#wall flower 98% of the time

[benj1cot]

listen benji may not know how to talk to women, but give him alcohol and this man gets liquid courage like a mf

[humblequestvinyl]

the view between villages

THE VIEW BETWEEN VILLAGES, FISHER BROTHERS X SISTER!READER

APART OF THE ‘WE’LL ALL BE HERE FOREVER’ SERIES

SUMMARY: after the death of her mother, the youngest fisher takes a drive away from the chaos, leaving her back in cousin’s, where for the first time in six weeks, everything’s still.

inspired by the view between villages by noah kahan.

◀ ⏸ ▶

lowercase intentional! wc: 1.5k

warnings: swearing, cancer, death of a loved one,grief, really really bad eating habits (please be cautious!) mentions of insomnia (?), breakdown, the summer i turned pretty spoilers!!!!! 

a/n: noah kahan’s deluxe album of stick season came out and here we are.psa, i’m declaring cousins is in MA lol & im projecting some of my grief into here as well so pls enjoy!!

GRABBING HER KEYS OFF OF THE SIDE OF HER BEDROOM TABLE,

y/n fisher snuck down the stairs of her house, with the only sound echoing off the walls were her keys jingling as she made her way out, and the door locking behind her.

as she made her way out, she saw her car sitting in the same spot it had been for the past six days.

slowly opening the door to the 98 mustang, y/n got in, before turning the key, and the opening notes to marjorie by taylor swift had started to play. quickly shutting off her radio, the girl took in a shaky breath, trying to keep her composure until she got to her destination.

deciding to hit shuffle on her playlist, y/n gripped the wheel hard before putting the car in reverse, and backing out of her driveway in cambridge massachusetts.

it would take her an hour to get to where she needed to go, but the way she was going, it would take less than that. she was determined to get there as fast as she could, and as quickly as she could away from the house she used to call home.

six weeks, 4 days, and 25 minutes since she last had her mother here. 1,104 hours since she didn’t feel numbness, since she didn’t have blinding rage that turned her into a person she despised. 

46 days since the glue that held her family together came unstuck, and it all fell apart.

ever since susannah fisher had died, the youngest fisher hadn’t been the same.

grief had made her shut down, bursting at the seams with seething rage. the fisher that was known as the kindest girl in cambridge had become inconsolable, angry and resentful towards everyone around her.

she had shut out everyone who tried to get in. her best friend, belly and steven who had tried to call right after susannah had passed, and both of her brothers no matter how hard they both tried.

she was on her own, and it was her own doing. y/n knew it, her best friend grace knew it, hell- her own father who she barely acknowledged knew it.

y/n had always heard that grief changed people, it turned them into people that had been hiding deep down, under anger, sadness, resentment and agony. she never once believed it because she had never seen it. too young, too naive, and too joyful to believe that someone could change that fast at the drop of a hat.

she didn’t believe it until she became that person herself.

resentful, depressed, and in so much agony it caused her physical pain.

y/n could feel the same pain filling her as she cross the sagamore bridge, and soon enough, she was pulling into the same driveway she had left less than a year ago, except back then she had her mother right by her side, in the passenger seat as they drove back home.

exiting the car, she saw the house known as ‘beck’s house’ the same way the fisher’s had left it the summer before. with the flowers they had planted now shriveled up and dead, describing the way y/n felt.

she grabbed the blanket she always kept in the back of the car before making her way down towards the beach, with the sun barely above the horizon. purple, pink and blue painted the sky as the 16 year old wrapped herself tightly in the blanket, reminding her of her mother.

y/n couldn’t escape it. everywhere she went she saw her mother. the starbucks they would stop at everyday her freshman year, the bakery they went to every friday, and even driving the car that was once her mom’s.

everywhere she went, y/n saw susannah fisher.

it made her angry. it made her absolutely furious that everyone else could go on with their lives, with both of their parents and their families happy and joyful. it made her furious that she wouldn’t have her mom there to give her tips on how to do her makeup, to see her off to college, and she wouldn’t be able to have her mom see her in a white gown, walking down the isle as she got married.

everyone else but y/n fisher would be able to experience that.

hot angry tears started to roll down y/n’s fiery cheeks that were filled with rage, and her fists balled up, her short nails digging into her skin as she tried to watch the sunrise, but she couldn’t.

the longer she sat there, the angrier she got, before she finally ripped off her blanket, and stood up.

she looked towards the flower bed her mother always kept towards the beach, with decorative rocks holding them down, before grabbing as many as she could and tossing them into the ocean one at a time, each representing the innocence, and opportunities she had lost.

y/n watched as they sunk into the ocean, representing the sinking feeling she couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard she tried, until her hands were empty, but the agony she felt was still there.

and no matter how hard the youngest fisher tried, it continued to rise until she couldn’t take it anymore.

a scream erupted from her lips as she heard footsteps quickly approaching her, but she refused to see who it was. y/n hands shook as she searched the sand for more rocks, or even sea-shells until she found one, and chucked it as hard as she could into the ocean.

the h/c girl stopped in her position as conrad stood in front of her, stopping her from searching for more things to throw. she could see jeremiah right on the side of conrad, and the concern on their faces scared her.

it was at that moment, she felt the bottle that held all of her grief, shattered.

the hot angry tears turned into agonizing sobs, ones she couldn’t hold off any longer. for the first time since her mothers death, y/n had broke.

she felt conrad's arms wrap around her as her sobs became louder and louder, and jeremiah soon joined in, both fisher boys not realizing how bad y/n had been. grief had slowly been consuming her, and neither of them had seen it.

they both knew she hadn’t been sleeping, and the only thing they ever saw her eating or drinking was the starbucks drink she always had in her hand. the entire family was so wrapped up in their grief, they never saw how bad everyone actually was.

the fisher siblings stood there for a long time, before y/n’s tears had become silent, and y/n and conrad sat there, watching the ocean as jeremiah had run to grab the three’s breakfast from the front porch.

“how long have you been this angry?”conrad questioned as he looked over at the girl, finally taking notice of how bad she looked. she had purple bags under her eyes, and had lost so much weight that to conrad, his little sister had almost become unrecognizable. 

“almost two months.”y/n whispered as jeremiah had come back, with two starbucks bags in his hands for the fisher siblings. conrad stared at the girl as jer gave everyone their items, and y/n took a drink of her refresher, trying to avoid her brothers looks.

“why didn’t you say anything?”jer asked softly, watching as his baby sisters hands shook, and she kept silent for a few moments before finally speaking up.

“sometimes in my mind, the best thing to do is to bottle everything up and wait until i shatter.”the h/c girl explained, sniffing before she took another sip of her drink, “plus i’m not the only one grieving, you two have been as well and i didn’t want to put that on you.”

the fisher brothers shared a look, now knowing how bad things had really gotten for the girl without them realizing it. “when was the last time you slept or ate?”conrad questioned, and y/n shrugged, not really knowing how to answer the question that was presented in front of her.

“i usually try to sleep during the day. everything keeps me up at night.”she whispered, before jeremiah hugged her from the side, leaving the three siblings in silence, except for the waves crashing against the shoreline.

the fisher siblings were back in cousin’s, and everything had stilled. 

[thegoldensanctuary]

Part VII Louis XIV’s Final Summer Set (N⁰ 1984)

The fate of this set is, like its entry, somewhat perplexing as contemporary sources contradict one another. Memorialists of the time claim that instead of inheriting the set, the Duke of Tresmes, First Gentleman of the Room, received financial compensation [162], while the Garde-Meuble, on the other hand, maintains that the Duke did in fact inherit the set alongside those present in the Antechamber and Cabinet [163]. The latter version is the most plausible, as it explains both the absence of set 1984 from the 1729 general inventory and the decision to create a new summer set for the bedchamber upon Louis XV’s return to Versailles in 1723.

Furthermore, the death inventory of the Duke of Tresmes in 1739 mentions a satin Persian-style crimson background, present on the second floor of his townhouse under the number 135 [164], corresponding to the set described in the death inventory of King Louis XIV, which was meant to be inherited by the Duke.

page from the Duke of Tresmes Death Inventory, Number 135 AN MC ET II 473

7.1 The Tapestry Itself

The brocades used in the creation of set 1984 came from earlier deliveries in 1687 and 1688 by the Parisian fabric supplier Charlier. Indeed, at the end of the 1705 entry, we learn that Lallié used brocades numbered 96, 991, 116, and 128 for the bed, seats, footrest cushions, tablecloth, and fire screen, described as “a satin Persian-style brocade,” also referred to as the small-pattern brocade. Brocades 95 and 98, called the large-pattern brocade, were used for the bed and alcove tapestry. These brocades were described on July 23, 1686, as “pieces of brocade one ell wide, with crimson background with patterns of gold and silver in Persian colors” [165]. The delivery of brocade 98 can be traced to February 4, 1687 [166]. Jules Guiffrey reconstructed a more complete description of the brocade by combining elements mentioned in several sources: “Five pieces of rich brocade, one ell wide, with crimson red satin background; featuring compartments, cornucopias, scrolls, and flowers woven in gold and silver, with contours around the ornaments in violet, green, and blue silk, in the Persian style, made by Mr. Charlier of Paris” [167]. For the 1705 delivery, eight pieces of large brocade were destined for the alcove tapestry alongside seven pieces of column brocade. These column brocades were part of a delivery from November 29, 1688, by Gautier and manufactured in Lyon. They were described as “columns of rich brocade with vine branches and grapes, with a base and capital woven in gold and silver, twisted, with musk, on a crimson satin background” [168] and received the number 124. Designs featuring twisted brocade columns were fashionable at the time; Swedish diplomat Cronström even discussed similar ones in his correspondence with Swedish royal architect Tessin, where they considered possible decor for royal apartments in Sweden. Cronström wrote, “One could also take satins from Turin and have twisted columns and borders or friezes made, cut according to the design of Mr. Berain. All of this would be appropriate, new, and in good taste.” Mr. Berain was indeed the royal ornamentalist for the King of France. The column designs Cronström referenced, which he sketched, are now in the Stockholm National Museum collection.

National Museum, Stockholm, NMH CC 1382 recto

This layout, however, differs from the one described in the King’s bedchamber at King Louis XIV’s death, where set 1984 is mentioned with an alcove tapestry of only five pieces of large brocade alongside six pieces of column brocade [169]. Moreover, the dimensions of the alcove tapestry as described in 1705 far exceed the size of the bedchamber’s western wall, given that each large piece of brocade was one French ell wide (1.18m) and the brocade column half that width, totaling 13.6 meters (44.52 ft). This discrepancy suggests set 1984 was used in the Versailles King’s bedchamber almost incidentally rather than as a planned choice. This discrepancy in the alcove layout of 1715 featured only five pieces of the large brocade, each one ell wide, and six pieces of column brocade, each half an ell wide, totaling eight French ells or 9.44 meters (31 ft), which is much closer to the actual dimension of the King’s alcove.

7.2 The Bed

The main element of set 1984 was its state bed, with its impressive dimensions. Its components were:

• No Headboard: None of the descriptions indicate the presence of a headboard.

• The Headcloth: Made of two pieces of the large brocade according to the 1705 Garde-Meuble diary [170] and four according to the 1715 death inventory [171].

• The Valences: Both the 1705 and 1715 entries spare details on the main fabric used, only noting crimson satin lining. It could be inferred that they were crimson to match the background of the brocade. Large gold fringes formed festoons at the bottom [172], and this style of valence, different from the previously used campanes, was increasingly popular at the time. Similar ones appear in a painting by Louis Silvestre depicting Louis XIV Receiving the Prince Elector of Saxony in his Fontainebleau bedchamber near the end of his life.

: Louis XIV reçoit à Fontainebleau le prince-électeur de Saxe, 27 septembre 1714, Louis de Silvestre and Hyacinthe Rigaud, oil on canvas, 1715, 120 x 155 cm, Château de Versailles, MV 4344

• The Curtains: Two bonnes grâces, four curtains, and two cantonières are mentioned, with gold fringes at the edges and bottom, lined with the same fabric. The brocade used is not specified, but we can infer that it was the smaller pattern given that the headcloth, mentioned afterward, is said to have been of “the larger pattern brocade,” implying the curtains were not.

• The Quilt: See above.

• The Case Curtain: Made of crimson gros de Tours taffeta, with gold fringes at the bottom and edges, hanging from a golden rod.

• The Columns: The two front columns were placed in a sheath of large-pattern brocade.

• The Vases/Finials: Four in total (one at each corner), filled with feathers and covered in the large-pattern brocade.

