#non-lavender funeral

[lavender-funeral]

i guess i'll also post some non-lesbian stuff but still involving @/chevelierrr

[colormepurplex2]

In Memory of Him | It's Cold In Here

↳ Florist!Taehyung x Artist!f.Reader ⤜ Non-Idol, Late Husband's Best Friend ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 13,558 ⚠️ Mild language, death/loss of a loved one, deep depression, high anxiety, loads of guilt, hidden feelings, realizations, hurt feelings, repressed feelings, hurt/comfort

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With trembling fingers, you smooth out the letter that you found attached to a bundle of flowers on your doorstep.

To the love of my life, For after the funeral Take a deep breath, baby, I know it’s not easy. Even as I sit and write this, I can feel your energy in the next room. You’re always such a worrier, I’m sorry I’ve added to that. It’ll all be better soon, I promise. But, I know you and I know that you’ll pull away, you’ll cut yourself off…and we can’t have that, now can we? You have to keep going if we’re to stay connected even after I’m gone.

So, here’s the first of a collection of some things that you can hold and look back on when the storm starts to roll in. There are only so many words in existence to describe what you mean to me. So, instead of words, I want you to remember these feelings: Warmth - like the sun on your face while you read a great book Satisfaction - the way you sigh softly after a good, lazy day in bed Contentment - waking up with a smile on your face every morning Peace - that moment of quiet before the rain starts, when the scent of petrichor filters in These are all the things you’ve brought into my life the last seven years. I’ve never been able to look at the sun, sleeping, smiles, or storms the same. Never did I imagine I’d meet and marry such a beautiful, kind-hearted soul with a genuinely unique outlook on life. I never had to be reminded to smile because it just came so naturally whenever you were around. You have brought so much light into my world and gave me the best years of my life. You also gave me Sujin, the perfect little replica of myself even if you think he looks more like you than me (I secretly agree, but that’s not something I’ll admit outloud). When I look at our wonderful son, I’m reminded of the beauty that first drew me to you all those years ago. Being his father is the second greatest achievement of my life, the first being making you fall madly in love with me…don’t laugh, you know it’s true. Many people see things in black and white, a beginning and an end…but our life isn’t like that. We’re full of color and everything in between. You’ve supported me at my best and have loved me at my worst. Everything good in my life is because of you. I know you’ll always love me, and I know it won’t be easy once I’m gone, but I need you to promise me you’ll continue to wake up with that smile on your face and never forget how the sun feels or how beautiful the quiet before the storm is. I need my light, my girl, to keep going. Be that guiding light so I know exactly where you are in the world as I watch over you and Sujin. We knew forever wasn’t guaranteed, that’s just the way life is, right? This doesn’t mean it’s over, not by a long shot. You still have so much more to give, so much more love to offer.  I know you’d never forget about me, that’s not what this letter is for—it’s not a reminder of me, it’s a reminder to live, love, and keep shining. There are more where this came from, Taehyung has them and knows what to do, but not until you’re ready for them. I love you so much, never stop living—for me, for Sujin…for you. Love forever, Your Yejun

The letter crumples in your fist, the bundle of hibiscus and lavender it was attached to forgotten on the step between your feet as you bury your face in the crook of your elbow and scream. It’s better that way—the symbolism of the hibiscus flower on a letter from Yejun is a punch to the gut when he’s no longer here. Eternity? Bullshit. The sound is muffled into the thick wool of your coat but no less filled with agony. As if the day wasn’t hard enough, everything went belly-up when you found the flowers and the letter on your door step. You choke on a breath of air as you try to control yourself.

“Yejun.” His name drips from your trembling lips, absorbed into your jacket sleeve like your cries. “I miss you so much. Why did you have to leave us?”

A hand on your shoulder makes you flinch, jerking away from the potential comfort, despite it being exactly what you need right now. You crowd against the wall, knees knocking into one another as you huddle in on yourself where you’re sitting in the stairwell outside your apartment door.

“Hey, hey, hey, come here,” a strong, soothing voice coos. Your limbs protest weakly for a moment, your heart raging with guilt at the prospect of finding solace in another man’s arms—even if that man is Taehyung, your now late husband's best friend—but the desperate need for someone to hold your pieces together wins out. You fear if you let yourself truly break, you’ll never be able to be made whole again. You frantically launch into those open arms, keening a wail into the solid chest between them. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

💔💔💔

Two years later

“Mommy, are we going to Uncle Tae’s house today?” Sujin asks from behind you, where he’s strapped into his booster seat.

You glance in the rearview mirror, angling yourself so you catch a glimpse of his smile as he stares out the window, patiently awaiting your answer. It’s gotten easier over the last two years to look at him without growing weepy. He looks like and reminds you so much of Yejun. They have the same chestnut-colored eyes and floppy midnight tresses. When he smiles, the tiny dimple on his left cheek is a near mirror to his father’s and something that your eyes seek out every time he flashes you a grin. Little pieces of his father that fill the gaps in your heart.

“Did you not want to stay at Grandma’s tonight? That’s what you said you wanted yesterday,” you remind him.

Sujin hums like he’s thinking hard about your question. “Well, I did want to go to Grandma’s, but I also want to see Uncle Tae, and plus, he always has good ice cream. All Grandma has is boring vanilla.”

“How about we see if Uncle Tae wants to hang out this weekend? I think Grandma would be sad if you decided not to stay with her tonight.”

In truth, you’d also be a bit disappointed if Sujin changed his mind. Being only four when his father passed, he doesn’t remember Yejun much, mostly knows him from photos and stories he’s heard. So, it’s not surprising he’s not able to put together that today is the second anniversary of his father’s passing. He doesn’t know that tonight isn’t just about your mom getting a visit. It’s also about you having an evening to grieve without being under your son's watchful and inquisitive eye.

Though maybe you’re wrong, perhaps he knows more than you think as he responds softly, “It’s okay, Mommy, I’ll stay with Grandma so you can go visit Daddy.”

If it wasn’t for tightening your grip on the steering wheel, you might have driven right off the highway. “You know what today is?” you ask hesitantly once your initial shock passes.

“Of course I do,” Sujin says with another smile, his dimple catching in the afternoon sunlight coming in through the car window. “I might not remember him, but I could never forget him.” It’s a wonder there aren’t more six-year-old poets, as what he just said is easily the most eloquent thing ever uttered by a child. Your heart swells, and you feel that telltale burn in the back of your nose and behind your eyes as you blink away the flood of emotions threatening to spill into the open.

You nod, taking a deep breath. “That’s right. He’d be so proud of you and how much you’ve grown.”

“He’d be proud of you, too, Mommy.”

It’s another blow, directly targeting the cracks already forming in your armor. Fissures zip and snap over the surface of the wall you’ve spent the last two years building. “Thank you, buddy. I love you,” you manage to get past the lump in your throat. 

The rest of the car ride home is spent with Sujin telling you about his day at school and how one of his classmates snuck a salamander into the classroom after recess. You hum, haw, and laugh as he recounts the way the class reacted to the discovery of the amphibian.

It makes you feel lighter, listening to his words and hearing the clear whimsy his heart possesses as the salamander suddenly becomes a dragon and Sujin, the fearless knight that saved the teacher—the damsel in distress—by scooping it up and putting it in an empty lunch box.

“She said since I was so brave and such a good helper that I could go outside with Mr. Kim, the science teacher, and help him release it back into the wild,” he proudly proclaims. “Did you know salamanders like water? Mr. Kim said they’re kind of like frogs even though they look more like lizards.” Sujin continues on, spouting off facts he learned about the salamander from his science teacher.

It’s a short drive from the school to your apartment. You’ve often thought about moving, using some of the life insurance money from Yejun to buy you and Sujin a lovely place outside the city. But, your mom lives just a floor up, and it’s been convenient having someone so close to look after Sujin when you need them, like tonight.

Having your mom close by, not just as a babysitter but also as an emotional support outlet, has been a blessing and far outweighs the other feelings—the seemingly endless void that now lingers in place of your late husband. With that, though, you can’t help looking at your small apartment as more like a preservation of memories. It was the first place you and Yejun moved into after getting married. It’s the place you both brought Sujin home to when he was born. It’s still filled with so many memories…you’re not sure you want to leave—at least, not yet.

The building has no elevator, just several winding flights of steps right up the middle. “Go on up to Grandma’s. I’ll stop by with dinner before I leave. Remember, homework first before you play.”

Sujin gives you a beaming smile and nods his head in understanding before vaulting up the stairs, his strong six-year-old legs carrying him far faster than your own. You watch him disappear up the stairs—the last flash of his face so reminiscent of Yejun racing up those very same steps the day you moved in—followed by the familiar sound of your mother’s voice drifting out over and down the stairwell as she welcomes him into her space—a safe space, away from the looming cloud of darkness over you.

Knowing he’s occupied and cared for, you allow your mask to slip just a little. The weight on your shoulders eases as you let the emotional fatigue roll in and replace your typically calm and collected demeanor. Even after two years, it’s not gotten any easier when this particular day comes. The holidays are hard, sure. There are plenty of days where you find yourself feeling like it’s too much…but nothing truly compares to this day. It’s not filled with happy memories the way those other days are. It’s nothing but darkness. There is a constant ache in your chest, which is amplified when the calendar turns over, and you find yourself once again reliving that fateful day all over again.

You spent nearly every waking hour sitting beside Yejun, the uncomfortable, stiff hospital chair becoming your permanent perch. The ventilator was always loud, but the punching swoosh grew to be comforting because you knew that meant he was still there. All the lines and tubes hooked up to him made it look like a scene from one of those sci-fi films he enjoyed making you watch with him. Yejun was so full of life when you first met, many years before. But, the image stuck in your mind—the one you can’t seem to get rid of—is of him with sallow cheeks and pale, greyish lips, drained of life.

It’s weird to think of watching someone die. But that’s precisely what you did over the six months Yejun was in the hospital. The disease moved quickly, the cancer stealing your husband away bit by bit, and you were powerless to stop it. That’s probably one of the worst parts, the helpless feeling that no matter what you do, you can’t prevent it from happening. No amount of prayer, begging, or screaming would change it. He’d still die, just the same. Day by day, the best parts of the man you loved vanished, and by the end—you feel guilty even thinking the thoughts, so you push them out of your head. 

After unlocking the door, you step into the quiet space of your apartment. Your shoes join the ones discarded by the door before you drop your purse on the small console table against the wall and make your way across the living room to the hall leading to the bedrooms. Sujin’s room is the first door. You peek inside to see that he had made up his bed before school this morning. You make a mental note to grab one of his chocolate popsicles from the freezer before dropping off dinner tonight. He deserves a little treat for being such a good kid.

The small single bathroom sits between Sujin’s room and the larger of the two bedrooms, the one you shared with Yejun for almost five years. You haven’t changed any of the decor. Everything is the same as it always has been, right down to the pillow on Yejun’s side of the bed. It took months before you mustered the courage to wash the pillow case and cried the entire time you stripped the pillow and plopped it in the washer.

The pillow was small fish compared to the closet. Going through all of Yejun’s clothes nearly took you out. Thankfully, Taehyung was there to help. You weren’t the only one that lost someone two years ago today. Taehyung and Yejun grew up together and worked together for the last dozen years, starting out as teens together at Taehyung’s parents' florist shop. They are—were—as close as brothers, and not just for the fact that Taehyung’s parents took Yejun in when his parents both passed, but because of their unbreakable bond—a bond nearly as strong as the one you had with Yejun.

Taehyung has been there for you whenever you’ve needed him since Yejun’s passing. All it takes is a phone call or a text message, and he drops everything for you. You try not to take advantage of it because you don’t want him sucked into your empty void any more than he already is. No grown man should be attached to a woman like that, especially when he has no obligation for it.

But, you must admit, it’s nice knowing he’s there…especially today. This is the one day of the year that you know you don’t have to text or call Taehyung for him to show up. His one promise to you. He’ll be there, waiting for you at the cemetery, just like he was last year.

You pull off your oversized t-shirt and worn jeans covered in splotches of paint from your time in the studio today. Once a well-known local artist, you haven’t been able to create anything worthwhile since Yejun passed. He would always joke about being your one true muse. It seems he wasn’t wrong. Everything you’ve been able to create in the last two years feels wrong, like it’s missing something.

The life insurance you received from Yejun has been more than enough to keep you and Sujin afloat. However, you feel like a failure having even to touch that money, even if it’s just to pay the bills. If you could just get your life together, you’d be able to provide for yourself and Sujin the way you once did—before everything happened. Shoving that line of thinking away, you focus on the here and now, just getting through the next handful of hours.

A quick shower later, and you’re dressed in a warm sweater and a clean pair of jeans with thick wool socks. It’s cold, winter having well and truly taken hold outside, but when the sun goes down, the bite from the wind grows more bitter. Grabbing the large, lidded bowl of beef stew you had cooking in the slow cooker all day. You wrap it in a dish towel to keep from burning your hands on the hot sides, snag a popsicle for Sujin, and make the short trip upstairs to your mom’s place.

