#it replicates her bear hat

[volleypearlfan]

Mitchlendez ❤️🧡

Based on this Spy x Family panel

[sleepydaemon]

I feel like we get to learn a lot about the heroes just by their costumes, which is some FANTASTIC visual storytelling on the part of the YJ creators.

Robin has a fantastic arc where he decides that he still wants to fight crime and save people, but he doesn't actually want to be Batman. And this is shocking, but at the same time, his costume is RED and YELLOW. YJ Batman wears black and grey, with a muted brown belt. Robin's colour scheme has set him apart from Batman from episode 1!! Of course he's not going to be a perfect carbon copy!!!

Artemis's costume, on the other hand, resembles Green Arrow's very closely from a surface view. They both have the multiple shades of green, quiver over the shoulder, utility belt around the waist, and her mask even gives a similar visual impact to his hood! There are differences, obviously, but in general Artemis is very much trying to look like she belongs on the team, and her supposed relationship with Green Arrow is her one ticket to achieving that.

Speedy, on the other hand, looks VERY different from Green Arrow (even before he rebrands). The colour difference seems the most drastic out of all the pairs, and his hat especially separates him from Green Arrow. He wants to be his own hero, and visually he looks like his own hero (though his costume is probably also the dorkiest, which might be contributing to his anger issues).

Superboy kind-of has two costumes, the pure white cadmus suit and the costume he picked out, neither of which bear much similarity to Superman’s costume. He keeps the symbol to signify his choice to be a hero, but he has to grapple with Superman’s rejection of his existence immediately, and is choosing to be visually distinct.

Aqualad is quite visually distinct from Aquaman, but the similar details of their costumes make them match. The design of their shirts, the ‘A’ symbol on their belts, the darker pants. They are two heroes that pair together well, but who have their own skill sets. I think this really contributes to how grounded Kaldur is as a leader.

Miss Martian's costume is very similar to Martian Manhunter, with blue cape, red X, and green skin. There are minor differences, but they don't visually separate them, instead making her seem like a miniature version of him, because since she wants to be a green martian, just like him!!!

Kid Flash matches pretty well with Flash, but they add all these little details (the goggles, the hair tuft, the snack compartment) that manage to really show his personality, which is already so big.

Zatanna’s costume is almost identical to Zatara’s, showing that they are clearly close and adding a visual element to Zatara’s overprotectiveness. But then Zatara gets taken over by doctor fate, which completely changes his costume. So it ends up with Zatanna replicating a costume that DOESN’T EXIST ANYMORE!! WHICH IS SUCH A POWERFUL REPRESENTATION OF HER LOSS!!!

Idk man it’s all just so good

[kyros-tha-soldier]

chapter 1103 SPOILERS

I've gotten a bit lazy lately, I'm basically burnt out to the BONE from work so sorry for not bringing the previous leaks earlier:

we've got big news for my beloved bonbon and her bear papa:

The chapter's title is "I'm sorry, daddy" (GOOOOOOOOD WHY!) And we have a beautiful color spread of the straw hats and our beloved wano warrior YAMATO, they're all riding momo in his dragon form (😏) since it's the year of the dragon

We start where we finished in the mini flashback, where bonney is standing in the memory bubble room, she turns back to her original child form and apologizes to vegapunk since she used to think HE was the one behind her dad's death

Vegapunk understands and gives her something Kuma was planning on handing her on her 10th birthday, it's a sun necklace made of sapphire

UAAAAAAAGHHHH NOOOOOO HOW DARE YOU SATURN!! HOW DARE YOU KILL SOMEONE AS SWEET AS KUMA

Speak of the devil (literally!) We go back to the present time confrontation between saturn, the remaining vegapunks, the cp0 and the rest. Bonney uses her attack "Nika-ish future" to attack saturn but she fails. NOW THIS IS WHERE IT'S ABOUT TO GET ABSOLUTELY BONKERS!

Saturn thinks to himself that this form of Bonney's Nika is much more different than the Nika God since she can only replicate the rubber power

This mf Saturn has his power over everybody that they can't budge a single inch, suddenly he notices that Luffy is eating some food from the floor (somebody must've snuck it at the beginning of the confrontation or smtn) of course Saturn is like "how fucking dare you eat while I'm in the middle of my epic fit of rage" and orders someone to chain him with kairoseki (what a vibe killer)

Like oooooooh calm down big man he's not gonna bite you ffs

It's revealed that thw Toshi Toshi no mi power was given to bonney by saturn, now underline the word "POWER" because this is where it's about to get REALLY messed up

Saturn has been experimenting on people to extract devil fruit powers and then give them to other people. And of course, as fucked up as it sounds, Saturn gave the disease to Ginny (probably while she was pregnant) and the poor woman ended up developing the rare sapphire scale disease

i swear on god, if Saturn's bitchass doesn't get absolutely wrecked then I'm dropping OP, do NOT DISAPPOINT ME ODA I AM SERIOUS!

also is it just me, or is this aj attempt from Oda to clarify that the sapphire scale disease is a sideffect and not an STD? Because I've ssen A LOT of fans speculating about that and i have NEVER EVER in my life thought I'd see the day where I'll hear the words STD and ONE PIECE in one sentence until this very arc!

anyways, Saturn's stupid-ass gave the toshi toshi effect to ginny and somehow she passed it to bonney during her pregnancy, this comes as a surprise to him since this has never happened

According to Saturn, the more bonney starts to learn about Nika's true form and tries to copy it, the weaker she becomes. bonney is seen crying in despair and fear, she apologizes to her father about how despite how far he went to ensure she'd make it out alive, she will end up dead anyways

NO BONBON DON'T CRY PLEASE I'M BEGGING YOU PAPA WOULD ALWAYS PROTECT YOU!!!

Speaking of her papi, Kuma crashes right into egghead and gets attacked by some marine soldiers who were shooting at him with grenade launchers (taht's hardcore as fuck, I AM DROPPING THE PANELS NOW just so you can see how cold Kuma looks!)

he gets injured once again in his head but is able to reach Saturn just in time (who had thrown bonney to the ground and was about to squash her with his spider legs) just for Kuma to come and shield her with his body, and have the long nail at the end of Saturn's leg punture his back and chest

Kuma grabs him by the leg and turs around, readying a punch as his face grimaces in rage, and saturn looks at him in absolute shock

and now, DRUM ROLL FOR THE LEAAAAAAAAAKS

oh boy, we eating GOOD tonight!

[howlingday]

Last survivir au how about ironwood builds more penny models like one made using achnee aura for schnee semblance. A penny model made from silver eye aura for silver eyes and neons aura for a faunus android. Making penny and her younger sisters a fill in for team rwby which hurts jaune as all he sees what team rwby could have been if they lived.

"Doctor Polendina."

"General Ironwood, welcome." The roboticist greeted the general and headmaster. "I thought you'd be interested to know the P.E.N.N.Y. model is almost complete."

"Excellent to hear, Doctor. But if I may make a request?"

"I... suppose." The doctor eyed him. "Is it related to the project?"

"In a way. I trust you've been keeping yourself informed with recent events?"

"It's hard not to with such a tragedy." He removed his hat and placed it over his chest. "Those poor children."

"Yes, my thoughts and condolences go out to their families." General Ironwood nodded. "And on the subject, a thought came to mind from the morbid event and your project-"

"No." The general nearly flinched. "I refuse to make a robot army, General. We've been over this."

"Of course, and I have no intention to weaponize these machines." Thought it would have been nice to have some more firepower to battle the Grimm. "However, there are grieving families out there. Families who are inconsolable and will only bring Grimm with their negative emotions. With their empathy, they could-"

"I stand by what I said, James." He glared at the tall standing man. "Penny is special because there's only one of her. Just like there's only one James Ironwood. To replicate her would not only diminish resources, but it would also diminish the purpose of this project. I've only allowed her to be outfitted with her weapons as a means to protect herself and others."

The general was silent for a time. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his stiff nerves building throughout his body. Even after decades of unlocking his semblance, he still had trouble reigning it in. One of these days, his focus was going to bring nothing but trouble.

"You're right. I'm sorry, Doctor." He sighed. "I'd forgotten the reason you came to me with this project idea."

"Your heart was in the right place, General. It was just pointing in the wrong direction."

"Thank you, Doctor." He then gave a chuckle. "But next time, please, maintain military bearing and call me General."

"Of course, sir." He gave a stiff salute, and the general left him to his work with-

"Father? Who was that man?"

"That was General Ironwood, sweetie." Pietro replied to the voice on his computer. "He's the man who will be training you very soon."

"General Ironwood." There was silence, though it was filled with different web-pages being brought on screen. "He is the headmaster of Atlas Academy and the commanding officer of Atlas military. He is currently unmarried, though there are rumors of him having a prior relationship with-"

"Oh, Penny!" Pietro quickly closed the tabloid article. "I told you to ignore that paparazzi nonsense!"

[enrusmindara]

Today is canadian Thanksgiving, so I decided to make a more ambitious piece to celebrate.

Enrus is spending the night having a meal with his friends. Enrus has been practicing his cooking since he started to put on weight and is pretty decent nowadays. The ingredients may have come from a replicator, but the meal is still hand cooked.

Left to right:

Renzaul (Ren): a bear with an extensive history in robotics. Like Enrus, he used to work for the mega corporation Tayre Corp. They met when Enrus had to request parta for cybernetics from his workshop, leading to an accident that cost him an arm and the two scrambling to assemble a mechanical one out of spare parts before he bled out. He's a real serious, and grumpy looking guy but a big, strong teddy bear under it all. He is a loving single father to two kids and a pet dog.

Bantozeen (Bant): An ex member of the Tayre Security devision. He secretly betrayed the company sometime before meeting Enrus after his closest friends and family were black bagged. He worked undercover for the resistance and supplied them with weapons. He's a a sweet person who is always genuine l, but also a walking stream of consciousness monologuing that won't ever shut up. That may have actually helped his cover as no one would listen to a word he said and couldn't get a word in edgewise when he was around. I had no idea how to pose him here so he's bragging about going seven rounds with an MMA fighter.

Enrus: You know and love this big fat fox already. But a bit of background, his mother was actually a high-ranking official within the company. Putting immense pressure on his every action. His entire future was effectively charted for him, and it left him completely hollow inside, coasting through life unaware of his surroundings until the day he caused the accident that cost Ren his arm. This led to a lifelong friendship and enrus finally seeing the civil unrest in the country. He made contact with the resistance through a private server in one of his favorite games and worked to topple the company from the inside. This got him in contact with Bant, and through investigating the shadier dealings of the company, they found and rescued Marzelle.

During the final raid he was shot in the head and spent over 6 minths resting in an intensive trauma unit (thank god for sci fi medical tech). The blue patches are actually a side effect of a different treatment for chemical burns, the chemicals melted him down nearly to the bone and entire muscle and skin tissue had to be donated from a matching donor who happened to be a bright blue wolf. He has an artificially grown eye replacing his original right eye as well.

Marzell (Mars): Youve already seen her before, she's a Grey hat hacker, formerly black hat, that got kidnapped by Tayre corp and tortured. Enrus and Bant found her cell while investigating the company and helped her escape. She spends her time helping getting the networks integral to the city's infrastructure running again to return some degree of normalcy to the people again.

She has a girlfriend that she loves very much (she the only member to find love in the years after their victory so far). She goes to therapy to help deal with the trauma of her brief time being held captive as well.

I love my little underground freedom fighters.

[ws-01-elena]

Days had gone by since starting this small experiment with the code. Each passing hour it seems to only get better at copying everything in the room. The only identifying feature was a green tint.

For the first time in a while Elena was doing some basic work in her office. As much as she wanted to avoid it she began piecing together a report for the Bureau. Truthfully she hoped the Bureau wouldn’t come to check on the code. It would probably approve of her work, but something in her feels dread about having to possibly speak with the other.

Plus, if the Bureau did come investigating it would probably notice notes in her reports. As the pen in her paws glides across the paper she realizes she’s leaving things out on purpose. Why? She doesn’t know. Maybe it’s just because she doesn’t know the codes full potential- after all it could change making all previous data useless.

Regardless, looking down at her report she’s hesitant to turn it in. Why is she lying?

It’s then crinkled up into a ball, tossed into the small trash can beside her desk. The bottom is filled with her first two attempts. A fresh clean sheet is again under her paws. The words should flow easily, there’s so much to be said about the code and its progression, but she stares at the paper.

“This is ridiculous.” She drops her pen, her paws going to rub where a face should be. “You sort papers. You’ve literally written papers. Why can’t you write this one?”

Still, that fails to motivate her any. Just to have an excuse about it Elena checks the time. It’s been a few hours since she checked on the code, probably the longest she hasn’t been in that room, so she might as well mull over the report in there.

The office is nice today. Of course it always is, it’s stunningly clean, it looks like it should have more activity than it does. Today it’s not too bad. Elena politely waves at some of the other workers, even striking a conversation with a few. It leaves a pleasant buzzing in her circuitry. The Federation is perfect, this office is perfect too, but nothing truly beats having a chat in the break room with another worker.

Bustling synthetic paws against tile quiet, the approach to the observation labs have that effect. For a good reason, you don’t want to disturb anyone housed in the lab. Here, it’s between the scientists and the experiments.

(A little lonely, but that’s science.)

The doors open as Elena walks through, closing them behind her and going to the storage lockers to see what she could throw in the room today. Actually, Elena wanted to test something new. A picture book. She was curious if the code would only replicate the book or what it would see.

Finally she walks towards the glass, too focused on finding a page that would garner the best results. Something recognizable, easily unmissable to her censors and something that would take the code time to perfect. Maybe something like-

Elena looks up. There’s a blank face on the other side of the glass. White ears poke out from a hard hat, accompanied with matching construction gear. Easily looking like another worker, all except the glitching and green colors. A few details are missing, but it unmistakably looks like them.

Her partner.

Of all the objects in the floor none have any similarities with the bear. Absolutely none. No other workers enter this room either.

Only Elena does.

[thebirdandthebee]

Easy As

A Carmen Berzatto Universe

A/N: Here’s another from the inbox - Carmen and Vi’s smutty halloweekend! It’s not as detailed as other smut chapters, but still steamy! Thanks to all who have sent in fun prompts, I’m excited to get writing :)

Vanessa Monaghan is the breath of fresh air that Carmen had been gasping for.

Chapter 24: Imposter

By the time Carmen and Vanessa rolled around to their second Halloween together, they’d been dating 16 months, and Carmen knew he was going to marry her.

He knew that for certain when she swung open the door to her condo for him, dressed head to toe like she was going to be working in his kitchen, only the shirt she wore underneath his blue apron was cropped to high heaven and her little spandex shorts were certainly not going to be protecting her from any oil pops.

Her feet were tucked into black Crocs, just like his kitchen shoes, and his tattoos had been carefully drawn on in black magic marker. He knew he had a hard time finding the chain necklace he wore nearly every day that morning, but now he knew she’d swiped it instead of it showing up in the dryer like it did from time to time.

“You’re late,” she smirked. “Don’t let it happen again,” she finished, brandishing with her metal spatula.

“Yes, chef,” Carmen smirked, closing the front door behind him. “Do a little spin for me, let me look at you.” He said, twirling one of his fingers in the air.

Vanessa did as he asked, spinning slowly and sweetly on her heel.

“Look at you all tatted up,” he grinned, gently moving her around to see how many she’d replicated.

“I’ve already got your next one planned,” she winked, “you can try to find it later.” She shivered slightly as his cold hands slid up her sides.

“No bra?” He asked, “baby, I don’t want Richie seeing your nips.” Vanessa laughed.

“I’m going to put a bra on,” she insisted, “and some proper trousers – just wanted you to see the ideal look before I changed.”

“Ideal look?” He asked, walking her backward through the foyer to the hall.

“Yeah, I ordered some shorties in your size, too, think this might be a good look for you at the restaurant,” she giggled, warping her body away from his hands as he nipped softly at her side.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he groaned, “how are we supposed to go anywhere with you looking like this, huh?”

“Car-my,” she sang, rolling her head to the side as he kissed his way up her neck. “Come on, we’re gonna be late,” she insisted.

“Nah, you can’t tell me we’re gonna be late when you greet me like this,” he replied, mocking her and walking her right into her bedroom.

“Seems more fitting for you to fuck me in the kitchen, huh?” She countered, batting her lashes.

“Trust me, there will be plenty of time for that,” he said, “for now, I think this will do just fine.” He turned her around to face her bed, hand sliding up from the small of her back to bend her gently over the edge of the mattress. “Tell me what you want, chef,” he said, leaning over her and squeezing her hips in his hands.

“Carmy,” she whined gently, pressing her body back into his. Carmen slid one hand down between her legs, feeling where she was hot and wet beneath his fingers. “Fuck me, please,” she pleaded as he fumbled to pull his cock out of his black sweatpants.

“Heard, chef,” he grinned to himself, mesmerized at the sight of his length slowly pushing his way in to her tight, wet heat.

An hour later, they were throwing back shots at The Bear alongside Ibrahim and Richie. Richie, donning a full sheriff’s costume, was all too glad to drape himself over Vanessa at any given chance.

She’d already forced Carmen to take a hundred photos of her all around the kitchen, mimicking him in a way she reassured was hero worship and not mockery. Carmen was happy to watch her be ridiculous, feeling rather at ease in his Chicago Cubs jersey and hat, two grease line stickers underneath each eye.

“Here, here, Syd,” Vanessa said, handing her phone over to her friend, who donned her own pilot costume. “Take one of me and Carmen - people aren’t going to be able to tell us apart.”

Vanessa buddied right up to Carmen, crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to make her biceps look bigger.

“Twins,” Syd commented dryly, but with a smile on her face after all. “I certainly can’t tell who is who,” she kept snapping photos as Vanessa impeded further upon Carmen’s personal space, trying to look intimidating. Soon Vanessa abandoned her Carmen persona, throwing her arms around her boyfriend and pressing a big wet kiss to his cheek. “Oh come on,” Syd groaned.

Carmen gave Vanessa a squeeze, deliriously happy in this moment.

Another hour passed, with several more drinks down the hatch before Vanessa and Carmen readied themselves to leave for their next party at Nick’s bar with her college friends.

Vanessa danced around Carmen victoriously as she took home the Best Costume award, which was a big blue ribbon. He tried his very best to keep her hands out of his baseball pants in the back of their Uber.

“Hey, it’s a hundred dollar fee if I gotta clean your jizz off the seats,” the driver warned – only half-joking.