7.3 The Armchairs and Stools

Two armchairs were included in the 1705 delivery [173] and three in 1715 [174]. We can assume that an additional armchair was added once the set was transferred to the bedchamber, possibly used with the table. They were garnished with gold fringes at the bottom, and their wood was surprisingly painted red with gold floral decorations. The brocade used was the small pattern, specifically brocades 96, 99, 116, and 128 as described on July 23, 1686: “Two pieces of brocade, two feet wide, with crimson background and elevated patterns in gold and silver with Persian colors” [175]. In 1886, Jules Guiffrey attempted to enhance that vague description by referencing entries from the brocade chapter of the 1729 general inventory and brocade discharges from set 1984, creating this more precise description of the small pattern brocade of number 96: “Two pieces of brocade, two feet wide, with crimson satin background, cornucopias, rinceaux, and flowers of elevated gold and silver, with outlines in green and purple silk, in the Persian style, from the Charlier manufacture in Paris” [176]. The specifics of the colors are consistent with brocade discharges noted at the end of the entry for set 1984 [177].

The twelve folding stools were similar in terms of brocade and style to the armchairs, with gold fringes and woods painted in red with some gilded ornaments.

6.4 The Fire Screen

The fire screen was similar to the seats, with the small-pattern brocade, gold braids around the edges, and wood painted to match the fabric. A braid with a lead pear covered with gold bouquets is also mentioned [178].

7.5 The Table and Tablecloth

The set came with a tablecloth made of the smaller brocade, with fringes on the sides and at the bottom, lined with taffeta, along with a red leather table rug with gold fringes. The table mentioned in the 1715 death inventory under these tablecloths was likely the fir table previously listed in the 1708 inventory and used with set 1379 (see Part 6.6) [179].

7.6 The Portières Tapestries

At the time of the 1705 delivery, no portières were included, and they only appear in the 1715 death inventory [180]. They were made from five pieces of brocade each and described as “assorted to the one of the bed.” Each of the four doors was equipped with one, embellished with gold fringes on their sides, and lined with crimson taffeta.

6.7 The Portieres Tapestries

At the time of the 1705 delivery, no portieres were included; they are only mentioned in the 1715 death inventory [160]. Made from five pieces of brocade each and “assorted to the one on the bed,” each of the four doors was equipped with one. They were embellished with gold fringes on their sides and lined with crimson taffeta.

[135] AN O1/3308 f⁰ 9 r⁰

[136] AN O1/3298 folder 3, item 4, f⁰ 1

[137] Verlet 1961 and Castelluccio 2016 mention set 1379 while omitting set 1984, while Meyer 1980 and Richard 2018 mention set 1984 while omitting set 1379.

[138] Hans 2022 confuses sets 1379 and 1984 and provides a description combining elements from both sets.

[139] AN O1/3308 f⁰ 9 r⁰

[140] Ibid f⁰ 134

[141] AN O1/3298 folder 3, item 4, f⁰ 2 v⁰

[142] The folio 135 of the 1705 Garde-Meuble diary (AN O1/3308) is missing.

[143] Saint-Simon, tome XXIII, p. 213; Dangeau Journal, éd. E. Soulié, Paris, Firmin Didot, 1854-1860, tome XVII, p. 177

[144] AN O1/3298 folder 3, item 2

[145] AN MC/ET/II 473

[146] AN O1/3306 f⁰ 31 v⁰

[147] Ibid f⁰ 59 v⁰

[148] Guiffrey, Jules. Inventaire général du mobilier de la couronne sous Louis XIV (1663-1715), deuxième partie. Paris: Au siège de la société, 1886, p. 198

[149] Ibid f⁰ 111 r⁰

[150] AN O1/3298

[151] AN O1/3308 f⁰ 7 v⁰

[152] AN O1/3298

[153] AN O1/3308 f⁰ 7 v⁰

[154] AN O1/3308 f⁰ 7 v⁰

[155] AN O1/3298

[156] AN O1/3306 f⁰ 31 v⁰

[157] Guiffrey, Inventaire général du mobilier de la couronne sous Louis XIV, 1886 edition, vol. 2, p. 198

[158] AN O1/3308 f⁰ 8 r⁰

[159] Ibid

[160] Ibid

[idontknowmyownmind]

RokCale

With Cale as the clingy boyfriend who like to be close with his Rok Soo, always went for physical contacts and harmless flirt

And with Rok Soo who seemingly passive but actually very attentive, letting Cale do whatever he want and respond to all his flirt

One day, Cale got dared to ignore Rok Soo for a whole day

No hugs. No kisses. No 'morning, babe'

Everytime Rok Soo try to come near, Cale will steer away, pretending to not hear his calls

It can end wholesome, with a sprinkle of angst, or smutty, depends on my brain and mood 🤭

+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/

RokCale

Cale has a multiple personality disorder, Cain, who believe that they are separate person and twin

Many people, those who don't know the Henituse better, also believe that Cale and Cain are different people

Rok Soo who loves both of them, torn because he also believe that they are twin

Poor man thinking he loves two people, twin at that, and have been in morale dilemma and conflicting heart

+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/

RokCale

Yandere x Yandere

🚩x🚩

Stalker x Stalker

Cale who stalk Rok Soo and know everything about him

Cale who always got updated on Rok Soo

Rok Soo who know that Cale is stalking him and relish on his attention on him

Rok Soo who 98% of his gallery is Cale photos

Rok Soo who have his wall full of them

+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/

RokCale

With them trapped in endless circle of reincarnation as strangers turn lovers in every life with their memories emerge when they reach 15 or 18

With them suddenly reborn as twin/sibling

+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/

RokCale

40y.o Cale who never made a deal with GoD

Somehow became a 'ghost' and for some reason tied to Rok Soo's mother since she was a child

No one ever able to see him

Until Rok Soo born and how he always has his eyes on him when he hover over him

Cale realized that Rok Soo can see him

Change his form to match Rok Soo's age since he was 1y.o

Always staying beside him when everyone he cherish eventually perish

Rok Soo only comfort and companion for a long time

Cale realized that he only visible to Rok Soo when need him or no one he cherish stay beside him

After Rok Soo met Soo Hyuk and Jung Soo, the frequency of his presence decreses

Rok Sok realized late and brainwashed himself that he always need Cale and he never trully cherish anyone

+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/

RokCale

Rok Soo who has second identity

Cale who in love with his second identity

Rok Soo who love Cale and got rejected, without knowing that Cale loves his second identity

+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/

RokCale

Your Name AU

Them from different world rather than different time

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RokCale

Rok Soo has chronic illness

Want to enjoy every bits of his short life

Want to spend his last moment surrounded with his beloved people

Cale who know

Cale who suddenly dissapear days before Rok Soo last days

Rok Soo who is sad and heartbroken but pretend to be fine

Misunderstanding between them and his people

No one know where Cale is

No one know about his family so they can't contact them

On Rok Soo last day, coincides with their anniversary

Hans, Cale loyal butler, visit his room and present him a flower bouquet and a letter, saying it's from Cale

Rok Soo's people angry and dissapointed almost convince Rok Soo to refuse

But he want to know about his love

As he read the letter, the harder it is for him to breath and the worse his heart pained

Cale as a heir of one of the biggest and richest family in the world is no stranger to assassination attempts

He feels eyes on him, not the first but it's different

He just know that it's different and something bad will happen to him

So he prepare the flower and letter and instruct Hans to give it to Rok Soo at spesific date

[Rok Soo is a securely guarded secret of Cale, only a handful people he trust know about him]

And truth to his words, this time assassionation attempt is a succeed

+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/

RokCale

They are lovers and somehow got their soul transmigrated into random bodies, still the same world

They don't know that they both got transmigrated

Spy on their original body and see them still lovey dovey, more intimate

Misunderstand that their lover like whoever inhabite their body more than them

They somehow meet, become close, fall in love (in denial because they don't want to betray their love)

Heartbreaking and misunderstands moments before they found out that all this time they always together and whoever in their body is not who they think they are

+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/

RokCale

You know that manhwa where the mc died and transmigrated into a game?

Rok Soo, a gamer who died because some pompous chaebol lost to him in VR game

Transmigrated into the game as an npc

For earthlings, it's a game. But it's actually real, somehow

Met Cale and fall in love

Want a revenge on that fucker, he has years before the 'game' start

Surprise, there is his character who is played by 'him'

So there are 2 Rok Soo

Idk, I just want 2 Rok Soo to fight over Cale lol

+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/

RokCale

Bungou Stray Dogs: Beast AU

In Beast, Dazai made many worlds where Odasaku can live a life he desire even though he need to sacrifice many things using The Book

Dazai: Rok Soo

Odasaku: Soo Hyuk & Jung Soo

Chuuya: Cale

Chuuya is Dazai's right hand man who is very loyal

In this AU, Rok Soo and Cale are lovers and loves each other

Rok Soo's loves for Cale and his hyungs is different kind of loves, but undoubtly true

Rok Soo who lost his hyungs only has Cale that keep him going, he is someone who always stay on his side, in his high and lowest point of life

When he heard about The Book, he went on a hunt for it and Cale support it all his journey

He somehow got a hand on it and create many worlds until he found one where his hyungs are alive

What he is not aware is the karma of using The Book (this is not canon)

Someone who is emotionally tune with Rok Soo and have a close and strong bond with him will also retain the memories of the original world (outside the book)

But Cale hide this fact from Rok Soo

Let's say that in some worlds Rok Soo create, there are where Cale is needed as the sacrifice to make his desired world come true

In Cale's eyes, Rok Soo never hesistate as long as it increase the chance to make a world where his hyungs is there

In Cale's perspective, no matter how much Rok Soo loves him, he will never be his first choice no matter how much he did and sacrified for him

Cale also jealous and insecure, watching how far Rok Soo could go for Soo Hyuk and Jung Soo

+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/

RokCale

Modern AU

Cafe barista Rok Soo and regular customer Cale

Their relationship somehow developed, it's slow burn

With Cale has unique body condition where he is immune to any poison unless it's in large dose or he need to consume certain dose of poison once a day

One day, Cale accidently drop or forget a pack of 'sugar'

Rok Soo who think that it's regular sugar pick it up and add it into Soo Hyuk's drink when they are home

Soo Hyuk got poisoned and when they asked where Rok Soo got the 'sugar', he told them that it's the 'sugar' Cale always add to his drink

Implying that all this time, Cale has been consuming poison

+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/

RokCale

Sibling/Twin AU

With Cale rarely at home

Not much is known about him

No really fond with his family (other than Roksu) (the feeling you have for distant relatives you rarely seen)

Since their mother's death, he never really call his family with their proper titles (expect Roksu)

Those who caught a glimpse of him will see him as a cold person, somehow blanker than Roksu

It's quite the opposite, but Cale will be a very different person when he's with Roksu

[raviliuz]

Marcus Flint's tattoos

Okay so, I mentioned a few times that in my headcanons Marcus didn't end up playing professional quidditch. Instead he got a job at a tattoo studio in Knockturn Alley, and later on Cassius Warrington bought that studio. They've completely redesigned it and successfully run the business since then

And well, most tattoo artists have many tattoos themselves so here I am, with headcanon about Marcus' tattoos

(in order of getting them btw)

1) a little stick and poke tattoo of a ghost above his wrist ('93)

He had it done during the summer of '93, after he had gotten disowned. It was one of the first tattoos Cassius ever did (16yo in his bedroom, mind you) and it's not the best, Marcus already had it redone as ink got lighter in some parts. The ghost is a symbol of Marcus Flint dying, as part of him did die with his decision to leave. It's a new beginning. Ghost is smiling, much more than Marcus was back then, it's happy to just be a ghost of the past, not a suicidal teenager anymore

2) of course he has a quidditch-related tattoo ('94)

It's a quaffle with a magpie print on it as Montrose Magpies is his favourite team since he was a little kid. Marcus has it on his ribs (broken so many times because of quidditch). He had it done professionally by his boss right after his employment. He chose art career path but quidditch was still important to him, always will be, and he wanted to combine his two passions.

3) fig flowers below his collarbone ('94)

It's a Terence Higgs tribute. Marcus really wanted something relating to Terence. Terry is his closest friend and literally saved his life many times and he wouldn't be there without him. But he wanted it to be pretty and not so obvious because it's cringe. He just thought that Higgs sounds similar to "figgs" hence fig flowers. Marcus chose flowers because they're prettier but after that Adrian made up a meaning behind it. That tattoo was related to their friendship, ongoing since they were kids and they stuck together for so many difficult years, surprisingly turning out great and mature and rather healthy. They were troubled teenagers but end up as healthy adults. They BLOSSOMED, you know

4) a teardrop made of flint on his throat ('96)

Another one about his development as a person, of him redefining himself. He's still a Flint but created anew, hewn by himself and his experiences. The shape is supposed to simulate smooth spear blade as first of all, his name comes from Mars, the god of war, and second, when he was younger his default emotion was anger. He thought crying was a sign of weakness (toxic masculinity at its worst) so he turned to anger and hatred and violence. And while adult Marcus isn't the most open and it's hard for him to talk about emotions, he's doing much better.