“Hey, sweetheart,” your mom greets you when she opens the door. She’s gotten a lot more grey in her hair in the last year or so. The steel-colored strands stand out against her temples, framing her strong but still soft face. You used to think she looked too austere, but then you realized that was just the permanent mark of motherhood and time.

“Hi, Mom. Did Sujin get his homework done?” You follow your mom in, shutting and locking the door behind you as she ambles into the kitchen on the other side of the living room. Her apartment is a near mirror of your own, her second bedroom set up for Sujin as well.

“He finished a bit ago and wanted to break out the paints. Was nattering on about some sort of lizard, I think. He wanted to try to paint it,” she explains, putting the tea kettle on without needing to ask. Peppermint tea with a dollop of honey can fix even the worst of woes in her eyes. She’ll insist you have some just as she has any other time she can feel your darkness crowding in. You’ve grown to appreciate your mother's intuition, both for yourself and your son's sake.

“There was an incident involving a student bringing in a salamander at school, it seems. Sujin helped the teacher and was allowed to go out with Namjoon—Mr. Kim—to release it.” You recall the conversation in the car, your mother chuckling softly when you tell her about the salamander turning into a dragon.

She busies herself, packing the tea steeper with her own blend of mint tea. Tending the small garden of herbs and spices that she keeps on the fire escape off the living room, is how she spends most of her days since she retired a few years ago. Even in winter, she keeps a small plastic greenhouse over them, opening it just enough to care for them each day. “So, you’re on a first-name basis with that science teacher now?” she asks. You can tell she’s lightly probing, trying to figure out if there is anything more between you and ‘Mr. Kim’.

“I met him at the beginning of the year when we had parent-teacher meetings. He insisted I call him Namjoon, that’s all, Mom.”

Humming, she grabs the kettle just before it begins to whistle. “Still, he’s nice?” she asks, casting you a glance over her shoulder.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, wishing she’d not try to go down this path of questioning. You know she means well, but you’re just…you’re not ready to think about those things.

“He’s nice enough, Mom, I guess. It was just a slip of the tongue. I’m used to greeting him at drop-off in the mornings. It’s not—I don’t, it’s just being cordial, y’know? I’m not ready…” you trail off, hoping your mom picks up on what you’re trying to say so you don’t actually have to say it; not today.

Her free hand goes to her mouth, covering her frown. “Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t mean—you know I’d never, not like that. I’m sorry. Forgive an old fool for her loose words.”

“It’s okay, Mom, really,” you offer with a tight smile as you set the stew on the counter and pop the popsicle you brought for Sujin in the freezer.

She sets down the tea, the cup slightly trembling on the tiny saucer she serves it on. “I made some pajeon to go with the stew. It’s warming in the oven. Are you going to stay for dinner?” she asks, seeing that you need to move on from the previous subject.

You settle on one of the chairs at her small dining table, pick up the tiny teacup, and blow across the surface before taking a tentative sip. The mint is a cooling contrast to the heat of the liquid, coating your throat with a soothing sensation. The blooming sweetness of the honey lingers on your tongue, helping combat the intense punch of the minty flavor. It’s comforting. Reminds you of home.

“I’m not all that hungry. You and Sujin enjoy it. You’re sure you’re okay taking him to school tomorrow?” She gives you a fond smile and nods. “I’ll pick him up on my way home and we’ll come have dinner.”

“That’s fine, sweetheart.”

You finish off the tea, suppressing a grimace as it goes down a little too warm and nearly scalds your throat. The sun will be completely down soon, and you’d like to get to the cemetery before it’s too dark out. “I should get going. Just going to say hi to him real quick.”

Your mom watches you stand. Her eyes are hyper-focused on your face. “Okay, sweetheart,” she says slowly. It’s clear she wants to say more, but you’re glad she doesn’t push.

The room your mom has set up for Sujin has a small bed pushed into one corner, leaving the rest of the space for him to play—unlike his room at your place, which has a writing desk and dresser taking up the majority of the play space. He’s never complained, though, choosing to get creative with the small room he does have. “Hey, buddy, Grandma said you’re painting. Can I see?”

You lean on the door jamb, peering into the room. The easel Sujin is using is angled away from the door. All you can see is smears of bright color peeking around the edge of the canvas.

His bright eyes meet yours as he grins extra wide. “It’s not done yet, but of course you can see it.”

Stepping in and around the easel frame, you take in the canvas covered in paint. When your mom said he was going to paint the salamander, you knew there was a possibility of said ‘lizard’ being portrayed as a dragon as it was in Sujin’s story in the car. But what you didn’t expect were the characters surrounding the dragon. You count them, six in total. The brunette woman at the top of the castle tower is clearly Sujin’s teacher, Mrs. Min. Sujin himself is astride the dragon, and who you think is Namjoon stands in a corner near some trees, his large-frame glasses are what lead you to believe that’s who it is. The other three characters are where you’re a bit lost.

“Who are these people?” you ask, gesturing to the other feminine figure framed by two men; one with unruly black hair and the other with small angel wings extending from his shoulders. It dawns on you the moment you ask.

“That’s you, Daddy, and Uncle Tae, of course,” Sujin proudly states. “You were in the tower with Mrs. Min. I’m rescuing her, and Uncle Tae is rescuing you while Daddy guides him.”

You’re not sure what to say. But you can’t help looking at your son in a different light. He’s only six, but in moments like this, you feel like his soul is older and wiser than yours. “It’s lovely,” you finally say, because it truly is, and everything else you could say would definitely start the waterworks, and there will be enough of that later. “I’ll be back tomorrow to get you. Be good for Grandma. There’s a treat for you in the freezer, but only after dinner, okay?” You feel like you’re running away—and maybe you are, but the darkness creeps in just a little bit further the more you look at his painting.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sujin beams at you sweetly. He lifts his chin, angling a cheek in your direction for a kiss. You plant one there, throwing an arm around his back for a quick squeeze, too. “Love you, Mommy.”

“Love you, too, buddy,” you murmur, shoving down the suffocating feeling bubbling in your chest—just need to make it a few more hours.

💔💔💔

The cemetery is about an hour's drive from your place in the city. Yejun grew up in the countryside, and the columbarium where he’s interred is at the cemetery closest to his and Taehyung’s childhood home. It’s a quiet drive, a typical Tuesday evening if it were any other week. You don’t even bother with music, haven’t in the last two years, preferring to just soak in the quiet and try to center yourself.

As you pull into the parking area outside the gate to the grounds, you spot Taehyung’s black SUV. He’s standing beside it, leaning against the driver's side door with his chin tipped down below the line of the thick scarf wrapped around his neck. Your headlights swing across his vehicle, illuminating him in the process as you park.

You take your time climbing out of your car, casting fleeting glances in his direction while you gather your courage and resolve. He’s wearing a thick grey-colored tweed coat that covers him to the knees, and khaki slacks lead down to shiny brown loafers. His hair is windswept, the fluffy waves moving across his forehead with every gust of chilly air.

“Hey,” you say as you swing open your door and step out. He catches your eye over the roof of your car and gives you a soft smile.

“Good evening. Drive okay?”

You nod. “Not too much traffic, which is always nice.”

“You should have let me come and pick you up.” It’s the same thing he said last year, to which you decline politely just the same as well.

“Thanks, but I enjoy the drive. Gives me time to think.”

His eyes flick over you, taking you in from head to toe. There is understanding clear on his face. “Shall we?” He gestures toward the entrance gate. You notice a small bundle of flowers held in his other hand that’s hanging by his side. “Oh, this is for you.” It surprises you when Taehyung offers you the flowers, having thought he was bringing them to leave in Yejun’s vase.

You take the offered cluster, automatically bringing it to your nose and giving it a delicate sniff. It’s hard to smell the fragrance in the cold, but as you peer down at the flowers and take in the deep purple and soft pink, the scent of lavender and hibiscus filters through as if on a memory. It’s a combination that reminds you painfully of Yejun, as this was always his go-to whenever he would bring you home flowers from the shop after work.

“Thank y—“ your polite words cut off as you hear the distinct crackle of paper as you shift the bundle of flowers between your hands. “What’s this?” you ask, holding the flowers up until you see the small envelope attached to the hemp string holding the bunch together.

“A note,” Taehyung responds slowly as if he’s trying to decide if that’s all he’ll say. “Perhaps wait until we’re settled to read it?”

You finger the crisp fold of parchment, wondering. “Okay, yeah,” you agree, chalking it up to most likely being a grievance note from Taehyung, and it might be awkward for you to read it right now in front of him.

The cemetery typically closes at sundown, but Taehyung has access as the gardener. When he and Yejun took over Taehyung’s parents' floral shop, they expanded the business to include landscaping for local companies and establishments. The cemetery is one such establishment they took on. He produces a key from his pocket, unlocking the small pedestrian gate that must have been locked up not too long ago, judging by the sun barely having dipped below the horizon.

“Moojin left about ten minutes before you pulled up,” Taehyung explains casually, confirming the thought you just had. “It’ll just be us, so we can take as much time as we need.”

Maybe you should feel bad that Taehyung gives you preferential treatment and access to the cemetery after hours, but it’s hard to care about that when other, darker feelings have you clutched so tightly. The walk to the columbarium is relatively short, being one of the newer buildings erected within the grounds just some twenty years ago or so.

“The trees are doing well, even in the winter,” you note, nodding toward the row of young pines along the fence line. It was one of the last projects Yejun worked on with Taehyung before he became ill.

“He’d be able to tell you all the properties of the tree that make it sustainable during this time of the year,” Taehyung responds, his voice carrying notes of sadness. Yejun doesn’t come up much in conversation between the two of you, most things not needing to be said, merely understood without a spoken word. So, it’s surprising and endearing to actually hear Taehyung talk about him, especially now.

You smile, knowing he’s right. “With enough scientific jargon to make you go cross-eyed trying to keep up, too.”

That earns you a soft laugh from Taehyung. “And he wouldn’t even realize it until you’re so lost you can’t even pretend to have understood.”

“I miss that,” you whisper with a sigh, your warm breath misting lightly in the cold.

Taehyung slips his arm through yours, hooking his elbow around the crook of your arm. “Me, too.”

💔💔💔

Taehyung

It’s never easy, watching the way you suffer through your emotions. Taehyung knows you try to hide them, and sometimes you’re successful. But others…like right now, he can read you as clear as a bright spring sky. Only instead of pastel blues, pinks, and yellows, you’re a stark monochrome of Pantone grey. Just as clear, but decidedly less alive. He hates it. Knowing just how vibrant of a person you once were. When Yejun left your life, so, too, did the color, it seems. Leeched away with the slow death of your husband. It’s a cruel fate, Taehyung has decided, and it’s one you never deserved. Yejun also knew this. He saw this in the way you mourned at his bedside, even before he was gone. It’s why Yejun made Taehyung promise to take care of you, to never let you forget how to smile.

As more time passes, Taehyung isn’t sure whether or not he’s done a good job by Yejun’s request. Not when the dark circles around your eyes seem to get more permanent every time Taehyung sees you. It’s why he brought the letter—the next letter. He’s curious if you remember the first one, the one that came the day of Yejun’s funeral; the one that had you crawling into Taehyung’s arms for the first time, seeking the comfort you knew was there.

That’s happened a few times in the two years since Yejun now. Any time you begin to fray at the edges and unravel a bit too quickly, Taehyung’s been there, weaving you back together the best he can. It might not be pretty, but a patchwork quilt is better than shredded rags, he likes to think. He hopes, at least.

“Are you warm enough?” Taehyung asks, realizing your arm is trembling around his. The jacket you’re wearing is far too thin, meant more for warding off spring rain showers than winter chills. Your lips are formed into a thin, bloodless line as if you’re trying to keep your teeth from chattering, and your brow is pinched.

The lift of your shoulder is subtle, dismissive and nonchalant. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. Here,” Taehyung insists, pulling you to a halt on the walking path. “Take this.” He shrugs out of his jacket, draping it over the thinner trench you’re wearing over your sweater. You instantly relax, a soft sigh misting the air in front of your mouth.

“Thank you. I forget how cold it gets out here at night,” you mumble, encouraging Taehyung to continue walking toward the entrance to the columbarium, where Yejun’s memorial awaits. “Are you sure you’ll be okay without it?” Your eyes are round and glassy when you look up at him, the moonlight overhead reflecting in their depths.

The thick sweater Taehyung has on paired with his wool scarf is enough to stave off the wintery bite, but what warms him the most is seeing your eyes flash with a brief flicker of life when you snuggle into the depths of his jacket, bringing the tweed collar up around your neck after he assures you he’s fine without it.

Your feet shuffle, your stride slowing as you approach the columbarium. Taehyung can feel your hesitancy. The air around you is suffocating and full of static, something Taehyung wants desperately to help dispel.

“Come on. Together.” Taehyung offers you his hand, splaying his fingers wide in invitation. You lick your lips, eyes flicking between Taehyung’s face and his offered hand. Finally, you sag a little and slip your fingers in between his.

