#my whole head is a fashion color for the first time in my life

[we-survive-endlessly]

Goodbye two toned silver Rae, hello purple Rae!

[thelargefrye]

ATEEZ AS MIDDLE SCHOOL TEACHERS ... bullet - point fic ( 17+ )

pairing : teacher!ateez x teacher!f!reader (separately)

genre : teacher au, fluff, comedy, workplace romance, bulletpoint headcanons, implied co-workers to lovers (for all of them), secret relationships (for a lot of them)

word count : 4.1k

warnings : middle schoolers (yes this is needed), mentions of students shipping their teachers, mentions of a past make-out from college (mingi's section)

note : inspired by these prompts and my own job lol

honorary tag : @sanjoongie

what i think it would be like working with ateez in a middle school and perhaps being something more than co-workers with them.

KIM HONGJOONG

he's a math teacher – seventh grade and also head of the math department at the school

when he's teaching, he's in his element and he's very passionate about teaching his student and the content

he was terrible at math when he was a student and often tells his own students in order to motivate them...

sometimes it works but most times it doesn't

he's definitely one of the more stricter teachers at the beginning of the year, but lets up near the end of the year

students love him, like there's not one kid who hates him

some students do wonder how he manages to get away with his funky hair colors, but no one really questions it anymore

he's also very stylish and is known for his fashionable looks that make him look like he just came off the runway

the two of you met when you started teaching at the same school, he's been teaching for two years longer than you have

you also teach seventh grade and immediately clicked as friends on your first day

he answers any questions you have that isn't content related and is kind of seen as the head of the seventh grade as well

he gets along well with the older teachers who have been doing this for 20+ years, those teachers either go to you or him when they need help with the new programs that admin is making them use in class

a lot of the students ask him if you two are dating because you're the younger teachers in the grade-level and are always hanging out

"dating? why are you worried about who i'm dating? we have equations to worry about," he would say and always brush them off

most of the students drop, not really wanting to make hongjoong upset but that doesn't mean the question won't come up again later on

your students will also ask you the same question and like hongjoong, you brush them off and not really answering them

the students would often go back and forth on if you two were dating or not with some even trying to provide "evidence" that you were dating

and some students gave up on thinking that their literature and math teacher were dating

until one day you showed up to school wearing a cardigan

and not just any cardigan

a cardigan that hongjoong wore a month ago, one that students knew was custom made by their teacher himself

and the whole seventh grade lost their minds because holy cow, their literature teacher and math teacher WERE in fact dating

the evidence of you wearing hongjoong's cardigan was enough to convince all the students it was true

so then some of them decided to confront you both

"teacher kim, teacher l/n we know your secret."

you and hongjoong were of course confused because of course your students had to be cryptic about everything... seventh graders 😒

"we know you guys are dating! teacher l/n, you're wearing teacher kim's custom cardigan!"

hongjoong had never turned his head so fast in his life and he immediately looked at the cardigan and sure enough

it was his

and you two were busted because now all your students knew you both were at least something, if not more than friends

PARK SEONGHWA

seonghwa teaches eighth grade reading / literature, he also has his masters in special education and administration

he is also the teacher that heads student council – like he built it from the ground up after the teacher before him let it crash and burn allowed it to be ruined

but seonghwa rebuilt the student council club and now its flourishes thanks to his leadership skills and teaching the students those same leadership skills

being a teacher is like a family job, his mother was a teacher and taught at the same school that he now teaches at

he wanted to become one to continue her legacy

students think he's way too handsome to be a teacher

he's also way too nice to be a teacher but like... none of the students ever give him issues

like even the behavior students don't disrespect him like they would other teachers – its kind of crazy

you had always admired seonghwa because of how good he was at his job and honestly... you were kind of jealous of him too

but you wouldn't dare tell him

you can't help but be amazed when you watch him speak at department meetings and how he always voices his thoughts so elegantly

seonghwa is also never afraid to help you if he sees you struggling or to ask for your opinion during meetings when he notices you haven't spoken

and he'll always back you up which surprises you because you aren't friends or even in the same grade

you kind of developed a crush on him but again you would never tell him or anybody for that matter

which to be honest, your crush and admiration is probably what lead you to volunteering to help out with the student council overnight trip to a student council convention

it was you, seonghwa, plus the ten student council students that qualified to go

you really never knew who exhausting planning a field trip was and seonghwa amazed you once again with how well-planned out the trip was

it kind of made you feel guilty because of how little you did to help out with the planning

"don't feel bad y/n! i'm glad you volunteered to come, i usually struggle with finding someone to come with me to help chaperone."

"really?"

"yeah."

well... that did make you feel a little better

and of course since you two were the only chaperones, that meant the two of you got to room together

the students were pretty sure they almost saw you pass out in the hotel lobby when seonghwa told you that

"teacher l/n, are you okay! you don't look so good!"

"i'm fine..."

"you're fine with sharing a room together right?" seonghwa asks once the two of you are alone in the hotel room

the students were also in their own hotel rooms and winding down after the long trip, you could feel yourself sink into the bed once you got into the room

"its fine, i don't mind," you tell him and seonghwa gives you a warm smile as he settles down on the bed next to yours "are field trips always this exhausting?"

"only the overnight ones"

"great"

JEONG YUNHO

eighth grade history teacher but he's also taught sixth grade history in the past as well

yunho is very serious about teaching and strict when it comes to listening, doing work, being respectful, etc.

especially in the beginning of the year, but does let up a little bit near the end and after exams and stuff

he has a strict schedule that he follows when teaching his content and knows his content like the back of his hand

he has a routine and the students are quick to learn it and make sure the others are at least doing what they are suppose to be doing when the bell rings

but despite how strict and stuff he is, yunho loves teaching and the kids love his class

even if they don't like it at the beginning, the class and yunho will grow on them before the year is over

even the other teachers respect yunho and will ask him on how he teaches certain events and whatnot, always going to him for tips on where to find good materials

yunho is like the jack-of-all-materials

even has his own tpt page because of how much stuff he has made for his own class and co-workers

you will also always find him and san hanging out together in each other's room during their planning time

usually gossiping about students or other teachers

students have learned that when san walks into yunho's room, then its serious because san never leaves his room during class time

also no one ever really bothers yunho because of how strict he is with teaching and getting everything he needs done, to get done

however, students are shocked when you walk into yunho's room one day WHILE he's teaching to ask him a question

like their jaws drop when yunho stops teaching in order to help you with something and laughing with you as he brushes your apology off

it was like they just watched a mean dog turned into the friendliest puppy when you walked in

some of them questioned if they were transported to a different reality because there is no way this is happening

you and yunho are like night and day, yunho with dark button-ups and you with your funky colored pants

"you're seeing this to right?" one of them would whisper to the other students around them

the students were too stunned to speak

"hey! get to work, i expect you to have these notes written down by the time i'm done," yunho would say and immediately the students would get to work

"thank you teacher jeong, i appreciate the help with this new program"

"sure, its no problem," he says as he walks you to the door. "choi came to me during planning asking about it plus some other teachers as well"

"ah, well glad i'm not the only one struggling!" you let out a laugh and yunho returns it and laughs with you, "i'll see you after school, yeah?"

"of course"

you wave as you close the door behind you and yunho immediately goes back into his teaching mode

once again leaving his students shocked and with whiplash from how fast his attitude changed

"we really were in just another reality"

KANG YEOSANG

seventh grade history but wants to one day be a librarian

yeosang loves history but is also certified to teach reading/literature

a lot of the students and teachers love him for how nice he is to everyone

he really connects well with the behavior students, like a lot of them will always say he's there favorite teacher

even the ones who never come to class, go to yeosang's class because who in their right mind who skip teacher kang's class?

no one that's who

students will always go to him when there's an issue because they know he will help them

that's why a lot of them are surprised when they find out him and wooyoung are best friends since high school

"you and teacher jung are best friends!?"

"yep! have been for years!" and yeosang is proud to say that him and wooyoung are best friends and can teach together at the same school

none of the students can get over how handsome he is as well and a lot of sixth graders can only hope to get him in seventh grade

"teacher kang, you're so handsome you could be an actor!"

yeosang can only smile at the comments, not really saying anything as he's use to those comments by now

well coming from his students or other adults that is

however, hearing those comments (or reading them) from you is a different story

he doesn't know how you manage to time it whenever his students are doing independent work but you do

he'll be at his desk or walking around, when you come in and some the students will immediately greet you

you simply smile and wave at them before walking over to hand yeosang something

"i got the stuff from your mailbox while i was at mine," you told him

yeosang thanks you and you smile at him before turning and leaving

you usually go to the mailbox when you need a break from your class and there's already someone in there to help

yeosang looks at the stuff in his hands, and notices the folded piece of paper that had his name written nicely in your handwriting

he opens it as he walks to his desk and immediately feels a warmth overtake his face

'you look really pretty today, yeo ;) can't wait to hangout after school in our usual place! miss you already!'

yeosang quickly stored the note in his desk, before quickly going back to teaching and trying to hide the excitement of seeing you later to the back of his mind

CHOI SAN

eighth grade reading/literature teacher along with seonghwa and school's volleyball coach

he played volleyball when he was in school and so he's very passionate about the sport and his athletes

a tough coach and an even tougher teacher, but only because he knows all his students can do better than what they showing him

like seonghwa with student council, san managed to help the volleyball team go to nationals thanks to his coaching and the his girls' effort and teamwork

a lot of students are scared of him because of how he coaches, especially his athletes – like even just the mention of san gets them scared

but really san just wants the best for all his students and just like volleyball, he's also passionate about his teaching

very writing focused versus seonghwa who is more reading based, but they work really well together to make sure all their students are getting the same knowledge and material

san's not afraid to speak his mind during department meetings and the other teachers know this – like he will straight up call something out if he knows it won't work

seonghwa usually has to cut him off because of this, they are a very funny duo and students love watching them interact

"teacher choi is like a dark cloud and teacher park is like a sunny day"

like the kids, you are also intimidated by him because of how much just pure authority he gives off

like you would think he's a principal from how students act around him

he actually does step up as an admin when the actual principals are out of the building because he does have his masters in administration, so he could very well one day become a principal

but going back to you being intimidated by him 💀

you never really dared to approach him, always sitting on the opposite side of the room during department meetings

mainly because you didn't want to get on his bad side

"please teacher l/n, can you help us start this club?"

"sure, girls!" you were more than happy to help sponsor their club "who's the other teacher?"

you watched as the girls' faces deflated at the question, of course you don't blame them for not knowing that clubs needed two teachers to become official, not just one

"i have a teacher in mind!"

"who?" "tell us!"

"coach choi, can help! especially since volleyball is over!"

you felt the color drain from your face at the thought of san and you running a club together

"teacher l/n will you ask coach choi if he can help us?"

"sure... i'll ask."

"a club?"

"yeah, some of your volleyball girls recommended you and wanted to see if you could be the second teacher sponsor."

"ah, that's right. the school has that stupid two teacher club sponsor rule. always did think that was dumb."

san thought for a minute which felt like a lifetime the longer you stood in his classroom

"sure, why not. i'm sure it'll be fun to run a club together."

"i'm sure the girls will also appreciate it. i'll send you the information when i hear back from the principal about the club."

"of course, if you have any issues let me know."

"will do, thanks!"

that was definitely a lot less nerve-racking then you thought it would be...

maybe running a club san won't be so bad after all

SONG MINGI

mingi is THE ms. frizzle aka the best science teacher you will ever have

he teaches sixth grade science and is always having some sort of fun with testing experiments and theories with the students

science class will forever be ruined after you have him as a teacher because no one is doing it like mingi

literally older students will come by to see either him or wooyoung and they will always ask mingi what he is currently doing in that class

and while he's an amazing teacher – he's also hella clumsy

like students learn fast not to leave their things in the floor if they don't want this 6ft tall man tripping over and possible destroying their things

someone save this man from all those decorative pencil pouches and metal water bottles pls 💀

anyways, a lot of students love mingi because of his fun personality and not because he almost below up the science lab because a experiment gone wrong

very much into team building and having all the students work together towards a goal because he knows how important teamwork is in life and wants students to have it

a lot of students are actually intimidated by him when they first see him because of his tall stature and harsh look

but he's really cool once him and the students build that rapport

so a lot of students were surprised when they found out that you and mingi were best friends

it never really clicked for most of them since you both taught different grades AND subjects

but then during school assemblies and such, you and mingi would always be sitting next to each other

whispering and laughing to each other and it would leave students bewildered when they saw the two of you

like "what in the world are they laughing about?"

"you know... the kiddos asked me the other day about us," you said, leaning over and whispering into his ear

"yeah?"

"they asked me how long we've been friends"

"w-what did you tell them?"

"since college, i left out the part where you made out with my best friend before tripping over her bag and landed into my lap."

you could tell mingi was blushing, his ears turning red at your words

"i-it wasn't like that!"

"i know, no need to feel embarrassed. i agreed to go out with you didn't i?"

you couldn't help the smirk on your face while mingi had a pout on his own, completely forgetting that the two of you were suppose to be watching the talent show and not flirting

JUNG WOOYOUNG

teaches sixth grade math and is an on-going menace to his students

you either love or hate him because of how he teaches and runs his classroom

always changing the seating desk arrangement in his room which keeps students on their toes

he's always a complete 180 from hongjoong who is the head of the math department

like students get whiplash when they go from wooyoung to hongjoong because of how different they are

but that's not to say wooyoung is bad at his job, on the contrary wooyoung is fantastic at his job

always has a math pun ready to whip out when needed and is always dishing out savage remarks to his students when they try to be a smart-ass to him

they learn quick that they won't be able make smart comments with him around

wooyoung is just very blunt with how he's feeling – like if a student makes him mad you'll know he's mad

does a lot of bootcamp punishments (i.e makes them do exercises when they don't listen to him like: jumping jacks, squats, nothing too extreme) this makes kids not want to disrespect him because they know what will happen if they do

some parents have thought it was "extreme" but he simply told them "well it got your child to listen for once in their life" – that shut the parent up real quick

but wooyoung rarely gets serious because he has the respect from students and so those bootcamp punishments are rare and few in-between

most of the time he's fun and playful which also travels over to how he acts with his fellow teachers

including you

wooyoung always visits you when he's on his planning period

like your class can always expect him to stop by at least once during their class

which none of them mind cause that means they can see their favorite math teacher again but don't tell hongjoong that

however with his constant visits, it makes students question if you guys are dating

especially when wooyoung is always complimenting you when you're at your desk and you both think that the students can't hear you

"you look very lovely today, teacher l/n."

"watch yourself, jung."

you eventually have to run wooyoung off so you can get back to teaching

"oh they are totally dating" students would whisper to each other watching the two of you interact

students really really ship you guys together and are always questioning you about your ideal type and stuff

but you always brush off their questions and comments about how you and teacher jung would look great together

and eventually the students had moved on to something else and you were thankfully left alone about your love life by your students

until one day when you and wooyoung were spotted by some students outside of school

you and him had went to the store together, not really thinking about school as you both spent time together

however that peace between the two of you was set ablaze when heard a familiar "teacher l/n! teacher jung!" and snapping the two of you out of your daze

wooyoung was quick to greet the students who approached you both, a smile on his face and arm around his shoulder

and you knew your secret was out because of how the students' zoned in on wooyoung's arm around your shoulder

you couldn't help but dread what would happen when you arrive at school tomorrow

"i didn't like keeping it a secret anyways," he would making you smack the back of his head in response before pushing the shopping cart and walking away from your boyfriend

CHOI JONGHO

eighth grade math who got roped into teaching seventh grade science as well

jongho is really in his element when it comes to math

and is really hanging by a thread when it comes to science

like he's the opposite of mingi and HATES science – like who thought it was a good idea to have this man teach it?

oh, they did a budget cut and so they were down a science teacher? makes sense.

the kids either love or hate him because of how he teaches

his eighth graders and seventh graders are like night and day when it comes to literally everything

it might also have something to do with the content but just let him complain about his seventh graders

you actually found him one day in the workroom stressing over his science while eating his ramen

you remember some of your kids talking about jongho and you've seen him at faculty meetings

but never had a one-on-one conversation with him mainly because he was in a totally different content and grade from you (he was still an eighth grade teacher at the end of the day)

you know hongjoong really likes him and praises him for learning how to adapt so well to a new content era that he never studied in

you think that for a first-year teacher he's doing a lot better than you had when you were in his shoes

and you figure what's the harm in talking to him and seeing how he's doing

"everything going okay, teacher choi?"

he's caught off guard by your voice, jumping and looking up at you as you walk over to get your copies from the copier

"oh, um, i'm fine. just thinking about what i'm gonna do for my science class"

"ahh, that's fair, i still can't believe they have you teaching science and math for your first year"

jongho lets out a laugh which is followed by a small "yeah... i can't either"

"but hongjoong says that you're doing a good job for your first year, so you should be proud! hongjoong never compliments anyone"

"really?"

"really. and just know that if you ever need help just reach out. i know you're not a seventh grade teacher but us who teach seventh grade needs to stick together. its a tough group."

"oh my god, i'm so glad you think that as well! i thought it was just me!"

"oh no, everyone knows seventh grade is always the worse year, we all struggle with them at some point"

"that really makes me feel better about doing my job"

"jongho, you're doing a great job. the kids love you and there will always be those kids that make you feel like you are terrible at your job. but all you have to do is teach to the ones who want to be there, and worry about them."

you tell him the exact same words you were told when you were a first year and thinking the same thing

"thank you, y/n"

you can't help but smile as you nod your head, taking your copies and heading back to your room while jongho finishes his ramen

tag list : @frankenstein852 @watamotee33 @kawennote09 @mixling-blog @marahleiwhen @kpopnightingale @harry-the-pottypus @pyeonghongrie @sanniesbum @marvelahsobx @khjcoo @mysticfire0435 @exfolitae @dementedaly @simeonswhore @moonm1st @nvmbheart @spooo00oky @frgogh @sookacc @seongwin @burnsmepls @ad0rechuu @tunaasan @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @cheesekimchi @confusedmoonchild777 @mjyungi @innieontop @iweirdthingsblog @s0obinluvr @worcesheshestershiresauce @moonlightgrleric @wineyoungie @jeongwangjessmina @lemineso

network : @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

[frvnkcastles]

I just know Frank would feel a different type of pride if reader got her nails done and got the color he suggested.😌☝🏼 He’s like “damn she actually took my opinion into consideration”

YOU PUT MY HEAD IN SUCH A FLURRY ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You involve Frank in getting your nails done, much to his surprise and delight.

Warnings: Implied sexual content, mostly just fluff, feminine nicknames, language

Word count: 1k

Author’s note: Okay this was supposed to be just a drabble but it kinda got away from me. Anon, you’re absolutely right, he would be so invested and he’d think about it nonstop for days. This was such a wholesome idea, I hope I made it justice <3

He thought it was so silly that you would ask for his opinion on the matter. You getting your nails done in itself wasn’t silly in the slightest — in fact, he enjoyed seeing you get all dolled up and more importantly, he loved how confident you seemed afterwards. It was obviously important to you, and he went out of his way to encourage it, either by driving you to your appointments or even paying for the whole thing.

But asking for his thoughts? He didn’t know what to say, stunned speechless as you stared at him sweetly and expectantly, genuinely curious as to what he was going to answer. He wasn’t stylish or fashionable at all, and he definitely didn’t understand the first thing about color-coding nor did he stay on top of the latest trends. So, when you wondered what he thought your next nail color should be, he struggled to come up with a response.

”Uh… I dunno, darlin’. Don’t wanna give you the wrong answer”, he replied while scratching the back of his neck, his current task of cooking for you on hold as he watched you smile up at him from across the kitchen counter. He knew exactly what your favorite color was, but he supposed that would have been the obvious, no-effort choice.

You chuckled softly, a little amused by his hesitation. ”There’s no right or wrong answer, baby. I just think it’d be nice to have something you picked for me”, you shrugged, insisting that it was just a very casual thing and not something he needed to start sweating over.

A sheepish smile crossed his lips. He was a big fan of your every-day outfits, the way you did your make-up, and yes, also your nails. He knew it mattered to you, so it meant a lot to him that you wanted to involve him in the process.

”Aight, uh, I’mma go with red. Y’know I fuckin’ love seein’ you in red”, he huffed, riled up at the mere thought. It was true — there was no color he didn’t appreciate on you, but whenever you were dressed in red especially, something in him just came to life in a whole new way. He had shown you his admiration multiple times, occasionally resulting in you being late to wherever you were headed just because he couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

You blushed and nodded, receptive to the idea. ”Red it is. Think you can handle it, Frankie?” you teased, very aware of the effect it would have on him. He played it cool, though.

”Guess we’ll have to see, sweetheart”, he challenged you, grinning in that charming way that made your head spin every time.

After the lunch he had been making for you, it was time for your appointment and he made it his responsibility to drive you there, his hand on your thigh as he steered the car. And when you walked in the salon, he held your hand all the way until he couldn’t anymore, giving a look to your go-to nail artist.

”Take good care of my girl, yeah?” he requested, half-joking even if the look in his eyes was grave. You couldn’t hold back a smile, butterflies in your stomach all thanks to his protectiveness over you.

He spent the whole appointment seated in the small waiting area, and the sight of him was so endearing. He wouldn’t touch any of the magazines available, just sat there with his hands folded in front of him and his eyes scanning the area over and over again. Every now and then his alert stare would land on you, and it cracked his stoic expression each time, a small smile tugging on his lips as he watched you ramble to your nail artist about your week.

When you were finally done, you pranced over to Frank, smiling widely and waving your hands in the air with excitement. His heart swelled at your joy, and he tilted his head at you curiously, waiting to see what kind of a look you ended up with.

When he saw the red on your nails, surprise dawned on his face and his smile dropped — not because he didn’t like it, but because he was just that amazed you had taken his opinion into consideration.

”You went with red?” he asked, eyes wide as he met your gaze, so kind and soft. You didn’t really understand what the big deal was, and a little laugh escaped you.

”Of course, I did. That’s what you said, silly”, you reminded, and nodding to confirm, Frank chuckled quietly.

”Yeah, yeah, I did. Just didn’t think… I dunno, just a lil surprised you thought my opinion was that important”, he tried explaining his own surprise, his eyebrows knitted together as he observed the nails, his hand gently grasping yours. You let him take it all in, tilting your hands back and forth to fully appreciate the shine and the details, and it boosted your ego beyond belief. Your nails were a big part of your appearance, and it felt good that Frank always showed love for them, even if he didn’t entirely get it.

”Your opinion is the most important. And now, every time I look at my nails, I’ll think of you”, you explained shyly. Truly touched by your consideration of him, he looked into your eyes and closed the distance between your lips. The kiss was short and sweet, appropriate for being in public, but he hoped it conveyed just how special this moment was to him. And in case it wasn’t, he was already decided on kissing you a lot more at home.

”I’preciate it, sweetheart. Looks real good”, he praised, taking one last look at your nails. Pride surged in his chest — he would have never wanted to take your independence from you, but he liked feeling like he had some kind of claim you. A part of him was with you now, and while it wasn’t permanent, it was enough for him to feel particularly cocky. He had the best girl by his side, after all.

”My gorgeous girl, goddamn”, he muttered under his breath, finding the red incredibly attractive, and it made you grin.