He created the design and symbolism behind this tattoo while heavily drunk, didn't remember it when he woke up, luckily he drew it and made notes he found the next day and thought it's weird but he's weird so it's perfect

5) a red line dragon on his shoulder blade ('97)

Matching tattoo with Cassius Warrington. In their tattoo studio there's that exact dragon on the wall. Marcus made a project of it and Cass created that mural with red spray paint. They got it tattooed by each other on the first anniversary of rebranding the studio and opening it. Marcus has it on his shoulder blade and Cass on his ribs

6) a very sappy matching with Oliver after their engagement ('98)

Oncoming war made them realised how uncertain tomorrow is. They got engaged and wanted something more lasting, they were sure of each other after their complicated relationship during their teenage years but 4 happy years together. And it had to be related to quidditch as it was important not only to the both of them separately but also them as a couple and their relationship. Marcus has a goalpost with "my goal" under it and Oliver has a quaffle with the same text, both over their hearts.

Marcus' goal in quidditch as a chaser is to score at goalposts. Oliver's goal as a keeper is to catch the quaffle. It obviously symbolises each other position in quidditch, they are each other final goal (relationship goal if you will), they wouldn't make sense without each other

7) tangled snake on his forearm ('98)

It's a reinterpretation of Slytherin and the dark mark. After the war, everyone became wary of snakes and Slytherins, and while Marcus understood that, he hated it. Being a slytherin didn't mean being a bad person and he knew how stereotypes like that could affect kids sorted to Slytherin. It was making monsters. If you did nothing wrong but everyone thought you're bad, why would you even try, you slowly become sure they have a reason. So yeah, it was his way of reowning it and showing he's proud of being a slytherin (and not a deatheater)

Bonus about Cassie Warrington

Cassius Warrington is tatted all over his body, most of it is meaningless. Some are pretty, some are just reminiscent of training on himself, hell some are dares and jokes. He looks like the last page in a notebook of a bored kid and he loves it

But one more meaningful one and done professionally (other than that matching dragon with Flint):

Cassie has ouroboros tattooed on his neck, going around it and eating itself at the back (he started to cut his hair shorter so it would be visible). Ouroboros meaning is life cycle and it's kind of Cassius' way of saying yolo, in a way that yeah, he has only one life but in world scale it's meaningless, cycle will continue with or without him, so it should be meaningful to him by doing things he loves and wants. Also, it's specifically the pueblan milk snake because Cassie totally has a pet snake and pueblan milk snake was his first one (it's great for beginners and really flashy, I like it)

Life update, I love uni, it's so cool, 2nd year psychology student here, also I'm in science club and I have an awesome opportunity to do workshops with teens at locat city library and it's so cool and fulfilling

[animeisforanimation]

Tristamp Party. Day 1. Episode 1.

Let’s start from the beginning.

I adore stories set in space. The country I was born in is famous - among other, way less pleasant things - for a generation of kids dreaming of becoming astronauts. Or maybe it’s Star Wars that brought me the fascination with giant ships taking over the screen, voyaging into the placed yet unknown?

Anyways, by the time Stampede aired I still haven’t watched 98 or read the manga but it was a story I knew about and had a lot of expectations of. But I did not expect these:

The way these ships float into the screen, the size of them, the grandeur! It reminded me of Dune even before we got to the desert planet and the giant warms. And then the design of the ships! Someone has pointed out it really looks like angel arm which is fantastic, but at first they look more like fish or flowers drifting through space. Fantastical, whimsical even, otherworldly.

All in all, I was blown away.

-

And then there was Rem.

Sorry, I’ll skim over the scene of baby Vash saying hello to the people in cryosleep - a hauntingly beautiful one! - and move right to REM because she was a final nail in my coffin. The music and sound design is beautiful, Maaya Sakamoto is fantastic as usual, but what makes this scene stand out are microexpressions.

We’ve known her for what? a minute? But I joined in with her tears. I ached for her.

Now, after Trimax, I do have things to complain about, for one, she sure is less of an Ellen Ripley now. And yet, when I rewatch Tristamp, I cry. Every. Single. Time. That’s strong!

-

And now back to the twins. I’m sure someone else have already talked about that, but the blocking is immaculate: We almost never see Kni’s face, his emotions, reactions.

This shot is my favorite. If you pay attention, you can almost see him clenching teeth. Or maybe you’re just looking too closely and projecting at this point? Who knows.

And then there’s this one!

We’re only privy to determination with which he jumps into the pod - and then almost blank expression when he invites Rem to join them. After her decision to stay, though - nothing. There’s only poor anguished Vash - and a blank wall of black hair.

I wonder, if this trick has already fulfilled its purpose when we saw Kni laughing over the debris and learned of his role - or if we’ll see more of the twins’ childhood, more of this boy that becomes Millions Knives, more of his manga self.

I kinda wish we do~ but whether it comes to be or not, this first scene of Trigun Stampede did exactly what it should have: it sucked me into this world and here I am a year later, deep in the sands of this planet in all of its incarnations.

[toxooz]

The canvases aren’t even safe 😭 they used the Boroque era as reference for their search engines. Like I’m losing my shit constantly over ai art so bad. Like this is totally gonna be a rant so forgive me but it’s driving up the WALLS. Ai art being readily available is killing the incentive for people to be creative. I cannot tell you how many times I think I’ve found a really cool fellow artist on tiktok and then see #midjourney. I take psychic damage every time that happens to me. And I’m starting to see it infiltrating business too where they generate ai images instead of hire photographers. I also saw someone selling tshirts with ai art on it at my local farmers market. MOTHERFUCKER THE FARMERS MARKET??? HAVE YOU NO SHAME????

NAW PREACH IT cause its become a nagging issue for me for a while that i simply try to not think about and dwell on but dear FUCKING god is it everywhere and it's painfully obvious too! just about every ad takes me 3 seconds to find damning evidence that its ai and im 99% ready to just delete facebook bc #1 i dont give a fuck abt anyone on there anymore and #2 Literally every other post is the most deplorable ai shit ive ever seen that everyone is carelessly oblivious to i mean total abominations that don't make any sense as an image but ppl share bc its the most bottom of the barrel ''relatable'' shit and that's just the sad reality of it is most people don't even give a shit what they're looking at as long as it looks pretty to their eyes for 3 seconds they don't give a damn

and that's just on basic everyday world shit like u said there's so many mfs i think are decent artists where i legitimately cant tell its ai until i read their fuckshit bio or somethin, like that midjourney i didnt even know it was an ai program i would've just thought it was the name of a video game or some shit! like I feel like I'm kinda turning my back on the whole art community involuntarily bc i just dont trust any image i see most of the time and its fukkin sad i ESPECIALLY feel for the real artists prior to this shitshow who have art styles that now look so much like ai that they basically hijacked to feed the machine like I couldn't imagine spending thousands of dollars on an art college and hours of practice just for your art style to be The Blueprint for empty soulless photos cranked out at inhuman rates by any stupid fucking lazy ass clown like Fuck Man it all sucks so much and the worst part is I just feel like it's one of those things where it will not stop until Something caves and i honestly dont know which one it will be but i just know its only going to get worse idk i try to remember that i can pick up a paintbrush or even whatever the hell i want and make something beautiful while 98% of these ai sacks of shit are just limited to stealing other peoples art on the internet and they couldn't even paint a damn flower if their lives depended on it and if i was stuck on a deserted island I'd probably still find ways to make art with whatever tools and resources i have cause that's an artist baybay but as far as The Internet and its grasp it has on the world and trying to make it as a digital artist and trying to make money from your homemade artwork is very grim man and dont even get me started on art and artists in just about every job field rn my heart goes out to them

[veradragonjedi]

alright here i go

for the weird ask: 5, 11, 18, 20, 30, 33, 44, 55, 61, 69, 76, 83, 94, 98

(mwahahahaa)

omg

5. Do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

Cans... that little *crrrk* *hissssss.......* augh!! And then you can crunch them when you're done. Marvellous. Thank you inventor of the aluminium can.

11. What do you have for breakfast on an average day?

Salmon bagel :))

18. Ideal weather?

WARM! Let my bones rest 😭 warm very warm but with shade and cold drinks and all that jazz.

20. Preferred place to write?

My phooone. No laptop, though a note pad suffices if my phone is out of reach. All 300k words of bbb (that's plus unposted possible chapters) was done on my phone. with my fingers.

30. Places you find sacred?

THIS PLACE!

BIG tree! Hundreds of years old. Four swings hanging from the branches! Howw many people sat there? Carved their names into it to be immortalised, swung on those swings?? The energy there.

I'm not a religious person, but if I were, I'd worship the tree.

33. Most used phrase in your phone?

Augh this one's difficult because it implies I am conscious of what I put down but its probably omg

Like on its own. Or HELP that one's common.

44. Favourite scent for soap?

I bought @airlocksandaviaries some nice soap one time and bought myself some Lily-of-the-Valley soap. And I have Not used mine because I like the scent so much...

55. Favourite fairytale?

Always been a fan of the tragic ones. The ones that were originally deep and dark and nasty, before they became Disney-fied. The original Rapunzel was nice, not that I don't like the new one, but it was nice. The original message behild Little Red Riding Hood — a young girl flowering into womanhood who is approached by a strange older man who wants to make her his — has always fascinated me because !!! Argh beast metaphors and hunger and. Yeaaahhhh bbbcore..

61. Favourite flowers?

Orchids are nice. Tulips were for a while!

Recently I found THESE

Black petunias!! I tool them because they're JUST LIKE ME FR! And they smell awful, like burnt rubber and bleach, but I LOVE THEM!!!!!!

69. A Fun Fact that you don't know how you learned?

@chaetophractus-vellerosus — most doors are universally 6 foot 9 inches, so it's easy to guess someone's height based on whether they have to bend through a door. Finch, I asked my friend where we had found that out, and apparently I knew it Before we had used it to work out Drew Gooden's height. So. I actually dunno where the information came from.... got that doortism though.

76. Favourite potato food?

AAAUGGHGH POTATOEEESSSS!!!!!!!! I like fried potatoes, I had real patatas fritas like a month ago and almost died it was so tasty. I like all manner of potatoes though. Give me the potatoes...

83. Writing or Drawing?

Both? Both!! I absolutely adore putting my thoughts onto a canvas. Whether that be a digital one where I'm throwing notes at a wall and seeing what sticks or a physical one where I'm just figuring everything out by swiping paint on white paper.

94. Favourite season?

SUMMER! Ironic because in Britain we (used to...) don't get very hot summers. We're almost there folks!

98. Favourite historical era?

A question I'm not sure I know the answer to! Dropped history almost as soon as I started it, to take geography instead, so I'm gonna say the devonian era and be done with that:)) (that's when bony fish were evolved and doing their thing with no dinosaurs to tell them what not to do)

CHOCO. I LOVE YOUU !!!!!

[sekaiichi-happy]

Hello!

Qhat are your fav Hello Project songs? As many as you want to list + I don't mind obscure ones or ones from not main groups (a lot of my favs were from shuffle unit projects lol)

Oooh that's a fun & challenging question! I have a lot of favorites, so I added the list after the 'read more'. Making this list made me wish they'd just put the H!P songs on Spotify already ; . ;

I also loved the shuffle units! Especially a lot they did around the time of 2009, those were so much fun <3

(I bolded my ultimate favorites :P)

Morning Musume

Mr. Moonlight ~Ai no Big Band~

Wagamama

Suki na Senpai

Kimagure Princess

Onna to Otoko no Lullaby Game

Waratte! You

A Memory of Summer '98

Souda! We're Alive

Shabondama

Kono Chikyuu no Heiwa wo Honki de Negatterun dayo!

Wagamam Ki no Mama Ai no Joke

Tatoeba

21seiki

Songs

Berryz Koubou

Maji Natsu Sugiru

Semi

Sakura -> Nyuugakushiki

Grand Demo Rouka Demo Medatsu Kimi

Otakebi Boy Wao!

Icchoume Rock!

Maji Bomber!!

Himitsu no U.ta.hi.me

Seishun Bus Guide

Cha Cha Sing

C-ute

Bokura no Kagayaki

Akogare My Star

Forever Love

Dance de Bakoon!

Chou Wonderful!

Wasuretakunai Natsu

The Treasure Box

Attakai Ude de Tsutsunde

Sekaiichi Happy na Onna no KO

Kiss me Aishiteru

Buono!

Honto no Jibun

Last Forever

Ice Mermaid

Rock no Kamisama

Rottara Rottara

Goal

Urahara

Warp!

Nakimushi Shounen

Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

My Alright Sky

Take it easy!

S/mileage

Ama no Jaku

Suki-chan

Shortcut

Yumemiru 15sai

Misc.