Your hand is soft and delicate in his. Taehyung has always admired your ability as an artist, being able to take your hands and a simple tool like a paintbrush and create something profound and breathtaking. Some might argue that what Taehyung does is also a form of art, but he swears it’s nothing compared to the pure magic you create. He’s found himself under your spell more than once, entranced by your art.

Even the works you’ve created in the last two years, the things you keep hidden away in your studio, are still quite beautiful—if more haunted. Taehyung knows you’re not selling any art and you haven’t hosted a gallery night in almost three years now. The few times he’s been inside your studio since Yejun, you’ve indulged his curiosity and let him look at the things you’ve worked on.

Taehyung cherishes those private moments you allow him within your space. He uses them as a time to reflect on what life has brought to you and to him. You have a shared experience of losing someone, but it’s clear you’re both working through your pain differently. Your studio, once a bright and vibrant space filled with inspiration and captured moments of love, is now more of a tomb, silent and full of the whisper of death.

Taehyung eases open the door to the columbarium. The motion-activated lights within flicker on and fill the space with a soft yellow glow. It’s better than the typical fluorescent white lights they used to use. Taehyung thinks the bright, sterile lighting is far too reminiscent of a morgue or hospital, not exactly places people should be reminded of when coming to visit their dead loved ones. So, he suggested the change when he took over doing the gardening for the cemetery.

Yejun’s niche is towards the back of the space, near the bottom. You separate yourself from Taehyung, letting the bundle of flowers droop upside down in your hand as you step lightly across the floor. You look like a specter, gliding across holy ground in search of what’s keeping you tied to this plane of existence. In many ways, Taehyung thinks that’s precisely what is happening with you. You’re suspended in time, stuck in a limbo of heartache.

In the two years since Yejun, you haven’t been able to move on, even though that’s exactly what Yejun wanted you to do. Yejun never wanted you to mourn him for long. He told Taehyung there was far too much love for you to give, and you had a heart big enough to love someone else while still holding true to Yejun. What Yejun failed to realize, Taehyung thinks, is that without Yejun, you didn’t want to love again.

Taehyung holds back a few steps, giving you some time to have a private moment as you kneel down in front of Yejun’s niche. The placard covering the niche is engraved with his name, birth and death dates, and a small metal frame that holds a glass engraved likeness of Yejun. It pains Taehyung to see the smiling face and crinkled eyes behind his wireframed glasses. Yejun was his brother in all ways, except for being born to the same parents. That didn’t matter to them, though—still doesn’t matter to Taehyung. They love—loved—each other just as fiercely as if they had been.

“Yejun,” you whimper his name, pressing a hand to the placard, head hanging low. Taehyung watches your shoulders shake with silent sobs, and he can’t take it anymore. He moves across the space and kneels down beside you, ignoring the cold that instantly leeches through the knees of his trousers. Before he can think better of it, he has his arms around you, trying to hold you together…trying to keep your seams from unraveling too fast.

Taehyung coos softly, murmuring as many words of encouragement and solace as can work past his quivering lips, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s going to be okay. I promise. He loved you so fiercely. I miss him, too. I’m here for you. Shh, it’s going to be okay.” Over and over again, Taehyung repeats it like a mantra until your sniffles subside, and you slump into his arms, feebly returning his embrace.

Feeling your arms around him is a comfort, one that helps him keep his own tears in check. “Thank you for being here,” you sniff before burying your face in his scarf and inhaling deeply.

“I’m always going to be here for you,” Taehyung offers, smoothing a hand over your hair in what he hopes is a soothing fashion. He watched Yejun console you enough times to have a good idea of what might help. After Sujin was born, you battled postpartum depression for a while, and Taehyung helped wherever he could, giving him those brief glimpses into your emotional turmoil. Yejun always petted your hair and let you ground yourself in his embrace. He never even had to say a word; just let you draw on his strength. So, Taehyung has always tried to emulate that for you whenever you’ve needed him.

You sigh, and Taehyung reluctantly lets you pull away to sit back on your heels. “I’m such a mess. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Taehyung says, capturing the side of your face in one of his hands. You sway on your knees; big, round, red-rimmed eyes locked onto his. “Never apologize to me. You’re human, not a mess. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, lips barely moving. You slowly turn, sitting with your back against Yejun’s niche.

“Okay,” Taehyung repeats, and settles in beside you. He barely notices the cold this time as it seeps through the seat of his pants. There are far too many fierce emotions rolling through him to be bothered by the chill.

“Is it okay if I read this now?” you ask after several moments of shared silence.

Taehyung looks over at you, fingering the small envelope attached to the bundle of fresh flowers he brought. He swallows past the thick knot in his throat, worried about you reading it but knowing you need to. Perhaps it’ll be best read when he’s around and not in the solitude of your apartment where you could fall apart without someone there to catch you; Taehyung knows Sujin is staying at your mother’s tonight.

He clears his throat. “Uh, sure, yeah.”

“They really are beautiful,” you say, voice so soft it barely carries to Taehyung. You admire the flowers for a moment, and the anxiety Taehyung had earlier in the shop when he was wrapping them goes away. He was worried that he got the flowers wrong. He knew Yejun always brought you fresh flowers, different types for different occasions. Yejun was all about the spiritual and emotional meaning of flowers, something that Taehyung hardly paid any mind to until after.

Finally, you tug the end of the string that attaches the envelope to the flowers, and you set them to the side. The flap is tucked into the envelope, so you slide it out and remove the tri-folded parchment from within. It looks the same as it did the day Yejun gave it to Taehyung a few weeks before he died. It’s the same as all the other letters waiting in a box under Taehyung’s bed—waiting for the right moment, waiting for you.

“If you need a moment—” Taehyung begins to say, but you hold up a hand to silence him. Slowly, you unfold the paper and smooth it over your thighs. Your eyes flick over the paper, snatching on random words until they hit the name signed at the bottom.

“What is this?” you whisper, yet your voice cuts like steel. “Is this a cruel joke?” You hold the paper up for Taehyung to see. At the top, it reads ‘For if you haven’t moved on’. Taehyung can understand why you might think so.

“N-no. It’s…there’s…” Taehyung pauses and takes a deep breath before trying again. “It’s not a joke. It’s from Yejun.” The look of hurt that ghosts across your face brings a prickling heat behind Taehyung's eyes, and he has to blink them several times to hold his emotions at bay as he explains. “The letter I gave you after the funeral?” He waits until you give him a subtle nod. “This is another he gave me…along with many others.”

“Many others?” you ask, incredulity seeping into your tone.

“He wanted to leave you something, something more than just your memories and heartache. So, he spent a few weeks, before he got bad, writing letters to you. He gave them to me and made me promise I’d give them to you when the time was right. This one—” Taehyung nods toward the letter held between your fingers “—was one I wasn’t sure if I’d have to give you or not. It was one Yejun specifically said to only give you if…well, if you hadn’t started living life again.”

“Hadn’t started living life again?” You balk at that, rearing back from him with an angry look pinching your face.

Taehyung feels like he’s botching this, not explaining it properly to you or something. “Just, just please read it.” Taehyung has no idea what the letter says. He never wanted to invade Yejun’s and your privacy. He’s hoping, though, that maybe the letter might hold some key information to help you understand…to help ease your anger in a way that Taehyung’s words can’t seem to.

You stare at Taehyung for a moment, and he’s certain you’re about to spit in his face and leave him sitting here alone. But, you finally shake your head and sigh, settling back into place and focusing on the paper. Taehyung is sorely tempted to try and read over your shoulder, but he doesn’t want to further your ire. So, he slides a few inches away, opening up a wide, cold gap between the two of you…and waits.

💔💔💔

To the love of my life,   For if you haven’t moved on Hi, baby. I hope this is a letter Tae never has to give you, but if you’re reading this, then that means we’re not doing so well. I say ‘we’, because I’m still there with you. Just like I promised in my other letter. I told Tae to use his discretion on whether to ever give you this or not. He knows you nearly as well as I do, so I trust him. So, if you ever read this, know he doesn’t mean any harm by it…I don’t mean any harm by it. But, baby, you gotta start living again. At this point, I don’t know how much time will have passed since I had to go away, but I do know you can’t let much more time pass. I need you to live, my love. Live for me, live for Sujin…live for yourself. No more standing by while the world continues to spin, you have to spin with it, baby, let it carry you away, and on to better days. Please. Find something that makes you laugh, find something that makes you smile…even if it’s a someone. I know you’ll always love me. There is no doubt about that. But, don’t let that love stop you from living. Let someone in, let someone help…love again, for me. Show the world that it can’t tear you down. Go on a date, go skydiving, go to one of those fancy art galleries in Italy you used to fantasize about…just go, baby. Go and do, and be free. Don’t be afraid…please, don’t be afraid to live. Love forever, Your Yejun

The memory of the other letter, albeit a bit fuzzy, drifts through your mind as you sit and try to come to terms with how you feel at this moment. You absently trace the neat scrawl of Yejun’s handwriting covering the page. Don’t be afraid. Are you afraid? Is that it? You’ve never thought of it like that, in terms of being afraid to live. But, if you think about it, you suppose that’s the root of it. You are afraid. Afraid of moving on. What if you do find happiness? What if you do find someone else? Yejun is clear that he’s confident you’ll never forget him, but what if you do?

You don’t want to be sitting somewhere thirty years from now, with your head thrown back, laughing at the joke from some other guy, with Yejun having not crossed your mind in years. It’s not that you don’t want to be happy. You just…you don’t know.

Taehyung is sitting so quietly beside you that if you closed your eyes, you’d think you were alone. Guilt pricks against your heart at how badly you first reacted, the harsh tone and words you lashed at Taehyung where he didn’t deserve it. You clear your throat, drawing the flicker of Taehyung’s eyes in your direction.

“I’m sorry, Tae. I really am. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” The words are thick on your tongue as you work through the emotions threatening to obliterate your existence. You think you might cry, but give yourself an imaginary pat on the back when you manage to maintain eye contact with Taehyung while successfully blinking back the tears.

Taehyung is quiet for a moment, a muscle in his jaw working, flexing the dark stubble you can see shadowing along his jawline. It’s in this moment that you feel like you see Taehyung in a new light, with added clarity. He looks haggard, tired. You didn’t notice it before, the sunken circles around his eyes or the lack of a clean shave…until now. It’s not fair, you realize, that he has taken care of you so much the last two years when you haven’t even so much as bothered to check on how he is doing.

You’re just about to break the silence with another feeble apology when he smiles, it’s faint, but it’s there. “You don’t need to apologize to me. Yejun and I might have shared a different kind of bond than what you two had, but I have at least an inkling of the keen sting you’re feeling, the one that never quite goes away no matter what you do.” He brings a hand up and presses it to the center of his chest. “The one that slices a little deeper after the sun goes down and everyone else has gone about their lives.”

Chilled goosebumps pop up along your arms, despite the warmth from the added layer of Taehyung’s jacket. That is exactly what it feels like, a lingering sting that won’t go away, one that grows when you’re alone.

You lick your trembling lips, tearing your gaze away from his and focusing back on the letter clutched in your hand. “Yejun,” you whisper. “He—he wants…he wants me to move on.” A soft sob catches in your throat. “But, I can’t do that. How can I do that?”

Your shoulders heave as the emotions you were able to hold at bay before come crashing through the walls you managed to put up. It’s not like the weeping from earlier. That was simply the quiet cries of a mourning wife. This is bone-deep, soul-rending agony that shakes your entire body.

Taehyung pulls you into his arms, and you press your face into the cushioning of his scarf and scream. The sound is muffled, but you can still hear it echoing through the columbarium when all the air finally empties from your lungs. You try to replenish the air, sucking in stilted breaths, but it’s not enough. Panic ensues, your heart launching into a heavy, staccato rhythm as if trying to pound right out of your chest.

“Hey, hey,” Taehyung soothes. “Slow down. Try to breathe slowly.” He pulls you firmly into his lap. You’re heedless to the intimate position your body falls into with your knees on either side of his hips. All you care about is getting air into your lungs. Taehyung holds you by the face, angling yours so you look up into his worried eyes. “Come on, slow. In…out…like that, come on, another one. In and then out.” He breathes with you, exaggerating the way he inhales air through his nose and pushes it back out through his mouth.

His warm breath puffs across your face with each exhale, carrying with it the faintest sharp tinge of mint and the earthy tones of tea. Something that instantly makes you think of home. It helps bring you back to reality, slowing your rampaging heart, and subsiding your shuddering cries.

“I can’t do it,” you mumble.

“You can. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“No, no. You don’t—I can’t. It’s…it’s cold in here,” you whisper, pressing a trembling hand over your heart. “No one wants that.”

A soft, sad smile forms on Taehyung’s face as he continues to stare down at you. “Good thing that I know a thing or two about keeping things warm.” He drops his hands from your face and grabs the lapels of his jacket that’s still draped over your shoulders and gives it a tug, pulling it tighter around you. You can’t help but smile, even if it’s a watery one.

