It was a real challenge as far as shading and perspective go, and obviously, for as strong of an image I had in my head when I started, it wasn't exactly a cakewalk to get it there. A lot of the lines are rough up-close, but they don't look so bad when there's so much else going on in the picture to distract from them.  Maybe I'll try the "softer" lines like this more often. I do know one thing, though, I'm going to be avoiding detailed backgrounds for a while. They always take a lot out of me. ____ Artwork (c) me, MysticSparkleWings I do not own any of the logos that inspired parts of this artwork ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

[carynsilver]

Marvel 20 Questions

I wasn't tagged, but I saw this on @musette22‘s Tumblr and decided I wanted to play. Thanks! 

1. Favorite solo film? It’s so hard to choose. It would be easier to list my top five. :-) But, I have to go with Thor: Ragnarok, because it is funny and heartwarming and I love it. Plus I have been a sucker for Thor since his first movie. Captain America: The Winter Soldier is a really close second, though.

2. Favorite team-up film? The Avengers. It was so cool seeing all the characters we’d watched in the solo movies come together for the first time. Marvel really did the solo movies to team-up movies formula right--didn’t rush it like DC did. The payoff in that first Avengers movie was great. Plus a good villain, high stakes, and a plot that I didn’t have problems with. A good mix of humor to action. Love it. Also, I’m really partial to the AUs where the Avengers all live on their own floors in the tower, and that is the movie that sets that up (even if I’ll forever be sad that they did nothing with it).

3. Favorite female character? There are a lot of BAMF chicks in the MCU, but my absolute favorite is Peggy Carter. She is strong and gorgeous and knows her worth, even a time that is worse that today about allowing women to have that value. I liked her in the first Cap movie, but I loved her even more in the Agent Carter TV series. While I like the Peggy/Steve backstory, I like Peggy better on her own. Darcy Lewis is a really close second favorite--only second because, while I liked her in the Thor movies, it was fic that really fleshed out her character, while Peggy got all that character development on screen. But we’ll see how things go with Wandavision. Maybe Darcy will get the more developed character in cannon that she deserves. (I guess the Netflix shows no longer count for the MCU, huh? Because Jessica Jones was pretty awesome, too.)

4. Favorite male character? Oh my gosh. I love both Thor Odinson and Bucky Barnes SO MUCH--it’s nearly impossible to choose. However, I have to use the rule that I used for favorite female character, and give Thor the number one spot because his character’s awesomeness is fleshed out on screen. While I still think that his first movie could’ve used a bit more middle (more time than just one night on Earth to grow and change into someone who would give his life for others), I’ve loved watching Thor’s character grow and change over the years. He tried so hard to be a Gryffindor, but he’s really a Hufflepuff. While he would’ve been an all right king due to training, he doesn’t have the heart for it, and I think he finally realized that. He is so much more than muscles and a weird accent--he’s loving, supportive, and really smart; he forgives; he’s just an awesome guy. Bucky has that whole tragic redemption arc, which is great, but they really cheated his character out of development on screen after CA:tFA and CA:tWS. Like with Darcy, a lot of his development comes from fic and head cannons. I’m really hopeful for the Falcon & Winter Soldier TV series. Maybe now Bucky will finally get the character development he deserves!

5. Best canon ship? I’m not really tied to many of the cannon ships in the MCU. I liked Tony/Pepper a lot; probably because they got a lot of screen time, and Pepper is another favorite BAMF MCU lady. Scott/Hope is also pretty good. I would’ve said Thor/Jane, except then they broke up. Maybe they will resurge to the top of the list when we get Thor 4.

6. Best non-canon ship? I love so many non-cannon ships for the MCU! I like Stucky, Stony, WinterShock, WinterHawk (but only with the more comic-esque Clint who is deaf and a disaster; not boring family man movie Clint), WinterIron (but only in no power AUs without the Bucky killed Tony’s parents angle), ShieldShock, TaserTricks a bit... Basically any ship with either Bucky or Darcy in it would have a chance, and even though I don’t love cannon Steve all that much, I like a lot of ships with him in fanfic, too. Weirdly, I never read fic about Thor or Peggy--maybe because they are so fleshed out in cannon, I don’t need more from them.

7. Favorite actor? Man, another rough one. I love Chris Hemsworth and Sebastian Stan so much. I think I have to go with Sebastian on this one, though. Chris is great, hot, and I adore him, but Sebastian did so much with a character that had relatively little screen time overall. I mean, Bucky was in five movies, but in a lot of them he was there more for the action than the actual character development (which makes me sad! he deserves more!). But the fact that he took a smaller, supporting character and made him one of my favorites in the whole universe says a lot for Sebastian’s acting. Like, a lot of actors can make you love a character when they are the main character in multiple movies, but how many can do it from the sidelines? (**crossing my fingers for lots of good Bucky in the F&WS show!**)

8. Favorite actress? Gotta go with Hayley Atwell here. The way she played Peggy was masterful. I also really love Kat Dennings, though. Second only to Hayley.

9. Favorite director? Taika Waititi, hands down. He should do all MCU movies from here on out. Prior to him, it was Joss Whedon for his great work on the first Avengers, but Joss let me down with A:AoU.

10. What was the first MCU movie you ever watched? Iron Man. Aside from Spiderman: Homecoming and The Incredible Hulk, I watched all the MCU movies in theater in the order they came out. We are dedicated Marvel fans that way. :-)

11. Which MCU movie have you watched the most? Hmmm... I’m honestly not sure. I’ve never specifically counted viewings. I know the top contenders would be Thor: Ragnarok, Ant Man, The Avengers, Thor, Captain America: the First Avenger, and Iron Man. I have definitely watched every MCU movie except the Spiderman and Hulk solo films more than once, though.

12. Favorite super-suit? I think I’d have to go with the Iron Man suit. I mean, it’s by far the most useful, and it has Jarvis (or Friday) inside. And it lets you fly! That said, if we take it as most attractive suit, then I’d be torn between Steve’s navy and white suit (sans cowl) from the beginning of CA:tWS and Thor’s suit when it bared his arms (the long-sleeved version was weird looking).

13. Favorite weapon? Mjolnir, by far. Even though it creates some weird questions/plot issues, I love the idea of a weapon that only someone with a worthy heart can use. I think my favorite moment in End Game was when they paid out on that bit from AoU and Steve busted out fighting with his shield and Mjolnir. Steve and Thor fighting together with the hammer and the axe was fabulous. I do also like Cap’s shield, even though it’s a weird choice. I’m really looking forward to Thor 4, if the rumors are true and we’re going to get to see Jane use the hammer. That will be excellent!

14. Favorite origin story? Oh, another hard one! I am a sucker for a good redemption story arc, so I think Bucky/Winter Soldier edges in for the win here. Overcoming 70 years of brainwashing and mind wipes for his best friend, struggling to get back to human again, and then trying to make up for some of the wrongs from the past (which I hope is where we’re going in the F&WS show) is excellent. Though, Thor’s journey from spoiled brat to someone who is willing to sacrifice himself for others to king to someone who realizes that he isn’t the best king and is willing to hand the crown to someone else for the good of the people that he loves is a really good one, too. I also like tiny anger-ball Steve taking a risk to become a hero with a good heart. Didn’t necessarily agree with all his choices later, but did like the origin. Solid third.

15. Favorite villain? Definitely Loki. His arc in the first Thor movie is great. And knowing that in the first Avengers movie he was affected by the mind stone adds a great layer. Plus watching him continue to mature and grow until he finally was willing to be there for his brother in Ragnarok. That was a great arc, and the character toes that line of gray morality but redemption that is so compelling to watch. His death was the worst one to me in IW/EG--I really thought he was pulling some other con, and I’ll forever be sad they dropped that thread. I hope that his show is good, and I’ll give it a chance, but I’m still bummed that we’re going back to post-Avengers Loki and losing all that character development from Thor 2 and 3. :-(

16. Favorite fight sequence? Honestly, the action and fighting are probably my least favorite parts of these movies. I know, that’s atypical, lol. Like, they are the less interesting bits I have to put up with to get the character growth I want from my superheroes. Often, the action sequences go on too long. Shorter action sequences would allow them to both keep up momentum and put in more character development, but no one in charge asks me. :-P That said, I like the action sequences best when they show character development, and the best one for that is the highway fight in CA:tWS where Cap and co. fight the Winter Soldier for the first time. No one in the whole movie had challenged Steve that far, but the Winter Soldier truly put him in danger for the first time, and his friends, too. The Winter Soldier was menacing, and then paired with the Bucky reveal at the end. Best action sequence. Though I do also love the Revengers vs. Hela in Ragnarok when Thor finally gets his full lightening powers down and crashes into the battle. He is so OP now, but in an awesome way.

17. Favorite line from any of the films? I love that bit in the first Avengers movie when Thor snags Loki, Tony flies out after him, and Nat tells Steve not go because they are basically gods. I love Steve’s line of, “There’s only one God, Ma’am, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t dress like that.” That one cracks me up even now that I’ve watched it so many times.

18. Favorite scene from any of the films? Pretty much any scene with Darcy in it is a favorite. Her stuff in the first Thor movie is gold. I also like Bucky and Steve’s goodbye scene at the beginning of CA:tFA.

19. If you could pick an Infinity Stone to keep, which would you choose? Huh... I don’t know that I’d want any of them. I guess, if pressed, I’d choose the Space stone because I think it would let me teleport. The Time stone/time travel seems interesting, but I’d be afraid I’d mess up the timelines.

20. Which Disney Plus MCU series are you most looking forward to? Falcon & Winter Soldier, hands down. Though, when I heard Darcy would be a character, that jumped Wandavision up to second place.

I think that @virtual-insomnia would enjoy this. :-) 

[ask-extra-size-hero]

gimme your knowledge of color theory. i stg, I love the palettes you use

[I suck at color theory but I have some tips.

sample colors from aesthetic pics. pick some that give the right feeling and collect the tones you think are neat (i don't have the og image for this one but i did it the same way)

pick 2-3 colors and and lighten them/darken them, mess around with saturation etc so you'll end up with tones that look close to each other but are still distinct and easy to tell apart

if you want to check if the colors are right, put on a grayscale filter and if it still looks okay, then it's probably alright

have a layer of one solid block of color (purple, yellow, orange, blue... whatever sets the mood) and put it over the background/character. change the transparency to 10-30% and it's like a nice filter, it can bring things together. erase parts of it if you want to highlight stuff

for a character, have a sample palette. I collect colors on this page for example. the shades should match their personalities. For example for Alfred i use bright, saturated, warm tones (except for the blue but it's a nice contrast) so you can tell he's energetic, happy and friendly. For Arthur we have earthy tones, all greyish, and light, except for the strawberry pink of this mouth. He's a serious, cold, rational character.

creme/beige/gray > white. don't use pure white, except for extremely high contrast outlines or details you want to make pop out. Color eyes grayish, teeth and bones yellowish, fabric gray or creme color. it makes them look more natural and blend in with their environment. for eyes I usually pick the iris color and lighten it up enough to look mostly white

i hope i could say something useful. I'm nowhere near professional these are just the things I do]

[dawnfelagund]

If you think you'd be up to it would you make something sweet with Finwe and Feanor?

A couple weeks ago, I asked for requests so I could complete Day 12 of the Fandom Snowflake Challenge. Thanks for the help with this, Anonymous! “Belated” can be found on the Silmarillion Writers’ Guild and on AO3 or below the jump. “Sweet” is always hopelessly entangled with “bittersweet” for me, but I did my best and I hope you like it!

Summary: On two occasions, Finwë was late for Fëanor's departure into the North. This story explores the complexity and evolution of the relationship between Finwë and Fëanor.

Finwë, King of the Noldor, was late and scarcely cared for dignity. The Treelight was a watery silver after the Mingling, and the streets were quiet as people sat down to their evening meals. No one would remark on seeing the King’s sockless ankles as he lifted his robes to run up an incline in the street because no one was there to see his sockless ankles. No one would marvel that he who had led them through leagues of vegetation-choked forest and over mountains that scraped the sky now puffed a little too hard as he ran up a mild hill on a cobbled street.

So Finwë ran.

What should I care for dignity anyway? This is my son.

What is wrong with me?

But he’d been able to forget Fëanáro through the entirety of his day. Well … that wasn’t entirely true. When his clerk placed his schedule in his hands that morning, it hadn’t looked particularly rigorous. He’d been certain he’d be home in time to see Fëanáro off to his first apprenticeship away from home—not just away from home, but far away to the North. But each item on his agenda had stretched just slightly longer than anticipated, and while his son and his departure loomed at the back of his awareness, he hadn’t fully accounted for the series of delays, and when at his final meeting, one of the artisans in the guild had remarked on the Mingling of the Lights, the sudden recollection that the wagon bearing sacks of correspondence and a gift of furniture and his precious firstborn son was supposed to depart the royal quarter at precisely the Mingling …

And yet he could hardly bolt from the meeting, and though he’d done all he could to bring it to a rapid conclusion, it hadn’t ended until after the Mingling, which was what accounted for his lack of dignity now.

He won’t be there. How could he be? He was supposed to pass out of the gates a full turn of the glass ago. I have failed this boy in so many ways—

Yet when he rounded into the palace courtyard, the wagon bearing the gift of furniture still remained, the furniture lumped and waiting under gray canvas coverings. The wagon that was supposed to bear the bags of correspondence and the several trunks he’d had palace staff pack for Fëanáro (as well as bearing Fëanáro) was there as well but empty, the bed still scattered with the traces of firewood it had hauled before being commissioned to take the King’s son to his apprenticeship in the North. The traces lay, horseless, upon the ground, and there was no buzz of activity to suggest an endeavor frantically behind schedule but an endeavor—abandoned.

Finwë found himself staring at the puzzling scene and drawing too-deep breaths into his tired lungs before he again remembered—Fëanáro!—and into the palace he went.

More running, up the stairs, more sockless ankles; draperies and tapestries and the occasional servant whisking past unnoticed, heavy carpets muffling the frantic weight of his footfalls; he was out of breath again by the time he arrived at Fëanáro’s chamber door, the adjoining rooms that used to belong one to him and one to his son, when his son still answered to Finwion, before Finwë married Indis and moved to the floor above in the palace and—

Finwë burst through the door. Fëanáro was carefully layering his clothing into a remarkably compact pack, his back turned to the door.

“You’re still here!” Finwë wasn’t sure himself of the meaning of the note in his voice: relief or accusation or a bit of both?

“I’m still here.” Fëanáro was fastidious about his belongings. He was carefully folding the sleeves of a tunic so that they would not wrinkle, smoothing them with a long stroke of his hands, then rolling the tunic into a little cylinder that disappeared into his pack. His voice was slightly deeper than it’d been the year before; his legs a little longer on his body but still not awkward, as was common in pre-adolescence for the Noldor, who tended to be tall and grow fast in these years midway to maturity. No, nothing was awkward about Fëanáro; he looked and spoke like a little adult. Finwë felt himself slightly disarmed, like he’d lost his footing during swordplay.

“I—” I’m glad I caught you, was what he intended to say. I’m sorry I almost missed your departure, was what he knew he should say.

What he did say: “I want to know why you dismissed the wagoners?” For it was plain, in Fëanáro’s bedroom, that that was what had happened. The trunks, carefully packed with everything a twenty-eight-year-old Noldorin prince might need, were pointedly stacked against the door that led into the rooms that had once been Finwë’s. One—the trunk that had contained his clothing—had been opened and rummaged, the finer items cast aside with a carelessness and haste (almost disdainful, Finwë realized) that he did not show toward the dingy work clothes he was presently stowing in his pack with an almost loving care.

“I gave them their wages,” said Fëanáro.

“That is not— Fëanáro, you cannot walk into the North!”

“Why not? I will be faster on foot than by wagon, having to stop at each town to deliver correspondence and needing a full day to ford each of the large rivers and probably getting stuck at least once on the Marsh Road.”

“That furniture was intended for the family that will be hosting you. It is no small request to ask someone to feed you for a year.”

The latter was intended as a joke, to lighten the mood—he could tell by the set of Fëanáro’s shoulders that it was becoming perilous—but it did not come out that way. He heard himself continue, “There are right ways to do these things, Fëanáro. We cannot simply assume because you are the high prince of our people that—”

Fëanáro whirled. “Atar, their house is too small for the furniture. It will be awkward for them to find space for it, and they will not feel they can turn it away, not while I am there. And it will mark me as their better, when they are my betters. That is the whole point of my going, to learn from them what I can of mining. I will work in the barns and help with the cooking to account for what is required to feed and shelter me. The eldest son is just married, and they could use my hands more than your furniture.” He turned back to his pack and tightened the laces. “You have never been to the North; you do not know their ways. It is not Tirion.”

This was true. Finwë had been once on progress as far north as Formenos but never beyond it. He sometimes laughed that the Great Journey had cured him of long travel for at least a millennium. And there was always much work to be done in Tirion.

When Aulë told him that he’d found a master engineer in the North willing to take on his son for an apprenticeship in mining, Finwë had burst out, “Must it be so far? To a place without even a name? Just ‘the North’?” Aulë had pondered him in one of those long moments typical of the Valar that felt like it occupied a year in the space of just a few seconds before saying, “I think it for the best that he goes to the North, yes.”

A small cooking set was secured to Fëanáro’s pack. A bedroll; his bow and just three arrows. A knife in an elegantly simple sheath went onto his belt. His hands were dexterous, practiced, fast.

“There is a reservation for you at the inn just outside the city—”

“I won’t need it. I will be able to walk farther than that tonight.” A hesitation. “I like walking in the silver hours.” He took up a walking stick, smoothed and shaped by the hand of time but carved minutely with the alphabet he’d made. Finwë still preferred the Sarati; he wondered briefly what his son’s carvings said. “I will stop at the inn, though, and compensate them for not fulfilling my reservation.”

“I do not think—”

“No, it is the right thing to do. Perhaps I will take my evening meal there too.”

“They will give you waybread in the kitchens.”

