#ptternminds

[stillresolved]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LENLEN ( @ptternminds )!! did you know that your muses are very photographable and deserve to be on the cover of a magazine?? and also that your blog deserves fan content?? well now you don't have to imagine anymore!!

again though i hope you have the most wonderful day and i hope this year will be a peaceful and happy one for you 💕💕💕

[kamipyre]

@ptternminds sent in: Sarang's hands suit themselves perfectly to the task at hand, even though they're the hands of a killer. It's almost a shame, how easily she forgets they are, when she buzzes around Suki like a butterfly, a dragonfly, as opposed to the wasp she actually is. She's holding up two pairs of earrings. Right hand: silver, long enough to graze the jaw ever so slightly if the head is tilted just right, fine and soft to run through a palm. Left hand: the other, similar, but rather than appearing like a string, small light pink hearts cascade in a shorter length, ending in a larger heart carrying most of the weight between her fingers. Her eyebrows waggle. She lifts the left hand slightly higher. "You gotta pick a pair. It's all about exploring new styles, come on." ((i was writing this and realized in spite of Sarang being a WHOLE LOT ORDER when I think about these two, Suki feels more mature? in how she handles the past, in particular? BUT ANYWAYSD FDKLHGL))

UNSURPRISINGLY, SHE'S ALWAYS HAD A LOVE-HATE RELATIONSHIP WITH FASHION. On one hand, it is a means of expressing herself– if she dressed well enough, smart enough, or maybe even outrageously enough, would they notice that before her face? She's dreamt about it before, always wondering, always milling on the possibilities, but never quite bold enough to take the risk.

( Of the things to be timid around, it just has to be fashion doesn't it? Perhaps this is something she could ask her co-workers for advice once upon a time– man or woman or enby, most are decidedly bold in their fashion choice. From leather jackets to fur linings, to frills lining the edge of magenta overcoats, they are brazen in their choices. Confident and closed to any if not all critiques. )  

Of course Suki barely knows where to even start. It's not like she can ask her co-workers ( or at least the ones she actually still likes ) anyways– it occurs to her that just like with other areas in her life, perhaps getting a mentor is key to learning. It can't be a man though, no matter how well dressed they are and unfortunately, if not all of them happen to be well, men. Again, it occurs to her that having no femme-aligning friends is coming to bite her in the ass.

But even if it was a woman, her mentor would need to carry herself in the same manner as all the others: relentless, patient, and wise. Pro-active too– Suki's learning has always been more hands-on. So it'd have be someone like–

Jing holds up the two earrings, which as far as Suki is aware, are only different by the hearts dangling on the end of the right one. She tilts her head. "What about the rest of the outfit? I thought people are supposed to pick the accessories after they have one." Something she remembers from the one too many dramas she's watched. Would Jing also have seen and learned from them?

( Nowadays, her job is busier than ever, but in a strange contradiction, Jing has been around even more...almost as if she knew most of the people whom Suki used to hang around are gone. )

But of course, Jing, who handles everything with a light touch, insists on making a choice. That, Suki can empathize with. There is only so much time for one to deliberate before the waiting becomes the choice. And Suki?

Doesn't have the luxury of time. Especially not in her job.

She points to the one on the right. "I like the hearts but–" She pouts, exasperated. "I need them to look at me as an equal. I'll look more like a kid if I wear the other one."

[repetiita]

@ptternminds asked : 🎤 Kaede bc you'd think i'd grow less insane about her with time, alas, here we are

We all know that I have 3 smokers, 2 heavy drinkers and 2 drug users in my muse list. Kaede here, has hit 3 for 3, she smokes, she takes to alcohol like a fish in water and as doctor, she uses drugs. In her defense, she does so as a test but the fact still stands, she is a MESS ( My money, my time, my liver, I'll hand them all over ). Mostly created from the circumstances of being unwanted by her birth mother, Kaede Himuro craves LOVE. ( In the end, once you’re drunk, anyone is fine )

Will she find it at the bottom of a bottle? No, but what she will find is an easy way to forget her issues and be wanted for at least a few minutes ( People, in order to kill off their own loneliness -- And to throw up their emptiness, drink ).