“What would I do without you?” you ask, not expecting Taehyung to answer.

“You’d make it.” He sounds so sure. “I know you would, you’d do it. But, I am glad to be here, to help however I can.”

Taehyung doesn’t urge you off of his lap, just allows you to rest there with your cheek pressed over his softly beating heart, finding whatever comfort you can from the proximity of another source of warmth. His words linger there, filling the space between you with a comfortability that you know you’ll never find anywhere else. You don’t say anything else, as there isn’t much else to say. At least, not words you think you could say out loud. Not here, not now.

But, an hour later, as you’re driving home, you decide to try. So, you do something you haven’t done in a while and turn on the radio, letting the music fill the silence from before. It’s a small step, but a step nonetheless; the first of—you hope—many.

The next morning, with the light of a new day spilling through the gap between your bedroom curtains, you decide you feel…good. As you lay in bed last night, full of revelations about how you’re going to start making steps toward Yejun’s desire for you to be happy again, worry began to set in. Worry over whether or not you can do this. Now, though, you feel decidedly different—light, in a way—as you push back the blankets and climb out of bed.

With your mom having taken Sujin to school this morning, it afforded you some time to sleep in, which is something you haven’t done in years. You weren’t sure you were going to, considering how poorly you’ve been sleeping the last couple of years. It feels nice, stretching your arms over your head and not feeling as groggy for once.

There is one thing you want to do before heading to the studio, where you know you’ll probably just piddle around until it’s time to pick up Sujin, but it’s just baby steps for now. It’s not lost on you that your work, the art you create, no matter if you manage to move on or not, might still be something that you’re never able to recover. Yejun wasn’t far off when he joked about being your one true muse, but you try to remain hopeful that you can surprise yourself.

The box in the back of the closet is exactly where you left it almost two years ago. It holds some of your most treasured possessions. Things you’ve held on to dating back as far as your teen years and as recent as two years ago. You kneel in the bottom of your closet and slide the box out from behind the stack of empty shoe boxes you can’t seem to toss out.

It’s a bit faded, the blue exterior, once a brilliant navy, is now more denim in color. You’ve had the box since you were a child, given to you by your father the summer before he split from your mom. That really hurt your family, when he cut himself out of the picture without so much as an apology; he ran off with another woman. It was so hard for you to believe in love after that.

Lifting the small silvered latch, you ease open the box lid and sigh as your eyes land on the folded paper nestled on top. Yejun’s first letter. It’s the last thing you put in this box. The paper still feels crisp in your fingers as you delicately pluck it out and unfold it. You worry at your bottom lip a moment before letting your eyes devour the same words you read once before.

This time, they don’t hurt nearly as much. You still feel that piercing ache, but it’s accompanied by another, fresher feeling—one of hope. What stands out the most, now, though, is the confirmation that there are other letters waiting for you. Yejun says as much himself in this letter, you just hadn’t ever put the dots together, too distracted in your grief.

There are endless possibilities for what those other letters might be for. But, what’s clear is that you won't get another one until you do something to deserve it. Knowing Yejun, you have a few ideas of what those things might be. There is a thrill but also a sense of trepidation as you think about that. You want to move on and be happy again, and in doing so, you know you’ll get the other letters, but there’s also that sense of overwhelming dread.

Where do you begin?

You spent most of your day rearranging and organizing supplies at the studio. But, now that the sun is beyond its zenith and casting longer shadows across your paint-marked studio floor, you feel like you’ve done nothing but waste time. You still haven’t decided where to begin with Yejun’s letters and you’re no closer to coming up with an idea for your next project either.

With frustration coloring your thoughts, you lock up and welcome the reprieve of going and picking Sujin up from school. That’s one part of your life that you do know up from down with.

As you pull through the pick up line, you don’t see Sujin anywhere out front. You spot Mrs. Min ushering a few students to their cars, her friendly face sporting a smile as she does so. Her eye catches yours and she holds up a hand, rushing over to your passenger side window.

“Hi!” she says when you roll it down. “So glad I caught you before you waited too long. Sujin volunteered to help Mr. Kim with his terrarium and it’s taking a bit longer than expected. He should be out in the next fifteen minutes or so, feel free to park in the teacher’s lot or you can wait here if you’d like.”

“Mrs. Min!” a rambunctious gaggle of students call her name, requesting her assistance.

She gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry, duty calls. He shouldn’t be too long!” she calls over her shoulder as she jogs towards the cluster of students beckoning her over. One of the kids has what appears to be a large diorama that they’re having a hard time carrying to their car, even with the assistance of their friends.

“Well, great,” you mumble to yourself, checking your rearview mirror and seeing a long line of cars waiting behind you.

Pulling ahead, you slip around the side of the school and pull into one of the empty teacher spots and cut the engine. You haven’t been inside the school since the parent-teacher meeting at the beginning of the year, so it wouldn’t hurt if you went inside now, it would give you a chance to peek into Sujin’s classrooms and see what he’s been up to. If it’s one thing he loves, it’s learning.

Mr. Kim and Mrs. Min have adjoining classrooms at the end of the hall for Sujin’s grade, a storage and supply closet connecting the two rooms. The door to Mrs. Min’s room is closed but the light is still on inside. You take a quick peek through the view window on the door and see colorful drawings and paper projects hanging on the wall, books scattered across a few tables, and a large container of art supplies opened on her desk. She teaches English, Reading, Art, and History while Namjoon covers Math and Science. 

The gym teacher, Mr. Jeon, startles you as he breezes through the double doors at the end of the hall that lead out to the playground. “Oh, hey! Sujin, your mom is here!” he calls, stepping back and propping the door open with the heel of his sneaker.

“Mom!” you hear Sujin’s voice sound from through the open door. “You gotta come see this!”

Mr. Jeon holds the door open for you, his face lit with a pleasant smile. “A future scientist, I’d bet,” Mr. Jeon stage-whispers as you pass him and that makes your own smile blossom further.

“What’s going on, buddy?” you ask, taking in the scene before you.

Namjoon is crouched down beside Sujin, helping him sort through a collection of rocks spread out on a sheet of plastic. There are dozens of them, all various shapes and colors.

Sujin excitedly points out a few of the large rocks. “These would be perfect to create a hiding space!” he loudly proclaims before turning his bright eyes up to you. “Mr. Kim is letting me help him choose the rocks to go into the terrarium. We’re going to get our very own class salamander! Isn’t that cool, Mom? A class dragon!”

A soft chuckle comes from Namjoon as he pivots on his heels and squints up at you, the sun catching on the thick-framed glasses that are slipping down his nose. “We had so much fun yesterday talking about the salamander that was brought into Mrs. Min’s class that I couldn’t resist. I’ve had this old aquarium sitting in my garage for years, it just seems perfect.”

“Wow, yeah, that’s really cool.”

“Sorry for keeping him,” Namjoon suddenly stands, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking contrite. “I didn’t realize the bell had rung until Jungkook said something.” He turns to Sujin who is happily stacking a few of the smaller rocks into a pile. “I think that’s all for today, Sujin. We’ll finish it up tomorrow during class.”

Sujin frowns, his warm brown eyes flicking to Namjoon. “Okay,” he sighs.

“I tell you what, for all your hard work today, how about I let you be creative director during assembly tomorrow? Does that sound okay?”

The frown is quickly replaced with another excited smile. Sujin gives a whoop of delight and slaps his hands together before dusting them off. “Thank you, Mr. Kim, that sounds amazing!”

Seeing the interaction between Namjoon and Sujin gives you an idea, one that you hope you won’t regret. “Go grab your backpack, buddy, I’ll meet you outside Mrs. Min’s room in a second.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Sujin pulls open the door and scampers through, his sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor as he skips down the hall.

“Thank you for that, Namjoon, really. He was so excited about what happened yesterday and now this? He’s been wanting a turtle for a year now, so this will be a good test on whether or not we should get one.”

Namjoon pulls one of his hands out of his pocket and grips the back of his neck as he smiles shyly, his cheeks pinking slightly. “He’s a great kid, loves to learn. Though, turtles are a bit more needy than salamanders. It would also depend on the type of turtle. The standard box turtles are…” Namjoon trails off, his brow pinching as he throws furtive glances your way. “Sorry, you didn’t ask for a science lesson.”

That makes you laugh, which seems to ease the awkward tension in Namjoon. “Sujin isn’t the only one that likes learning.” You don’t intend the words to sound flirty, but they come out that way and you can distinctly tell that Namjoon keys into that.

“Yeah?” he asks, the shyness leeching away by the second.

“Um, yeah. Er, well, I should—” you jerk your thumb over your shoulder toward the door “—Sujin is probably waiting.” 

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Namjoon sidesteps over the plastic sheet of rocks and fumbles with the door handle before yanking it open. “Have a good—”

“Are you free Friday night?” you blurt, wincing at the rudeness of interrupting him but knowing if you don’t ask now then you’ll lose your nerve.

“Friday?” he parrots back, eyes wide behind his glasses.

Panic slices through and you immediately want to take it back. “Sorry, that was—I didn’t, it’s not appropriate is it? I’m so sor—”

“I’m free,” he states, the words silencing your backpedaling.

“Oh.” Now that he’s confirmed, you’re not sure what else to say. It’s been so long since you’ve done this.

“Is there something you wanted to do?” Namjoon asks hesitantly, clearly picking up on your trepidation.

You swallow around the choking feeling in your throat, the one that’s ingrained with the idea that you’re still married and still madly in love with another man and this is akin to cheating. “Maybe dinner? Or a late coffee? Um, or…I’m sorry, it’s been so long since I’ve done this.”

Namjoon gives you an easy smile. “Dinner sounds great. Let’s say, seven?”

“Seven is good. How about that new pizza place that opened up near the park, do you know the one?”

“I’ve had my eye on that place for weeks! That sounds perfect.”

Are you really going on a date…with Sujin’s Science teacher? “Okay,” you say, chewing the inside of your cheek as you take a few steps down the hall. “Great.”

“Great,” Namjoon confirms with a smile, his deep dimples making an appearance. “See you then.”

All you can do is nod, not trusting yourself with any more words with the influx of emotions now swirling through you. Sujin bursts through Mrs. Min’s door, his backpack and lunchbox in tow.

“Let’s go!” he trumpets, thrusting his free hand into the air in a fist. “I’ve got some homework to do before I can work on my diagram for the terrarium!”

Namjoon’s soft chuckle carries to you from down the hall as you usher Sujin towards the exit. You can’t help casting one last glance behind you, taking in the way he’s lazily leaning against the doorframe of his classroom. He’s quite handsome, there’s no arguing that.

A giddy feeling adds itself to the uncertain emotions rolling through you. A fluttering in your tummy that you haven’t felt in over seven years. You can’t help but wonder, as you load Sujin into the car, if this is really what Yejun wants for you or are you making a mistake?

💔💔💔

Taehyung

It’s a weird sensation when you expect to feel one emotion but end up feeling another. That’s what Taehyung thinks anyway, as he reads the text message he received from you for the dozenth time. You have a date. With Namjoon.

Taehyung has never met the quirky Science teacher, but he’s heard plenty of stories about him from Sujin. Charming, educated, and completely and utterly perfect for you. And that should make Taehyung happy. Yet, all he can feel is mild annoyance when he thinks about Namjoon sitting across from you at a dinner table making you laugh and smile.

He wants to chalk it up to being overprotective in a brotherly sort of way, but Taehyung knows better. It’s no secret—well maybe it is to you—that Taehyung cares for you deeply. Even before Yejun, Taehyung always had a soft spot for his best friend’s wife. Something that he drunkenly confessed to Yejun once a few years ago. Yejun took it goodnaturedly, something that Taehyung still thinks about to this day, and simply told Taehyung he understood the attraction because hell, who could blame him?

They never talked about it again, until the day Yejun asked Taehyung to take care of you and Sujin—the day he was given a box of letters addressed to you. Yejun had given Taehyung a knowing smile and said something along the lines of fate knowing and that’s why Taehyung already had so much love for you.

He wasn’t sure, at first, if Yejun had ever shared Taehyung’s little secret with you. But, as time went on, it was clear that he hadn’t. That, or, so lost in your grief, you’ve been keenly uninterested in that prospect. But, now, you’re going on a date and Taehyung doesn’t know how to feel about it.

The twinge of jealousy in his chest doesn’t sit right with him. He has no right to feel this way. It’s just something that he can’t seem to shake, hasn’t been able to since you told him about it two days ago. So, instead of expressing that, he forces himself to try and share in your joy.

That’s great. Let me know when you’re home, I have something for you.

A letter perhaps??

Your eager reply makes him smile despite himself. If anything, that helps his mood to improve. The ‘first date’ letter is already sitting on his counter, waiting.

Perhaps. Now stop texting me and go have fun.