Tenkiyohou ga Atattara - Erina Mano

Sekai wa Summer Party - Erina Mano

Carina Notte - Karin Miyamoto

Reserve - Karin Miyamoto

Usagi Tocome - Karin Miyamoto

Momoiro Kataomoi - Aya Matsuura

Romantic Ukare Mode - Miki Fujimoto

For you... - Linlin

Kiiroi Osora de Boom Boom Boom - Kiiro 5

Koisuru Angel Heart - V-u-den

Robo Kiss - W

Oujisama to Yuki no Yoru - Tanpopo

Gatamekira - T&C Bomber

Uchuu de La Ta Ta - T&C Bomber

Onegai Miwaku no Target - Melon Kinenbi

(C/C) Cinderella Complex - High-King

Yume to Genjitsu - Aa!

Yes-Yes-Yes - Aa!

Ai Ai Gasa - Juice=Juice

Ijiwaru Shinaide Dakishimete yo - Juice=Juice

Isogaba Maware - Kobushi Factory

Shunrenka - Tsubaki Factory

Forget-Me-Not ~Watashi wo Wasurenai de~ - Lilium Musical

Shoujo Junketsu - Lilium Musical

+ Bonus (might not exactly be H!P, but it counts to me)

Dare ni mo Naisho - Bitter & Sweet

Kikkake wa You! - Yuu Kikkawa

Konna Atashi de Yokattara - Yuu Kikkawa

Top Secret - Hangry & Angry

Wall Flower - Hangry & Angry

Angelia - Hangry & Angry

[my-little-corner-of-hc]

Now I don’t talk about this boy too much because Vash 98 was my first ever anime crush so he held my heart hostage but still thought I’d talk about him before I toss up a new fandom hc up.

Knives I’m only going to be talking about stampede Knives because 98 Knives personality can basically be summarized as he’s the bad guy. Now when it comes to Knives in a relationship I think a lot of people (myself included) jump to the route of least resistance which is to make him yandere which while fun really does hamstring him a bit. Not saying we can’t have our fun but I think his relationship with someone who willing wants to be with him would be very different. Knives hard walls himself from being outwardly emotional only letting little moments slip through and even then it’s not the full picture.Man wants to be loved, he wants safety and warmth but he shoots himself in the foot out of fear of being vulnerable.

If I have to toss in my two cents Knives needs someone with a lot of patience (saintly even) to deal with him but also someone who can read between his lines and has enough tact to be able to call out his bullshit when need be which is a problem for someone like him who likes control and being seated at the top of his relationship. He doesn’t like feeling like he’s being undermined even if the other person is right but it’s one of those things where in order for him to grow as a person he really needs someone who can shake up his status quo.He doesn’t need someone who views him as a god or some untouchable being but a person a hurt person.

That aside, once he and his partner have been together for a while they start to see his sweet side. Feels like the kind of guy where flowers mysteriously appear on your doorstep and he denies it the whole time it was him. He’s also the kind that will move heaven and earth to make something happen for his partner especially if he believes it’s for their best interest.A lot of people paint Vash as the love bug but I want to say this Vash shows it more outwardly (especially 98 Vash) but that doesn’t mean Knives isn’t he doesn’t show it the same way. If the man’s in love he’s love where Vash showers his partner in nicknames, Knives always thinks of his partner that sort of thing.

[pansexualkiba]

@panda-monium64 you've opened the floodgates. Get ready for some shit.

PART TWO OF A SERIES. I'LL HAVE A MASTERPOST UP LATER.

TOUHOU SEISONOMOTO ~ GARDEN OF ETERNITY

I'll give you three guesses what the focal point of this one is.

Fun fact! As originally planned, this story would not only be happening SIMULTANEOUSLY to WDI, but also, for some reason, to Marine Benefit, a fangame I have no affiliation with due to being in MIDDLE SCHOOL when it was released. Because it was "developed" directly after WDI, but the characters were essentially revealed at the same time, I just sorta now place them as happening consecutively.

The plot: A giant fucking walled garden has appeared along the edges of the border, somewhere between the Sanzu and the Netherworld (so not directly beneath it). Nothing has happened yet, but people are curious and want to know what's in this weird garden. This has a bit of a Subterranean Animism type thing where the subshot you pick gives you dialogue with a second character whose "faction" wants you to investigate.

Because the theme is the garden, all of the important characters are essentially plant youkai. Of course, there's a bit of cringe here and there since they were also made in middle school. Let's start here.

ENCHOU TSUTA Creeping Plant of Antiquity Species: Ivy Youkai Ability: Capable of extending her limbs The guard of the Garden of Eternity. Due to her ability and stalwart personality, she was given the position of gatekeeper by the garden's boss. She, like many residents of the garden, awoke as youkai after many years of unstopped growth. As such, she can be considered the progenitor of all vine-like plants. Unfortunately, none of this meant anything to the protagonist's strength. She was quickly defeated in short order.

I actually genuinely like this girl? Idk what it is. The cool name, the fact that I made her hair decoration be a ribbon that looks like poison ivy leaves... She's got it all. The fact that I made her some random guard that gets Got in Stage 1 is more or less because I was a real PC-98 truther back then and I wanted to call back to Mystic Square, where the exact same thing happened to Sara. Anyways, now that we have canonical vine bullets, it's a lot easier for me to imagine how Enchou's attacks would actually look.

KOURIKO TANPOPO Snow Flower in July Species: Dandelion Youkai Ability: Capable of causing snowfall A Western-style dandelion youkai. She had desired to see snow right before she had awoken as a youkai. As such, she awakened a snow-bringing power when she awoke. She's completely unaware this is her doing, however, and she just wants to dance around in the unseasonable blizzard. Despite representing both flowering and seeding forms of the dandelion at the same time, she's still quite weak. As such, her threat level as an invasive species really isn't that high. As a side note, she's begun a lucrative business selling "dandelion tea" blends.

This was my favorite back in the day (lol). She's just a little guy, your honor. A little birthday girl. That last name, tho... Yikes. You'll soon find every single girl in this section is named after their plant unless further pointed out. This ended up being the naming convention for the Beast Realm Matriarchs in canon, so, uh... Whoops? Also, I think she reappears in the phantasmagoria-type. (Why did I put dandelion tea in quotes... It is tea. Why am I suspicious of this?)

MIRYOKU MOUSENGOKE Insectivorous Flower Species: Sundew Youkai Ability: Manipulation of attraction A youkai of a carnivorous flower. Her personality is to draw in insects before eating them whole. As such, she's rather like a fisherwoman. Her ability refers to not only her ability to spew insect-attracting pheromones, but also gravitational and electromagnetic attraction as well. As such, she's actually rather dangerous, despite her rather placid nature. She attacked the protagonist because she accidentally thought they were prey. It's sort of a parable of biting off more than you can chew, in that regard.

Another girl that tries to eat the protag... What was going on back then. Anyways, this girl is like, HELLA dangerous. I like how like, the edgy bits came in WDI in the latter half, but this chick is just here as THE edgy bitch in GoE. Fun fact, this girl did some cocomelon shit to me so bad that I made one of my personal e-mails one of her Spell Cards despite having NO REASON to do that. That's the power of carnivorous plants, I guess.

FUKU INABA Sake-Drunk Rabbit Species: Rabbit Ability: Capable of controlling alcohol levels A subordinate of Tewi Inaba. She was sent to investigate the garden, but was caught by Miryoku, along with a couple other youkai. Thanks to the protagonist, they were all freed, but Fuku needs to finish her investigation. With that, she attacked. -- INOE HIGASHIOKA Spice-Laden Tengu Species: White wolf Tengu Ability: Capable of tripling an object A white wolf tengu sent as a scout. Acting under orders from Lord Tenma himself, she entered the garden and was captured for food. Luckily, the protagonists freed her, so she was free to continue her scouting mission. She attacks Reimu out of a misplaced annoyance for Aya. Her ability does not extend to living things, but it does extend to gases, so she's extremely good at smokescreens. -- SANMI FUKUMURA Red-Meat Human Species: Human Ability: Capable of using magic stones A human from the outside world. She found herself wandering into Gensokyo sometime during the Foreign Youkai Incident. She is currently employed at the Scarlet Devil Manor as an assistant to Patchouli. She was sent to look into the garden by Remilia, but she was caught easily. She was just on her was out when she was attacked. -- SUIKIN TAKISHIMA Mineral-Rich Kappa Species: Kappa Ability: Capable of manipulating ores A scout sent by the kappa. She got into the garden just fine, but was captured by Miryoku. Luckily, the protagonist set her and a couple other inhabitants free. As thanks, Suikin offered to take over the investigation, but was promptly shot down.

The stage 4 midboss squad!!! Which one you face is dependent on who you have as your subshot. Their main purpose is to show that a good chunk of people have their eyes on the garden, and also to have jokes in their titles about how they were almost fucking eaten alive. I think of these four, Sanmi was the one that my friend liked the most? Very odd, that, but what can you do. I guess that's the power of the SDM.

DONNA BELLA Flower of Cassandra Species: Nightshade Youkai Ability: Capable of seeing the future A nightshade youkai that can foresee future events. She did, indeed, foresee that the garden would arrive, and indeed, foresaw not only the protagonist's arrival, but also her own defeat. The problem is that no one believes her visions. She's learned a little trick, however: if she phrases her visions just right, people will still believe them. The way to do this is to phrase her visions as the opposite of what will actually happen, so that people believe the contrary, and therefore the real vision. With that in mind, she set off to actively guide the protagonist to the main boss of the garden, as their aimless rampaging through the area would do no good to anyone. Not that anyone would believe her if she gave her real reason. Later, she showed up to help lead the protagonist to Tsukiko, to minimize property damage first and foremost.

THIS NAME........ THIS NAAAAAME......... BELLADONNA. DONNA BELLA. I mitigated my embarrassment at the time by making her theme title Italian... My little ass thought I was being SOOO CLEVER... Anyways this is a very fun weird inversion of Sagume's powers - Sagume actively cannot tell the truth, because the inverse of that will happen. Meanwhile, Donna's ability means that people won't believe her visions, so she lies so people believe the opposite. I just thought that was very funny. It's also pure luck they're both Stage 4 bosses - remember, I made this batch in middle school. Ten Desires was the hot new thing back then.

KUSURI KESHI Bitter Medicine Species: Poppy Youkai Ability: Capable of causing hallucinations The youkai of an opium poppy. She is the boss of all the poppies in the garden, especially in her field. She can put humans to sleep if she has enough of her subordinates working in tandem. However, they're all too laid-back and disorganized for this formation to ever actually work. Her ability lets her create the illusion of shifting shapes, but like all hallucinations, this vanishes when you reach for it. She actually has no relation to the overall incident, but she happened to be in the way of the protagonists.

Remember when I said I was an edgy middle schooler? My stupid little ass went "yeah let's put DRUGS in Touhou". Not as bad as it could have been, really? I sorta also mixed in the poppy field from The Wizard of Oz into this girl as well. I think it's sorta funny that I pointed out that she just has literal no fucking relationship to anyone in the hierarchy of the Garden, she's just sorta Just A Guy. Normally the unrelated mooks are stage 1 fodder.

SHIGAI HIGANBANA Necro-Romantic Corpse Flower Species: Rafflesia Youkai Ability: Capable of manipulating corpses The youkai of a rafflesia plant. Long ago, the Garden of Eternity was watched over by two humans. However, they were given knowledge, and upon defying their guardian's wishes, were exiled from the Garden. The garden, no longer watched over or guarded, soon grew untamed. Eventually, youkai began to spring forth from the plants. The immediate question was this: who was to take charge? Naturally, many strong youkai put forward themselves, but before any could act, a voice rang out. "It is only natural that I, the oldest of you all, should lead." The smell of rotting flesh filled the air, and Shigai Higanbana became known. Though centuries passed and the winds and animals carried away seeds to spread their descendants, the Garden had yet to be rediscovered by man. It got to the point where people began to wonder if there even was such a place. Thus, the Garden was moved to Gensokyo by complete accident, shocking everyone with its massive size. "Perhaps it moved to save itself." That is what Shigai thought to herself, getting ready to appear to her subordinates to calm them. That's when the protagonist arrived.

I don't think I need to explain what this fucking plot is about. I was like "oh this is SUCH a good plot twist" and as of now it's like. Yeah this could probably happen nowadays. But it seems TOO obvious. Also this was before I knew about The Last Comer so me being like "OMG....... Touhou Christianity....." but I also didn't want to just make Jesus, yknow? Anyways Shigai Higanbana is such a cool bitch. Her design has a little crown and she has rafflesia patterns on her skirt. She's leading the Garden and she has a Spellcard called "Higanbana's Monster". I love her so much. She's exactly the type of edge I'm not embarrassed about I WISH I could be this creative about OCs again.