Surely, he was going to show you just how much he liked it later tonight. And he definitely was going to ride this high for days.

[cuubism]

last year I saw this 1989 Dreamling art by @webonchin, became extremely obsessed with it, pondered and mulled over it for much time, and now ten whole months later I have a fic

--

my kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder

Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, 1989 Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Meeting, Musician Dream of the Endless, Stockbroker Hob Gadling, Love at First Sight, Getting Together, New York City, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Queer Themes, Disillusionment, Explicit Sexual Content, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Depression, tfw you meet someone who makes you want to change up your whole life Summary:

Despite Hob's success on Wall Street, life is starting to feel meaningless. Limitless sex, drugs, and money should be endlessly entertaining but instead he's bored, he feels empty, like something's missing.

Something, maybe, like the beautiful, tragic musician he meets at a party, who opens more than one new door in Hob's life--and reawakens the buried longing in his heart.

--

Hob lies on the couch of the crowded apartment he’s found himself in for the evening, head tipped back over the arm. Pounding music thumps distantly around him. Dim lights. Warm bodies moving in blurs. He ignores it all. Picks up his vodka soda from the coffee table and takes a swig. Half of it runs over the side of his mouth instead of into it.

He’s… bored. What’s wrong with him that he’s bored surrounded by as much drugs, sex, and general debauchery as he could possibly want?

But he is. All that climbing for so long and now… he doesn’t know where he is. Why he’s doing any of it. The climb, the growth, was fun for a while. Chasing hunger, chasing more, that was fun. But now he has all of it. Supposedly.

He sighs. Pours the rest of his drink inelegantly into his mouth. If he wants another one he’s going to have to get up. He doesn’t really feel like getting up. He feels like merging himself with the couch instead.

The party spins on around him, as it always does. Not everyone’s feeling as burnt out on sex, drugs, and debauchery as Hob is.

He could go track down some coke, he thinks hazily. Someone here’ll have some. Maybe it would kick his energy back up.

He just feels kind of tired at the thought.

It says something bad about the point he’s reached in life that even cocaine isn’t doing it for him anymore.

“This is very dull,” says a low voice, and a man slumps down beside him, sitting on the floor and leaning back against the couch. He tilts his head back, looking up at Hob. “Do you think so?”

“Yeah,” Hob says, and then does a double take as he catches a proper look at the man.

Christ but he’s gorgeous. Nothing like the men Hob would normally see at a thing like this—nothing like Hob himself—with their fashionable suits, slick hair, slicker smiles. This man is lithe and sprawling, like a wild predator, stark black and white lines, spiky hair, dark makeup, studs flowing down his ears like raindrops. Clever eyes. Long fingers clutching a cocktail that he doesn’t seem particularly interested in.

Hob is instantly fucked.

“I was promised good drugs and better sex and I’m bored on both counts,” the man continues. He takes a sip of his drink, and grimaces.

“That why you’ve come over here?” Hob asks. “Because I looked equally bored?”

“Exactly.” He offers the drink to Hob. “You should try this.”

Hob takes it. It’s… very blue. “What the hell is this?”

“There was a girl working the bar… very drunk. She said she would make me her ‘special potion.’”

That sounds… questionable. Hob takes a sip, and chokes. “Christ.”

“I witnessed her pour in vodka, Prosecco, and tequila. Blue Curaçao—for color, of course. And maraschino cherries.” He plucks one out of the glass by the stem—there are about seven of them total—and eats it.

“What the fuck.” The stuff’s revolting. Hob takes another sip. “That’s alcohol poisoning in a glass.”

“It’s been one of the better parts of the night,” the man says.

Hob returns the glass, and the man tosses more of the drink back, his throat working. Hob’s just drunk enough to not attempt to stop staring like a creep. He wants to ask him if he wants to get out of here, or even just to steal away into one of the many spare bedrooms—it wouldn’t be out of place at a party like this, hell, Hob could drag him into his lap on the fucking couch, everyone’s far too drunk to care—but propositioning this creature for a mere hookup feels like wearing an Italian suit to mud wrestle. What a waste of a perfectly-made thing.

How did something like this wind up at this party?

“Who’d you come in with?” he asks, as the man plucks another cherry from the glass and delicately bites it off the stem.

“Someone who gave me a rather mediocre blowjob after a show,” he says. “I suppose I thought I would find better here, but I was mistaken.”

“Fifty-fifty shot on that, I’d say,” Hob says. Based on personal experience. Sometimes mediocre is good enough. Sometimes sex, regardless of quality, is good enough. For a while it has been. He’s not so sure anymore.

“I dislike betting,” says the man. Then stretches up a limp hand to shake Hob’s. “If we are to commiserate, perhaps names are in order. I am Morpheus.”

Morpheus. What kind of name. Though he had said at a show. A performer of some kind? “Hob,” says Hob, shaking his hand despite the awkward angle.

“Greetings,” says Morpheus solemnly. “You are the first man I’ve met tonight who has not tried to impress me with inanities. I am indebted to you.”

Hob tips his head back against the arm of the couch again with a sigh. “Too tired for bullshit. What’ve people been saying to you, then?”

“I have been taught much,” Morpheus says seriously. “Thrice I have been ���educated’ on the great promise of ‘mortgage-backed securities.’ The reactions to my disinterest ranged from offense to outright concern for my sanity.”

“I think they were just trying to get in your pants,” Hob tells him.

Morpheus frowns. “The finance lecture was not helping their case. In fact, with each passing minute, I became more aggressively repelled.”

Hob laughs. “You’re on Wall Street, baby,” he says. It comes out kind of slurred. “Only thing more important than the size of a man’s dick is the size of his portfolio.”

Morpheus hums in consideration. “Neither of those has a direct correlation to talent.”

“Try telling them that,” Hob says.

Morpheus sits up straighter against the couch, leaning his head on his arm to study Hob. “I suppose I should ask about yours.”

“You’re too pretty for me to be tacky like that,” Hob says honestly. Maybe he’s a bit more drunk than he thought.

“Am I?” Morpheus seems pleased.

“So pretty.”

“Hmm.” Morpheus rests his cheek on the couch cushion. The tips of his hair brush Hob’s hip. His eyes are so liquid in this light. Hob wonders if he’s hallucinating his existence.

He reaches out, mesmerized, to touch Morpheus’s hair. Morpheus doesn’t stop him. He lets Hob pet him, eyes falling shut. His hair is tacky on the ends with hair spray, but soft underneath.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Hob says, and Morpheus hums. “All those self-important stockbrokers trying to impress you with their convoluted financial instruments… they just want to hide that it’s all really a scam.”

“Is it now?” says Morpheus. “I was under the assumption it was legal.”

“Something can be a scam and technically legal. Oh, it’s all very clever. But it’s just building money on top of money with nothing real to support it. Kick out the base of the tower and it’ll all go into free fall.” He makes a whistling, falling sound, and Morpheus smirks.

“And I suppose you are better than all this.”

Hob chuckles. “Oh, no. I’m a money-grubbing little vermin, too. Just letting you in on the game. How it’s not so serious.”

“Hmm. I am a musician,” says Morpheus. As Hob figured, then. “I’m afraid it’s as serious as death.”

“Hence the all-black ensemble and the makeup,” Hob says.

“Indeed.”

Hob wants to hear Morpheus play. Or sing, or whatever it is he does. He bets he’d be exquisite. Divine. Hob can imagine those lips pressed to a microphone. Or those long fingers on guitar strings.

“Do you want something more interesting than alcohol?” says Morpheus.

“Why, you still bored?”

“Less and less so.” He pulls from his pocket a small bag of pills and hands it to Hob.

“You brought your own drugs to a party where you were promised drugs?”

“Promises cannot be counted on,” says Morpheus seriously.

“What is it?” Hob asks, then decides he doesn’t care, and takes a pill, chasing it with the watery last drops of his drink, which is a terrible idea, but then, he’s full of them.

“Ketamine,” says Morpheus. Oh, great, Hob thinks. Morpheus takes it back from him and takes a pill himself. “It occasionally makes me feel less like I am going to hurl myself from the balcony.”

He doesn’t seem to be joking. “Good for something, then,” Hob says. “Why do you want to jump off the balcony?” He still has his hand in Morpheus’s hair. He honestly can’t believe he hasn’t propositioned him yet. That’s not like him. These parties are usually only good for quick, casual sex. He even thinks Morpheus would probably agree, and yet.

“The state of things,” says Morpheus. He has such a deep, solemn voice. Hob wants to touch his mouth, or throat maybe. Okay, this is already not going so well. “And the state of my heart.”

Hob pets his hair again. Morpheus leans into the touch. “Writing songs about yearning and angst and stuff isn’t fixing it?” He can well enough guess what Morpheus’s music is probably like.

“No,” says Morpheus. He seems to really think about it. “I think it is making things worse. Perhaps I will try manipulating the financial markets instead. Is that giving you existential fulfillment?”

“There’s only so much money you can make before it starts feeling stupid,” Hob says. Maybe he should just throw all his cash out the window and go live in the woods or something. Carve figurines out of fallen trees. Probably do more good for the world, not that that’s ever been a focus of his. “Maybe it was always stupid.”

“No solution has been found for us yet, then,” says Morpheus. “Would you care to go outside? I find that if you are high enough, the city lights look like stars.”

“You’re not going to jump off the balcony, are you?” Hob asks, suspicious.

“This is not the right locale for my dramatic end.”

Somehow, Hob actually believes him. Morpheus wouldn’t truly kill himself unless it could have the right effect.

Hob levers himself up from the couch. Oh Jesus, now the room is spinning. The pounding music is starting to feel louder, starting to thud through him. Feels good, though. Everything being bright and hazy.

He helps Morpheus to his feet. Leads him, hand in hand, out to the balcony. They lean against the stone wall, looking down at the street, dizzyingly far below, cars poking along like lines of luminescent ants, distant horns crying. Then up, out at the collision of skyscrapers.

Morpheus was right. The lights are spinning and twinkling, just like stars. It reminds Hob of the first time he’d come to New York, when he was looking for adventure, and to get a little rich—or a lot rich—and everything had seemed like it was glowing and buzzing and flying.

The air is clearer up here than down on street level, and Morpheus tips his head up, breathing it in. His throat is so long, his shoulders and collarbone so angular. He looks like he’s been starving. But the stud in his ear at least looks from afar like a real ruby. Intentional, then, to be skin and bones.

“I think I am tired,” he admits, still looking up at the sky. “Do you know that… all I had ever wanted was for someone to like my music. And now I have that and it has not fixed anything.”

Hob takes his arm and pulls him close. He’s feeling very touchy-feely now, which could be the drugs but could also just be Morpheus. He’s so pretty and he looks so sad, and his sadness is beautiful and all the more terrible for that.

“I could kiss it better,” he offers. It’s still not a real proposition. Hob’d just kiss his hand if that’s what he wanted. Or the sharp bone of his sternum under those hanging necklaces. Or kneel at his feet and kiss his thigh—

Christ. Hob’ll be lucky if he survives the night, at this rate.

Morpheus looks at him, eyebrow raised. But Hob must look serious about it, because he says, “Okay.”

So Hob leans in and kisses his cheek. And Morpheus smiles, a bright, truly happy smile, just for a moment.

“Do you wish to dance?” he says. “I do not usually, but I feel I may fall over if I move from this wall without something to hold onto.”

Yeah, the floor is kind of moving. And Hob will certainly not turn down having Morpheus in his arms. “You wanna dance to this shit?”

They’re playing some godawful thumping grating song over the speakers now, and Hob doesn’t think either of them is up to the kind of bouncing thrashing dance that would call for.

“I will sing something different in your ear,” Morpheus says.

So Hob draws him in, wraps his arms around his waist. Morpheus plasters himself to Hob’s body, mouth to the shell of Hob’s ear. He starts humming a low, melancholic song. Hob shivers at the brush of his voice.

They sway together with very little coordination. Eventually Morpheus starts singing, though Hob’s brain isn’t capable at the moment of taking in many of the lyrics. It’s something about longing, and losing things in a terrible fire. Hob presumes it’s one of his songs. Morpheus’s voice is gorgeous, low and hypnotic, and Hob closes his eyes as it rumbles straight through him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs eventually, filled with a sudden tragic pain about it. “Please don’t throw yourself off the balcony.”

Morpheus chuckles. “Another time, perhaps.”

“Never,” Hob says vehemently, and clutches his warm body close. He might cry about it. Fucking drugs. “We should go get food. You’re so fucking bony I think might you die of an overdose if we don’t sop it up. You had that wretched drink, too. Christ.”

“You are worried for me?” says Morpheus, sounding touched.

“Incredibly. Come on.” Hob finally pulls away from him, with chagrin, and takes his hand. “This party’s shit. I’ll take you to get pizza.”

“Pizza,” Morpheus repeats, with a tiny smile. It’s gorgeous on his face. “Very well.”

--

One dollar pizza is one of New York’s greatest inventions, in Hob’s opinion. They find some hole-in-the-wall place barely a block from the apartment building, and stand outside the door, eating incredibly greasy pizza off of paper plates, and it’s fucking heaven. It might be the best pizza Hob’s ever had in his life—granted he’s still very high.

Morpheus is scarfing his down like all pizza on earth is about to be chucked into space. Poor bony thing. Hob just wants to feed him up until he stops looking like a skeletal waif that’s about to drop dead at a cold breeze.

And wants to fuck him, too. Yeah, that’s still there, even with Morpheus licking grease off his fingertips. It’s actually getting worse because of that.

“Told you,” Hob says. “Needed some bread to soak up the fifteen shots in that drink.”

“I think I may throw up,” Morpheus says, with the careful articulation of someone who very well might. “But I am enjoying it nonetheless.”

“Let me know and I’ll find you a bin,” Hob says. He’s had worse nights than puking on the street corner.

“Now I owe you sexual favors in return for this generous meal,” says Morpheus, folding the empty paper plate with surprising precision, considering his enduring level of intoxication, and sliding it into a nearby trash bin.

It says something about Hob’s own level of intoxication that he barely responds to this statement. “Oh, yeah, the whole four dollars of it. What does that get me?”

Morpheus scrunches his nose in thought. “Two kisses,” he decides.

“We’ll save it for after you’ve decided if you’re going to throw up.”

Morpheus giggles. He’s so cute.

Hob tosses his own plate, and takes Morpheus by the arm. “Come on. You can come back with me. I don’t live that far.”

“Ah, now the proposition,” says Morpheus, but doesn’t sound unhappy about it.

“The ‘make sure my new friend doesn’t get hit by a cab effort’, more like, but sure.” He feels kind of responsible for Morpheus now. If Morpheus actually threw himself off a balcony Hob would never forgive himself.

“Friend,” repeats Morpheus, sounding pleased.

“See, isn’t this better?” Hob says.

“Better?”

“You got to eat pizza and didn’t even puke yet, isn’t that better than killing yourself?”

Morpheus huffs. “Quite a dichotomy. If you recall you too stated that you felt your efforts becoming meaningless.”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna jump out a window about it.”

“Fortitude,” Morpheus says, and it sounds mocking but Hob doesn’t really mind. Maybe it is fortitude, he doesn’t know. Maybe to Morpheus fortitude is gullibility, continuing to play the game when it’s long lost its spark and its reward. Hob likes the game, though.

“What will you do about it, then?” Morpheus asks.

“Dunno.” It’s the first time Hob’s really thought about it. Up until now, it’s been about chasing. Always wanting more. But now— now he’s basically at the top. Where he wanted to be. And... there’s really nothing there at all. “Leave New York, maybe.”

The words surprise him, even as he says them. Midtown is so bright, even at four a.m. It’s something Hob once loved about the area. About the city. But now he’s staring into Morpheus’s darkness. Into the ink stain of his hair against the glowing storefront lights, the sway of his body, graceful even while swimming in dissociation. And everything feels different.

“To go where?” says Morpheus.

“Back to London, maybe.” He has enough money to go anywhere. And yet, it’s hard to feel a particular point to anywhere. Where’d his sense of adventure go? His ambition? Somewhere it all slipped, in the glut of the present.

“I grew up in London,” Morpheus says. “It is too personal there, now.”

So he’s chasing something too. Or running away.

“Tokyo, then,” Hob says, as if Morpheus coming with him is a key part of the decision. “Is’at the furthest city from New York? Gotta be close.”

“It’s Perth,” says Morpheus.

“You’ve looked it up?”

Morpheus nods solemnly. “And from London: Wellington.”

“It’s settled, then,” says Hob.

“I am coming with you?” says Morpheus.

“Course.” Hob’s not going across the world by himself. Not anymore. He bumps his shoulder with Morpheus’s, squeezes his arm where they’re leaning together. “You’re coming with me.”

“We should go further, then,” says Morpheus.

“Antarctica?”

“Mars.”

Hob finds himself giggling, mirth rising in him like champagne bubbles. Morpheus giggles, too. It’s truly a ridiculous sound in his deep voice.

“They don’t have cool jackets on Mars,” Hob says, poking at Morpheus’s studded blazer.

“Ah.” Morpheus frowns. “Maybe not, then.”

That only makes Hob laugh louder, leaning on Morpheus’s arm, and Morpheus sighs, irritated to be made fun of, but doesn’t push him away.

“Come on, I’m here,” Hob says, steering Morpheus into his apartment building as it comes up. They make their way across the lobby and to the elevator bank, only a little unsteady, and then slump against the wall once the elevator doors close.

“I think I am very sleepy,” Morpheus says, tipping his head back against the mirrored wall as they go up, up, up the insanely tall skyscraper Hob’s for some reason chosen to live in.

“You think you are?”

Morpheus squints at the infinite tunnel being created by the opposing mirrors on the walls. It’s dizzying, more so now, when they aren’t exactly sober. He shudders and closes his eyes. “I would have to be connected to my physical form to know for sure.”

Yeah, Hob’s feeling that too. The walls are kind of tipping in at him, which is particularly uncomfortable when they’re mirrored. “I’ll put you to bed, sweetie.” He still really, really wants to bed him, more specifically, but he might also be about to fall over. He’ll rue the missed opportunity in the morning, but it can’t be helped.

“Sweetie,” Morpheus echoes, with vague distaste, and tips his head against Hob’s shoulder.

The doors slide open, and they stumble out into the hall. Hob somehow manages to get his keys in the door and get them inside without dropping Morpheus, who’s now using him to support almost his entire weight, and then gets them into the bedroom.

What follows is a dreamlike whirlwind of undressing, where the floor keeps tipping under him, where he tries to hold Morpheus up as he slips out of his boots and his bloody complicated jacket, his skintight jeans and even tighter shirt, helps take each ring off his slim fingers to leave carefully on the nightstand, and the pendants too, and gives him a t-shirt to sleep in, and Morpheus says, “Wait— I must—” and flees to Hob’s adjoining bathroom to strip off his makeup with some makeup wipes scavenged from Hob’s cabinet, undoubtedly left behind by a prior hookup. The silly thing talks about killing himself but still puts effort into skincare. Hob just shakes his head, then regrets it as it makes the room spin.

He strips down to boxers and undershirt and climbs into bed, because he is actually about to fall over, and soon enough Morpheus stumbles back out and collapses into the sheets beside him. For a moment they just gaze at each other in the dark. Hob means to do something, to kiss him, maybe, claim one of the ones that was promised. But exhaustion claims him first. 

[facioleeknow]

Time for love ° Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin. the immortal Adonis, falls for a human.

WC: 2094 Genre: Greek mythology AU, angst, smut

TW: make up artist reader, model hyunjin, smut, masturbation, thigh riding, handjob, mention of cum, borderline asshole hyunjin, greek gods and goddesses, mention of blood, angry hyunjin and angry deities

AN: thank you from th ebottom of my heart to th elovely @leeknowsallyoursecrets , for giving me her opinion about this.

My Kofi if you want to support me <3.

Hyunjin was old. Hyunjin was really really old. Eternal youth they called it. When one thinks about youth, they imagine freshness and fun; a colorful, colorful phase when you get to try new things and explore the world. Hyunjin’s life was anything but; he had seen every corner of this earth and tried every experience that was humanly possible. His life was flat and gray, there was nothing more to do and he was bored.

He remembered his first life. His name was Adonis and he was considered the most beautiful man in the whole world; he was so beautiful that goddesses soon appeared on his doorstep and asked to share his bed. That’s how his story became myth, or what people thought it was.

He had lived many lives from then, he had taken many names and done many things, he lived a tranquil life and minded his business; had sometimes taken a couple of lovers but nothing that had stuck to him. 

His life and pattern of change had come crumbling apart when one day the gods decided to come out in the open and introduce themselves to humans. With time everything was uncovered and the protagonists of every myth became their own kind of celebrities. He had never been more famous in his life, but he also had never been more lonely. He was beautiful and that was a fact, and with the fame came the modeling offers. He modeled for the most famous maisons of fashion of the world and people loved him. No they didn’t love him, they loved his body, they loved his face, they loved his fake smile and fake confidence.

His days were always the same, he would wake up at an insane hour, get on set, get ready, shoot, get unready, check social media and then go to bed, just to do it all the following day. Day after day the cycle had never been broken, for years on end. Until it had.

When he walked inside the photo studio, he could sense something had shifted in the air. He hated changes. A heavy hand smoothed back his unruly hair, his eyes closed almost on instinct after he sat down in his makeup chair. He had requested a special chair, made of one of the softest furs he had ever touched, where he could sleep and relax.

Something warm and small suddenly touched his shoulder, hesitantly. He hissed and his eyes shot open, his staff knew better than to interfere with his pattern. 

His breath hitched in his throat when he opened his eyes. This wasn’t his usual make-up artist.

“Sorry to disturb you Mr. Hwang, I am Y/N L/N, your new makeup artist,” your voice was sweet, way too sweet to be human, but he knew all deities by heart. Perhaps some kind of creature.

“What happened to Ha-na?” his eyes bore holes into your skull, his gaze held a fiery passion you had never seen in your life. Is this how an immortal looks?, you thought.

“She’s on maternity leave, sir,” you had never felt that nervous in your life.

The conversation died off after that but his eyes were fixed on you. There was something about you that Hyunjin couldn't quite pinpoint, his inside felt like they were lit on fire. His head told him that if he looked away from you, something bad would've happened. He had to have you, one way or another, he didn't even care if you were human or not.

Since that day Hyunjin had always waited anxiously for your arrival every morning. You would always greet him with a tight lipped smile while you closed into fists your obvious shaky hands. He liked to think your hands were shaking and your heart was beating out of your chest because of him. 

At night Hyunjin would lie awake and think about you, your hair, your lips, your hands, your eyes, but most of the time he would think about what laid under your clothes, how your curves would look and how they would feel in his big and soft hands.

He had to have you, he didn't care if you were human or not.

The second time Hyunjin spoke to you, it was weeks after your first encounter.

“What are you?” his eyes bored into yours like the first time you met.

 “What do you mean sir?” 

His presence felt almost overbearing, it looked like he was towering over you, it felt like he was everywhere, you couldn't run from him. But in reality he was still sitting in front of you.

“Don't play coy. What kind of creature are you?” 

“Creature? I'm human, sir,” your eyes wide as saucers at his assumption. You? A supernatural creature? 

“Are you lying to me?” His tone was stern and demanding.

“No, sir, I would never.” 

He didn't reply.