There is no reply to that. So, Taehyung waits patiently, phone in hand. Hours pass in a mindless, sluggish way. He’s far too wound up to do anything productive but also has nervous energy that needs to be released. So, Taehyung spends the four hours it takes for you to finally respond by squeaking out haphazard notes on the alto saxophone he’s taken to trying to learn to play.

His phone lights up where it sits on the coffee table and he nearly drops the instrument in his haste to snatch up the device.

I’m home.

That’s all it says and it makes Taehyung frown. Not that he expected you to tell him how the date went over text message, but he was anticipating something more than just those two words. He is startled to realize just how late it is, though, being past eleven already.

Is it too late? I can always just swing by tomorrow.

Sujin is staying with mom. It’s not too late.

Taehyung is contemplating his reply when another text from you pops up that makes him drop everything else and grab his car keys, not caring it’ll be close to midnight by the time he pulls up outside your apartment. It was a knee-jerk reaction to also grab the letter that was sitting beside his keys, but now he’s thinking about whether or not it’s a good idea.

Those thoughts quickly fade as he focuses on the road, intent on reaching your apartment in record time. His phone sits on the passenger seat, still open to your text thread, the single word might as well be an alarm blaring to Taehyung, urging him on faster.

Please.

💔💔💔

As soon as you send the last text message you want to take it back. Not only do you feel whiny, but you know Taehyung will drop everything and come over which makes you feel terrible and like you’re using him.

But, fuck. The date was so horrible all you want to do is crawl into familiar, comforting arms and cry yourself to sleep. You’re about to pour your third glass of wine when there is a sudden knock on the door, followed by it swinging open. Taehyung stands there with your spare key in his hand, eyes wide with concern.

“Are you okay?” he asks, breathless as he clearly sprinted up the stairs to get here and now you feel infinitely worse for it.

You shake your head which earns you a pained sound from Taehyung but you hold up your hand, silencing him. “I’m not shaking my head no as in no I’m not fine, it’s more a I’m such a fool head shake. I’m sorry, Tae. I’m fine. I shouldn’t have said anything, I just—”

“I’m glad you said something. What happened? Do I need to go pay a certain science teacher a visit?” For all his bravado, you know he wouldn’t hesitate if you said yes.

“No, no. It’s not his fault. Well, not entirely. Look, I’m sorry you drove all the way over here.” You discard the empty wine glass in favor of taking a large glug directly from the bottle.

“Hey, hey,” Taehyung says, deftly taking the bottle from your hands before you have the chance to take a second gulp from it. “Stop apologizing and tell me what’s wrong.”

“It was a fucking disaster.”

If Taehyung is surprised by your cussing, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he stills beside you, brow slowly pinching and forming deep furrows between them. “Did he hurt you?” he whispers, but his tone is cold and hard. “I’ll kill him.”

“What? What, oh no, Tae, no. He didn’t hurt me, god no.” You sigh, propping your hip against the lip of the counter and wrapping your arms around your middle. “He was lovely, actually. I was the disaster. Or maybe we were. I don’t know, it was just a terrible night. A terrible idea.”

“Talk to me about it,” Taehyung encourages, his hands landing lightly on your shoulders to steer you toward the couch in the living room.

So, you spend the next hour recounting all the horrid details for him. Everything from the way Namjoon wouldn’t stop talking about rocks and mineralized dirt to the way he tried to kiss you at the end of the night only for you to duck and him to lose his balance, effectively making him face plant into the brick wall of your apartment building.

“See, it was a terrible idea,” you lament, letting out a frustrated sigh.

Taehyung hums softly. “It doesn’t sound like a complete disaster to me. Namjoon was polite, even if he did nothing but talk about his own interests. Did you try changing the subject, or did he ask about you and you gave a dismissive answer?” You give Taehyung an annoyed look. “I’m just saying, you have the tendency to avoid things like that. So, it’s only meant as a means to try and understand. Maybe it can be better next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.” You throw up your hands in defeat. “He said he had a lovely time, but I could see it plain on his face, he was just trying to be nice. He left with a bloody napkin pressed against his mouth for crying out loud!”

“Well, maybe he really—”

“But, most of all,” you continue, speaking over Taehyung, “I didn’t have a good time. I don’t want to do it again. It didn’t make me happy.”

That seems to subdue Taehyung. “Oh,” he says, nodding slowly. “Well, okay, that’s different.”

“I’m broken, defective.”

Taehyung scoffs, giving you a withering look a moment before dragging you into his arms, squeezing you tightly. “You’re not defective. You’re human. All this proves is that maybe the science teacher isn’t the guy for you. Simply just a lack of…chemistry.”

You can’t help but laugh at his bad joke. “You’re terrible,” you say in a lighter tone, meant to tease more than chastise. “But, you’re right, I guess. I just…this was the first date I’ve been on in a long time and it all went so horribly. It’s hard not to think that I somehow messed up, that I’m just…not right, just broken, y’know?” Taehyung’s eyes are soft as you look up at him, trying hard not to let yourself grow too accustomed to the comforting feel of his arms around your shoulders.

“You are perfect, most certainly not broken,” he whispers. You watch from beneath your lashes as a small crease etches across his forehead and you can tell he’s warring with himself over something before he slowly presses a soft kiss against the side of your head. “You just have to give yourself grace. I’m proud of you.” As he says that last part, he gently pulls back, hands resting on your shoulders. His right hand trails down your arm and you feel the soft caress of paper against the back of your hand. “Yejun would be proud of you, too, taking as big of a step as you have, I just know it.”

The envelope is small, but you instantly recognize the shape and feel of the paper. It’s just like the one you got earlier this week—like the one from two years ago. “Should I wait to read it?” you ask, not really expecting an answer.

“I’ll leave if you’d like some privacy.”

And in that moment you realize that’s the last thing you want. “No, please stay. Umm, that is, unless you have something to do.” It’s after midnight, the sour twist of jealousy rears as you think of everything that could possibly take Taehyung away at this hour. You tamp it down, knowing you have no right to keep him here, regardless. “I’m okay, I promise.”

Taehyung’s lip twitches as you wait for him to answer. He shakes his head. “No, I have nothing else to do. I can’t promise I won’t end up crashing on your couch, though,” he says, stifling a yawn in his elbow before lacing his fingers behind his head and stretching out. “I’m here as long as you need me.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch and spreading it out over Taehyung’s legs before curling up on the opposite end of the couch. Taehyung shifts around the blanket with his feet, making sure the other end covers your legs as well.

“Don’t have to thank me,” he sighs sleepily. “I just want to make you happy.”

You’re not sure if he misspoke, because surely he meant only that he wants to see you happy. Because, as it is, him saying he wants to make you happy…well, that does something funny to you. Though, you can probably blame that on the terrible date with Namjoon or the half a bottle of wine you drank. Either way, you can’t help but smile as you look at Taehyung laying on the other end of your couch, eyes closed, and chest rising and falling with deep, even breathing.

You take a moment, running back over the date with Namjoon in your head, fingers idly moving along the edge of the envelope. It started out so nicely, Namjoon standing outside your apartment with a bouquet of flowers. They made your nose itch and your eyes water a bit from how overly fragrant they were—clearly some mass grown clippings from a supermarket—but you smiled anyway, appreciating the gesture.

Dinner was lovely, the new restaurant proving to be worth the drive and money spent. It’s perhaps your own fault for thinking Namjoon might pay for the meal and it didn’t hurt you any to pay for your own, but it felt oddly…impersonal? Less like a date and more like a business meeting or something. You’re not too old to be naive in the sense that women are just as capable of paying for dinner as men, as well as the fact that men shouldn’t hold the complete burden of expense on dates. It’s just…it was unusual and he didn’t even bring it up, simply told the waiter to split the check before it was brought.

It’s not helped by the fact that Namjoon wouldn’t stop talking about work or soil deposits. And perhaps Taehyung was at least half right in the fact that you didn’t put forth a lot of effort to change the subject, but the way you see it, if Namjoon was interested in knowing about you, he would have asked. Though, is that expecting too much? Are you being too harsh? Maybe you’re projecting and Namjoon really wasn’t that bad.

Before you can continue to spiral any further, you force your thoughts to the letter in your hand. Hoping it’ll put your ill heart at ease, you extract the folded parchment and smooth it out.

To the love of my life,             For after your first date Hi, baby. First, I want to say that I love you. Second, I hope he at least made you smile. If he didn’t bring you flowers or even those cheap ones from the supermarket, don’t think too much of it. I’ll let you in on a little guy secret, not all of us are well versed on flora and even less so on women. Even if it didn’t go so well, though I hope it did, you can’t give up. Go on another date, with the same person or someone else, you just can’t stop now. Take as many adventures as you can, do something spontaneous. You never did take that dance class you wanted to a few years ago. Paint, travel, explore the world. Take Sujin to places we never got to go. Just don’t stop, keep turning, even if it’s slowly. I’m so proud of you, you know? No matter what, I know you’re going to be okay. You’re going to make it. I can’t wait to see all you do. You’re going to be wonderful. You’re amazing, keep shining, baby. I love you so much. Forever With You, Your Yejun

Tucking the letter against your heart, you snuggle down in the couch, mind racing. You feel lighter somehow, like Yejun’s words have given you far more affirmation than you thought possible. The terrible date doesn’t seem so disastrous now.

“You okay?”

You startle at the soft question, thinking Taehyung was fast asleep. His eyes are barely cracked open, peering at you over his bent, blanket-covered knees.

“Mm, yeah. I think so,” you say after clearing your throat.

“Good…good,” Taehyung murmurs, his eyes falling shut once more.

“Hey, Tae?”

“Hmm?” His eyebrows raise but he doesn’t open his eyes. You take a moment to truly see him, the soft light from the stand lamp on the other side of the room illuminating him in profile. The soft curve of his cheek, the delicate slope of his nose, and the pouty bow of his lips aren’t new features, but you’re not sure you’ve ever truly paid attention to how breathtakingly handsome he is.

“Will you help me?”

Taehyung’s lips twitch as a mild frown turns down his lips. “Help you?”

“With whatever comes next.”

“Whatever you need, I’m yours,” he mumbles, a soft smile replacing his frown. You watch him for a moment longer, his lips going even softer as the smile fades with sleep. His chest rises and falls, your eyes tracking the motion in the dim lighting until you feel the pull of sleep yourself. Taehyung is the last thing you see before you close your eyes, and for the first time in over two years, you sleep peacefully; with a subtle warmth blooming in your chest where once there was only cold.

Next Chapter⇾ (coming soon!) ◅ Back to story masterlist  

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2024-03-18 ColorMePurplex2

[witch-hazels-musings]

Dear Hazel,

As always, I hope you are in best health. I want to congratulate you sincerely for your finished book! I am sure it will be a wonderful read and that you will continue to shine so brightly!

As I am writing to you, I would like to purchase a few items from your pharmacy.

Right now, I am happy to say that I’ve been helping out Mister Zhongli from Liyue in preparing for a rite. Yes, after my first letter to you and your warm and wonderful words, I had the courage to approach him. And I must say thank you, as I am grateful that we closed the remaining distance between us (I dare say we fancy each other very much)!

As for my purchase... The family of the deceased wanted to make a request for peaceful and warming objects that are sure to protect them in the afterlife.

They requested the scent of cinnamon as the favourite scent of the deceased. I do believe that yellow candles will be appropriate, together with black tourmaline and angelite. They should have a calming and welcoming effect.

I’m really happy to receive such an important task. Mister Zhongli always works so hard for these rites that I would like to take a few burdens off his shoulders.

I do hope everything works out for you perfectly as well! Remember to take breaks and enjoy them with Mister Ragnvindr!

With great respect

SunnyBeeDream

Yellow Candle (success, creativity), Ginsing (Communication, Guidance), Black Tourmaline (safety, shielding), Lavender (comfort, calm) Zhongli x gn reader | Divination Ritual warning: reader works at the funeral parlor, emotions: loss, sadness, grief (hints at a young person who has passed away, non-specific reasons why), reader cries

The family laid their heads on the ornate mats. Their hands clutched their chest, hid their faces, or lifted toward the alter before them. The air was thick with sorrow, heavy and clouded by the pillars of incense floating up and out the partially opened windows. A woman sobbed quietly in the arms of another while you hung your head in deep respect.

The ceremony ended, but you felt it linger on your clothes. The weight of a sudden loss took hold of your wrist as you quietly collected the heirlooms, memorabilia, and items of the deceased. A well-cared-for picture of the dead caught the soft candlelight.

You were usually so composed at this part. Detaching yourself from the suffering of others' pain, putting up a barrier to shield the ache that came with an unfillable hole in one's heart. But today, as you looked at the bright eyes in the picture frame, you couldn't stop the overflowing wave of emotion from capturing you.

Bowing your head, woeful tears ran down your cheeks as you held the picture to your chest. The words from their family reverberated in your mind. Stories and memories once painted gold were stained in darkness, muddled. Now tainted by grief. You wished it could be different. That death didn't come for us.

But it does.

It always does.