I chose this song because it's good for 3 characters but it speaks to how Kaede desires acceptance and fleeting love and pleasure and is willing to lie and throw away her pride in a drunken stupor to get it ( Everyone's a hypocrite, hunting while using kind lies as bait ). And unlike the other two, she's ready to do it every single night after work. She wants what she didn't grow up with, she wants to be chosen ( once you're drunk, anyone is fine ), she wants to settle down and marry ( I won't even be chosen as that "anyone" ). She wants what she doesn't think she'll get despite her 'confidence' ( It's easy to lie about love ).

A mixed drink full of cheap bourbon Is a good fit for a half-wit like you But once we’re drunk, I’m sure It’ll all taste the same People, in order to kill off their own loneliness And to throw up their emptiness, drink  My money, my time, my liver Hey, I’ll hand ‘em all over, so Why don’t we try being together?

In the end, Kaede will drink and use herself as a drug tester until her dying days if she isn't forcibly shown that she doesn't need someone else to give her life meaning. Her dad didn't need it when she was raised by him and neither does she. Also the thing I like the most at the end of EVERY chorus is that it ends three ways. The first is p much how she's living life fast without a care ( Don't stop! Without a single care, one more glass! ), then the second is how she's become dependent without even realising she's just drinking to drink ( Can't stop! Without any meaning, one more glass!) and then the acceptance that she is a dumbass but she still ( Won't stop! Before I die, one more glass! ).

You might not be able to fix her without matching her freak ( Shushing people by pressing a finger to my lips, I'll leave out the usual stuff that happens till 2 A.M. ).

↳ FOR EVERY 🎤 SENT, I WILL LIST A SONG I ASSOCIATE WITH MY MUSE ::

[wellfell]

 akina has been called a spoiled brat , more than twice a day . a girl that's not satisfied with whatever stupid present you bring for her , no matter how hard you've worked to buy her one because she's used to the grandest and most extravagant luxuries — a marble mansion and triplet tigers were the start of her lovely story , these soldiers didn't have any idea what akina has seen and tasted before coming here . and she's expected to be dissatisfied with the current situation , disgusted by the gesture of a maria boy saving her some napkins and a fork .

 her brows raise with an unexpectedly tender expression . it dissolves into playfulness when she lets out an airy giggle and turns back to the plates she's filling with soft potatoes and some greenery she's sure nobody will eat . that's why they prefer eren's cooking , and armin’s cooking , because they don't busy themselves with unnecessary decorations of the plates . the greens she's dipped in oil and softened with heat , it'll help with their stomach problems but it's unlikely anyone will pay attention to her hard work . ❛ are you saying that i'm too fancy to be eating with my hands ? ❜  a quite mischievous look flashes her eyes when she passes by him to gather the napkins . ❛ i’ll take the napkins though . ❜  can't have her walking around with a dirty mouth or dirty fingers , yeah ? mikasa enters the kitchen and shuts her up , quickly , effectively , the plates were gently handed to her to be carried to the table inside the room and out of the kitchen . they don't exchange many words , not at all in fact , but akina understands what she's asking for when she stares at the glasses for too long . so , quickly , she puts them on top of the plates too , with a big grin and watches her head out . a few moments pass , before akina jumps to sit on top of the counter with her own plate on her lap . she's grabbed the fork eren saved for her , and she's eating . starting from the greens . ❛ i used to get mad at our maids for putting mashed potatoes with duck meat . i hated it because my mom would always force me to eat it too . ❜  she points at eren with the fork after biting off the potato from it's tip . ❛ i love it now . i think you just make it better than our maids did . ❜

    * - ' cont. @ptternminds

[wrathphoenix]

@ptternminds continued from here.

When Shi QingXuan had laid eyes on that particular silk shawl while roaming the markets of the mortal realm, they just knew they would have to buy it for their new friend. The colors were vivid, the fabric was soft to the touch. It was light enough to not  give one the feeling of being choked while wearing it, but it was still enough to keep one warm in winter. It was beautiful. Ming-xiong could only roll his eyes at the sentiment, he was used to Shi QingXuan handing out gifts like they were nothing, he had had his fair share of gifts himself ever since Shi QingXuan had put the utmost effort into befriending the Earth Master, but that didn’t mean he could not pretend to be annoyed at Shi QingXuan’s behavior. The Wind Master wasn’t bothered by that at all as it was Ming-xiong’s usual attitude, so Shi QingXuan just laughed.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Ming-xiong. I would have gifted this to you, but these are definitely not your colours. Hua Lian will love this, though!”