He bent to rearrange the tongue on his boot. “Atar, you know it is custom that my mother should make the waybread.” He had to loosen the laces and tugged at the leather for several seconds where neither knew what to say. Finwë stared at the alphabet on Fëanáro’s walking stick, letters that sussed and glided like the wind upon the surface of the sea. He made up his mind: By the time Fëanáro’s year-long apprenticeship in the mines to the North was over, he would have mastered the Tengwar. Maybe he would surprise his son with a letter in his own script.

Fëanáro tightened his laces and rose. He was still small enough to slide past Finwë to the door, but Finwë caught him and embraced him hard, like that sudden clutching, desperate affection might make up for so many things. But he felt little of his son in his arms: just the laden pack, a saucepan, the jut of a knife against his thigh, and Fëanáro’s furiously beating heart.

~oOo~

Finwë, King of the Noldor, was late and scarcely cared for dignity. He kept find tiny things to fix and change, then change back again, in order to keep himself from shouting at the grooms, who seemed to be tacking up his horse as slowly as possible. But when he stooped to unlace and relace his boot for the third time, he understood that he must look ridiculous.

He unlaced and relaced it anyway.

“Come on already!” he wanted to yell. “Do you not know what will be lost if I am late?”

But no, they truly didn’t, he supposed. Perhaps, from their view, the loss was in his leaving.

The trouble was that the ceremony to transfer regency to Indis had taken overlong, and the signing of documents to make it final took even longer. He blamed her people and his: hers for their insatiable need for ritual that included layer upon layer of readings and music and vows, readings and music and vows, readings and music and vows, before he placed his crown in her hands. (Not on her head! She’d been adamant about that, as that would make her king rather than regent, and that required a different ceremony, one neither of them was willing to contemplate.) His people he blamed for the bureaucracy afterward, for the conviction that until something was written down and affixed on every page with the signature of every person concerned, and three witnesses in red ink, then it could not possibly exist on the plane of reality. This is the use you have made of my son’s beautiful Tengwar! he wanted to shout, even when he knew that one of his favorite duties as king was the daily signing of documents: the beautiful illuminated borders and the flutter of the script and the smell of ink and his own imposing signature at the bottom of it and the knowledge that shelf after shelf in the royal library documented all that he’d done since the Noldor had come here.

Down the line they’d gone: first his signature, then Indis, then Nolofinwë, then Arafinwë—the sons agreeing to uphold their part of the revised succession were their mother to abdicate. Then onto the witnesses: Sailaheru and Mornólo for him and Elemmírë for his wife. Page after page marched down the line of them until there was a whole sheaf of them clipped on a line for their signatures to dry.

And he was permitted then to leave.

He ran to the stables, his family staying behind to make the necessary overtures of gratitude to the scribes and the witnesses.

He checked the saddlebags for the fourth time to make sure he’d packed his good knife and extra arrowheads. So he didn’t feel so ridiculous, he dug deeper this time: a roll of bandages, a packet of healing herbs, and waybread—

“Atar?”

She made me waybread. She must have slipped it in while I was bustling around to prepare my pack this afternoon. She must have feared I wouldn’t otherwise take it—

Guilt clutched his heart. He rose.

Behind Nolofinwë, the Lights were mingling. It caught the fine silver embroidery of his dark blue robes and surrounded him with a corona. He was stunning, Finwë realized, in a way he rarely saw. Magnificent. For a moment, he almost faltered. The light at Nolofinwë’s back made it hard to see the expression on his face, but Finwë knew his second son well enough to imagine: worried and severe.

He tucked the waybread away and closed the pack again.

“Atar, before your departure, which I agree is not unreasonable, I just wanted to say—”

“He always does that! Everything he says requires sentences of prelude!” So Fëanáro had accused once when Finwë found him kneeling, balled on the floor of his old bedroom in the palace, with tears on his face that he should have long outgrown. Little Nelyo played on the floor in the next room over. “You ask the weather and it takes him five sentences to tell it. He’s so annoying! He's—”

“My King! Your horse is ready.”

Now everything seemed to be happening too fast: the horse coming toward him, led by one groom, while the other was lifting Finwë’s saddlebags and pack and bow and arranging them upon the horse and him, and there was a mounting block (Fëanáro always leaped straight from the ground, and occasionally if he’d had too much wine or was expounding fervently on some subject and was thus distracted, he missed and slid back, and he’d laugh with such hilarity with his sons, half-fallen on the ground beside his horse), and the poor beast was being piled with baggage and Finwë—

He turned to Nolofinwë. Sensing Finwë’s anxiety, the horse beneath him pranced and fidgeted. “I am glad to hear it. Speak on our family’s behalf before the Valar. When they will cede control of our family again to me, in recognition of my rights, then I will return with your brother and his sons, and with joy I will take up my crown again.” Behind Nolofinwë, Finwë caught a glimpse of a scribe, taking down his words to be filed, unsigned, away in the royal library.

He heeled his horse and clattered out of the courtyard at a reckless gallop.

From the royal quarter and down the road and out of the gates of the city, pausing not even (as was his usual habit) to speak to the guards, across the plain northwest of Tirion, the grasses silvered by Telperion and parting to make way for him as though they in their multitude recognized the rightness of his cause. He should have slowed—the plain was dotted with rabbit holes—or taken the proper road, but this was the most direct route, and a broken neck seemed a small price to pay compared with being late.

His firstborn had always kept his house outside of the gates of the city, claiming he needed the silence and relative solitude to do his work. Finwë had believed him. Now he wondered if there wasn’t something more to it and briefly hated himself for not being more insistent: You belong here, in Tirion, beside me.

Fëanáro still loved to travel in the silver hours. Eight horses were lined up at the gate. He’d taught his sons to travel light and fast, as he’d always traveled himself. He could see them, the seven boys in a little knot that looked nervous even from afar, clutched too tightly and milling just slightly as though restless for something unknowable, unnamable.

And Fëanáro, striding from his gates, leaving them carelessly ajar to flap and bang in the wind, and shouting something that the wind took before Finwë could make out the words. Whatever it was, it loosened the knot of his sons, and they went to their horses and began to mount in the manner of their father, leaping from the ground. No one fell; no one laughed.

Finwë urged his horse down the hill. “Fëanáro!” he called and then, desperately, not knowing what dredged the ancient and long-unused name from the depths of his chest: “Finwion!”

Fëanáro stumbled a little as he extracted his foot from the stirrup and turned.

Finwë reined his horse to a stop and dismounted, nearly falling from the force with which his legs—weakened by the long, hard ride—trembled beneath him. He staggered toward Fëanáro but did not have to go far. His son was already there.

Fëanáro caught him and kept him from falling with the force of his embrace. He was taller than Finwë now. Finwë clutched his shoulders, slid a hand down he ripple of his spine, buried his face in his neck as he’d done the day he was born. He smelled the same, with undernotes of woodsmoke and sweat. Fëanáro held him so hard that it hurt and started to speak but it came out only as a wordless, surfacing gasp.

Author’s Notes

A few notes on canon/verse: I am currently rereading LotR and encountered the idea the other day of Hobbits requiring the signatures of six witnesses in red ink. I like the idea of some of the Third Age traditions beginning, completely unbeknownst to those who practice them, with the ancient cultures, so here is my imagined origin of that practice.

Finwë’s witnesses are OCs that appear in other stories: Sailaheru is Pengolodh’s father and Mornólo is a scribe who briefly teaches Erestor in By the Light of Roses.

This is a Felakverse story that adheres to the timeline of AMC and the prequel that I’ve created an outline for but have been supposedly writing for years now.

Finally, Quenya names:

Fëanáro = FëanorNolofinwë = FingolfinArafinwë = Finarfin

[perpetually-jungshook]

Jungkook: Bunny Boy

Genre: AU, fantasy, street fighter Jungkook, featuring Jimin and Taehyung

Warning: violence, anxiety

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary: This offshoot of A Very Tragic Boy with Enormous Wings follows a homo-oryctolagus, a boy with antlers, and a boy with wings. They get into a bit of trouble and only one of the three can get them out of it.

photo credit: merimask on etsy (go look their masks are super cool)

✩✩✩♔✩✩✩

As the bottom tip of the sun dips below the tops of office buildings, casting the street around me in a golden haze, I pull the hem of the beanie down lower over my ears. It muffles everything and makes me slightly uncomfortable, but it helps to not draw attention. I have to get to the wharf before the sun goes down.

My hands push deeper into my pockets, hiding the dark symbols inked onto my palms as a group of humans walks by. I can just make out their voices. Stocks and gas prices, Janice at the office, bad coffee, and other mundane things. I scoff, tuning out. Wouldn’t it be nice if my biggest problem was “running out of the good creamer.”

I find Hoseok on his boat just before he usually shuts down and I can see his familiar horse ears flick toward me. Hopefully he’s willing to make one more trip.

“Take me across?” I keep my voice low, soft. It’s natural for my fauna species, but it’s also common sense to not startle a homo-equus.

“Tattoos please?” he arches an eyebrow warily.

“Oh c’mon, you’ve ferried me at least like ten times-”

“Tattoos please,” his tone gets firmer. I pull my hands from my pockets and splay my palms face up. Hoseok nods, probably less for my benefit than his. “Alright hop on.”

Hop. I can’t tell if he’s being ironic.

“So what brings you to the Hive huh?” Hoseok starts untethering the small speed boat. There’s only a small bit of humor in his voice, “How’d Namjoon indoctrinate you?”

I shrug, stepping onto the boat beside him, feeling it sway with my momentum. I hate water, namely because I never really learned how to swim.

“He didn’t do anything. I haven’t met him yet.”

“Then how did you get in?”

I take a seat, gripping the edge of the plastic chair with white knuckles. I’ve done this before. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I clear my throat, responding as quietly as the muffled warm wind and lapping of waves allow, “A friend.”

“Fauna?”

“Yeah. Homo-cervidae.”

Hoseok pauses as he reaches for the key in the ignition, “Would his name happen to be Taehyung?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Is your name Jungkook?”

“Yeah… why?” I repeat.

“Let me see them,” Hoseok turns around, leaning against the wheel, a glint in his eyes.

I sigh and lift the beanie from my head, feeling the sounds of the world flood back into my senses as my ears unfold, perking up.

“They are so-”

“Don’t you dare say ‘cute.’”

Hoseok’s eyes get large as he swallows the rest of his sentence. He coughs before continuing, “I was going to say… rabbity.”

“Nice save,” I laugh lightly, but the sound is cut short.

“So, bad news is I can’t take you across now.”

My whole body tenses with mild anxiety. Deep breaths. I bite the inside of my cheek to ground myself, make my heartbeat stop hammering in all of my pulse points. At times like these, being a homo-oryctolagus is very off-putting. Everything frightens me, even just minor inconveniences like when things don’t go according to plan.

“Why not?”

“Taehyung wanted me to tell you he found another one.”

“Another what?”

“Opponent. For a fight. The warehouse. Tonight.”

My throat pinches, limbs suddenly a bit heavy, “But I just-”

Hoseok raises his arms in mock surrender, “Don’t shoot the messenger, brother. But I’m gonna have to ask you to get off the boat.”

As the sun dips below the horizon, I backtrack, away from the wharf. It’s a shame. I’d been looking forward to sleeping on a mattress. My feet take me toward my destination on auto pilot, hands clenching and unclenching to get rid of the nerves.

“It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine,” I tell myself. “You know what you’re doing. How many times have you done this?”

Too many.

I find Taehyung outside with a few other fauna species and some humans, his still rounded antlers sticking out above the small crowd. He’s holding a notebook, likely taking bets. He spots me easily, even with the beanie carefully replaced on my head.

“My boy! Get over here,” he waves animatedly. “The star of my show. How are you?”

I weave my way to him, fighting a frown, “How do you think I am?”

“Right. I’m sorry it’s last minute, but Namjoon needs the money. We’re running out of food- okay I know. I heard you and I’ve got it written down- which as you know, is kinda important,” my friend swings around, almost smacking a human as he confirms the total for a bet. A bet on me.

I cringe.

“So head on inside- yes this is him, Bunny Boy himself. Yes! He is very big. So bet on him- Jimin is waiting for you on the far side of the ring.”

Bunny Boy.

I used to like Taehyung. I used to trust him blindly, put him on a pedestal for his “innocence” and loyalty. I used to believe in Namjoon’s cause too. Now all I see is someone who abuses his friends for the “greater good” and a place that traps people who have nowhere else to go. At least we’re making our money less illegally.

Shouts and conversations are muffled through my beanie, though I vaguely register the calling of my stage name coupled with friendly, familiar pats on the back. Usually, I would try to reciprocate the warm welcome, but today I’m too tired for this.

Tired of secrets, of sneaking around when I’m only trying to better my life, and especially of being shunned for past mistakes. I want to leave the Hive. But I just can’t seem to get out. The hope is there though, and it always will be. I subconsciously reach up and touch the place where I know it sits, the yellow tag. I can feel the plastic poking against my head and the soft, sensitive skin of my ear, especially with the beanie sitting on top of it.

The memories flash behind my eyelids. A family, somewhere in the most distant reaches of my mind. A truck, big arms that wrapped around such a little body. Claws. I cried. I was so, so afraid. The mill, the shop, the cages. A beautiful homo-felis, white ears and a white tail, probably a Siberian breed, a fellow commodity. He shared his food with me, at least, the parts I could eat. I had been so young then. He was older and he promised that if he was bought first, he would come back for me. He did.

Not knowing even vaguely in what direction my family and home were, we ran together until we couldn’t run any more. I had gotten sick. And that’s when Taehyung had found us and promised a safe haven. I haven’t seen the homo-felis since. I can hardly remember what he looks like. I can’t even remember his name, but we share the yellow tag. And it gives me the courage I need to face the ring and to eventually leave the Hive, which is just another prison, another cage- only with a little more legroom.

I drop my hand, but I can still feel the plastic there. I don’t need to be afraid. I am strong now and I’ll never let it happen again.

I shoulder my way through the crowd until I spot another familiar face. Well, not a face, but a set of mite infested, shaggy wings. They’re peppered gray and are the only set in the warehouse. I would bet my life on it.

“Jimin,” I call out and he immediately turns around, a smile brightening his expression.

“Jungkookie!” he waves me over and greets me with a headlock, pulling off my beanie and ruffling the hair between my ears as I struggle. His wings feebly yet playfully beat, sending a few feathers floating into the crowd. He lets me go. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous,” I admit, not seeing why I should lie to the one person I still consider to be my friend.

“Just do your best,” Jimin says as he unzips my jacket carefully and pushes it off my shoulders. He throws it on a bench, along with my beanie. “Alright, you know the drill. Shirt and shoes off. Get yourself warmed up.”

I excuse myself and step off to the side to stretch and limber up. I can’t help but idly search for my competition, but no one sticks out in the crowd. Taehyung is the one who comes to retrieve me.

He gives me a fervently excited smile, “Okay Bunny Boy-”

“Don’t call me that.”

He talks over my comment, “So don’t be scared, it’s just some kind of homo-felis, a leopard species I think. Don’t know the exact term…”

My chest clenches slightly, “You want me to fight a felis?”

“Yeah, I know you can do it,” Taehyung gives my shoulder a solid punch, making my fists instinctively shoot into a ready position. He just laughs. “See? Reflexes like lightening. Easy knock out.”

“Is he throwing it?”

Taehyung snorts, clearly amused, “No, but you’re gonna kick her ass.”

Her? A girl? They want me to fight a girl? I glance over at the ring again, but no one sticks out from the mixed throng of humans and fauna.

“Am I throwing it?”

“What did I just say? No you’re not throwing the fight,” he says as he drops his backpack from one shoulder, pulling out my knuckle guards. It’s a thin layer of foam meant more to protect my fingers than my opponent. He also retrieves worn bandages for my hands and wrists.

He continues as he wraps, “Just remember to be light on your feet and don’t let her get in your head. You’re stronger so rely on that-”

“I know,” I roll my shoulders as he switches hands, wrapping and then strapping on the guard.

“Power behind those punches, knocker her out quick so we can give Namjoon some cash, and I’ll take you and Jiminie out for ice cream later.”

“Can we afford that?”

“If you win, absolutely. And no pressure, but I’ve got a lot of money on you.”

Excitement outweighs the fear for a moment. It’s been so long since I’ve had something fun to eat. As I’m one of the main sources of income for the Hive, I’m unfortunately one of the first priorities when being fed, which means it’s always nutritional and purposeful. Coupled with the fact that my only responsibilities are working out and participating fights, it’s made me a tank physically. I hate it. I hate fighting. But it’s the only thing I know how to do.

“Oh ew, is that a flea?” Taehyung backs away with a grimace. “Make sure you do something about that. My rack is almost ready to start peeling so I’ll have to go in soon and I’m not letting them put that awful medicine on me again.”

Right, he’s getting them removed- no, not “removed.” He sheds them. Taehyung is one of the lucky ones. He can sell his antlers for a sum of money and those grow back. I’d once seen a homo-oryctolagus, a fauna like me, that had donated his ears. All that was left were stubs.

“Alright, let’s get you in the ring and I’ll find the announcer.”

“The ring” is everyone’s over glorified term for a tight circle in the middle of the warehouse’s concrete floor, marked off by tape. There are still bloodstains from the last time I fought. Shelves, barrels, and crates that might be empty block the immediate view from any entrance and flickering florescent lights give the area a grossly cliched atmosphere. I step beyond the tape line, still stretching my arms, still eyeing the crowd for my opponent. All I know is that she’s a girl and a homo-felis. Very helpf- I know immediately when I see her.

She’s small, barely coming up to my shoulders, and lean, yet probably weighs little over half of what I do. She’s also a high percent fauna, probably in the upper eighties, even low nineties. She is unmistakably feline with whiskers protruding from the skin near her lips and above her eyebrows, a wide pink nose pressed close to her face, fangs poking from between her thin, black lips, and flat furry ears flicking around in a mop of short, fur like hair. Spots pepper the skin that I can see, stark black on pale cream that visibly cover her back, legs, arms, and neck. The most uncanny thing is her eyes, they are too human and pierce through me like needles.