"Ah, so you are still here," Zhongli's voice filled the still room, and you turned to it with shimmering cheeks. He glided across the floor and stopped at your side, his gaze soft, kind, gentle. His eyes dropped to the picture frame. "I have been neglectful," he said, brushing his finger across your jaw to catch a falling tear.

You shook your head. "I'm fine," you lied.

"If you were, it would cause quite the concern. It is reasonable to hold a reaction to a parting such as this."

"It's not professional."

"And who has given you that impression?"

You lifted your eyes in a pitiful effort to keep the tears corraled; it didn't work. "I hate this. I don't want to feel like this. When will it get easier?"

"I've lived many years and have been witness to the results of walling oneself away from pain and have seen, firsthand, the hollowness that results from its construction. " Zhongli touched the side of your chin and pushed it so you would look at him. "It is far more desirable for you to be as you are than wish for something you are not."

"But it hurts."

"It is human to hurt."

"Well that sucks," you said bitterly with a slight chuckle.

"It is good you feel strongly, that you would shed tears for one you do not know. It is not a weakness, nor a fault to hold places in your heart for others. As beings in this stream, we are bound in threads. While some may ignore their pull, there are those who accept them willingly, openly. Those like you," he said and lifted your chin to look at him. "So do not fault yourself for the bonds you bear, no matter how short-lived they may be."

Zhongli fed his fingers behind the picture against your chest. With ease, he placed it back on the altar and it caught the light from the setting sun.

"Everything comes from nothing," he said serenely as he settled incense in its holder. A puff of flame set it alight until a stream of white smoke rose toward the heavens.

You sniffled, nose tingling, and stared at the images of the person no longer here. "And to it shall we return."

You covered your eyes with one hand and held onto Zhongli's arm with the other while you cried, and welcomed in the pain and heartache of loving someone you never even met.

Thaumaturgy Anthology (October 11-13, 2024)

This event is based on spells and rituals. Inspiration does not equal understanding; liberties have been taken. All content is owned by Witch Hazels Musings, theft of these images and stories will result in immediate action.

[bonefall]

Snowbird Ann here: x_x I have Fennel growing in my front yard. That stuff...it tastes like black licorice and it's stringy like celery. But when it goes dormant, it leaves stalks that would be great building materials. Med cat/builders could get a fresh stalk, soak it in water to make it bendy and shape it into whatever. If I remember I'll go out and snap a picture of the dormant Fennel tomorrow.

Fennel is actually suuuuuuuuper useful for dozens of reasons. It's related to parsley and has been naturalized all over the world because humans find it so useful.

The cats could use it for:

-Funerals This herb can be STINKY. This could absolutely be one of the funeral herbs that elders rub onto the deceased, especially since it's non-toxic.

-Cooking It's full of fiber meaning it can be a good supplement even for cats, if not consumed in excess. It's also got potassium, manganese, calcium... They can't taste sweet but that licorice-y flavor would come across just fine. It's actually used in sausages a lot.

-Alcohol If your Warriors drink responsibly. And know how to distill. Mead made from honey would still be easier but fennel was used for health tonics in the middle ages... and then eventually got used to make absinthe.

-Insect repellent This one's actually huge because the OTHER big bad bug buster is mint... and all mint is toxic to cats. This is a really good non-toxic insect repellent for warriors next to lavender.

-"Toothpaste" Not like, a PASTE but, a sort of... sticky mouthwash poultice. Fennel's actually super good for oral health, eliminates bad breath, and fights plaque buildup; and remember, Our Friends Mint & Co is toxic to cats. You can make it into an oil and help a warrior with a gum problem. It's especially good at fighting streptococcus, which is one of the most common infectious bacteria in wild cats.

-General medicinal purposes Helping clean eye infections is just one medicinal use, fennel is useful for all sorts of ailments. It's anti-inflammatory, it's antibacterial (but not as good as honey), can help with digestion...

Historically it's also been associated with helping to treat colic in babies and estrogen-related issues like menopause and milk production, which is actually NOT proven with modern studies... but I think the idea is just cool enough to hand wave the science away, I would use it just to have an herb for colicky kits. It's weird that colic has never shown up in canonical kits before!

But...

Building use?

Probably not. You've noticed it's stringy-- that's actually where fennel gets its name. Fennel = Foenum = Latin for Hay. It's more like hay in consistency than twine and would be too soft to build with.

For strong material, you're just gonna want plain old wood. Twigs, branches, anywhere you can find fennel you're also going to find bushes or trees that'll make better beams.

For twine? Skip the fennel entirely with its short stalks and just get some tall grass. Or, if you've got long-haired cats, they can make yarn out of shed fur if they collect enough of it. Better yet, if you've got access to flax? Then you're REALLY cooking with fire, that bad boy can be made into fabric, rope, clothing... Don't even get me STARTED on industrial hemp, you could weave reality itself out of that popstar. Paper, clothes, canvas, shampoo, lamp oil, rope, bombs, you want it? It's YOURS my friend--

Anyway

TL;DR stick to the herbal uses for fennel. You're better letting dormant fennel re-grow because it's better in the paws of your medcats than your warriors.

[bohemian-nights]

Why everyone acting like Nyra is some Feminist icon or something when she literally did nothing but cry and being railed by 3 different men?

Now now Anon let’s not shame Nyra for being sexually librated. I mean it takes guys to go chasing around and begging your uncle to f*ck/marry you (for the second time after he abandoned you at your lavender wedding and before that in a brothel) at his wife’s funeral in her ancestral home.

We can only dream of our faves ever reaching 1/10 of the girl power she does 🙌🏽 All she does is slay 🤗

Lol, she’s white and blonde, rides the fantasy equivalent of a nuke, has the name Targaryen, and is boring as hell so easy to project onto(yes even for the non-white stans). That’s really all it takes for these people to stan 🤷🏽‍♀️

[dapotatoauthor]

You’re Here, Yet You’re Not [Oneshot]

Character: APH Canada x Reader Genre: Angst P.O.V: 2nd POV

The air and quiet sobs filled the silence.

Red maple leaves, black attires,

And a casket in the middle of the church.

Staring at nowhere, you couldn’t think of anything.

You felt numb, there were no thoughts, no emotions, no anything. 

“Hey, you good?” Alfred nudges your shoulder with his. You tilted your head a little and hummed. “I should be asking you that,” your voice was meek and quiet, very unlike you. You gaze at Alfred. It was clear he's worn. His eyes were dwindling in color, paired with the bags under them and the hint of red on his eyes and nose. You weren’t any better either. Not that it mattered. The make-up concealed everything anyway.

All of a sudden, a loud gasp and sob broke through the air. You and Alfred immediately turned your head to see Arthur, barely hanging on to the podium. Several people went over to his side, including Francis. “My boy, my poor boy-!” He cried. You heard Alfred choked up from Arthur’s outburst and held his head down. You placed a comforting hand on his back as he covered his face with his hands and tried to stop himself from crying again. You can feel his unsteady breathing and the shaking of his body. You wrapped your arm around his slouched figure. 

But despite all the emotional display, you still couldn’t feel anything.

His casket was brought to the cemetery where he will have his final rest.

His family members and loved ones were all there surrounding him.

As they began to lower him, his family screamed for him. 

To return back to them.

Arthur fell on his knees where his husband and his other son held him. But you.

You stood there next to them. 

A white rose in hand, an indifferent expression still plastered on your face.

Even when his family cried for him.

Even when his body finally reached the bottom. 

Even when you threw the rose in the grave.

Even when they started burying him.

Your face remained the same.

The ride home was…different. As you get out of the car, you thank Francis for the ride and begin to go inside your house. Halfway into the pavement, you hear Francis call out for you.

“Ma cherie, call us if you need any’ing, non? We’re here for you.”

You stare at him for a moment before nodding your head, then finally going inside. You hear the car leave as you close your door. You turn and lean back and stare at your living room. With a heavy sigh, you push yourself off the door and make your way into your room. 

When you open the lavender door to your room, you were greeted with,

Darkness.

You close the door and get ready to take a bath. You let your clothes hit the floor, not bothering to pick it up and open the shower. The cold water was hitting your head then the tiled floor. Your consciousness tried to bring up what happened. 

The funeral, the car ride, him.

But for some reason, you don’t. 

You can’t.

You turned off the shower and got out. You reach for your towel and wrap it around your body. You then went off to your closet in search of some clothes. While rummaging through your wardrobe, your hand grasps a familiar texture. You pulled the garment towards you.

A red hoodie with a maple leaf decorating its front.

You stared at it for a moment. 

Then you begin to shake. 

You grip the red hoodie close to you.

And cried.

[ruidusborne]

@ramblingsofamoonwatcher:

A grave white hand lifts high to rest on the crown of her hair. An inky black mass as vast as the starless sky. She forgot she had hair, unrealized of how long and unkempt it had become. It reaches to her hips in tattered tendrils, uneven swooping curls as swallows diving to the silky stream. It pulls flat with the same heavy weight as a funeral shroud.

"My hair?" She clarifies, more for herself than the other. Entangled in brambles were her thoughts, in fact almost non existent before Imogen spoke to her. Humanity claws its way back to the forefront of her undead mind, relearning how to speak. Remembering that one should look another in the eye.

Thus her dead-eyed gaze lifts to set verdant upon lavender. "That would be nice... If you'd like you may cut it too. I did not realize just how long it got. Where do you want me to sit?"

“Well, now, I don’t know that you’d want me to cut your hair,” she laughs, a small smile manifesting at the corners of her mouth. “I’d hate to butcher it. I’m good for braidin’ but sheerin’? I’d probably make you bald with my luck,” Imogen admits with another bout of amusement. “You’ve got lovely hair, honest! Reminds me of someone I know.”

The fondness is evident in her voice which tends towards warmth as she conjures Lau/dna in likeness but not name. With Hithril’s blessing, Imogen reaches out to touch her hair. It’s softer than she expects. She runs her fingers through it once and then begins to gather sections to braid—only to pause.

“Oh, right, sittin’ probably would help, wouldn’t it?” she purses her lips thoughtfully, letting Hithril’s hair slip from her grasp. “There’s a stump over there, I think,” Imogen indicates where she means. “You like any type of braids in particular?”

[the-hard-deck]

WIP Game!

Tagged by @icemankazansky and @boasamishipper

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Okay, so the first thing is. I don't actually name my fics. It's the last thing I do with them, and every time I stare at the Ao3 box, sweat dripping off my forehead, trying to think of the best, cleverest title. It rarely appears, so they get named with vague, one-word "oh that could apply" titles. Or they get song lyrics. Whichever.

That out of the way, here are the descriptions of my WIPS:

-icemav thing starting w slider bj -tentacles -macheresin fisting fic -coyote/hangman tg meeting -icemav 5-time funeral thing -slider/ice mutual masturbation -ice/sarah kerner lavender marriage -ice/danny kaffee hookup thing -yet another icemav get together

So if any of these intrigue you, send some asks my way about 'em Not tagging anyone, but if you see this and want to do it, go ahead!

[fashionthroughtimewithlucy]

The Mourning Period.

Queen Victoria I married her husband, Albert in 1840, he sadly passed away in 1861 when Queen Victoria was only forty-two years of age and lived the rest of her life publicly mourning her loss.

Queen Victoria centred her mourning traditions on women. Although there were certain expectations for men, such as wearing a black band on their arm or hat, these small gestures paled in comparison to the expected duties of women in mourning. For women, the mourning period was broken into two parts: full mourning and half mourning.

Mourning Periods.

There were generally three stages of mourning dress: deep mourning, ordinary or second mourning, and half-mourning.

Deep Mourning- First period of mourning

The length of time spent mourning a deceased family member depended on how they were related. When a husband died, this was the longest time a woman spent in mourning. Full mourning also known as deep mourning, required strict social isolation. Widows could not accept formal invitations except from close relatives and were expected to avoid pleasurable occasions and public places except for church and this period lasted one year and one day. One of the most obvious ways that women displayed mourning was through their clothing, society expected all classes of women to wear only black clothing during this time to symbolize their grief and spiritual darkness. For upper class women, dresses were made of non-reflective silk or crepe and jet jewellery or pearls could be worn in modest amounts, also both upper-class and middle class widows hid their faces behind black bonnets and heavy crepe veils.  However, for working class women they would often dyed a few existing garments black, the did not wear covering on their faces as they could not afford an entirely new outfit otherwise had to continue with their lives in order to make ends meet.

Half Mourning- Second Period.

As widows entered there six months of half mourning they could wear black clothing trimmed in grey, lavender, mauve, or white which would symbolises the return of the mourner to a more active life. This was done in a way of diluting the black and with the sorrow, showing how the wearer is moving on, yet still mourning. In addition, jewellery was now allowed to contain gold and other precious gemstones although still alongside jet or other stones used in deep mourning.

The “ordinary period of mourning”- Third Period.

In the third stage of mourning, widows were then allowed to wear more embroidery and lace,  crape was now omitted. We can see how black in general is gradually faded out, reflecting the recovery from the mourning process and the internal healing process accompanied by the gradual return into society, however, many widows never wore colour again in their lives. 