When they pushed the door open to Nick’s, they were greeted by a big group, Carmen excited to celebrate with his newfound friends. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and Vanessa’s inhibitions were long out the window.

Carmen watched as she flitted around the bar, celebrating with her friends and cooing over Gina’s pictures of Rosie dressed like a little bumblebee.

“Know what I want to be for Halloween next year?” She asked, returning to Carmen who’d posted up in a newly available barstool.

“What’s that, Ness?” He asked as she looped her arms over his shoulders.

“Your wife,” she grinned, pressing her hips into his.

“You don’t wanna be a chef anymore?” He asked, both hands braced against the small of her back. “Thought you liked being Carmen Berzatto,” he grinned, brushing her hair back from her face.

“Now I’m gonna be Mrs. Berzatto,” she simpered, the effect immediate as he could feel himself harden in his pants. And that’s how they ended up slinking away to the men’s bathroom, Vanessa propped up on the bathroom counter as Carmen pounded into her ruthlessly.

Vanessa giggled uncontrollably when her friends began slamming their palms on the door after they finished up as they re-dressed.

“I swear I’m gonna call the health department on myself if you two assholes do that again,” Nick warned, but wore a smile regardless. Carmen had one hand on Vanessa at all times, and as she handed over a shot of Jameson, he threw it back before they met for another steamy kiss.

“Ness, are you in heat, or what?” Gina asked with a laugh, twirling around in her Minnie Mouse dress.

“Fuck, I think I am,” she admitted, watching Carmen cheers a round with a group of the guys. “I just… everything he does makes me want him,” she groaned. “I swear this man makes me feral,” she sighed.

“When’s he moving in?” Gina asked. “It’s totally a socially acceptable time by now,” she finished.

“He hasn’t said anything,” Nessa shrugged, a little bit of the wind leaving her sails. “Maybe he doesn’t want to move in?” She asked.

“Nah, that’s not it,” Gina shook her head. “I’ve seen you date a handful of guys that liked you a lot, but that man is obsessed with you,” she added. “Take what you want, Vanessa,” she encouraged, “you always have – don’t stop now.”

Vanessa eyed her man – she did always get what she wanted – and right now, she wanted Carmen.

“Take me home,” she purred in his ear, wrapping herself around him from behind.

“That’s my cue,” he announced, all too happy to lead her out from the bar and into the back of a taxi.

“When we get home” she murmured, nuzzling into his neck, “I want to feel this,” she traced the bridge of his nose, “right here,” she guided his hands between her legs.

“Anything you want, chef,” he said, head swimming in her perfume and the last two tequila shots they took at Nick’s.

He made good on his promise, spending enough time with his face buried between her legs to bring tears to her eyes as she clutched his curls tightly. In return, she rode him until his eyes rolled back into his head.

The next morning was a slightly different story, the both of them waking up reluctantly. Carmen groaned, rolling into Vanessa and pulling her body closer to his from where she’d drifted away from him in the night.

“Are we dead?” He asked quietly, already hearing the change in her breathing and knowing she was awake.

“God I hope so,” she rebutted.

“Why did we drink so much?” He asked, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes.

“It was a really good idea at the time,” she moaned, pressing her face into his chest where it was bare from between the open panels of his Cubs jersey.

“I can’t believe I have to work tonight,” he sighed, finally willing his eyelids to open. “Baby your tattoos are everywhere,” he smiled., knowing a simple laugh would send him into a migraine spiral.

“Oh,” Vanessa looked down at her body with a frown. “I worked really hard on those,” she mumbled.

“Want me to get the rest in the shower?” He offered, brushing his hand down the back of her head gently.

“You go ahead, I’ll order coffee and meet you in there,” she said, pressing a kiss to his skin. They both rolled out of bed, Vanessa setting out to find her phone where she’d dropped it the night before in the living room.

After placing a ridiculously priced DoorDash order for Starbucks, she padded back to the bedroom and met Carmen in the shower. “Hold me,” she demanded softly, to which he was happy to comply.

“Good morning, Chef,” he murmured into her damp hair.

“Did’you like my costume?” She asked in reply, resting her head on his shoulder.

“The blue apron has never looked better,” he agreed, stroking a hand up and down the length of her spine.

“It was easy to pull together, all your stuff is here,” she said, pressing a light kiss to his neck. “I suppose maybe you have one or two things left at your place,” she traced a soft circle on his chest.

“Maybe one,” Carmen agreed, slowly rocking her underneath the warm spray of water.

“But you could always bring that one thing here,” she proposed softly. “Then all your stuff would be here,” Vanessa finished.

Carmen was quiet for a moment before pressing a kiss to her hairline.

“You asking me to move in?” He prompted quietly.

“It’s silly for you to pay rent,” she looked up at him through wet lashes that had just remnants of mascara from last night. “You’re here all the time.”

“So you’re trying to help me save some money?” He asked with a grin.

“It’s the economical thing to do,” she blinked, making him laugh. “And I just want you with me all the time,” she added. “I want your morning breath and your cold feet at night,” she elaborated. “Plus this way I can tell people I have a live-in chef.”

Carmen leaned down to press his lips to hers.

“I’d love to move in with you,” he mumbled.

“Plus, if you move in with me, we can shower together every day,” she tilted her head, “and you know how much I love it when you use the shower head on me.”

Carmen’s head dropped forward with a groan, slightly lightheaded as all the blood in his body ran to his cock.

“Come on,” she grinned, nipping at his jaw, “we’ve got twenty minutes till our coffees arrive.”

[thecraftymagician]

Other Gift Ideas for the Main 6:

In honor of the new story, the Heartsong Festival, that got added today I came up with some gift predictions/ideas when starting it. I won't spoil any of the ones in the game but I'm kind of surprised at how close and vastly off I was haha but let me know what you think!

Asra 💜

Why was Asra the trickiest? What do you get for the snarky magician who has everything? They might have a.. unique sense of fashion to some but it does give some inspiration. Perhaps matching hats, scarves, or tops for you both and maybe one for Faust too!

A new travel bag or satchel. They're always on the move and going on adventures, it wouldn't be a shock if their luggage became worse for the wear. You could replace it or maybe you can repair it for them after they threw it out believing it to be finished. Nope! Good as new with quirky, adorable patchwork and designs from his favorite.

A tapestry or some kind of hanging. Maybe it has foxes, constellations or is even from somewhere you traveled together months ago. Good thing you're good at packing so he didn't find it! Or maybe you meant to give it to him sooner and forgot.. It doesn't make the fact that you thought of them any less special!

Muriel 💚

A large cozy blanket, I'm talking 64×64 at the smallest to keep him all warm and safe. I know he has furs but I just think he'd be amazed at having something his size, especially from you.

A knit sweater to match his scarf maybe or one with chickens or bears in the pattern. It might be silly but I'm sure he'd love it. Or a subtle motif around the collar or sleeve situation.

Let's say Muriel teaches you how to carve and you spend weeks trying to replicate Inanna's essence.. no matter how great or bad you find it to be, he would be speechless in the best possible way.

Nadia 💙

Now here's the thing; Nadia LOVES sparing no expense on those she loves but in return she'd rather you not break the bank for her. Of course she'd love anything you get her, though.

A custom piece of jewelry with crystals that remind you of her or vice versa. Or your initials together in a creative way, or zodiacs, etc. Maybe to replace a certain gaudy ring or a lovely tennis bracelet she can wear all the time.

Depending on how good of a chef you are, cooking her favorite meal. Obviously Portia would help you if you need but I'm sure she'd just love the taste of home and the fact that her favorite person? Took the time and effort? To cook her, her favorite dish? The talent, the absolute thoughtfulness!

Honestly anything that might remind her of home. And if she gets wistful or a little homesick.. you let her know you cleared your schedule and are ready for an adventure whenever she can next!

Julian 🖤

My first thought was due to tiktok; a custom brewed mead. Strawberries, chocolate, roses, the works! You could also surprise him with it on a boat ride at dusk to star gaze together, hmm?

A sleep mask or a calming room spray (maybeee with a spell or special ingredients that just happen to make you very tired and make you get at least 8hrs of rest). This man needs to sleep but if you give him something to help, he'll have no choice but to use it. Neglect a gift from you? Never!

Poetry or any kind of love letter. Make it heart-felt, make it bold! Become Shakespeare! Even if you aren't comfortable expressing your feelings that way or find it silly, he will weep unironically and cherish it forever. If it's a bit cheesy then you'll both be sure to get a good laugh out of it too!

Portia 🧡

Something handmade like a pitcher or vase (in which case you give her full of her favorite flowers, aww!). For some reason I also thought a picnic basket, hand-woven by you or otherwise. Just something that she can use and think of you!

Your favorite book(s) and/or her favorite(s) from growing up or borrowed from the palace. Even if your favorite is a heavy, dense read on magic she'd love to get to know you in this new way. Also, please teach her some spells or charms! She'd love it so much.

A herb planter box. I'm sure she has plenty around but just a little one to keep in the windowsill with the ones she uses most frequently for cooking and baking. Maybe a few tea plants for good measure. You could also get her a mortar and pestle in the same vein but she might already have one.. oh, well! Who ever said you can't have two, especially if one is from a loved one!

Lucio ❤

A portrait of the two of you! You'd think that'd ruin the surprise but there are ways around that; Surprise him with it the day of (I'm honestly sure he wouldn't mind posing all day regardless but at the same time he'd get bored after a while haha) or get one done months ahead of time, insisting you want it for yourself.. just to have the artist make a copy for him. Either a small one to keep in a locket/pocket watch situation, or a grand one to hang in the palace halls, he'd love it!

A custom sword, perfectly balanced as all things should be. Either one made for the battle field or a gaudy, shiny masterpiece for show. You could have it engraved with your initials or full name too.

Something like gloves or a cloak that has something stitched on the inside, a hidden message just for him. He may be a larger than life count but he needs words of affirmation sometimes. No, he's not crying! His cloak just.. got fur in his eye is all!

Bonus:

(These could be extras and/or work for anybody!)

Enchant it to smell like you or spray it with your go to scent!

A massage from you or couples massage, face masks, a calm night at home together; these people need to r e l a x

Coupons! Kisses, hugs, date night, you name it. It might be basic or over done but they can still be cute.

Handmade card, handmade card, handmade card

Scavenger hunt for you or their gift!! Take them to all the places you've gone together or just across Vesuvia. (Muriel might have to just be in the forest but it'd still be nice!)

*cough* proposal *cough* (only if everyone is comfy with it!)

[danses-with-dogmeat]

could you write the sensory overload prompt with fallout new vegas companions as well (including benny)? and maybe butch deloria if thats not too much ^^

Romanced! FO3 & FONV Companions React to Autistic!Six/Lone with Sensory Overload Anxiety

Whoops, I ended up doing all of the companions from FO3 as well, my bad 🤷‍♀️

But here they are! Thank you so much for the ask, and I hope you enjoy!

This prompt with FO4 R!Companions

FONV

Arcade:

The doctor would want to help, would actually know how to help, but he may just get overwhelmed as well. He tends to focus on Six themself, rather than the situation surrounding them, that’s where the panic tends to get to him. But Six, he can deal with. If possible, he will try to remove his companion from their stressful surroundings, but whether or not he is able, Arcade tries to stay calm, using his voice, and breathing techniques and exercises he’s read about to try and deflate their rising anxieties. He tends to make sarcastic comments in the aftermath, more so to expel his own pent up anxiety than to help Six, but they don’t need to know that.

Benny:

He's scared out of his mind the first time it happens. Six is pretty much invincible in his eyes, so this… just being around loud noises and such? That's what's rustling their jimmies? Wack. For a small moment, he feels like it's his fault, and even after the courier informs him that this is just a part of who they are, that they have always been this way, he still feels another dizzying pang of regret, knowing that a couple of bullets to the brain probably couldn't have helped their preexisting condition in any way. Over time, he'd get better about helping to calm his partner down, but he starts out rather overbearing, touching them too much, talking too quickly, having a panicked reaction that tends to only escalate the sensory overload they're experiencing. At least Six wouldn't have to worry about their safety in a combat situation with the Ben-man at their side. He's one of the best shots in the Mojave (if not the best). No one is getting past him. He may be an old hat when it comes to injuring Six, but he'll be hot diggidy damned if he's gonna let someone else lay a finger on them under his watch.

Boone:

First off, the sniper would try to prevent Six from entering into any stress-filled situations at all, reminding them that he is more dangerous from a distance anyway. However, he knows that, in the Mojave, avoiding dangerous or overwhelming environments altogether is damn near impossible, so he’ll try to be prepared. He’s dealt with his own vicious bouts of PTSD long enough to have developed coping mechanisms to help him, and has actively used tools like sunglasses and ear plugs in his time with the 1st Recon, which he would recommend to them as well. Boone would approach his partner in their time of need, trying to refrain from being overbearing, but ultimately his support wouldn’t waver as he helped Six try to come down from their state of panic.

Cass:

She honestly doesn't understand how Six has been able to survive in this world with their sensory overload anxiety, and she respects them even more now that she knows they have managed to. She may not be the best at helping them handle their stress, so she usually leaves Six to their own devices while she works on removing anything that could be causing her partner's apprehension. Once the threat is gone, she'll stand nearby until Six has managed to calm themself down, just to cover them and keep an eye out. When it seems to be over, she likes to bring them somewhere to unwind; and enjoys simply sitting with them and maybe having a drink or two as they recover their strength, and bearings.

Raul:

He’ll talk them through the whole ordeal. Is he nervous about their state of panic? Probably. But his partner doesn’t need to know that. The ghoul doesn’t know a lot in terms of dealing with meltdowns, but for Six, he’ll try. Whatever sort of exercises they start to engage in to get their anxiety under control, he’ll be beside them, trying to participate, to help them through it if they seem to be struggling. He’ll get better at dealing with it over time, but it always scares him a bit to see his partner this way. Evidently, he will become more and more aware of his surroundings the more they travel together, and will try to keep them away from the situations he finds tend to set them off.

Veronica:

Whatever it was that seemed to have Six panicked, Veronica would seek to expel it in whatever way she can (but she's most enthusiastic when it involves punching). Her physical assault of the enemies responsible would be relentless, but should the episode be caused by something else, Veronica would be less comfortable dealing with it, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t try. She mostly leaves Six to figure out their meltdown on their own, maybe going through breathing exercises with them and sticking by their side, but letting them calm themself of their own accord. Her involvement with the Berotherhood has taught her enough to know not to add any pressure to someone enduring this amount of stress. However, when they do eventually tell her that they are through the worst of it, she would try to give them some form of physical contact to help reassure them that she’s there for them, if they are comfortable with it.

FO3

Butch:

He’s known Lone a long time, and since they were kids, he’s been learning about the sort of situations that set them off. Now that they’re together, he’ll try his hardest to think back to all the times they were overwhelmed, and would attempt to keep them from these types of environments as best as he can. That doesn’t always work though, given the differences between the vault and the unpredictable outside world. Despite this, he also tends to remember the way their father used to help them when they became panicked like this, and will try to replicate these actions in order to best help his companion. Once he's succeeded in helping them calm down, they might have to return the favor, as their panic tends to do a number on Butch. Though he has seen them in such a state more than a few times, that doesn’t mean he likes it one bit, or will ever be truly used to it.

Charon:

Calm and collected as ever, Charon would systematically eliminate all stressful factors that could be affecting Lone. When he had seen to that task, he would turn to his partner, standing by their side and waiting for direction of how best he could help them. If they can recover on their own, he’ll be nearby to cover them, but if they are in need of his assistance, as long as they tell him what they need, he will oblige. In the aftermath of Lone’s meltdown, Charon would keep his blue eyes locked on them as his worry wears away at his stoic exterior. They will need to tell him that they are okay, or else he will refuse to carry on with their travels. Until he knows they can handle it, he won’t allow them to set off again.

Clover:

The poor thing would do everything wrong in this instance. She would try so damn hard to help her partner in their time of need, but ultimately she would prove to only add to the list of overwhelming factors surrounding Lone. As soon as she saw the panic wash over her companion, she would be by their side, speaking to them quickly, and as quietly as she could, but her own anxiety would cause a high pitch to sound from her throat as she tried to talk her companion down, running her hands over their arms as she does her best to support them, her frantic touches only serving to quicken their heartbeat further as they felt trapped by her concerned caresses. Once Lone finally does manage to settle down, Clover would be almost hurt by their lack of reciprocation when she tried to aid them; that is, until Lone explains to her that there are better ways for her to help. Now Clover just has to remember this for future instances...

Cross:

She’s been a soldier long enough to know how to deal with stress on the battlefield, but it’s somehow different when it’s her partner going through the ordeal. She’ll be uncharacteristically tender as she takes them through the motions she was taught to use in order to calm her fellow soldiers’ nerves. Her voice would remain soft, her touches gentle, her brows knitted together in concern until Lone finally showed signs of calming down. The paladin would release a long breath, as though finally expelling her own apprehension at the situation, and then would straighten herself up, returning to the seasoned soldier she was in order to face whatever was left of the situation at hand.

Fawkes:

The super mutant has a difficult time with subdelty, and would be worried about overwhelming Lone from his own loud tendencies. Should they start becoming uncomfortable while in his presence, he would actually distance himself from them, trying to turn away any additional factors that could be playing a part in their overload. Once they appear to have calmed themself, Fawkes will check in, apologize, and ask if there was anything he could do to prevent such occurrences from happening while they are in his company.

Jericho:

Fucking hell. We live in the Capital Wasteland. The whole damn place is just one big ass stressful situation. Are they serious?! He’d be confused, and a little pissed off, but if he has a soft spot for anyone, it’s Lone. Dammit. He won’t really know what to do, but he’ll try his best to cover them and keep them from harm’s way as they attempt to calm down and deal with their overload. Afterwards, he’ll gruffly ask if they’re okay, telling them that what they did could’ve gotten them killed, his expression would be a combination of sternness and annoyance, but his body would betray him as it shook in relief at the sight of his companion standing uninjured in front of him. Jericho would nod for the pair to continue on their way impatiently, but his eyes wouldn’t leave Lone as they set off in front of him, concern shining in their depths when he knew no one was there to see it.

[nxcronomicxn]

Personality Data in NieR: Automata

Alright, so I know I’m super late to the NieR train (like,, uber late, even. I just finished Automata a month or so ago and am just starting Replicant lol) but I’ve been chewing through the light novels and something that was pointed out to me got me thinking. Spoilers for Long Story Short/Short Story Long/YoRHa Boys abound, be wary. This is gonna be a kind of stream of consciousness so bear with me.