Like those of us that are less than fifty percent fauna, she would generally be rejected by society. It’s probably why she ended up here.

I do note that she is not wearing knuckle guards, which tells me she probably won’t be using her fists. Smart. She wouldn’t have the stopping power to knock me out that way. My attention travels back to her fangs and I briefly wonder if she has claws.

The girl stalks forward into the ring, barely three meters away, the tip of her long tail twitching.

My fauna prey instincts have me on high alert, nerves frayed, fight or flight instinct itching. We haven’t even started and she’s already in my head. The world around me fades, the chattering of the crowd dims to a whisper until all I can hear is the thundering of my heart.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths…

My fists clench around the bandages and the straps of the pads. Don’t succumb to your prey instincts. You are above them.

I almost go rigid and sprint when I feel the hands on me, but then I realize they’re only patting me down and checking for mods. They’ll be doing the same thing to her. Between my fingers and toes, over my sweatpants, in my hair and ears- which feel hot and sensitive from stress.

“…Bunny Boy from the Hive- much deadlier than his name makes it seem, I promise. He’s got a knockout count of thirty seven with a kill count of one,” the announcer’s familiar voice breaches the fog of fear in my mind. It’s my brain recognizing something familiar and knowing it’s leading to a fight. It knows I have to pay attention. “And Bengie from… where are you from, sweetie?”

The announcer, a homo-taurus, towers over the leopard girl, bulky build even making me look small in comparison. His bull horns are long, voice booming, and while he has a gentle temperament most of the time I know from personal experience that one kick from his hooves can knock someone out cold.

“Up north a bit,” the girl practically purrs, voice soft, almost childlike. I suddenly wonder how old she is. “We call ourselves the Pride and are more of a nomadic group than a… well built establishment like your infamous Hive. Knockout count two.”

She stares directly at me and a chill runs down my spine.

“Kill count seventeen.”

Those numbers mean nothing. That’s what I tell myself. What if she’d been in fifty fights? A hundred? I’ve only lost three times. Those numbers mean nothing. But then I see it in her eyes, the glint of murder.

It’s not uncommon for fauna to enter fight rings, publicly, legally, or illegally. Humans and other species find it entertaining and so it is fairly lucrative. I, however, dislike the thought of having people tear each other limb from limb for a show. Yet here I am. Ironic and so terribly hypocritical.

Deep breaths.

“Okay rules are simple,” the announcer’s voice booms, causing me to spook. I can usually control trembling here, in the ring. But this girl, Bengie, she sees right through me. “Stay inside the lines and stop if I say so. Because you came here knowing the stakes, all fighting tactics are fair game. On my count.”

I get into a defensive stance, arms up, ready to block, not quite knowing how she’ll try to attack but knowing she will.

“Three.”

I glance at Taehyung with his velvety antlers. This better pay for everything. So last minute and against a homo-felis, a predator. I feel bitter, but not resentful. He was my friend- is my friend, but I’ll never trust him the way I did before.

“Two.”

I glance at Jimin with his peppered gray wings, down feathers plucked to sell for pillows and flight feathers tattered from lack of use and proper care. I wish I could do something to help him. He’s a kind person who shouldn’t be here either.

“One.”

It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.

“Fight!”

My mind processes everything in a second, all in one look. Bengie’s position, footing, the tightening of her muscles. I can visualize her movements. She’s going to jump left. My prey instincts kick in and I dodge right. Her movements are fluid and she lands without a misstep.

“C’mon, Bunny Boy, where are those punches I’ve heard so much about?” she purrs. “Come hit me.”

I’m not conflicted about hitting a girl. She chose to be here. She knows the consequences of stepping into the ring. Really, I’m hesitating because I don’t want to get close. I’d be willing to bet she’s going to rely on teeth and claws and with seventeen deaths to her name, I’m not willing to take chances and mess around.

I don’t respond, blood roaring in my ears. She pounces again, and again. Gotta think on my feet. I have to be appreciative for that extra homo-oryctolagus bounce in my step. Still, Bengie is fast. It’s almost as if we’re dancing- though this waltz sends pins and needles of fear into all of my nerves.

“Hit me,” she hisses as the crowd starts to boo. “Or are you a coward?”

With this, I get sloppy. I punch left with the same strength I used to knock out a homo-equus last week. I figure if I can take down a person that’s seventy percent solid-muscled work horse, I can fight a little girl. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

Deep breaths.

She ducks under my fist and pain blossoms on my side. I stagger backwards, clutching the skin where it stings. I draw my hand away to find lines of blood on my bandage covered palm. She scratched me.

My attention immediately flicks up, expecting to see Bengie attacking again, but she’s only standing still, watching me with a cruel smile. She’s toying with me. I need a strategy. As she pounces again, my mind begins to flip through my options. I bounce on the balls of my feet, side stepping her quick claws. I can see them, wedged between her fingers, short but thick and sharp. It sends chills and goose bumps across my skin.

She’s too nimble to land a direct hit and I can’t fake a punch at the risk of loosing my footing and or concentration, allowing her to fillet me. I need to think but my heartbeat thunders above any strategies my brain tries to shout at me.

Usually, I would let my body handle this, move naturally with hardly any thought. But if I took away my thoughts now, I would be relying on pure instinct and I would be running out of this ring, out of the warehouse, away from Bengie. And this means no money.

I strike out again, earning me another set of scratches, this time on my cheek. Not wanting to lose momentum, I continue punching with provenly effective form, but all I hit is air. Wound after wound, I can feel her opening skin with every strike. Never too deep, just enough to draw small amounts of blood.

My whole body starts to sting, throb. I won’t die from these minor injuries, but my vision is starting to blur from the pain and I can tell I’ve lost a step in speed. Blood has gotten into my left eye. I can taste it too. It’s everywhere, beading along my skin. She’s doing this to get me weak so she can latch on and go for the kill. I need to think.

What wouldn’t she expect? Someone Bengie’s size relies on outlasting her opponent, turning their own size and strength against them. She plays a fight of attrition. So, what if I make her think I’m wearing out? Then what? I don’t know, but at least I’ll have a proverbial ace up my sleeve.

I don’t slow my next movement for fear of alerting her perceptive eyes, but I let my punch hang for a moment too long. She takes the bait, retractable claws stretching out, digging into my arm as she uses it as leverage to literally climb my body. Before I can even stumble with the additional weight, Bengie is on my back and the sting of her claws is nothing compared to her fangs in my neck.

An inhuman sound tears up my throat, panic spreading through my system faster than wildfire. My hands automatically shoot back, trying to get rid of the thing causing me pain, but I can’t get a grip on her. The fur on Bengie’s head isn’t long enough to grab and as I spin around and around, I learn that her hold is too strong to simply throw off. My body starts to lock up in fear, blind panic making my ears ring. I can’t pull her away. I can’t shake her off. I can’t do anything. I’m going to die.

Then I feel it, the brush of the plastic tag against my arm as I reach back. A face flashes to the front of my memory, a friendly smile, implicit trust.

Deep breaths.

I pull my hands up to cover the back of my head and drop, rag-dolling. My full, dead weight collapses directly on top of Bengie and I can feel the air get knocked out of her, hear the sickening crack as her head hits the concrete floor. While Bengie’s fangs don’t dislodge, she does go limp, not moving as I lie on top of her.

A few seconds pass- my own body feeling like lead, still throbbing and stinging- before I reach back, pry her teeth out of me, roll off of her, and shakily get to my feet.

The homo-taurus announcer calls it when Bengie doesn’t move. I can see the subtle rise and fall of her abdomen as she breathes, but it’s shallow, the opposite of my heavy panting. My vision blurs as I watch the announcer examine her, but I can see a small tendril of blood uncurling. Yes, specks of crimson from my scratches pepper the ring, but this is different. It’s still spreading.

I less listen than watch the homo-taurus say that I’ve won.

Hands.

In my peripheries, I can see peppered gray wings and feel the press of something to my neck, likely gauze. I also register a quiet “don’t move.” Still, the majority of my attention is dedicated to another homo-felis. He looks like a tiger with the orange, black, and white markings on his face and pricing yellow eyes, narrowed in hate… which are staring, fixated, predatorily at me.

“Okay while Taetae collects the money, let’s get you out of here and patched up,” Jimin’s voice is firm but gentle as he guides me away from the ring where there will probably be one more fight tonight. We step outside into the cool night air, onto an empty street before he continues. “This bite is pretty deep. We’ll have to bandage it before we go back to the Hive tomorrow. Hoseok probably knows we’ll be at the wharf bright and early-”

“Bunny Boy, where the fuck you think you’re going?” a voice that’s deep and raspy, almost a growl stops us.

Jimin glances backward, an action made difficult by my arm over his shoulders. His voice is curt, but not disrespectful, “We’ve left the ring. It’s not your business.”

“It is very much my business,” the speaker grabs my collar, spinning the both of us around, and I immediately recognize the pattern on his face. It’s the tiger man from inside. “He hurt Bengie.”

“That’s the point,” I mutter, barely able to catch a breath, less breaking away than stumbling out of his reach. “It’s fighting.”

“No one ever hurts Bengie,” he rasps, raising his fists and unsheathing his retractable claws.

I can feel Jimin go rigid, one of his wings brushing my back as he grabs my arm to support me, “My friend needs medical attention. We can settle this later.”

“No. I’ll be needing that money to… cover her medical expenses.”

And that’s when I realize it was all a setup. Taehyung had found me a fight alright, but what neither of us knew is I was meant to loose no matter what. At least, in terms of the cash payout.

“We don’t have the m-”

“I know you bet on him,” the tiger nods at me, but addresses my friend. “Now give me the money.”

Jimin scoffs, “We don’t have it.”

“Then Bunny Boy dies,” the tiger snarls. He leaps. My friend is the one who thinks fast, pushing me, the momentum carrying him the other way. I fall to the ground. The homo-felis bears his fangs as he whirls around. The last thing I remember seeing before passing out is his piercing yellow eyes.

The voices are muffled and distant, like they’re coming at me through a padded tunnel.

“What the fuck happened?”

“He got mauled-”

“You let him get mauled?”

“What was I supposed to do? Die? He was a damn tiger and I only have wings that don’t work- stop yelling. Jungkook’s lost too much blood. We have to get him to a hospital.”

“We don’t have the money for that.”

“But we can’t just leave him.”

“So what? We waste all the money we just made? Let everyone else starve?”

“J-just help me carry him. I’ll think of something.”

✩✩✩♔✩✩✩

Part of the Fauna Series.

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[dovechim]

where the lines overlap (m)

jimin x reader red strings of fate soulmates! au

8.8k words

rated m for dirty talk, creampie kink, idk i just wanted to write a jimin soulmate au but whoops my finger slipped?? :/

recommended music: where the lines overlap by paramore! it’s my favourite paramore song EVER :)

Summary: there’s an ancient Chinese folklore of the red strings of fate that connect one person to another. These two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, and the magical, invisible thread may tangle or stretch, but it will never sever. You’ve never believed in these mystical threads of fate like everyone else, but one day you suddenly gain the ability to see the threads connecting the people around you.

 The door slams shut, jolting you out of your peaceful reverie. If it had been anyone else, you’d be beyond annoyed to be interrupted while doing your weekly readings, but not when it’s him. The person in question knocks gently on your door before peeking his head in, strands of his bleached dove gray hair spilling over into his eyes, and you can’t help but smile at the sight of him.

“Hey, I got dinner on the way back,” Jimin’s cheeks round out into a smile that reaches all the way to the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Every time he comes home he’s constantly sweaty and worn out, but it’s part and parcel of the life he chose as a dance major.

Tossing aside your notes, you follow him out into the small dining area of your shared apartment, still in your sweats. When he makes a move to sit at the table, you give him a playful swat on his chest.

“Shouldn’t you wash up first? If I’d known you were this gross, I wouldn’t have agreed to room with you two years ago,” you pretend to wrinkle your nose at his sweaty form, all while ignoring the way his shirt is moulded to his chest.

“Says the one still in her sweatpants. Looks like someone isn’t that hungry tonight,” Jimin smirks back, reaching across the table to grab the box of takeout that you were in the midst of opening. “I could totally do with those extra calories after Hoseok hyung cracked down on us today…”

“I’m just kidding Chim,” you hastily snatch back the takeout box just as he opens the lid of it, the delicious smell of hot noodles and fried pork slices wafting into the air. “Oh my god this smells so good, I’ve been starving all day!”

“Wait, Jinwoo didn’t come by? It’s your free day right? I thought he usually comes by to hang out in the afternoons,” Jimin pauses in his chewing to study your expression carefully, but you’re too busy inhaling mouthfuls of stir fried noodles.

“Jinwoo oppa said he was busy today,” you say around a mouthful of vegetables and noodles. “He has that huge midterm coming up next week, so I told him he should stay home and study.”

Jimin looks like he’s about to say something snide about your boyfriend of nearly 6 months, so you stuff a large piece of meat into his mouth instead.

“Yes I know, he was busy last week and the week before that too, but we’ve been dating for a while so we don’t need to see each other so often. We’re over that honeymoon stage already.” You say in a dismissive tone, focusing on chasing the remaining few strands of noodles around with your chopsticks and avoiding his gaze.

He looks reluctant to drop the subject, but during these two years of living together, he’s become more than apt at reading your body language. Sensing that he won’t get anything more out of you, he moves to change the topic, running his fingers through his sweaty hair and pushing it back from his face.  “Taehyung asked me to go with him to get a reading done today after dance class.”

This piques your interest.  “Really? At where? At that new agency near school?” 

“Yeah,” he says as he stands and reaches to get two mugs, pouring water into both of them before returning to his seat. “Apparently they have a student deal, like a buy one get one free thing. Do one test and get the second one free.”

“Did you do it?”

“Nah, I didn’t want the food to get cold,” Jimin raises his eyebrows playfully. “Besides, if I’d been a minute later I think you’d have starved to death.”

Resisting the urge to flick a stray pea at him, you roll your eyes in mock exasperation. “I’ll have you know I’m more than apt at calling for delivery, Park.”

“Yeah, I know, they probably have your order memorised already,” he giggles, and in his mirth the water in his cup sloshes over onto the table. It takes a while for his laughter to subside. “But on a serious note, do you wanna do it?”

“What? Me? You know I don’t believe in those things,” you meet his eyes over the rim of your mug. “It’s ridiculous. How can a total stranger see the red line of fate between me and my supposed ‘soulmate’ if I can’t see it myself? Do these mythical lines even exist?” 

“So you don’t think Jinwoo is your soulmate?”

“No, I do. I don’t need some red string to tell me that, and definitely not some shady little fortune teller. Why should I pay someone money to tell me something I already know?” You wrinkle your nose at the thought of who knows how many people these agencies have been scamming all these years, ever since people started believing in the red string of fate that ties them to their soulmate. There’s silence in between the both of you as you watch Jimin trace the rim of his mug tentatively with his fingers.

“Yeah, it seems pretty shady to me too,” he says finally.

“But Chim, you know you have my support if you ever wanna go to one right? Don’t let my scepticism stop you. It’s just a glorified matchmaking agency anyway.”

He makes a noncommittal noise in response, eyes fixated on the handle of his mug. In an attempt to lighten the mood, you reach over and pinch his bicep lightly. “I bet I’m a way better matchmaker than any of those agencies anyway. Want me to introduce you? I have tons of hot friends, maybe… oh what about Yeri? She’s a dance major too so you’ll definitely like her! She’s been pestering me to introduce you to her ever since I told her about your 8 pack abs.”

“Wait, you told her about my abs?” His eyes widen comically, and the once sombre mood is lifted. “My non-existent abs? Or to be more accurate, ab, as in singular because it’s just a layer of fat?”

“Park Jimin, you’re a horrible liar, I’ve seen when you walk out of the shower with no shirt on,” you shoot him a glare that’s meant to admonish, but immediately start dissolving into uncontrollable giggles when he starts to pat his lower stomach.

“Do you hear that, _______? It’s the sound my belly makes when it’s full, but more importantly that’s the sound of fat and not muscle,” he says as he continues to tap on his lower stomach like one would a drum, and it’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen him do.

“Shut up or I’ll go over there and see that layer of fat for myself,” in the midst of your laughter you reach over and attempt to grasp the hem of his shirt, but he stops you when he swoops you into his arms and deposits you on the kitchen counter behind you. Your legs instinctively part, making room for him to situate himself between them, and with both arms pinned tightly to your sides, you can’t move.

From up close you can see every single detail of his angelic features, warm brown eyes the colour of dark honey partially hidden by the delicate skin of his hooded eyelids, paper thin ivory skin revealing networks of veins beneath them, to his cute little button nose that he likes to scrunch whenever he’s laughing way too hard at one of your jokes that probably wasn’t all that funny. Your eyes trail down to his lips, resting on the cupid’s bow of his upper lip and the full plushness of his bottom one, remembering the exact way he likes to bite down on it in concentration during his dance routines. It’s impossible not to have tension with a roommate of the opposite sex, and you and Jimin are no exception. The tension bubbles just under the surface every time you catch him fresh out of the shower and yet to put on a shirt, or when he sees you walking around the house without a bra, thinking he won’t notice. But to acknowledge this tension would be the tipping point, that one last drop of water that breaks the surface tension. 

Jimin tears his eyes away from your lips. “I should go shower.”

You almost miss the feeling of his gentle breaths on your collarbone and you can still feel the warmth from his hands on your waist as you watch him head for the bathroom. But a sense of guilt floods your chest the second he steps out of your line of sight, and you’re reminded that you already have Jinwoo.

*

Maybe it’s your guilty conscience that prods you into saying yes when Jinwoo invites you to a frat party at his house, when usually you’d beg him to stay in for the weekend instead. You drop Jimin a text, letting him know that you won’t be home till late, but he doesn’t reply. He’s usually at the dance studio putting in extra hours on the weekends, so it doesn’t bother you. 