He was scary. Immortals were scary and dangerous for humans more than anyone else. You should've been fearful of him but a familiar throb between your legs kept growing and growing and you couldn't help but feel ashamed.

Hyunjin could feel your arousal, he could read it on your face. After centuries he could read human emotions quite well.

“Everybody out!” His tone left no space for arguments. The staff and photographers scurried out of the room with their hearts in their throats.

“Come sit.” The immortal patted his spread legs, his big hand encased your wrist.

“Excuse me?”

“You don't want to?” he sounded cocky now, a new emotion he let you see.

“I didn't say that,” you stuttered.

“Then be a good girl and straddle my thigh.” 

His hands never left your body, not even when you complied and positioned yourself how he asked. He was in control, he was the one guiding your movement.

A small gasp escaped your lips when you felt him ground you on his strong thigh.

“Please sir, touch me,” the shame fueled your pleasure like never before.

“No can do, get yourself off like this or don't at all.”

That was the best orgasm of your life.

After he touched you, Hyunjin couldn't get enough of you. He thought your voice was sweet at first, but your moans were even sweeter, your skin tasted like nectar and your pussy like ambrosia. He was addicted.

Sleep came easier to him now but not even in your dreams he could escape you. Your voice, your sweet whines, your skin, your scent, they all clouded his brain even in his slumber. He'd wake up hard as a rock every night and leaking. He would fuck his fist roughly, just how he liked it, he would use all of his toys and cum again and again until his seed had permanently stained his satin black sheets. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. He had to feel you clench around him, he had to feel you rake your nails down his back, he had to push your legs to your chest and see fat tears roll down your cheeks.

So he would get up and drive to your house where he would fuck you until you both passed out. It became some sort of routine, one that he followed religiously. But the more he saw the bigger a foreign and strange feeling grew inside him. It started at the pit of his stomach and then spread through his chest like a warm blanket enveloping him in a tight hug. It was comforting and that unsettled him.

He was confused and ignorant, he hated that. But he knew that it didn't come from him, somebody was attacking him. That's how Hyunjin found himself in front of the goddess of love, Aphrodite, herself.

“What have you done to me?” he yelled. He knew yelling at a deity was not a smart move but the anger was consuming him, mixing with that strange feeling and making his blood hot.

“You cursed me, didn't you? You cursed me because I don't want to share a bed with you anymore, you selfish woman.” The moment those words came out of HYunjin’s mouth he regretted them. The room started shaking along with the anger of the goddess, everybody knew not to anger Aphrodite. he was foolish, he thought he could get away with it because he used to be her favorite lover. The goddess grew in stature, the light bulbs in the room exploded, leaving the only light her angry eyes. 

“You foolish human, how dare you speak to me like this,” this was not Aphrodite the goddess of love, this was the goddess of fiery passion and victory, “ I did not curse you. You do not hold significance in my eyes anymore, you are a mere human. Humans all fall in love, it’s their destiny.”

The walls of the pristine white room they were in started to crack under the gravity of the goddess full immortal form. Hyunjin knew that the fact he was not dead meant that Aphrodite let him live as a sign of charity and because of the time they shared their bed. But she did not give second chances, she never had so he quickly kneeled and when he felt the presence of the immortal get gradually less overbearing he got up and walked backwards until back hit the door as a sign of respect and then left. 

The drive home was pure madness, flashes of rage traveled through his body like lightning before leaving like nothing had happened. Hera was punishing him for angering her daughter, nothing was less expected from the goddess of family. When he stumbled into his house, with shaky hands he grabbed his ceremonial cup and offered his bloods to the gods to appease them and as a thanks for sparing his life.

The following day Hyunjin avoided looking at you in the eyes, he had never looked away from you, not even once. You were so used to having his fiery gaze on you that now your whole body felt cold as ice. 

‘Maybe he’s tired,’ you thought while you worked. Tired or not, you felt him miles away from you even if you were touching his skin with your very own hands. Something had shifted between you. 

The next day felt like a deja vù, Hyunjin still had his eyes closed and he still refused to talk to you. You felt wronged and cold. The following days followed the same pattern, it felt like a terrible nightmare. His nightly visits had also stopped and so did his texts. 

Anger and frustration were eating away at you. Work had started to get tougher and Hyunjin’s attitude was making your mental health drop. The last straw was the pouring rain, you were stranded at work, with no umbrella, when all you wanted to do was go home, eat ice cream and sleep.

Fat teardrops started dropping down your cheeks, why was this all happening to you? Why couldn’t you live in peace? Why was Hwang Hyunjin doing this to you?

“Are you crying?” That voice. Hwang Hyunjin.

“That’s none of your business, Hyunjin,” you furiously wiped at your cheeks.

“It is,” his hand cupped your cheek and you had no strength to fight it, “ it is because you are the only woman i’ve ever loved in my long life.” Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Say that again.”

“You, “ he paused, “ are the only wo-”

You didn’t give him the chance to finish his sentence, your lips attached to his and you richest deflated with relief. Kissing him felt familiar and natural. The recognizable desire that always lit within you when you were with him started spreading through you like wildfire. Your hands quickly traveled to his pants and unbuttoned his pants without thinking, you had done that countless times. His dick was already hard and leaking, waiting for you. Your soft hand wrapped around his velvety skin and tugged and moved just how you knew he liked, how you knew drove him mad. Your lips found his neck and nipped and sucked at his pulse point, his weak spot.

“Oh, baby, I’m not going to last, I think I’m cumming.”

A quick swipe of your thumb against his slip made him spill all over your hand, his head thrown back in ecstasy and his eyes tightly shut.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, lover, but first let me return the favor.” 

A hand on his chest stopped him.

“Take me on a date first.”

“Whatever you want, lover.”

[buglordsupreme]

Mouthwashing HCs because my old ass is not immune to rotating characters in my head like a microwave.

❤️‍🩹Anya❤️‍🩹

•28 years old.

•Eastern European, most likely Slavic or from Central Europe.

•Can speak more than three languages. Has an accent.

•Has a long term partner back home. They want to get married but both of them are broke.

•Has two pet cats. Originally, she was allowed to bring them on board with her, but then Pony Express changed their policy and stopped allowing animals in ships.

•She is constantly diagnosing everyone both physically and mentally in her imagination.

•Has a very rich inner world but rarely feels safe sharing it.

•She keeps getting rejected from med school not because of her abilities but because she constantly overthinks and gets too nervous during tests.

•INFP and Pisces.

🪓Swansea🪓

•61 years old.

•He is from the East Coast, probably the Boston area and has a heavy accent.

•British and Irish descent.

•Did not go to College but did go to Trade School.

•Despite being originally from a city, lives in the suburbs around a wooded area.

•Has a loyalty card in most hardware stores and strong opinions about screwdriver handles.

•He calls his dog a “stupid fuck” lovingly and talks to him as if he were a human.

•Has struggled a lot with depression throughout his life and has not gone to therapy as he feels like it would not work on him.

•ISTP and Virgo

🐴Jimmy🐴

•37 years old.

•East Coast, Rhode Island area.

•Italian-American. And yes, he does use his hands a lot when he speaks.

•Likely raised Catholic but now believes “it’s all bullshit”.

•Thinks Chicago-style pizza is an abomination but he can’t cook for shit.

•Long history of awful short-lived relationships and at least one ex has tried to kill him during an argument. (And vice versa)

•Has one kid that he claims isn’t really his. Resents having to pay child support.

•Has smoked ever since he was 14.

•Has been charged several times with petty crimes which have made it hard for him to find work.

-Before Curly helped him out with his position at Pony Express, he was fired from his last job due to embezzlement.

•ESTP (A very unhealthy one) and Capricorn.

🎂Curly🎂

•40 years old. (My HC is that he turns 40 during the Tulpar’s last trip, which is why he is having his whole midlife crisis).

•Born and raised in Canada.

•Moved to the US around his teens or young adulthood (Probably met Jimmy around this time as well).

•Has a bachelor’s degree in Aeronautical Engineering but, since most ships are now operated by machines, had to settle for being a Freighter Pilot.

•The only man in existence that finds shoveling snow relaxing.

•Twice married and twice divorced because works makes it hard to spend time with his spouses. Has one young kid but can rarely see them due to, once again, work.

•One of the reasons he thinks about retiring from being a pilot is so that he can spend more time with his family.

•ESFJ and Libra.

🌺Daisuke🌺

•19 years old.

•Filipino-Japanese.

•Second generation immigrant. His parents worked a lot to get their wealth.

•There is no doubt in my mind that he is Californian.

•Not willing to commit to a relationship yet but is definitely on and off with a couple of girls.

•Has tried to get a fake ID at some point so he could get alcohol. He was caught and arrested and called his mom, crying. He was let go without legal consequences but was severely grounded.

•At school, he was known for drawing amazing caricatures of the teachers. Was suspended at least once for this reason.

•Incredible fashion sense. When he got his Pony Express uniform, he immediately asked if they had other colors. Did not understand at first why they laughed at him.

•ESFP and Leo.

[lis-likes-fics]

Music to My Eyes

Pairings: Finnick Odair x deaf!fem!Reader Word Count: 7.5k words Warnings: Mentions of the Games, so killing and death, mentions of trauma, my attempt at writing sign language, pre-Katniss, no Annie... A/N: Hey, everyone! I watched the Hunger Games a few months ago and had a mini obsession and decided to write for it and only now just got half of my fic done. Since it was running as long as it was, I decided to go ahead and split this into two different parts, but I swear the rest of it is being planned and written. Also A/N: Just FYI, anything written in /slants/ is an indication of something being signed because explaining every little sign just does not work. And, also, Hecton Leary is absolutely done by Peter Capaldi in my mind...just in case you need a visual. I was watching a lot of Doctor Who during this so, get ready to see those intense eyebrows all over the place in this, lmao. Also Also A/N: Special thanks to my beta-reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen who I will be crediting more bc I literally forgot to last time and she's too amazing for that! Thanks, Vee! 💖

You don't love wearing dresses—especially not extravagant ones like these, more expensive than likely your entire district as a whole. You also don't love parties like these where you have to wear said dresses, surrounded by tons of people generating body heat and stuffing the room full of perfumes and colognes that make your nose and eyes burn. Your feet hurt from the heels your designer paired with your outfit, and the air is active with words and voices that overwhelm your brain with too much information to take.

Having Hecton beside you is a relief at least—not completely lost in a sea of people as he and you communicate with two rich sponsors from District 1 dressed just a slight less dramatic as you but just as exaggerated.

You watch their lips, painted over with bright colors complementing their attire, as they speak to you. "It must be so hard, isn't it?" the woman asks, spending too much time on "so" as she speaks slowly for you to comprehend. You want to roll your eyes. "Flailing about all the time just to get a few words out?"

The man next to her agrees, nodding his head. You can see his throat shift, and you assume he's hummed a response.

Hecton's hands move with skill as he speaks, partly as aid in translation for you but mostly for the performance people are looking for.

You feel like your lips are going to fall off, you can almost feel them twitching at the ends from how long you've been smiling at all these people who don't know anything about you and assume they know everything.

You widen your smile to show teeth and shake your head, continuing to be as respectful as you can with your social tolerance running low.

Your hands move and, out of the corner of your eye, you can see Hecton speaking as they do. "Not really," he translates. "It's natural for me."

The man puts a hand over his heart and turns to her. "Oh, you poor thing," he says rather dramatically. Hecton doesn't dignify his words by translating that for you—not that you needed it in the first place. His hands remain still, folded in front of him. The man glances toward them, and you can see his brief disappointment at his words not receiving the glory of illustration.

You glance up at Hecton, your smile intact as you slightly squint the corners of your eyes in a silent plea. He answers you gracefully, turning his attention back to the fashionable vultures in front of him.

"This was wonderful," he says, "but I believe our little lady is excited to meet other guests here tonight."

Hecton is an older man with grey hair, pale eyes, and intense brows. Upon looking at him, he isn't the most approachable man. You don't just say no to him—especially as a past victor of the Games who certainly triumphed by a long-shot. He is not weakened by age, but he's definitely wisened by it. Although sobered by surviving the horrors of the Games, it neither slowed nor ruined his life, it simply gave an abrupt end to what little childhood people of Districts like yours can obtain.

One look at the finality on his face and they were fully ready to end their (rather insulting) conversation. They turn to one another, making these awful pity-faces as they hold each other's hands and turn back to heartily agree. "Of course." She puts too much emphasis on the words. "Goodbye, dear."

You nod gently and look toward Hecton for confirmation as he places a hand on your back and turns with you. You both walk away from the conversation gratefully, still smiling for everyone else in the room but moving your hands in silent conversation.

/These people are exhausting,/ you complain, entirely within your right with the way they treat you.

Hecton sighs, looking at you with eyes that understand your struggle. /Just keep them happy./

You nod, remaining light-hearted for both your sakes as you offer a genuine smile before you slip back into a customer service front. /I know, I know./

Lots of eyes are on you tonight, but none so keen as a certain boy across the room. He has basically been watching you all night, intrigued by the way you've been communicating, by the way you draw so much attention without having spoken a single word since you arrived.

He has seen you around a few times—on television, at other parties. He knows your face and that you won the Games like him, but he's never paid enough attention to actually know anything past that. But now, observing you all night, he's interested enough to ask.

His elbow brushes the guy next to him, a victor from another district he doesn't care to specify right now. "Who is that again?" he asks, not taking his eyes off of you as his friend turns to look. "I've seen her a couple times, never remember."

He looks at you and then back at him. "Her?" he gestures vaguely toward you. He nods.

"Victor from District 10, she won the 67th Games." He takes a sip from his drink, leaning back against a table with a hand in his pocket. "Surprised everyone cause she," he shrugged, "can't hear or something."

That definitely caught his attention as he turned full bodied toward him. "Really?"

"Yeah," he swirled his drink around. "She's nice…in a little bunny sort of way." It's not necessarily an insult, more than it is him calling you soft-hearted and skittish.

He walks away without a word, finally making his way toward you to quell his curiosity as he approaches you and takes his sweet time about it.

Your back is turned to him. He briefly wonders the best way to get your attention on the way over, knowing you hate being tapped by the way your shoulders flinch and you strain a smile when you turn.

Then again, no one likes tapping.

When he reaches you, he just folds his hands behind his back and smiles. "Hello," he says simply. Hecton turns at the greeting, prompting you to do the same.

"I'm Finnick. Finnick Odair," he greets with a smile of his own as he regards the both of you. He watches the way the old man's hand moves on his name. Your hand reaches out and interrupts him as you place a gentle palm on top of his. He makes a face—it's not annoyed, just teasing.

You turn back to Finnick, your performance smiling still intact. Hecton speaks while you sign. For a moment, Finnick thinks he'll understand the movements you make—Mags doesn't speak, she has to use her hands to communicate all the time, surely it couldn't be that different—but he is proven wrong when words don't match waves.

"I know who you are. You won the 65th Games, you're from District 4." Finnick thinks, briefly, that your friend's voice doesn't match you at all (which is obvious, of course, but he feels it's worth pointing out).

"Well, then," he responds with a slight chuckle, only glancing for a moment at the way Hecton's hands move as he talks, "I'm flattered you know me. Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same for you…"

You seem surprised by that. He thinks it may have something to do with the way that you haven't had many moments away from conversation since you arrived. Everyone has been too taken by you, too interested in snatching a few minutes.

Your hands don't start moving in that curious way Finnick likes to watch because words are already being spoken. "Mr. Odair, this is Y/N Y/L/N. I am her mentor and translator, Hecton Leary."

Finnick holds out a hand, which each of you shake. Out of courtesy, he doesn't start talking again until after your hands are free. "Wonderful to meet you both. And, please, Finnick is fine. There's no need for formalities when we could be friends, right?"

You still smile as you begin to sign, though your brows furrow. /Why exactly do I want to be your friend?/

Finnick doesn't understand, looking at Hecton for translation. He only says your name, a sort of reprimand as he continues to smile.

/I'm only being honest./

Where you expected frustration from not understanding, you find amusement in Finnick's eyes as his genuine smile widens and he looks between the both of you. "What am I missing?"

Hecton looks at you, raising a large brow and waiting for your reply. You sigh gently and shake your head, remaining civil as you begin to sign.

"Sorry," he speaks for you. "I look forward to establishing friendship with another fellow Victor. Maybe one day we'll…" Hecton gets quiet as he just watches your hands continue to move and your lips continue to smile, full of amusement.

/We'll frolic in the woods together, holding hands and singing songs./

Hecton turns full body to you. He holds his palms apart and brings them together swiftly without clapping them. /Y/N./

You smile wider and hold your hands in surrender, the tiny sound of a giggle slipping out of you. You're otherwise silent as your hands fly. /I'm joking! Tell him it was nice to meet him, and I look forward to being friends./

Hecton eyes you momentarily before relenting, turning back to Finnick with exasperation. "She says it was a pleasure meeting you, and she looks forward to your friendship."

Finnick raises his brows, bowing his head gently. "The pleasure is all mine." He's a charmer, and he makes that clear by reaching out and slowly, softly taking your hand in his (his grasp is so gentle that you could easily take your hand back if you wanted and he wouldn't stop you). He bends forward, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. He straightens his spine and watches you fondly. "Until we meet again."

As he lets go of your hand, he bows his head once more before he walks away. You and Hecton watch him leave. He raises his own brow at you. "Is that blush I see?"

Your hands are quick and exaggerated as you move them. You know he's joking and you're not blushing, but his teasing makes you. /No!/

Hecton's smile is wide and open and you know he's laughing at you, so you call him out for being mean. He drops it just as quickly, once the joke has faded to a funny memory and you both are back to mingling with people who do not care about you.

~

The halls are empty this late in the night. Everyone has retired to their rooms or taken an early train home. It's peaceful, wandering the halls this late and being undisturbed by curious eyes and ears watching you like some wild animal. You enjoy the silence—the physical silence of steady air and only one set of footsteps to track instead of hundreds.

At the end of the hall you wander now is the elevator that takes you to your level. Hecton will be wondering where you are—and if not, it's probably time for you to retire for the night before the victor's interviews with Lucky tomorrow anyway. As you make your way toward it, the lights bright and beckoning, you stop in front of it and click the door button.

It's as the doors are sliding open that you realize you're no longer alone in the dead of this night. You feel it in the prickle of your skin, the change in the weight of the floor beneath you. You look over quickly where the side of your face heats with a new presence.

You see Finnick approaching you, seemingly pleased to see you as he smiles at you, stopping short of the doors to offer you first entry. You grin hesitantly, your confidence from before waning a little with the absence of your mentor and translator. If he tries to talk to you, you're probably going to have a rough night. You press the tenth floor button. He presses the fourth.

Finnick isn't as pessimistic, glancing at you out of the corner of your eyes as you stand with your fingers tangled and your eyes toward the ground. You don't look nearly as cocky this time around—in fact, you seem nervous, refusing to even give him that small, awkward smile you usually receive when stuck in a space next to someone you don't know.

Finnick licks his lips, and speaks before he can correct himself. "Hello," he says, giving you a charming smile before immediately remembering your certain disability.

His curiosity grows when you raise your head, glancing his way but not quite committing.

"Oh, right," he mumbles. His added words spark your attention once more as you finally look at him, moving your hand in a talking motion.

"Yeah," he responds. "How did you know?" You're deaf, but you could tell that he was speaking without even looking at him?

He watches you think for a moment, staring off to try and figure out a way to tell him without Hecton to aid you. You look at him again, raising a hand palm down and shaking it.

"Shaking?" he guesses, raising a confused brow.

You gestured around the elevator, your face etched in concentration, determined to be understood. You sometimes forget how hard communication can actually be for you.

"The room?" he tries. "The room is shaking?"

You make a face, one that says "not quite".

He thinks for a moment, putting your gestures together before it dawns on him. "The air is moving."

You smile, far too happy to have successfully gotten a point across.

Finnick's brows raise, though not in a mocking or upset way. "Is everything really that sensitive for you?"

'It has to be,' you want to say, but you can't. You can read lips, but moving your own to try and copy them is a completely different story. Instead, you just nod and agree.

"I heard that's how you won the Games," he said, before adding on the end with a genuinely impressed smile. "Very cool, by the way." He had spent an embarrassing amount of time—or it would be embarrassing if he actually cared about that—asking party comers about you. Most of the information he got was about the Games, always about the Games. He got the same answers from just about everyone about how you were just so sweet and how it was so inspiring how your lack of hearing helped you to win.

As much as that sweet grin on your face made you want to smile, he wasn't technically right. So you shook your head, and he watched you raise your hands to cover your eyes.

"You were blind?" he wonders, but that doesn't make any sense and he doesn't feel very smart for asking now.

You shake your head and do it again, this time pulling your hands away and then covering your face again.

"You hid," he answers. That makes more sense.

You nod and he hums.

You didn't win the Hunger Games by killing for being killed, you didn't win by joining alliances or traveling in groups and pairs. You won the Games by running and hiding until everyone had killed each other.

When the Gamemakers used their tricks and schemes to flush you out of your hiding places, you found another one to lay low until the end. Yes, there were times when you had to fight for your life, but you were no strong competitor. It was dumb luck that you won. Right up to the end, facing off with the almost-champion after having been hunted down by Mutts. He killed them, and then he tried to kill you.

And that was when your disability was labeled your greatest weapon.

Maybe one day you'll be able to tell him that.

The doors slid open to reveal Finnick's floor. You both linger there in the elevator for a moment, trying to decide what to do from there.

Truly, you should have just waved at him and let the doors close to take you to your own floor. It was late already, you needed to rest.

But…

"Do you like sweets?"

Yes, you do.

You nod, answering his charming smile with a shy one and being upset with yourself in the back of your mind for falling for his obvious charm. If you got hurt, it was on you and no one else. But who cares?

You, you care. Maybe not enough, though.

You follow him off the elevator and into the common room. The kitchen is just off of it, with a long table cleared of dinner but still adorned with snacks—fruits and a few deserts. Finnick slides over a plate of cookies as you take a seat. They're chocolate and very good.

He sits across from you, a little too keen in the way he leans forward. He picks up a cookie between his thumb and forefinger, playing with it absent-mindedly as he speaks.

"Is that," he waves one hand, "usually how you communicate?" He hopes he doesn't sound offensive and takes a bite from his cookie.

You don't seem offended as you shrug. He watches you move your hand like you're grasping a pen, shifting it around in a circle. He understands and, like a dog, goes to grab the supplies for you, dropping his cookie back on the table with little to no regard. He's not necessarily upset about his obedience, if anything, he's happy to let you boss him around—not that you have been—if it means quenching his genuine curiosity with how you operate.

He slides you a notebook as he reclaims his seat, gently slapping a pen on top with a cheeky grin. He seems proud of himself. You hold in your chuckle as you write with the best handwriting you can with the quickness of your scribbles.

/Signing or writing./

Finnick reads it off. He thinks your handwriting is pretty.

"Does it get tiring?" he asks, cookie forgotten in crumbs on the counter. He absent-mindedly pushes it to the side so he can lean closer. "Moving your hands like that all the time?"

His question is one you get often, a repeated question every person asks to suit their shallow interest in you. But you can't bring yourself to be offended or annoyed. Finnick doesn't seem shallow, his curiosity runs deep and his kindness deeper. You're not sure you could take anything he says with offense.