The numbers in YoRHa classifications are indicative of their personality type (at least for later models. for A2′s squadron they were both personality and combat class); we don’t get many examples of this in game or in supplementary canon, but there are enough to provoke thought. No. 21s (21O and 21S (both the one from YoRHa boys and the one from the Pearl Harbor descent)) are calm and logical with little tolerance for nonsense, No. 9s (9S, Lab No. 9, and 9H) are bright and kind with an insatiable curiosity and a penchant for drastic personality shifts... hell, you could even argue that the No. 3s we get (3A from YoRHa boys and 3S who is the server admin for the Bunker) have similarly abrasive personalities as well despite us not knowing that much about the latter.

I say all that to say that the personality type of the androids that we arguably see the most (No. 2s) is very... vague. A2 was sweet and a little ditzy at the beginning of her deployment but turned hard and jaded after the destruction of the Mount Ka’ala servers and the death of all of her comrades. 2B is cold and closed off for the most part, only warming up to 9S (and always coming to regret it later). 2D is very detached and aloof, mostly because of his true designation and isolation from most other YoRHa. In almost all of their cases, their coldness is something learned, not something they start with as a baseline personality trait. So, it begs the question; what brings all these No. 2s together?

Attachment (and self doubt, but that’s another post for another time). All of these androids form attachments to the people around them at the drop of the hat. 2B has 9S, 2D has 9H, and A2 has... so many people that i sort of lost track while reading Short Story Long. You could also paint it as a fierce, unwavering loyalty; especially for 2B and 2D, given their true classification as E models. This loyalty/ease of attachment gets in the way of their duties constantly, to the point where they’re reprimanded by command for not fulfilling them (or, in 2D’s case, decommissioned entirely and swept under the rug). Similarly, in A2′s case, her attachments to the resistance members she met alongside her own squadron are what drive her and her hardened heart. Getting vengeance for them by killing every machine lifeform she can is her reason to live and keep fighting. 

This whole thing is probably a super reach, but it’s still something interesting (and sad, at least to me) to think about. 

[amphtaminedreams]

Sitting Front Row at...(On a Budget Obvs): Lookbook no.15

Hey to anyone reading!

And welcome to my fave lookbook I’ve done in a longggg ass time! Yes, that’s partially because it involved making collages and doing the low effort work of scouring Vogue Runway for “research purposes”, but I promise, that statement wasn’t made out of COMPLETE laziness-I am super happy with it too. It’s been a good use of pre-part-lockdown-lift time in the interim between that brief period of Christmas celebrations and eateries finally fucking opening again because let’s be honest, I always knew I was gonna get distracted by oat milk vanilla lattes and veggie all day breakfasts once I could actually sit down with them at my fave local cafe. You could say I was very much operating on a self-imposed deadline.

The “what I would wear to sit front row at...[insert designer here]” TikTok/Instagram reel trend was something I wanted to get on board with ever since I first saw one and whilst the option of doing my own live action take-I really cannot bear the thought of having to edit footage of myself awkwardly attempting to sit nonchalantly in front of a camera for hours on end-was off the cards considering my complete lack of screen presence, I decided a Tumblr text post would work just as well, and if not even better in a way. Given the absence of the time limitations you face when you’re making a reel or a TikTok I thought it’d be cool to present the looks as part of a mini moodboard for each designer which adds a bit of context to each look even if you aren’t familiar with their past collections and establishes the general vibe of the brand I’m attempting to replicate. Not to sound snotty or as if I am the font of all knowledge on anything high fashion related but even with my amateur knowledge I noticed that as the video trend took off and was adopted by big name influencers, it became less about the average person putting their own personal spin on the aesthetic of the labels we can’t ordinarily afford and more about them building outfits that only vaguely resemble the general public perception of the brand around the real corresponding (and often gifted and thus inaccessible to someone who doesn’t makes thousands for a sponsored post) pieces they own SO I thought I’d take the trend back to its roots and get a bit resourceful. All that being said, in no particular order, here are the outfits I would wear to sit front row at Gucci, Vera Wang, Miu-Miu, Marc Jacobs, Dolce & Gabbana, Brock Collection, Alexander McQueen, Etro, Burberry aaaand Saint Laurent based on their past collections and guess what? They didn’t cost a shit tonne of money :-)

-disclaimer: will include an asterisk before any new purchases if from a high street store though to be honest, I don’t think there are any, we shall see! I do include where I got old purchases from in case anyone wants to search anything on Depop/Ebay-

1. Saint Laurent (formerly Yves Saint Laurent)

-blazer from identityparty on Depop, pleather trousers from Zara, jewellery from Dolls Kill-

I know technically abbreviating Saint Laurent to YSL doesn’t really make much sense anymore given the brand’s name change in 2012, but I’ll always think of it as that in the same way I’ll always associate it with the slightly dishevelled yet simultaneously glitzy rock n’ roll aesthetic. The thing is, whilst YSL hasn’t done anything wildly out of the box for a long time, it’s rare they put a look on the runway that I wouldn’t wear; they never end up being a fashion week standout but the Parisienne take on grunge we’ve seen Anthony Vaccarello establish as his go-to will always have a place in my heart. 

2. Alexander McQueen

-embroidered leather jacket from Ebay (originally Topshop), harness from Amazon, dress from ASOS, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

Alexander McQueen is a brand that is pretty much universally liked, from the historically extravagant and groundbreaking shows the man himself put together to Sarah Burton’s more toned down but still beautiful collections. Obviously I didn’t attempt to do justice to the former, so I tried my hand at putting together a look inspired by Sarah’s blend of delicate femininity and nomadic edge, and it went...okay? Like it’s definitely not my favourite of all the looks because it does give off slightly cheap copycat vibes buuut outside of the context of this lookbook it’s cute.

3. Brock Collection

-boater hat from Ebay, midi skirt from morganogle on Depop, corset top from ownmode_, heels from amybeckett1, bag from Primark-

Brock isn’t as well known a brand as most of the others in this list but I adore everything Laura Vassar Brock does and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to try and channel the vision of one of the OG pioneers of the cottagecore vibe through my own wardrobe. I mean fr, this woman’s work as a steady provider of meadow photoshoot worthy dresses and corsets and skirts is v slept on and I will not stand for it. I will sit in front of a camera and then write a paragraph in my blog post begging anybody who reads to give LVB (an abbreviation I acknowledge is unlikely to catch on because Lisa Vanderpump anybody?) some form of acknowledgement for her services to period romance novel inspired moodboards everywhere.

4. Marc Jacobs

-coat from House of Sunny, white shirt from Retro World Camden, co-ord from Sugar Thrillz, bag from Poppy Lissiman-

If there’s one thing Marc Jacobs always does, it’s COMMITS. TO. HIS. THEME. I just KNOW he has a secret Pinterest with separate boards for every fashion era of the 20th century and he is putting those boards to good use providing us with collections that are as immersive as they are eclectic year in year out. 

5. Miu Miu

-beret from H&M, hair clips from H&M, jewellery from Primark, coat from mollyyemmaa on Depop, shirt from YesStyle, sweater vest from YesStyle, skirt from Depop, diamanté belt from Brandy Melville, shoes from Koi Vegan Footwear-

We all like to talk about Bratz dolls and Monster High dolls and Barbies as fashion inspo but can we all focus on Cabbage Patch dolls for two secs so as to acknowledge the fact that a Miu Miu collection is basically all their fits grown up? And made boujie as fuck? If I want my fix of Wes Anderson meets Scream Queens (what a combo) inspired outfits, if I want prissy and girlish but also glam, if I want to look like a bratty rich girl whose one redeeming quality is her eye for vintage clothes, I know where to look and that is the Miu Miu section of Vogue Runway. 

6. Vera Wang

-blazer as in no.1, velvet bralet from catdegaris on Depop, harness from Amazon, skirt from Ebay, knee high socks from Ebay, lace up boots from Ebay-

Vera Wang’s RTW aesthetic, a blend of the ethereal, ultra-feminine bridal designs she’s known for and British style punk rock influences, is something I feel has only become firmly established in recent years but it is everything I ever wanted and more. I always find myself trying to balance the part of me that loves everything girly and delicate and pretty and the part of me that would love to be in a biker gang and Vera’s collections are always an inspirational reminder of just how well it can be done.

7. Burberry

-coat from charity shop, suit from emmafisher3 on Depop, top from simranindia, shirt underneath from Zara, jewellery from ASOS-

Now I’m not gonna lie, I’m not the biggest fan of Burberry but there have been a few looks over the past few years I’ve really liked and as someone who owns numerous trench coats, high necks and way too much plaid, I thought it’d be an easy one to replicate. Plus, if you can count on Riccardo Tisci for nothing else you at least can rely on him giving you some layering inspo which is very much needed in a country where it literally just snowed in April and where my plans for today have just been cancelled because the iPhone weather app did a Karen Smith and didn’t predict rain for today right up until it started raining so thanks for that one British meteorologists. Your incompetence strikes again.

8. Etro

-corset from Urban Outfitters, vinyl trench coat from Topshop, boots from Ebay, black slip dress from kaoanaoleinik on Depop, fur trim afghan coat from louisemarcella-

Like with Brock Collection, Etro isn’t a hugely well known brand, but it is always one of my favourites-to add a spanner into the works of any attempts to cultivate a firm sense of personal style, I live for the ornate Bohemian look that Etro does so well just as much as I love both grungy and girly pieces, and so I really wanted to include a brand whose collections go down that route. It was a toss-up between this and Zimmerman, the flirtier, free spirit counterpart to the dark romance of Veronica Etro’s designs; her vision really shines through the most when it comes to the brand’s winter collections, imo, and given that I live in a country where winter or some weather state resembling it does seem to take up 70% of the year, I did decide on channelling her work rather than that of the equally talented Nicky and Simone Zimmermann this time round.

9. Dolce & Gabbana

-flower crown from ASOS, tiara from Amazon, earrings from YesStyle, dress from alicealderdice1 on Depop, opera gloves from Ebay, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

D&G is a brand I felt really conflicted about doing-I don’t include their current collections in my fashion week reviews based on the actions of designers Stefano Gabbana and Domenico Dolce over the last few years because I don’t want to mitigate the collective effort of fashion critics to push them towards irrelevancy. Though people like to claim the brand has turned a corner since Lucio Di Rosa was brought on board as the manager of celebrity and VIP relations last year (they are as prolific a force on red carpet fashion as ever), we haven’t seen any real meaningful apologies or reparations made by Dolce and Gabbana themselves which once again leaves us in the all too familiar quandary of whether or not we can separate the art from the artist especially when it is far too much of a simplification to only credit the two men for their work given there’s a whole design team behind them. There are a LOT of shitty people working in fashion, the whole industry is a bit of a cesspit if we’re honest, but I don’t think that should stop us from at least being able to appreciate old collections if we make sure we aren’t engaging in any kind of promotion of current works whilst doing so. D&G are a brand of high highs and low lows, with looks that range from hideously ugly to showstoppingly beautiful in a single show-when the looks are good, they are GOOD-and their presence in the fashion world is most definitely felt whether we want it to be or not. It would just be shit to refuse to recognise the existence of some real iconic runway moments, the practical work that went into the ornate detail and opulence that helped cement D&Gs place in sartorial history, the styling that’s made goddesses and fairytale queens out of modern day women as they’ve glided down catwalks, the far more extravagant and, let’s be real, sexier version of our world D&G shows have transported us to in the past. Will I talk about D&G ever again? No, and if you Google the scandals their brand has faced over the past few years, there are more than enough reasons why, but just this once I did want to pay homage to some of the collections, the snippets of which I saw on my Tumblr dashboard back when I was about 13, that first got me into fashion.

10. Gucci

-fur coat from Topshop, clips from Zaful, glasses from Ebay, dress from gracewright246 on Depop, shirt from Boohoo, blazer from charity shop-

Now last but, if you ever read any of my fashion week reviews (the likelihood of someone actually having read one of them and reading this is incredibly, incredibly slim lol, I wouldn’t read me either) you’ll know, definitely not least, is Gucci because Alessandro Michele comes through every!! single!! time!!

The man is truly the king of quirky throwback maximalism and it hurts my heart that a lot of people seem to think of it only as a brand associated with ostentatious displays of wealth. Year after year since Michele was made creative director he has released purposeful, fully-fleshed out collections which unravel themselves to us on the runway like time capsules containing the belongings of the rich and whimsical and yes that can sometimes result in outfits which are *ahem* a bit mismatched but it doesn’t matter because through fashion he manages to take us to a vivid version of the past where people could dress as freely and lavishly as they wanted to, into the wardrobe of a person unaffected by the side-eyeing of others. You get the impression he doesn’t design so much as plays around with some kind of enchanted dress up box and takes inspiration from there and to give that impression is only a credit to his talent-to make outfits so kooky and extravagant look like they were meant to be takes a boldness and genuine love for clothes that I do tend to feel a lot of the big name designers have lost in the pursuit of profit and the necessary placating of the dying customer base that keeps that coming in. Of course I'm not for a second saying Gucci does not care about profit, but at the very least, they have on board a creative director who genuinely has fun with what they’re putting out there and wants to make a statement too and that really shows; you can rest on your laurels and sell tweed boucle jackets to rich old white women for eternity but nobody’s going to mention your brand name and the word groundbreaking in the same sentence ever again unless they’re talking about what it was a century ago, you know (mentioning no names...unless...did I hear someone say Chanel)? That feels like such a shady way to end, lol, but I’m sure said brand will survive-to be fair, they’ve been included in every other What I’d Wear to Sit Front Row At video I’ve seen so although I’m always slagging them off for doing the saaaaame thinggggg year after year, for that same reason their aesthetic is instantly recognisable and so will always be a source of imitation. There are obviously pros and cons to being a brand which constantly reinvents itself but I think it’s totally possible to do that whilst maintaining an overall mission, and Alessandro Michele’s work at Gucci demonstrates that with ease.

Anyway, if you got to here, thanks for reading! I know I’m super behind on this whole TikTok trend and I know a Tumblr post instead of a video is a bit of a cop out but all the real, physically awkward ones out there know that watching yourself back is excruciating lmao, so I hope this does the trick. After this, I’m gonna get back to the reviewing S/S21 collections post though knowing me I’ll probs take a few days to get back into that because I feel like since I left full-time education (RIP me going back in a few months) writing continuously like this for any longer than about 15 mins fries what brain cells I have left. Again, thank you for reading and if you are, sending many good vibes your way! Stay safe!

Lauren x

[pinkhairedlily]

Chapter 6 - Student Council President Sakura

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“When’s your birthday, Sasuke?” Naruto asked unprompted. He was eating an onigiri in one hand and writing in a notebook with another. “Captain Haru gave me a journal and told me to fill in the dates.”

“Why are you treating it like a slam book?”

“What’s a slam book? Why are you even changing the topic?”

“July 23.”

Naruto went silent for a moment as he jotted down Sasuke’s name. “Oh, last week? During our sleepover?”

“You mean, hostage sleepover.”

“Ah shit. We didn’t get you a present. Sorry, grumpy.” Naruto’s face was sincerely apologetic and Sasuke was on the verge of nonchalantly assuring him that it was all right when he heard his following reply. “But make sure you get me one okay. It will be on October 10.”

“I wish I was allowed to physically harm you right now but your training next week will suffice,” Sasuke jested right back. “I’ll put in a word with Haru to make you suffer.” He would have said more clapbacks if they didn’t hear loud footsteps running their way.

Their two heads popped just a few inches above the bushes that lined behind the fence and saw a disheveled Sakura catching her breath with bent knees and her arms full of folders. Sasuke surmised she might have come from a council meeting.

“It’s Sakura – “ Sasuke covered Naruto’s loud mouth with his palm.

Her phone rang inside her skirt’s pockets, and her expression panicked when she saw the caller id. The folders fumbled out of her grasp when she answered it. “Oh hello, Kakashi-sensei.”

Both the boys’ brows raised in curiosity when her voice went a pitch higher.

“Ah, I’m actually out of the campus right now, Sensei. Got an errand to run. I’ll see you for consultations…..soon?” Then she ended the call. They all heard another set of footsteps nearing their location, and Sakura repeatedly said I’m screwed to herself.

Naruto wrestled out of Sasuke’s headlock and pulled a surprised Sakura inside their hiding place. The latter grumbled but quickly gathered the folders from the ground and followed suit. Three heads now looked over the bushes, and true enough, Kakashi appeared in the clearing with his phone in his hand. “That’s funny. I thought I heard her voice here.”

When they were sure he was out of their sight and earshot, Sasuke signaled a thumbs up, and Naruto, not missing a beat, started with the obvious question. “Why are you hiding from our mathematics teacher?”

Sakura blushed with intensity, her cheeks the color of cherry tomatoes with a ripeness Sasuke liked the most. She flushed so intensely she couldn’t hide it for her sake. The thought of wanting to have that kind of privilege crossed his mind. “Uh, he wanted a report from me, but I wasn’t able to finish it.” Like the self-aware person that she was, she immediately got her bearings and recognized the place. “This is behind the library.”

“It’s Sasuke’s favorite hiding place until I barged in. And now, it’s yours too.” Naruto grinned at her even when he just revealed this place’s existence to their student council president.

“Shouldn’t you be asking me permission first?” Sasuke arranged the folders first before returning them to Sakura who seemed to calm down a bit.

She laughed dryly. “Technically, it’s public property so we don’t need your permission…grumpy.”

Naruto erupted in laughter while Sasuke closed his eyes in annoyance. Two loud-mouths in what was supposed to be in his safe space and yet all he felt was just mild annoyance. Stopping his thoughts before they ran him aground, he rummaged through their storage bin and found an extra sandwich he bought this morning and the last pack of his cherry tomato juice.

He passed the food to her and gave her a little bit of scolding. “At least have your lunch first before making fun of me.”

“You’re really giving her a tomato juice?” Naruto never could hide his disgust for certain food. “Don’t tell me this is your rite of passage.”

Sasuke glared at the blonde, forcing him to shut up. “Bring any more people here, and I’ll tell your captain to drag you to hell.” That wasn’t so difficult, given that Haru has taken a liking to him, for what he didn’t know. He just treated him like a big brother would, like Itachi would.

Sakura took a sip in the middle of their banter, and she emitted a surprised sound. “So this is what it tasted like? It’s actually good.”

That was the first time someone liked what he liked, and he vaguely realized he was waiting for her opinion. With that, he had trouble suppressing the smile that started to form on his face, so he looked away and mustered his focus on the nearby yells of a practicing dragonboat team.