Shi QingXuan was sure of it.

Yet, when they waited outside of Ling Wen’s palace, waiting for Hua Lian to finish his daily shift as a Civil God, they couldn’t help but feel like he was not as thrilled as they hoped him to be. The smile never left Shi QingXuan’s lips, they were still looking at their friend with anticipation as Hua Lian seemed to inspect the shawl in his hands, but as the moment dragged on Shi QingXuan couldn’t help but feel a little nervous and eventually their smile faltered for a moment.

“You don’t.. like it?”

Shi QingXuan was well liked among the Heavenly Officials, mostly because of their generosity, because they liked to spoil their peers with merits whenever they could. They knew there were also the ones that called them naïve, their brother was sometimes among those voices, but they believed there couldn’t be anything wrong with kindness among a Court that liked to talk behind one another’s back. So when the newly ascended Hua Lian had approached them, trying to befriend them, Shi QingXuan had willingly accepted the offered friendship, though the hesitation they now saw in Hua Lian’s eyes made them feel uneasy. And when Hua Lian suggested it would look well on Shi QingXuan they took back the shawl for a moment, once more inspecting it, slender fingers running over the fabric as if to check the quality. Maybe it was not to Hua Lian’s liking?

“You flatter me, Hua Lian”, Shi QingXuan says cheerfully as they were obviously not someone to reject a given compliment, but talking about their own beauty had definitely not been the reason for todays visit. Shi QingXuan and Hua Lian had not been friends for a long time, but they couldn’t help but feel like there was a certain emptiness behind Hua Lian’s smile sometimes, like the smile meant to please the people around him, to serve as a mask, to cover up what he was really feeling. Shi QingXuan wanted to give Hua Lian a proper reason to smile.

“Hua Lian. Would you please accept my gift? Even if it is just this once? It would mean a lot to me.”

There was warmth and gentleness in Shi QingXuan’s gaze as he looked at Hua Lian, his movement was slow as he stepped forward so Hua Lian could easily avoid them if he wanted to, but then they reached out and they carefully wrapped the shawl around Hua Lian’s neck, tugging the lose ends into his robe.

“There. It looks great on you, just like I said.”

[clemencetaught]

@ptternminds / continued from here!

THEIR BAG HAS KEROPPI PRINTED FRONT AND CENTER. And maybe the social worker knows it well themselves, but the mascot…well it doesn't suit them, does it? Still, they carry it and Myungdae can only assume it's either for a. sentimental reasons or b. the safety it invokes. Children are drawn to bright colors and even more so mascots- perhaps it is a means of getting children like Yuri to open up to them, the CPS worker.

Not that Myungdae is inquiring. Keroppi isn't even Yuri's favorite. It's actually Cinnamoroll. Or was it Pompompurin? She has plushies of both. It occurs to him that perhaps he would know which one she favored more if she didn't sleep on the couch with him most nights…or if she even liked either of them to begin with. It hadn't even been his idea to get her the plushies- Nell and Alfred got her each as welcome present of sorts.

Myungdae highly doubts the social worker- Baek- would care much, would they? Baek, who sits across from him unannounced, with a poker face almost akin to his own, the only different being that their calm doesn't try to hide their…disdain. They don't seem all that impressed with him, really. Probably wondering how the hell he, of all people ended u,p with not only Yuri, but also Hiro.

It wouldn't make matters much better if he admitted he's not sure how things ended up this way either, would it? All he knew at the time was that Yuri and Hiro both needed someone, an adult at the time and of course, he happened to be there.

What was he supposed to do? Turn them away?

"Oh," He says, rather simply too. He knows he needs to put on a good impression for Baek. The impression of a competent, attentive parent: one who knows what they're doing, one who knows their child. And yet-

"Um…daycare? She doesn't like being away from us if she doesn't have to be."

He feels as far away from himself, even further than he does to Yuri. Maybe that's why he was so insistent on taking her in. It takes a stray to know a stray.

But Baek doesn't need to know that. Sure, they mean well, prioritizing Yuri's well-being above the niceities and reserving judgement for what probably looks like a disaster zone if families were supposed to be houses. But it doesn't change that they're not- well, trust is hard-earned in these parts, aren't they? Their ID badge doesn't earn them points either, especially not with Alfred.