TSUKIKO TORIKABUTO Poison Flower of the Moon Species: Monkshood Youkai Ability: Capable of manipulating moonlight A youkai of an aconite bloom. She has a nocturnal lifestyle, making her rather untrustworthy to the other, more sun-loving inhabitants of the garden. However, using her power, she can make moonlight stronger than its base form, sunlight. Despite the distrust of the other plants, she does care for everyone, and thus she leads a night patrol of which she is the only guard. Like Shigai and Donna, she actually knows what the garden's original name was, but she finds it unnecessary knowledge at this point. "Events in the past are in the past." Her power to control moonlight sent warning signs to the Lunar Rabbits currently living in Gensokyo, so they alerted the protagonists. And that is how she found her next guard shift under attack.

Technically, Tsukiko could be considered Enchou's direct superior. Make of that what you will. Anyways, what kind of fucking simplistic-ass name is Tsukiko? Love it when all these girls from like, the Fertile Crescent or whatever have Japanese names for some inexplicable reason. I think I get better at this later? Tsukiko really is just some bitch and I love her for it, but she's really just sorta here, isn't she. I ALSO love how I implied that literally only three people know the name of the Garden, but the only one who deems it relevant information is the leader of the whole place, and she never tells any of the inhabitants anyways. To be fair, they may not be curious in the first place.

If I had to place the Garden's inhabitants on a scale, I'd say they're on the Medicine Melancholy level of complete non-interference. As long as no one goes into the Garden, they're just completely unbothered about the whole thing. The only exception, I'd say, is Kouriko, who goes on to start selling tea blends to the Human Village. I don't know what she needs the money for, but it really does seem you can just sorta, sell whatever you want and no one will stop you. A fun fact about the Garden is that the closer you get to the side of the wall near the Barrier, the denser the forest gets until it's just a jungle devoid of light. I don't know where Shigai's getting the corpses for her attacks, but she IS near the Sanzu, geographically. Maybe that has something to do with it?

Anyways, in a few weeks' time, the most important Incident in this series will take place. And it all starts... With a meteor shower.

[inapat16]

Soviet union films that you should check out

Sapovnela - საპოვნელა (Song about a Flower) 

The translation of the title is not very accurate. Actually, "sapovnela" means  "the flower that nobody can find". The film was directed by Otar Iosseliani, in 1959, in Georgia. This is a 17- min shortcut about a 98 year old gardener, Mika Mamulashvili, who is creating floral compositions.

"Sapovnela is not a documentary, but a story about eternal nature, out of time." - Julien Morvan www.perestroikino.fr 

The first part of the film is a presentation of Mika and his garden. Because of censorship, and the regime's hold on the film industry, a voice over has been added to the editing to direct the viewer’s gaze onto the images. Otar Iosseliani was forbidding to subtitle this added voice over during screenings since he strongly disagrees with its purpose. The sound of the film was originally to be only composed of traditional Georgian songs and an arrangement of Chopin’s Polonaises. Despite the imposed voice over, Otar Iosseliani created an early eco-friendly fable. Indeed, the main characters of this film are flowers. In this first half of the film, there is a flower choreography set in a greenhouse that emphasizes nature’s freedom. As a virtuoso, Otar Iosseliani creates a collage such as Mika’s: it’s not flowers on paper but on film, which will get to be preserved for eternity, just like for an herbarium. 

The second part of the film is devoted to the effects of industrialization. The parallel is easily drawn between the oppression on nature and the oppression on people by the soviet regime. Just like there are rebels against the regime, there are wild grasses that point through the concrete applied by the bulldozer. The wild grass is also the director, who decides to take sides against the regime. He will later flee the USSR to settle in France where he still lives today. The idea is to illustrate the shift between to eras: the handcrafted one and the industrial one. Mika is one of the last living persons of this old era and embodies that idea that nature should be worked with hands. The new era is here depicted as a distancing between man and nature, as if the dawn was doomed and that the flowers were singing one last time before dying, their swansong. 

The interest of this film lies in its way to develop poetry on screen. In this film, poetry isn’t made of words but of images and sounds. It is that choir of flowers that succeeds to a day for night, and that precedes the chaos of industrialization.  That exact moment crystalizes the idea that there is something that should remain eternal within this primal state of nature. Even though men tried to handle it, by flower compositions, gardens or urbanization, there will always remain something that is beyond men’s reach. It is characterized by the shot of grass growing through the concrete, or through the stone wall. So, there is a flower that nobody can find, and no matter what we do to find it and control it, it will always be free and out of reach.  

Link to watch the film: https://www.cinematheque.fr/henri/film/70507-sapovnela-otar-iosseliani-1959/ 

J-A Lenourichel

[unmutedink]

There is no filling in your own answers. All you have to do it copy this into a new email. Make all of the text black again to start. Change the text to red on all of the things you have done, leaving the ones you haven't black. By doing this, I realized that I have a lot more fun things to do and see.

1. Started your own blog

2. Slept under the stars

3. Played in a band

4. Visited Hawaii

5. Watched a meteor shower

6. Given more than you can afford to charity

7. Been to Disneyland (Disneyworld)

8. Climbed a mountain

9. Held a praying mantis

10. Sang a solo

11. Bungee jumped

12. Visited Paris

13. Watched a lightning storm at sea

14. Taught yourself an art from scratch

15. Adopted a child

16. Had food poisoning

17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty

18. Grown your own vegetables

19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France

20. Slept on an overnight train

21. Had a pillow fight

22. Hitch hiked

23. Taken a sick day when youʼre not ill

24. Built a snow fort

25. Held a lamb

26. Gone skinny dipping

27. Run a Marathon

28. Ridden in a gondola

29. Seen a total eclipse

30. Watched a sunrise or sunset

31. Hit a home run

32. Been on a cruise

33. Seen Niagara Falls in person

34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors

35. Seen an Amish community

36. Taught yourself a new language

37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied

38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person

39. Gone rock climbing

40. Seen Michelangeloʼs David

41. Sung karaoke

42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt

43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant

44. Visited Africa

45. Walked on a beach by moonlight

46. Been transported in an ambulance

47. Had your portrait painted

48. Gone deep sea fishing

49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person

50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris

51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling

52. Kissed in the rain

53. Played in the mud

54. Gone to a drive-in theater

55. Been in a movie

56. Visited the Great Wall of China

57. Started a business

58. Taken a martial arts class

59. Visited Russia

60. Served at a soup kitchen

61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies

62. Gone whale watching

63. Got flowers for no reason

64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma

65. Gone sky diving

66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp

67. Bounced a check

68. Flown in a helicopter

69. Saved a favorite childhood toy

70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial

71. Eaten Caviar

72. Pieced a quilt

73. Stood in Times Square

74. Toured the Everglades

75. Been fired from a job

76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London

77. Broken a bone

78. Been on a speeding motorcycle

79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person

80. Published a book

81. Visited the Vatican

82. Bought a brand new car

83. Walked in Jerusalem

84. Had your picture in the newspaper

85. Read the entire Book of Mormon or Bible

86. Visited the White House

87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating

88. Had chickenpox

89. Saved someoneʼs life

90. Sat on a jury

91. Met someone famous

92. Joined a book club

93. Lost a loved one

94. Had a baby

95. Seen the Alamo in person

96. Swam in the Dead Sea

97. Been involved in a law suit

98. Owned a cell phone

99. Been stung by a bee

100. Read an entire book in one day

[kepamount]

part thirty-four - home

blue moon 🌙 - MM19xreader, smau, crack comedy, fluff, angst and smut

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a/n: and here is the thirty-fourth part of blue moon!! this is NOT PROOFREAD so pls don't judge if there's any mistakes lol. lmk what you think and hmu if you wanna be on the taglist! x

taglist 🤍: @masesangel @moneymasnn @cesarazpi28 @rmvb24 @sad-fridge2323 @shannon-jade-99 @lazysportsfanfornhl @gotbangtanlads @blazingmount @chilwell-21 @user8292 @japanesekel @ofxinnocence @heli991113 @audreyhereee @chelseastopblaster @ithinkimokeei @blue-k-98 @ch1lwell @sugarwatermelon @chxrryrose @silverlightprincess

I wake up to the faint sound of birdsong, blinking in the sunlight streaming across my face. I stretch out my arms and legs, letting out a long yawn before sitting up in bed, the warmth in the room having me push the covers away as I look out through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the other side of the room.

Every day since I got here, I’ve woken up to a forest view. At first, the trees were still as dead as they are when it’s mid-winter, brittle and bare. Slowly, over the past three months of my stay, they’ve come back to life, little buds appearing along their branches. I wondered what would grow – leaves, or maybe flowers, like orchids or magnolia. And now, on my 90th day of rehab, they’re covered in pale pink cherry blossom, beautiful and bright to bring in summer.

The morning after Mason came over to my house, we woke up early after sleeping in each other’s arms the entire night. He phoned the rehab centre I stayed at a few years ago while I packed a quick bag with enough of my things to last a couple nights. He drove us here, checked me in and paid the fee, as well as setting up a payment plan so that the money for my stay here would come out of his pocket.

They showed us both to my room, a different one than last time, and we were allowed a few moments to say goodbye, knowing it’d be a while until we’d be able to see each other again.

The comedown started a few hours after he left. I cried and screamed and begged and swore and broke everything in this room that I could. I eventually wore myself out, falling asleep curled in a ball in the corner, and I woke up in the bed, the room back to how it was when I arrived, like nothing had happened at all.

It’s gotten easier. The group therapy sessions have helped a lot, and the personal therapy sessions have been difficult but they’ve helped too. I’ve spent my time writing music and poetry, playing tennis and football, swimming and dancing and falling in love with life again. I’ve even made some new friends, learned things from the older women and taught things to the younger girls.

It hasn’t all been so fun though. I’ve had a fair few difficult moments, times when I’ve considered checking myself out to go and get high, days when I’ve felt low enough to end everything, breakdowns when I’ve smashed things against the wall and screamed at the staff and cried enough tears to make my eyes red and dry.

But let’s not dwell on that. I’d rather focus on the positive. Because I can say with happiness that I am 90-days-sober, and I can say with confidence that in this fight against addiction, I’m winning! My programme finishes today, and if all goes well, I never have to come back here again. No matter how good this place has been to me, I’d gladly go the rest of my life without even a glimpse of this rehab again.

I slowly get out of bed, getting ready for my last group session before I get to leave, thinking about what my life’s gonna be like when I get home. I’m nervous about reconnecting with everyone, apologising and making amends and coming back out into the world. But, luckily, what would normally be my biggest concern hasn’t worried me at all.

My closest friends and family got to come and visit me, once a week, so at least there’s nothing to be nervous about with them. I was so worried on the day of the first visit, wondering who it’d be. I’m only allowed three visitors at once, so I guessed it’d be my parents and my sister, but when Isla and Steph walked in, I realised just how much I’d been hoping it was them.

The three of us cried the entire time they were here, and I apologised to them over and over again, the weight slowly lifting from my shoulders every time they forgave me. I went to sleep that night much happier knowing that my best friends, my soul-sisters, still loved me just as much as they always have.

The following week was my parents and sister, another emotional visit, but again, I was left a lot happier after their visit. I was so comforted by being back in our typical brown family dynamic, with my dad’s inability to talk about his emotions but trying his best to show me his love anyway, my mum’s constant fussing and my little sister’s childish teasing.

Lisa visited the next week, having a go at me every time I tried to talk about work and giving me some tough love, the tears in her eyes betraying her. After Lisa was Steph and Isla again, that time with Ben, and they came again the next week with Callum instead. It made me so happy to see them both with their boyfriends, still going as strong as ever. Soph, Sasha and Lauren visited the next week, bringing a letter from Leah with them, and we had a good old girly gossip, the three of them filling me in on all the latest dramas.

And then, finally, Mason came to see me the week after. For some reason, I’d convinced myself that he wasn’t gonna come and visit, so I couldn’t believe my eyes when he walked in, and I don’t think I’d ever run across a room so quick, flinging myself into his arms like a military wife seeing her husband after years, his laughter like music to my ears.

We avoided all serious talk about what we are, instead spending the entire time flirting, bickering and gossiping, just like we spent our holiday together in Santorini. Everyone brought me gifts, but the one from Mason is my favourite, even though I’d never admit it to him. He brought a big box, with two blue butterflies and a tiny blue moon in between them embroidered on the lid, and a collection of memories in it.

A frayed class picture from Year 8 where we were stood together in the front row (we used to be the same height before he had a bit of a growth spurt). A scribbled note I’d written him in Year 10 English class asking if he could get me the number of one of his ‘footballer friends’ because I wanted to be a WAG. My first ever merch, a t-shirt with the album artwork from my first album on it. Tickets from every single show of mine he’s ever attended, all the way from the very first one to the most recent one, the surprise one at the O2. A little jar of sand from the beach in Santorini.