“Oh, I forgot, belated happy birthday Sasuke.”

He strengthened his resolve not to turn his head just as quickly because he was sure the shock was visible in his face. He was so taken aback he didn’t hear Naruto ask Sakura where she learned of it.

“I came across our class records during the meeting and saw the date. Sucks we weren’t able to get you a present. Anyway, I gotta run. I have another presentation to the principal for a personal project.” Sakura finished off her sandwich in one bite and ran out of the secluded space.

Naruto stared after her disappearing figure, the bunched-up juice carton and sandwich wrapper in his hands. “I should make her a decent lunch sometime. I don’t think she’s eating well.”

But Sasuke had another observation in mind. “Why didn’t you ask for her birthday?”

“I know already. I asked Hinata about it.”

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

Sakura tried to catch up with the baseball captain in the seniors’ hallways before she would lose him to his after classes dates with Hinata. “Haru, wait up please.”

His brown hair has grown longer to hide his undercut which Naruto wanted to replicate as he often mentioned in between their conversations in classes. It was actually a wonder how the usually demure Hinata gravitated towards Haru who had a strong personality. His annoyed gaze softened when he realized it was her calling him, his smile turning into a wide grin as she raced through the halls.

“No running, Ms. President,” he chided.

Sakura playfully punched his shoulder, her fist’s impact light as she struggled to catch her breath. “Can I at least have some of your time? I promise I won’t take long.”

The captain’s face took on an incredulous look. “How the tables have turned.”

They found themselves on a rooftop, away from the incidental eavesdroppers (if there were any), and moreover they needed some quiet space to talk about important matters. The first of which was the baseball team’s finances.

“I gotta hand this to you rather straightforwardly. The board didn’t foresee your qualification in the preliminaries hence they didn’t allot a big budget for your team – not for training, not for travel expenses, not for uniforms, and miscellaneous expenses.” He towered over her, her height a third short from his shoulders, but when he hunched them forward and leaned against the railings, he was almost shoulder to shoulder with her. “So what are your plans?”

Back in junior high, he would often ruffle her hair out of her immaculate ponytail, and this closeness wasn’t really odd because they were from the same town and grew on the same block. Distance just crept in as they made more friends and entered different circles.

“My personal savings,” Haru simply replied. “Our coach will chip in half of our projected expenses so we’re good to go.”

Sakura sighed. “As always, you don’t like to rely on anyone.”

“We’re not really too far from each other, Sakura. So what’s your plan anyway?” Haru turned with his back this time against the railing.

“Pass-the-Hat.”

Haru nodded. “And your savings.”

Sakura shook her head vehemently. “Hell no.”

“Gears are turning in your head, and I can see you’ll fill in a part with your savings. Stop it, Haruno.”

“I’m telling you, I won’t give you a part of my savings. Anyway – “

“Anyway? There’s more?” Haru hastily looked at his watch to check the time, almost formed a reply, and thought better of it, hiding his wrist from his view.

“I saw your career sheet form. You know you could always try to apply for an athletic scholarship, right?” If she can hazard a guess, Haru may not be planning at all to proceed to college. He always has his father’s fishing business to take over back in their town.

“No association would vet for a player who only qualified for prelims on his senior year.” Haru playfully ruffled her hair, the gesture she thought was once forgotten between them. “So don’t feel sorry for me. I already have Hinata to deal with.”

“You sound so pessimistic when you’re just going away for a year until she decides to follow you. Your story’s almost like a fairytale,” Sakura scoffed.

“First of all, long distance relationships don’t work and second and last of all, there’s her father to think about.” Haru let out a long sigh. “Believe me, Sakura, I want to make it work, but I feel like the distance between us had already set in even before I go.”

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

Haru was right. While Pass-the-Hat garnered lots of amounts enough to shoulder the logistics of the training of the baseball team before the semis, there wasn’t enough to pay for their new equipment. She could ask the teachers, but she knew Haru and the coach have already asked for prior favors. At the last minute before the trip got cancelled, Sakura anonymously put in two-thirds of her savings into the donations pool which the captain got wind of and somehow reached Kakashi.

While she was successful in avoiding him for the first few days of the school trip while Naruto and his team was in Fukuoka, he caught her alone as she was reading the markers outside the walls of a castle.

“Haruno Sakura.” His voice startled her. She turned around, like a good student that she was, and waved a bit too enthusiastically. “Mind telling me why you won’t talk to me outside of our council meetings? Did I say any directive that offended you or overworked you? I need to have an open communication with you kids.”

Kids. “Ah, I was just a little busy these past weeks,” Sakura assured him. She nervously fidgeted with his rubber band that was still on her wrist. His eyes followed her movements, and she hid them quickly behind her back, afraid of what he would say if he realized.

“I heard from the principal that he greenlighted your personal project, and that you will be presenting this to the board next week for a possible funding. You accomplished that on top of the feats you pulled to bring the baseball team to the semis.” As Kakashi recounted her accomplishments, she couldn’t help the blush that rose to her cheeks. She was finding it difficult to say an excuse right now. “So I’m returning your personal donation.”

Sakura stared at him directly, never mind the raven irises that drowned her in undivided attention. “What?” He smiled, highlighting even more his mole, and she gasped, breathless at the sight.

“Don’t worry your pretty head over these things. You’re too young for this. I’ll have the funds downloaded to your bank, all right.” Kakashi patted her head softly and disappeared in the meandering crowds.

She slapped the rubber band against the thin skin of her wrist repeatedly. She didn’t know whether she should feel grateful that her savings were back or feel angry that she was patronized because of her age. Didn’t Kakashi know that teenagers grow up faster than their actual age and that she had every right to worry her pretty head? When will he start seeing her as she was?

Her self-deprecating thoughts ran awry when someone took hold of her wrist that has gone red from the slap of the rubber band.

For someone who alternated between being grim-faced or stoic, Sasuke’s hand was gentle and kind. She knew that ever since she saw him in the café, all the good things in him seeping out through cracks in his wall. Right now, she knew he was worried about the supportless baseball team.

“They’re losing, aren’t they?” Sakura suppressed the overwhelming emotions from her earlier interaction with Kakashi and concocted a plan in her head.

She coordinated with the guides and had them add a stop at the baseball field at Fukuoka for one last hurrah for the team.

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

Thirty minutes later, their school witnessed how the top teams decimated Naruto’s team. No innings won, batters relentless, and Haru got injured. Sakura, sensing the dampened atmosphere among the student body, rallied yells, earning surprised looks from the team members.

Through the crowds, Sasuke saw Hinata, her fingers twirling the ends of her long braid, and her eyes scanning the place for her boyfriend…until her gaze shifted to Naruto. He traversed the space to stand beside her, breaking his own rule to remain uninvolved in other people’s affairs.

But he owed this to Naruto and Haru who never failed to include him in after practice dinners and effectively kept the gaping depression in his apartment away.

“Your boyfriend has a broken arm, but you’re looking at Naruto.” He said, even before he could announce his presence to her.

Hinata turned her face to him and repeated his words. “My boyfriend has a broken arm but I cannot look at broken limbs for too long. Thanks for pointing that out.”

“There’s a second statement after my but.”

“Hmm, my eyes just probably gravitated to him unknowingly. But it couldn’t be helped, right? He just has this bright, sunshine energy.” Hinata shrugged, seemingly confused by her words as well.

Sasuke wanted to prod more but her eyes narrowed at something behind him. When he glanced back, he saw Sakura stood in tiptoes as she hugged a downtrodden Naruto. If he wasn’t so sad, he would have blushed and awkwardly pushed his crush away, but for this instance, he choked back his sobs and eventually cried on her shoulder.

“Maybe the student council can also support other teams which are gearing up for nationals. You may suffer backlash if favoritism becomes obvious.”

He scoffed at Hinata’s advice. “I’ll tell our student council president that.”

Sasuke made his way to the blonde and pinkette, his arms engulfing both of their heads in a very rare hug. He felt Sakura stiffen beneath him while Naruto changed shoulders and cried openly against Sasuke’s shirt.

This he didn’t mind, as long as both of their faces were hidden from her view.

AO3 LINK | NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER 7

[ephemerlskies]

the lighthouse | jjk

⇢ pairing: reader x jungkook

⇢ genre: one shot, fluff (what's new), strangers to "lovers", mutual pining, so much sap you're gonna have to shower after reading this, ANGST, jungkook is a literary scholar (?) of sorts

⇢ word count: 12k

⇢ warnings: as stated before, it's Cheesy with a capital C, lots of introspection, brief mentions of death, explicit language, mommy issues, (((major plot twist)))

⇢ summary: you and jungkook had one thing in common: you were both lost souls stagnant in the search of some fulfillment. the one of many differences was that your story had been written on your sleeves, while jungkook’s was a story needed to be unriddled. was this going to be another disappointing chapter in the book of unattainable desires or could your encounter with the mysterious man who lived in the lighthouse lead to something much more?

a/n: i'm super proud of how this turned out even though it ripped my heart out of my chest... this was probably my favorite fic to write and ahh im so happy to release it!!!! i hope you lovely little angels enjoy!! :) <3

What makes us human? This question posed by your philosophy teacher had been stalking your thoughts hours after class had ended. As the rain padded against your umbrella, you piled in a few answers to this question. 

What makes us human? A question that would seemingly have a clear cut answer, but when you got down to it, there was no distinct characteristic that differentiates humans from other animals. It was easy to say something such as how we have complex linguistics or industrialized civilization, but that is to discredit how the packs of wolves howl to each other, the birds sing from tree to tree, the beavers diligently construct their dams, or the dirt cities in which ants build their own societies not much different than humans. 

You pondered the idea that we love so deeply, even when it is often unreturned, but there is no denying the way a mother bear strikes down any and all enemies to protect her baby cub is anything other than true love.

So, what makes us human? You sat on a bench placed on the sidelines where you could witness small scenes of the lives of passing strangers. This sonder might be what makes us human. The knowledge that each person lives and loves and cries and fears and speaks and dies in ways with which you will never begin to familiarize. Life continues on around you despite how unimportant it may seem to the rest. 

Does a lion waste any moment of his time wondering how the deer had found its way to the shallow pond, whilst preparing to strike? Of course not. 

You watched a couple clinging onto each other and wondered where they met. You then were captured in the peace of an old woman prodding around in the grass with her golden retriever; perhaps it was her last companion. Then, your eyes drifted towards the two boys pushing each other over but with the gentleness one could only assume that was out of friendship or perhaps brotherhood.

And then you saw him. 

Gentle fingers tracing the stacks of magazines lined in a perfect column; an arm that disappeared into the sleeve of his dark, wool coat. A tweed newsboy hat sheltering his eyes, and deep chestnut Oxford shoes stepping lightly, nearing a tiptoe, between the cracks of each cement plate, weathered by the infinite other shoes that tread on those very grounds. A body so magnetizing and moving as if it were a secret, and you couldn’t imagine why no one else had been ingested by the enigma that is this man. You longed for him to reveal these secrets that hid underneath his hat and coat, though if he wouldn’t, which he most likely wouldn’t, you had no problem with seeking them out yourself.

In a city filled with young souls draped in modern streetwear, jeans, bright colors, and converse or Dr. Martens or perhaps high heels, catching this needle in the haystack plugged into every synapse of wonderment. The muted tones of his clothing gleamed the brightest out of the sea of strangers.

This is what made you human. Your desire to know everything that lies barely beyond your wingspan. Everything you could hold was close to nothing in meaning, and everything your arms could not reach was always all you could ever want. The rise of your legs, the way you replicated his every movement, running your fingers along the stack of magazines, fastidious prancing in the spaces between the cracks, and your subtle pursuit of the man just out of reach was what made you human. 

Bodies bustling through your path failed to untether you from this chase. It felt far beyond your power to stop yourself from the rising excitement and allure in your chest that pulled you towards him. The man was quick and swift to dodge oncoming bystanders, however your eyes became a missile fixed on a target. 

The unexpected turn he took had you floundering for you had been trapped behind an older lady and a couple walking side by side. Sadly, your memorization of the streets and landmarks had been admisal, so you found yourself in uncharted territory. Each road sign and corner store had been displayed like a foreign language, and you mentally cursed yourself for letting your silly lust for learning what shouldn’t be learned lead you into this difficult position.  

You stood defeated, the man had evaded your fragile trail behind him with ease. You lost him, or maybe he got away.

It was still midday, prompting you to make an end of this means. Your eyes discovered the coast set along the edge of the town, and though this was the furthest you had ever gone, you dared to go further. This mishap of yours granted you the opportunity to introduce yourself to the shore, and the waves have always delighted your interest. So, you found it just to walk down to the sand. The sound of the water pressing into the wet sand was calming; it was something you could find yourself getting used to. Luck presented itself kindly, giving you a moment unencumbered by the rain that had ceased not long after you stepped foot on the beach. 

You took this time to be with yourself and sort out all the problems that have been worrying your mind these past few weeks. Your best friend, Chaeyoung, had an upcoming birthday that had snuck up on you before you had the chance to even think about getting her a card, let alone a gift or celebration. And you would be disappointed with yourself if you failed to outdo last year’s efforts. There was also the test in your Chemistry class scheduled only a day after her birthday, curtailing your plans of staying out late because there was no way you would allow for anything less than your very most on this exam. Then, there was the essay on what makes us human that you denied any chance of regaining priority to your list of worries, knowing it would gnaw at your mind until you forcibly shut it out.

And the man that willed you to seek him out, and that wore the title of his stories as if he intentionally wished to spark your wonder to learn them.

That should have been the last of your worries. It should have been. 

The day began to fade into a warm, orange dusk. Skies once gloomy and grey now covered in blankets of clouds reflecting the sun’s gentle rays and you found yourself reunited with the calming feeling similar to when you first stepped on the beach. 

Not long after registering how far you had traveled along the shore, you noticed a quaint lighthouse with a house-like structure at the base. The off-white stones cemented up until a red paneled roof covered it, tempting you to know what lies behind those walls.

It looked like it was about to rain again.

Are lighthouses closed off from the public? 

There’s a house, there must be someone inside that could help me find my way home. 

All these comments to yourself made to premise the conclusion of entrance into this lighthouse. As you approached the door, framed in oak lining and painted red, the clouds appeared heavy once again. A few drops of condensation was enough persuasion that what was about to be done was for the good of your well being. You pushed it open and a creak echoed around the room inside. 

The walls were covered with stone bricks and there was one table in the center of the room. Other than that, this house was barren and if it weren’t for the second door that you guessed led to the lighthouse you would have called a car to take you home. 

Your walk was pensive and mouse-like; there was some quality about this structure that made you feel like you weren’t alone and sudden movements would disrupt an established peace. Your hand turned the cold, gold-plated handle and pulled open the door, soon being met with a warm gust of air that engulfed you into the lighthouse. 

This part of the building was exponentially more decorated than the room that preceded it. A staircase cemented into the sides of the lighthouse plastered with shelves upon shelves of books spiraled along the cylindrical walls, paired with dull lanterns that illuminated each level of railing had you drawn into its magnificence.

You stared up to what looked like a platform that held a place in which one would rest and look out into the ocean. There was no one in sight, and you assumed permission to climb up the staircase. Your eyes scanned each spine, creased and slightly warped from the moisture of the air, like they had been read over and over again. Your breath became heavy and your stare was focused on the books to ignore the dizziness settling in.

Reaching the top of the staircase came as a blessing, your lungs were close to catching fire. There were two armchairs, side by side, one fashioned a knitted blanket and the other was used as a table for five to seven or so novels, and the walls behind buried in high stacks of more books. There had to be at least seventy in the first half of piles you accounted for, and before you had the chance to snoop around the rest of the room you heard a voice coated with alarm behind you.

“What are you doing in here?” Your breath halted as you turned around, about to explain why you had let yourself into this building, however no amount of words could fully justify this invasive act. 

You recognized the wool coat and the tweed hat now resting in his hand instead of on his head. His eyes were shrouded in a youthful innocence despite his attire that implied he was a sophisticate of some sort. 

“Are you going to answer me or do I have to call the police?” The boom of his voice was chilling, sending shivers along your neck and chest. 

“Sorry, I’m-” How could you possibly defend your intrusion without sounding juvenile or absolutely insane? “I was… It was raining and I just was walking on the beach so-”

“So, you decided breaking and entering was better than getting a little wet?” His barbed responses hurdled how you plaintively stuttered around excuses. Despite his efforts to seem menacing, you couldn't let go of his boyish facial features. It was absolutely astonishing to you that someone who looked young enough to attend your own college and handsome enough to garner quite a bit of attention had anything to do with this dingy, aged lighthouse.

“No, I was going to come in here to ask for directions. I’m lost.” The pitiful temperament of this comment was not intentional, but the man who now stood in front of you felt itched by it. He couldn't ignore how your legs trembled, partly from the cold but also because of his raised voice directed at you, and how that admittedly aroused some guilt.

“It’s fine. Just-” He sighed deeply, placing his hat on the side table adjacent to the left armchair, “You can just wait here until the rain stops. Though, I have to say it looks unrelenting at the moment.” The man’s attention was captured by how the heavy rain seemed to wage war against the raging tides. You caught a glimpse of a smile. The slightest upturn of the corner of his lips almost compelling you to reveal you had spotted him in the town earlier today, and that you found yourself enamoured with his every movement, and he was ironically the reason you were stuck here.

“Are you sure? I can go, I shouldn't have been here in the first place.” The words escaped from your mouth quickly as if they were trying to race each other to be spoken.

“No, I said it’s fine.” The suddenness of this offer hushed you. He then removed his wool coat, unveiling the clothes he wore beneath it. The burgundy crew neck sweater layered tastefully over a collared shirt was just as old fashioned as every other article of clothing he sported. How intriguing.

“I'm sorry.” Your muscles grew sore from suppressing how aggressively you would have been shaking from the cold. “Thank you.” Him granting you shelter gave you motive to keep the umbrella that would suffice to protect you from the rain under wraps. The option he presented was far more favorable.

“Sit down. Please, use this blanket.” He gestured towards the throw draped over the right armchair. His eyes avoided you as much as he could manage though you had this glow emulating from your wanting eyes and soft looking skin that crept to the corner of his vision too brightly to ignore. Consequently, this comment soothed both your body and mind for he unguarded a kindness that was hidden when he first spoke to you. 

“My name is ___.” He was facing the window that displayed the sea, now thrashing and falling into itself, and without moving his head, his eyes drifted towards you.

“I know who you are.”