Still Myungdae can't help but wilt a little bit more under their gaze. Or what feels like a scolding, even if he'll be damned before reaching out for additional services for assistance. That's just more surveillance to put up with. "I'm fine, really. She…we don't need therapy, these additional resources if that's what you're trying to say– what she needs right now is stability." Which he wants to believe she's getting. "I thought…I thought that's what you were looking for her to have."

[stillresolved]

The lapis lazuli is finely reworked, a show of loyalty, and a heart Eunjae pretends to no longer possess, dangling from their ear and occasionally brushing against their neck if they move just the right way. Like now.

Eunjae makes the beeline the moment they see Annie, with the same disinterested nonchalance they'd brushed past every other victor in the room. None of their concern. They've seen too many who could have stood here instead, die. Sent some out there themselves. Annie, isolated and exploited, stands out like the indestructible buoy people describe her as. Eunjae grabs the glass a Capitolite is trying to push into her hand and pours bad champagne down their throat.

"Darn," a contorted face, the hint of a teasing smile. "Worst thing I've ever had." The empty glass is shoved back into the Capitolite's hand, Eunjae hardly turns to look. The fingers to curl around Annie's are gentle, a direct contrast to the aggression of clearing a space for Annie to be in. "This place has a fountain we can cool down next to. Come."

((personalized asks, hmmm >:3))

@ptternminds / unprompted.

THE SKIRT IS SMOOTH AGAINST HER PALMS. Blue and green silk beneath her fingers, it brushes against her ankles. The last one spilled onto the floor around her, trapping her feet in the center; they said that wouldn’t happen again. Not because it was inconvenient for her to move around, but because such luxurious fabric didn’t deserve to be trampled on by the masses. Still, Annie loathes to admit it, but if there is one thing she can appreciate about the Capitol, it’s the fact her stylists never put her in restrictive clothing.

( She also knows they struggled to figure out how to…market her: how do you style a mad girl, they kept asking themselves. We can’t go with an asylum look; that would offend the younger generations, damn snowflakes, they said. It would have been easier if they called her the Drowning Girl, another one joked. They ended up going with something similar- something about a drowned mermaid? ) 

Of course, if Annie had it her way, she wouldn’t be here, let alone the Capitol. It’s funny, the way people assume that following her games, she would be scared of the water. That she would never take another step into the ocean. Why would she be scared? To float is as natural as breathing air to Annie and if there was a way she had to go, it would have been a kindness to be surrounded by the water. The water has no morality; it only flows, flows, and flows.

Actually, it might be a kindness now to drown than being here. With this Capitolite man who keeps going on and on, something about District Four and how he’s braved his way there many times before, but she’s trying to focus more on both the glass he keeps trying to push into her hands and the other hand the keeps brushing over her shoulder. It’s getting harder and harder for her to decide which hand she wants farther away from her. It’s easier to wish she could be anywhere but here, somewhere far away like home or even further than that-

Bells jingle. Something blue in the midst of black cuts in front of her. 

She blinks.

It’s them.

The one person she always looks for in the Capitol.

They are quick to dispose of her conversation partner and even faster to take hold of her hand. The breath Annie didn’t realize she was holding comes out. She nods, following Eunjae’s lead.

–––

Eunjae is not home. Eunjae is not the water; they probably have never even seen the ocean for themselves and in this lifetime, they probably never will. It saddens Annie to know that– to know that Eunjae will never see the expanse of sea-green water beneath a sky that stretches beyond the horizon, will never taste the salt in their mouth, will never feel the sand between their toes. 

And yet. And yet, when Annie is home, Eunjae is whom she thinks of most, whom she wants to talk to most. From wondering if they would like the taste of fresh fish to collecting seashells from the shore to show them to polishing more rocks to give them. Sometimes it accumulates to Annie even looking forward to going back to the Capitol.

( Does that make her a traitor to her district? She doesn’t dare to admit that to anyone. Not that anyone would listen to her and not write it off as madness. )

Outside the ballroom is dark and cool, an array of greenery lying in wait beyond the lightshow of the mansion. As it turns out, the mansion also includes a magnificent garden that is usually used to hold the host’s biweekly tea parties. Usually the garden would be open for the nighttime guests, as the host used fireflies to light the area instead of those ‘boring lamplights’, but one of the trees had been uprooted last week, ruining the host’s flowerbeds. Their avoxes were still working to get both of those things fixed, apparently.