It was a highlights reel of our tumultuous relationship, and he said his sole intention of giving me all these things was a reminder. The box wasn’t even close to being half-full, and he said he wanted me to stay sober and work hard to get out of rehab so that we can fill it to the brim.

He came back to visit a couple times, all of them did, but my favourite visit has to be when Ben came to see me a couple weeks ago. He came alone, which surprised me, and we just gossiped for an hour or so, filling each other in on everything that had happened since we last saw each other. Around ten minutes before the visit ended, he took a nervous breath, saying he needed to ask me something important.

He pulled a ring box out of his pocket, and I instantly burst into tears, not even giving him a chance to explain. Once I’d calmed down, he said he’d been wanting to propose to Steph for a couple months, but was waiting to ask for my permission first. I gave it, telling him to leave and propose to her right that second, but he said he would wait until I was sober and out of rehab, wanting me to be there so I can celebrate with them and all of the rest of our friends.

I think about what their wedding’s gonna be like as I get ready, and once I’m finished, my nurse comes in to take me down to group therapy, both of us excited about it being my last day of treatment. Therapy starts as it normally does, going around the group and discussing anything we want to, before a few speeches at the end. There’s one 30-dayer, two 60-dayers and me, the only 90-dayer, and they let our loved ones in to hear our speeches.

My heart warms at all of them coming in, my parents, my sister, Lisa, Steph, Ben, Isla, Callum and Mason. They all wave at me excitedly as I stand up on the stage, getting the small slip of paper out of my pocket, clearing my throat nervously.

‘Today, I can officially say I am 90 days sober. 90 days sober. Three little words. It sounds so simple, but the process to get here was far from it. It’s been so difficult, and I would never have been able to get here without the help of all the staff here at the centre. You guys are a godsend, and I’m so grateful to you all for putting up with my dramas,’ I joke, a light laugh rippling around the room.

‘I also want to thank the other patients here. It’s such a lovely community, and you’re the best group of people to be going through this uphill journey with. I’m so proud of you all, and I have every faith that you will all stand here like I am and announce yourselves to be 90 days sober.

My final thank you goes to my loved ones, the ones sat at the back of the room. I’ve put them all through hell in the last four and a half months. I can’t even imagine the worry they must have all felt when I was in LA, and I can only apologise for my behaviour whilst I was out there.

The behaviour that followed in the month after LA was even worse. I didn’t realise how lucky I was, having these amazing people trying to check on me and help me, and pushing them all away is one of my biggest regrets. I treated them all so badly, and yet they never stopped trying. They still came to visit me, brought me gifts and love, and gave me the drive to stay sober.

But… to say I want to be sober for them would be a lie. Because instead, they’ve made me want to be sober for myself. They’ve made me realise the value in myself and my life, and I can’t thank them all enough for helping me to see that I deserve better, and that I owe it to myself to be sober.

With every one of their visits, they gave me more and more motivation to get back to my life. To visit my family more often and not rely on a weekly facetime call to check on the people who I spent my childhood with, a childhood full of light and love. To cherish the precious time I get to spend with my friends, to appreciate how priceless every single moment of laughter with them is. To throw myself back into work and reignite my passion, to get back on the stage and to spend hours in the recording and dance studios, crafting pieces of art with my genius of a manager. To create more memories with someone who’s slowly worming his way into my… affections, no matter how much I try to fight it. To bear witness to the special moments and milestones in their lives, to be there for the days that they’re happy and sad and everything in between.

I don’t want to go on too long, but I just have one last to thing to say. I got you all a little gift, just a little butterfly keyring. A good friend gave me a bracelet with a butterfly pendant on it, and his reasoning for the gift was so that I could remember the happiness I felt at the time he gave it to me. This place probably isn’t one that we’ll all remember for happiness, but we should still remember it anyway. For the strength that it took to come here, the strength that it takes to get to this point, and the strength that it’ll take to leave here sober. Thank you.’

I look at my loved ones at the back of the room for the first time once I finish my speech, heart warm at the applause, and I feel myself getting teary at how emotional they all look. I hand out the butterfly keyrings that the staff ordered in for me, all of the patients thanking me with big smiles. By the time I’m done saying all my goodbyes, tears run steadily down my face, my heart light. Maybe rehab won’t be such a painful memory after all.

I head over to the little group at the back of the room, all of them embracing me one-by-one, complimenting me on my speech and telling me how proud they are. ‘Right, come on. Party at ours in a couple hours,’ Ben says cheerfully, and I look at him open-mouthed, relieved when he says it’s a joke. ‘No parties for this one for a while,’ Lisa says sternly, my mum nodding in agreement, and I can’t help but laugh at the two of them.

‘Don’t worry, I’m all partied out. I just want to go home and binge-watch Bridgerton or something,’ I smile, leaning into Mason as he slides an arm around my waist, my head on his shoulder. My mum and dad exchange an unsubtle glance at the physical contact (they don’t really use the internet – thank god – so anything they know about my career/love life, they hear from my sister, and I’m relieved she doesn’t seem to have told them too much).

‘Shall we… do you want us all to come back to your house, y/n?’ my mum asks, eyes sparkling with mirth, and I cringe internally at the way they all look at me amusedly. ‘Um… I think I could do with a day to just… settle back in,’ I say awkwardly, all of them nodding as they try to hold back their laughter.

My nurse comes over to let me know that my bags are ready in reception, and we head out after one last goodbye. Mason has to check me out, considering he’s the one that checked me in, whilst Ben and Callum take my bags outside. Once Mason’s done with the paperwork, he holds a hand out to me and I take it, arm tingling at the contact as he grins, leading me outside to wear they’re all waiting.

‘Right, all your bags are in Mason’s car. He’s gonna drive you home. Make sure you text us all when you get back. Let’s do brunch or something tomorrow,’ Ben says firmly, and I’m so glad he’s given us instructions rather than me having to ask who’s taking me home. ‘Sounds good. Thank you all for coming,’ I say shyly, and they all hug me again.

We all head to separate cars, Mason’s hand on my lower back as he leads me over to his car. He opens the door for me, helping me in, and I connect my phone to with Bluetooth while he climbs into the driver’s seat.

‘I was thinking… do you wanna grab some lunch on the way? I bet you’ve missed takeaways,’ he says distractedly, doing that sexy thing that boys do when they reverse, his hand on the back of my seat and his head turned to look through the back windshield. ‘I have, but I’ve missed home cooked meals even more. They let me do some baking in the kitchen a couple times but I couldn’t do any actual cooking. I just wanna make some Indian food,’ I say longingly, the boy chuckling as he nods.

‘I’ll just drop you straight off then,’ he says, and I look over at him in confusion. ‘Drop me off? No, stay with me,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Are you sure? Don’t you want to just chill?’ ‘Yeah, but I want you there with me,’ I say coyly, and his lips curve up into a grin. ‘Yeah?’ ‘Mmhmm. You can help me… settle in,’ I murmur, leaning across the console and resting a hand on his leg.

He glances down at my hand before looking back up at the road, taking a deep breath, the muscles in his cheek jumping with the effort of holding himself together. ‘y/n, it’s been four and a half months since I… you know. So don’t do this to me,’ he says, voice strained, and I can’t help but smile. ‘Don’t worry, Mase. I’ll make it worth the wait,’ I grin, leaning to press a kiss to his cheek, and he just chuckles, shaking his head.

‘Anyway… how much did rehab cost? I’ll need to pay you back,’ I say, and he instantly starts waving me off. ‘You don’t need to.’ ‘Mason-’ ‘No, y/n. You being sober and healthy is more than enough repayment for me. You don’t need to pay me back,’ he says firmly, his tone indicating I shouldn’t argue, and I just let out a little sigh.

‘Are you sure?’ ‘I’m sure, babe. It was barely a dent on my account,’ he says, putting on a false snooty tone, and I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘Oh, really, Money Mase? Making the big money, are we? Is that how you managed to afford tracking down this bracelet from the Californian forest?’ I ask, and he bursts out laughing.

‘y/n, Christian went straight outside after you threw it and found it after about twenty minutes because you didn’t throw it very far. He texted me about it the same day and then sent it over in the post. I didn’t, like, hire a search-and-rescue team,’ he laughs, and my heart warms at the thought that Christian went to look for it.

‘I’m really sorry about that. Throwing the bracelet out the window. I was high and emotional and-’ ‘It’s fine, y/n. I know I probably should be upset about it, but I’m not. Because it means that you cared,’ he says softly, a faint blush painting his cheeks, and I practically melt at how sweet he is.

‘Thank you,’ I say suddenly, and he glances at me questioningly. ‘For what, babe?’ ‘Everything. Staying through everything I did. I just… I really appreciate that even though all that stuff happened in LA and I literally went to rehab, you waited for me,’ I say softly, and he grins, taking my hand and lifting it so he can press his lips to the back of it, speaking against my skin, ‘4 and a half months is nothing, y/n. I’d wait an entire lifetime for you.’

‘That was smooth. Been working on that line?’ I ask amusedly, ignoring the butterflies going crazy in my stomach, and he chuckles, nodding. ‘I’ve had nearly your entire rehab stint to work on it so I’d be embarrassed if it wasn’t smooth,’ he grins, making me giggle. I can’t help but smile, my heart feeling happy with my hand in his, on our way home.

[yeoldontknow]

the light keeper’s daughter | jhs (m)

A/N: written as fulfillment for the july house games at @bangtansorciere  ❂ To The Lighthouse      ⁂ Hosted by: Professor Bee @inkedtae through @bangtansorciere​ AU Type: Trident’s Tides (soulmates) Themes: God/Goddess (goddess reader); Secret Relationship Kinks: clit biting; pain kink; size kink; masturbation; degradation; overstimulation; dirty talk; cum play; panty sniffing

↝ Creative Content Contributor: @jamaisjoons​ for this incredible banner. its literally so stunning ;~; ↝ Pairing: Lighthouse Keeper!Hoseok x Goddess of Light!Reader (oc; female) ↝ Genre: soulmate au; secret relationship au; gods/goddess au; mentions of an arranged marriage; heavy angst; smut; romance; pining ↝ Rating: NC-17 | 18+ ↝ Summary: For years, you’ve kept your relationship with Hoseok a secret. As the daughter of the God of Light, you are destined to marry anyone who slays the beast in the Gloaming Isles in your honor. When that day finally comes, you go to Hoseok to tell him your relationship must end and you are set to be married. One last time, Hoseok reminds you no one will love you as eternally, as enduringly, as he. ↝ Warnings: explicit sex; explicit language; pregnancy; unprotected sex; creampie; masturbation; clit biting; oral sex (f receiving); pain kink; size kink; overstimulation; light degradation; a brief handjob; impreg kink; dirty talk; cum play; panty sniffing; crying; biting; marking; scratching; brief mentions of blood ↝ Word Count: 14.7K        ↝ special thank you to @softyoongiionly​ and @kithtaehyung​ for reading through this and being amazing betas! if there are any mistakes left over they are absolutely my own and the fact that 98% of this was written while sprinting owo

Looking at Hoseok, you think, is exactly like being struck by lightning. Which is to say, every time, all the time, looking at Hoseok means you feel him everywhere, all over and all at once. 

Inside the lighthouse, there is no escaping him. 

Pressing your back against the rough concrete of the small light room, you tilt your head to the side as the totality of Hoseok’s warmth, ardor, and fidelity blossoms over you. He flowers deep in the nodes of your lungs, your breath constricted as you take him in, studying the curve of his lips, the slope of his nose, the way he wears the night as though he is the stars.

In the distance, waves rush to the shore, kissing the land with the same enthusiasm you wish to be kissing him, only to pull away from land; the water shy, anxious of the earth’s response to its affections. Over and over, the sea rolls like thunder. Every now and then, the light that spins overhead refracts downward, illuminating the blood that has rushed to his cheeks. Flushed, his lips part as he processes the words you have just told him, all red and red and red with understanding.

As though he is burning, as though you are not burning for him, your hands clinging tightly to your skirts as you hold your knees against your chest. It should be utterly unfair, you think, for him to appear so beautiful, so exquisite, even as he remains painfully stricken by your words. The searing ache in your chest germinates alongside your love, mind racing with the apologies he deserves. Your bones tremble with the force of remaining still, prepared to reach out and hold his face and tell him it was a lie. You want to smile for him, want to tease him, want to say you’d been terribly silly and that such jokes are best kept for nights when the sky is not clouded, not cold, and instead warmed by your shared rapture. 

How you would like to give him all the kindest, all the softest, words in the world.

‘It can’t be true.’