“Wh- How?” Maybe accepting an invite in a secluded lighthouse on the beach wasn’t the safest thing you could be doing on a Friday afternoon. Anxiety pioneered a place in your breathing, turning it rushed and choked.

Before your mind could theorize all the ways in which you could make an escape from this room or how quickly you could use your hidden umbrella as a weapon he said, “I noticed you following me in the town’s square earlier today.” You sighed, releasing the terror that pricked your lungs. If anything, it was he who should be afraid of you.

“I’m not a stalker!” That weak defense was all you could push from your throat before any well constructed explanations could be put forth. 

His laugh, along with his cryptic gaze towards the waves, made you feel even worse about your actions.

“You were just so stunning and I wanted to know what kind of person still wears a newsboy hat without trying to make a statement.” Your lower lip tucked between your teeth stopped the nervous laugh about to spill and expressed worry that the more you tried to explain yourself, the more this man believed you should be charged for stalking not to mention trespassing.

“Stunning?”

“I mean, like, someone I’d want to meet.”

“What were you planning on doing once I stopped somewhere, or noticed you?” He questioned you only because he relished how you were scrambling to a proper defense. He knew you weren’t any threat to him, not many people were, however he enjoyed your chatter more than the silence that would have taken its place.

“I don't know, maybe just… introduce myself?” This sheepish, yet honest, reply had you drowning in humiliation, while the man before you seemed as if he were floating effortlessly along the surface. 

“I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” Relief replaced the worry that he would turn you away, leaving you to the hands of the storm outside. The fact that any other person would have done so led you to believe Jungkook held a lot more compassion than he let on. You held your hand to greet him, finding it only polite to execute this formality. His, however, remained folded behind his back, notably denting your ego as you retracted your hand quicker than you extended it.

“Okay.” You muttered to yourself in slight embarrassment from this trivial rejection. “So, do you live here or something?” Your question was first replied to with a breath of annoyance. Jungkook was kind enough to allow you a sanctuary from the rain, exemption from the intrusion and stalking, and now he found himself having to entertain you.

“Yeah, something like that.” All this disinterested answer did was persist your attempts to break his catatonic gaze. However, his reserve had been solidified steadily over the years, so this venture was going to be tough.

“I didn’t know you could live in a lighthouse?” Your inquiry was spoken with the hopes this would ignite a lasting conversation. 

“It’s not a lighthouse, technically.” Jungkook’s affirmative tone flew right over your head, conjuring even more annoyance that oddly enticed him to continue responding to your dense questions.

“Well, it looks like a lighthouse. It’s shaped like a lighthouse. It’s on the beach, just like a lighthouse.” A chuckle joined the sigh of his breath and his head that shook at your shallow observations. Jungkook eventually turned around and made his way towards the stacks of books, trying to preoccupy himself from whatever this exchange was. “All signs point to this being a lighthouse.”

“Well, it’s not. Lighthouses are meant to send signals to the ships out at sea. This doesn't,” His curt response tickled your amusement, only encouraging you to further aggravate him. “Therefore, not a lighthouse.”

“Okay,” You sounded agreeable, but this was soon followed by a doubtful comment whispered just loud enough for Jungkook’s ear to catch it, “It’s a lighthouse.” He found his stoicism melting away due to your spiteful attitude and conniving giggle in the face of his frustration. You wanted to get a rise out of him, and he knew this, and you were doing a fine job at it.

“It’s not-” His voice elevated with excitement, but he soon tamed the defensiveness threatening to spill from his lips, “Do you want to go back out into the rain?” 

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Though, you sounded all but remorseful. The sly smirk resting on your face matched Jungkook’s satisfied expression, despite these smiles surfacing for different reasons. You couldn’t deny how humorous it was to distemper this man. How all the worries you laid out like the pebbles and seashells on this beach were washed away by the tides. Meanwhile, his grin provided little contribution in masking his enjoyment of your company and relentless curiosity.

You now sat in the right armchair, bundled in the blanket. It was not necessarily a thick blanket, but the chills once disturbing you had dwindled almost immediately. You were still entranced by Jungkook's movements. His hands were now occupied with a book from one of the stacks he’d been eyeing; the way he cradled the book like it was a newborn baby further revealed he had a somewhat protective attitude towards them. 

“What are you reading?” His eyes remained between the pages and lines of the book, but his focus was yet again thieved by your incessant curiosity. Jungkook thought it irritating similarly to how one would find a cat disrupting their owner from work, annoying yet ever so endearing, and adorably distracting.

“I’m not reading, I’m being bothered by you.” His snark was meant to damage your brazen pestering, but unknown to him it merely fueled it.

“Boohoo.” No matter how elementary that retort was, you still managed to fever him and hold hostage his attention.

“I’m reading The Odyssey.” Jungkook surrendered to you, placing the book on his lap that was now sitting in the armchair next to yours. “Why do you ask so many questions?” His eyes laid on you the same way they laid on the sea, filled to the brim with fascination. 

“I just wanted to know what you were reading.” Even when he expressed a clear indication that he was past your nonsense, it went unnoticed like the particles of dust flitting around the darkened room. This oblivion of yours prompted your next question. “Could you read it to me?”

His eyebrows furrowed at this request. Jungkook had already found himself exhausted by your persistence, and predicted ‘no’ would not be accepted as a viable answer. He just sighed and began to read aloud.

His soft voice somehow drowned out the sea’s commotion. The words flowed off his tongue as if he wrote the book himself; such poise for a young man lured you to immerse yourself in his narration and time grew more and more abstract. 

After a bit, Jungkook paused to examine how you'd received his reading and he was pleased to find your chin resting in your palm and your eyes and ears fixed onto him as if he were reading the gospel. This made it difficult, impossible, to deny entry for the subtle blush working its way on his cheeks.

“Are you satisfied?” He closed the book, peering out of the window to check if the weather had eased since you arrived. Though the intensity of the storm hadn’t lightened in the slightest, there was a new tranquility adopted by the drizzling sky waters that sank and fed into the waves.

“Never.” You replied with a hungered conviction twisted into your words, “What happens next?”

Jungkook laughed in shock of how eager you were to hear more of this story. It was unlike someone who wasn’t well versed in literature to genuinely enjoy listening to this archaic novel. 

“Why are you laughing? Read more!” Your whine came off a bit childlike, but succeeded in its goal. 

“It’s getting late.” He commented with a gentle sternness, though he proceeded to reopen the book. Your peculiar attention naturally drew him to oblige your desires. Even in the midst of a storm, even as the hours slipped by and the evening had been born, he continued to read.

You settled back into your chair in rejoice that you’d get to spend a bit more time with Jungkook. He was practically a stranger, and still there was a climate of comfort and intimacy that took the place of the crisp, winter air when he read from his book. He felt it too, and that was reason enough to allow you this company.

Throughout the chapter he had been working to finish, he snuck glances to find your eyes growing heavy with sleep as each page turned. Jungkook halted from reading and was trapped in the flush of your cheeks and lips and how your mouth hung slightly ajar as you inhaled the cold, wet air of the lighthouse. The puffs of breath that billowed from your lips had him yearning to know a warmth so full with life and curiosity.

“Are-” Jungkook tensed at the idea of disturbing your sleep, as if you hadn’t barged into his life without a hint of permission. “Are you asleep?”

Your head lifted slowly, then held stiff to maintain consciousness, “I was just resting my eyes. I’m not tired, I want you to read more.” You said this in spite of knowing you would drift asleep if he did.

“I think we are done reading for now.” The book closed for the last time, his hands pressing against the cover to seal his assurance. “You should head home.”

“But, I don’t know how the book ends.” This weak argument came from a place of jaded desperation. Regardless, he almost fell victim to your subdued urgency but any sensibility he could garner warned him not to allow this. You were quite obviously tired and he prefered you be safe in your own bed before the night advanced.

“Well, that’s because I only just started this book and it is very, very long.” Jungkook hoped this would usher you out even if that meant the return of loneliness would seep between the pillows of the right armchair after you left him with his solitude. 

“Well, I won’t be able to get these questions out of my mind unless I finish the book.” Another weak argument drained from your inventory of excuses. Maybe a change of subject would present an opportunity to linger in his company. “Also, why do you live here all alone?”

“I just do. I feel like I don’t have to explain this to you.” Jungkook was bewildered at his admission to give you, an unannounced and uninvited visitor, any explanations and still he was close to doing exactly that. “You’re quite invested in my personal life.” As much as that was true, his withdrawal from your curiosity wasn't all that effortful. Living in secrecy and desolation had the feeling of companionship nearly vanishing from his memory and you reunited him with  that warmth. And, he had not realized how it had nearly been forgotten or how much he missed it until he finally felt it again. 

“You seem like someone who has better things to attend to.” The lament that stained his words bore such heartache that was soon displaced in your chest. 

“No, no. My life is boring, and I don’t know. What person wouldn’t be interested in the personal life of a hermit who lives in a lighthouse?” You stood and paced around the platform towering over the swirling bookshelves below, towering over what felt like the entire world with Jungkook. The end of the blanket trailed your footstep as your drooping eyes skimmed the multicolored novels which were remarkably arranged alphabetically by author. How he had the time or patience to organize the hundreds of books he owned was beyond your comprehension. Every detail you acquired from Jungkook was stored in a compartment of your heart, almost as if it were assigned by fate. They were told in riddles and secrets and everything else meant to be deciphered.

“Not a hermit, and not a lighthouse. I couldn’t imagine someone like you being bored with your life.” His voice had become welcoming, with a hint of genuine interest, and this transition felt imminent ever since you first introduced yourself. The tilt of your head signified your agreement with his last statement and implied there was something that bothered you about this truth.

“Someone like me?”

“Someone like you. Curious, young with your whole life ahead of you. It's hard to believe you should be bored with that.”

“You say that as if you aren't the same age as me.” Jungkook shrugged lazily and scuffed his shoes against the rug as he now stood against the window sill, observing your interest of his books.

“I shouldn’t be a lot of things, and yet I am all those things. Bored, curious, and I’m here talking to a complete stranger that totally has the capability to murder me like in those movies instead of going back home.” Your comment that snuck out had wrested a soft chuckle from Jungkook. They were absentmindedly thrown into the air that filled the space between you and him, nurturing his reciprocated fascination with you. Your diligent grazing of each book had distracted how the weight of your eyelids heavied by the minute.

“It’s not like I don’t have great people in my life or a quality education that takes up most of my time, I just,” Your brief pause was to turn your attention over to Jungkook, who did not hide how he was listening intently to these confessions, alleviating from a place in need of emptying. His eyebrow was arched in a manner that jolted you back to your senses. You’d revealed one too many privacies to someone who you had been acquainted with only hours ago. Mortification would have bathed your body if not for the way Jungkook seemed to strongly engage with your openness.

“You just?” He staged his interest overtly to correct the imbalance of how your genuinity left you hanging lower than him on the emotional scale. Jungkook believed that was the least he could do to mitigate the embarrassment about to silence you. 

“Uh, I just never seem to be satisfied with what I have. And that makes me seem like a greedy, spoiled child which makes me even more frustrated with myself.” You admitted, pulling the blanket over your shoulders tighter as if that would shield you from the compromising guilt slithering out of your body. “And that’s how I see myself. Ungrateful and spoiled.” This certainly scraped the barrel of your deep rooted disgust with yourself.

“Not spoiled, just lost.” His response felt like a soft and thoughtful embrace, granted that this was meant to ease the tinge of reproach in your heart. The words he spoke caressed your cheeks and told you that every horrid thing you thought of yourself was flawed.

“I’ve certainly been in your position.” He euphemized what he really wanted to say to you, that he saw himself in you. Even though you spoke very little on this, he felt himself living every experience you alluded to as if he had been right beside you your whole life. Or rather that you had witnessed his life and suffered identical desires and grievances and adversities and were simply retelling his story down to the most intricate detail; and somehow you made it sound brand new and a thousand times more aching. He was stranded in a state of amazement, ambushed by your pain and how even in moments of emotional destitution, you were unquestionably beautiful.  

Likewise, this stranger, who was no longer estranged, and his kind words nearly compensated for the billions of people you could never meet, all the dreams you wanted but could never alter into incarnation, and all the disappointments that plagued your heart.

And you felt held by his words, his voice, him.

“You’ve been in my position?” You requested confirmation.

“I was. Certainly.” And he confirmed.

“Where are you now?” In turn, you wanted this to suggest, ‘where can I find you?’

This question carried profound sentiment on both the giving and receiving end of it. To you, this yearned for advice. Any piece of wisdom would gladly, gratefully be accepted to ease this rampage of constant dissatisfaction. To him, it resurfaced a series of speculations long undisturbed until you had asked this question; a place intentionally void of all attention because it was sometimes too grim to remember. A haze of difficulty crowded a definite answer, though he knew there was one. He couldn’t place his finger on a fitting response and found himself next to you in search of the answer.

Where are you now?

This haunted his mind for a bit, leaving him speechless and albeit impressed, for once, by your curiosity. 

“It’s hard to say. Somewhere in between, I suppose.” Whatever meaning this carried did not resonate as sound to you. The mere idea of being on the end of perpetual longing, waiting for a clear path to the end that promised fulfillment, made it implausible to settle on being somewhere in between the two. Again, you were left unsatisfied and feeling a burden placing itself on your shoulders and wallowing a fit of disappointment in the pit of your stomach. Jungkook noticed how your eyes fell from his, down to the maroon accents of the rug, and felt out of place. Out of place, in his own lighthouse, all because your gaze and attention he’d grown used to in this short time wasn’t directed at him.

“That’s the kind of ambiguity that leaves me so hungry.” He nodded in agreeance with the twisted cruelty of his response you had pointed out. Jungkook didn’t know how or why he’d come to turn every corner and check each crevasse to find what could settle your appetite. This whole time, though, he sailed through this painstaking search without a trace of uncertainty. His illusion of disinterest and annoyance soon dissolved into the floor that your eyes hadn’t strayed from. 

“Maybe if I lived in a quaint, not-lighthouse I would be satisfied with that answer, but I don’t. I live a normal, normal, normal life.” The repetition of your words stressed your fatigue of this dullness, your desire for everything just inches away from your fingertips.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a normal life. I think it’s wrong that we have put the idea of drama and excitement on a pedestal.” This outlook, unlike the last, did gain traction in stripping the thick ambiguity around Jungkook’s mind. To your surprise, you could be satisfied with the small pieces of this man’s mystery being chipped bit by bit. 

He was well aware of his deep rooted appreciation that accompanied your eyes as it moved towards him once again. There was some sense of purposefulness in this glance that demoted his callousness to tender captivation.

“Can I ask one more question?”

“I have a hard time believing you only have one more question.” His doubtfulness didn’t seem to discourage you, or him.

“For real! Only one more, it’s important.” The only way to prove whether or not this question was truly important was for you to ask it. His head nodded his approval.

“What do you think makes us human?” Before he could answer, a swell of perplexity had overtaken his thoughts on this. You could tell, out of everyone, Jungkook would have a profound answer that could save you hours of contemplation over your philosophy essay’s prompt. 

“That’s an interesting question.”

“An interesting question in need of an answer.” You prodded him for his response, though this was pointless if there was no response that could possibly be constructed. Not a response of reason that you seemed to require, but of feeling. Like an instinct, and that in itself made it inapplicable to this question.

“Ask me again some other time. I don’t know if the answer is that simple.”

But, of course, it was. The answer, in his eyes, was blindingly clear.

“I’ll hold you to that!” He gladly took accountability for that commitment. An unfamiliar contentment with the unknown had lodged in your chest when the promise of spending time together emerged through the once conditional circumstances. The promise that transformed those conditional circumstances to voluntary acts.

This humbling discovery left a wide grin on your face, beaming directly towards Jungkook. 

Jungkook peered over to the antique clock placed on a shelf next to the window. The aversion of his eyes was to save face from how your soft smile that projected praise and attachment had effectively unnerved him; he stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide his fingers that twitched out of pure elation. 

The hour hand stationed on the twelve carved in roman numerals verified how his company had erased any discern for the hours that passed. They had floated away so silently, slowly that you could have sworn time froze altogether. 

“Oh shit, it’s midnight? Fuck me.” The decibels of your voice boomed against the walls, it could have shaken the stacks of books down to a pile of mess. “I’m sorry, shit. I didn’t even realize it was so late.” You unraveled yourself from the blanket and collected your belongings in a bit of a frenzy. 

“It’s alright. I, um, I had a nice time.” He distanced himself from you swiftly as you dashed across the room to the edge of the stairs. Even in a hurried state, you still looked back to him and offered a smile, unsure if that was enough to suffice for a proper gesture of gratitude. 

“Me too.” The words were close to inaudible, but you knew he heard them loud and clear, along with the string of implications that were laced in them. 

“Oh and by the way, make good use of that umbrella. It looks like it could start raining again.” Your ears felt engorged with flames when he’d revealed his knowledge of your little secret. It was foolish of you to believe you could outsmart Jungkook because what you thought obscure was well within his range of astuteness and the umbrella, still damp from the rain, was apparent from the beginning.

You didn’t catch how he’d been smiling when you turned away bashfully, strutting down the stairs in an attempt to portray false confidence. But if you did, you would have picked up on his mutual indulgence in your visit, the absolute bliss laden in his eyes. You grasped tightly to the joy evoked from the thought of seeing him again, however your nerves held a tighter grasp that did not allow you to express this to him. Perhaps your giggles of excitement, surely heard by Jungkook, spilling from your throat as you rushed out the empty room or the way you clutched your umbrella to your chest in admittance you had purposefully kept that fact from him would give Jungkook a clue of how thankful you were to meet him. And even more so to be able to see him again.

As you parted from the lighthouse that was not a lighthouse, something in between, you felt that the comfort you once had taper off with the growing distance from the not-lighthouse. You were fraught with a gentle yearning to turn back, run up the spiraling stairs, settle yourself back into the right armchair, and ask humbly to stay a while longer.

Little did you know, Jungkook’s hopes coincided with yours like two concentric circles. 

(One week later)

If it wasn’t the question left unanswered that motivated you, it was the fact that you missed the view of the beach from the window. Or maybe it was the countless supply of book titles that you didn’t get to finish inspecting. Perhaps it was that you missed how the soft blanket complimented the feathery cushion of the right armchair. 

Any of these excuses could be suited to explain how you rushed through the town, determined, goal-oriented and passing down streets now ingrained in your memory, with a destination clear in mind.

But it definitely couldn't be how dearly you missed the sound of his voice when he read to you or his smile or the way he studied the waves with gentle affection. No, it couldn't be that.