It still doesn’t explain how Eunjae knew this place would be unoccupied today of all days. but it makes no difference to Annie. Even if the night air sends goosebumps over her arms ( her stylists said she didn’t need a cardigan for tonight), she brightens at the sound of running water first and letting go of Eunjae’s hand, drifts over to the fountain. Hands dip into the fountain’s basin before she kicks her sandals off into the grass. Carefully ( or maybe not so ), she lifts her skirt and steps into the fountain. Annie closes her eyes and sighs.

It’s not the ocean, but it is something. Something like home. Even the light of the moon shining down is familiar.

Footsteps follow her and giddy and a little embarrassed too, she realizes Eunjae has been watching her. Eunjae who walks towards her, not a thread from their black coat nor a smidge of their facepaint out of place. And their earring, lapis lazuli dangles close by like a bell. Annie looks at them, pensively.

How odd, that people insist on calling them the ‘Jeoseungsaja of Panem’. Death itself personified- an unfeeling entity that brings the end of life without question, without warning. That’s the kind of person Panem says Eunjae is. A person without any emotions, any feelings.

The thing is, they’re wrong. Because on this chilly summer night where there are only the fireflies to bear witness, Eunjae is not Death.

Here, Eunjae is the MOON. 

They stop at the edge of the fountain, watching Annie with their hands in their pockets. Annie turns to them, water soaking the bottom of her skirt. “Thank you,” she says finally. “For taking me here.”

She takes a hold of Eunjae’s hands and squeezes them. “Join me?”

( One day, she'll find a place where both the water and Eunjae will be. Together. )

[kamipyre]

continued from here! / @ptternminds

MOVING HAS ALWAYS BEEN AN ARDUOUS PROCESS AND EVEN MORE SO SINCE SHE MOVED TO THE STATES. She took it for granted back then, living close by family. Even if they, her paternal relatives, didn't quite understand her, she was still family and therefore, they were required to help her if asked.

Lucky for Suki, she has her coworkers, whose height and strength came in handy for once and who are still packing up the last of her stuff at her old apartment. And now him! How convenient that he happens to be waiting by her new place–

Which also is odd if she thinks about it more, because she doesn't remember telling him the address.

"Why would you need to find out yourself?" She asks instead, confused. "It's my apartment keys."  Although perhaps he could have inferred that from the Hello Kitty charm hanging off the key ring. "I have a bunch of boxes I need to bring up; it's easier to move things if someone's already there to open the door!" Granted, he doesn't seem exactly dressed for the occasion ( which could only be explained by again that no one told him he would be roped into such an activity ), but he can always wash them later...

She hefts up two rather bulky boxes and marches ahead of him. "Can you grab the grocery bag too? It's got the toolbox- you should be able to open the door still. My apartment is on the second floor- first door on the right!" 

[repetiita]

@ptternminds asked : 🎤 Herr Gilbert~

What you gonna do WHEN THE CHIPS ARE DOWN? Now that the chips are down TAKE if you can, give if you must Ain't nobody but yourself to trust

What you gonna do when the chips are down? Now that the chips are down What you gonna do when the chips are down? Now that the chips are down

Aim for the heart, shoot to kill If you don't do it, then the other one will What you gonna do when the chips are down? Now that the chips are down What you gonna do when the chips are down? Now that the chips are down

And the first shall be first And the last shall be last Cast your eyes to heaven You get a knife in the back Nobody's righteous Nobody's proud Nobody's innocent Now that the chips are down

↳ FOR EVERY 🎤 SENT, I WILL LIST A SONG I ASSOCIATE WITH MY MUSE :: accepting !

[uroborosymphony]

               @ptternminds sent:

"There are eternal flames in Australia," Sarang twirls the wilted roses between her fingers. She'd picked them up somewhere hours ago, found an odd fascination with a bouquet thrown out for reaching what Sarang would describe only as another stage of another kind of beauty. "They say it's thousands of years old. I would have named it after you, had I discovered it first," the wilted roses, of course, are no match for the ancient beauty walking by her side. It's odd, how tranquil Sarang's soul becomes, when next to Calista, someone she met as enemy, as only equal opponent. But it's true. Her soul rests. "I suggest we visit," she introduces next, halting the Lamia in her step with a hand around her wrist. Her fingers tighten, an odd contrast in desperation, to the way she maintains her smile, trying to convince Calista, every day, to find a will to live in Sarang if nowhere else. "We could leave right now. Pretend to have never existed at all, and exist in peace there." ((😌💝))