He’s said this twice, the disbelief in his voice only just winning out against the grief. Hoseok repeats it again, taking a step towards you, eyes cast down to where you have slunk in shame and sadness. Hands limp at his sides, his fingers quake, torn between balling his hands into fists or running through his hair, their resting place for his worry. Deciding on neither, he simply stands tall and stoic, appearing so small in the light that cascades around the room.

You’d glow for him if you could, if you felt like you deserved to illuminate any part of him at all.

Looking away from his woefully dejected expression, you turn your attention to the small gap in the wall beside you. A window once blocked the wind - stained glass, exquisite. It shattered during a storm, on a night when he pressed himself so deep inside you traces of his essence lingered on your tongue. He was deep enough it hurt, rolling into you with enthusiastic vigor. Tonight, the breeze smells of low tide, acrid in the back of your nose and sour, just like your mood.

‘We knew this would happen,’ is your quiet reply. 

A weak and pathetic excuse, you hate the words even as you say them. Shameful, you think with a grimace, to have pretended that you could have a happy ending, that convincing your father would have been simple. The lies you told yourself and Hoseok, the platitudes that fell from your lips to comfort him, turn on your now, betrayals stacked against you that weigh heavily your judgement. You’ve been childish, so childish, to assume you could have ever been happy.

Hoseok shakes his head, refusing to accept your answer. All fury and rage, he comes to stand before you and lowers to his knees, demanding you look at him. His presence is a live wire, the heat and energy from his skin is vital, a pull against yours that makes you regard him once more, confronted by his enduring beauty. Flooding your vision, he is all you see, all you can fathom, your world beginning and ending with his pleading eyes. 

‘But it’s been years,’ he argues, the high pitched tone of his voice wavering and taught with emotion. He’s older than you, physically, but at this moment he has never been so young, so small, so gloriously human. ‘Centuries even. It’s unfair to you.’

A huff of breath rushes through your nose, your scoff ripe with bitterness. ‘Someone finally slayed the Sydral, as archaic as this ritual actually is. My father said I should have always expected it.’

‘And so now…’ Hoseok’s voice drifts, falling back onto his knees crestfallen. The corner of his lips drop into the beginnings of a deep frown, all manner and will to fight rapidly dissipating.

‘I have to marry them,’ you nod, answering his unspoken question.

For a long while, you hold his gaze, allowing yourself to get lost in the umber of his irises and missing the mirth that usually ignites their sparkle. It is just his breath that cascades over your skin, just the waves that rush beyond the light room, just the world that seems to turn onward, without you, time passing without either of you truly acknowledging it. In this silence, you see your history, your every moment spent with him: the day you met; the day he could not help himself any longer and kissed you soundly, without restraint; the first moment you told him you loved him; the first moment he said he needed you; the plastic ring he won at the pier arcade - extraordinary in all its ugliness - and the gentle, reverent, way he slid it over your finger, calling it a promise of fidelity. 

In Hoseok, you see it all. 

Similarly, he drowns in you, the pink of his cheeks deepening to rose with each passing breath. Posture falling slack, the strap of his ride suspender slips from his shoulder, the collar of his linen shirt loosening with the lack of restraint. A sliver of his collarbone becomes exposed, golden and rich, a tantalizing patch of skin you would caress and kiss if only the circumstances had been different. You wonder idly what he remembers of you, what he sees in your own dispirited expression. You wonder if he remembers the way he loved you, the way he loved you beyond your light and into your darkness. 

You wonder if he remembers the way he ate your shadows - with his whole mouth, with fervor, with pride. You wonder if he remembers the way you devoured him just the same. 

‘This is ridiculous,’ he announces, finally. Turning to look out the window, he regards the sky solemnly, the curve of his profile imposing in its majesty. Eyes narrowed, it is the harshest he has ever looked, devoid of forgiveness. ‘It’s supposed to be me.’

Swiftly, you shake your head, adamant in your disagreement. You reach for him, leaning forward to rest your hand against his chest, against his heart where it thunders in his sternum. Warmth from his skin radiates into your blood, taking root between your joints. Hoseok worms his way into pieces of your spirit long left abandoned, and you swallow thickly, wondering if such affection as this is normal, if it’s always this way.

‘I’d never have let you.’ Your dispute is biting, sharp enough Hoseok turns his eyes back to you, jaw clenched and tight with silent fury. ‘You’re human. It would have killed you. And then where would I be?’

‘You’d be sitting where I am,’ he argues, emphatic. 

Reaching for your hand where it rests, he covers it with his own, lifting it slightly to twine his fingers with yours. Unable to help himself, he inches closer, running his thumb over your knuckles and sending shivers along your nerves. Like always, his touch is a wildfire, the electric kinetic energy needed to set you aglow. Your mind swims with him the same way your body becomes whelmed by his devotion, but he does not let himself become distracted. 

‘Do you even understand?’ Voice little more than a whisper, Hoseok’s gaze is penetrating, a bite to his veneration that demands your complete attention. Tilting his head to the side, he continues. ‘You think I wouldn’t die for you?’

You squeeze his hand with tenacity, acknowledging his sentiment, but he does not see all the things you have witnessed. He does not know the true menace of the Sydral, does not know its tricks, its many heads, its speed, its cunning; Hoseok would die for you, and death would find him quickly. 

Instead, you offer him a small smile, one that is so fragile and close to breaking. Hoseok’s intensity burns within your chest, transforming his softness into the valor of a man that leaves you breathless. Salvaging your own strength, you lower your gaze to the white collar of his shirt, to the soft linen and the expanse of his throat where he swallows. This you can regard with pleasure, can regard without fearing you may shatter.

And so you smile, finding the will to fight him once more. ‘The problem,’ you begin, hoping the earnestness of your smile is enough to cool the rage that boils in his throat, ‘is that I know you would. And I would live my life alone, married to him while knowing you are gone. Would you really condemn me to such misery? My darling, I would die to keep you safe.’

This feels like anguish; this feels like dying, you think to yourself, growing ever more despondent the longer you feel Hoseok pleading with the emptiness that lurks behind your eyes. You can’t bear to face him, not when the tightness in your throat becomes a threat, tears lingering on the precipice of spilling. Every time his gaze meets yours it is brutal in its honesty, violent in the way your love and lust tumbles so completely into grief.

‘How long?’ he manages, breathing life to the very question you’d been hoping to avoid. 

Your future is still so far away, distant enough it makes this moment, and every moment to follow, heavy with the pain of imagination. Still, you’ve never been able to deny him anything. 

Once more, you turn to view the window, regarding it with a vacant expression as though you are regarding time itself. ‘You know this is the last time I can see you.’

‘I know,’ he bites out, unwilling to let you dodge the answer. ‘I mean how long until...you’re not mine anymore.’

‘That’s...not possible,’ you offer gently, casting him a solemn, detached grin. ‘I am always going to be yours. Even when I’m in his bed, even when I’m thousands of miles away, even in death, I am yours.’

Hoseok pulls you against him, compelling your complete attention. Eyes wide, you study his face - the resolution of his passion fierce enough to be an earthquake against your sternum, a collision of meeting worlds. His arm winds itself around your waist while he still clutches your hand, the strength of his grip stinging against your knuckles. You tremble against his powerful frame, inhaling the deep scent of cedar and ambergris that always clings to him, the salt of the ocean that lingers on his skin, the dust that has saturated his shirt from the lighthouse, and you; your vanilla and lemon, the brightness of your own natural scent that emanates from your light and always seems to find him, not unlike rays of the sun. 

Your mouth waters at this closeness, his own eyes darkened to a rich black as he studies you seriously. You’ve wounded him - worse, you’ve denied him - and he presses the tips of his fingers into the soft muscles of your back, ensuring you cannot leave him. Not until he is ready to let you go.  

‘You know what I mean,’ he breathes, words lowered to a hiss. If he were a vengeful sort of man, he would be full of venom. Instead, there is only remorse in his insistence.

Closing your eyes, you sigh. ‘Months, most likely. Tomorrow the rituals begin - the seven days feast, the Fate Tying, the Blood Gathering.’ 

When you look at him again, your lower lip begins to quake. Saying the words makes it all feel immediate, tangible, as though your father stands in the dark corners of the light room casting his judgements. You almost feel him there, his presence always so sinister for a man blessed to command the light; he resides in the silent places, giving birth to shadows, prepared to pull you from bliss at a moment's notice. 

‘All this pomp and circumstance from eras bygone,’ you continue, grounding yourself in the firmness of Hoseok’s arms and chest. The bones of his knees press into your thighs; your hand caught between your twin heartbeats; you immerse yourself in the pain of this connection and remind yourself it hurts because he was always meant to be yours. ‘It’s been centuries since a goddess has been married off, and yet somehow I’m the first for such a sentence. The wedding won’t be for at least five months.’

‘Then we have time.’ Hope saturates his words, his hold on you growing ever more unyielding. ‘You can still come to me, we can still see each other,’ he explains quickly, speaking in a rush. ‘No one will have to know.’

Biting your lips, you raise your hand to the soft strands of his hair, carding your fingers through it. All silk and satin, you relish the texture as his desperation soaks into your pores. 

‘I wish that could be true.’ Even as you speak, you focus on his hair, committing these small details to memory. The curve of his bang in the center of his forehead, the deep amber and dark sienna and all the golden highlights that come to life in the daylight, the way all of him, every piece, is soft enough to break you. Yes, you focus on it all. ‘All the Old Gods will be gathering in Teylim. There will be more eyes on me than ever before. Ladies coming to fuss over my hair, my clothes, the oils I wear; men worshiping Daeus like he’s some kind of king when, really, he’s just lucky enough to be half of a god. I won’t be able to get away.’

Hoseok’s eyes roam your face, wild and storming, waiting for you to amend your answer. When you do not speak, his brow furrows and he exhales, a small whimper released from the center of his breaking heart. ‘So this is it, then? This is really it?’

‘I’m so sorry,’ you whisper, moving your hand from his hair to cup his cheek. 

He presses himself into your touch, turning just slightly to kiss delicately at your palm. The sweetness of his tenderness splinters the last of your courage, the tears you’ve so valiantly held back starting to burn as they spill over to your cheeks. 

‘I wish it could be different,’ you plead - with everyone and no one at all. ‘I wish for it everyday. Hoseok, I can’t -’ Distraught, you choke on your own words, and Hoseok pulls you firmly against him, resting your head against his shoulder. ‘I can’t breathe without you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this.’

Hoseok says nothing at all as you dampen his shirt, tears spilling into the linen as you struggle not to collapse against him completely. When you are finally alone, you will succumb to the sorrow that has learned to occupy every chamber of your heart. When you are finally alone, you will eat the spirit of rage with teeth and fangs, and you will let the darkness have you, refusing to let the light erupt from your skin. But for now, you let the tears arrive of their own accord, aware that you are suddenly too sad to even weep, tears dripping into his shirt as means to remain a part of him.

Against you, Hoseok’s breath becomes uneven, his own shoulders shuddering as he minds his own heroism, fighting back his own tears. He quivers against you, his stuttering breath exhaled through his nose as he maintains his composure. The light room becomes almost too quiet, the blood rushing your ears drowning out the sound of the sea, narrowing your focus to just the shared heat between your bodies. You inch closer, removing any space that could exist between you, extinguishing any oxygen that would dare to separate you from him. What you would give for a thunderstorm, any sound at all to give life to the end of love, to the start of the war of loving. 

Unable to stomach the quiet any longer, your mind seems to become unhinged. All the tiny, miserable little thoughts Hoseok’s love kept locked away worm their way past your lips, erupting to life as though your heartbreak has given them permission to persecute you. 

‘I wish you never found me,’ you mumble, almost incoherent. Your tongue fumbles with the words, caught between weeping and speaking, making a mess of so much more than just his shirt. ‘I wish you never saw me. I could love you like that, on my own, from a distance. I could be strong enough to move through life not knowing you, loving only the idea of you. You’re so much more than anything my mind could have fabricated out of childish desire. The reality of you is heaven. And now, I’m hurting you. I should die for such a transgression.’

‘Don’t say that.’ Hoseok pulls, easing you back and lifting both his hands to cup your face. Briefly you mourn the loss of his fingers and knuckles so rough against yours, but cradled between his palms, your skin tingles, making a festival out of this contact and celebrating the nuance of his fingerprints. He looks down into you, deep enough you feel him taking root in the center of your belly. You love him most when he looks like this - fierce and unforgiving - and you cannot help the way your body responds, aroused simply by the passion of him. ‘Don’t you dare wish that,’ he commands, voice thick. ‘The day we met was the day my life started.’

‘But...’ you struggle to find the words, drifting off with the implication that, now, his life is surely ending.

‘I don’t want to know who I would be without you.’ Hoseok takes his time as he speaks, an art you cannot comprehend. 