“You look great babe,” Jinwoo’s eyes slide over your body approvingly. He steps closer and winds his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as his eyes meet yours in the mirror. You smile at him in response, giving yourself a brief once over. The black off shoulder dress that you have on is a little short and tight for your liking, but the look on Jinwoo’s face is more than worth it. He’s always complaining that you don’t dress up enough for him, so this is the least you could do, especially when attending a party with him. Twisting around in his grasp, you fend off his hands with a giggle as they trail down your sides teasingly. 

“We’re gonna be late for the party, c’mon,” you say as you grab his hands to keep them from trailing any lower. He responds with a pout, but reluctantly backs off and leads you toward the door.

The frat party is Jinwoo’s usual scene, so he blends in effortlessly the moment he steps into the house. Choruses of greetings and cheers meet the both of you, and you awkwardly hang back as your boyfriend is welcomed into the party with slaps on the back and hugs from his fellow sports science majors. He’s swept away into the heart of the party with a wave of people that seem to emerge from nowhere, and you’re left trying to navigate the sea of bodies amidst the pounding music that’s already way too loud. Swallowing back a pang of regret, together with the fervent wish to be back home and snuggled under your covers, you make your way to the kitchen for a drink, hoping that a shot or two will at least make this entire night a little less painful. 

You’re still way too sober than you’d like to be when a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist. You tense for a moment, the alcohol and loud music dulling your senses but relax again when you realise that it’s just Jinwoo. He seems to be already more than half wasted, slurring against your neck.

“There you are babe… I’ve been looking for you all night,” he mumbles. His hot breath on your neck makes your palms clammy with sweat instantly, and you try to stave off this strange feeling of anxiety that suddenly overcomes you. “Yugyeom told me we’re free to use the rooms upstairs… how ‘bout it babe?”

The urge to reject him outright bubbles up in your throat, and instantly a feeling of guilt washes over you, replacing the earlier anxiety. 6 months into your relationship and you haven’t been more intimate with Jinwoo apart from some light petting, and even though he tells you sweetly that he’s willing to wait however long it takes, his patience has been wearing thin recently. It’s not that you aren’t attracted to him- you tell yourself. He swept you off your feet (literally) the first time you met him- nursing a sprained ankle from an overeager attempt at volleyball. That instant connection between you and him was undeniable, and even though you’d never gone for a soulmate reading, Jinwoo believed in this whole line of fate thing- and he’d gone for a reading behind your back. You were angry at first, but when he told you the result, it was impossible for you to stay mad at him. He’s your soulmate, and soulmates are supposed to be attracted to one another in every way possible.

So you give him a smile and kiss his cheek. “Why don’t you go on ahead? Give me a minute and I’ll be right up.”

He seems to take a minute or two to register your response before his eyes widen. “R-really?”

“Yes, really.” He’s out the door and heading upstairs in a flash, and you resist the urge to just bail on the party and go home immediately.

You reach for your phone to check for any new messages, trying to steel your nerves and definitely not looking for an excuse to back out. For some reason your stomach sinks when there isn’t a reply from Jimin, and you lock your phone again, jaw set in determination as you pour yourself another drink. Maybe if you’re drunk this night won’t be so bad after all.

One drink blurs into another, or three more, and when people’s faces around you have blurred into unrecognisable blobs you decide that you’re finally drunk enough. You have to elbow people out of the way in order to get to the stairs, but you’re far past politeness and niceties by this point. When you reach the landing, there are three rooms down the hallway, and you try and recall if Jinwoo had told you which room to meet him in. But your memory is foggy, and you decide the best method is trial and error, so you knock on the first door and open it.

The first sight that greets you is a mess of tangled limbs on the bed, so you decide that this is the wrong room. You’re just about to apologize and close the door again, but a very familiar moan stops you in your tracks. Through your blurry vision, you can just make out a familiar silhouette on the bed with another girl on top of him. She’s stripped down to her bra already, and his hands are firmly on her waist, encouraging her to grind down against him as he moans again.

“Jinwoo?” Blinking rapidly to clear your blurry vision- be it alcohol induced or from tears- his face suddenly comes into full focus, and you almost wish it hadn’t.

Maybe it’s the loud music from downstairs, or maybe they’re just too caught up in the heat of the moment, or maybe your throat is more raw than you thought from all those shots- Jinwoo doesn’t stop as he reaches to unhook the bra of the girl on top of him. Nausea rushes up and nearly threatens to consume you, and you tear yourself away from the door, taking the stairs two at a time.

The image of his hands on her porcelain skin is burnt into the back of your eyelids, and your hands are trembling in an effort to retrieve your phone. It takes you a few tries to unlock it successfully, and even more to find the name of the contact that you want. When you find it, you press the call button harder than necessary, and pray that he picks up.

“Hello?” His voice sounds rough, and he’s panting from exhaustion, but that single word alone is enough to slow your panicked sobbing.

“Jimin? I’m sorry for calling in the middle of your practice but-” Your voice cracks, and he instantly knows that something is wrong.

“______? What happened? Where are you? Are you okay?” His barrage of questions immediately sends a pang through your heart, and a renewed bout of tears threatens to engulf you.

“No. I’m not okay,” you choke out.

“I’m coming to get you, just drop a pin on your location and stay there okay?” His voice drops into baritone whenever he’s worried or upset, and the lisp of his satoori is more prominent than usual.  

“Okay,” you whisper, and the rustling sounds in the background tells you that he’s hastily packing his things in the dance studio and running out. You don’t want to press the end call button, because then you’d really be alone at this party and forced to think about what Jinwoo is probably doing right now, but you have to send Jimin your location. So you end the call and make your way outside, sending your location to his phone.

*

It’s a fair distance from Jimin’s dance studio to the frat house you’re at, but somehow he arrives seemingly seconds after you hang up. Worry is creased along his forehead, bare with his sweaty fringe swept back and his eyes land upon you immediately, taking in your tear stained cheeks.

“______, what happened? Wait never mind, tell me later. Let’s go home ok?” He drapes the jacket he was carrying across your shoulders, wrapping an arm around your waist to guide you to his car nearby.

The warmth of his arm around your waist lends a sense of security you’ve never felt with Jinwoo, and you lean into him, burying your nose into his chest and allowing yourself to breathe in the comforting scent that is all Jimin. He opens the car door for you, making sure you get in safely before heading to the other side. You’re not sure how you last the drive back to your apartment, but the streets and signs pass by in a blur of colours.

You’re a walking zombie, numb with tears by the time Jimin helps you settle into your bed, tugging one of his oversized dance shirts over you and helping you to peel off your dress from underneath. He kneels on the floor with your feet in his lap trying to take off your shoes, and reaches over to tuck you in and presses his lips to your forehead gently before turning to leave. You stop him with a hand on his wrist.

“Chim? Can you stay with me? It’s just… every time I close my eyes I see him. With her.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, and positions himself on the floor beside your head.

“No, not there,” you tug on his hand and shift in your bed, lifting the covers and motioning for him to climb in. 

He seems to hesitate for a while, but eventually gives in and slides under the covers beside you, and your bodies fit together perfectly. It’s not the first time you’ve slept in the same bed with him, you used to do this all the time before you got together with Jinwoo, and the aching familiarity of feeling the contours of his body against yours makes everything feel right again. His chest against your back feels solid, and you feel relaxed enough to try and close your eyes again, and this time with the weight of Jimin’s arms securely around your waist, all that greets you is the welcome darkness of sleep.

*

“______? I’m so sorry baby, I swear-” A voice startles you from your sleep, and the familiar voice sends a jolt through you. You struggle to sit up, belatedly realising that Jimin is still sound asleep in your bed and Jinwoo is currently pounding on your door. Your heart leaps into your throat as your mind races for a way to somehow hide Jimin somewhere before Jinwoo makes it in or else-

The door bursts open and you almost regret giving Jinwoo the key. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I can explain-”

His eyes land upon Jimin, who’s just stirring awake, and you can almost see the rage that fills his eyes.

“What the fuck? What is he doing in your bed? Did you fuck him?”

“Jinwoo, we didn’t do anything,” Jimin starts, but Jinwoo silences him with a nasty snarl. 

“Get your hands off my girl.”

The reality of the situation sinks in, and indignance fills you. “How is this worse than what you did last night? I saw you and her grinding each other with my own two eyes, and you still have the nerve to act like this?”

“Last night- I can explain. I was drunk, and when Nayeon came in, I thought she was you. I didn’t realise it until I woke up a couple of hours later, and that’s when I knew I fucked up, baby. I swear, it was an honest mistake!” His eyes are imploring you to believe him, and you can’t help but glance at the way Jimin’s fists have balled up in your sheets and his jaw is clenched in anger.

“You won’t let a silly mistake get in the way of us right? We’re soulmates,” Jinwoo pleads. “Listen, if you forgive me, I’ll forget that he slept in your bed last night.” 

“What? How the hell is that even the same thing? I don’t think you get the situation here-” Jimin is furious, but you quiet him with a glance. 

“Jimin, I think you should leave.” You say calmly, and he shoots you an uncertain look before reluctantly getting to his feet. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Jimin doesn’t acknowledge your last statement, brushing past Jinwoo on the way out. Once he leaves the room, Jinwoo visibly relaxes, and makes his way to sit beside you on the bed, taking your hand into his. You immediately want to wrench your hand from his grip, imagining how his hands were all over Nayeon last night, but force yourself to remain put.

“Thank you for giving us another chance, baby. No matter what happens, we’re soulmates and the red string between us won’t ever break.”

*

“Mhhm babe, just wait a second ok? I have to finish this paper,” you say as Jinwoo mouths at your neck. You’re almost reaching the concluding paragraph of your thesis, and the end of a very long all-nighter. You’re positive that the bags under your eyes and your sallow complexion is less than attractive right now, but Jinwoo doesn’t seem to mind as he continues to feel you up, sliding a hand under your shirt and towards your braless chest. It’s been a month since that incident at the frat party, and it’s hard not to reject Jinwoo’s many attempts at intimacy without being reminded of that night. 

For the past month Jinwoo has been inviting himself to stay over in your room almost every day, and it left you with barely any chance to talk to Jimin alone. The relationship between you and Jimin is more strained than ever, and you don’t miss the way his lingering eyes glimmer with regret whenever he sees you and Jinwoo in the apartment, or the way he awkwardly avoids any interaction with you after that night. 

Irritation wells up in you, and you attribute it to crankiness from pulling an all-nighter. You place a hand on his chest and push him away firmly, struggling to focus on getting your last few sentences just right. The submission is in less than two hours, and you can’t afford to be distracted. Jinwoo only rolls his eyes in annoyance, but you don’t notice.

“God, I can’t believe this,” he says as he starts to gather his things. “Why call me over if you’re gonna be like this? I didn’t come over to watch you stare at your screen you know.”

“I’m sorry babe but I really need to finish this and-” The sound of a door opening interrupts you, and you look up, fully expecting Jinwoo to be on his way out but he only meets your gaze. 

“Is that Jimin?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I think so. He’s probably leaving for his morning run, why?”

Jinwoo narrows his eyes at you. “You don’t wear a bra around the house? Especially when you live with another man that’s not your boyfriend?” 

“Why are you making a fuss out of this all of a sudden? I’ve been living with Jimin for two years, and there’s nothing going on between us! He’s just like a brother to me,” you abandon your laptop and reach for his hand, but Jinwoo rips it away.

“Really? A brother? Do you really expect me to believe that? Especially when you won’t even go for a reading like I asked you to?” Jinwoo sneers, looking down at you from where he stands.

“What? What are you talking about? You know I don’t believe in that red string of fate stuff,” you cross your arms over your chest adamantly. “I thought I made that clear when we started dating.”

“How would I know if you aren’t fucking him behind my back? Is that why you’ve been pushing me away lately? With all the time that you two spend together holed up in here, it’d be so easy for something to happen and I wouldn’t even know.” Jealousy is an ugly creature, and you see it reflected in the way doubt and malice worm their way into his eyes, once filled with so much love and admiration for you. “If only you’d just take that damn test-”

“Enough, get out. I don’t need this shit right now, we can talk when you’re calmer and not jumping to conclusions,” you head over to the door and open it, motioning for him to leave.

He hesitates for a second and you almost wish he’d enclose you into his arms and apologise, like he always does when the both of you argue. But this time he storms out without a word, leaving you to collapse in a heap in the middle of your room, staring at your unfinished paper on your laptop with tears blurring the sentences into unrecognizable chunks of text.

But then your fight or flight instinct kicks in, and you grit your teeth, blinking away tears and completing your last sentence, typing with more force than needed. Once done, you save the document and upload it to be submitted, before reaching for your phone and scrolling through your contacts list until you find the name you’re looking for.

Kim Taehyung.

You’re more than thankful that Jimin’s overly boisterous, cheerful classmate had grabbed your phone to program his number in even after just running into you when he’d been by the apartment to go over a group project. You hadn’t been expecting this number to come in handy anytime soon, at least not in this way.

“Hello, Kim Taehyung? It’s _______ here. Do you want to go for a reading now?”

* 

Sweat collects on the palms of your hands, and you hastily wipe them on your jeans. Standing outside the agency, you feel the weight of all of the stares from strangers around you, and you’re not sure if it’s entirely your imagination, but your shoulders grow heavier from their judgemental eyes.

“Relax, _______.” Taehyung squeezes your arm.

“Easier said than done,” you roll your eyes at him in a pathetic attempt to hide your nervousness. “What happens in there?” 

“They’ll read your left hand, take a closer look at your ring finger since that’s where the string is tied,” Taehyung says as he places hands on your shoulders, guiding you into the building and towards a row of chairs that are lined up beside the receptionist counter. The entire room is decked out in a bright fuschia that makes your head pound, and the scent of lavender that’s meant to soothe achieves the opposite effect instead. The walls are decorated with pictures of successful soulmates, and posters boasting of the success and accuracy rate make you want to throw up in your mouth. “Then you have to provide a specific name, and they’ll tell you if you and that person are a match.”

“Wait, I have to ask about a specific person? They can’t tell me who my soulmate is off the bat?”

Taehyung nods in confirmation.

“And they don’t need the person that I ask about to be present either? How does any of this make sense?” 

He only shrugs nonchalantly. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. Anyway, you have nothing to lose right? Jimin says you don’t believe in it anyway.”

Taehyung’s deep voice calms you a little. “Jimin told you about me?”

“I swear, you’re all he can talk about,” he rolls his eyes. “I’m kinda surprised you asked me instead of him.” 

His words remind you of the real reason why you’re here, and you hesitate a little before saying vaguely, “I just… needed to prove something to someone. Once and for all.”

You don’t mention how letting Jimin know about this would mean having to tell him about the fight with Jinwoo as well, and that would be one more opportunity for Jimin to tell you that you should break up with Jinwoo, more evidence to fuel Jimin’s dislike for your boyfriend. He already has plenty as it is.

The receptionist interrupts your musing when she calls your name, and you give Taehyung’s hand a small squeeze before standing and taking a deep breath.

“I’ll wait for you here okay? You’ll be fine,” Taehyung flashes you a boxy smile that’s a lot more reassuring than you expected of him, and you return the smile gratefully.

You’re ushered into a small room with a lone desk and two chairs. The bespectacled young woman on the opposite side of the desk is dressed in a doctor’s coat, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at the shadiness of this entire concept. Instead, you greet her politely and take a seat opposite her.

“Welcome, _______ssi. Thank you for letting us reveal your soulmate to you. I’m Dr Lee Yoojung, and I’ll be your consultant for today. If you feel uncomfortable at any point during this session, please let me know.” She pauses slightly to let her words sink in. “Now to begin, if you could place your left hand on the table?”

You comply, and watch as she closely examines your palm first, before focusing on your ring finger just as Taehyung had mentioned. She traces the tip of your finger down to the knuckle, her feather light touch is gentle yet unnerving at the same time. She hums lightly in satisfaction before releasing your hand.

“Tell me, _______ssi. Do you have a person in mind that you’d like me to evaluate for you?”

A lump forms in your throat, and you’re almost unable to get the next few words out. “Uh-hm, yes, I do actually. His name is… Kim Taehyung.”

Yoojung frowns in concentration, tracing her fingers over the light blue veins in the junction of your knuckle. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid to say that he’s not your soulmate. There’s no string connecting the both of you.”

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding, relieved that she’d at least passed this preliminary test of yours. “C-can I do one more person?”

She smiles reassuringly. “Of course, go ahead.”

“Jung Jinwoo.”

This time she seems to take a little bit longer, encasing the entire palm of your hand in hers and closing her eyes in concentration. You study your hand in hers just as intently, hoping to spot just a glimpse of this fabled red string of fate around your ring finger. After what seems like an eternity of silence, Yoojung finally opens her eyes with a smile.

“______ssi, I’m very pleased to tell you that Jung Jinwoo is indeed your soulmate. The string connecting you to him is a little hard to focus on at first, but it’s definitely there. It’s been knotted and tangled recently, have you two been going through a rough patch?”

Your heart is in your throat and all you can manage is a nod.

“Ah, just as I thought. Don’t worry, _____ssi. This red string of fate may tangle and stretch, but it will never break. Just as the two of you may have disagreements and misunderstandings, in the end you will always find your way back to each other. Your fate is written in the stars, and reflected in this string of fate between you.”

Her words are met with silence as you release a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You’d known with all your heart that Jinwoo was your soulmate before coming in to do this silly little test, but with recent events, the niggling doubts were increasingly harder and harder to ignore. This test was a way of squashing those tiny little doubts once and for all, but somehow hearing it confirmed like this by a total stranger makes you feel uneasy. Instead of being reassured like you thought you would be when you called Taehyung, disappointment sits like a stone in the middle of your chest, and all you can do is nod and thank Yoojung, rising from your seat mechanically.

You walk out of the room in a daze, and Taehyung has to grab your wrist before you walk straight into the glass doors. 

“Hey, are you okay? What happened? Did you get the result you came for?”

His words jolt you back to reality.