Calista pauses her steps, feeling the warmth of Sarang's hand around her wrist. Her gaze drifts from Sarang's fingers to the wilted roses, their delicate petals curling in a final dance before they crumble to dust. There is a strong allure in Sarang's words, in the way she speaks of ancient yet eternal flames, forgotten places, and the offer of existing together forever. "You would have? Mm. I am not a thousand years old yet, Beloved," Calista speaks, her voice carrying the weight of time. Yet as the words leave her lips, she realizes... one day, she will be. This past January, she and Sarang marked her 600th year with a celebration in their cabin in the woodsd. If she does not find a way to die as she has long wished, a thousand years will come sooner than she dares imagine. Her eyes always soften when they meet Sarang's. Perhaps also, it is a way for Sarang to say she wishes Calista will reach her thousand years old, with her. "An eternal flame," she murmurs, her voice like the whisper of autumn leaves. "Now that I ponder it, after wandering the world and unraveling its secrets, it seems almost inconceivable that such a flame has escaped my notice." She gently laces her fingers with Sarang's, feeling the steady pulse of life beneath her touch. "To vanish, to dwell in peace in a foreign land... It is a dangerous temptation when speaking by you, Huntress," she says, a gentle smile playing upon her lips. "Could it truly be? To simply... exist there, unburdened by the shadows of our pasts?" Her gaze searches Sarang’s, as if seeking reassurance in those depths. "When my eyes meet yours, it is a siren’s call I find most difficult to resist." A silence falls between them, Calista’s thoughts swirling like the wind. How is it that in Sarang’s presence, the centuries seem less a burden. Never has she wished to live as she does now, standing beside this fierce, tender soul that is her lover's, hers, Sarang. Yet with that wish comes a fear—what is this yearning that stirs within her? This desire to cling to life, when for so long she simply wanted death? "If we go," she continues, her voice taking on the cadence of a time long past, each word carefully chosen, "if we forsake all that has come before, it can't be for a mere moment. It shall be for as long as the flames endure, for as long as your heart desires it." She hesitates, her gaze turning inward, questioning. "But I wonder... will I have the strength to embrace this newfound yearning? To live, truly live, when I never fully knew how to?"

[roscvcins]

"Being the local drunk and some disorderly conduct does not constitute A HISTORY." Her lips press together, the line sharp and thin, her tone even but firm and uninviting of further questioning.

The source of the problem is UNDERSTANDABLE - nevertheless, it causes her great displeasure. Mortals and demons have been locked in this endless cycle - a few ba apples spoil the barrel, drawing out the conflict into centuries of demons retaliating their persecution and mortals taking the damage done as further offense, over and over, time and time again until the end of the world. It's undeniable that on both sides, there have been significant losses.

Outside of Yedu and the six holy realms, however, she couldn't resolve things as quickly as she liked. Mortals, even mortal cultivators - were not within her jurisdiction, and she could not overly interfere in their matters.

Pinches the bridge of her nose, and her face returns to the cool expressionlessness that she had worn upon first arrival. She might not like the circumstances, but tact and patience were what her work demanded of her. "We conduct our own investigations as a neutral party before we incarcerate any suspects. These perceived 'tendencies,' as you say - frequently result in overlooking important evidence."

It is beyond Hua Lian, instead, how long this could possibly be taking. It isn't particularly difficult to point at someone who is already assumed to be a demon and make them the scapegoat of anybody's crime. Hua Lian has gotten away with it before, in private little manners he managed to skirt by the influence and participation of high-ranking people like the princess.

Just his luck to have her here now, for a case that doesn't even matter to him. Just the blame, passed onto someone else, a petty crime, a petty offense - really, who involves the princess of Yedu for theft, no matter how precious the heirloom - to stir the pot between people who disagree anyway, so he can keep his face intact, and keep people on his side.

His smile is pleasant, because it always is, it oozes with the clear attempt to appease more than appeal, to appear as an ally as opposed to a foe, and finally get things his way.

"What for? If I may be so bold... some do have stronger tendencies to perform certain kinds of actions. No? And besides, the testimonies seem clear enough. Not to mention the history."