Either way, you arrived at the base of the lighthouse. It had been a week since your first visit and you hoped that the invitation still stood for your return. Making your way through the empty room felt quick since you hadn't wasted time to notice how the table now had a vase of flowers in the center. Nor did you notice the new mat placed in front of the interior doorway to the lighthouse.

Your heart dropped from your chest when you reached over to the door knob only to find it was locked. You turned the handle back and forth as if that would miraculously function as a key to unlock the door. After a bit of knob fiddling had proven itself useless, you turned away with a huff of air releasing your frustration. 

The click and turn of the handle had you twirling around optimistically and seeing him made all that disappointment dissolve. 

“You’re back again.” He was smiling at you, then cocked his head to say come in. The moment you stepped into the lighthouse, its lackluster disappeared as if by magic. But Jungkook knew it wasn’t magic at all; it was the person that hid their umbrella, and asked him to read and promised to return as much as he promised to let you return.

“I believe you promised to keep reading to me.” 

“Did I?” The reasons for your return weren’t all that important to discuss, both you and him were just glad to make your way up the stairs to the two armchairs once more, hearts both racing not because of the physical exertion from the stairs but from the excitement rasping through yours and his bodies.

“Yes, but this time I won’t fall asleep.” 

“We’ll see about that.” There was no question that your intense focus wasn’t because you cared about the book he had been reading. In all honesty, you would not be able to summarize any bit of the plot if someone asked. You probably would have a hard time even naming the author of the book because what sank you into the words on the pages wasn’t the story itself, but the voice that read them. Jungkook made those languid paragraphs sound like the first words ever to be spoken; he reinvented the English language through his unique dialect, inflections and phrasing that had the words of Homer dancing off the pages. So, of course there was no question that you wouldn’t be able to name any of the characters or recognize the writing style of Homer because those details faded away, leaving only the memory of his voice with you.

This time, Jungkook didn’t have to offer you a seat. He made it clear that this spot had been reserved and waiting for you by the way the blanket had been folded and worn by the arm of the chair and the new pillow resting at the base of the chair’s backrest. You planted yourself on the cushion that felt more plump than the last time you sat in it and faced towards the large window that showcased the ocean’s energetic swaying.

“I would never get tired of this view.” You commented while Jungkook pulled back the curtains further to widen the seascape. He too was drawn to the deep blue waters making their way to and from the shore. 

“I usually don’t leave the windows this open, but my love for the scenery of the ocean has rekindled.” When he said this, your eyes hadn’t budged from the window unlike Jungkook’s that peered over to you. You pretended not to notice that or the way your heartbeat had taken a quickness that had your skin growing warmer. 

“How could it leave in the first place?”

“It is well known, especially by you, that having an abundance of something lessens your appreciation for it.” A corner of your lips lifted at this, knowing exactly what he had been referring to. Each wave passed by and in a comatose-like state, you wondered where on the shore it would land.

“No need to call me out already, Jungkook.” He had left the window and retrieved The Odyssey that hadn’t left the side table since the night he read it to you. This broke your trance, and you shifted to face the left armchair.

“You made it too easy, ___.”

“Okay, Hermit.” Your smile did wonders to ease the irritation in Jungkook’s chest to tenderness. Though he refused to admit it, this otherwise taunting nickname sounded affectionate coming from you.

“Technically a hermit is-”

“Technically, I don’t care about your technicalities. No amount of facts will persuade me that you aren’t a Hermit.” Jungkook dug his tongue into the side of his cheek to resist from joining in with your laughter. He’d been fidgeting with the book that was waiting to be read, but neither of you seemed to mind putting that off.

“Ho- How was your day?” You shouldn’t have felt as proud as you did for making a man who could read aloud for hours stutter over his own words, and nonetheless you were extremely flattered by this.

“It was good.” Good never really meant good, and Jungkook knew this.

“And what’s the truth?” Your playing field had once again been unleveled, the advantage returned into the palm of Jungkook’s hand in the blink of an eye. His perceptiveness had been bordering on annoying but still remained on the side of impressive.

“Well,” You bunched the blanket in your fists as an expression of worry, “My mom called today.” Anyone who could hear would be able to tell you sounded unhappy about that.

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” Jungkook articulated his question to get the answer he’d been looking for, finding the hostility in your voice far more interesting than the actual conversation between you and your mom.

“You don’t know my mom, but she projects her over achieving personality onto almost everyone she meets, but most of it goes onto me.” Your back had straightened when mentioning your mom, almost as if it were a reflex, like Pavlov’s dog, that you were conditioned to be on guard at the thought of her. “I don’t know why I get so mad at her when she does that because I know it comes from a place of love.”

Jungkook hummed softly, granting you space to continue talking. 

“Yeah, it probably comes from a place of love but part of me doesn’t believe that. Part of me thinks every time she calls to check on me it’s really just a ploy for her to nag me on what I could be doing better.” You scoffed as the conversation from earlier in the morning played out in your head again. Envisioning the back and forth between you and your mother only fueled your frustration but you couldn’t help yourself. There was no stifling the seething anger imploding before Jungkook’s eyes. “She always says stuff like, ‘Maybe if you applied yourself more you would be doing better than this.’ or ‘I told you that you should have done this or that and now it’s too late’ or the infamous ‘Do you not care about your future?’ lecture that just gets under my skin. She’s so good at saying the wrong things at the wrong time. I don’t know how she does it but she always manages to rub dirt in the wound.” 

“So, she’s never satisfied with you?” Jungkook observed.

“No, never! And you’d think a mother would be supportive or happy with all the things her child had already accomplished but somehow it’s never enough. And she knows what she’s doing. That makes it worse. She knows how she weaponizes my guilt against me.” You held your tongue from the much longer rant about to digress, feeling a sudden discomfort in the way you’d been complaining to Jungkook. You couldn’t understand why it was all too easy to talk of these kinds of things to him, why he looked so interested in what you were saying even when anyone else would have grown tired of you by now, why you found in him a warm confidant much more comforting than you’d expected, yet there was no way to dismiss this reality.

Jungkook did not offer advice, or tell you that you should be thankful or that maybe you were handling these situations poorly. He did none of that. His silence was more thoughtful than any number of things he could have said. He simply listened. 

You rose from the chair to get a closer view of the sea. Past your reflection in the glass, the consecutive tides seemed to grapple over the next and the next; the previous wave always just short of reach to tackle the immediate wave. He had followed you without a word, living up to your desire to have him at your side. There was no need for mindless comments or condolences to fill the silence, only mindful amity, at your side, because watching the ocean with you was enough.

“So, that was my day.” It was the first thing spoken after a period of quiet, perfectly timed and delivered for it to bear a dry humor in its intention. Jungkook and you laughed, finding this the long needed release of tension in your head. 

“Is this going to become a habitual thing?”

“What’s that?” 

“Me complaining to you about my personal struggles that would have gone in my journal or somewhere far more private than this.” All said while your and Jungkook’s gazes didn’t wander from the view of the window. “Me inviting myself into your lighthouse, or not-lighthouse, whatever.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” Two heads turned towards each other almost as if it were on que.

The way your pupils dilated and softened conveyed every bit of thanks you held in your heart but couldn’t muster the courage to voice. Jungkook’s doe-eyed smile thanked you likewise and confessed the gratitude for how you had rescued him from yet another lonesome afternoon with a curtained window, an unused blanket, an empty chair, and a melancholic silence as he read his one of thousands of books. Not including The Odyssey, that was for your ears only.

“You wouldn’t?”

“Maybe a little.” His tease succeeded to provoke that smile of yours. And even though that was a favor on his end, he was the one that felt graced by it. Realistically, a smile costs nothing yet there grew an enormous debt in his heart; and even though he couldn’t afford it, all he could do was bask in every detail your smile, of the crease of your eyes, and of the way your cheeks took the form of a sweet Spring Peach, and the scrunch of your nose and brows. Before he sank himself deeper in debt, Jungkook beckoned for the two of you to return to your seats and read all your worries away.

---

Who would have guessed that The Odyssey, of all things, would be the thing that would occupy most of your Fridays through the rest of the winter? Sometimes you visited a Sunday, and other times you’d find yourself needing to hear The Odyssey on a Wednesday evening or a Monday morning. The days on which you swung by the now familiar lighthouse would vary, but they remained a weekly occurrence. 

Jungkook had grown comfortable with this routine, reading to you while you watched him and the waves, but mostly him. Occasionally, his reading would cease to an interruption of his own doing to ask how your day was in a very specific way that only Jungkook seemed to exhibit. He’d ask you say anything but ‘good’ or ‘boring’ and he’d clarify that he wanted you to not leave out any details. 

“Why?” You would ask. And he’d look at you as if you set yourself on fire.

“It’s important to me.” He’d reply as if it were that simple, or the answer you were looking for. Still, if it was important to him you didn’t need any more persuading.

Like when you told him you stopped by a coffee shop, he’d tell you to specify which drink you ordered and how it tasted. 

“Cinnamon.”

“Is that your favorite?”

“No, I prefer peppermint but sometimes I combine those flavors and that becomes my other favorite.”

“That sounds sweet.”

“It absolutely is.”

“Does that make you happy?”

“It makes my insides feel like Christmas.”

“Is Christmas a feeling?”

“It is to me!” He smiled at your childlike enthusiasm because it made life seem a lot more appealing than he’d ever believed. Before you, the world was a little greyer. After you, suddenly full of vibrance, saturated to the grandest extents.

Or the time you brought a candle to fill the air with something a bit more pleasant than the smell of the old, wet stones of the lighthouse.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a candle, vanilla and patchouli.”

“Where did you get it?”

“I don’t remember. I just found it in my house and thought this place needed something sweet.”

“But you’re here.” Your teeth bit down on your tongue when he said this. You almost fallen trapped in figuring out what motivated him to say this, but the flattery of his comment was all too pleasing to ignore.

“But I don’t smell like vanilla and patchouli.” You said, only to save face from the fact that you suddenly felt like a deer in headlights when he looked at you, bracing for when he would crash into you and hoping to god you can absorb the exhilaration of souls colliding; and hoping to god he would crash into you.

“Could you light it, then?”

“Of course.”

And the room filled with a sweetness that complimented your company finely. Now, whenever he would smell the scents of vanilla and patchouli he would think of you, and you of him.

He would continue asking these simple questions, and so on.

Why he thought it was essential for you to relay these almost invaluable intricacies was beyond you, but it did make you feel heard; it made you feel held as it always did. It made the value of your life gone without the need to be earned or proven, the value of the smaller moments that fell between bigger moments. 

It made it all okay that you felt like you stripped the clothes from your whole life off for him to revere and that he’d rarely ever display such emotional nudity for you; you were okay with lying bare before his eyes, vulnerable and pliant to his every whim. Even when you wanted to know all of these things about Jungkook and he’d hold them captive or he’d only offer half sufficient answers, you collected as many bits of the puzzle as possible to try and piece together his story.

“How are your parents, Jungkook?”

“Long gone.”

“Oh, Jungkook… I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I watched them grow old and content and that softened the blow.” 

“Are you lonely?”

Yes, it’s excruciating when you are not here. I am tormented in your absence and all too plagued with despondency and I wish you knew that.

“I’ve grown used to it.”

“So you have.”

“So I have.”

You did not want him to be lonely; you didn’t want him to ever be sad but you wanted him to be able to say that he was to you. You wanted him to be able to tell you he was lonely; you wanted him to want you to know his heart. You wanted him to feel as naked as you felt. Vagueness was all you could ever manage to arrest from his gated mind. 

And for once, the little he had given was more than you could ever ask for.

Sunday mornings with Jungkook were your favorite. The ocean was tame during this time on Sundays specifically and sailed you into its calmness; you were half asleep, resting on the sill running along the base of the window panes. Spring had been approaching which meant there were radiant glimmers of the early sun that reflected and glided along the ripples of the waves. Jungkook once said that every time he looked at these little pieces of diamond rays, he believed the sun and the sea performed in devotion for you and him alone. 

“I love that.” And indeed you did. The idea that no one else witnessed this ocean, not this one, not the way you and Jungkook had, was a greedy disposition but felt so true.

“Would you like me to read?” He said in place of, Is my voice properly fitting for something as lovely as this moment?

“I want you to talk, but not of books.” You blinked slowly at Jungkook, “Could you tell me about yourself? Just one thing, anything you choose.” He saw those specks of diamonds glimmering in your irises. He felt so close to you, sitting on the other end of the window, and close enough to finally surrender a bit of his gated mind.

“When I was a child, I knew my days were numbered. The details of why aren’t important, but I digress.” You stuffed a scoff down your throat at the assertion that the details weren’t important. Him, of all people, claiming the details were unimportant had you whirling in a paradox. “With this in mind, I did my best to fulfill everything any child would have wanted. And I don’t think I’ve ever stopped because that list of desires was never ending.” 

Was this what he meant when he said he was in my position once? You wondered.

“I spent all my time looking for the next best thing I could achieve, because the best things that I had was, as you know, never enough. One week, the best thing would be finding a four leaf clover to give to my mother. The next, it was being the first in line for the new, long awaited comic book. Or, it was the time my father took me fishing on the lake, and then seconds after it was the first fish I caught and threw back into the water, and that best thing was soon replaced by my father’s proud smile.”

Your throat tightened as you visualized a young Jungkook sitting on the dock with his father, full of youth and excitement, and how nostalgia had ripened into your heart even though you had no place in this memory of his. This dream-like sequence had compelled a few tears to fill your eyes, fogging your vision of the older Jungkook that sat before you. 

“When I grew older, in my adolescent and teenage years, the next best thing was fulfilling a newfound passion. It prompted me to buy out almost the entire library and major in World Literature. I spent the rest of my days from then on immersed in reading, as you can see. It was the only place I felt like I was achieving the next best thing, and it was cruel when I came to realize there was no way in hell I could finish all the books I’d collected in time.”

“In time for what?”

“In time... for the next best thing to come along, I guess.” This answer appeared fabricated, but was subtle enough to pass through your mind without a second thought. 

“And did it? Did it come along?”

It would have made no difference if your question had been asked to a brick wall because Jungkook brushed it off as he did every other question that would have given you another piece of his puzzle. He took precautions to avoid a defeat to your pouting by walking over to the left armchair and burying his face in the book’s fortitude. Before you had the chance to reiterate your question, Jungkook began to read, making it all too clear he was evading.

“Jungkook?” You whined to which he paid no mind by continuing to read.

“Is he being serious right now?” Again, you might as well have been talking to an inanimate object. There was nothing to be done when he lodged his restraint other than joining him in your armchair, quietly, permissively.

Every day, like this one, spent with him had you convinced it couldn’t be surpassed in enjoyment. And every day, your expectations had been exceeded. That was something you’d never think could happen. Soon, the cares and worries of this Winter melted as the avenue of Spring had unfolded before you. A long path, surrounded with flower blossoms and diamond coated seas, or in other words, the unfathomable had fallen into your hands.

The remainder of this pleasant Sunday had been consumed by The Odyssey and Jungkook’s voice singing its words as smoothly as the waves surrounding the lighthouse and small conversations during the pauses of his reading. One struck you into reminiscence of the first night you met.

“You never answered my question.” He paused, flipping through the many unanswered questions he’d left with you. Jungkook raised his brow to order specification of which one you referred to.

“What makes us human?” The due date of your essay passed over two months ago, however this didn’t diminish your curiosity to know his answer.

“In all honesty,” He paused and looked to assure you would believe his answer would be honest, or honest enough to cater your satisfaction. “I think it’s our desire to achieve the last best thing.”

Every fiber in you compiled its own list of questions in regards to his yet again ambiguous answer, though you had grown to accept that as a part of Jungkook. And you sure as hell accepted Jungkook, ambiguity and all.

“Hm.” It didn’t take a mind reader to know you had theorized any and all connotations branching off from his answer and he didn’t mind that you could be lost in search of whatever the actual meaning of it was. 

The moon was in its fullest bloom tonight, and tomorrow, it would begin to wane into a crescent then into nothing but an empty space full of new and perhaps fortunate opportunities. Jungkook found the romance of this lunar phase well equipped for the dusty instrument he discovered in the base of the lighthouse. 

“I found something that I think you’d like.” Your ears perked like a dog when it’d been presented with treats. “But you have to go get it. It’s in the other room.”

Whatever this surprise was, it had excited you enough to ignore how you’d have to descend and re-ascend the many stairs that would surely tire you. Your eager legs would have jumped right from the platform to the bottom of the lighthouse if the reality didn’t result in broken bones. As you rushed to the door to the other room, you pushed through and discovered a telescope standing in the corner of the otherwise empty space. A few moments later you were hustling back up the stairs, the telescope making the re-ascension of the stairs ten times as strenuous. All the while, Jungkook just stared in amusement at the way you struggled your way to the platform.

“No, I don’t want any help, thank you!” You said sarcastically through grunts of exertion before positioning the instrument in front of the window.

“Well, I didn’t offer you any, so, you’re very welcome.” He stood on the other side of the telescope, admiring the way you fell so easily in love with it, hands scaling the length of the scope.

“Do I just?” You pointed to the eyepiece at the end of the rod and he nodded. You brought your eye to the magnifying glass which was flooded with the enchanting glow of the stars. You’d never seen them this close, but this little gift of Jungkook’s had catapulted you into the illuminated abyss of the night sky. A measly woah was all that squeaked from your voice, because all the other words were stolen by the stars.

“Can you find any constellations?” He’d seen all the stars in the galaxy; that he was sure of. But none had shone brighter than the person he couldn’t tear his eyes from. Three o’clock had crept onto the antique clock, this late hour had worn down Jungkook’s walls completely as the soft glow of adornment laminated his eyes. 

“I think I see ORion's belt. That’s the only one I know other than the Big Dipper.” You laughed at your own lack of knowledge of the stars. Knowledge didn’t seem to matter though, the beauty of the stardusted sky had taken care of that deficiency. You lifted yourself away from the telescope, allowing Jungkook a turn to stargaze.

“Have you heard of the Astral Plane?” Jungkook asking you something other than, ‘how was your day’, was a rare occurrence which most likely meant this was of some importance.

“I’ve heard of it, but I think I’ll need you to refresh my memory.” You really did need clarification on what exactly the Astral Plane entailed, though you mainly just wanted to hear him explain it. 