No, I didn’t. “Yes, I… got the result I wanted.”

“Then? Why do you look like your dog just died?”

Because I was hoping I was wrong. “Taehyung, I need to go.”

“Wait, where are you going? You don’t look so well, let me give you a lift. Jimin would kill me if anything happened to you on my watch.”

You attempt to ignore the lightheadedness that threatens to consume you at the sound of his name, but you accept Taehyung’s offer gratefully.

“I need to go to Jinwoo’s.”

*

Your heart is pounding incessantly in your ears as you knock on Jinwoo’s front door hesitantly. You’re not sure why your vision is slightly blurry and the lightheaded feeling hasn’t gone away ever since your visit to the soulmate agency, but you have to tell Jinwoo about it. He’ll be so happy that you finally went for a reading, and everything between you will be alright again, if only this damn throbbing in your head would go away- 

The door swings open unexpectedly to reveal Jackson, Jinwoo’s flatmate. His blonde hair is tousled as if he only just woke up, and he’s mid-yawn. Upon seeing you,  he shoots you a look of concern immediately, reaching out to help steady you when you take a few shaky steps forward into the apartment.

“Hey, ______ are you okay?”

You wave his question away. “Is Jinwoo in? I need to talk to him, it’s urgent.”

Jackson runs his fingers through his hair hesitantly. “Uhm yeah sure, he’s upstairs but I’m not sure if-”

“Thanks!” You immediately head for the stairs, not waiting to hear the rest of his statement. You find the door to his room with ease, having been here so many times before, and knock once before pushing open the door.

 “Jinwoo, I went for a reading and-”

It’s like déjà vu, except seeing it a second time doesn’t make it any easier. Jinwoo startles awake, sheets falling to his waist to reveal a bare chest riddled with dark violet marks. Nayeon gives a little whine when Jinwoo displaces her from her position with her head on his chest, and moves to wrap her arms around his waist as he sits up in bed, panic filling his eyes at the sight of you standing in the doorway.

But it’s not the way she presses her breasts into his back, begging him to come back to bed in a breathy voice, or the scattered clothes on the floor, or even the hastily discarded used condom on the foot of the bed that makes it feel as if the entire world has stopped. Your eyes are fixated on that thin, glowing scarlet line that connects Nayeon’s fourth finger to Jinwoo’s, and when you look down at your own fourth finger, the ribbon knot of a red string is clearly visible as well, but instead of resembling the clear connection between the two lovers in bed, yours trails off and fades into the air like the last breath of spring air, the final motes of sunlight before the darkness of night engulfs it.

*

The agency was wrong.

Jinwoo is not my soulmate.

I can see the red string of fate.

The red string glows ominously on your fourth finger, and for a while it’s all that you can see. Even in your dreams, the only thing you can see is the line between Jinwoo and Nayeon, and even though you try to convince yourself that it’s not real, you must have made it up in your delusion, the mocking red glow on your left hand proves you otherwise. After an entire sleepless night, you’ve just about reached your wits end, so you dig out a pair of woollen gloves from the back of your wardrobe and tug them on, even though it’s right in the middle of summer.

You lie awake staring at the ceiling until you pick up the sound of keys at the front door. It can only be Jimin only just getting home after a late dance practice, and you continue to listen as he enters the apartment, dropping his things in his room. An unspeakable urge to see him makes you get out of bed, and when you open the door, you startle to find him just about to knock.

His damp hair is hastily stuffed under a black beanie, and at the sight of you, he withdraws his clenched fist. He folds his arms, looking uncomfortable and you almost sigh in relief when you observe that his usual habit of sweater paws prevents you from the urge to check if you can see his red string of fate too. Realising the silence has stretched on for way too long, he clears his throat.

“Um, I wanted to see if you were awake yet. I got coffee on the way home but the barista messed up my order so I had to get two cups and I wondered if you wanted the other one-” his nervous rambling is adorable, and the way he avoids your gaze by looking down at the floor makes your heart ache. 

“Sure, thanks Chim.” The sound of his nickname sets him at ease, and he gives you a hesitant little smile.

You follow him to the dining area, lingering awkwardly behind him as he hands you your drink. You immediately catch on to his lie, since he got you your go-to drink of hazelnut macchiato, extra shot. But he looks so nervous that you let it go, and instead stare at him for a while, drinking in his presence that warms you up more than any cup of coffee.

“I broke up with him.” You interrupt him mid sip. The abruptness of your statement makes him scald his tongue and he remains silent for a while, soothing the tip of his tongue by running it across his bottom lip. You follow the gesture with your eyes, suddenly distracted by the thought of feeling that tongue against your skin.

“I went for a reading with Taehyung,” you say next, dragging your eyes from his lips to meet his eyes.

“I know. He told me.”

“Wait really? But this literally happened like just yesterday!”

“He has a big mouth, in case you haven’t noticed,” the corners of his mouth curl upwards in a brief smile, and his eyes crinkle into his signature eyesmile that never fails to make your heart feel ten times lighter in response, and a sense of warmth bloom in your chest.

“The agency was wrong. Jinwoo is not my soulmate.” Two out of the three sentences that you’ve been repeating to yourself over and over spill out of your mouth before you can stop it, and you bite your tongue to keep the last one. 

I can see the red string of fate.

“Oh.” He fiddles with the rim of his coffee cup like he always does when he’s nervous, channelling his energy into movement of some sort. The urge to move and dance and make art with his body is something that’s been programmed into him right from birth, and damn if he doesn’t take your breath away every time you see him dance. It’s like he was made to perform, his body light as a feather that drifts effortlessly on the current of the wind, graceful yet full of power at the same time. Every time you attend one of his performances he never fails to amaze you, but he’s always modest and insisting that he has a long way to go. And that’s when you realise that you don’t even have to see the ring finger on his left hand for proof, because you’ve been in love with Park Jimin all along.

“Park Jimin, I’m sorry, and I love you,” the words come out in a rush of exhilaration. 

“Wait, what? Did the agency tell you I’m your soulmate?” He finally brings his eyes to meet yours, and the hope in his eyes burns a warm caramel brown.

“No,” you tell him, and watch as his gaze falls back towards his coffee cup again. “I’ve been in love with you ever since you asked me to move in with you, after that time I got kicked out of my old apartment and took on a part time job backstage at your dance academy. I’ve been in love with you ever since the first time I watched you dance, and every time you come home from dance late but still remember to bring me food. I’ve loved you every time I watched you doubt yourself after a performance, and that time you said you were going to double your practice hours but dropped everything just to pick me up at a party. I’ve been in love with you all this time, and I’m sorry it took me so long to realise it.”

“But… what about the soulmate agency? Taehyung said… he said you got the result you wanted. But if it’s not me then…” 

“I don’t care about the agency,” you say as you close the gap between you and him with a single step. “This is all that matters to me. I trust us more.”

You reach for his hoodie and pull him in, colliding your lips onto his own plush ones. The sweetness of his favourite matcha latte lingers on his tongue, and you feel him hesitate for a second before he kisses you back, and just like that it feels as if a piece of your heart clicks into place. He moans into your mouth, and you relish every single sound from his lips. But he pulls away suddenly.

“______, I need to tell you something.” 

“Unless it’s about how you’ll fuck me till I can’t walk to make up for all this while, I don’t want to hear it,” you latch your lips onto his neck, and feel the way he tenses in surprise.

“Damn, I didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth on you, princess,” he allows his hands to slide under your thighs and lift you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, immediately relishing the contact between your core and his firm abs as you take in his new pet name for you.

He walks you to your room and deposits you gently on the bed, and you immediately spread your legs for him, eliciting a moan from him. Jimin reaches for the waistband of your sleep shorts, pulling them down to your knees. He smirks at the sight of your already damp panties, and takes the time to caress your slit with two fingers” 

“Wet for me already baby? And I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

“Please Jimin,” you buck your hips towards him, desperate for more friction.

“Please what? You’ll have to be more specific,” he teases by blowing gentle puffs of air upon your soaked core, and you whine in frustration.

“I want your tongue. On my clit.” He rewards you by sliding your panties off, discarding them somewhere behind him as he spreads your lips with two fingers. Just when you think he’s going to tease you more, he swipes at your clit with the flat of his tongue, and your hands dive to entangle themselves in his hair.

Jimin alternates between suckling your clit and dipping down toward your slit, and the sight of him between your legs fulfils a fantasy you didn’t even know you had. When he adds two fingers to the mix, you tighten around him immediately.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, I can’t wait to feel you around my cock,” he licks his lips, coated with your arousal as he works magic with his fingers, and you can already start to feel your walls trembling in response.

“Jimin, I’m so close,” you whimper as you thread your fingers through his hair, and he gives you a smirk from between your thighs.

“That’s it baby, cum on my fingers so you’ll be wet enough for my cock.” Such filthy words coming from his sweet innocent mouth should shock you, but at this point you’re too far gone to care any longer. His fingers seek out that rough patch within you and attack it mercilessly, and when he sucks your clit with just the right amount of pressure, it sends you over the edge and you nearly sob.

Jimin continues to thrust his fingers to help you ride out your high, and you allow him a few more moments before pushing his hand away and reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants with your ungloved hand.

“Hey, I meant to ask you, why are you wearing gloves only on one side?”

You frown at him in mock displeasure. “Really? I’m about to grab your dick and all you can ask is why I’m wearing gloves?”

His response is cut off as you palm him through his sweats, and he feels hot and heavy even with the thick material in between.

“If you’re going to be like this, then don’t tease me princess,” Jimin pants.

“Gladly,” you pull down the waistband of his sweats, releasing him from the confines of his underwear as well. The tip of him is an angry red, and already leaking precum. You pump him up and down a few times, relishing the feel of him, hot and silky, thick and hard in your fist. When you dip your head down to give him a few teasing licks, his response is immediate, throwing his head back and exposing the creamy column of his throat while whining in desperation. 

You move to situate your core over him, and he stops you with his hands on your hips.

“Wait, do you need me to use a condom?” Even in his desperation he’s still ever the gentleman, and you smile at him with one hand on his length, rubbing the head against your slit teasingly.

“It’s okay Chim, I’m on the pill.” 

He places his hand over yours and together you guide him into you, and throughout the entire act he never breaks eye contact, and it’s the single most intimate thing you’ve ever done in your life. You finally have to break eye contact and gasp his name as the slow burn stretches you out, but you’re barely down to his base when he whispers some of the filthiest things you’ve ever heard him say.

“Babygirl, you’re so tight, do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for this? Watching you walk around the house in nothing but my white shirts with no bra on, did you want to tease me, hmmm? Answer me,” his whispers send a shock of electricity down your spine.

“What if I did?” 

He only growls in response, and the way his hands span your waist immediately makes you feel both fragile and secure at the same time in his arms, as he gives a harsh thrust upwards. “Fuck, you’re practically dripping for me, did you ever think about my cock inside you? I know I did, especially when you wear those sleep shorts of yours that don’t cover anything at all.”

You can only moan in response as he litters your neck with bruises the shape of his lips, as he guides you to ride him while thrusting into you simultaneously. “Jimin… please…”

“Please what babygirl? What do you want?” His words come out a little harshly against the crook of your neck as he slams into you harder, and the delicious wet sound of his balls slapping against your slit makes you cream all over his length. “Mhmm you’re making such a mess… look at you, dripping all over my cock like this.”

“Jimin please, I’m so close,” you dig your nails into his shoulders, and every time he bottoms out you feel your second climax drawing nearer and nearer.

“I can’t wait to fill you up, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see your pussy overflowing with my cum,” he moans against your neck. “Can I cum inside you? Please say yes baby.”

The desperation in his voice lets you know he’s also close, and you clutch onto his shoulders for dear life as he increases the strength and speed of his thrusts. “Chim, I want your cum so bad, just give it to me.”

Your words are just the right thing to push him off the edge, and he grasps your hips firmly to seal his hips to yours, giving two hard thrusts before he spills his cum inside your walls. The warmth and intensity of his spurts of cum makes you convulse around him as well, and he rides out his orgasm, breathless and panting.

You rest your forehead against his collarbone for a minute, completely out of breath and spent.

“Wow Chim, I didn’t know you were into things like this.”

“Like what?” He pulls you into his chest as he moves to lay his head on your pillow. 

“Like dirty talk. And creampies.” His spent length slips out of you in the process, and some of his cum dribbles out onto your slit. You watch his reaction as he sees his cum on you, and he reaches to cup you with his palm, massaging his cum back into your skin gently and pushing it back inside you. 

“Hopefully you didn’t think it was weird or creepy or anything,” he says, a faint blush staining the apples of his cheeks.

“I’m still here aren’t I? And I think it’s kinda hot too.” You glance back down toward his hand as he continues to play with your cum drenched slit, but that’s when you see it. The red string of fate on his fourth finger. Jimin follows your gaze down to his fingers, and he completely stops short.

Your eyes follow the red line all the way from the knot on his finger, to where the scarlet line leads them up… up to where your gloved hand is currently resting on his chest. The line stops short just outside your covered fourth finger. Before you can reach with a trembling hand to tug off your glove, Jimin beats you to it, and there it is.

An uninterrupted, complete scarlet line of fate that glows faintly in the dim lighting, from your finger to his.

Your eyes fly to his immediately.

“What-”

“I can see it too,” he whispers against your skin.

“Since when? Why didn’t you tell me this?” You interlock your fingers with his, unable to take your eyes off the red string that overlaps in a single unbroken chain as your fingers weave together.

“Ever since I saw you that day backstage. Ever since we met.”

“And you didn’t say anything all this while?” You squeeze his hand in yours tightly. “Park Jimin, you’re an idiot.”

“I know, but I’m your idiot.”

A/N: ahhhhh there r probably a ton of mistakes bc I speed wrote this over like 2 days so please forgive me! also, i’m sorry for the severe lack of updates, uni has been kicking my ass lately, but nevertheless i hope you liked it! please feel free to leave feedback!!! <3

addie

[lisacongo2-blog]

Beyond the Kitchen: For the Love of Reading

It’s time again to temporarily set down the pots and pans and pick up a good book. Don’t worry, I’ll be back to posting food again next week, but I really do like to break it up every now and then with something a bit more intellectually stimulating.

I fell a bit short of my 75-book reading goal in 2018. Maybe I was overly ambitious, having read 84 books in 2017 (not sure what happened there). Still, out of the 56 I did manage to read (I’m a fast reader, what can I say) I definitely encountered some good ones, and finally have enough really good ones to warrant another post.

These are the 6, er, 7 books that wowed me. That moved me. That stole productive hours from my day and kept me reading late into the night. The books that left me desperate for a sequel (sadly, none of them have one). They run the gamut from sentimental young adult to post-apocolyptic to murder mystery to romance. And actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had a more diverse group of books in one of these posts, now that I think about it. While I read all different kinds of books, the one common thread between all of them is a truly engaging story. A book might be beautifully written but if it doesn’t grab me, doesn’t suck me in, it’s not going to end up on my list.

Books keep stupidity at bay. And vain hopes. And vain men. They undress you with love, strength and knowledge. It’s love from within. – The Little Paris Bookshop

If you don’t already, follow me on Goodreads! I try to post ratings/reviews of books as I finish them, although lately I’ve only been rating the really good ones (mainly to refresh my memory when it comes time to write another of these kinds of posts, lol).

(As always, there are some affiliate links in this post, but all opinions are entirely my own).

Once upon a time we were the standard colors of a rainbow, cheery and certain of ourselves. At some point, we all began to stumble into the in-betweens, the murky colors made dark and complicated by resentment and quiet anger. At some point, my mother slid so off track she sank into hues of gray, a world drawn only in shadows. – The Astonishing Color of After

The Astonishing Color of After

I’ll admit, it initially drew me in with the beautiful cover, but the inside is just as stunning. The Astonishing Color of After is the story of a teenage girl whose her late mother returns to her in the form of a beautiful red bird, guiding her to Thailand in search of answers. It tackles the difficult, often taboo issues of mental illness and suicide, race and identity, as well as the deep personal grief in overcoming the loss of a parent. Heartbreaking, poignant, and beautifully written. I definitely recommend this one, but be sure to have a tissue (or two) handy.

The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle

By far, the best book I’ve read in a long time. It felt like I was reading a narrative version of the board game Clue, if Doctor Who had written the rules. Serious props to the author for what is probably the most intricately layered timeline I’ve ever encountered… with more than a few unexpected twists. You’ll be confused. Almost the entire time. And that confusion won’t let up once the book is done either (wait, what? what just happened? hold on). The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle is a book that surely warrants a second read. Also, the writing is fantastic; there were numerous paragraphs and phrases that had me reading them over again out of sheer awe at their brilliance and wit (like the quote below… I mean, what a great way to describe someone who is not so bright, lol).

Working within the confines of Jonathan Derby’s intellect is like stirring croutons into a thick soup. – The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle

The Oracle Year

What would you do with the knowledge of specific events in the future? Would you keep them to yourself? Try to save the world? Sell that knowledge for personal gain? The Oracle Year explores this question, when the main character, Will, wakes up one morning from a dream with 108 predictions about the future.

I really enjoyed this one, despite it being more of a ‘dude’ book than the strongly feminine books I usually read. The plot and premise are so totally unique in a way that’s both outlandish and all too real at the same time.

The Book of M

Another post-apocalyptic novel along the lines of The Passage and Station 11, except the ‘disease’ in this case is less gruesome, but in some ways far more terrifying. I won’t give it all away, but let’s just say The Book of M has one of the most unique concepts for a plague sweeping through humanity that I’ve ever encountered, a disease devastating in more ways than one.

But even if I never say it, it’s still real, because a thing does not have to be said to be real. It just has to be remembered. – The Book of M

The Great Alone

Absolutely wonderful. The Great Alone is tragic and beautiful and vast in its tale of a young family in crisis who move to the Alaskan wilderness to find independence, adventure, and a little of the wildness within themselves. Also, this book reinforced the fact that I have no desire to live in a remote Alaskan town anytime soon, thank you very much!