[tewwor]

freshest catch of they night day interaction call ( accepting ) — @ptternminds

A low melodic echo rounds her little stall. Ini's hard at work, as always, but with wet slate eyes cast between sky and sea. Somewhere, in the far distance, a storm brews. Won't hit the town today, but soon..

"Heed the sign, sugar." She doesn't turn to face the newcomer. Simply points a slender finger to the sign overhead —  large chalked letters that read ‘you break, you buy’ encased in varnished wood. "You in the market for some wares? Charms? Got a sale on the knots — only one left for today. Let me know if you’d like to snatch one.” Anymore than four a day and she’d be drained of magic for the next three. Damn sailors and their favored gusts or grants for fortune.

[stillresolved]

"It is my business because I care about you." - annjae eunnie if it works? 🥺🥺🥺 (i'll take both names at the same time pls 🥺🥺🥺)

@ptternminds / bridgerton prompts.

THE THING ABOUT COMING BACK is that now she’s officially a mentor, Annie is, by Capitol standards, healthy. Fit, healthy, able-bodied, and not mad. There are pros and cons to this assumption, she has come to quickly learn. 

On one hand, it means she doesn’t have any more of those mandated doctor visits. She hated those, back during her ‘recovery’ in District Four, where the doctor assigned by the Capitol ( not by choice of course, who in the Capitol would want to live in the Districts? Apparently that’s the equivalent of social suicide, as if that would be the end of all things ever ), would ask her probing if not demeaning questions. Her appointments always left her feeling lightheaded, dizzy.

( Mad. )

On the other hand, they call her normal now. Still the Mad Girl yes, but just like any other victor, functional. Officially, in their records, she’s been cured of her madness. 

( They’re foolish like that. How do you know when a mad girl becomes normal again? The answer is you don’t because she never will be. )

It’s no wonder then, how they’ll willingly look the other way when the madness strikes again. An episode, the doctor had called it. Depersonalization and derealization. But all Annie knows about it is that it always starts small. Light spots in her vision, the voices of those around her growing more and more distant until their mouths remind her of goldfish forming air bubbles: soundless and then sooner than later, formless too.

That’s when it gets worse. Scarier, how the forms turn formless, turn blurry until she can’t tell what’s real and what’s not real.  She shuts her eyes and crouching, she covers both ears with her hands. She has to get it together, she knows this, knows that the others are watching her, evaluating her because if she doesn’t pull it together, they’re going to come back. They’re going to come back for her and throw her in that hospital room because it’s just like they’ve been saying all along, she’s the mad girl, girls like that need to be locked away for betterment of everyone else and-

Someone approaches. Someone she knows? It can’t be– her mentor is too busy with his current tributes. But who else would dare to come close to her. Through a mosaic vision, a familiar face appears. Something blue dangles by their chin. Lips move- are you okay? Annie shakes her head. Tries not to cry either.

“Leave me, I-I, it’s none of your business.”

The person frowns. Or maybe that is just Annie’s imagination. Either way, Annie flinches; did she just anger them? No, that’s the last person she wants to upset because of her. It makes no sense, worrying about them; they don’t know her the way District Four does, they don’t even know Annie all that well and have no reason to do so. It’d be easier for them that way too– their nonchalance to the eye of the media is what makes them impervious to the Capitol. To show even an ounce of caring will…they crouch down next to her. 

"It is my business because I care about you."

A hand rests on the top of her back. Annie focuses on its warmth, spreading from there and then down. That’s real, isn’t it? That’s real along with Eunjae who reminds her to remember to breathe. Her games are already done, she’s survived and right now, in spite of it all, she’s alive.

The outline of her feet begins to return into focus. She sniffles.

“Thank…you…”

[repetiita]

@prerodinu @ptternminds

being a fan of a friend's ocs is actually so humiliating....... like yes my favourite character rn is tragically doomed and a pillar of humanity who i think is relevant to the current world. you can find information about them on discord dot com and sometimes in late-night conversations with this guy i know. what the fuck

[repetiita]

@ptternminds asked : 🎤 and Camilla ♥

Someday When we are wiser When the world's older When we have learned I pray Someday we may yet live To live and let live

Someday Life will be fairer Need will be rarer Greed will not pay Godspeed This bright millennium On it's way

Let it come SOMEDAY

↳ FOR EVERY 🎤 SENT, I WILL LIST A SONG I ASSOCIATE WITH MY MUSE :: accepting !