You simply shake your head. /Easy as it is for you to talk,/ you answer honestly, adding the gesture for "speak" at the end to try to be helpful.

He shouldn't be impressed, but he is. "Oh," he says, brows raised in vivid interest. "Is it easy to learn?"

He's full of questions. He knows he probably sounds like a child, piling them on top of each other like tidal waves. But you don't seem upset, so he carries on.

You shrug again.

/Would not know. Depends on person./ You look up at him, and then you add, /You want to learn?/

The way you write is interesting to him. You don't do it in full sentences in an effort to keep it short and simple. But you also don't use contractions, though you try to write as quickly as possible to keep up the feel and consistency of actually speaking.

He smiles slyly and pretends to be shy about it, bowing his head and looking up at you through pretty lashes. "Maybe," he says. "Could you teach me?"

You mirror his expression, bowing your chin toward your chest and smiling at him. /Maybe./

You finish your cookie and rip off the first page to turn to another. He watches you write out the alphabet, quickly scribbling a very poor illustration of a hand gesture underneath each one. It takes a while, longer than you wished for it to.

Finnick doesn't mind. While you're distracted with the activity at hand, he's watching you. You're very pretty, he thinks. With the way you sit to draw, you keep your body open and give yourself the room you need to still see him as you work.

You've got kind eyes. He doesn't think you get that enough. Everyone calls you a sweet girl, but they usually follow it up with something along the lines of "even with her issue".

But Finnick just thinks you're pretty and kind. That's it. No exceptions.

He wants to learn about you without the tainting of word-of-mouth or television programs. He wants to know you. The stuff you love, the stuff you hate, everything that makes you happy, and the stuff that makes you want to throw chairs. He wants to know what your favorite color is, if you like to dance or paint or swim.

Before he can keep daydreaming about whether you like cats or dogs, you look up at him to show off your work. You think it's sloppy. He thinks you did great.

You start going through it with him, showing him the hand signs as you get to them with a patience that amazes him. Once you've gone through the whole of it once, he lifts his own hand to try it out. He looks weird and silly, and you smile as he tries his best.

When he offers a poor attempt at a 'Q', a giggle manages to slip. You probably don't hear it, but Finnick certainly does. His face lights up at the sound. He had heard you make little more than a sigh. Managing to pull a giggle out of you—especially one as pretty as that? It's like winning the lottery.

He goes through it with you a couple more times before he straightens his spine. "So…"

He points to his chest and holds his hand out, slowly moving it to fit the gestures he's tried.

F. I. N. N. I. C. K.

You nod quickly, beaming from ear to ear at how quickly he's picked it up already. You point to yourself and spell your own name out. You move slowly, giving him time to connect each letter to each sign as you go. And when you finish, he spells it himself. A nearly perfect copy, (although perfect may be generous, he's definitely trying and it shows—that's perfect enough in your book).

You carefully tear the page out and set it to the side so he can still see and write excitedly on the next page, your writing almost terrible with how quickly you scribble. /Natural!/

You sign the word after. He copies you, and then tries to spell it out. He gets it right for the most part—even though you're pretty sure you saw him use an 'X' instead of an 'R'.

He really wants to impress you. He doesn't make that subtle, and you're honestly happy he doesn't. It makes you genuinely giddy, the way he's so eager to learn and show off his new skill (a skill he's literally been practicing for no more than ten minutes). You don't realize how far onto the table you've learned. Your hands would brush if you moved them an inch closer.

"I'll keep at it," he replies genuinely at your proud smile. He had no idea someone so silent could be so pleasantly loud. Your ecstatic movements and wide grins compensate for your lack of vocalization. When you speak through your hands or the notebook in front of you, he almost swears he can hear a voice he hasn't heard in place of it, so kind and pretty. Like a song.

You smile too fondly at him, taking in a soft breath before looking down at your hands and sitting back again. You'd gotten ahead of yourself. You don't correct it as much as you should. You're just as fond as you sit correctly in your seat and watch him with intense interest.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you pick up your pen again. He watches you write something down. You turn the book around for him to see.

/Mentor cannot speak?/

"Mags?" he wonders. You nod, tilting your head. "No."

You write again. /Cannot sign?/

"No."

You tilt your head and furrow your brows, a silent inquiry. He shrugs, "Never learned."

You contemplate for a moment, rubbing your neck gently before taking the notepad once more. You show it to him.

/Can teach./ You point to yourself, offering a small grin.

"Really?" he furrows his brow.

You shrug. Why not?

Finnick stares at you a moment, searching your eyes for a joke he knows he won't find. So why would you be so open to helping her? Maybe you're just weird.

His lips curl in a smile. "I'll ask her."

Your own smile grows.

He drums his fingers on the table, watching you watching him. He thinks for a moment, just staring, before he opens his mouth.

"So obviously, you can read lips." You nod. "Were you born deaf?"

You nod and reach for the notepad once again. It takes you a moment to write this time. /Parents did not find out til 2. Was a quiet kid. Did not realize until I never started speaking./

He's so interested in everything you tell him. He hangs onto your every word like pure gold. "So you've never heard anything before? Ever?"

He feels like it's a dumb question. Of course not. But you hesitate, glancing off before you nod.

/Yes./

His eyes go wide with wonder. "How?" He crosses his arms and leans forward on the table.

You thought for another moment, trying to find the best way to phrase it to keep it simple. You tap the pen against your lips and click click click it.

/Before the 67th Games, my team gifted me hearing aids. Thought it would help./ You pull away for him to read, staring at the page before taking it and adding in a new line, /Didn't think I'd make it deaf./

The look on your face told him how much that bothered you—or, at least, a whisper of how much it used to bother you. He thinks you may be used to it by now…

"Seemed to work, huh?" he asks with a slight chuckle in an attempt to brighten your mood again.

But you shake your head as you pull the notepad back. /When Games started, too much. Ripped them out and ran./ You sigh gently, swallowing thickly. /Couldn't handle it./

He listens in, his full attention heeding your words. "So you never wear them?"

You shake your head. /Do not like to./

He nods gently. "Because it hurt?" he asks, trying to understand.

You think for a moment before raising your hand and shaking it like before, meaning a different thing this time. /Kind of,/ you write.

You sigh and raise your hands, loosely clawed in front of you as you bring them into your chest in fists. Then you pick up your pen to translate. /Trust me?/

He nods. "Yeah."

/Sure?/

His second nod is more firm. "Yes."

He watches you grab a hand towel. You lift it up, gesturing to him with it and he nods his approval once again. You step behind him and tie it around his head to cover his eyes.

After you blindfold him, sure that he no longer has sight, you turn off all the lights and spin him around a couple times before you lead him into the living room.

Without his sight, Finnick is reduced to having to let you lead him where you want him. And he trusts you. He sways on his feet for a moment, standing still when you stop guiding him again.

"Can I look now?" he asks, his hands out by his side blindly if not for anything but balance.

He hears your voice, the slight sound of you clearing your throat before humming gently, like you're feeling for it. Then he hears your broken response, unaccustomed to actually speaking.

"N-o," you mumble. He smiles a little, and you think he's weird—in a good way.

After a moment of silence where the both of you just stand there and do nothing, he feels you begin to remove the towel from his face. You don't give him a chance to adjust to the dark, you just flip the closest light on and let him have it.

He winces, shielding his face as the shock sets in. You smile gently as you apologize, rubbing your fist over your chest in a circle. When his eyes adjust to the light once more to look at you, your smile is still a fond apology as you motion to your ears.

He breathes lightly. “That’s what it felt like for you?” You make a “bigger” motion with your hands as you nod. “That’s awful,” he mumbles.

You shrug as you begin to walk back to the dining table to grab your pen and notepad again. As you take a seat on the sofa, you bring your legs up under you and invite him to sit beside you. He watches you write something as you prop the notepad against your thighs. You show it to him when you finish.

/What do you like to do?/

He is happy to answer as he settles back and thinks for a moment before offering his reply. You sit and talk back and forth for a long time. You don’t really keep track as you learn that Finnick loves to swim and he dabbles in cooking when he can. You learn that he likes the color blue, but his favorite color is probably white. You learn that he is a “live life like it’s your last day” type of person because of his experience with the games (a philosophy you have adopted yourself in a smaller intensity). You learn that he’s more fond of the quiet than the rowdy crowds he’s grown accustomed to.

Finnick learns that you also like the water, but you enjoy sitting under the surface and feeling like the world is just as silent as you in a way that isn’t so interesting to the rest of the world. He learns that you don’t have a favorite color but you always say green, that you’re not a people person but everyone thinks you’re a person who loves people, and that you like to watch Hecton play the guitar while he lets you set your hand on the body of it to feel what he plays.

You don’t know when you fall asleep on the couch, laying against the back of it with your head turned toward the large, cushy pillow that supports your head. You’re curled up against it, and Finnick thinks you look precious. He’s not long after you as he dozes off on the couch. Neither of you touch at all, hands to yourself as you let the night ease on around you. But the presence is comfortable enough, you’re happy for it.

But sometime in the night, you don’t know when, how long the passage of time had gotten to be, the calm that had set over you slowly began to fade and slip into something a little more unnerving. Uneasiness sets in your bones, makes you queasy as your fingers twitch. You hum, a groan that slips from between your lips and rouses Finnick as he opens his eyes and glances your way, eyes still heavy with sleep.

He starts to sit up as he sees you shift, your breath quickened and your muscles twitching. He calls your name gently, a first instinct he immediately realizes isn’t going to work. He hears you hum again and begins to reach a hand out. His fingers hardly brush the skin of your arm when your eyes suddenly open. You’re muttering something intelligible to yourself as you glance around frantically, eyes glazed over and movements full of adrenaline.

“Woah, you’re good,” he tries as you grip the cushions on the couch. It’s too warm and it’s cushy and you don’t want to be up there anymore. He’s still trying to ease you, hands out like you’re a frightened animal ready to attack him. You slide off the couch and onto the floor, where the cold hardwood greets your skin as you catch your breath, your face tucked between your arms as your whole body heaves for air.

He lets you stay there, concern written all over his face as he tries to figure out what the issue is. He guesses they’re just nightmares, bad, ugly nightmares that he, himself, has faced over and over and over again. He waits and waits and waits for your body to steady and for your breath to calm, keeping his hands out but away as he waits for you to recover.

When you’ve calmed down again, you lift your head and sit back against the floor, turning toward him with lethargic muscles, your adrenaline already waning as the exhaustion from before trumps everything else. You catch the movement of Finnick’s lips from out of the corner of your eye and turn to see him speak. “What’s wrong?”

You breathe in slowly, filling your whole chest as you gather yourself enough to answer. You stroke a circle over your chest with your fist, a movement he remembers seeing you do earlier when you were apologizing to him. He shakes his head gently, slowly shifting off of the couch to join you on the floor, giving you space as he props his elbow on the cushion.

“S’okay,” he says, his lips moving gently around the word. “What happened?”

You breathe out slowly, still centering yourself. You lean toward the table, sliding the notepad over with lazy movements. You contemplate before writing. /Vibrations./ You show it to him and he tilts his head. /I sleep with my hand on the floor. It lets me know if someone is coming, I can feel the footsteps in the ground. It wakes me up and keeps me out of trouble./

The way you write is different now, filling the missing blanks of words you’d usually leave out because they were unnecessary. Like you’re too tired to summarize, letting the words do their job as you slump against the table like you haven’t slept in ages and are simply going through the motions.

He moves slowly, letting you see what’s happening before it happens as he sets his hand atop your own on the table. You don’t move, glancing at his hand and letting it happen as his skin brushes yours. He feels honored.

“Well,” he says, “you’re safe here.” With me.

You manage to pull the corners of your lips up into a small smile, turning your hand so his rests in your palm. You raise your free hand to your chin. /Thank you./ You take a moment to sit there, looking at each other and enjoying the feelings of your hand in the other’s. Then you pull your hand away regretfully and pick up your pen.

/I should get back to my floor before my people worry./

He reads it off and nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he sighs, already moving to stand to his feet as he holds his hand out to help you, hoping you would accept. When you do, he smiles. You lift yourself to your feet and give him another of your best in this condition.

You pick up the notepad one more time. /Thank you for the sweets. And for the company. I liked talking with you./

He puts a hand to his heart, too heartfelt to be teasing as he dips his head slightly. “My pleasure.”

Finnick walks with you to the elevator, standing by you in silence after the button is pressed as you both wait for the doors to slide open. When they do, you step in and offer yet another warm smile as you sigh and wave, mouthing the word “bye” as you depart from him, sad to go. He mouths the word back to you, though you’re not positive he spoke them as he offers a small wave of his own.

The doors shut and Finnick misses you already.

~

The blaring lights, (otherwise) deafening crowds, and extravagant costumes are something you get used to and never get used to all at once. All the attention is on you, and it's your job to make sure they are entertained as you make your way onto the stage with Hecton's at your side.

Lucky is standing, that unnervingly large grin tearing his face in two as he watches you excitedly. His hand is extended toward you, both to show you off and welcome you in.

"Hello, my dear!" he exclaims theatrically as he takes your hand. He places a kiss to your knuckles and then shakes Hecton's hand as well. You all take your seats, your smile the picture of thrilled.

"It's been a while since we have last spoken, hasn't it?" He stops dramatically and then says, "Well, a while since I spoke to you, at least." The air is on the fritz with cheers and laughter and more clapping as you look around at everyone. Lucky's laughter is just as wide. "How have you been, Y/N?"

You look at Hecton, your smile and his set in perfection. He speaks as you sign, beginning his role as your ultimate translator. "I've been great, Lucky. I've missed you!"

His big brows furrow as he slaps a hand over his heart. He turns to the adoring fans. "Oh, isn't that sweet?" He laughs again and looks back at you, his expression calmer but no less dramatic. "I have also missed you, my dear. Now, tell me, this is a tour for some of our previous victors, have you met any of them yet?" He leans in like you're sharing a secret.

"I'm glad you asked, I have. It's been great getting to be reacquainted with old friends and making new ones."

"Ooo," he says, looking around and encouraging the crowd to join in. "New ones like who?" He sits up straight and brings a finger to his lips, glancing away and smiling slyly. "I know I have it from a reliable source that you were mingling with District 4 Champion, Finnick Odair." He leans forward with narrowed eyes. "Do I sense something blossoming?"

He and the crowd tease you, making lovey dovey noises that you don't hear but definitely feel as you glance at Hecton and he raises his thick brows in amusement.

"Oh, Lucky," you smile like you'll laugh as Hecton continues to read your hands. "I wish I could agree, but who am I to say?" You shrug it off with a sigh.

"Oh, really?" he jabs. "Because when I brought it up with Finnick, I believe he described you as 'a special kind of beauty'." This riles the crowd up even more, they cheer louder and the air feels suffocating. You smile through it.

"Did he now?"

"He did."

Lucky laughs dramatically, Hecton laughs less dramatically, and the crowd eats right out of the palm of your hands.

"Well," Hecton says as you catch the attention again, "you know I'm not one to gossip."

"Ohh, not just this once?" He says it like he'll cry.

"I wish I could."

He sighs heavily. "Oh, well." The crowds 'aww's and you give an apologetic smile to them all. Lucky leans over and takes your hand in his, which you then cover with your own. "It has been lovely catching up with you, my dear. And you, too, Hecton, my friend." Hecton nods. "I hope to see you again soon, both of you—I do so love our talks!"

"As do I, Lucky. As do I."

He puts both hands over his chest this time, smiling with sadness to see you go. "Would you give us a kiss before you go?"

You stand to face the crowd and kiss your hand, blowing it out to them as they scream and shout for you. You beam and look at them all, waving happily.

"Oh, fantastic!" Lucky exclaims as he stands to join your side, Hecton at the other. He takes one of your hands again. "It is always a pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine."

He turns to the adoring audience. "Our Silent Spectacle, everybody!"

They scream and shout and you press your cheeks to Lucky's before you and Hecton leave the stage. Even after you're past the curtain where they can no longer see you, you keep the smile as wide as you can until it trembles out of place.

/Very well done, Y/N,/ Hecton congratulates.

You huff out a tiring breath, massaging your cheeks before regaining your posture and masking your frown with a much softer smile as you respond. /It's exhausting./

He offers a sympathetic look. /Maybe so, but they love it./ He glances at you again, noticing the fatigue in your eyes and your twitching lips, the nerves kicking from overuse. He sighs, taking your hand and turning you to him.

/You've got to keep them happy./

You look at him, how his words reflected a deeper worry, a double meaning that surpasses the gratification of your adoring crowds. Your eyes glue to his own, solemn, sober—a fair contrast from the faces surrounding you, drunk on the sap of their own self-importance.

/I know,/ you nod.

The tense moment is interrupted as a new player enters the arena. Hecton is the one to turn first, redirecting your attention toward the person approaching you. You immediately smile, an instinct by this point as you turn your gaze on your next audience. It only takes a moment for you to recognize the person, and your smile comes a little easier.

Seeing the situation before he approaches, Finnick wonders whether or not it would be appropriate to interrupt. But when your mentor turns and you turn with him, and you smile a more genuine smile upon seeing him, he finds that he doesn't really care if it's appropriate right now.

"You're quite the personality," he says as he steps up, smiling himself as he tilts his head.

"They love quiet, happy girls," Hecton translates as you sign. Finnick really doesn't think his voice suits you, coarse and thick with an accent hard to find.

"That, they do," he nods. He licks his bottom lip, "So you'll be headed back off today?"

You turn toward Hecton, your jaw clenching briefly before you turn back. "Soon. I've got some business tonight and then we'll be off tomorrow."

"Business?" he raises a curious brow, taking a small step forward as his lips quirked. "What kind of business?"

You tilt your chin, a nervous kind of smile on your lips as you move a hooked finger from your nose to your cupped hand. "Nosey," you tease, though Hecton speaks it flatly.

"Oh, it's a secret?" he wonders, even more curious now. He doesn't speak like a creep as he continues, holding that same teasing feeling while also offering his genuine curiosity. "I have a thing for secrets, y'know. I can keep it safe for you…"

You do it again, with a little more delight this time. Again, Hecton's translation holds no ounce of the delight you give off as you talk to Finnick. "Nosey," he repeats, this time with a little more sternness to get him to stop asking. You give him a side glance, but he isn't affected.

Before you can communicate anything else, Hecton's sets his hand on your lower back. It isn't patronizing, he's just used to guiding you, your protector.

"Come now, Y/N," he says. "It's time we were off."

You sigh gently but nod, still smiling as you glanced up at him. You begin to wave to Finnick, but he speaks as you're waving your hand.

"Am I free to visit down in District 10?" he asks, his tone light and playful to avoid sounding as hopeful as he feels. He's just met you, and he wants to know you.

You nod quickly, too eager. You move two fingers over your fist, missing the way Hecton doesn't translate. But Finnick can figure that one out himself.

His chest floods with relief. "I'll keep it in mind."

You wave. /Goodbye, Finnick./ The way you sign his name is different. Where he is expecting to see the familiar letters you showed him last night, he finds a wave of your hands and a fond smile.

He winks at you. "Goodbye, sweetcheeks."

You scrunch your nose, circling your hand over your belly. /Gross./

Hecton is already walking you away as Finnick blows you a cheesy kiss, mirroring the one you'd done for the audience earlier. You wave him off, smiling and shaking your head as you go.

When you're far enough from him, walking away from backstage to wherever you were headed now, Hecton's intense brows are furrowed in what you can only assume is annoyance at his distrust in Finnick.

/You seemed familiar./

/Stop./

Music to My Eyes taglist: ... This is a temporary taglist for those who want to be tagged in the sequel to Music to My Eyes, Finnick Odair x Reader. Please keep in mind that once the second part is posted, the tag will disappear. Feel free to DM, comment, or send me an ask to be added, if you would like. Or simply add yourself here...

[arcadia345]

The Natal Astrology chart of Jeon-Jungkook

‼️🔞🔞🔞 not a real astrologer just my observations :) paid readings

Born in Busan, South Korea on Monday Sept. 1st 1997 at 3:23pm

ASC: Capricorn 6°

the first thing to stand out on him appearance wise would be his hands and arms, shoulders, teeth, hair, legs and thighs, but especially his torso! With his dreamlike and eccentric presence they didn’t take him seriously Saturn influence but as time passed and he worked on his crafts and himself everyone seen him as the star he is. Capricorns are known for having to mature quicker than others because of responsibilities. As a cap rising with Uranus and Neptune in the first just like him I KNEW he was a Capricorn bc of how his nose has always been prominent throughout his life but now he’s grown up/ into his features 🥹 and also how everyone always projecting (Neptune)onto him like???? Like when did he tell you this?? Definitely the dissociation king 👑. Very easy to dream about him I feel😭 he brings out our subconscious desires. His rebellious Uranus side popped out when he came out with his piercings and tats you could tell he was tired of being projected onto but also iconic because he’s kinda like the first A-list K-pop idol (bts in general tho)to go out of social norms appearance wise. In a way they kinda broke a generational curse 🥹 I remembered how he said he got the scar on his cheek because he was fighting with his brother which correlates to his Aries Saturn (his chart ruler) in the 3rd(siblings). Style wise he gets bored quickly so he’d like to switch up his appearance often. Most of the time he’d go for comfortable but still fashionable clothing, like you may see him in a chill outfit but it’ll cost more than ur rent💀. He could like to switch it up with odd/bold/flirty colors & fits but mostly he loves his darker colors like grey and black.

2nd house: Aquarius 14°

Lemme tell y’all right now…. This man is WIERD at heart🤣🤣 like he’s genuinely quirky lol it’s not a front like fr he’s so down to earth it’s crazy🥹 also his whole chart points to being very spiritual? esp with that 8th house stellium like he’s very into expanding his mind in any way possible so his could be heavily gifted and in pretty sure he knows this by now. He definitely ask himself “why me?”all the time like what did he do to end up so blessed/different?. He definitely would’ve had money regardless of fame as long as he stays true to himself and learns to give enough without being taken advantage of. He loves watching television/listening to music to pass the time. (Any other Neptune in 1st feel like they were raised by television??) Jupiter is all about indulging so in the 2nd house he loves all the simple pleasures, he LOVES FOOD like omg & nice clothes and smells everything that makes you feel good, he likes to collect things that’ll make you go????🤨�� also he’s DEFINITELY CHRONICALLY ONLINE AND STALKING US BUT HE CANT HELP IT he’s just really nosey lmao😂. He’s the type of celeb to be like “I’m bored, what are my fans doing?” Like omg pookie you genuinely curious what I’m up to??? I feel so special😭 he feels his real persona can come out online better than irl? I think it’s a shyness thing.