You know what they say about finding a good man in Alaska—the odds are good, but the goods are odd. – The Great Alone

The Kiss Quotient

Quirky and cute and more than a little bit steamy, The Kiss Quotient is an unconventional love story will leave you feeling all the things. Like a gender-reversed Pretty Woman, with an autistic heroine who is genuine and sincere and nothing but herself 100% of the time. Sure, it’s a bit predictable, but that doesn’t make it any less enjoyable. This would be a perfect follow-up after reading the Great Alone (lol), you know, lighten things up a bit.

The Marriage of Opposites

Set primarily on the tropical island of St. Thomas, The Marriage of Opposites tells the tale about the extraordinary woman who gave birth to painter Camille Pissarro, the Father of Impressionism (and in fact the book itself was so vivid in its depiction of the island that one could even consider it an impressionist masterpiece, painted with words). Based in historical fact but illuminated with fictional fancies and a forbidden love so strong it threatened to rip apart a community, this book is a must read for lovers of art, adventure, and historical fiction.

Perhaps that was what my mother disliked most. I resembled her. I could not help but wonder if for some women, that was the worst sin of all. – The Marriage of Opposites

Other Notable Reads:

Almost 5 stars. Not life-changing, but still definitely worth a read!

The Girl Who Smiled Beads – beautifully written and devastatingly tragic, this is the true story of a girl who escaped the genocide in Rwanda.

The Girl From Everywhere – another girl, this time not quite so heavy (and very much made up). I love magical books like these that create their own world with their own rules: here, the magic involves sailing to other worlds and other times using vintage maps to navigate.

Before We Were Yours – Told from two perspectives that span generations, this is the heartbreaking tale of unimaginable horrors as children are literally stolen from their impoverished parents to be adopted out to wealthy southerners (the fact that it is based on a true story is even more horrifying).

The Neighbors – “That’s not how I expected things to end.” (That’s what I wrote when I finished this book a few months ago, and yet now I can’t seem to remember exactly how it ended and all the reviews online are frustratingly spoiler free). Regardless of my mnemonic lapse, if you like books filled with suspense, secrets and more than a few twists and turns, this one is definitely worth reading (and it appears I have to go read it again).

The Little Paris Bookshop – A light and easy read for fans of books and travel and France. Although I have to admit it was far less about books and Paris than the title would imply. Still, I very much enjoyed this one and its cast of quirky characters (including a scene-stealing cat).

The Book of Essie – The terrifying reality of reality TV, and what happens when a young reality TV star wants out of the spotlight in which she has lived her entire life. Full of secrets, scandal and deception, but also pockets of love, friendship, and sisterhood.

Boxing ourselves into tiny cubbies based on class, race, ethnicity, religion—anything, really—comes from a poverty of mind, a poverty of imagination. The world is dull and cruel when we isolate ourselves. – The Girl Who Smiled Beads

****

So, what should I read next? If you’ve read anything exceptional lately, please share in the comments! I may have 300+ books on my to-read list, but there’s always room for one more. :)

Happy reading!

We are a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for us to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites.

Source: https://www.loveandoliveoil.com/2019/02/beyond-the-kitchen-for-the-love-of-reading.html

[aliensandshitposting-blog]

Sandwich Demons

Prompt: While putting your favorite condiment on sandwich, you accidentally make a magical occult symbol and summon a demon.

Just a prompt that I made a short shit story of (still not finished it. I’m not even sure I will. I’m a mess like that). It’s utter nonsense but hey, what in life isn’t occasionally. 

Lynette sighed as she dropped her jacket and purse on the couch. Her cat glared at her spitefully from his perch in the corner. "Don't look at me like that" Lynette chided, "you're not the only one having it rough." Toeing off her shoes she shuffled to the kitchen to search the fridge, hoping she still had at least one bottle of cider left. "Thank Jesus!" she whimpered. Maybe she could at least get a mild buzz to help ease her headache. Not wanting to drink on an empty stomach she also pulled out the basics for a turkey sandwich. While laying out the food her phone rang, the Pokemon theme song echoing in her small kitchen. "Hey Mel," she answered and was immediately greeted with a tirade from the very angry woman on the other end of the line. "CAN YOU BELIEVE THE NERVE OF THAT MAN!" Melody shrieked in her ear. "He crept up on me in the break room again today and said some of the most vile things imaginable, but OF COURSE HR can't do anything because it's such a 'he-said she-said' case!" "The bigger joke of it all is that since we're not allowed to have our phones with us during the shift, we don't stand a chance at gathering any evidence." Lynette added. Working at a care facility came with its share of rewards, but mostly it was a shitshow. Tucking the phone against her shoulder Lynette began building her sandwich, squeezing mustard on to one piece of bread then layering on lettuce, cheese, and thick deli turkey while venting with her friend about their creep of a manager. "I have to go, my mom is calling, thanks for letting me yell it out." Melody, loud by nature, was at least no longer in danger of frightening small pedestrians. Putting her phone down Lynette sighed again, opening her ale and taking a long drink. Life was not supposed to be such a joke when you're 26 years old, but here she was, wondering who was getting all the laughs. Out of a fit of nostalgia she picked up her second piece of bread and drew a circle with the mustard. Two straight lines for the eyes and a small triangle for the nose, but when she went to add the smile the mustard exploded, a mess of dots and lines scattering across the bread. "Oh, damn!" she finished putting her lunch together and was licking mustard off her thumb when movement in the doorway of her living room made her jump. She choked on the scream in her throat and stumbled against the kitchen island, smacking her knee against the cupboards below and choking on the cuss that followed. "Who the hell are you?" she yelped in equal parts fear and pain. The person who walked in to her kitchen looked human in stature but that was where the similarities ended. The veins in his skin dark and pulsing, marbling the flesh stretched over taught muscles. The angles of his face just slightly too sharp. His large hands ending in what was too similar to claws to be ignored. Green eyes entirely too vibrant for such a dim room. The four horns elegantly curling from the nest of wild black hair on his head are what dropped Lynette's jaw. He wore nothing more than a solid black ring with a large pulsing green stone on his middle finger and there was nothing to keep her eyes from passing over his obscenely exposed genitalia. "I am Carnivale, a Prince of Powers, belonging to the second hierarchy of Lucifer's demons." His voice was deep and cackled like lightening over her skin. "You summoned me." Lynette stood frozen, heart pounding, mind racing to try and pinpoint whEN SHE SUMMONED A MOTHERFUCKING DEMON. "I-you-I-have no idea..." she stammered. This wasn't happening. She was obviously insane. Somewhere in the ten minutes since she'd been home she had obviously somehow suffered some type of immense trauma to the head. The demon continued to stand on the opposite side of the island, staring at her, unpreturbed by her inner turmoil. Her eyes flew to the sandwich, sitting innocently on it's gray china plate on the counter. It wasn't possible. There was no way she had accidently summoned a demon using MUSTARD. But what now? If it were even possible, she had summoned a demon. From hell. He'd come all the way from hell because of explosive condiments. It seemed so impolite to just...send him back with nothing to show for it because she wanted turkey on multi-grain for lunch. Straightening her spine and shaking the last vestiges of pain from her leg, she looked Carnivale the Demon in the eyes and, trying not to completely lose her shit, smiled and asked "would you like a sandwich?" The surprise she felt at having a demon appear in her kitchen seemed minimal compared to the shock that registered on his face upon being offered something to eat. Lynette gestured toward the small two person table in the corner as she turned to grab another plate. It only took a minute to construct another sandwich (thankfully sans summoning circle this time) and by then Carnivale had taken a tenative seat at the table. He looked equal parts annoyed, intrigued, and confused as she put a plate down in front of him. "So, ah, funny story?" Lynette fumbled with her words, picking at a piece of lettuce poking from between the bread. "Uh, you see, it would appear that I summoned you...accidentally?" she dared to peek up at him and watched as he nonchalantly picked his sandwich up and took a bite. He chewed slowly and thoughtfully, seemingly pleased with the meal she had offered him. He took two more bites, glowing eyes burning in to her the whole time. "Do you mean to tell me, small mortal, that you did not intend to bring me here and strike a bargain?" "Ah, well, yes." Lynette squeaked as she took a bite of her own sandwich, savoring the taste of tangy stone ground mustard and thick deli turkey. From the look on his face it was entirely possible this might be her last meal. "I mean," she sputtered "no? I did not bring you here. I mean, I did, but like I said it was an accident. I'm honestly not even sure how it happened truth be told-" Carnivale continued to eat while she rambled. Humans could be so amusing when put on the spot and made to feel uneasy. Plus the sandwich was rather delicious. "-and I think I was still worked up after talking to Melody about this creep at work and the mustard sort of, like, exploded and that's probably what did it?" Lynette had panic-eaten during her explanation and was left with a pile of crust in front of her. She felt a pang of self disgust realizing that she'd been talking with her mouth full. Carnivale finished the last bite between his fingers and stood, pushing his chair back in place. Lynette watched him uneasily. "Thanks for the sandwich." He turned and made it halfway across the kitchen before Lynette was able to pick her jaw up. "That's it?!" she sputtered in disbelief. She was so convinced that there was about to be hellfire and eternal damnation on lined up for her soul. "It was very good?" Carnivale turned his head and crooked an eyebrow at her. "No, I mean, you're just going to leave? There's no punishment for a summons with no purpose-?" he cut her off with a wicked grin curving his angled features. "Do you want me to punish you?" "No!" Lynette shrieked, face flaming. "Believe it or not we don't go around throwing around unwarranted suffering for those who haven't done anything wrong." His demeanor was far more casual than when he'd arrived and his speech less formal. "You offered me something for my time, I liked it, we'll leave it at that." "You guys don't worry about people like, spouting off about what they've seen?" She almost slapped herself. Was she TRYING to get herself in trouble? "First of all, no one would believe you." Carnivale gestured with his hand and the air around him shimmered. "Second of all, even if you tried to communicate to someone what you had seen, you'll find that you're completely unable to." Just before he vanished he turned and waved in farewell. Lynette couldn't be bothered to clean up the kitchen. She dragged herself to her room in a state of shock and collapsed in bed, rolling up in her blanket and wondering at what point she should just call herself insane.

The next day Lynette walked in to work utterly exhausted. She'd been completely unable to sleep the night before, her mind turning the events of the day over and over again. She'd done a quick Google search before leaving her house but the information on 'Carnivale' was frustratingly little. He tempted men in to obscenity, which explained his nudity, and was opposed by John the Evangelist. That was it. Halfway through her shift she stepped in to the foyer of her building to go get lunch and walked in to the middle of a different kind of hell. Eric, the creep of a manager who was always whispering vile things to his female staff and the master of making obscene gestures in hidden areas, was sitting on the commons couch. Ordinarily that wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary. However on this particular afternoon he was sitting on the couch with a blank look on his face, pants open while he pleasured himself. Melody stood at the opposite end of the room, eyes wide and hands clasped tightly over her mouth. Several other employees stood silently in shock as well; nobody seemed quite sure how to handle the situation. However what made Lynette's jaw hit the floor wasn't Eric, it was the fact that she could see clear as day Carnivale, standing behind the couch bent over whispering in Eric's ear. It took a male nurse, the only person brave enough to approach Eric in his trance-like state, slapping the manager rather roughly upside the head to bring the exposed man back around. Carnivale, seemingly unseen by everyone else in the room, straightened with a satisfied smirk on his face. Lynette made a choking noise. Apparently that was the only coherent sound she was capable of making in his presence. Grinning widly the demon inclined his head in her direction before disappearing with a wave of his hand. Melody rushed across the room to grab Lynette by the arm. As the male orderly, a giant of a man at 6'5", escorted Eric from the building Melody burst like a damn. "Did you see that? Can you believe it? He just-he started talking about all the things he 'wanted to do to me' and then just-holy shit!" her eyes were wild and her face flushed with anger and embarassment. Lynette wanted to interrupt. She wanted to demand if anyone else had seen the huge naked demon in the room but she couldn't. Each time she tried her tongue stuck to her teeth like her mouth was full of taffy. Try as she might she could not make her mouth articulate the loud jumble of thoughts in her mind. So THAT'S what he meant when he said she wouldn't be able to tell anyone about what she'd seen.

The rest of Lynette's day was completely uneventful, by comparison. By the time she made it to her car she was ready to lie across the back seat and sleep for days. Her brain had spun circles trying to make sense of the last 24 hours and she felt completely exhausted. When she got home she had every intention of going straight to bed and not moving for the next two days but those plans were derailed at the sight of light in her kitchen.

[guitarboard42-blog]

Beyond the Kitchen: For the Love of Reading

It’s time again to temporarily set down the pots and pans and pick up a good book. Don’t worry, I’ll be back to posting food again next week, but I really do like to break it up every now and then with something a bit more intellectually stimulating.

I fell a bit short of my 75-book reading goal in 2018. Maybe I was overly ambitious, having read 84 books in 2017 (not sure what happened there). Still, out of the 56 I did manage to read (I’m a fast reader, what can I say) I definitely encountered some good ones, and finally have enough really good ones to warrant another post.

These are the 6, er, 7 books that wowed me. That moved me. That stole productive hours from my day and kept me reading late into the night. The books that left me desperate for a sequel (sadly, none of them have one). They run the gamut from sentimental young adult to post-apocolyptic to murder mystery to romance. And actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had a more diverse group of books in one of these posts, now that I think about it. While I read all different kinds of books, the one common thread between all of them is a truly engaging story. A book might be beautifully written but if it doesn’t grab me, doesn’t suck me in, it’s not going to end up on my list.

Books keep stupidity at bay. And vain hopes. And vain men. They undress you with love, strength and knowledge. It’s love from within. – The Little Paris Bookshop

If you don’t already, follow me on Goodreads! I try to post ratings/reviews of books as I finish them, although lately I’ve only been rating the really good ones (mainly to refresh my memory when it comes time to write another of these kinds of posts, lol).

(As always, there are some affiliate links in this post, but all opinions are entirely my own).

Once upon a time we were the standard colors of a rainbow, cheery and certain of ourselves. At some point, we all began to stumble into the in-betweens, the murky colors made dark and complicated by resentment and quiet anger. At some point, my mother slid so off track she sank into hues of gray, a world drawn only in shadows. – The Astonishing Color of After

The Astonishing Color of After

I’ll admit, it initially drew me in with the beautiful cover, but the inside is just as stunning. The Astonishing Color of After is the story of a teenage girl whose her late mother returns to her in the form of a beautiful red bird, guiding her to Thailand in search of answers. It tackles the difficult, often taboo issues of mental illness and suicide, race and identity, as well as the deep personal grief in overcoming the loss of a parent. Heartbreaking, poignant, and beautifully written. I definitely recommend this one, but be sure to have a tissue (or two) handy.

The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle

By far, the best book I’ve read in a long time. It felt like I was reading a narrative version of the board game Clue, if Doctor Who had written the rules. Serious props to the author for what is probably the most intricately layered timeline I’ve ever encountered… with more than a few unexpected twists. You’ll be confused. Almost the entire time. And that confusion won’t let up once the book is done either (wait, what? what just happened? hold on). The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle is a book that surely warrants a second read. Also, the writing is fantastic; there were numerous paragraphs and phrases that had me reading them over again out of sheer awe at their brilliance and wit (like the quote below… I mean, what a great way to describe someone who is not so bright, lol).

Working within the confines of Jonathan Derby’s intellect is like stirring croutons into a thick soup. – The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle

The Oracle Year

What would you do with the knowledge of specific events in the future? Would you keep them to yourself? Try to save the world? Sell that knowledge for personal gain? The Oracle Year explores this question, when the main character, Will, wakes up one morning from a dream with 108 predictions about the future.

I really enjoyed this one, despite it being more of a ‘dude’ book than the strongly feminine books I usually read. The plot and premise are so totally unique in a way that’s both outlandish and all too real at the same time.

The Book of M

Another post-apocalyptic novel along the lines of The Passage and Station 11, except the ‘disease’ in this case is less gruesome, but in some ways far more terrifying. I won’t give it all away, but let’s just say The Book of M has one of the most unique concepts for a plague sweeping through humanity that I’ve ever encountered, a disease devastating in more ways than one.

But even if I never say it, it’s still real, because a thing does not have to be said to be real. It just has to be remembered. – The Book of M

The Great Alone

Absolutely wonderful. The Great Alone is tragic and beautiful and vast in its tale of a young family in crisis who move to the Alaskan wilderness to find independence, adventure, and a little of the wildness within themselves. Also, this book reinforced the fact that I have no desire to live in a remote Alaskan town anytime soon, thank you very much!

You know what they say about finding a good man in Alaska—the odds are good, but the goods are odd. – The Great Alone

The Kiss Quotient

Quirky and cute and more than a little bit steamy, The Kiss Quotient is an unconventional love story will leave you feeling all the things. Like a gender-reversed Pretty Woman, with an autistic heroine who is genuine and sincere and nothing but herself 100% of the time. Sure, it’s a bit predictable, but that doesn’t make it any less enjoyable. This would be a perfect follow-up after reading the Great Alone (lol), you know, lighten things up a bit.

The Marriage of Opposites

Set primarily on the tropical island of St. Thomas, The Marriage of Opposites tells the tale about the extraordinary woman who gave birth to painter Camille Pissarro, the Father of Impressionism (and in fact the book itself was so vivid in its depiction of the island that one could even consider it an impressionist masterpiece, painted with words). Based in historical fact but illuminated with fictional fancies and a forbidden love so strong it threatened to rip apart a community, this book is a must read for lovers of art, adventure, and historical fiction.

Perhaps that was what my mother disliked most. I resembled her. I could not help but wonder if for some women, that was the worst sin of all. – The Marriage of Opposites

Other Notable Reads:

Almost 5 stars. Not life-changing, but still definitely worth a read!

The Girl Who Smiled Beads – beautifully written and devastatingly tragic, this is the true story of a girl who escaped the genocide in Rwanda.