Superstitions.

-Do not attend a funeral pregnant.

-Mirrors must be covered, they believed that the deceased spirit stayed trapped in the mirrors.

-If the deceased was a good person, flowers will flower in the tomb, but if they had been a bad person only weeds will grow.

- Stopped the clock in the bedroom of which the deceased had died in, if not it could bring bad luck.

-Do not use anything new at the funeral, in particular, shoes.

-If it rains on the deceased's body, he or she will go to heaven.

[lalinmani]

Norse god Baldr

Baldr

Beloved son of Odin and Frigg, husband to the goddess Nanna, and father to the god Foresti, Baldr. Referred to as the bright and shining god, who is most gracious, and beautiful. His abode is the fairest of dwellings and is named Breiðablik. Baldr is mostly known for his association with mistletoe, and it’s part in his death, that is told in the Eddas. Could there possibly be more to Baldr, than what we know from the Eddas? Was it even truly mistletoe that was used to kill, the beloved god? To find the answer to these questions, one must look to the lore, and the different attestations of this gracious and beautiful god.

Prose Edda • Gylfaginning: In this poem we learn that Baldr is the second son of Odin. All good things are said of him, and he’s so fair in appearance, that light shines from him. It’s then Snorri tells of a certain plant called “Baldr’s Brow” and how it’s flower portrays Baldr’s appearance. Again we see references to the dwelling Breiðablik, and Snorri states how it’s the most gleaming of abodes. Then Snorri tells how the gods throw all sorts of objects at Baldr, but non harm him. The poem then goes into telling how both Baldr and Frigg begin having dreams of Baldr’s death. Frigg sets out to have every object on earth vow to never bring harm unto her son. All things except mistletoe swear to not being harm to the gracious god. When Loki learns that mistletoe did not swear the oath, he uses it to craft a arrow, and then gives it to Hoth ( Hödr), and it’s then under the guidance of Loki, that Hoth shoots Baldr with the arrow, and Baldr falls. This causes all the gods to mourn. When it comes time for Baldr’s funeral he is placed upon his ship Hringhorni, and as he was being carried to his ship, Odin whispers something into his son ear. With the ship burning the goddess Nanna throws herself upon the ship. It is the giantess Hyrrokkin who pushes the ship out to sea. • Skáldskaparmá: here we learn of various ways to refer to Baldr such as; Son of Odin and Frigg, Husband of Nanna, Father of Foresti, Possessor of Hringhorni and Draupnir, Adversary of Hödr, Companion of Hel, God of Tears.

Gesta Danorum In this work by the Danish historian Saxo Grammaticus, a different version of Baldr is recounted. Here Baldr is called Balderus, and his portrayed more of like a demi-god. Balderus along with Høtherus both desire to wed the daughter of King Gewar, whom is named Nanna. During a battle the two suitors come to fight each other, Balderus is wounded and thus flees. Høtherus marries Nanna , we see the two men fight again this time Høtherus loses, but when a third fight ensues Balderus is fatally wounded by Høtherus sword called miming. It take three painful days for Balderus to succumb to his injuries.

Offerings

honey, mead, roses or sunflowers, acts of generosity & kindness

Herbs: lavender, jasmine, dandelion, yarrow

Crystals: sunstone, rose quartz, howlite, citrine

Runes: Kenaz, Wunjo, Sowilo

Ogham: Nion, Negeatal, Beith, Duir

norse_gods

Art Source: Johan Egerkrans

Posted by Mani

[chloefashionthroughtime]

Mourning period in the Victorian era

 The Victorian Era introduced some of our current funeral traditions such as the dark clothing wore in funerals. It started with Queen Victoria as she is notably known for her deep love for her husband, Prince Albert, and her 40 years of mourning following his death in 1861. In response to her husband’s death, Queen Victoria went into mourning, and her very public practices influenced many nations, creating a shift in funeral customs and how grief and mourning were expressed. Following Albert’s death, Victoria dressed in full mourning up til her death. Her example led to the population copying her style of dress, and certain expectations were set in place. Mourning clothes were considered an outward expression of a person’s inner feelings. Societal rules were especially specific for women. In “deep mourning,” women’s clothing was deep black and non-reflective, often trimmed in black crepe, and worn with minimal or no jewelry. Additionally, widows were expected to wear a black silk “weeping veil” or “widow’s cap.” After a specified time, a woman moved into “half mourning” where colours like grey and lavender were permitted with minimal ornamentation. For men, fashion was much easier – they simply wore dark suits with black gloves, hatbands, and cravats. Children were not expected to wear mourning clothes, and for those who were wealthy, servants even wore mourning clothes.

During this time, people were spiritual and believed in the supernatural. Because of this viewpoint, there were a number of superstitions surrounding death:

Victorians carried the deceased out of the home feet first so they couldn’t look back and call someone else to follow them.

Curtains were closed and mirrors covered until after the funeral so that the deceased’s image wouldn’t get trapped in a looking glass.

It was thought that you might be next if you saw yourself in a mirror at a house where someone had recently died.

To prevent bad luck, all clocks were stopped at the time of death.

And somewhat creepily, Victorians turned family photographs face-down to protect family and friends from possession by a spirit of the dead.

The Victorians had no illusions about death. Mortality rates for children were high, and even if you survived childhood, many adults didn’t live past 50 years. In this era, death was so certain and people prized an elaborate funeral service. Because of this, many families saved for years to pay for a funeral service. In fact, women frequently made their own shrouds and included them in their wedding trousseau.

[suguru-getos]

genshin men x love at first sight

characters included: ayato, zhongli, childe, itto, xiao. <3

ayato: man? he is so mesmerised!! how the hell can someone as stunning as you even real? he always is looking out for the finer things in life, he is spoiled enough so he thinks he deserves it <3 he is the head of the clan am i right? :V so when he crosses paths with you on one of his journeys outside inazuma, he is stunned. stopping between his path and walking towards you, “excuse me, i don’t mean to be creepy, or won’t even be the slightest of daring and audacious… but what is your name?” the sincerity in his voice is so genuine that it feels natural. “y/n” you mumble. ayato swears his heart can’t take it, the way your voice echoed over and over in his head, damn!

zhongli: he first saw you when he was out as wangshang funeral parlor’s consultant. somebody had died in your household, what a grim vibe and atmosphere. he almost feels guilty for not being able to take his eyes off you. how you look devastated only makes him imagine over and over how gorgeous would your smile look. would you get dimples? do you smile with your eyes? he can’t keep that sight out of his mind. zhongli had a reputation throughout liyue, for the first time he was thankful for it, the opportunity to have a one-on-one with you. it could be something meagre, like his condolences of course! “greetings, i am here to offer my sincerest condolences for your loss, it must be truly painful,” he softly spoke, kissing your knuckles like a gentleman. “i know how it feels to lose your kin, your dear ones…” he continued, and somehow you could find the tranquility in his voice that you just needed<3

childe: you were at the northland bank for some transactions, and childe swears he hasn’t ever seen you before. how dare you miss his eyes? he looked at you and for a moment, malfunctioned 💀✨ you could swear he was speechless, absolutely stunned. “h-hey girlie,” he blushed, grinning at you with a chaotic, tooth rotting sweetness of a smile. “hello, childe,” you spoke. he was famous in liyue, for good and bad reasons. it was normal for you to know him hence, but boy! oh boy?!!?! childe never expected that :3 “you know my name?” he raised a brow, widening eyes and clearing throat to gain composure, “uh…” he smirked, turning on his charm switch and leaned closer, “it’s only fair i know yours,” the rest is history 🥰 ok? ok.

itto: he saw you when he was running from the kanjou commission, (his story quest get the gist pls) -,- he wanted to find beetles to fight with, but he laid his eyes on you. you were there, picking lavender melons. for the first time he felt an emotion that was… weird! his heart started racing, cheeks dusted red, “oh my god oh my god oh my god-” he looked at you like an excited kid, “GOD DAMN!” he groaned, watching you intently, completely forgetting about the onikabuto battle ok? and that’s saying something 😤 “tell ya what these bigger ones are actually the worse, they taste like shiiit~” he interrupted you, grinning and giddy. let’s just say you got a great friend that day, and an even greater boyfie xoxo

xiao: the yaksha basically rescued you from a group of samachurls. “worthless,” you hear him utter with absolute rage, absolute ruthlessness and the unflinching determination to slay. you noticed it took him mere seconds to finish them off. then he finally saw you, normally he doesn’t even remember the face of every civilian or a non-adventurer traveller that he saves. but to you? he comes closer and asks, “are you hurt?” you had a few scratches, nothing too serious. but boy were you traumatized. you shivered, shaking head no and quivering lips. it was then the alatus spoke, “i will protect you, always. don’t fear these monsters, just say my name and i’ll be there. my name is xiao,”

[thepixelelf]

SEVENTEEN masterlist

Favourites: ❤

All works are gender neutral unless specified

Multi

and the universe said,

ot13 When soulmates are suddenly thrust upon the world, you are one in a million who wishes they weren’t – and that’s before you meet the person (people?!) making your life much harder than it needs to be. And before someone asks you to sign an NDA.

The Recovery Files: Rewind 2017

ot13; individual Lee Chan comes across a box of old cassette tapes, but when he expects to hear music, he finds some long lost stories instead.

Ah! Love

95 line (feat. baby doremi line) Where you live with your three boys and your three boys, and damn, life is good.

bits ‘n’ pieces a tag for short unofficial posts such as headcanons or unedited drabbles or discussions of fun aus, ideas, etc!

S.Coups

First to Fall (social media au) - completed

What happens when two friends who are ‘bad at love’ want to prove each other wrong?

Bouquets for a Friend (From a Friend)

Your boss gets flowers quite often. This time, when he does, he wants to get rid of them, and who are you to turn down free flowers?

Huff, Puff

When an injured vampire shows up at your door, you're of course there to help. But your werewolf partner is more than a little wary of this vampire's intentions.

Even If

On a typical scouting, Jeonghan and Chan find more trouble than they initially thought.

whatever u say (smau oneshot)

wherein Seungcheol is just trying his best, okay?

Blurbs:

[bright-eyed]   [why are we doing this?]  [wearing green to a funeral]   [the colour of anticipation and new love]   [being jumpy is just a concept]  [unconscious crimes against humanity] [sooo, what did I miss?] [in another life]

Featured in: Ah! Love as one husband of three Oh Baby, You as the ambitious CEO

Jeonghan

Blurbs:

[who cares baby] 

Featured in: Ah! Love as one husband of three First to Fall as the only friend with a brain Even If as the tired, half undead leader

Joshua

What the Fuck is Up with Secretary Hong? (social media au) - ongoing

An Oh Baby, You mini series "You must be Choi Seungcheol. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” “No... No, uh... The pleasure is all mine.”

Blurbs:

[the colour of i’ll-never-forget]  [nights before] [the amnesia card always declines]

Featured in: Ah! Love as one husband of three First to Fall as the unknowing love square member

Jun

Wrecked

There are many things that come with the beaten up android you find on the corner of fifth and march.

Blurbs:

[the crossover no one was asking for]  [stay here with me]

Hoshi

Bluff and Nonsense ❤

Soonyoung never thought one bluff could lead to so much nonsense.

She/Her version - He/Him version

Bonus: Fluff and Context Bonus bonus blurbs: [a fate of my choosing]  [pick a struggle] [hank, the (ten-foot) skeleton] 

Blurbs:

[spoken or not] [love pop!]  [get a taste]  [a warm welcome to the tiger prince]

Wonwoo

25¢ Magic

Wonwoo needed a little magical intervention. Definitely not for you. For his eyes. Yeah. His eyes.

Oh Baby, You (social media au) - ongoing; female reader

The birth of your son three years ago was what caused your breakup with Wonwoo, your longtime (and at that point, long distance) partner. Now, you're getting concerned that Orion is starting to look a lot like his dad, but that's not your only problem. Wonwoo is back… and he's living across the hall.

Blurbs:

[static shots] [of cold touches] [it’s all days of love]  [hear me now] [mr chosen one]

Featured in: Please Linger as the non-soulmate s/o

Woozi

Hold Me; Heal Me

In a world where a soulmate’s touch can heal any wound, you would think you’d have no worries. But after your soulmate told you he didn’t want to be exactly that, you set your heart aside. It shouldn’t matter anyways, you reasoned. What need does a vigilante have of soulmates? 

part two: Find Me; Fear Me

A Poorly Constructed Metaphor

After the accident, Lee Jihoon builds an android.

Blurbs:

[little white lies] [lavender mist] [warm refuge] [shakespeare’s words] [what happens on floor 17]   [oh don’t be such a fool] 

Featured in: Bluff and Nonsense as Soonyoung's best friend and voice of reason Wrecked as the hoverport mechanic/friend

Dokyeom

The Only Way to Get a Good Sleep

Seokmin misses you lots n lots part two: How to Harvest Sunshine

Blurbs:

[to still a beating heart] (title swap game with @kimsunwoodz​) 

Mingyu

Please Linger

In a world where a soulmate’s touch can heal any wound, Mingyu knows his own soulmate can only heal so much.