ꪔ̤̥ Now since he grew up in the spotlight please take into consideration since bts is his 2nd family a lot of the things I discuss would include them especially 3rd and 4th house but I’ll just call them family also

3rd house: Pisces 23°

First off we already know how dreamy and passionate he is when it comes to his communication skills, in school years he could’ve been the kid nobody noticed in class, also bullying could’ve been a issue, the type to sleep through class, also his siblings could be talented as well, he/they could have many secrets they share between each other. I’m getting that it could be hard for him to remember his upcomings sometimes because like it genuinely flew over his head💀 like yes he was there but he wasn’t there mentally sometimes lol same. Saturn in this house his siblings/ family were strict on him he could be shy when it comes to expressing his emotions like it’s hard to just pinpoint one emotion when you feel everything all at once so that could discourage him from expressing himself. Also he could’ve been lied to /left out often and didn’t even know it omg😭 now don’t get me wrong even tho a lot of things fly past his head he’s VERY MUCH self aware he just doesn’t care fr💀 also since his 3rd house ruler is in the 1st the scenario that comes to mind is like someone seeing your sibling out and public and the first thing they ask is “where’s your brother(Jk)?” Saturn can represent the father and discipline🥺 trying not to cry while type this) him and his siblings went through a lot of difficult times together but also they taught him so much he has sooo much respect for them he knows he wouldn’t be the same person today without them omg like they really raised him🥺🥺😭

4th house: Aries 26°

Now he could’ve had an erratic home life he could’ve moved around a lot & moved far away at a young age since Venus is in the 9th. There is a lot of mars masculine energy here so he likes chaos/excitement in his home also lots of sporty/action stuff around the house I feel like when he first met bts it was like his first taste of freedom in a way. I tell ya rn there was never a dull moment where he lived lol. Him and his family were always in competition with someone they had to fight for their place. Struggle wise at times he could’ve been FIGHTING for his life lots of arguments and aggression (which makes sense since they said they didn’t really get along at first)but with the Taurus degree there was definitely struggles with money and food / stability and personal possessions which drove him to work even harder. His 4th house ruler being in the 10th is giving I grew up at work😟😔

5th house: Taurus 22°

Firstly he’d be such a great dad 🥺 a really funny one too 😂 . His flirting style is not flirting at all😎 well kinda he’s more of gift giving person. His love language is genuinely opening up to you because he barely gets to do that fr, for Capricorns that’s a big thing. Things like showing you the most simple smallest things that means sm to him🥹🥹 to things he created. also food is big to him like the key to his heart actually, that man loves his food! be ready to be wined and dined and spoileddd. He loves traveling, dancing, music, philosophies & beautiful things so he’ll want to get your input on almost everything he wants to pick your brain lol. Also he’s really clingy that’s important to him physical touch but he really doesn’t open up much because he knows he has a lot to lose so he definitely isn’t a fling type of guy he likes to build a foundation with someone unless it’s like a one time thing out of the country where he knows he’ll probably never see you again so might as well act on his instincts. He could be into choking/restrictions, taboos, spontaneity, feet??? One of his erotic zones is his neck. Also his siblings influence his creativity heavily because he knows they know what’s best for him. What he considers as fun is eating😭😭👀 playing some games, cooking, listening to his fav music, drinking, cleaning doing laundry like he’s such a simple man that a good day for him would be staying home all day 😂

6th house: Gemini 14°

He’s very versatile he likes learning he hungers for knowledge. He keeps a strict routine but still likes to switch it up cause he gets bored easily. He was very young when he started working and also he was one of the youngest of his peers so Gemini here makes sense also as he is naturally curious he likes working with his peers/ siblings and unique personalities. He likes traveling also and trying the different types of food they have and shopping there also he obviously spoils his pets feeds them the best food keeps them well groomed, it’s in a mutable sign so I wouldn’t be surprised if he had many types of animals but he’ll want to cuddle a lot with them so idk if he’ll be keen to reptilians with such a busy career atm. He’ll also be very vocal with them they could know a lot of tricks that he taught them. He’d like to travel with them also if he has the chance to, Taurus in his 5th he loves to dress them up and pamper them, wouldn’t be surprised if he was having danceoffs against them lmao 😂

7th house: Cancer 6°

Let me tell you something…. This is HUSBAND MATERIAL RIGHT HERE. The type to be like “I can fix them.” Cause he loves a challenge but he’d actually be able to fix them ngl😭. But first let’s get into how other people perceive him on a 1-1 basis. Now with both these planets being in the 8th it’s very evident that they’d want to jump his bones/ spiral into obsession/ an awakening after meeting him. People naturally spill their hearts out to him, definitely a trauma dumping placement. Ofc people are gonna baby him it’s like he brings out people’s maternal instincts they just wanna keep him safe🥹 but this is also how he treats everyone, with genuine love and respect❤️ also he could get shy easily like the bunny Thumper from Bambi 🥹

8th house: Leo 14°

Okay now bare with me on this one because it’s hard to really understand stelliums if you don’t have one in ur chart, but what I’ve noticed is no matter what they seem to get put in situations that correlate with the house the stellium is in, which causes them to focus on the opposite house to balance the energy’s out. Now first off this man has some HEAVY good karma from the past life he honestly deserves every abundant thing that comes to him x2. As you know he is very keen on perfectionism and order, I refuse to believe he wasn’t some cult leader /powerful witch or something in the past life. Especially a VIRGO stellium in the 8??!!? He was/is a natural born healer 🥹🥹 no doubts about it especially with his moon at a 0° so the moon is in its pure element no matter the sign he’s here to experience those raw emotions. I’ve never met someone with their moon degree at 0 cause its hard to find but i had a manager that had a cancer Venus 0° and when I tell you she made me feel soo special 🥹🥹 like you can feel how genuine she is she loved giving gifts and making sure everyone was okay like the energy was so PURE and innocent in a way it reminds me of jungkook and his acts of service . Also which is why I get why everyone thought he was a Leo moon cause he is in sidereal Astro but I don’t get that egoistic attitude from him if anything it’s the opposite. I don’t want this section to be too long so I’ll move on to his pleasures😈 he’s into praising, teasing, creampies, being rough, nipple play, playful banter, degrading, car s*x, breast/chest, backshots, anal, heavvvy on oral and hand play the type to tie you up 😳 he could possibly be LGBTQ+ friendly if ykwim since he has prominent Aquarius and Virgo is a mutable sign known for their curiosity and versatility, and yk Virgos are obsessed with perfection and cleanness so I’m assuming he likes to get extra messy and wet during the act and he’s not finished with you till you BOTH climax he refuses to be known for bad s*x😤 he likes to make a scene/put on a show. But like I said earlier with his moon and mercury conjunct he needs a strong emotional and mental connection with you before he does anything. His 8th house is so interesting I could go on and on but no😏

9th house: Virgo 23°

Jungkook is very sharp when it comes to the 9th and 8th house since they’re very important in fulfilling his life purpose. In later years school people could’ve seen him as perfect in a way very organized and on point probably a teachers pet or honestly it could’ve been the other way around 😹 ofc half the class had some type of crush on him or was just naturally curious about him but still with that Pisces degree he lowkey didn’t care to be there in a way he probably was absent often but the teachers didn’t care cuz hello??? It’s jk.🥴 Let’s not forget his Libra Venus is in this house as well so he’s natural charming without trying esp to foreigners (9th). He has a strong connection to his past life so I’m thinking he’s like a green witch in a way? Like healing/manifesting when cooking or in nature around plants and animals, singing or just by listening to someone who needs to vent or vise versa. When he travels he needs EVERYTHING to be clean and in place to make sure him and his people are safe bc if not he’ll spiral also he could get jet lagged easily but by now he probably has a routine that helps with that. Also I wouldn’t be surprised if he got married to a foreigner, someone in his circle that he’s known for a long time. Ngl I have Libra 19° in 9th and I tend to get reallly curious when I travel ifykwim 🥴🫣 I really like to experience the people aswell as the location that I’m in to get the full experience. Also with the Pisces degree he’s more likely to do substances like 🚬 and drinking when he’s with his siblings/cousins/ traveling

Mc : Libra 26°

His mother has a heavy Venus influence on him, I’m getting his family altogether was close-knit growing up. He’s known for his worldwide aesthetics, and basically being perfect boyfriend/husband material. Hes known to be easily loved by many, but he’ll mostly be know for the pain he’s experienced, his healing abilities, and his versatility in skills. His Chiron is in this house so most of his pain comes from the industry he’s in, authority, and his public image, with it being at a 29° his ego can hurt him the most😳 which is why I don’t understand why people would get that cocky vibe from him other than his mars. With a Scorpio mars here he’ll also be known as a big sex symbol/someone who brings strong reactions out of people. Since it’s also the ruler of his 11th house so he’ll be known for his viscous and obsessive fans especially online. He’s prone to getting many stalkers/sesangs with how heavy his 10th and 11th house is with Scorpio energy and peers see him as competition even though they see he’s not a malicious person. On the positive side tho he’ll have the ability to feel & see what goes unseen, people’s hidden motives and desires, and so will his fans!! Iykyk👀 Also mars represents passions and pleasure so he could have a thing for love at the workplace, maybe into older/mature people or power play. He could have a porn addiction, definitely into some kinky 💩 with that Aquarius degree. yall plz don’t cancel me I’m just reading his chart. 😭

11th house: Scorpio 22°

His internet presence with have good longevity, this house has to do with our wishes, I’ve been saying I really feel like he did something in the past life to “seal the deal” fame wise because that’s what his chart is giving doesn’t necessarily mean he did something bad but there was definitely intentional manifestation there. Esp with the kill or be killed degree here you don’t have room for mistakes. Yall this man is a stalker big timmme like he stalks us reallll bad but also so does his fans 😹😹 it’s definitely a 2-way street I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a spam twitter account to watch us start army wars💀. If you have Pluto in 11th you know how hard it is NOT to stalk people online😩??? I don’t even care about the people I stalk I’m just nosey asf lmao. His Pluto is at 2° so he could get a lot of gifts from seasangs esp food and material things I’ve heard him speak on these topics also. They’ll try to expose him for having fun since Taurus is in his 5th house,ie while out at restaurants, shopping, his creative endeavors, his love life, or just when he’s at his most comfortable, and children.(Omg? The way that sesang incident with Enwoo just happened right after I typed this wth😳)He understands how crucial his privacy is for his protection so he’ll choose not to post as much. He’s the friend in the group with the silent power/ magneticistm, he prefers to befriend people who understands his deep emotions, friends that have also went through traumatic experiences, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was apart of a online community secretly so he can feel normal for once. Also he’s known as the sexy emo friend lmao with the cool tats and piercings that smokes cigarettes to look cool 😎 he also prefers to befriend people who look like this also

12th house: Sagittarius 14°

Sag in your chart is where your blessings are & what you’re optimistic about. Also where you tend to be a little pessimistic. Sagittarius reminds me of the feeling a sugar rush/liqour gives you, while Capricorn reminds me of the come down afterwards regretting all the decisions you made and how you’ll never do it again. Like I’ve said this whole time he is spiritually gifted and he has strong connection to his past life. He has a lot of Deja vu moments, the things/hobbies he loved then he loves in this life also it brings him a lot of fulfillment. He’d prefer to be in solitude than to be around people but his Jupiter is in Aquarius so this part is a bit odd… he’s comfortable having cameras around when he’s secluded esp with friends but in public??? He hates it especially when he’s not with anyone he knows I think he has social anxiety 🥺 could’ve been overweight in the past life that’s probably where his love for food comes from, he’ll be blessed with assets abroad from his homeland. He could look really similar to what he did in the past life I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a bunny or something.

ꪔ̤̥ That’s it for now till next time❤️ check back for updates

[alwritey-aphrodite]

scout!!! i would die for carving pumpkins with carmy <33

2024 Fall Blurbs

There’s just something about fall and winter that makes nostalgia tear you apart. Everywhere you turn, there’s something that reminds you of childhood, reminds you that you’ll never live in those moments ever again. And really, you’re more than happy with the life you have now, but you can’t help but feel like there’s always a piece of you missing.

“The stinging hands was the best part!” You tell Carmy, who’s laughing so much he has to set down the knife he was about to use.

“You sound ridiculous,” he responds, stopping what he’s doing altogether to turn and face you where you lean across the kitchen counter, eyes alight with excitement.

“It was! It's freezing cold and pumpkin guts are everywhere and then your nails turn orange and everything smells like pumpkin guts for days.”

“Pumpkin guts?”

“Yeah, the guts specifically,” you double down, practically smelling your childhood as you try and explain it to Carmy.

You'd been talking about pumpkin carving, and you’d told Carmy all about the way you did it every year while you were growing up, freezing cold and huddled on the cement floor of your garage, hands going numb as you tried to use the flimsy orange plastic tools from the supermarket to cut through the thick pumpkin. It sounds miserable, and you’re sure you were at the time, but through the rose colored tint of your memory, you’d never been happier.

“It was great,” you try to be firm, but Carmy’s trying so hard not to laugh it’s impossible for you not to smile.

“It sounds great,” he concedes, turning away from you and back to the dinner he’d been trying to make when you started this conversation.

“You know, we could always find some pumpkins, carve them on that slab of concrete out back,” Carmy throws out a few moments later, and you know he’s trying to sound casual and nonchalant but you also know he’s been turning that offer over and over in his head ever since he turned back to the cutting board.

“Yeah? And get the tiny plastic orange knives?” You needle him, teasing and overwhelmed with affection for him.

“And get the tiny plastic orange knives,” he agrees, sparing you a glance and seeing your grin, turning back to his work to hide the smile growing on his own face.

“You’re great, you know that?” You make your way around the countertop to press a kiss to Carmy’s shoulder, careful not to jostle him while he cooks, far more worried about him cutting or burning himself than he ever is. “Thanks for listening to my nonsense.”

“Nothing you say is nonsense,” he responds, ignoring your first statement in classic Carmy fashion, feeling exposed at the mere thought of acknowledging his own kindness.

“I thought we could watch a movie later, I stopped and got those giant ridiculous variety bags of candy,” you say, not mentioning how you searched through the whole store to find the specific bag of candy with all variety Carmy had mentioned liking as a child, willing to play it off as mere chance the way he does every time he goes out of his way for you, just to avoid that raw feeling he hates. If he can be ridiculously sweet to you and pretend like it’s nothing, you’ll do the same for him, just to see him smile.

[medra-gonbites]

Baldur's Gate 3 Companion Head Canon Filmmaker Edition

Depending on your crew, filmset can be the best time or the worst time of your life!  While kicking back and playing Baldur’s Gate I started to wonder what kind of positions would the gang assume on a filmset.

Here is my personal HeadCanon for the tadfools (+ Jaheira, Halsin, the Dead Three and Withers) if they were to be on a film set.

Astarion | Costume 

Of course Astarion would be in charge of the costume department! Not only because he can sew and design the best costumes with utmost skill, if you provide him with nothing but rags, but also because he would make sure the actors are always decent and taken care of. End of a risqué scene? Boom, he is already there with a robe, some blankets and a water bottle. “Let’s take you back to the changing room darling!"

Besides he is very fast and stealthy which would be a perfect time saver for in between takes: last minute check and tweak before we start rolling? Watch him dash to unwrinkle fabrics or refasten pins: 0 second lost.

Shadowheart | Production Design

Shadowheart would love to be in charge of the decor. Already in pre-production she would have a blast skimming flea markets and brocantes to find props and elements to create the perfect set, although she would probably be able to craft it from scratch if needed be, and could create an atmosphere with nothing but cardboard if she had to. She would keep track of all the props and organize them in a neat fashion. She would be so focused there is no chance you would end up with a continuity error (not in her department anyways!).

Karlach | Light Technician

Karlach has a light crew vibe to herself. She would run around rolling and unrolling cables, carrying and setting up C stands, activating generators, going as far as powering them herself if she has to. Watch her set up the lights and filters like it's nobody’s business. Sandbags? No worries she can carry 20 at a time. She can hold a reflective panel above her head for hours without breaking a sweat. Friendly and motivated, she is a wonder to work with and the camera crew has no issues communicating and coordinating with her. Tell her what needs to be lit and she will make sure it is. Let there be light!

Wyll | Acting

The charisma, these dance skills, the whole blade of frontier performance that radiates main character energy? You cannot convince me Wyll is not born to stand under the spotlight or in front of the cameras. At the beginning of his carrier had a preference for theater but he prefers cinema because it gives him the opportunity to do several takes and indulge his perfectionist side. He would be on set early to rehearse and he would be an absolute treasure to the rest of the crew. Very talented and humble, the best actor to work with!

Gale | Director of Photography

I will not budge: Gale would be in charge of the imagery. What angle, what move, what ratio, what color? He'd know what’s best to tell the story and his composition would always be on point. He’s got 10 different lenses, he made the shotlist six months before the shoot and he went on all the location scouting rekkie, even the ones he did not have to attend. He also checked the location at different hours to have a look at the natural light change through the day. He is very patient with his assistants and with the lighting crew which he would always give a hand to set up the lamps (literally thanks to the old mage hand). Don’t touch his camera though, he will fight you.

Lae’zel | First Assistant Director

“Ok, we have a schedule and we have to make sure we respect it. How much time do you need to build this scene? 10 minutes? Do it in 5!”. Lae’zel would be such an efficient first AD but she also would become the scapegoat of the set because of how demanding and blunt she would be. She doesn't mind and she knows its a status that often comes with the job. At the end of the day, everyone would get to leave on time though (or barely a few hours of overtime) and everyone would be grateful for it. You can and you will have a drink with her afterwards and all will be forgiven.

Halsin | Safety Coordinator

Obviously, Halsin would be in charge of safety; because film is fun and should remain fun, no matter how serious it is for some: nobody is getting hurt on his watch! 

Intense traumatic scene with an actor? He will be a perfect intimacy coordinator: he knows how to handle personal space and aftercare. Tricky stunt? He’s got a first-aid kit ready (not that you will need it as he made sure all equipment necessary for the stunt are secure). Animal Handling? Yes, he got that covered too, the creatures will be treated as royalty and he can even shape shift to keep them company. Child actor on set? Did he mention he can take care of that too? Beyond all this he will make sure everyone in general is keeping healthy, calling for breaks, making sure everyone has enough to drink and/or eat which he will remind the whole crew to do because they tend to forget.

Minthara | Production Manager

Yes, Minthara has arranged the location, the catering, the shooting authorization and pretty much all the rentals that you need for the day. You better be on time on her set: the call sheet is precise and so should you. She will make sure everything that has been arranged will proceed as expected but should the unexpected occur last minute? Well that’s not a problem because she is cool as ice and can perform under pressure like none. There, she fixed it, and with an hour to spare. After the production, she will chase you and spam 3 reminders a day for you to send your invoice and receipts (she gotta book everything for the accountant!).

Jaheira | Location Manager

Jaheira is the first and the last on set. She gets the keys to places, she relays the instructions on where to find what, what is off limits and what can or cannot be used.  She will make sure everyone parks at the right spots, that people that are outside of sets are not hindered by your crew, and that the place is given back clean (or cleaner even). She is always very sweet to the person in contact, be it the owner of the location you're shooting at, the caterer or curious bystanders who come to investigate. She also keeps an eye on the carpooling schedule. Nobody will be forgotten on her watch.

Minsc | Boom Operator

Minsc is in charge of taking sound. He listens carefully to every take to make sure there are no parasites or interference; if he doubts he will ask Boo to double check for him. He will mic up the actor very gently, giving them funny lines to say to test the mic. He finds it hilarious to call out farts when he hears them in his headphones; he will then ask loudly who it was. Often it is himself.

Tav | Writer/Director

It is their story and you better believe they will see it through. They wrote the damn thing, they gathered the right crew and they will direct it all. They call the shots and make the decisions. At the end of the day they call action and cut. Whether it is a happy or bad ending, the story will have 3 to 5 acts and it will be sent out to all the A list festivals of Toril.

Durge | Director/Producer

It is their story too but they did not write it, however they did make sure it was possible to make it by any means necessary! They are in charge and they even have a cap and a chair to prove it. They had a megaphone too at some point but it was misplaced (stolen by Astarion who got fed up with all the yelling).

The Dead Three | Executive producer

These three are power hungry, ruthless and bloodthirsty, of course they are producers! They know where the money is, they know how to get it, they know who to play and sweet talk to get it. Orin tends to be more artistically involved in the project but Gortash has the people’s touch and will be in charge of handling communication and distribution. Ketheric will make sure the money gets where it needs to go and will be in contact with the subsidies and fundings to provide reports and deliverables.

Withers | Storyboard

It is Tav and Durge’s story but Withers illustrated it. Visualization goes a long way for the whole crew and it is nice to have something to fall back on when the chaos of the shot list overwhelms you. Thanks Boneman!

Do you agree with this? Do you have other characters in mind that could be useful on set?

Did this spark an AU fanfic idea within me? Maybe...

[sadboi-writer]

Dear Jack (Series)

Chapter Six: Road to Wasabi

Summary: Jack doesn't have a present for Rudy's birthday, so he lies and says Bobby Wasabi is coming to visit. Rudy insults Bobby, which gets him fired. Now the kids have to break and enter to get Rudy's job back. Throw in some ninjas and good-old fashion movie plot.

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, cursing

Masterlist ~ Chapter Five ~ Chapter Seven

Y/N felt like pulling out their hair. Everything had to be perfect, they had spent months planning this for Rudy. From decorations and food, to the guest list. This surprise party had to be perfect.

It already wasn't going well. The balloons were the wrong color, Jerry had picked up the wrong chips, and Jack was nowhere to be found.

Kim insisted Y/N go into the locker room to cool down. Because they were just running themself up the wall worrying like they were. After about ten minutes Kim sent Jerry to keep Y/N company since he was getting on her nerves.

Nearly an hour and half after he was supposed to be there, Jack finally strolled in.

"You're late," Kim grumbled

Jack quirked a brow, "For what?"

"Rudy's surprise birthday party, remember?" Eddie asked, "Y/N's been planning it forever. They've been freaking out since we got here."

"I thought Rudy knew about it?" Jack asked

"He does," Eddie confirmed, "He went over the details with Y/N two weeks ago when he found out."

"Shh, he's coming!" Rudy's own voice rang out

Rudy reached in and flicked out the lights. Before strolling and turning them on, as if he hadn't just turned them off.

"Surprise." The group said with no enthusiasm

Rudy placed a hand on his chest dramatically, "How did you know it was my birthday? Are you guys trying to kill me?"

He put on a cake hat.

"You better not have brought gifts!" He said, obviously expecting gifts, "But, if you did, now would be the time to load me up!"

Jack frantically chased after Milton, "Hey man, I don't have anything, can I get in on your gift?"

Milton shook his head, "Absolutely not! I put a lot of time, effort, and money into this thing!"

Milton handed the neatly wrapped gift to Rudy.

"This is from Jerry, Eddie, and Me." Milton told him

Rudy ripped it open, " Oh! Joke-a-day toilet paper! Get out! My cousin had this at his house. I literally laughed myself off the bowl! Thanks you guys!... Now, I don't want to turn this whole gift thing into a competition, but Kim, it's time to Top That Gift!"

Jack ran after her, "Kim, do you think I could get in on your--"

"Forget it, Jack," Kim cut him off, "I've got a winner right here. Just go ask your girlfriend."

Jack stood dumbfounded, fully realizing Y/N wasn't there for the first time.

"Unlike some people, I actually put a lot of thought into my gift. I hope you like it, Rudy." Kim said

Rudy ripped open the wrapping paper and gasped, "A signed picture of Bobby Wasabi? My hero, my idol, the man I patterned my life after? 'To whom it my concern, Bobby Wasabi'. That's me, I'm whom. I'm concerned! All right, Jack. Rock. My. World."

The group joined Rudy in crowding around Jack. Kim had a smug smirk on her face.

"Yeah, Jack,"Kim teased, "I'm sure Rudy saved the best for last."