The Girl From Everywhere – another girl, this time not quite so heavy (and very much made up). I love magical books like these that create their own world with their own rules: here, the magic involves sailing to other worlds and other times using vintage maps to navigate.

Before We Were Yours – Told from two perspectives that span generations, this is the heartbreaking tale of unimaginable horrors as children are literally stolen from their impoverished parents to be adopted out to wealthy southerners (the fact that it is based on a true story is even more horrifying).

The Neighbors – “That’s not how I expected things to end.” (That’s what I wrote when I finished this book a few months ago, and yet now I can’t seem to remember exactly how it ended and all the reviews online are frustratingly spoiler free). Regardless of my mnemonic lapse, if you like books filled with suspense, secrets and more than a few twists and turns, this one is definitely worth reading (and it appears I have to go read it again).

The Little Paris Bookshop – A light and easy read for fans of books and travel and France. Although I have to admit it was far less about books and Paris than the title would imply. Still, I very much enjoyed this one and its cast of quirky characters (including a scene-stealing cat).

The Book of Essie – The terrifying reality of reality TV, and what happens when a young reality TV star wants out of the spotlight in which she has lived her entire life. Full of secrets, scandal and deception, but also pockets of love, friendship, and sisterhood.

Boxing ourselves into tiny cubbies based on class, race, ethnicity, religion—anything, really—comes from a poverty of mind, a poverty of imagination. The world is dull and cruel when we isolate ourselves. – The Girl Who Smiled Beads

****

So, what should I read next? If you’ve read anything exceptional lately, please share in the comments! I may have 300+ books on my to-read list, but there’s always room for one more. :)

Happy reading!

We are a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for us to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites.

Source: https://www.loveandoliveoil.com/2019/02/beyond-the-kitchen-for-the-love-of-reading.html

[ideahood58-blog]

Beyond the Kitchen: For the Love of Reading

It’s time again to temporarily set down the pots and pans and pick up a good book. Don’t worry, I’ll be back to posting food again next week, but I really do like to break it up every now and then with something a bit more intellectually stimulating.

I fell a bit short of my 75-book reading goal in 2018. Maybe I was overly ambitious, having read 84 books in 2017 (not sure what happened there). Still, out of the 56 I did manage to read (I’m a fast reader, what can I say) I definitely encountered some good ones, and finally have enough really good ones to warrant another post.

These are the 6, er, 7 books that wowed me. That moved me. That stole productive hours from my day and kept me reading late into the night. The books that left me desperate for a sequel (sadly, none of them have one). They run the gamut from sentimental young adult to post-apocolyptic to murder mystery to romance. And actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had a more diverse group of books in one of these posts, now that I think about it. While I read all different kinds of books, the one common thread between all of them is a truly engaging story. A book might be beautifully written but if it doesn’t grab me, doesn’t suck me in, it’s not going to end up on my list.

Books keep stupidity at bay. And vain hopes. And vain men. They undress you with love, strength and knowledge. It’s love from within. – The Little Paris Bookshop

If you don’t already, follow me on Goodreads! I try to post ratings/reviews of books as I finish them, although lately I’ve only been rating the really good ones (mainly to refresh my memory when it comes time to write another of these kinds of posts, lol).

(As always, there are some affiliate links in this post, but all opinions are entirely my own).

Once upon a time we were the standard colors of a rainbow, cheery and certain of ourselves. At some point, we all began to stumble into the in-betweens, the murky colors made dark and complicated by resentment and quiet anger. At some point, my mother slid so off track she sank into hues of gray, a world drawn only in shadows. – The Astonishing Color of After

The Astonishing Color of After

I’ll admit, it initially drew me in with the beautiful cover, but the inside is just as stunning. The Astonishing Color of After is the story of a teenage girl whose her late mother returns to her in the form of a beautiful red bird, guiding her to Thailand in search of answers. It tackles the difficult, often taboo issues of mental illness and suicide, race and identity, as well as the deep personal grief in overcoming the loss of a parent. Heartbreaking, poignant, and beautifully written. I definitely recommend this one, but be sure to have a tissue (or two) handy.

The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle

By far, the best book I’ve read in a long time. It felt like I was reading a narrative version of the board game Clue, if Doctor Who had written the rules. Serious props to the author for what is probably the most intricately layered timeline I’ve ever encountered… with more than a few unexpected twists. You’ll be confused. Almost the entire time. And that confusion won’t let up once the book is done either (wait, what? what just happened? hold on). The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle is a book that surely warrants a second read. Also, the writing is fantastic; there were numerous paragraphs and phrases that had me reading them over again out of sheer awe at their brilliance and wit (like the quote below… I mean, what a great way to describe someone who is not so bright, lol).

Working within the confines of Jonathan Derby’s intellect is like stirring croutons into a thick soup. – The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle

The Oracle Year

What would you do with the knowledge of specific events in the future? Would you keep them to yourself? Try to save the world? Sell that knowledge for personal gain? The Oracle Year explores this question, when the main character, Will, wakes up one morning from a dream with 108 predictions about the future.

I really enjoyed this one, despite it being more of a ‘dude’ book than the strongly feminine books I usually read. The plot and premise are so totally unique in a way that’s both outlandish and all too real at the same time.

The Book of M

Another post-apocalyptic novel along the lines of The Passage and Station 11, except the ‘disease’ in this case is less gruesome, but in some ways far more terrifying. I won’t give it all away, but let’s just say The Book of M has one of the most unique concepts for a plague sweeping through humanity that I’ve ever encountered, a disease devastating in more ways than one.

But even if I never say it, it’s still real, because a thing does not have to be said to be real. It just has to be remembered. – The Book of M

The Great Alone

Absolutely wonderful. The Great Alone is tragic and beautiful and vast in its tale of a young family in crisis who move to the Alaskan wilderness to find independence, adventure, and a little of the wildness within themselves. Also, this book reinforced the fact that I have no desire to live in a remote Alaskan town anytime soon, thank you very much!

You know what they say about finding a good man in Alaska—the odds are good, but the goods are odd. – The Great Alone

The Kiss Quotient

Quirky and cute and more than a little bit steamy, The Kiss Quotient is an unconventional love story will leave you feeling all the things. Like a gender-reversed Pretty Woman, with an autistic heroine who is genuine and sincere and nothing but herself 100% of the time. Sure, it’s a bit predictable, but that doesn’t make it any less enjoyable. This would be a perfect follow-up after reading the Great Alone (lol), you know, lighten things up a bit.

The Marriage of Opposites

Set primarily on the tropical island of St. Thomas, The Marriage of Opposites tells the tale about the extraordinary woman who gave birth to painter Camille Pissarro, the Father of Impressionism (and in fact the book itself was so vivid in its depiction of the island that one could even consider it an impressionist masterpiece, painted with words). Based in historical fact but illuminated with fictional fancies and a forbidden love so strong it threatened to rip apart a community, this book is a must read for lovers of art, adventure, and historical fiction.

Perhaps that was what my mother disliked most. I resembled her. I could not help but wonder if for some women, that was the worst sin of all. – The Marriage of Opposites

Other Notable Reads:

Almost 5 stars. Not life-changing, but still definitely worth a read!

The Girl Who Smiled Beads – beautifully written and devastatingly tragic, this is the true story of a girl who escaped the genocide in Rwanda.

The Girl From Everywhere – another girl, this time not quite so heavy (and very much made up). I love magical books like these that create their own world with their own rules: here, the magic involves sailing to other worlds and other times using vintage maps to navigate.

Before We Were Yours – Told from two perspectives that span generations, this is the heartbreaking tale of unimaginable horrors as children are literally stolen from their impoverished parents to be adopted out to wealthy southerners (the fact that it is based on a true story is even more horrifying).

The Neighbors – “That’s not how I expected things to end.” (That’s what I wrote when I finished this book a few months ago, and yet now I can’t seem to remember exactly how it ended and all the reviews online are frustratingly spoiler free). Regardless of my mnemonic lapse, if you like books filled with suspense, secrets and more than a few twists and turns, this one is definitely worth reading (and it appears I have to go read it again).

The Little Paris Bookshop – A light and easy read for fans of books and travel and France. Although I have to admit it was far less about books and Paris than the title would imply. Still, I very much enjoyed this one and its cast of quirky characters (including a scene-stealing cat).

The Book of Essie – The terrifying reality of reality TV, and what happens when a young reality TV star wants out of the spotlight in which she has lived her entire life. Full of secrets, scandal and deception, but also pockets of love, friendship, and sisterhood.

Boxing ourselves into tiny cubbies based on class, race, ethnicity, religion—anything, really—comes from a poverty of mind, a poverty of imagination. The world is dull and cruel when we isolate ourselves. – The Girl Who Smiled Beads

****

So, what should I read next? If you’ve read anything exceptional lately, please share in the comments! I may have 300+ books on my to-read list, but there’s always room for one more. :)

Happy reading!

We are a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for us to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites.

Source: https://www.loveandoliveoil.com/2019/02/beyond-the-kitchen-for-the-love-of-reading.html

[skeletonbuddycos]

Building Pyrrha’s sword: Miló

so when i first started planning out this costume at the beginning of the year, i jokingly told my friend she could make me a sword to go with it...........& then she actually did it. yay for friends who encourage each other to take on ambitious builds! you can find thea at her website & on twitter

Creating a replica of Pyrrha’s sword was quite a challenge. As this is the first real prop that I’ve designed and built from scratch, I had to learn a lot of techniques and skills to pull off something convincing. This post attempts to document the build process, tools, and techniques used to create this prop.

Part one: research & references

My first step was to figure out what this sword looks like and how I wanted to bring it to life. I had to get a sense of the size, shape, and colors used and how I would map those into the real world. This requires research and collecting references. It’s important to gather references that show multiple angles so you get a sense for all three dimensions. It’s also useful to get references from multiple sources because it might show the item in a different style which sometimes makes it easier to decide how the item should look in real life.

The easiest and most obvious set of references are just using screenshots from the show, like these:

(Source: Rooster Teeth)

RWBY in particular is a great resource for references. The show is 3D animated, so the items generally have plausible construction and proportions.

While researching I also found that the late Monty Oum provided clean references for all the RWBY characters on his Facebook:

(Source: Monty Oum)

The references so far are probably enough to start building, but I didn’t think that the colors used in the show would translate well into real life. After all, RWBY intentionally uses a simplified art style with bold color and sharp lines. So this is where I started looking for “non-canonical” references - fan art and other cosplays.

In some fan art, Pyrrha is rendered more in gold than yellow and the crimson is lightened up a bit:

(Source: Infinote on DeviantArt)

Sheena Duquette did an excellent 3D-printed version of Milo that used a significant amount of gold:

(Source: Soulfire Photography)

With these references in mind I could start designing and prototyping.

Part two: designing & prototyping

Now that I have some idea of what I want it to look like, I needed to design it and figure out how I want to build it. My design is very influenced by the tools available to me. I live in an apartment, I don’t have access to significant woodworking equipment, but I do have access to a small makerspace at work with a laser cutter and 3D printer. How you design and build a prop is so incredibly dependent on what tools and skills you have access to. If I had access to proper woodworking equipment like a CNC router, this would have been a significantly different build.

I designed this prop to build constructed out of layers of laser cut wood with a few 3D-printed embellishments. 

Since I’m designing this for laser cutting, I designed everything in vector layers using Affinity Designer (I’ve seen other people use Illustrator or even InkScape). The first thing I did was use the references to create a rough outline of the sword and laser-cut a prototype to test the size:

(Rough outline in Affinity)

(Laser-cut size test out of cheap plywood) 

I could have actually just used paper for the size test, but I was still learning the ins and outs of using the laser cutter and this was a good way for me to get used to the materials and processes involved. I decided after this that the sword was too big so I scaled everything down by 15% and cut a new size test - it seemed perfect to me at that point.

The next step was to start designing all of the layers and embellishments on those layers. I designed most of the layers initially with the material that was readily available to me at the makerspace: cheap 2.8mm plywood. You can see the layer vectors as different colors here:

(Layers in Affinity)

Due to the size limitations of the laser cutter and material size, I actually designed some of the layers to be cut in separate pieces. These pieces fit together like puzzle pieces:

(One layer with multiple parts in Affinity)

While designing the layers I printed several prototypes and dry fit them and improved the design. I went through about eight or so iterations before I felt comfortable with the design enough to do the final build.

(Dry fit of a prototype)

During this time I also designed a way for the sword’s blade to be removable to help with transportation. I didn’t get any pictures of this during the prototype, but there’s an explanation of it in the build section.

Once I felt comfortable with the prototype, I glued it all together to get a feel for what the final build would look and feel like.

(The final prototype assembled)

Note that I didn’t design or prototype any of the 3D parts at this stage. Since they’re all part of the “back” of the sword they could be just attached on later. I also wanted to get the final assembled laser cut parts so that I could accurately measure the dimensions of the real object to better design the 3D part.

Step three: building

Now it’s time to build this thing. During the prototypes, I decided that the cheap plywood wasn’t going to be acceptable for the final product. I decided to use 1/8" and 1/16” maple stock (from Inventables) for the final build. I used the 30W Epilog Zing 16 laser in the makerspace to cut and engrave all of the pieces out of the stock.

(Laser-cut and engraved parts)

During this time I also had to figure out how to do the gold design in the middle of the sword. I wasn’t content with just stenciling in a flat design, so I decided I wanted to engrave and color fill it. It took me ages to figure out an incredibly simple and low-tech solution to this. First, I painted some stock red and covered it in masking tape:

(Red-painted maple stock)

Then, I engraved through the masking tape, paint, and stock. I did this in multiple passes with low power to avoid burning the wood and tape:

(laser cutter engraving the design on the stock)

(The engraved and masked pieces)

Now that I essentially engraved a paint mask, I used gold spray paint to do the color fill:

(gold-painted parts)

Then, I carefully peeled off the masking tape:

(Masking tape in process of being removed)

And then I had two beautiful color-filled parts:

(The finished part, finally!)

With all the laser-cut parts ready, I did a dry-fit of everything to make sure it all worked:

(Dry-fit: looking good!)

Now the fun part: wood-gluing everything together:

(Making good use of the hundreds of clamps I bought for this)

It felt really great to hold this in my hands once it was completely glued:

(Assembled!)

The last part of this step of the build was to finish the blade removal mechanism.

(Blade locking mechanism and cover)

There’s a circle in the center under one of the emblems that works as a lock that's screwed into place. This locks the central blade, and the central blade in turn locks the main blade. The emblem is removable and is held in place using a couple of magnets (which I did number incorrectly, whoops). Fun story, when I first placed in the magnets I had the acrylic middle blade in place as you see here. I accidentally drilled into the acrylic and partially glued the magnets to the acrylic. That was a huge pain to fix- it involved a putty knife and lots of swearing.

Step four: 3D printing 

Now that I had the finalized laser-cut parts all assembled and ready to go, it was time to create the 3d-printed embellishments.

The first thing I printed was the parts that comprised the barrel. I designed these using OpenSCAD and some simple formulas.

(Middle barrel part in OpenSCAD) 

I printed them in PLA on my adorable but powerful Lulzbot Mini. I then glued to the main prop using tacky glue and then blended them in with wood filler and some super-glue.

(Barrel piece glued onto the prop) 

Now for the most difficult part: the barrel cover. I am by no means a 3D artist - I barely know how to use 3D software at all. However, I did use some CAD software in high school, so I’m practically an expert, right? I used Affinity to draw the outline of the barrel cover then used Fusion 360 to model it into the part. I used measurements directly from the real prop to make sure this was designed to fit exactly.

(The basic barrel cover shape in Fusion 360)

I printed this basic shape to make sure it fit and then started to figure out how to do the engravings on this part. This was actually the most frustrating part for me. Fusion 360 kept freezing and crashing which was extremely frustrating. I’m not sure if my Macbook is just too wimpy to handle serious CAD work, but it was baffling to me that such a seemingly simple part was causing Fusion 360 so much trouble. Eventually, I found a hint online about disabling build history which allowed me to actually finish the part and all of the engravings without ripping my hair out and throwing my computer across the room.

(The final design in Fusion 360, sliced up into three parts so it’ll fit on my Lulzbot Mini)

With the design complete, I printed it. My Lulzbot churned out the three parts over two days and it came out fantastic:

(It’s BEAUTIFUL)

With all that done, all I needed was the little barrel poking out at the end. I whipped that up in OpenSCAD.

(Barrel and trigger glued in place)

Step five: painting

With the prop assembled, I spent a few days sanding and filling various parts to prepare it for painting. Because of limited space, I choose to use spray paint for this and paint at a friend’s house. I used Krylon ColorMaster spray paints. I painted the whole thing with a gray primer, then painted the gold sections, then masked and painted in the red sections. I finished the whole thing with a pass of clear coat.

(It’s painted!)

While the 3D design was the most frustrating, the outcome of the painting was the most disappointing to me. While I think the paint job is okay, I think I can do much much better. I felt rushed because I was borrowing another person’s space (despite them being wonderful and accommodating) and it was hot outside (I had a nasty sunburn from doing this). I was also really disappointed in how little control I felt I had over the spray paint. In the future I want to use an airbrush, but I don’t presently have the space for it.

Final thoughts

This was an incredibly ambitious item to try to build as my first prop. I’m honestly really proud of the outcome and I can’t wait to build my next prop. I learned so much about laser cutting and a little bit about 3D printing. I learned that I suck at painting. I learned that it’s critical to understand your tools and skills while designing your prop. I learned that I really wanna get access to proper woodworking and painting equipment. Hopefully someone else finds this build log useful- good luck!

[multi-fandomtrashtm]

Gruvia and how to fix it

WARNING!! TAKE THIS POST WITH A SPOON FULL OF SALT BECAUSE SEEING FLAWS IN YOUR OTP DOES STING LIKE HELL.

Okay, as you all should know, Gruvia is my former OTP die hard ship. In recent months, I’ve realized that it’s not that great after all. I realized that the gruvia I love is not the one in Fairy Tail, but rather the one depicted in fanfics and fanart. I realized that the ship in canon is extremely one sided, damages 1/2 of the characters involved and is very forced.  A part of me will probably take this ship to the grave since I still can’t keep a straight face whenever they have a moment.