[coincidence? I think yes]

You need a husband, and Mingyu, well, Mingyu is there.

Blurbs:

[forget what I said] [brains on the brain] [forget me not] [sunset pursuit] [a little something something] [how about this]  [good night, mr kim]

Featured in: Oh Baby, You as the best friend

The8

Blurbs:

[gift of hypocrisy]   [wedding planners]  [leave the leaves alone] 

Seungkwan

Mission Possible

One of Mr Boo’s students sees his brand new engagement ring.

Blurbs:

[midnight opinions]  [the folly of the pumpkin spice latte] 

Featured in: Ah! Love as one son of three

Vernon

Or, Would You Rather it be Me?

A detested soulmark, a friendship over a decade in the making, and an unexpected proposal from one friend to another... what could possibly go wrong?

Expecting (smau oneshot)

Wherein vernon wants to give his friends a very special announcement

implied female reader

city boy, ilyyy (smau oneshot)

where there's a bug in Vernon's apartment

Blurbs:

[roses sometimes wither]  [where the night sky meets the sea]  [it’s the great pumpkin, vernon chwe!] 

Featured in: Ah! Love as one son of three

Dino

Pansy

Over the years, you learned that being a Pansy wasn’t so bad.

Blurbs:

[rejection for hire] [watch closely] [midnight alarm] [mis-magicked]  [fatal floral flaw]

Featured in: Ah! Love as one son of three

Main Masterlist

[punemy-spotted]

Series Preview: Down Here, In This Valley

“There are places in this world that humanity was never s'posed to see. Walled in by mountains of burnin' black rock, isolated by a choking canopy o’poison flora, woods where tooth, claw, and hunger still sit atop the food chain.”

— Old Gods of Appalachia, Episode 0: Prologue

These are old mountains.

Cold mountains.

Coal mountains.

And you should never have come to them.

None of us should’ve.

Pairings:Old One!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader; Old One!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Elements, Dub-Con, Soft!Dark Characters, Dark! Characters, Cult Elements, Human/Animal Sacrifice, Religious Elements, Blasphemy, Cosmic/Dark Horror, Stalking, Possessive/Obsessive Characters, Appalachian/Mountain Gothic, Gothic Horror, Descriptions of Death and Rot and Poverty

Notes: This is technically going to be an anthology series and each Reader will be different for each pairing and I do plan to add more, especially if the inspiration strikes me. This will be a series involving horror, but the Gothic horror kind, and is deeply inspired by the podcast Old Gods of Appalachia. Some of the lore will be credited to them wherever appropriate.

All stories will take place in a fictional town in Pennsylvania and all stories are interconnected.

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY AND IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE CONTENT THAT IS BEING PRESENTED, PLEASE DO NOT READ.

Not beta-read, these sins belong to me and me alone.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

Anyways here's the beginning of this series: Chapter 1 of Dead Trees like Lavender Fields, an Old One!Bucky Barnes Fic, so I can finally give the man some love.

You should never have come here, to this town that didn’t exist on any map you could find except the one which your Uncle Cletus sent you after your mother died. Hell, you didn’t even know you had an Uncle Cletus — you didn’t know the names of any of your mother’s family except you and your stepfather and frankly you were starting to understand why — not until you got the letter six days after the funeral, alongside a family Bible you didn’t know you had either.

The photo though, the one that fluttered out of it, that was all the proof you needed. Picture of her, spitting image of you now when you look into the mirror, holding a baby still in swaddling clothes.

See, the thing is, you’ve got the exact same one, hidden away in that album she never let you look at while she was alive. Just that picture, so she could show you, on the nights she felt the eyes on her, the nights she saw the symbols carved in the walls and never explained the meanings to you. Should never have married your pa, she’d tell you, not caring how your little ears tolerated her swearing or the way the Mountain Talk would come pouring from her tongue, all the way out in the plains of Kansas, Should never’ve let ‘im move us t’that haint-damned holler…

Haint-damned. You’re so used to that term and yet you still don’t know what it means, even here where the sun shines green through the woods — woods, not forest, you know well enough not to call them that, they ain’t that delicate — and the moon grins like the Devil through the leaves.

You should never have come here, to this place your mother ran from Like Hell itself was comin’ for me, right outta your christenin’, right outta your own pa’s filthy han’s. Can’t trust ‘em, them coal-boys, sweetgirl, can’trust the lights in the woods. You listenin’? You listen here an’ listen good — don’t you dare go into the woods alone. Ain’ nothin’ good for you there, ‘cept bein’ seen, and you never wanna be seen, sweetgirl.

Well.

You should have listened.

[arty-achilles]

OC Dump

For preparation for Inktober 2022,:

From Left to Right, I will now go over each group and the characters. Send ask if you want to know more:

The Half Way There kids:

Residing in Randveil City, a place where reality occasionally forgotten its own rules. These three normal (???) teens and a vigilante came together to put a dead kid to rest.

Suri (????): The dead kid in question. Was a prince of an unknown kingdom at some point. Got killed by his uncle hundreds of years ago but for some reason could not move on. Although a sweet kid, the hundreds of years of unrest (and being locked in a mirror) had caused him to be a bit manic.

Alyasha (16): Clone of a previous vigilante in Randveil City. Had her life planned out for her from the moment of her birth and she was ready to followed it to a T. Up until she busted a smuggling ring, accidentally release Suri from his mirror prison and him decided to 'haunt' her made her rethink her life plan.

Ngoc 'Pearl' Anh (14): Immigrant kid. Her parents died when she was small when their car stopped working in the middle of a snow storm. Although she was with them she miraculous survived with no damaged. Cheerful and bright, Pearl aims to bring warmth to everyone around her (especially her foster brother Joseph) despite her freezing body tempt. Often drags other into shenanigans.

Joseph Lavender (14): Runaway from his mother when he was 10 (who might or might not be the local crazy necromancer ;3) currently lived with Pearl. He's curious of anything and everything around him although a bit social awkward (he's working on it). Despite being a very powerful magic user (his power came from a deal he made with a being a long time ago), Joseph hesitated to use some...darker aspect of his power.

Kaleb Murphy (14): Relatively normal compare to the rest of the group. No tragic backstory. Did gambled against a strange traveler for something as a kid but he doesn't remember that. Calm and level headed, he tried to see the good in everyone.

Pokemon Trainers:

Amira and Chris Fear (14 and 10): Pokemon Glazed Nuzlock. I lost the notes for the run but the basic gist of it is that the two siblings a currently running away from home so Amira can have a pokemon journey she's always wanted. They had a dead older brother and dad. Their mom is alive but she's rarely home, although she does keep a very close eyes on Chris' studie. Amira is amnesiac, and often have memory problems. While Chris is constantly pressured into constantly learning when all he wanted to do is have fun.

Cam Nguyen (17): Grew up in Lavender, her father own a funeral home (for humans) while her step mother own the local bookshop. Very social awkward because she didn't interact much with other children growing up.

Matt Trix (15): Pokemon Black Nuzlocke. The mysterious trainer that showed up one day. Often mistaken with the local missing kid Hilbert.

Willis Soot (18): Fairy Tale Boy. He's just vibing with his pokemon man. Very chill.

DnD Trio:

I haven't played Dnd for two years now but these three are very dear to me.

Justine Time/ Mikale Geaynde (13): Chaotic Good, Grave domain Cleric. His worship Thanatos which was one of the non approved of the kingdom which caused his family to be eradicated. Feral boy, always up for minor mischief, will stab you. Change his name from Mikale Geaynde to Justine Time.

Rouge Bianca Ignus Ted Cavora Hullmelk Rouge (30): True Neutral, Circle of Moon Druid. Was an abandons Goliath Orphan who got raised by an retired adventurer party (Who named her after all of them). Was an adventurer party herself but nearly all her party got killed in a relief mission (they where only there to heal people when a revived Dragon attack). Now lives in the wood alone, only occasionally visited other surviving party members. Wine aunt.

Elna (20): Good (???), Life Domain Cleric. Worship Leib god of flow, blood and life. Grew up in an isolated church which she wasn't allow to leave due to the priest fear of her getting harm. But now that she's an adult, they are very reluctantly letting her go out more. Physically? 0 strength. Running jokes that if she punch you she'll heal you instead of hurt you.

Fantasy Trio:

The kingdom of Solis is filled with magic and mystical things waiting to be discovered. Too bad these three boys aren't looking for adventure.

Justine Time/ Thyme Freeran (15): Due to sudden passing of law limiting legal worship of gods, Thyme whole churched was hunted down. After barely making out alive from the initial raid, Thyme Changed his name, move to a small village and start building a new life there. Now if his paranoia would just diel back down.

Percy Mersner (14): Son of the town's mages, Percy is in short the village pride and joy as the magical prodigy and an up and coming student at the Kingdom most prestigious school for mages. But for now he's perfectly content with spending time with his mothers, little siblings (and friends even if both of them denied it)

Raxton Castro (16): Bastard son of the current king. Originally being raised to overthrown the current king by a retired knight. But that plan got discovered and with said knight being killed, Raxton is left to figures out what to do with his life and hopefully no get assignated.

Villain Trio (2003 teen titans):

Average students of the HIVE Academy. With their school dismantle and nowhere to go, these three decided to kick started their villain career by robbing a bank....in Jump City....where the Teen Tians are based......

WHY IS THE TEEN TITANS HERE?!!!

Sigil/ Hazt Cover (13): Magic user, cast spell using his card with sigils on it. A man (very insistant that he's not a kid) of many words. Usually goes up against Raven

Felix (17): Luck Manipulation, Jinx hate his guts. His power only works on things that he touch. Will try to stay out of physically fight for as long as possible.

Jingle Bella/ Bina Murrcy (15): Illusions signal by sounds of bells. Also does not like physical fight, prefer dodging and confused people using her illusion.

[the-loveliest-lotus]

Current WIP Long-Fanfiction List

I suppose I should make a post for all of my big work-in-progress fanfictions rather than just my Metalocalypse one. List with plot descriptions and pairings below the cut. Works are for The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Phantasm, and Metalocalypse.

All of them are OC x Character pairings, and are all rated Explicit. Links are all to AO3 where there is more info about what is found in the story in the tags/chapter descriptions. I write smut with something of a plot, y’all. We don’t have horny jail on this island, we embrace the horny.

Texas Chainsaw Massacre: When You're Not Fed Love on a Silver Spoon, You Learn to Lick it Off Knives

Begins in late June of 1973: Nubbins hitches a ride home with some girls who are on ecstasy. One of them takes a liking to him, offers him some, and they quickly discover that they share some interesting kinks. They form a connection based initially on sex, but as they spend more time together they realize that they have more in common (spoiler, it's not cannibalism) and they start dating.

Or, Nubbins gets laid and then gets a nurturing connection that grounds him enough that he ~mostly~ gets his shit together, and Bobby doesn’t go completely insane because his twin survives.

Pairings (so far): Nubbins x OC ; Chop Top x (different) OC

BE MINDFUL THAT THIS ONE CONTAINS ~EXPLICIT~ VIOLENT GORE SCENES.

Phantasm: The Butterfly Effect

What if on the day of Jody's funeral, the Tall Man meets the reincarnation of his beloved from his life? What if because of this, the Tall Man doesn't uproot Jody's body immediately, and Mike doesn't fixate on the Tall Man? What if this leads to an entirely different future, wherein the Tall Man finds some ~eventual~ balance?

-OR-

A modern AU porn with a plot wherein the Tall Man finds his reincarnated love, and she's an absolute unconventional masochistic oddity in the best of ways. Despite some initial desire to repress his feelings, she manages to reacquaint him with some of his humanity. The story also draws on aspects of Ancient Greek mythology. (Think non-monogamy and various details from the Hades/Persephone myth as well as others interwoven, but Persephone is sexually empowered.) This summary is simplistic at best, but y'all get the idea.

Polyamorous Pairings: The Tall Man x OC ; Lady in Lavender x OC ; Reggie Bannister x OC

Metalocalypse: The Wicker Man

One day as the members of Dethklok were sitting around and surfing the TV channels, Pickles sees his long lost best friend from Wisconsin, Lucy Desmond, in a mug shot. The boys watch the news as she dances while her house burns, following the murder of her abusive husband. With a strong desire to help her get her life back, Pickles approaches Charles and asks for him to help his friend out. None of them could ever expect how well she's about to fit into their lives.

Another OC-focused reverse-harem Polyklok story (she will end up with all of them at least once), but heavy on the Knubbler/OC and Pickles/OC. There will be ~very eventual~ Magnus/OC. Canon divergent alternate universe while also trying to remain canon. This one is gonna be long, strap in for the ride.

This one has a Table of Contents that is updated chapter to chapter due to the sheer amount of pairings that there will eventually be.