Jack inhaled, trying to think quickly, "Well, you know, I was thinking... you know, everyone knows how much you love Bobby Wasabi. And I asked myself what could be better than a picture, right?"

"Only the man himself!" Rudy chimed, "Wait, wait, wait a minute. Are you saying what I think you're saying? You found a way to get Bobby Wasabi to come down here so I could meet him?"

"Yeah," Jack nodded hesitantly

Rudy bounced on his feet in excitement, "Wait, the founder of this dojo, an international movie star, someone who hasn't been seen in public in 20 years is coming to see me? I can't believe it!"

"None of us can believe it, Jack," Kim challenged

Milton spun around blindfolded with the piñata stick.

"Let's get this party started!" Milton cheered

His swings got out of control and he started moving sporadically around the dojo. Just as Y/N exited the locker room, now much calmer, and carrying a wrapped gift. Milton hit them with the stick and promptly tripped over them.

Once everyone had gotten Milton off of Y/N they each took their leave. Y/N was left alone with just Jack and Rudy. Y/N sat next to Rudy on the bench, handing him the wrapped box.

"What's this?" Rudy asked, genuinely surprised

"Your present,"Y/N explained," It's from Jack and I."

Jack's eyebrows shot up as Rudy looked between the two.

"Jack got me two gifts? That's so nice of him," Rudy said as he started to tear into the wrapping paper, "Seven tickets to the Light it Up Cinema?"

Y/N shrugged, "We rented out a theater for all day Saturday, we're having a Bobby Wasabi movie party!"

Rudy gave Y/N a quick hug before going and giving Jack one too.

"Best birthday, ever!" Rudy cheered as he went to his office

Jack looked at Y/N, "I didn't know you included me in your gift."

"Yeah, Kim said you'd forget so I just put your name on the card," They joked, "I didn't know you got him your own, I didn't mean to step on your toes there."

Jack shook his head, " I didn't. I panicked and told him Bobby Wasabi was coming to meet him."

"Jack, you didn't!" Y/N insisted

"I did!" He lamented

"Bobby Wasabi hasn't been seen in years, he'll never agree to come meet Rudy!"

Jack sighed, "I know!"

Y/N stood, "Let me brainstorm, we'll figure something out."

Y/N grabbed his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before leaving the dojo.

The next day at school Kim was still making fun of Jack for his lie.

"I cannot believe you told Rudy that Bobby Wasabi was coming." She teased

"I couldn't believe it either! Words just kept exploding out of me!" He replied, "It's like I had a case of liarrhea!"

"He's never gonna show, Jack." Kim continued, "And Rudy's gonna be crushed!"

"Bobby could show! I mean, my grandfather was his sensei! I found his number and left him a message. It was Y/N 's idea."

Kim frowned, "This could be bad. Remember how disappointed Rudy was when he lost the Name-the-Baby-Panda contest at the zoo?"

Jack shook his head at the memory, "Oh, I know. He put on his crying boots. I know what I said was wrong. But, I mean, who's crazy enough to believe that Bobby Wasabi is actually coming to our dojo?"

Of course, as he said it Jerry, Milton, and Eddie came running down the stairs.

"I can't believe Bobby Wasabi is actually coming to our dojo!" Jerry hollered

Y/N trailed down behind them, an amused smirk on their face.

Jerry hopped down the last couple steps, "Look, Jack! Bro, since Bobby's coming for Rudy's birthday, we've decided to take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"

"We spent the whole night in Jerry's garage writing his comeback movie!" Eddie proudly showed off the script they had written

Jack glanced at Y/N, seeing the dark circle beneath their eyes. Of course Jerry had talked Y/N into helping them. Y/N gave Jack a tired smile and a small wave.

Kim took Jack by the shoulder and walked him a few paces away from the group.

"Wow, you hear all that, Jack?" She asked, "Our friends spent all night in a garage writing a comeback movie for Bobby Wasabi."

"What's bad about that?" Jack replied, "What if they wrote a really great movie?"

Milton chuckled, "Oh, It's better than great! It's epic! Bobby Wasabi is the biggest martial arts action star in history."

"An absolute hero!" Y/N chimed in

"But now he'll battle with the most diabolical force he's ever faced!" Eddie continued

"It's half piranha, half octopus!" Milton built up

"It's PIRANHAPUS!" The boys cheered together

"Eight arms!" Jerry demonstrated

"Nine mouths!" He continued

The four gnawed at the air.

"And one bad attitude!"

Jerry, Eddie, Milton, and Y/N lined up in a clearly rehearsed version of their ideal of Piranhapus. Flailing their arms and gnashing their teeth. All while Kim and Jack stared on.

After school, Eddie, Milton, Jerry, and Y/N sat together staring at the waste of money before them.

"We paid your cousin 50 bucks to make a model of Piranhapus,"Eddie grumbled, "And this is what we get?"

The model was a basketball with hose arms. It looked like shit to be completely frank. Y/N put their head in their hands, a headache forming over the boys bickering.

"You should be happy he gave us a deal." Jerry insisted, "I mean he took our vision and brought it to life!"

Y/N shook their head, "My little brother could have made this, Jerry!"

"Isn't he 4?"

"Exactly!" They snapped back

Eddie placed a hand on Y/N's shoulder, "Dude, we can't show this thing to Bobby Wasabi. It's a joke!"

"No, you know what's a joke?" Jerry snapped,"That tacky ending you wrote. Bro, you ruined our movie!"

"My ending is perfect!" Eddie defended, "No one could even see it coming!"

"Of course they can't see it coming!" Milton finally spoke, "How does a walrus operate a hang glider?"

"Guys, come on-" Y/N tried to intervene

"You know what? Well, here's what we think of your ending!" Jerry interrupted

He ripped out the last page of the script and ripped it into tiny pieces, throwing it across the table. It landed on Y/N's lap and a little bit in their hair. But, Y/N was more focused on the boys fighting in front of them.

Eddie stood, "That's it!"

Eddie lunged at Jerry and started smacking him. Milton jumped on Eddie's back and the three continued to fight as Y/N tried to pull them off of each other.

"Guys, stop it!" Y/N shouted, "Come on! This was supposed to be fun!"

Jack and Kim entered the food court and saw their friends fighting. Jack ran to them.

"Hey, guys, what are you doing?" He shouted, "Stop! Get away! Come on!"

He gently pulled Y/N back before roughly grabbing one of Eddie's shoulders as Kim grabbed the other. Once they were separated, Kim went to check on Y/N.

"What is going on?" Jack asked

"This Bobby Wasabi movie is tearing us apart!" Milton answered

Milton plopped down in a chair next to Y/N, allowing them to lay their head on his shoulder. Kim pushed Jack to the side.

"Jack this is crazy!" Kim whispered harshly, "Just tell them the truth.'

Jack sighed, "You're right."

He slowly approached his friends.

"Guys, you remember how I said that Bobby Wasabi was coming to our dojo?" Jack began

"Yeah," They answered in unison

"Well," Jack continued, "The truth is...-"

Before Jack could finish a man walked by and took one of Jerry;s falafels. Jerry stood angrily, pointing his fork.

"Hey, beef meats!" Jerry called, " Who do you think you are?"

The man turned around, flicking his hair out of his face. Y/N was on their feet in a second.

"Holy mackerel," Y/N whispered, "That's-"

"I am," The man said, throwing the falafel onto Jerry's fork," Bobby Wasabi."

Bobby turned and entered the dojo.

"Woah," The all awed

Y/N was quick to run inside after him. Y/N watched as Rudy left his office. Rudy looked in confusion at Bobby staring at their trophies.

"Uh, sorry ma'am, we're closed." Rudy said politely beginning to approach, "If you're looking for the Large and Loving It Dress shop, it's on the other side of the mall!"

Bobby turned to Rudy, "What was that?"

Finally, Jack and the rest of them sprinted inside.

"Rudy! Rudy!" Jack shouted, "Your birthday presents' here!"

Jack pointed at Bobby.

"It's Bobby Wasabi!"

"Yeah!" Jerry corroborated

"You wanna know why he's here?" Jack gloated, " Because when I say I can deliver, what happens? Oh, that's right, I deliver!"

Y/N chuckled anxiously at Jack's display.

Rudy laughed, "That's a great joke! You hire some big betty to squeeze into a dress and then wobble in here saying he's Bobby Wasabi! It's hilarious!"

Y/N sucked in a gasp, "No, Rudy, really-"

Bobby cut them off, "You don't think that I am Bobby Wasabi?"

He stood beside a cardboard cutout of himself. In all fairness to Rudy he did look quite different. Rudy gave him an unimpressed look.

"No ma'am or sir, I do not." Rudy agreed

Y/N barked out a chuckle. Bobby Wasabi and Jack shot them a look.

Bobby approached Rudy, "That is it!"

He began screeching and attacked Rudy. Rudy easily beat him, flipping him like it was nothing onto the mat.

The whole group was cringing. Y/N warily approached Bobby, offering him a hand up as Kim and Milton ran to do the same. Jack ran to Rudy.

"Rudy, this is no joke!" He insisted, "That really is Bobby Wasabi!"

Rudy finally seemed to believe Jack.

"Oh," He exhaled, stood next to Bobby, "Oh. OH!"

"Oh, Bobby, I'm sorry Mr.Wasabi!" Jack said as the group moved to help Y/N, Kim, and Milton in their effort to get him up

"Mr.Wasabi, I'm so sorry fro the misunderstanding." Rudy apologized, "Um, welcome to my dojo!"

Y/N could practically see the steam coming out of Bobby's ears with how angry he was.

"This is not your dojo," Bobby huffed, "This is my dojo, and you are fired!"

Bobby flipped his hair as he left the dojo. No one knew what to say, so they also left.

Y/N stayed back with Rudy, who was absolutely distraught.

"Everything will be okay, Rudy!" Y/N insisted, "I'm going to figure out how to let you keep your job

Rudy shook his head, "Go home, Y/N."

Y/N pulled him into a hug.

"I'm not giving up on you, Rudy," They told him, "Please don't give up on me."

Rudy gave a weak nod, and Y/N left him to his business.

The next day at school, Kim was still going after Jack for everything. They were all walking together, save for Y/N.

"Nice birthday present, Jack!" Kim exclaimed, "You got Rudy fired. Maybe next year you can give him a balloon and push him down the stairs!"

The five sat down near Jerry's locker, at the foot of the stairs.

"The worst part is, the Bobby Wasabi comeback movie is dead!" Milton complained, "Say goodbye to my Hollywood dream."

Y/N came down the stairs.

"What's Rudy gonna do without a job?" Kim asked

"He'll be fine! Guys like Rudy land on their feet!" Jack replied, " I wouldn't be surprised if he's already found a better job!"

"Not exactly better," Y/N cut in, "But, it's a job."

Jack quirked an eyebrow at them, "What do you mean?"

"Let me just show you guys."Y/N said as the final bell of the day rang

Y/N took the group to the mall, and into Reptile World of all places. As they walked in, Lonnie ran by wailing about a toothbrush. Y/N nodded toward Rudy in his new uniform.

"Hey guys!" Rudy greeted, "What are you guys doing here?"

Rudy's smile didn't quite meet his eyes.

"You know, we just came by to see how you're doing," Jack answered

Rudy waved him off, "Yeah, don't worry about me! I'm doing swell--swell, I tell you."

Rudy began to tear up, and Y/N stepped forward to gently pat his back. Then.Rudy ran off into the back room crying.Y/N watched a wave of guilt fall over Jack.

"Guys this is my fault." Jack admitted, "Rudy's a third degree black belt, and now he's scrubbing turtle butt!"

Jack paused to think. Y/N looked him in the eye, a glint of mischief in them.

"Bobby Wasabi took away his job, and Bobby Wasabi is gonna give it back." Y/N plotted

Jack gave them a high five.

That night they found Bobby Wasabi's mansion. They stood outside the gate as Eddie repeatedly pressed the buzzer.

"He's not answering!" Eddie complained, "How do we know he's even in there?"

Kim rolled her eyes. "Well, someone just ordered a truckload of pastrami!"

They all backed away from the gate. Jack sighed.

"Guys, it took three busses to get here!" Jack said, "So we're just gonna have to break in!"

Y/N turned and saw Milton slip through the bars of the gate. He gestured for them to follow, they did with a bit more effort than he needed. but Y/N also got through.

"Not happening, man," Jerry said, as Y/N squeezed through, " Guys like Wasabi have million dollar security systems." Y/N pointed at a big red button for Milton to go press. When he did, the gate opened. The group entered while Jerry still meandered on about different security measures Wasabi would have.

Y/N grabbed Jerry by the collar and shoved him toward the front door with the others.

Once they got inside, the group stayed as quiet as they could. Peering around corners and trying to stay together. They came to a new hallway.

"Oh no," Kim warned, "That's not good."

She pointed to a "Ninja Xing" sign on the wall. Jerry scoffed.

"Oh come on, it's just one of those gag signs you buy at the car wash!" He insisted

As he finished his sentence four ninja's landed on the ground in front of the group.

"Oh, really, Jerry?" Y/N teased

"Jerry, I don't think it's a gag,"Milton whimpered, "NINJAS!"

The group all ran screaming, splitting up. Jack and Kim ran in one direction, Eddie and Milton in another, and Y/N and Jerry in the third.

Jerry and Y/N got to a dead end and started trying door handles. As they did one of the ninjas came up on them. Jerry paused as Y/N took a swing at the ninja.

"So, what's going on with you and Jack?" Jerry asked as he landed a kick

Y/N whipped their head to him, "What are you talking about?"

Y/N slung the Ninja over their shoulder and to the floor.

"You two are being weird around each other since Truman messed with us." Jerry replied

"We got into a fight," Y/N huffed, standing off of the unconscious ninja, " And I yelled at him that I have a crush on him. But, we're good now, we're ignoring it."

Jerry laughed, "No you're not."

"He is."

Before Jerry could reply, the ninja stood and struck Y/N on the back of the neck. Knocking them out. Jerry held his hands up in surrender.

The ninja picked up Y/N and carried them over his shoulder as they guided Jerry by the back of his neck. They were brought straight to Bobby Wasabi. Y/N was dumped unceremoniously on the ground in front of Milton and Eddy who had evidently also been caught.

"Show some respect!" Milton complained as Y/N hit the floor

"What did he do to them!" Eddie yelled

Bobby waved his hand to silence them, "You lot are in so much trouble. You broke into my house, which means when I call the police you are going to jail. Including Sleeping Beauty there."

They stood dumbfounded.

"Sausage me!" Bobby ordered

One of his ninjas threw two hot dogs into buns another ninja was holding, which were then handed to Bobby Wasabi.

"That's the most incredible thing I've ever seen!" Eddie said in awe, "Sausage me!"

The ninja moved to throw sausages to Eddie.

"Don't you dare sausage him, Evan!" Bobby interrupted, "Take them away! Leave the unconscious one."

Milton yelled, "Fine! Take us away! But when we leave, your big comeback movie leaves with us!"

"How's that now? What?" Bobby stood, "What?"

The ninjas let go. Jerry hautily approached.

"It just so happens we wrote the greatest movie of your career,"Jerry boasted

"A little something called Bobby Wasabi vs. Piranhapus!" Eddie continued

Milton got next to Bobby, "It's half piranha, half octopus!"

"So it's a little piranha with eight tentacles?" Bobby asked

Jerry jumped up on Bobby's other side, "Try a giant octopus with vicious piranha teeth at the end of each tentacle!"

Bobby chuckled, "Ohhhh! I want to fight that thing so bad! I can almost taste it!"

Bobby paused.

"No, that's a little sausage juice left in my mustache."

The boys proceeded to explain the plot to Bobby Wasabi, who listened adamantly. Milton and Eddie sat next to Bobby on the right, while Jerry sat on his left with the still unconscious Y/N in his lap.

"The End." Milton finished

Bobby broke into tears, " That's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard!"

The alarm started blaring and Bobby was immediately on his feet. Jerry scooted away, holding Y/N closer.

"Either security's been breached or my pot pie's ready!" Bobby announced

The doors burst open, revealing Jack and Kim still being pursued by three ninjas. Jack faltered seeing Y/N unconscious.

"Hey, Bobby, I've been looking for you!" Jack announced

"Get them!" Bobby ordered

The rest of his ninjas went after Jack and Kim. Milton and Eddie helped Jerry move Y/N off to the side, out of danger. Y/N gently stirred to life just in time to see Jack tap Kim's hip for her to jump on him and kick three ninjas away.

Jerry pushed some hair out of Y/N's face.

"You're okay," He whispered

Y/N nodded and fell back asleep.

Kim and Jack made quick work of the ninjas. Leaving Bobby positively impressed.

The ninjas got up and moved to restrain Jack and Kim. Bobby stood.

"Hang on a second!"Bobby shouted, "That was the perfect Flying Dragon kick."

Jack stood proudly, "My grandfather taught it to me."

"Well, I can't think that your grandfather would approve of you breaking into my house." Bobby said

"No," Jack agreed, "But, he would approve of me standing up for my sensei."

"Your sensei called me a man lady." Bobby pointed out

"It was an honest mistake!" Jack countered, " You've got a ponytail and that thing you're wearing kind of looks like a dress."

"It's a kaftan! It's breathable, wrinkled-free, and great for those on-the-go days!"

"Mr.Wasabi," Jack replied," what was the one thing that all of your movies had?"

"Hot chicks, explosions, and a sassy orangutan sidekick." He answered with no hesitation

"Everyone loved Dr.Bananas!" Jack agreed

Everyone in the room agreed.

"But your movies also had you!" Jack continued, " A man that lived by the Wasabi code. That's the code Sensei Rudy still lives by."

Jack looked to his friends who joined him in the Wasabi code.

"We swear by the light of the dragon's eye," They all said

Bobby looked at them and finished the saying, "To be loyal, honest, and never say die."

"Wasabi." They all finished

"Bobby look, Rudy's far from perfect. But he's more than just a great sensei. He's our friend." Jack insisted, " Do the right thing. Give him his job back."

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, and Jerry gently helped them to their feet. As Bobby contemplated his options, disco music filled the air and a random man came in dancing dressed from the 70's. He grabbed a plunger and danced his way out.

"I hit my head harder than I thought," Y/N said

"Okay, who was that guy?" Kim asked

Bobby shrugged, " I have no idea. I'm just glad that you could see him too."

The group left, Bobby promised to meet them at the mall the next day to give Rudy his job back. Jerry kept his arm around Y/N to keep them steady.

At the mall they waited for their parents to pick them up. Jack checked over Y/N as soon as he could.

"Are you okay?" He asked

Y/N nodded, "Just a headache now."

"I was really worried about you."

"I'm okay, I promise."

Their voices weren't above a whisper. They looked into each others eyes. Jack started to lean in when a car horn honked. It was his mom. He turned around quickly.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He promised

Y/N nodded and left on their walk back home.

The next day Y/N pointed Bobby toward Reptile World. The group stayed outside waiting anxiously to see Rudy. After a few minutes, Bobby came out carrying Rudy like a bride. Eddie stood and started clapping prompting the rest of the food court to join in. Y/N went to the doors of the dojo and held it open for Rudy. As he entered the dojo Rudy pulled them into a bone-crushing hug.

"Thanks for everything," Rudy gratified

Friday after school they started filming Bobby Wasabi vs. Piranhapus.

"Bobby Wasabi vs. Piranhapus take one!" Jack announced clapping the slate'

Lonnie ran out of his shop yelling, "Help me! It's horrible!" A giant tentacle came out of the shop door ad wrapped around him, pulling him inside.

Bobby turned to the camera and recited his line,

"CUT!" Milton shouted

Milton approached Bobby.

"Bobby, baby, bubby!" Milton coaxed, " You're killing me! Where's the energy?"

Bobby nodded, "You're right, I phoned that one in!" Milton turned to Eddie on boom.

"Eddie, go in there and tell Jerry and Y/N to take it easy with that giant tentacle, they're going way too big!" Eddie nodded.

Jerry and Y/N jogged up bickering.

"It's totally your fault!" Y/N blamed

"Hush!" Jerry demanded, "Hey, guys, sorry we're late! They wouldn't let us on the bus with this thing!"

"They let us on the bus, but kicked us off when he smacked the driver with it!" Y/N clarified

"Wait a minute," Eddie said, " If you're here with this, then what was--"

As they looked at Reptile World, Lonnie slammed against the window covered in goop. They all quickly packed their things and ran.

Y/N ran into the dojo with Jack close behind. They looked at each other and burst into a fit of giggles.

[familyagrestefanblog]

Hot take: Toxinelle's design for the most part isnt as great as everyone makes it out to be, much less it being groundbreaking or the best emo design, since it's barely anything new at all:

it's just her head that's amazingly designed and the fact that Ladybug's regular suit honestly couldn't set the bar any lower.

Griffe Noire on the other hand is actually punk through and through. Not giving a single shit what you think of his look and being the punkest bitch by even going with a feminine-coded name in the french original bc he doesn't care about your single-minded bs when you for some reason automatically think he MUST be female just because he has two "e"s in his name:

One of these two got one hell of a save design where barely a single risk was taken so she remains universally pretty for every viewer

And the other one actually was allowed to embody a whole new fashion style and life style, that fits perfectly as an extension of his OG character, merely things went south.

In my opinion there is no competition who got the better character design.

It's the one that actually does something for the character besides looking pretty, cool and being inoffensively save.

I'll give you a hint: it ain't Toxinelle.

edit:

Just to clarify this, I'm not saying I fell out of love for Toxinelle's design to be a b*tch. I'm saying it from the stands of me wanting the show to put the same amount on effort into Marinette's designs as Adrien's.

Griffe Noire is allowed to be straight up punk and yet the most I can give Toxinelle is that her design is Gothic-INSPIRED:

Again, her head is the most well designed part and especially the mask going underneath her chin, the amazing hair style and the conveniently fitting red-black color scheme works perfectly for Gothic.

As are her already incorporated gloves, the fact that she's wearing a mask in the first place and her dark makeup. Especially her vampire red eyes (like Monarque Bug, I love that detail) and I'll also give credit to how the upper red part of her body suit looks like a sleeveless dress and the little Ladybug symbol looking like a necklace.

All that combiened with her overall Gothic-elegance shows how AMAZING Toxinelle could have looked if they had for once taken an actual risk with her and prioritized what the fashion style is actually supposed to be over her looking universally pretty for every viewer.

I'm being nitpicky here because of how frustrating I find it that Griffe Noire has such a phenomenal character design, straight up one of the best in the show, and yet Marinette is still stuck with the same one-layer body suits a la "just this time the stripes go to the left"

Character design is not decided by if EVERYONE thinks they look great. The priority is what the character design does for the character. It's visual story telling.

I personally dress much more like Juleka or Emo Marinette in real life and yet in my opinion it's still crystal clear that Rose as Pigella has one of the best hero character designs because of how unapologetically ROSE it is:

I personally don't have to want to wear it or even like it at all to think it's one of the best ones because of the simple fact that this design embodies Rose's PERSONALITY (as does her whole transformation) and tells me more about her.

Especially in direct comparison with Griffe Noire, or even civilian emo Adrien probably wearing his dead mother's jacket while Adrien HAS TO keep dressing more low-key, Toxinelle barely tells me a thing about this Marinette's personality besides "slay Queen"

Because there IS no personality. The most you can get out of this is her being even more uptight and closed off because of how her collar directly blends into her mask, keeping her in a visual choke hold.