See, about 80% of Juvia’s current character is developed to gruvia or Gray in general which is not good for such a major character. Levy can get by with being attached to Gajeel because she’s not a major character, but not Juvia. AND practically all of the ship seems to favor her and only her in story. There isn’t any indication that Gray is getting anything from their close companionship besides discomfort in story for a long while. All of that equals a forced ship.

Before you read further, keep in mind that I’m not trying to bash gruvia or its supporters. I’m bashing Mashima’s writing and stating what I think would have made the progression of this ship smoother. In no way is this trying to disregard what happened in canon, I already know its too late to change anything. 

Now about how to improve it.

Give Juvia back her personality, relationships and character from Fantasia and Tower of Heaven arc. Have her function without Gray being in the equation somewhere. Show her having close relationships besides Gray, so that her crush on him is more of a character quirk rather than most of her character. (I would say that she has Meredy, but they get so little screen time together I don’t even know what their relationship is. ESPECIALLY Meredy because Mashima dedicated like 150 pages to jerza but couldn’t have more than 2 panels of Meredy and Juvia interacting??? Ditto for Gajeel. This is an element of Mashima’s poor writing style, unfortunately. It’s like how Lucy and Levy are supposedly best friends but almost never talk.) In turn, this will scale back the creep factor that’s ever present in this ship and will balance it out with character weight. You know when she was all shy and embarrassed to give him that lunch she made for him? That was the perfect balance. 

Scale down the obsessiveness and have it develop more like a relationship upgrade rather than Gray just giving up and settling because Juvia won’t leave him alone. If it’s supposed to be that Gray is slowly warming up to Juvia, then show it. Have him go from a blunt “no thanks, not interested” to a more tsundere attitude. Him bluntly telling her no then her persisting anyway is just her not having enough respect to listen to his opinions despite being in love which makes her affection seem a whole lot more shallow and ,surprise, one sided.

Go into detail about the relationship. Have them reflect on how the other person has helped them. Here, I’ll even give an example on the fly; Juvia loves and appreciates Gray for being her prince charming for taking her rain away because it made her depressed and isolated for the rest of her life. Gray appreciates Juvia because he knows she’s one of the people he can fall back on, she can lighten his mood when his thoughts get too morbid or he’s going through a tough time and generally makes him more cheerful/quirky. Seeing as Mashima has put so much effort into the ball of sexual tension and angst that is Jerza, he’s clearly capable of developing these things for relationships. He just...doesn’t for his other pairings.

Just let them talk. Have Juvia chill out for like 5 minutes and genuinely listen to what Gray thinks of her and her tendencies. And have Juvia explain exactly why she’s so devoted to Gray and how much it means to her. Because he has no idea what her thought process is and to him she’s just been this creepy stalker who won’t leave him alone and “loves” him. If she would do this, then that would explain why he could grow more receptive towards her affection.

When she starts getting close to him (say, Tenrou), have Juvia calm down with her obsession. Seriously. Tone it down from “obsessive and unable to function without him in her life” to “clingy” .

Honestly, Juvia’s character is like 75% of the problem with this ship. She’s like Sakura Haruno gone horribly wrong. Yes, Sakura chased Sasuke to the ends of the Earth despite him literally trying to kill her, but at least she 1) grew out of the puppy love stage and eventually genuinely wanted to save him from himself like Naruto and it showed 2) Had her own personality and relationships and was able to function without him there 3) Made an effort to search for him when he went missing //cough cough did it ever occur to her to go to sabertooth and ask for help? or to look for any of her former FT guildmates at all to help her?? like, a group manhunt is the next logical step up from looking by yourself, cmon-

I mean, she’s not even a yandere. At least yanderes are known for the badass and crazy lengths they go to for their love. At least yanderes has psychological layers and depth that many authors explore. Yet she’s not the love sick puppy character either. I wish she was one or the other instead of being stuck in this barely thicker than cardboard state.

Gruvia just seems to be an unfortunate victim of bad writing of all things. I’m not sure if there are major ft ships that are safe from this tho. 

EDIT: OK, so it seems that my passiveness for Levy has been taken the wrong way. And yikes this post has blown up. 

If you must know, no I don’t support the way Levy’s character has gone because of Gajevy. As opposed to Juvia who’s character seemed to become more revolved around her ship, Levy just kinda...slowly merges her existence with her ship. This problem is just a product of Mashima’s bad writing more than anything else tbh. It’s like...she keeps her personality and all that but now all of her major appearances come with Gajeel like they’re a pair set? I also noticed the strange, unintentional implication that she seems to be actively rejecting her own team in favor of Gajeel? (Why didn’t she go with them during the one year timeskip? They just had 7 years apart too?? And how much screentime does she spent with them vs with Gajeel?) The whole thing is really weird, especially since all the ship tease for gajevy came way before the fact that their first meeting was Gajeel kicking her ass and pinning her to a tree(?) was addressed. I like that it was addressed, but it really should have been so WAY earlier. That said, I don’t have many fucks to give about Levy, so other than those obvious faults, I don’t really care. 

Also, I don’t think this is anti gruvia...? I’m not hating on it or anything? It’s more like constructive criticism which DOES NOT equal hate. 

[wth-is-anime]

Forehead Kisses- A Bixanna Fic

"But we've been planning this double date for months!" Evergreen exclaimed.

"Well we can't leave Bickslow alone while he's sick like this." Laxus replied. "I don't want to cancel either but we don't have a choice."

Evergreen huffed. "If only Freed hadn't went on that solo mission this morning, than he could have taken care of Bickslow for us."

"Is something wrong?" Elfman asked as he walked over to his girl, throwing his arm over her shoulders. He had been forced into a suit by his sisters, but looking at Ever's long elegant dress, his suit matched her outfit perfectly.

"Bickslow is sick, so Laxus wants us to cancel our double date." Evergreen answered.

"We can reschedule." Laxus shrugged. "It shouldn't be a problem."

"Actually, that will be a problem, we made reservations, they're booked for months, that's why it took us so long to get in." Evergreen folded her arms, annoyed Laxus didn't understand that tonight was suppose to be special for all of them.

Elfman butted in before Ever could get more angry. "Bickslow should just be a man and stay home by himself."

"I agree. But Bickslow has a fever and I'm afraid he won't listen to us and will try to get up from bed and end up fainting." Evergreen said.

As if on cue, Bickslow started yelling from inside the apartment. "Guys! Hey, let me out of here I'm fine!"

"See what I mean." Evergreen said. "I really don't want to miss our date."

"Well we don't have to if we could find someone else to watch him." Laxus suggested. "But who?"

"Laxus!" Mira yelled running up the stairs to him. Lisanna came bouncing behind her.

"You all look so good for your date!" Lisanna said happily.

"I think we just found our someone." Laxus laughed.

"What are you talking about?" Mira asked.

"We need someone to watch Bickslow tonight while we're on our date since he's sick." Laxus explained.

"And Lisanna is the prefect candidate." Evergreen said.

"What-me?" She exclaimed.

"That's a great idea." Mira said clapping her hands together.

A loud bang came from the door they were standing next to. "Laxus buddy, come on let me out of here. I don't even feel sick anymore." Bickslow said, hitting the door.

"Stop lying." Laxus rolled his eyes. "He was burning up just a couple of minutes ago."

"So will you please watch Bickslow tonight- we don't trust him like this alone." Evergreen said.

"Um- I… I guess so." Lisanna said hesitantly. "It would be terrible if you guys missed your date."

"Then it's settled," Laxus said. "Come on in Lisanna." He opened the door to their apartment, leading her inside.

"Lisanna?" Bickslow said as she walked inside. His nose was red, his face was paler than usual and he had bags under his eyes. "What is this? Let me leave!"

Laxus crossed his arms. "You're not leaving, you're going to stay here and rest until you feel better."

"But I feel fine, look at me, I'm all better." He gestured to himself.

Laxus side glanced at Lisanna, who rolled her eyes. "You look pretty sick to me." She said quietly.

Bickslow turned towards her. "I feel fine, trust me."

Lisanna felt uneasy under his gaze, like he was looking through her. She wasn't used to seeing him without his helmet on. His dark red eyes dug deep into her skin. She looked away, her skin flushed. "You shouldn't lie to try to make everyone stop worrying about you."

"What did you say?" He asked, taking a step towards her. But he stopped himself in his tracks, and his hand flew towards his head. Laxus lunged forward right before Bickslow could fall straight on his face.

"See, you're sick. Now listen to us and go lay down. Lisanna's going to look after you while we're out. Behave yourself and don't give this lady too much to do." Laxus said helping Bickslow to his room.

Lisanna had only been in their apartment a few times before. It had five rooms, Laxus, Bickslow, and Freed's rooms, the bathroom and the front room which was both their living room and kitchen. It was quite clean- which Lisanna thought to herself was probably because of Freed.

Laxus came back into the room. "I hope he's not too much trouble for you. If he is, just knock him out until we come back." He grabbed his jacket from a chair before heading for the door. "Thanks Lisanna. I'll make sure Mira has a nice night out tonight."

As the door shut behind her, she stood awkwardly in the room, unsure of what to do. She had plans to just relax tonight, not having to work with Mira in the guild but there was no way she could just let them miss their dates tonight. The problem was she had a small crush on Bickslow and being alone with him always made her act like a fool.

She was interrupted from her thoughts as Bickslow walked in from his room. "You don't have to stay here, I'm fine by myself."

Lisanna shook her head. "You heard Laxus, you have to stay in bed."

"And I will, but you don't have to stay and watch me like I'm a baby." His voice trailed off.

"Doesn't everyone want to be babied when they're sick?" Lisanna asked. "You should see brother Elf when he gets sick- he tries to act manly but you can tell he likes the help Evergreen and us give him." She tried to lighten the mood but from the look on his face he seemed annoyed.

"Well, I can take care of myself. No need for you." He said sharply.

Lisanna was caught off guard normally Bickslow was happy and playful but he was the total opposite right now. She wondered if it was because he was sick or if it was because she was the one stuck watching him.

Bickslow turned his head so he was no longer looking at her but instead at his feet. "I'm fine."

"Then why do you look like you're about to pass out?" Lisanna asked taking a couple steps closer to him in case he did.

Bickslow moved passed her and sat on the couch. "Lisanna."

"Yes?" She asked.

"I am fine." He said weakly. "Please leave."

After a moment of silence, Lisanna put her hands on her hips and replied. "No."

"Why won't you listen?" He asked.

"Because not only did Laxus and Evergreen want me to stay and watch you, I care about you and don't want you to get more sick. So stop telling me to leave and go lay down."

He looked up at her, surprised. "You care about me?"

"Of course I do. We're both Fairy Tail wizards and I care about everyone in the guild." She said.

His eyes lowered. "Oh."

"You're going to go lay down or I'm going to force you to." She said trying to sound tough. She had noticed the small layer of sadness in his voice as he had said oh but choose to ignore figuring it was just because he was sick.

Bickslow let out a loud laugh. "You force me? I'm so scared now." He smiled up at her but Lisanna could tell it was forced. "I guess I'll listen to you."

"I can make you some food." She offered.

"Fine, Lisanna but remember I don't want to be babied." He stood up. "I'll be in my room, don't make anything too hard alright?"

She nodded and watched him go down the hall, making sure he didn't fall while walking. Looking around their pantry and fridge, she found some broth, noddles, veggies and meat to cook some soup- she tried to remember to thank Freed later for keeping this place stocked.

After she had set the food to cook she journeyed down the hall to Bickslow's room to check on him. He hadn't made any noise in the few minutes he had been in his room and she had grown worried, so worried she hadn't bothered to knock before opening his door. There he stood shirtless, about to put a different shirt on. "Oh!" She exclaimed shutting the door. "I should have knocked!." Se tried to calm down her reddening face before he opened the door.

"No need to be shy, I couldn't have been the first guy you've seen without a shirt." Bickslow laughed. "I mean we have Gray- the stripper in our guild." He opened the door- his face inches from hers. Her face grew redder. "I think you might have a sunburn." Bickslow laughed again.

She turned her face away from him, wishing to herself that she would stop blushing. Even sick he was still able to turn her into mush. She let out a cough, "I'm making you some soup so I was just coming to check on you."

Bickslow's gave her a strange look. "You really are worried about me aren't you?"

Lisanna ignored him, "Just tell me if you start feeling any worse, alright?" She said before turning away to head down the hall. Bickslow grabbed her hand as she turned away.

"Lisanna." She turned around. "Thank you, I know I was a douche a couple of minutes ago but I just don't want anyone to see me like this."

"It's okay. Just know it's always alright to get help when you need it." She smiled, trying to stay calm. He was so close to her she thought he could hear her pounding heart. He leaned forward causing there foreheads to touch. They stayed like that for a moment before she realized his forehead was burning up.

"You have a fever."

Bickslow pulled his face from her. "Really? It feels so cold in here."

"You probably feel that way because you have a fever. Go lay down, I'll bring you some soup in a couple minutes."

"Alright." He said but he didn't move away any more or let go of her hand.

"Bickslow?" She asked quietly looking him in the eyes.

"Sorry." He said letting go and heading into his room.

Lisanna raced into the kitchen, she was very confused. What just happened, she asked herself. He was acting very different today, though she hadn't spent much time with him alone. She thought back to his hot forehead on hers, he was probably way more sick then he let on. If his fever got any higher she might even have to take him to the hospital.

She hurried and finished the soup for him and brought it down the hall to his room. The door was open so she didn't have to bother with knocking. Bickslow was laying on his bed, hair messier than normal, and his face scrunched up in pain. When he saw Lisanna he sat up and tried to put a smile on his face.

"Looks tasty." He said grabbing the bowl from her.

"Hold on." She hurried out of the room to find a small towel. When she eventually found one in the kitchen, she ran some cool water on it. She had to try to break his fever.

"What's that for?" He asked, as she stood next to him by his bed. "Are you going to give me a sponge-bath?"

"I'm going to try to break your fever so you can get better quicker." She replied.

"I think I would have rather got a sponge-bath." He laughed. "Are you sure I have a fever? I actually feel really cold right now."

Lisanna placed a hand to his forehead, he was burning up. "Yes, I'm sure. You have a fever."

"Or your hand is just cold." He placed his empty bowl on the side table by his bed and tried to change the subject. "Thank you for the food, it was very tasty."

"Thanks, now will you let me cool down your fever?"

"Like I said, how do we know your hand just isn't cold, it felt cold to me." He questioned.

Lisanna thought for a moment and got an idea. She sat down next to him on the bed, trying not to think about how close she was to him. "When I was little, Mira would check to see if I had a fever by kissing my forehead, she did it that way because her hands are always slightly cold, so it was hard to tell without kissing my forehead."

"Why are you-" Bickslow was cut off as Lisanna's lips connected to his forehead. She stayed like that for a second longer than she should have before pulling away.

"You have a fever." She whispered. Bickslow looked at her surprised, his face turning red this time.

Neither of them knew what to say after that. But Bickslow broke the silence- "Okay, you can help me get rid of the fever."

Bickslow laid down completely, and let Lisanna wipe his forehead. "I hope you feel better." She said starting to leave the room.

"Lisanna." He called out before she could make it to the door. "Can you-uh"

"What do need?" She asked.

"Can you stay in here?" He asked catching her off guard. Lisanna was still quite embarrassed from kissing his forehead and wanted to hide away until the others got back. But she was suppose to take care of him and if that's what he wanted then she would have to stay.

"Of course." She said turning back towards him.

"You can-" Bickslow paused, trying to collect his thoughts. "sit on the bed with me if you want."

Lisanna looked around his room, it was pretty empty besides his bed- probably since he was always out on missions- but besides the bed there was no where to sit.

"Do you mind turning off the light? I feel like sleeping for a bit." He asked.

She turned off the light, and sat next to him again, leaning against the bed post. Some light came from the lamppost outside shining through the window curtains over them.

It only took Bickslow ten minutes to fall asleep. Lisanna didn't know what to do with herself now that he was asleep, so she watched him breathe. She could feel the heat radiating off of him from where she sat- as far as she could be without falling off the bed. He would shiver every now and then, and Lisanna had to force herself from reaching out to him.

Lisanna struggled to stay awake as the minutes passed. Her eyes shut for a couple moments before she heard Bickslow whisper, "Lisanna."

She forced her eyes open and looked down at him. He was laying on his side in the opposite direction from her. She couldn't tell if he was awake or not. "What?" she whispered.

"Lisanna, you're beautiful." He whispered back.

"Are you awake?" She asked as her face flushed.

He rolled over to face her and leaned on his elbow. "Yep." As he looked up at her, she swore she could see sincerity in his eyes. "I like you, Lisanna." He reached out to lay his hand on top of hers on the bed.

She was sure she could be read as easy as an open book. Of course she liked him, but he was probably half asleep or him being sick was making him not think clearly. Wishing hard that it was too dark for him to see her blushing, she tried to think of every excuse in the book about why he would say that besides accepting that he actually liked her.

Bickslow stared at her in silence, waiting for her to say anything. When she didn't he continued. "You don't believe me, do you? Lisanna listen, you are the kindest, cutest girl I've ever met. When you smile my heart skips a beat, whenever you laugh I feel the happiest I have ever felt just because I know that you're happy. If you don't like me back, I get it but I had to tell you how I felt." He paused and looked for any expression from her. She looked like she was about to cry. "Are you okay?"

Lisanna wiped her tears. "These aren't sad tears." She started, slightly laughing. "It's just I never thought I would hear you say those things. I like you too Bickslow."

Bickslow laughed. "I would kiss you right now, if I wasn't sick." Lisanna laughed with him. He reached up and hugged her. They broke apart after a couple minutes. "Lay with me." Bickslow said pulling her under the blankets with him. "And keep me warm."

"Okay." She said snuggling up against him, his thick arms wrapped around her. He kissed the top of her head and they fell asleep.