[uroborosymphony]

The songstress is sitting in Minho's ( @ptternminds ) living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting shadows on the walls, creating a peaceful and tranquil sanctuary. The place is more spacious than her own, for now. Minho, being a doctor, had always lived comfortably, upper-middle-class, despite having his own struggles. With the scams they had been running, Ilana is about to move into a similar apartment, her head has been full of that new place she has found in this fancy neighbehood, for her and Luna. The air is thick with the scent of old books she goes through silently, blending perfectly with her intoxicating perfume and the smoke of her cigarette. Tonight, she is a queen without her court, waiting for her king to return. A kingdom of power, a kingdom of money, a kingdom of certitude. Nothing had stopped them, nothing could, nothing would. They had mastered the perfect crime; they had been untouchable for months.Minho is supposed to be back soon. They have plans to discuss their next move, a conversation that will carry the weight of life and death and celebration, too. A sudden knock at the door shatters the fragile peace. Ilana sets her glass down with a soft clink, believing he has finally returned from taking Soomi to a friend's house for a sleepover. Her steps are silent on the plush carpet as she opens the door wide, revealing an unknown man. Tall and imposing, his demeanor exuding an air of unease that makes her instinctively cautious.

"Good evening. Can I help you?" the songstress questions, her glass still in hand, her voice smooth and rich like velvet. The man’s eyes meet hers. "Good evening. Park Hyungsoo. I am a coworker of Minho. I need to speak to him. Is he home?" Ilana's lips curves into a slow, sultry smile, her demeanor effortlessly composed. "As a matter of fact, Minho is not home right now. Can I maybe take a message?" The man's gaze doesn't waver, and Ilana can feel the weight of his stare upon her. "Actually, I'd like to come in." She hesitates, the request hanging in the air like a guillotine. A gut feeling she can't shake. As Park walks in without waiting for her word, his presence fills the room with a palpable tension. It is then that a flicker of recognition sparks in her mind. She has seen this man before, a shadowy figure lurking at the edges of her vision. "Miss Cho, right?" he said, his voice carrying an undercurrent of menace. She gives a firm nod. "Herself." Her mind is filled with thoughts and strategies as the air becomes heavy. The man goes on about how he had heard about her from Minho, indicating a closeness between the men. Something that doesn't make sense based on her memory: this man, she hs seen around yet never with Minho. "I should get you a glass of wine, shouldn't I, Gentleman? This way we can chat over all the ways Minho has spoken of me. Only as the personification of Poetry, I hope?" she jokes casually and lightly, a coquettish laughter to herself. Making her way to the kitchen, the man was out of her sight for a minute as her features harden and her thoughts as well. There is enough time for her to grab her phone and type a text while pouring a glass. [Minho] There is a man in your apartment together with me.He says his name is Park Hyungsoo. I have seen him around, but I cannot remember where exactly yet I am convinced he is lying to me. Putting the phone down, she turns around. Her turn comes with a high-pitched scream, and the glass falls, hitting the ground with a loud crash, spilling red wine. Her heart races as the man, this Park Hyungsoo, joined her in the kitchen, a gun in hand, pointed at her. "Give me the phone," he orders, his voice calm yet commanding, his other hand extended to catch the device, eyes wide with a manic intensity as he there is somethig inside he didn't manage to control, something that made him break this half fake identity he tried to hold for a minute. It isn't the first time Ilana has been held at gunpoint, but here her options seem limited. Her breathing escalates, thoughts colliding, not willing to bow to whatever threats this man could come up with. "What do you want and who the fuck are you?? You're getting mistaken here darling if you think you're going to threaten me int-" The man doesn't reply, grabbing the phone forcefully and seizing her arm with a painful grip. "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME! LET GO OF ME!!" Ilana screams, trying to escape his hold. Sadly, he immediately pressed the gun into her back, silencing her. "SHUT UP! Hands up, walk to the living room and SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he barks, forcing Ilana to comply, pushing her down onto the couch to which she held onto in her fall. "I just want a chat with the doctor. He took suuuuuch good cake of my brother. You being here is just the cherry on top I needed," he speaks with a tone now filled with nothing but anger. Her eyes widen slightly as she looks up - him still holding that gun, looking down on her. This man—she had seen him before, in the hospital corridor, flowers in hand. He had come to visit a victim, a man who had passed away from heart disease—a man they had killed. Yes, they killed this man's brother.