But that's mostly it. For Griffe Noire they explicitly went with punk fashion, meaning everything punk stands for can now be put into new context with Adrien.

But Toxinelle barely embodies a fashion style, she's just Gothic-INSPIRED (at most). And that's such a shame because Gothic, especially if you wanna use it in a darker way, was a PERFECT fashion style to utilize here.

The most common Gothic styles are inspired by Victorian funeral wear and give off an aura of authority, seriousness and melancholic detachment, being kept in the past (this is in no way meant as generalization, fashion is complex)

In what reality COULDN'T we have gone with that for Toxinelle? She would have been the perfect complimentary style for Griffe Noire by her side.

And we don't even need to go with a dress. Gothic women wear pants too:

Can you imagine how amazing she could have looked as an actual goth? How much visual story telling through FASHION they could have put into her design when the evil Ladybug is a vampire goth whose fashion is inspired by funeral wear??

Yes, I AM pissed.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Teen Audiences Words: 4.8K~ Summary: A young human-Gem hybrid- a soul yet unknown to the rest of the Crystal Gems- takes their first brave steps towards greeting their heritage firsthand.

Chapter 3 of 4! This time, my OC goes on a tour of Little Homeschool with Bismuth, and gleans a far clearer picture of the most pertinent events of recent Gem history.

Enjoy! <3

__

Same as the car ride into town, the warp stream sees fit to aggravate their motion sickness.

Jean doubles over with hands on wobbly, wobbly knees when they finally reach their destination, relishing in the familiar comfort of feet planted upon solid ground once more. (Because good grief, they were whirling about like a damn tumbleweed in there. Balancing themself all perfectly poised and upright like the Gems felt near impossible.)

“Hey, you good?” the purple one— Amethyst, they remind themself— says, reaching a solitary hand out as if to catch them should they stumble.

“Y-yeah,” they stutter, still breathing heavy. “Yeah… sorry, it’s just— hoo boy, that was a lot.”

“Steven took a while to get used to the warp streams as well,” Garnet comments, issuing a formal, solitary nod. “It’s only expected that an organic being would struggle to acclimate to a zero-G environment like that. You’ll learn to manage it. In time.”

Jean swallows hard, willing that awful nausea at the base of their esophagus to recede. With any luck she’s right. It’d be such an embarrassing shame if they couldn’t physically handle such a basic form of Gem transportation. They always knew the theory for how the warp pads worked— the inter-linked system of crystalline terminals providing near-instantaneous travel between distant locations— but it’s another thing entirely to actually experience it. The whole journey from the beach house to this other settlement took, what? Maybe five or so seconds? Goodness, such a swift means of transportation could entirely revolutionize life on Earth as humanity knows it. It really is too bad these warp pads only activate for Gems.

(And that… well… they disorient every last balance-keeping anatomical feature of the inner ear. They’re thankful for Garnet’s encouragement, they are— but as of this precise moment they can’t imagine how such a trip could get any better, motion sensitivity in mind.)

Then, fingertips tapping delicately against the crystal inlaid at their chest in pure subconscious habit as the post-warp jitters fade away, they cast their gaze upwards and out. Shift their posture upright once more. This place…

“I— I’m actually here,” they mutter to themself, drinking in the glorious sight of all the colorful architecture and the bounty of Gem students milling around the busy central square.

Little Homeworld, in the flesh.

They step off the warp pad and— eyes widened with childlike wonder— begin to map out the area in their head. Clustered beyond the gold-rimmed concrete platform wrapping around the warp are a number of small buildings, each one featuring a completely different architectural style. Some are cozy A-frames, some are suspended on stilts… some are fashioned from wood and stone, others from brick… there’s square windows, circular windows, half-moon windows, no windows—! One story, two story, many, many stories… name any exotic building feature, and this place probably has it represented somewhere. And it’s a very colorful town, too— Jean has never seen a neighborhood painted in such vivid, welcoming pastel shades.

They’re still drinking in the sheer exhilarating splendor of their new surroundings when a broad figure they don’t recognize rushes across the square towards their current group, the very image of a Gem on a mission.

She’s clad in overalls that look much like their own, sporting a friendly face and— most unusually, compared to the Gems they’ve seen so far— an inverted gemstone at her chest, one that spirals inwards towards her core instead of sticking out.

“Oh, thank goodness you lot are back!” she says, nudging one of her rainbow locs back behind her shoulder as she plants herself square in front of their three hosts. “I was beginning to wonder if I needed to start the seminar on your behalf.”

Pearl’s glance flits their way for the briefest of seconds, their fingertips threading together. “Apologies, we got a little caught up in… something important, shall we say.”

“Bismuth, this is Jean,” Garnet says, gesturing towards them. “They’re a prospective student and need a full tour of our campus and dormitory. Do you or Peridot have time to show them around?”

Her mouth screws up as she considers. “Well… pretty sure Peri’s busy with her horticulture class, so I guess I can do it. It sure beats all the busy work I had going on this morning. But wait, wait—” she interrupts her own train of thought then, her attention snapping right back to the other Gem— “hold up. You said prospective student? You mean this isn’t just a tour for the short-term exchange program?”

“Jean’s half-Gem,” Amethyst blurts out with clear excitement painting her tone. “Like Steven.”

Bismuth’s expression snaps from minor confusion to spellbound amazement almost faster than Jean is capable of processing. Her glance flits down, briefly hovering on the pale lavender-blue gemstone resting atop their sternum.

“Huh,” she muses out loud, balling her hand at her chin. “Well, I’ll be damned. Didn’t know that was possible.” Then, her focus pulling back up to meet their eyes: “But hey, we’ve plenty of time to talk shop about that later, right? It’s nice to meet you, Jean! We can begin that tour right now, if you’re ready. The rest of you guys, go on ahead. I’ll take it from here.”

“Sounds good,” they nod, tangling their own hands within the wide expanse of their pockets as they rock back and forth on their heels. “I, erm—” they wave an anticlimactic goodbye to the other Gems, who seem to be in a huge hurry to meet their previous engagement… golly, all of this is happening so fast— “can I just do one thing before we start, though?”

Bismuth hums an affirmative. “Whatever you need. We got all the time in the world.”

Inhaling deep through the slimmest slit of their lips, they pull their phone out of their pocket and sling a quick text to Dad, updating him on where they’re at. After all, warping straight to Little Homeworld itself was not in their plan for today… but oh, well. Life is full of surprises sometimes.

(A fact of existence that’s both a blessing and a curse.)

But with that little task out of the way, Jean follows their guide down the wide central path connecting to the main square, eagerly soaking up whatever knowledge she can spare. Bismuth, as it turns out, is the Gem who designed this whole campus. Thus for all the questions they might have, she’s got a pretty solid answer for most. Or so she claims.

From what they’ve seen of her so far, they’re apt to believe this, though.

“So… Little Homeworld,” they begin with a fair measure of timidity, skipping a little to catch up with this Gem’s large and energetic stride. “This place was only built in the last few years, yeah?”

She grins. “Yep! We broke ground in mid 2015, shortly after the start of Era 3.”

Their brow creases. “Era 3…?”

“Gem society’s current era,” she says in explanation, “which began when the Crystal Gems finally made peace with big Homeworld. You’ve… heard of Homeworld, right?”

“I mean… I always figured there was one, but that’s kinda it. I—” they trail off for a moment, their chest deflating under the humiliating weight of everything they’re unaware of. “To be completely honest, I’ve never even met any Gems until today. So there’s gonna be a lot I don’t know. Sorry…”

Bismuth merely waves their apology off. “Psssh, don’t worry about it. I can explain some of the basics to you after the tour. Plus, if you’re looking to enroll, you’ve plenty of time to learn all this stuff anyways. Now follow me, our first stop is just over here…”

The first stop she speaks of is the campus gymnasium. Jean’s interest is immediately piqued as they notice a few Gems sword fighting in one of the gym’s many courts. Bismuth— ever the keen eye— gives a fond laugh at their sharp swerve of interest, and dives straight into the meat of her tour spiel, beginning with…

Campus tour factoid number one: not only is this space utilized for structured classes (mostly swordplay and wrestling, which the quartzes are huge fans of), but students can even reserve courts for individual use. It’s not a super large gymnasium, but there’s plenty of space for sports outside, too. Apparently baseball (of all things) is a favorite pastime amongst Little Homeschool students.

Campus tour factoid number two: right next door to the gymnasium there’s a building with a bright, airy common area. Here, there’s tons of tables and chairs set up for students to play games and connect, a communal kitchen (mostly for the benefit of their human visitors, but also for Gems who wish to experiment with eating), and a mini library of human entertainment.

Campus tour factoid number three: when weather is permitting many instructors like hosting their classes outside, but they have plenty of physical classroom space too, over in the cluster of buildings nestled under the trees right across the main path. Some of the other amenities Little Homeschool boasts are a full art studio, an all-seasons greenhouse kitted out with the latest and greatest in hydroponics technology, and a records room with access ports to a whole wealth of Homeworld data banks for research and learning purposes.

The final stop on Bismuth’s tour is the dormitory, which is housed within the central tower.

“Now, many of the Gems who attend our school are at a delicate transitory stage in their lives,” she says, leading Jean through the front entrance of the dorm. “Plenty of them have never been apart from those of their own cut for more than a second, so the concept of ‘personal belongings’ and having a space that’s all their own is… well, for lack of a better term, alien.”

They nod as they follow Bismuth through the building’s lobby, each and every step bringing a new curiosity to gawk in awe at. Damn, this place is insane! The whole core of this tower is open space, with a set of transparent elevator-like pads stationed at the middle to ferry folks up and down from each level. There’s tons of greenery and light brightening up this expanse, and a number of railed walkways arcing across this central atrium from different angles every few floors. These walkways even have flowering vines hanging from the undersides, giving this building a strikingly organic vibe despite its concrete heavy architecture style. It all feels very… oh, what’s the style Dad always said he likes the aesthetic of, again—? Very, uh… very solar punk. Yes, that’s it. A sort of combination of solar punk and neo-futurism, what with all the bold angles and sweeping curves represented here.

A few Gems wave at Bismuth as the two of them pass by. She beckons them along towards the lift system.

“Thus, when building this school,” their tour guide continues, “we settled on dorm style accommodations, hoping that it could provide a nice balance between solo and community living for our students.”

“How many Gems are housed here, out of curiosity?” Jean asks, stepping up on the platform with her.

Bismuth taps her fingers against the diamond shaped screen inlaid in the half-wall that separates the lifts— probably imputing a floor— and the crystalline platform jolts to life. “Currently? About a hundred seventy or so,” she responds, turning back to face them. “And our roster rotates all the time. But the school itself serves plenty more— there’s a lot of Gems who warp in each day for their classes, and others who only choose to attend one or two sessions.”

They hum in acknowledgement, falling quiet to enjoy the smooth ride up to one of the upper levels.

The lift stops at floor seven, where their gracious host leads them towards what she describes as one of the few empty dorm rooms. (Or they think these are supposed to be the dorm rooms? These doorways don’t have any handles to speak of, which is a little confusing.) In any case, Jean’s brow arches in ample curiosity as they watch Bismuth press her palm flush against the adjacent panel much like one would use a hotel keycard. A dull chime rings out, and the entire surface of the door splits in two. They flinch a step backwards, wholly mystified. Wait, what?? But how did— there was no seam before, right? The doorway had no visible seam. They swear to the edge of the Earth it didn’t. So how could it just—?

Bismuth gives a fond chuckle, merely shuffling aside to invite them in to the room. “Trippy, right? This whole building’s a bit of an architectural labyrinth— held together with a whoooole lotta Gem tech, hah! So when you walk through that frame, you’re actually entering into something of a pocket dimension. It’s the only way we could scale up our operations while maintaining a slim footprint. The sunlight’s real, though,” she says, gesturing towards the wide window at the far end of the living unit.

Eager eyed, Jean takes a quick inventory of the space.

The room itself is fairly sparse, a blank canvas to be furnished and decorated however a Gem would prefer. But there’s some shelves built into the right hand wall at the far corner for storage of personal items, and a humble table and chair nestled by the window. Meanwhile, on the left side of the wall there’s a strange little person-sized inlet— a ‘cubby,’ of sorts— with another one of those touch screen panels next to it. They hum with intrigue, striding towards this mysterious furnishing feature.

“What’s this for?” they ask, the panel’s interface bursting to life under even the most feathery brush of their fingertips.

“Oh, that—?” she smiles. “It’s a newer contraption, actually… meant to mimic the unique conditions of any Gem’s exit hole.”

Jean purses their lips, absolutely nothing about the conclusion of that last sentence making sense.

Their what hole?? Oh gosh, it’s gonna take eons to figure out what even half of this stuff means, isn’t it?

Bismuth begins to speak further on the topic, delving into something more nuanced about these so-called ‘exit holes…’ something about rest, something about incubation, a kindergarten or whatever. Ugh. They don’t know. They don’t know. And even more frustratingly, for whatever goddamn reason it suddenly feels impossible to maintain focus on her words at all, their mind instead seeing fit to fixate on the daunting ravine that is their sheer lack of an even baseline understanding of Gem physiology, culture, and history. Here they are, trying to enroll in an all-Gem school, and they barely even comprehend the basic lingo. Oh god, she thinks they’re an idiot, doesn’t she?

They don’t even realize they’re clutching their arms around their midsection in the sheer strife of it all until the sound of their own name cuts through all the murk and mire that’s taken their body hostage.

“Jean… hey, Jean? You doin’ okay, there? D’ya want me to slow down?”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine, I just—”

Whatever lame, emotionally downplaying words they were about to utter die like snuffed cinders upon their tongue as they hazard a sheepish glance at the Gem and note the genuine concern weaving across her features. Jean sighs, dropping their arms.

“I think I need to go outside,” they admit, averting their gaze. “Everything’s just… a little overwhelming right now.”

“Hey, that’s all right,” she says, tone soft with understanding. “The rest of the tour can always wait. In fact… how ‘bout I take you back to my forge, and we can talk shop there, instead? It’s open air, and if you’re not up for talking, I can just show ya’ how I prepare billets for a while. At least until the others come back ‘round. That sound more your speed?”

“Yeah,” they nod, the barest hints of a smile returning to their lips. “Yeah, I think I can handle that.”

~

The walk back to Bismuth’s forge is pretty uneventful. There’s a few Gem students who wave a friendly hello to their guide as she leads them down the path, but beyond that their journey is cast in comfortable silence. And honestly, thank goodness for that. Jean is exceedingly glad to find another soul in this place who understands the importance of like… why a person might desire chatter-less companionship. Sometimes they just flat out don’t feel up to talking, y’hear?

Bismuth only breaks their quietude when the two of them step through the arched entry into her workshop.

“Here, you can sit, if you’d like,” she says, gesturing towards a squat wooden stool nestled at the corner of the space. There’s a table there as well, filled with a number of specialized metallic hand tools Jean can’t even begin to guess the names or uses of. Their Aunt Dee might, though. As a film costumer, metal work seems like something she would’ve at very least dabbled in before.

They nod in gratitude, eagerly situating themself on the offered seat and allowing their muscles to relax. Ahhh… it feels nice to rest after such a long walk.

Their gracious host rounds the room to grab a dense bar of metal from the healthy stash she’s got stacked on the shelves. As she crosses back around, her eyes lock on them immediately. Ever so subtle, her brows lift upon her broad forehead as she regards them once more, signaling her active sympathy.

“You ‘doin any better?”

They nod, small and meek. “Yeah, I think so. Sorry, about— well, sorry.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to be apologetic for, don’t you worry,” she says, laying the metal bar down on the working surface of her anvil. Then, with a faint laugh: “‘Sides, if you think you’re feelin’ out of your element, you should’ve seen my last tour group.”

“What would a Gem have to feel out of place about…?” Jean asks, more of an under-their-breath mutter than anything else.

Of course, Bismuth seems to glean the deeper meaning behind their hazy afterthought of a query anyways. “Oh, you’d be surprised. A lot of our students here have, well… a bit of a complicated past. A large number of them fought in the war for Earth, back when the Gem Homeworld was still trying to colonize it. And a good number of those spent a few thousand years trapped in a state of mental damage we Gems call ‘corruption.’”

Their features crinkle inwards as they ponder these facts. Hmm. ‘Corruption.’ Yet another term they’ve never seen show up in any of their research efforts. It seems the scant amount of information they’ve amassed about Gems up until now really was barely scraping the barrel. Was this their fault? Did they not dig deep enough? Are these pieces of their own history they could’ve learned years ago if only they applied themselves to their search harder? But in a true blessing of a breakthrough for an anxious wreck who’s starting to feel too ashamed to bother anyone with any more of their ignorant questions, their blank, deer-in-the-headlights gaze is obvious enough that their host clues in on the confusion swirling through their mind immediately.

“Ah, hmm. I guess you prolly don’t know what corruption is either, huh?” she muses, pressing a closed fist to the edge of her lips.

Jean flashes an apologetic smile. “‘Fraid not.”

She nods, and temporarily abandons her starting metal to the anvil so she can grab a second stool from the other side of the forge and sit herself down across from them.

“In that case,” she jabs a solitary finger in the air, “lemme just start from the beginning and give you the ol’ Earth rebellion primer…”

So, here’s what they glean from her narrative:

The Gem Homeworld was apparently once ruled by four Diamonds. The youngest of the quartet, Pink, had Earth given to her as her first colony. The colonization efforts went as planned for a good few hundred years… and then, a lone rose quartz and a pearl (the Pearl, the one they met just an hour or so ago, which makes a damn lot of sense from what little they’re aware of her), began seeding whispers of rebellion. It started small… isolated attacks on key settlements and construction sites, strategic disruptions of supply shipments and warp pad installations, that sort of thing. At first, the two of them only ever intended to scare the others off this planet— not wanting its ecosystem to be permanently destroyed via the lethal impacts of Gem production on the Earth’s soil chemistry. But over time, the rebellion blossomed to champion a cause far broader than what was originally intended:

Freedom for all Gems, no matter how disparate to Homeworld’s stringent ideals.

This was when Bismuth joined the fray, and where much of her recounting of this history is based on eye-witness experience.

Jean takes a moment to inquire a bit deeper about the destructive impact of Kindergarting before her story moves on.

“Essentially, Gemkind used to set up camp on a new planet, construct their colony, siphon every last scrap of life out of its crust until they’ve incubated all the Gems they possibly can, and then move right along to the next one,” Bismuth says, shaking her head with a tinge of shame coating her features. “An endless, soulless cycle, with countless dissatisfied Gems trapped at its center. That’s why the mere existence of Rose Quartz was such a shockwave at the time— ‘coz she was a Gem who outright defied her superiors’ demands at every opportunity. Rose, she—” her expression grows somewhat wistful with melancholy remembrance— “she taught me that my unique existence was precious, that I didn’t need to bend to Homeworld’s demands. That I could choose my own path in life. My own friends. My own loves… Stars, Rose Quartz was everything to me back then.”

Jean’s nose crinkles as they ask the obvious next question. “But…?”

Bismuth sighs as she slumps forward on her stool, age-old exhaustion evident within her tone. “But war is complicated. And so are Gems. I made a few choices I now regret, and got bubbled over it. Missed a few thousand years ‘coz of that. And by the time I was let out, the war was long over. The Crystal Gems won, but… only by a technicality.”

“Bubbled?” they inquire, tilting their head.

“Hah,” she laughs, low and half-hearted. “Means my form was dissipated in combat, and my gem was stashed in a bubble. It’s a long story. Don’t really wanna hash through the details of it now, if that’s okay.”

Jean nods, more than emphasizing with that sort of sentiment. There’s tons of awkward stuff in their past they’re not super interested in discussing with others, either. They gesture for her to continue.

Bismuth moves on to explain how— once she was freed from her stasis and allowed to reform— she discovered that all the Gems left behind on this planet were caught in a massive retaliatory attack by the Diamonds.

“They believed Rose Quartz shattered one of their own,” she shrugs. “Pink Diamond— the appointed leader of this colony— was lost during the war. So the three who remained traveled to Earth and tried to wipe every last Gem off its surface… their own soldiers included. They assumed they destroyed all of them.“

“But they were corrupted instead,” Jean completes, remembering that specific word Bismuth had used earlier. “Which means—?”

“—that their minds were thrown into a jumbled, primal state. Unable to retain a humanoid form, or even communicate in words. To use your human lingo, it’s as if the sheer brutality of the Diamonds’ damage reduced them into monsters.”

“Hmm. So how were they healed?”

“Ah, that was all Steven’s doing. I’m assuming you already know about Steven—?”

They nod. “I’ve seen his adverts,” they put it lightly.

That’s— of course— only the tip of the iceberg. They choose not to mention the ridiculous sum of time they’ve spent combing the internet for every last scrap of information they could feasibly grasp on Beach City, Steven, and the other Gems. It’s not clear yet what this particular Gem would think about such an obsessive level of study… whether she’d admire the initiative or resent them for sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong.

“Alright. Now, here’s where things get a bit topsy-turvy,” Bismuth says, a bit of a chuckle coloring her tone. “So, Steven’s the half-human son of Rose Quartz, right?”

Yep, that tracks. None of Jean’s sources ever stated this so bluntly, but it meshes with the vague timeline of events they’ve pieced together… what with Rose’s disappearance and Steven’s arrival on the scene years later.

“Well, back when he was a kid, this whole bombshell secret ‘bout his mother comes out. I wasn’t there for the reveal,” she shrugs, gesturing wide with her palms spread open, “and only learned about it secondhand, but— basically, all along, Pink Diamond and Rose Quartz were the same person.”

Their brows scrunch inwards. “Wait, what?”

“Wild, right?” she says with noted amusement. “All those years of chaos and turmoil… when the whole time, Rose was simply waging a false war against herself. I’m sure you’ll learn plenty more about this era of history in time, but the important part is that this makes Steven one of the Diamonds. Which gave him the unique authority to negotiate with them for not only the complete liberation of Earth, but also the healing of all the corrupted Gems. Such a cure took the powers of all four of them to achieve. So, hah—” Bismuth cracks a half-hearted, wistful smile— “as much as it really cut my facets down a size at the time… in the end… making peace with Homeworld was literally the only option.”

Jean continues to muse on the broader implications of all this newly learned history as the Gem moves on to describe how Little Homeworld came to be. (Which— they’re ashamed to admit— they’re only halfway paying attention to.) So, Steven’s like… what… royalty, then? Some sort of Gem prince? It certainly would explain the sheer level of political sway he had in setting up this school, and the almost reverent way people here have spoken of him so far. Still, it’s not what they expected. Online documentation on Gem matters is still very sparse, yes, but nothing they’ve read thus far even remotely mentioned the existence of ‘Diamonds,’ let alone Steven’s innate connection to them. They can’t help but wonder if there’s any specific reason why.

Their thoughts migrating to related horizons, they inquire more about the rest of the Diamonds… are they still in some form of power today, they ask?

Bismuth shakes her head no. “Not entirely. It’s, ah… it’s complicated. We’ve elected leaders to aid in governing each of Homeworld’s planets, but… it’d be foolish to claim that the Diamonds don’t still hold a certain sway over a vast percentage of Gemkind. Our society’s entering a vital transitional state right now, shall we say.”