“Some say it lies in the fourth dimension. It isn’t tangible or something that can be touched. It lies between everything, every atom, every cell, every city and forest and mountain and even between the crevasses of one’s own mind and soul. A place like this is full of divinity and complete attainment and the way it is reached has been theorized by many.” Jungkook’s meticulous readjustments of the telescope had you wondering which constellations he was searching for, or maybe he’d been looking for Venus or Mars or the Moon. “Some say you arrive there in your dreams, or when you reach enlightenment, or when death draws its curtain on you…  I-I don't know why but I’ve always thought that it was stitched into the sky. Far beyond our galaxy, maybe the Astral Plane has situated itself in between each star, just like it does our souls, and exists as the vastness of outer space.” It turned out he wasn't looking for any of those things, he was looking for the Astral Plane.

Could the heat rising throughout your body be merely adoration, or was it something along the lines of a forlorn longing? When he spoke, you felt this sensation growing dense in your bones; you felt a gravitation towards him.

“Seems about right to me.” Fondness had stained your tone which filled some void in Jungkook’s hungry heart, and he’d failed to predict you were the one that would be able to settle it. “Maybe we’ll never reach the Astral Plane, but at least I’m here with you.”

When you said this, the hairs on his arms pointed towards the ceiling. For once in a very, very long time, Jungkook felt a euphoric resurgence striking through the catacombs of his soul and hot tears dripping down the expanse of his cheeks, to the tip of his chin, and onto the glass scope that was shielding this sudden emotional combustion. He blinked away the tears to the best of his abilities and turned away from you and the telescope and the sky. Jungkook felt the push of air from your movement towards him, but he shifted further away. 

“Are yo-”

“I found a cluster of stardust, go look.” He averted you from him and you always fell victim to every trick in his book. 

“Wow, that’s amazing!” The grip you had on the telescope was firm, like you were trying to hold onto the stars themselves.

“Amazing.” He said. This reiteration wasn’t for the stars, however. He wondered if you knew that. He wondered if you could feel how consumed he was by your magnificence under the full moon that reigned with gentleness over the waves. The once wild tides, now moving with the same serenity and romance embedded into Jungkook and this lighthouse. He wondered if you could see he had been emotionally disrobed and bearing all his affection for you. And he wondered how he was so okay with that.

Six o’clock didn’t feel like six o’clock. Your eyes that struggled to keep open told you otherwise, so again you and him were parting ways as the sun had begun dawning over the horizon and there were no more stars to fill the hours slipping away. Jungkook did all he could to compose himself. He’d offered to walk you out; you reached the door that led to the dewy, Spring air awaiting your departure from the lighthouse.

“Wait, ___!” This exclamation echoed louder than the beating of his crimson heart. After stepping through the threshold, you turned to meet his gaze, teary-eyed from what you guessed was from lack of sleep. Teary-eyed from what he knew was because of another egregious goodbye. “Thank you.”

This moment seemed fitting to test the theory that actions speak louder than words. This moment called for the lapse of courage in need to act, not speak. This moment was the moment when you finally expressed the thankfulness that, to you, seemed to outweigh his by pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. It was much colder than your lips and the docile warmth of the morning, but once you pulled away the warmth had stained his cheek. 

Jungkook felt like every cell in his body was evaporating into the space around him. Like the way a fire would extend its heat into the air or the way Spring melted away the frost ridden Winter, your act had covered him in a blanket of love and refuge from the loneliness once vaulting his heart. And it certainly spoke louder than words; all the words in every book Jungkook had ever read and the words left unsaid and the words passing between everyone in the universe.

“I’m the one who should be thanking you, Hermit! You helped me see Orion’s Belt up close and personal!” You called as your strides began a slow fleet from a laughing Jungkook. You waved, now standing a generous distance from him, and he found this gave him the space needed to finally let his tears fall. 

“I love you.” He whispered, hoping the wind would carry it to your ears and heart.

A revelation had overcome him, and no matter how many times he tried to wipe the tears away, they’d be instantly replenished like a stream of water rushing from a conquered dam, spilling over endlessly, with all control suspended in the air around him.

Was it finally here? The last, best thing?

---

A week after the stargazing, your mind had mapped out the stars as you too searched for that Astral Plane. To you, Jungkook’s proposition of it being strewn in the night sky was the only theoretical that made sense. You wanted to flaunt your newfound passion for this concept he’d introduced, and admittedly - and more importantly - you wanted to kiss him again, leading to yet another blissful walk down the seashore to the lighthouse. The air was warm but not humid, carrying a breeze that evened out the sun’s heat nicely. A few pillows of clouds were cascading through the sky, never staying in one spot for too long; you’d come to appreciate each one’s temporary presence and when they passed, you grew to appreciate that as well. The gaze once fixed on the sand had now traveled to the waves of much gentler motion than ever before. 

This walk, unlike the dozens of others, felt different. The streets looked lovely and the air felt clean in your chest, giving you a pleasant journey far more intimate than the last. Then you realized, it felt like you were walking back home.

When you grew closer to the lighthouse, you noticed the curtains had been drawn which was strikingly unusual for a sunny day such as this one. This was a passing observation as you made your way to the base of the lighthouse. 

Through the door to the room before the lighthouse, you were taken aback to find your armchair sitting in front of the table. you walked up to discover a single, folded parchment sealed with a red wax stamp labeled with your name along the top of the paper.

This felt eerie, for some reason, and you called out his name only to be met with silence, before sitting yourself down and unsealing the note.

It read in his voice:

My Dearest, ___

I wrote this to relay a lot of things left unsaid. The first being goodbye. I’m sorry to have to leave you like this, though no amount of remorse could possibly appease my actions.

Your heartbeat had grown rampant, until your eyes read those words. It was then when it stopped altogether. Still, you continued to read.

I kept things from you like the fact that our encounter in the town’s square was all but coincidental. The truth is scary, and my truth would have turned you away from the beginning. It was selfish, I admit, but I do not think I could have endured such a loss. Forgive me for keeping you in the dark all this time, but I am beyond gratified for what you granted me in spite of that.

Maybe it might seem cruel. You are not alone in feeling that — never alone. But, we were never meant to spend every Sunday morning, or Friday evening, or Wednesday afternoon together to watch the waves float along with the hours lost reading to you; I knew this was not the end of your story, just mine. 

The books I have read over and over have imprisoned me in search of the “next best thing”. To my dismay, I thought I had run out of time to find it. But then you came along. You helped set me free by allowing me to live out a few more “best things” through the way you shared your life with me, unselfishly, warmly, kindly— You helped me move on.

I know you too will move on from this. I hope I could at least leave you with the tools and courage to find each “next best thing” in store. If not that, then this lighthouse, open to you and only you, and a myriad of good memories to ease our parting. I know in my heart you deserve nothing less.

I hope you find contentment somewhere in the sea or on the sand or in the stars, or perhaps somewhere in between.

Once you do, we will meet again within the Astral Plane, my love. I swear it. And if you miss me, just look through the telescope and find me woven in the spaces amidst Orion’s Belt.

Thank you. Again and again I thank you and it is still not enough. Thank you for you, for your warmth, for your salvation, for your smile, for your endless questions, for re-introducing me to the aroma of vanilla and patchouli but it was not as sweet as your companionship, for putting good use of the right armchair and the view from our window, for making the odyssey a little less lonely to read, and thank you for stepping into my lighthouse and my life.

Don't you see, it was you. You were my last, best thing.

with love and sorrow,

Jeon Jungkook

Before you got to the end of the letter, you were racing up the spiraling stairs, ignoring the burn in your tightened chest, how the air in the lighthouse had suffocated your lungs. The dizziness that blurred your eyes had not slowed your climb up the stairs, and the wetness of your tears now seeping into his letter.

You reached the top, The Odyssey greeting you on the chair Jungkook would have been seated in. Your breaths were staggered and warm, filling the mournful emptiness of the lighthouse. 

“Jungkook.” You whispered. You begged for a reply. The curtains were drawn over the window, like never before, and exposed a bronze plaque peeking out from the end of the fabric. You pushed the drapes aside to read what was engraved into the metal plate and the first page of The Odyssey that hung below it.

In loving memory of our beloved son, Jeon Jungkook. May he rest in peace. 1918-1942.

The note below read: 

The Odyssey

Jeon and ___ Lighthouse.

You pieced the puzzle together, finally. And with that, came the final picture, so beautiful and mesmerizing and everything you could have ever hoped for, and more.

“Jungkook.” You repeated as a bid of farewell, with a heart full of satisfaction and content, and Jungkook. You pressed the letter to your chest in hopes his words would mend your aching heart. 

And it was true, he was not your last best thing, only one of them. 

But he was undoubtedly your most cherished and beloved best thing.

[aurora-313]

Rift Soul Ryou - AU Proposal

Here’s an idea that I’ve been playing with for the last few weeks. And thanks @bbtree for being a kind ear and listening to my whacky idea that I’m trying (and failing) to turn into a fanfiction one-shot or cross-reality story.

We all know the absolute dumpster fire that was the Operation Kuron storyline. However, I would like to put a few preconditions onto this AU before we delve too deeply in.

Full disclosure: I have not watched season 8 but I am aware of its general plot beats. Also this is a mix of AU lore and drabble.

Condition #1 - the reason for the formation of the Galra empire 10 000 years ago was Zarkon’s response to a massive invasion from the inter-reality rift creatures that existed in the Quintessence field. The same creatures Honerva/Haggar was studying. It functionally serves as a dark shadow to the current era’s Voltron Coallition, had the Black Paladin’s virtues descended into vices.

Condition #2 - Haggar’s experiments on the gladiators, and Shiro in particular, over the eons was an attempt to find Quintessence resistant individuals to combat the impending Trans-Reality invasion of the Quintessence creatures.  Shiro himself showing particular resistance to it - insert something about the same genetic strand that caused his disease also grants heightened resistance here. 

Condition #3 - Both driven mad by exposure to that radiation, Zarkon signed off on the research and was attempting to create was effectively a massive meat-shield army to stall the Quintessence beasts until they could permanently scourge Quintessence from the galaxy. His end game goal of that project was to have Haggar create suitable, unfailingly loyal cloned pilots for the Voltron Lions, and using Voltron itself as the key to destroy the source of all Quintessence, effectively erasing the galaxy as well. Zarkon’s plan basically boiling down to a mutual annihilation. 

Bare in mind - these people are mad, hence the doom’s day plans. Okay, backstory out of the way.

Where does Kuron come into this?

Well, Haggar tried and failed to clone Shiro multiple hundreds of time, trying to keep that genetic abnormality while eliminating the nasty ‘terminal illness’ side effect. But even when she succeeded, she had little more than blank living dolls. 

No will, no drive, no spark of life to propel them forward. 

And of course not. The soul that is Takashi Shirogane is safely nestled inside the consciousness of the Black Lion, and Blackie ain’t releasing her grip any time soon. So, however does Haggar solve this problem? Why - but the cruel irony of capturing an enemy and making it fight for the Galra empire.

She captured a rift creature, tortured it into insanity, implanted it inside a fully programmed Shiro clone body - et Viola. We have our first sentient clone in poor Kuron. And the first thing he does, believing he is Shiro, is YEET THE HELL outta dodge before Haggar and her druids can capitalize on this success or replicate it. This also goes to show part of the reason why Black refused to let Kuron pilot her until literal hell was at their door, because she could sense what Kuron’s soul really was and Black (Voltron in general) was specifically made to fight Quintessence beasts.

The seasons proceed much as they did before, but the hat trick is Season 6′s finale when Shiro’s consciousness is revived in Kuron’s body. 

In this AU, I shall now call Rift Soul Ryou, Kuron’s body isn’t rejecting Shiro’s consciousness. In fact, Kuron - once again aware of his true nature - talks to Shiro and surrenders the body freely by way of apology and atonement before leaving.

As Shiro’s compassion boarders on the messianic, Shiro tries to convince Kuron to stay and help, understanding that he truly loved the family he found with the Paladins. They recognize and sympathize with each other as fellow victims of Haggar’s brutal manipulations and come to an understanding based on that commonality. And, shock horror, Shiro defends the clone whenever the other Paladins get too antsy at Kuron.

Touched, but undeterred, Kuron still opts to leave and allow Shiro to reunite with his friends and family. 

Tears are shed, hugs and bear hugs are dolled out like candy and The Paladins are headed home.  Meanwhile, in the depths of one of Haggar’s cloning facilities - a seemingly failed clone jerks to live, promptly wrecks the facility and escapes into the great beyond.

Sometime down the line, back on Earth and the steady rebuilding effort, Shiro is observing some work while the Paladins are recuperating with their families... and then a prosthetic hand claps on his metal shoulder.

“You know, I don’t mind the floaty arm - I just don’t understand the floaty arm. Digging the white hair though. Makes it easier to tell the difference between the two of us, I’d say.”

Shiro spun, only to be confronted identical face staring back at him with a crooked smirk. The same scar across the bridge of his nose, the same greyed eyes, but the hair dyed back to its natural black. “I don’t think we ever actually introduced ourselves properly.”

“I don’t think so, no.” Shiro laughed, unable to do much else. “I suppose I should ask your name. Something other than ‘Kuron’ I hope.”

The clone shrugs, “I’ve been going by Ryou. Thanks.”

“Ryou, it is then,” Shiro nods with approval and offers his hand out, “I suppose you and me have a lot to talk about.”

Ryou shakes it with a smile of his own ,“That we do.”

TL; DR - Haggar couldn’t replicate Shiro’s soul, so she kidnapped a Quintessence entity, brainwashed it into serving as a replacement soul. Kuron doesn’t die, because as an energy being, he can literally possess another empty shell and continue living his own life.

[etihw000]

You, Boun, Ninja and Taxi were my inspo for doing character designs, though I have to ask, what was the logic of the fashion you gave when interpreting the skins back at like 2013/2014? I could never figure out how to get that 2010s mcyt aesthetic of designs.

i’m gonna put this here for future reference: i do not want to answer asks that mention taxey. so if anyone else had sent in an ask involving her i probably deleted it and will continue to delete them, sorry.

but you tickled a bit of my rambling bones because i do like to talk, and she is part of what happened (i will hereby refer to her as T); so here we go.

i think you can separate my designs into two eras: before-T and after-T. before T came around, my designs interpreted the skins pretty literally. here’s bodil, here’s sky/ty/mitch/jerome, here’s bashur, and here’s jason.

my explanation on this: i was 13 and didn’t really like challenging myself. i’m pretty sure i took jason’s design from dopier, for example. so i took the easy way route out on a lot of things! 

but most notably, i didn’t want to draw complicated designs like sky’s. so the answer was very simple and clear: obviously, put it onto a sweater! i’m sure it was originally meant to be armor, but i didn’t want to draw armor. that’s too much thinking, too much highlighting, and i just wanted to pump out fanart for what i liked.

i didn’t like drawing checkerboards, so i switched them to lines.

i didn’t want to draw an anthro, so i just made it into a bear hat ala michael (i’m pretty sure this bear-type hat was more prominent in 2014, but it seems to have been simplified into just a hoodie with bear ears?).

i didn’t want to draw a humanoid watermelon nor did i even know where to begin with that, so i just drew bashur’s skin as a human and mirrored the design onto his hair and everything else was kept similarly.

it’s what happened with jason’s design - remember his astronaut-y outfit? yeah, i changed it to a hoodie shortly afterwards with an astronaut-y print. hated drawing that shit, challenging yourself is dead.

so in early 2014 (i came to the realization that i actually didn’t draw mcyt in 2013; i started drawing it in 2014), honestly just look at the skins you want to interpret and go with the simplest possible outcome. the end.

however, if you’re talking a bit later with the more unique designs - there was one notable thing that happened that caused it.

T.

see, i was a cranky little 14 year old child who got way too much attention. and with that attention came people copying my art - and one of them was T. 

i was highly uncomfortable at the time because, well, when you’re 14 you want to be unique as possible; you wanna stand out. and i was the only one who drew mcyt in this vaguely anime style way (because it wasn’t minecraft). and because we were all fucking weebs i assume people just started copying my art style wholesale.

see, people would mistake me for T. and vice-versa. i was extremely unhappy with this bullshit. “why are people mistaking me for this person,” i thought very unhappily to myself. and because i didn’t want to change my bloody art style, i decided designs were the way to go. so i went a bit crazy with it.

started out pretty simple. i cut ty’s shirt slightly differently (it still plagues his fanart to this day, i’m sorry ty). i gave bodil a beanie. everything was fine.

and then i still didn’t fucking want to draw checkerboards, so i just made a unique design for mitch. it followed with zek (the jacket on the right with the blue), who also had a checkerboard print. 

i did not want anyone replicating what i did, because it pissed me the fuck off something fierce. and i don’t know nor do i remember this clearly, but i’m pretty sure T started doing the same damn thing anyway. and i’m pretty sure it’s only T, because when I talked with swift and jasie they didn’t remember doing this shit. it was literally the two of us and whoever happened to be watching us do it.

it wasn’t meant to be easy to replicate. 

it was meant to be a bitch to replicate.

(i did it with rage too. the man didn’t even have a checkerboard skin. the long hair also plagues his fanart to this day, too. sorry rage.)

the other designs (ragegaming-era) were in 2015. and i was still the same angry 14-year old kid, especially since the T situation hadn’t gotten any better. we were still being mistaken for each other. people were genuinely confused about which of us were who and i don’t know how to explain to you how much anger was packed into my tiny 14 year old unsocialized body. 

i genuinely still don’t understand it now because our art styles were fundamentally different.

so i pitch you this question: what happens if simple skins meet this anger at being copied when even the simpler prints intended to be a bitch to replicate end up being mimicked, especially when the person you didn’t want copying you followed you into a wholeass new fandom? (we were more divided than now; TC and Crew were two completely different fandoms lol; we didn’t generally unite ourselves under ‘mcyt’)

you end up with other weird attempts. strangely asymmetrical cuts. even more complicated patterns. i apparently hid these but it was hell, i tell you. 

but i can assure you that the patterns on my designs were almost always symmetrical, albeit colored differently from the other side. the asymmetrical parts were different - a cut, a rolled up pant leg. something that you could do with a regular article of clothing. i know that in my circle there were some people that would have different length in shoes. i never did that. i would literally never write words on a shirt, too. i wasn’t one of those graphic tee people.

then i guess in late 2015 i got tired of it all and went back to the simple times of just not wanting to draw difficult designs before quitting altogether.

so you want to know what defined 2014 designs? 

it was a 14 year old’s absolute anger at being copied to fucking death and having to be mistaken for other people.

i hope this helped and i am now going to choose to forget that i ever decided to answer this ask. not because it was a bad ask, but because i don’t like thinking about T in particular. 

thank you for indulging my rambling bones. here’s a tl;dr for you:

Before-T designs (simpler)

the interpretations are literal.

if you can’t tell what’s going on, just make it a sweater and copy the patterns on the skin 1:1.

if there’s a different head (jason’s astronaut helmet, jerome’s bacca head) just make it a hood or a hat.