“Makes sense,” Jean nods.

Especially with how long-lived Gems are, though they elect not to say as much out loud. They have no idea if the topic of age is as sensitive for Gems as it can oft be for humans.

“But despite any lingering influence they may hold, they’re not ‘in charge,’ so to speak,” she continues, throwing up air quotes as emphasis. “Not as they once were. Everything’s different now.” Bismuth shifts back upon her stool as she pauses in her lesson, allowing the rejuvenating relief of those three little words to sink in for the both of them. A serene, content smile rises upon her lips. “After a lifetime of struggle, Gems are finally free to be their own selves in this era. We can finally rest.”

Their host meditates within the cusp of this welcoming truth for a few moments, staring off towards the open air doorway at their right to watch a fair handful of residents pass between activities. She closes her eyes, her features aligning into an almost unparalleled show of utter tranquility. Then, bobbing her head a little as she wrestles through the last few items on her laundry list of mental troubles, she clasps her hands upon her knees and pushes herself wholly upright once more.

“Anyways, that’s probably enough history for today, yeah? Hah, wouldn’t want to spook ya’ away with all the heavy stuff before you’ve even enrolled.”

“No, please, don’t worry ‘bout it,” they say with a slight laugh, shaking their head. “I thought it was pretty interesting, really.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it!” she chimes, pacing back across the forge to her anvil. “We can talk shop in more detail when Pearl’s back, but— should you be interested in becoming a student long-term— my plan is to retrofit one of those dorm rooms you saw with a kitchenette and a bathroom, as well as shuffling around some of the furnishings to make space for a bed. Does that sound suitable for your needs?”

“More than suitable,” Jean chimes, folding their hands in their lap.

“Good, good…”

Bismuth shines her a bright, enthusiastic grin, and picks up that dense hunk of metal she fetched minutes earlier.

“So… with all that said and done—” in a flash of brilliant light, she morphs her hand into a broad mallet— “d’ya think you’re still up for a lil’ demonstration?”

[justthinkinboutbooks]

Elain in black theory

Back for a quick moment after I was inspired by an argument I saw in another acotar group literally as I was leaving it lol

People on the other side of the ship war just looooove to say that Elain not looking good in black is foreshadowing that she'll leave the NC.

(we on the Elriel side tend to diminish this moment as "Cassian's fashion opinion" but in all fairness, Nesta did also say in her POV that the black dress was ill-suited for Elain. Considering that opinion have from from 2 POVs, we should take it seriously)

I want to look as a particular part of Cassian's analysis of her dress:

"Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved, modest gown leeched the brightness from her face. It wore her, rather than the other way around. [...] He'd never once in the two years he'd known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court... It sucked the life from her."

First, this was the point, was it not? If there's one thing we know about Eris, it's that he likes to fuck with people. How much fun for him would it be to dance with his brother's mate? A person he himself called a beauty at one point. Keeping his eye on Nesta was imperative to the whole plan, so they had to downplay Elain's beauty.

But if we want to think about what this could hint at if its purpose was foreshadowing, then I have an alternative to the "Elain leaves the NC" theory:

I think Elain looking bad in black could be another hint at her becoming a spy.

What do spies want to avoid at all times?

Attention.

Elain, as a very beautiful woman, attracts attention. That would be her downfall as a spy. We know she's stealthy, an excellent secret-keeper, and a seer. Those are all great qualities for spying, but how useful are they really if she's devastatingly beautiful and turning heads wherever she goes?

But now we know that there is a way to diminish her presence. To make her plain. To make her fade into the background should the occasion call for it.

If Eris can ignore her in black, anyone can, no?

Anyway, crawling back into my cave to hibernate until an announcement.

[revasserium]

museums of memory

tsukishima kei; 2,098 words; fluff and the tiniest bit of nsfw

if he were to think of his body as a museum to his life, he thinks the first ever exhibit would be you.

“do you even remember the first time you played volleyball?”

tsukishima blinks as you lounge on the chair opposite his, in the empty desk where he assumes the newest member of the sendai museum faculty will sit one day, but for now, it’s been commandeered by you, grinning at him over the old fashioned lamp placed between his desk and the eventual newcomer’s.

“probably with my brother, why?”

your foxhole grin makes him pause.

“nope!” you hold your fingers crossed over each other as he sighs.

“fine. do you remember?”

you let out a long, overdramatic breath. tsukishima fights to keep his own face expressionless as he watches you, spinning in a chair that is not yours, and will never be yours — but you sit in it like you own the thing anyway.

“yep! it was with me!”

at this, he frowns, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow even as he scours the depths of his own fading memories for something that might confirm or deny your claim. he comes up empty.

“it… was?”

“yep!” and you’re smiling, a smile that he’s long since learned he has a startling lack of immunity against; it pierces his chest like the first ray of sunlight after a whole week’s worth of gray skies and rain — he waits.

“it was in your backyard! do you remember? the third time i came over to play cause my parents weren’t gonna be home till late —”

“ah… yeah — but i’d hardly call that volleyball.” tsukishima grins as the memory resurfaces, the images flashing behind his eyes, the feeling of grass beneath his fingers, the brightly colored, balloon-esque ball bopping between the two of you. he remembers the shape of your laughter, ringing through him like so many silver bells. he remembers laughing with you, watching you dive for a ball only to trip over your own feet.

“it was too volleyball!”

he shrugs, allowing you a haphazard grunt as he returns to his work, sifting through the museum’s backlog of donated pieces, parsing out which ones are actually worth keeping.

he wonders if someone were to sort through his own memories like this, which moments they might deem worthy of being kept, and which ones they might set to the side to toss away.

his first kiss is yours — given on an overcast sort of afternoon, with a sea of worksheets and unread manga scattered between you. your bed’s bigger than his, and the pillows are softer, anyway. he’d been thinking about it — then, and before then too — how it might feel, and he’d chalk it up to pure curiosity (of the scientific sort, you know) after, when you’d looked up at him and asked him what that was all about.

you’d been showing him something in a shoujou manga, squealing about some tall, dark, handsome, broody boy in the pages, about how he’d kissed the main character — just like that! bam!

he remembers the sound of your voice, the taste of your surprised hiccup on his tongue, the way your sigh had felt against his lips when you finally relaxed into him, your eyes fluttering shut, tickling his cheek like moth wings.

he’d pulled back, adjusted his glasses and gone back to his japanese literature notes, swiping a quick thumb across his lips. you’d stared at him for a solid ten seconds before burying your face in your pillow and then promptly whacking him across the head with it hard enough for him to wince.

“what was that for?” he asks, bewildered, his glasses askew.

“y-you can’t just kiss me — j-just like that and… and not expect me to do something about it!”

“well i wouldn’t’ve done it if i knew you were gonna hit me!”

“what’dyou think i was gonna do then?”

“i dunno, kiss me back or something!”

you’d deflated then, a helpless laugh spilling over your lips, making his skin tingle in ways that he’d never really been able to properly verbalize. he twists at his own fingers, feeling an unfamiliar heat creep up his neck and into his cheeks.

“if you wanted a kiss… you could’ve just asked.”

tsukishima crinkles his nose, scowling hard at the bunny-printed bedsheets between you.

“okay then,” he says, his words a bit too quiet, but no less certain, “kiss me again.”

you shift closer, reach over to crumple your fingers into his shirt collar to pull him to you. and it really was an overcast sort of afternoon, but… the memory of it shines brighter than the sum of all his sunlit days.

he imagines walking you through the museum of him, of all the things he’s considered sacred enough to keep, tucked away in the glass cases of his memory, polished, precise — perfect. he might show you his series of firsts, but then again, he thinks you might know them already. most of them include you anyway.

his first time is with you too — when you’re both still young enough to wonder, but old enough to do something about it — on a night when the moon is full and the air is too hot and sticky with possibilities.

he gasps as he pushes you back into the mattress of his bed, both your chests heaving, the world a rumbling ocean of cicada-song and half-drawn breaths.

“t-tell me you want this —” his voice is a shipwreck, and he knows he probably looks like one too, your fingers having made fine work of his hair, his glasses fogged over with the physical proof of his desires — of both your desires. you smile as you reach up to pull it from his face; he tastes the grin on your lips as you pull him down towards you.

“i — i want it — please —”

and it’s this plea more than anything else that pushes him over the edge of that precious, precarious precipice. he leans in, kisses you hard enough to bruise, and even though you’d spent the better part of the last year learning the curves and bends of each other’s mouths, the sweet and spice of each other’s tongues, somehow — this still feels clumsy. somehow, there is still too much teeth and not enough hesitation —

he can’t help the moan that tumbles from him when you arch your body up into his, when he finally, finally manages to pull away all the layers separating your body from his, when he finally sees you beneath him, splayed out like a promise, sweet and ever so willing as you reach for him —

he sinks into you like a daydream.

your nails trail fire and fortune down his back, his inhibitions left at the foot of the bed or perhaps shucked right outside his door because for once, no one else is home. and sure, you’d offered your place, which is empty more often than his place is but something inside him had wanted this — had wanted the first memory of you and him to be here. in his bed, on his sheets.

it’s a strange kind of possessiveness, the kind that he’s always felt roiling in the depths of his belly whenever he looked at you but right here, right now, he’s finally unafraid of letting it out.

he hisses when he feels you tightening around him, neither of you experienced enough in the language of pleasure, but he thinks that you don’t need to be. all you’ve never needed was him and you in the same space — and it has always been poetry.

“kei — kei —”

“c-come — come —”

there is a kind of breaking that can only be described as beautiful. and he has seen it over, and over, and over with you.

neither of you even remembers the shouting, how it all began — but both of you remember the shattered shards of cheap, store-bought glass, the silence that had folded in on itself, thick enough to suffocate. he’d never been good at stuff like this, and to be fair, neither were you.

“it’s not fair,” you’d said, and he’d laughed, a too-harsh, too-loud, too-much of a laugh that had echoed through your shared apartment like a car alarm, set off by the proximity of your bodies, by the resentment hidden beneath your tongues.

“what’s not fair? this? me?”

his voice is almost a sneer, but it isn’t. he can’t muster that strength. the losses his team had suffered still too fresh on his mind, and somehow, your empty words of it was a good match had set him off somehow. because he knows you’re lying — it wasn’t a good match, it was a shit match, and you knew it. so why — why —

“it was a good match —”

“no, it wasn’t — it was my first match — and we fucking ate shit —”

“it wasn’t your fault —”

“stop lying to me! you know i hate it when you lie to me!”

you bite your lips, you twist your fingers.

tsukishima lets out a breath that feels like admitting defeat. he feels his body soften — you never used to toy with your fingers like that. not when you were little, not till you met him.

“fine,” you’d said, looking anywhere but at him, “it was a shit match. but you did the best you could.”

“yeah, and clearly, it wasn’t good enough.”

you scoff, a sound that he’d never gotten used to hearing from you, but he should’ve expected it. you’d been with him for way too long not to pick it up.

“well, then do better next time.”

he finds himself smiling before he can stop himself.

“yeah… right… it’s just that easy, huh.”

you take three steps towards him and close the distance between you.

“isn’t it?”

because if his body were to be a museum to his life, he wonders how the exhibit might end, where he might draw that final line —

“i’ll see you after work for dinner then,” you say, popping up from the chair across from him, flashing him a quick grin.

tsukishima hums, his eyes still resting on the sheafs of paper in front of him — kamuiyaki ware plate set, produced in tokunoshima, during the early 14th century —

“what do you want?” he asks, moving the file to the pile on his right — the things to keep.

“hm… dunno. maybe… tsukemen? it’s hot outside.”

“yeah, sure,” — ukiyo-e depiction of izanagi and izanami, produced during —

“hey, tsukki?”

“hm?”

he looks up to find you standing there, too close, and yet not nearly close enough. he bites back the urge to draw you closer. you smile down at him, reaching out to cup his cheeks, to run your fingers through his hair.

he allows himself a small, indulgent smile.

“kiss me,” you say, leaning down towards him.

he kisses you, and when you draw back, the afternoon sun draped across your shoulders, seeping in from the far window, tsukishima finds himself held still by the sight of you.

“marry me,” he says, with too little thought and not enough hesitation, but really, really — he’s thought about it for far too long, sounded out the words between his lips so many times that the midnight air of his room might be able to repeat it back to him in perfect tandem.

you don’t miss a beat.

“okay,” you say, leaning down to kiss him again.

and this time, when he wraps his arms around you to pull you close, there’s no question and only ever your answer — solid and sweet and still as you press it to his lips, from your mouth to his — yes, yes, a million times yes.

“okay,” he says, smiling when he lets you go.

“see you for dinner,” you say, casting him a wave over your shoulder as you leave, your cheeks flushed high and pink.

tsukishima watches you go, his hand poised in the air in a perfect wave.

“yeah, see you then.”

and as he turns back to his work, he thinks that if his body were to be a museum to his life — the first and last exhibit… well, they’d probably both be about you.

[shownusgfayoooo]

perfection

Pairing: Seonghwa x  Y/N

Tropes: hurt/comfort, wedding dress shopping, fiance sh!

T/W: body image issues, anxiety, crying, panic, stress

Words: 2.2k

my masterlist

You couldn’t understand it. Your dreams were coming true. You had never been happier in your life. You had graduated from school after years of self-doubt and long nights of hard work. You were finally secure in all your friendships and had the time to enjoy them. And the best part of it all, you had found the love of your life. Seonghwa was not only everything you had wished for, but he was also so much more. He filled all the spaces in your heart that you didn’t even know yearned for him. He was someone you could not imagine life without, and wedding planning had been a blast so far.

So, as you tried on your fourteenth wedding dress, the part of wedding planning that you had been looking forward to most, if not your whole life, why were you crying?

The boutique owner herself had come to help zip you up into this gown as she had been noticing your mounting frustration all morning. As you turned around to hopefully see what you had been envisioning, some perfect version of yourself, your heart broke when you looked… the same. The same as you always did. You had hoped trying wedding gowns on would somehow erase years of hatred towards your body and make you see yourself as beautiful. Instead, your eyes flitted maniacally around your figure, noting all the imperfections and the unique ways in which all the dresses emphasized them.

The frustration finally hit its peak. You immediately burst into tears. If you couldn’t be beautiful on the one day you were supposed to be, and trying on a hundred dresses couldn’t achieve the look so far, then there must not be any dress that could make you beautiful. How could you marry Seonghwa? He deserved perfection. You deserved perfection. Everything felt wrong.

The two stylists shared a panicked glance but before they could figure out what to do, Wooyoung flipped the curtain aside and ran in. San and Yunho had to grapple with it, as they were the next to rush in after hearing your sobs. You weren’t sure, but in the kerfuffle, it sounded like Mingi accidentally elbowed Jongho. Yeosang and Hongjoong were the last to come in, though their eyes still held the same panic and worry.

You turned to them and started crying harder. Wooyoung wrapped his arms around you and started patting your head. You just gave in to the feeling. The boys had been so reassuring the whole appointment.

At first, you had thought they wouldn’t be interested in accompanying you. When you asked Hongjoong if he could impart some fashion advice, he had excitedly taken over the whole wedding dress aspect of the planning. He had tirelessly researched dress styles, colors, and fabrics, and had been presenting you with options for weeks. He was the one to book the appointment for today as well. But when Wooyoung heard that his hyung would be part of this “touching and girlhood experience” as he liked to put it, he had invited himself. Yunho would have to drive, so he was the next natural addition, before Yeosang had quietly asked you after dinner one night if he could join also. San and Mingi had a fight about who could take the last spot in the car, since naturally cars should only be driven at full capacity, never mind the leg room. When that fight had ended in tears, Jongho had come up with the solution to borrow a KQ vehicle that could seat everyone and not leave any member of Ateez behind, save the one who perhaps had the most to do with the whole reason for the excursion. That fact that he sneakily added himself to the group when he had firmly put himself on the decor aspect of planning after lamenting for weeks that he wanted nothing to do with clothes didn’t fool anyone.

As you reflected on all the combined enthusiasm from the people who loved you most in the world, you felt yourself becoming even more inconsolable. If there was no perfect dress for you, then why bother with any of it?

Mingi led you gently by hand to the couch outside dressing room in the lobby of the boutique. San sat you down and leaned on your shoulder, while Yeosang put his arms around you and his head on top of yours. Yunho rushed to find water, and Jongho sat himself down by your feet and started to pat your knee. They all tried to comfort you, but your blabbering only made things worse.

“Noona, don’t cry...” Yeosang’s voice was small.

“Come on, keep your chin up,” Yunho said, as he forced a straw towards you.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll find the dress! This store sucks anyways.” San got a glare from both Hongjoong and the storekeeper at that.

“Yea, you look so pretty in everything. It’s not going to be harder to find a dress than it already has been!” Sweet Mingi.

“If you cry, I’m gonna start crying. And we really don’t want that to happen.”

“Ya, shut up Wooyoung.” Jongho was inching towards his hyung with his fist clenched.

“I’m serious! I can’t stand Y/N crying as it is.”

“Can you fucking keep it together! It’s not about you, idiot.” Hongjoong looked menacing as he hissed under his breath.

“I swear I will start crying.”

You laughed through your sobs. Finding the humor in their collective attempt at making you feel better, you could finally draw a breath. And with it, you told them all your thoughts. How you wanted everything to be perfect for the wedding. Because your life was perfect now. But this dress was not perfect. And that threw into bright light how you were not perfect. And how you were failing to see any reason to continue with any of it- if you couldn’t be perfect.

They all stared at you with varying looks, ranging from discomfort to abject horror. Had you said too much? As you started to overthink, you missed Hongjoong whispering to Yunho, “Call him. He needs to be here. Right. Now.”

In the meantime, you had pulled yourself out of your spiral. You had said too much. Now you needed to backtrack and be normal again. And to do that and to truly convince the others, you had to keep going with the appointment, but not let it get to you this time. Fake it till you make it was a saying for a reason.

The stylist gave you a skeptical look as you suddenly brushed your tears away, started smiling, and asked for the next gown. You brushed away the boys’ who still wanted to feed you, or talk to you, or cry with you, gathered up your skirts and marched back into the dressing room.

You were just gritting yourself to bear the disappointment of the new dress you were being laced into when you heard the bell above the shop entrance ring.

Since Hongjoong had booked out the entire store for your appointment, you were a little curious and were thus paying attention when the boys started whispering “hyung.”

Panic settled in your chest. If Seonghwa was here... He couldn’t-

“Y/N, I’m here.” There were footsteps approaching your room.

He couldn’t be, and he was. You felt all your resolve crumble.

“Hey, get out of here! This is bad luck. You can’t see me.” Your voice was shaky as you called out to him.

“Y/N, please. Please let me in.”

“No, you can’t be here.” Your sentence ended in a sob. You couldn’t help it.

There was a rustling of the curtain. Your eyes flew up to the mirror to watch him walk in, backwards?

He reached back with his hands blindly. “Y/N, see? I’m walking in backwards. I can’t see you. Now, can you please come over here, and let me talk to you?”

You walked towards him, too, and turned so that you would be back-to-back. Every step closer to him released the tension that was holding you prisoner. When you touched, you breathed a deep sigh of relief. You felt him do the same.

“The guys called me.” His voice was a whisper. “They told me you were the most upset they had ever seen you. And what you said. I ran over here as fast as I could.”

“I’m sorry.” You could barely get the words out.

His hands grabbed yours. “Stop. Don’t apologize.”

“I just- I just, I feel-“

“I know. Hongjoong told me word for word what you said. And I want to tell you, that it’s all bullshit.”

You laughed a little at how scary his voice sounded. He squeezed your hands tighter at the sound.

“I’m not saying how you’re feeling is bullshit. I validate your feelings. I know how hard it is to look at yourself in the mirror sometimes. I know how hard it is to want to look different. I get it; you know I do.” You nodded against his back. There had been many times where you both had picked each other up during hard times. You could never forget any of it.

“But, the rest of it? About being perfect? That is bullshit. Y/N, there is no such thing as perfect in this world, ok? Nothing. But you, you are perfect to me. You are everything to me. The person that you are- that’s someone I’ve waited for and wished for a long time. And you are beautiful. Endlessly. In anything you wear, however you look. I know you are beautiful in all these gowns without even seeing you in them. You just need to find one that you like. It doesn’t have to look any certain way or make you look any certain way, ok?”

You nodded softly.

“All the added pressure of perfection and the frustration of trying dress after dress, when I know you hate shopping and trying on clothes just made it all a lot worse today, right?”

You were pleasantly surprised at how succinctly he summed up your feelings that even you couldn’t name.

“Wow, yea..”

“So, let’s try again another day. Put an end to this gross experience for now, and for next time, we can come in a bit more prepared emotionally to find the perfect dress. Because it exists. And when you’re in a better headspace, you will see that too. And feel beautiful and see yourself the way the whole world sees you.” His voice dipped into a whisper. “The way I see you.”

The last bit of something released in your chest, and in its place, there was light. “Are your eyes closed?”

He fumbled his words a bit as he responded. You got the feeling that you had interrupted his spiel a little. “Um, ah- no. I…”

“Close them, please.”

“Y/N, what-?”

“Are they closed?”

He had barely finished saying the word yes when you turned and walked around to face him to throw your arms around him.

His breath came out in a little “oof” with how fiercely you threw yourself into his arms, but he was quick to wrap them around you just as tightly.

His cheek came down to the top of your head as he just held you.

“I love you, Hwa.”

“I love you, too.”

“I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“It’s understandable. And there’s no reason for apologizing.”

“Thanks for coming all the way and helping me through it.”

“Anything for you, my love.”

You took one last deep breath and smiled.

“You better not be peeking.”

“Ok, Ms. I-will-call-this-wedding-off-if-I-can’t-find-a-dress.”

“Hey!” You pulled back to see his lips twitching with a smirk. It matched your own.

“Sorry, baby. Too soon?”

“YEAH, IT’S FUCKING TOO SOON, HYUNG. ARE YOU CRAZY?” It almost took you a second to place the inhumane screech as Wooyoung’s. Surprised, you both turned to the curtain separating you from the rest of the world.

The sheer shock of it all had Seonghwa’s opening his eyes inadvertently. He was turning back to you when you quickly threw your hands over his eyes.

“NO PEEKING!”

He laughed deeply, then tilted his head back to place a kiss on your palm.       

“Be good now. I gotta go take care of the little one- it’s his turn.”

You laughed softly to yourself and watched the curtain flap down as he walked out. Another deep breath. Before, you could leave and end this horrid appointment, you snuck one more glance at the mirror. And what you saw, was what you had known was there this whole time. Beauty.

It was in your gown. It was in the way the curves and lines of your body pushed at the fabric. It was in the way the it clung to you in some places and draped down you in others. It was in the way your eyes lit up now when you looked at yourself. More importantly, it was in the way Wooyoung was crying outside at having seen you cry. It was in the way that San and Yeosang held you when you were upset. It was in the way that Jongho gave you skinship for comfort when he hated it. It was in the way Yunho found something to nourish you. It was in the way Mingi was quick to reassure you. It was in Hongjoong calling your fiancé. But, mostly, it was in Seonghwa. It was in the relationship you had built together. And it was in the life you were going to have together.

After the most beautiful wedding, of course.