After-T designs (more difficult)

you still don’t wanna draw things out of your comfort zone, so stay out of the armor/anthro business.

give every design two layers - three at most. 

you love hoodies :)

if the skin is simple, use slightly different shades to add patterns (i believe he had a plain blue hoodie and plain black pants).

want to be even MORE unique than before? add something asymmetrical. remove a sleeve, roll up a pant leg, or something, but never shoes or gloves. they are sacred and you shouldn’t do that to them.

idk someone pointed out that i was apparently allergic to necks because i kept giving designs chokers or scarves or whatever. they’re usually solid in color

[mythicamagic]

Thank you! I was confused wondering why. That is bad writing. Sesskag promt “Promise me. Promise me you’ll stay.”

AN: I decided to combine two prompts, since this turned out to be WAY longer than it needed to be. It’s now a proper oneshot length, 3,000+ words lol (this is the last prompt, thank you for sending them in!)

Four claw marks licked their way up from collarbone to the edge of Sesshoumaru's chin. They were healing now, but the flesh remained red and sore. In a way, the Daiyoukai had been lucky to lose only the use of his vocal cords, as he could've easily lost his jaw.

Such a disgraceful injury for one so proud.

Kagome hadn't been there at the time during his battle with an eight tailed kitsune, but she noticed the after-effects. Sesshoumaru still visited Rin at the village. He still looked unaffected, haughty and holier than thou, and yet...

She frowned, watching Jaken chatter to him. Golden eyes were narrowing, brow twitching. His lips parted, as though wanting to say something, before they pressed into a thin, grim line. With frustration marring his features, the demon lifted a hand.

Jaken stopped. "Mi Lord? What ails you? Do you require assistance? Ah! Do you want me to fetch Rin for you? Because I can-"

Sesshoumaru reached into his white and red hankimono, producing a piece of parchment. Gracefully folding his legs beneath him, the mute lord took out some ink and began writing his response.

The abject humiliation colouring his proud features tugged at Kagome's heartstrings. She'd heard from Jaken that Sesshoumaru's throat would mend in a few months at most considering demon healing. The idea of seeing him having to struggle to communicate for such a long stretch of time strengthened Kagome's resolve as she grasped an idea with both hands. Turning on her heel, she headed for the Bone Eater's Well.

---

"Sign...language?" Rin tilted her head.

Kagome nodded, seated in a clearing before the little girl, the imp and the frowning Daiyoukai. She'd thought it best to discuss such a sensitive subject in private. Inuyasha would likely laugh if he saw Sesshoumaru being instructed by a human.

"It'll help Sesshoumaru communicate with you both instead of resorting to writing everything down. It's just a temporary solution until your vocal cords heal, but this is usually helpful for deaf or mute people."

"Bah!" Jaken lifted his head up snootily. "The great Lord Sesshoumaru does not need the likes of a human technique in order to get across feelings to his loyal vassal- gah!"

Sesshoumaru's foot had smushed down on his head, pinning him to the grass.

"Mrph- see! That means he wishes for me to be quiet. E-excellent communication mi Lord!" Jaken squeaked out from under his boot.

Golden eyes lifted to Kagome's, and Sesshoumaru inclined his head to prompt her to continue.

Smiling and emboldened, she turned to her book. "Souta had a girl in his class who was hard of hearing so I helped him learn some sign language. I picked up a bit from the experience, but I'm by no means an expert. So! Let's all help each other learn."

Rin clapped her hands and gave a cheer of exuberance. Deciding to start, Kagome gave them some easy and basic things such as greetings and general enquiries.

"This is- 'how are you?'" Motioning with both hands, Kagome looked at her pupils, Rin watching her and replicating the movements perfectly. Jaken had smaller arms and hands, so his signing was a little different, but competent.

Sesshoumaru remained still.

Frowning, Kagome looked over the top of Rin's head at him. Her cheeks puffed up. Maybe he found it embarrassing but the others were obviously trying.

Thin lips tugged up at the corners from her glare.

Deciding to continue, the young woman went into other subjects such as places and basic items. When dusk started to settle in, Sesshoumaru abruptly stood and left without another word.

Kagome folded her arms, feeling more than a little peeved. Here she'd been, trying to help him express himself all day. A thank you would've been nice.

"Byyye Lord Sesshoumaru!" Rin called after him, waving as Jaken hurried to follow. She then noticed Kagome's dark look. "What's wrong?"

"Huh?" Broken from her thoughts, the miko gave an awkward smile. "Nothing, it's just...if he didn't want to be taught he could've left at the start."

"Ah, you don't need to worry. Lord Sesshoumaru is really happy you're taking the time to teach us."

Kagome had her doubts about that but didn't reply, ruffling her wild hair with affection.

---

The very next day, upon stepping out of Kaede's hut and stretching her arms with a tired yawn- Kagome jolted. She'd near bumped into a sturdy chest-plate. Sesshoumaru stared intently down at her.

Raising a brow, the miko set both hands on her hips and waited.

Golden eyes crinkled at the edges with wry amusement. Sesshoumaru stiffly raised his hands, signing 'I need your help.'

Kagome immediately became concerned, but he turned a palm out flat and looked mildly annoyed, frowning at his hands.

Trying to align her thinking with the taciturn demon, who would never ask for 'help' she said; "do you require my assistance, Sesshoumaru?"

Glancing up, some tension seemed to leak from broad shoulders. Nodding once, Sesshoumaru pivoted smoothly on his heel and gestured to follow. Biting her lip, Kagome smiled a little to herself and ducked into the hut briefly to grab the sign language book, before hurrying after him.

After wrapping an arm around her waist and gathering clouds of youki to their feet, Sesshoumaru flew into the sky with Kagome in tow. They'd travelled for a little while, with Kagome sneaking glances up at his regal features. Her eyes had naturally drifted to the angry-looking cuts healing on his throat.

Inhuman eyes flicked down- catching her staring. Kagome swallowed, voice gentle; "do they hurt? They look painful."

Sesshoumaru shook his head slightly, though his lips thinned resentfully. His claws came up to ghost over the abused flesh.

The ridiculous, random urge to kiss his wound entered her mind, and Kagome blushed, quickly looking ahead. Where had that come from? Not like a kiss is going to make it all better. Idiot.

---

Sesshoumaru took her to the Western Stronghold of all places.

Completely out of her depth, Kagome stared as Jaken helpfully spoke 'for' his lord, who she assumed had relayed his wants earlier. All three of them stood before a large gathering of demons within an official-looking room, sitting around a low table.

"And so mi Lord requires you all to learn this 'sign language' from the miko Kagome, in order to communicate with you himself. Though she is a filthy human, please bear with her teachings- ow!" Sesshoumaru prodded him aside with his foot, before raising hooded, glowering eyes at the council of demons. Irritated, deadly fingers twitched at his sides.

The demons hurriedly agreed to learn.

And Kagome? Kagome felt that she didn't have much of a choice but to help.

Teaching a group of pristine, upper-class demons that looked as though she was the bane of their existence wasn't exactly easy. Luckily Sesshoumaru sat with them most of the time, but others he had duties to attend to.

Kagome taught them as best she could, and when some outright refused to demonstrate what they'd learned, Sesshoumaru sent them withering glares. His youki would slide out, thick and choking like heady smoke from flames.

The demons would then quickly raise their hands and start signing.

"Very good, advisor Kito. Oh, but your hand should lie flat on that last part," Kagome said, continuing to instruct.

"General Takamatsu, please don't make that gesture. It's actually a little rude."

"Lady Kaaya, can you-"

A hand rose in the air. "What is the point in our learning how to communicate in sign ourselves if we only need to ascertain what Lord Sesshoumaru is saying? This is a waste of time." A burly looking battle demon frowned.

Kagome blinked and hummed, folding her arms. "Well, I find that the best way to learn something is to demonstrate it yourself, rather than just reading what the signs mean. If you feel like you know enough, then you can go. I won't stop you. But," she smiled. "I won't teach you again. Hopefully you'll know what Sesshoumaru is signing to you. I dunno if he'd be too pleased if you misinterpreted his wishes, do you?"

The various demons in the room broke out into chuckles or soft giggles hidden behind ornate fans. The burly demon's ears turned red, and he piped down grumpily.

Inwardly grinning, Kagome continued with the lesson, not noticing Sesshoumaru's unwavering attention on how she moved, the way she spoke, the brightness of her gaze that could sharpen into annoyance.

He stared, and thought of them long after the teachings were over.

----

A few days later, Inuyasha had inevitably arrived, asking just what the hell she was doing.

“Teaching, duh."

"Why though? Not like you owe that bastard anything. Besides, he ain't even paying you!"

Kagome snorted and laughed, tidying the makeshift 'classroom' she'd set up. "Neither does Kaede when I deliver her medicine or pick herbs. But it's fine. Know why?" She reached out and pat the Hanyou's shoulder. "Because we're friends."

"Keh. Like Sesshoumaru counts you as a friend."

That stung a little more than she thought it would. Kagome glanced away and shrugged. "Well even if he doesn't see me like that, I feel like I'm doing some good here. He's been communicating with his staff and advisors so much easier using sign."

Inuyasha grumbled to himself, not exactly liking it, but unable to dissuade her. Not much could sway the stubborn miko once she set her mind to something.

---

Venturing out with Rin one afternoon a few weeks later, Kagome adjusted her summer hat. Inuyasha had brought over her yellow backpack during a visit, allowing the priestess to leave the Stronghold dressed in more modern clothes.

Kagome assured Jaken that they wouldn't go far, just for a little wander in the adjacent forest that bordered the sea.

"It's nice to visit Lord Sesshoumaru's home sometimes," Rin smiled, adjusting the collar of her summer yukata.

"Yeah," stopping on the dirt path, Kagome glanced back at the imposing compound. "Do you sometimes wish you lived here permanently, instead of the village?"

"Mn, no," Rin shook her head. "As much as I love Jaken, Ah Uh and Lord Sesshoumaru, I'm really enjoying Kaede's teachings. She says I'm very good at telling apart the different plants! I stopped a farmer from picking some poisonous berries just the other day!"

Kagome grinned and followed her through the forest and onto more rocky terrain, the ocean within view beyond the lower trees as they stood on a dusty hill.

"That's great. I'm really happy for you to have found your feet."

Rin nodded, skipping ahead a little, before turning back to look at her. "Do you think you've found your feet here too, Kagome?"

"I guess so?"

"It's just…" Rin fiddled with her hair. "You've been really helpful to Lord Sesshoumaru. Maybe you should be the one thinking about staying here."

"H-huh?" Kagome stopped, feeling the ground shift tenuously under her feet but too distracted to move. "That's...I mean it's a little sudden and random. I'm sure he wouldn't want me hanging around like that. Besides once I'm done teaching, Sesshoumaru will probably want me to leave. I've got no reason to stay."

"There's every reason to stay!" Rin burst, practically trembling with emotion. "He would not say it even if he could speak, but you surely must know that Lord Sesshoumaru-!"

Kagome didn't hear the rest. The fragile rock beneath her caving in the second she took a step back too hard. Yelping, blue eyes flew wide- hand reaching out in vain as the miko dropped feet first into the darkness below.

"Kagome!" Rin called after her, hearing a splash.

Fretting, tears pricked her eyes as she waited, straining her hearing. A cough sounded out from down below. "I-I'm okay, Rin! There's water down here. I think it leads to the ocean but I can't see a thing further in."

"I'll help you-"

"No! Don't come any closer to where I fell in, Rin. The ground isn't stable. Just go and get help, sweetie. I'll be fine."

Rin rubbed furiously at her eyes and nodded, though Kagome couldn't see her. "A-alright! I'll go back to the Stronghold! Hang on!"

Gingerly moving around the hold in the ground, the little girl took off at a sprint in the direction of the Western Fortress.

---

Kicking her legs to stay afloat, Kagome took a few steadying breaths to try and keep calm. The hole above in the cave ceiling provided the only light, the rest of the space pitch black. She wasn't sure how long Rin had been away for. It could have been one minute, it could've been ten. Ethier way, insidious thoughts began to worm their way into her mind.

She didn't know what was in the water with her.

Her imagination began to go wild. Images of giant eels slithering through the current beside her filled her head. Maybe a demonic shark was closing in on her right that second, or the tentacle of an octopus.

Something brushed her ankle.

"AH!" Kagome shrieked, making a break for it in the water. Later on, she'd wonder if it had merely been her other foot brushing against her ankle that had caused the sensation, but at that moment she didn't care. Before she could make it too far however- a sudden flux of water came gushing through the cave. Waves sailed through the tunnel that Kagome was swimming in, sending her flailing through the current and away from the only available light source where she'd dropped in.

Surfacing from the rapid waves that tossed her in the water, Kagome reached out blindly. Now drenched in shadow, she had no choice but to try and get out of the death trap.

Panting, the miko kicked to propel herself forwards, and soon felt solid rock meet her hands. Putting all her strength into her fingers and clinging to the side so as not to be swept away again, Kagome cried out and squeezed her eyes shut.

A hand wrapped around her wrist.

Starting, Kagome stared up unseeingly at the stranger, following their insistent tug that instantly pulled her waist free of the water. Scrambling out of the rushing waves and pulling herself up onto the side, she caught her breath and flopped down onto solid earth.

Soaking wet and nerves shot, she numbly twitched her fingers around the hand still occupying her wrist- quickly withdrawing her touch when feeling claws. A demon.

Her first instant had been to inquire ' Inuyasha?' However, she remained quiet. Kagome inhaled a familiar scent, heart thundering in her ears.

"Sesshoumaru?"

A scratchy, croaking garble wavered out in response. Instead of being dismayed, Kagome reached out in the dark, feeling smooth skin and the hard line of a jaw. Her thumb dragged over a parted lip, and that noise came again, throaty.

That's what he sounds like when he tries to speak?

"Don't try to talk," she murmured, drawing herself up to sit and weakening. Luscious, soft fur wrapped around her waist, nudging as if possessed with it's own will to draw her closer into a steady heat. Kagome's bare legs met hakama clad thighs. Her cheek rested against the silky feel of his hankimono, no armour meeting her hands. A heartbeat drummed strong and steady beneath her ear, and for some inexplicable reason, tears chose that moment to sting her eyes.

The rush of fear that had been held at bay burst like a dam, and Kagome wrapped her arms around the demon lord, giving a muffled sob into his chest and trembling. "I-I was so scared," she confessed into the dark.

A palm rested on the crown of her head, dragging down soaked dark locks and curling into the strands. Serotonin hit her like a freight train the second it registered that Sesshoumaru was petting her hair. It shouldn't have affected her, but Kagome trembled and pressed herself harder against the security his silent presence offered. A rumbling came from the depths of his chest, like a throaty croon.

Lifting her head, Kagome couldn't see anything in the thick darkness, but smiled into the unknown. "Even with your throat scratched up, you're still trying to comfort me?" She giggled weakly. "Careful, or people will talk."

Two hands grasped hers, raising them into the air between them. Sesshoumaru then opened his palms and kept her touch on his hands as he moved them, signing something that had her breath hitching.

'Let them talk.'

Blinking damp lashes, Kagome swallowed and wet her lips. Lifting her hands, she gingerly touched his face, blindly moving one to his ear, the other dragging down his cheek. Closing her eyes, she managed to get a visual of his face, mapping out the points of his ears, the silky fall of his hair, how his strong jaw felt, captured in her palm. Lips pressed against the pads of her fingers after she accidentally touched his nose.

Raising herself on her knees, Kagome seized her courage and tilted her chin up- relief flooding her when lips found hers in the dark.

His mouth felt simultaneously firm and soft. Kissing him, the miko felt two hands running down her sides, splaying wide on her hips and lifting her onto his lap. Parting her lips, she felt a wet tongue slide into her mouth, brushing toe curlingly light before-

"Kagome! Ya down here?!" A distant voice shouted.

Jolting, a long exhale shuddered out of her, cheeks burning. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, his cold skin blissful against her own feverish one, while Sesshoumaru made a low, frustrated noise.

Stupid Inuyasha.

---

After Sesshoumaru lifted her to the exit, which turned out to be the mouth of the cave that bordered the sea, Inuyasha checked her over. Rin had been a sobbing mess. After assuring them as best she could, Kagome was taken back to the Stronghold.

Disappointingly, Sesshoumaru had to leave to attend a meeting that he'd had to put on hold in order to go save her in the first place.

Sighing, Kagome towelled her hair and sat on the porch outside her room. A dip in the hot springs had helped relax her frazzled nerves. Inuyasha had been pretty insistent she leave. In his own way, she knew he was just worried after the minor scare, but she'd turned him down.

There was something she needed to confront first.

It took a few hours. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, subsequent oranges, pinks and purples from the sunset replaced with a dark, cloudless sky.

Kagome looked up at the stars, clutching mokomoko a little tighter around her shoulders. He'd left it behind, and it acted as a barrier against the chill in the air. It smelled like him. Don't ask her how she knew that.

The creak of weight shifting on wood caught her attention, and Kagome turned to see his figure approaching. Sesshoumaru stared, yukata a little loose, exposing a pale sliver of his chest. She quickly diverted her attention to his golden eyes- which were laughing at her.

Kagome huffed, raising a brow when he signed; 'I thought you'd leave with my brother.'

Blinking, she wasn't entirely sure how to take that. When the Daiyoukai gracefully sat down beside her however, eyes guarded, she let the words slip out. They were awkward, and perhaps a little cheesy, but they were sincere.

"I chose you- can't you see?" She gave a soft, nervous giggle, heart thundering. "I'll always choose you."

Silence swallowed them whole, feeling like a physical weight. The rustle of silk signalled Sesshoumaru moving, before lips ghosted over the corner of her mouth, silver hair falling forward to tickle her cheek. Kagome eased into the warmth of his body as naturally as breathing, feeling a hand settle at the base of her spine.

"Promise me," a thin, scratchy sounding voice demanded softly. "Promise me you'll stay."

Sucking in a startled breath, emotion filled her lungs alongside the sharp intake of air. Stinging blue eyes squeezed shut, and Kagome smiled and nodded. "Of course I will, silly. For however long you want."

She felt his mouth smile against her burning cheek.

"Indefinitely, miko."