Behind his eyes, his mind races, words living and dying before they can reach his tongue. He has so much to say, so many more promises to make, so many more words of affirmation he’d like to give you. You see them all, recognize them all - for they mirror yours, are born from your own likeness; you know them all so well, you feel as though you could reach out and touch them. 

‘I can’t fathom it, I won’t even consider it.’ Shaking his head, he denies this completely, holding onto your stare with a fixation that borders on zealous. ‘You came to me, and it felt like I could breathe. You came to me, and I felt like myself. Loving you makes me better, loving you is partly why I am alive.’

It’s difficult to swallow around the lump in your throat, its size and prowess growing ever larger in the wake of his words. In the oncoming quiet, you wish he hadn’t said it, wish he hadn’t reminded you of the way you the oncoming storm of his presence before you met him. One look at him and you had seen it all, a life designed by the Fates - marriage, children, hope, happiness. In death he’d have joined you in Teylim, youthful, young, yours. With eternity before you, you’d bask in the rapture and the joyful silliness that comes with forever. 

He felt it, too, saw it in your eyes. On your fourth meeting, he held you against him and promised you his life.

‘I will put my child in your belly,’ he announced, deliberate in the way he enunciated his words. You waited for the shock of such an exclamation to overtake you, but it never came. ‘I can’t explain it,’ he chuckled, amused by his own enthusiasm, ‘but I’m certain of it. I see my unborn children in your eyes. I think this is what the elders mean when they say there is always a plan, and you will always know it the moment you find it. I’m so certain my whole life is tied to yours.’

The memory burns within your mind, a scorch of greed mixing immediately with longing. You wish the fire of it would incinerate it to ash, that it would vanish altogether before the Fate Tying. You can handle all of these frivolous little rituals, sure of yourself and your own strength, but the Fate Tying means to unmake you. At just the thought, your stomach begins to sink. 

You will sit, hands clasped on your amber throne with the sunlight seeking your hair, your cheeks, your lips; Daeus will smile, wrapped in oak and evergreen, in the earth that flourishes beneath your light; and you will weep, watching as the Moirai unstitch your soul from Hoseok’s, peeling it apart inch by horrible inch, to thread it with the ugliness of Daeus’ strands. You will wonder, mouth dry and eyes wet, why the Moirai would bother making a man for you, would bother weaving your spirits together, only to unravel the work they had done, the love you had found. 

The movement of Hoseok’s gentle caress, pads of his thumbs running across the bones of your cheeks, returns you to the present moment. Once more he whimpers, doing his best to keep you grounded with him, unwilling to lose you before he absolutely must. Digging your nails into his shoulder as you grab fistfuls of his shirt, you wallow with him, knowing that, just like him, you don’t know who you would have become without him.

‘What do we do?’ you manage, reduced to a more pathetic version of yourself as you plead with him. Anyone else, and you’d be ashamed to appear so weak. ‘How do I do this?’

‘I don’t know,’ is all he can provide. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Promise me -’ You cut yourself off, not entirely certain where the idea comes from, what part of you would willingly propose such a request, the meaning of what you had intended to say catching up to your mind the moment you heard your own voice. Hoseok waits patiently, and you lower your gaze to the curvature of his lips, wanting to kiss and kiss and kiss him, knowing your next words will scar you both. ‘Promise me you’ll find someone else. Promise me you’ll be happy.’

Without any hesitation, he scoffs, dismissing the idea altogether. ‘Don’t ask me to tell a lie.’ 

‘I can’t, Hoseok.’ Now, it is your turn to hold his face, cupping his cheeks with veneration. Mind reeling, you envision it, certain you could take it. You are certain you would die for less. ‘I can’t do this if I spend my life knowing you’ll be unhappy. I can’t do this knowing you’re alone.’

Slowly, gently, Hoseok lets the tip of his nose press against yours, rubbing it back and forth, back and forth. Breath  a deluge down and over your lips and skin, he somehow finds it within himself to smile, empty of all amusement. 

‘It’s so unfair of you to expect that I could be happy with anyone but you,’ he chastises. ‘I’d rather be alone, utterly and completely, than to be lonely with someone. They deserve better than someone who is with them out of loyalty to another person - a promise kept to the person they truly love.’

His rejection and refusal of your plea inspires a thrill in the pit of your stomach, all manner of possessive pleasure coursing through your veins. How easily he turns you into a selfish woman, how quickly his promises of fidelity make you lose all sight of strength and future vision. What sort of man is Hoseok that he should have such dominion over you, you think to yourself. But then, you know. You know as you have always known: Hoseok is your man, your lover, your soul.

Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, just as he had done, reverently, adoringly, you bite your lip and feel your exhale shake. ‘So what will you do?’

‘I’ll do as I’ve always done,’ he shrugs, as though the very thought is not a bruise within his ribs. ‘I’ll keep the lighthouse. Every night, I’ll let the beacon burn, and keep the light on. Even on clear days, I will let the light shine.’ Hoseok smiles as he says this, the first real smile he has managed since he saw you on the shore this evening, waiting, just like always. ‘When you’re up there, perhaps you will see the light.’ 

He shifts his gaze to the roof of the light house, looking up and beyond, past the clouds, up to the seat of the gods. Furrowing his brow, he hardens his jaw just slightly, eyes turning dark as he demands your father witness him. 

When he looks at you again, he is a changed man - a boy trapped in the throes of love, and a man on the verge of letting himself perish.

‘Maybe up there,’ he murmurs, ‘you will see my light and know that I’m burning for you, just as I’ve always been. I’ll continue to love you. I’ll be good, I’ll be pious, and maybe when I die we will meet in Teylim and even in death I’ll watch you, staying close to your light like a bird in flight.’

‘Hoseok.’ The quiver of your bottom lip disrupts the cadence of his name, besmirching it to little more than a sob.

Sucking air through his teeth, Hoseok leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours as his eyes fall shut. At such close proximity, you study the almost feminine length of his eyelashes, the pores of his skin, and wonder who or what god or demon you could barter with to stay inside him forever.

‘You’re supposed to be mine,’ he whimpers, the sadness welling up in him like a mountain. ‘You are mine, but…I will always be yours. Even when they untie us, I’ll be yours. They can’t thread me with anyone else. I don’t think my soul will allow it.’ 

Unable to sustain it any longer, your desire for him rises to a swell, erupting beside your sorrow - just as fervent, and even more unyielding. His words are a comfort, an echo you will revisit over and over when you have long departed, but your skin has learned how to ache for his touch, learned how to anticipate the way he moves over you like water, and you need it. You need him. 

The rest of your pitiful existence looms out before you, days and months and centuries passing without Hoseok to hold you and keep you, and you despise the very notion of it. You rebuke it, refusing to let yourself continue on without knowing how it feels to have him. Tonight, you do not want him as your lover.

Tonight, you want him as your husband.

‘Kiss me,’ you announce, guiding his forehead away from yours, skin prickling with the lack of his warmth. ‘Kiss me like it’s our wedding. I -’ The tightness of your voice steals your breath, words hot and heavy in your mouth as you say them. ‘I want to know what a marriage bed truly feels like. I want to know what our marriage bed would be like.’

Mad with an unbearable passion, no longer contained, Hoseok heeds your words and lets his tongue wander over the seam of your lips. You cling to him, clutching what you can of his shape, his body, and you sigh in woeful euphoria, granting him unspoken entry to the recesses of your mouth - but he does not enter. Your lover has always been disobedient, reckless in the evening when your skin and your lips and your heart are presented to him, and tonight he is no different. Tonight, he scorns the hour, taking his time as he traces over your cupid’s bow with his tongue, rendering the turn of the earth meaningless. The heat of his breath tickles your skin, a cascade in which you luxuriate, and your eyes, blurred by the urgency of your desire, lose all sense of your surroundings until there is only Hoseok. 

Hoseok - on you, around you, all over you, the rain and the wind all at once.

Only when he has had his fill of your lips does he press the whole of his mouth against yours, sucking languidly at your bottom lip. Skin growing tight, you keen into his kiss, consumed by greed. Slowly, he moves his hands down and down, letting his fingers trace indeterminate lines over your cheeks, your jaw, your bones until they rest at your neck. With his palm over your pulse, he holds you still, his touch a fever, his touch the sun, radiating deep into the caverns of your heart. 

Filled with him, you think. Absolutely alive with him, Hoseok lets his palm cradle the tether of your life until you are certain he is the oxygen made to sustain your mortal form. You, living and breathing, are little more than remnants of departed touches, composed entirely of his affections, his affirmations, his adoration.

So, too, do you kiss at him, battling against him for any semblance of permanence, demanding that you be remembered. Feeling you writhe against him, insistent in your need for closeness, he hums in pleasure, a musical sound that traverses your synapsis with unhurried ease. Gooseflesh raises on your arms, either by a passing breeze or the way Hoseok leans in, harder, rougher, all manner of dominance in the way he so desperately seeks to have you, and you shiver, delighted by the peak in your senses; delighted, fundamentally, that you will commit every moment of this last evening to bodily memory.

Willing to be devoured, you surrender to him, feeling arousal leak from between your folds as though his savagery has given it permission to spill over. It soaks into your underwear where you briefly mourn the fact that it will not coat your thighs, not yet, and that Hoseok must wait to see how easily you could paint yourself in your wanting. Like always, he anticipates you and ardent your longing; perceptive and always acutely aware of the way you have grown wanton. depraved by the strength of his kisses alone. 

Hoseok eases his hand to the back of your neck, determination apparent in his grip, and guides you forward to rest in his lap. Letting your legs settle on either side of his thighs, you straddle him, unwilling to break any contact he has with you, your skin, you, your hands on him. You come together like a cataclysm, the burgeoning tip of his erection firm and stubborn where it presses against your core, assertive and tantalizing even beneath the fabric of his trousers. 

It’s lewd the way you crave him deep inside you, jaw dropping as your mouth opens wide to gasp in delight. Hoseok wastes no time in letting his tongue glide against yours, explorative and eager, utterly deliberate in his stroking. Slowly, the tips of his fingers move from your neck to your hairline, ever deeper and ever more intrusive. A low chuckle rumbles in his throat as he runs his tongue over yours, grazing the roof of your mouth before he forms a fist in your hair and tilts your head back, swift and aggressive. 

All at once he pulls away, face hovering just centimeters above yours and gaze hooded as he explores your lustful expression. A flush creeps into your cheeks, the control he has over the flow of your blood is always surprising even if it is to be expected. Hoseok seems pleased, evident in the familiar way his eyes have become blackened by the force of his yearning and the smile that has worked its way into the corner of his lips, a secret for only you to discover. He takes a pause, disregarding his haste, to regard you: your parted lips, your heated cheeks - a fire that has spread itself over your chests and breasts.

‘You are a vision of sin,’ he murmurs, cocking his head to the side and tightening his grip in your hair. ‘What would all the gods say?’

Your own nails scratch tenderly into his scalp, gripping his hair to mirror his hold on you. Futile, you know. The strength in Hoseok is silent, a gift that makes him appear merely pretty until the seat of his power is fully revealed, a fortitude you could never mimic.

You swallow, preparing to speak, and watch the way Hoseok studies the movement of your throat. ‘They would call me a harlot.’ 

His gaze returns to yours, an otherwise thoughtful look turned menacing by the terror of his passion. ‘And are you?’

Tongue heavy in your mouth, you struggle with the few words you can manage. ‘They will make me out to be,’ you begin slowly, poignantly, ‘and it will be your fault. You’ve made me a slut.’

You hold onto the word - draping yourself over the “s”, tapping your tongue against the “t” - ensuring it lingers in your mouth long enough for him to taste it. It’s his fault, really, that you will be judged and scorned and shamed for coming to your new husband wholly impure, the construct of your virginity eradicated by Hoseok’s insatiable appetite. It’s his fault, you think, that you want him this much. That you love him this much. Your tongue caresses the word slut like it's your dearest companion, familiar with its shape and texture, and you lean upward, hoping to put it in his mouth. 

If he is half of your soul, then he should learn how it tastes to be utterly reprehensible. 

But he dodges the trajectory of your desires, moves away from your lips and your face entirely, diving down to your chest where he lets his teeth traverse the expanse of your sternum. Lifting his hand from your pulse, he trades one beat of your blood for another, fisting his hand in the collar of your dress to pull it down and expose the thin bit of flesh covering your heart. It thunders in your ears, your body a storm of his making, and you tremble as he positions himself to ravage your very spirit.

His teeth leave scars upon your nerves, eternal echoes within your pores that have you rolling your hips downward in encouragement. Again, you feel him, his cock against your core, enough to have you whimpering as though you are small and fragile, not the maker of your undoing. As punishment for your impertinence, Hoseok takes aim and bites down harshly at the slender bone of your clavicle. 

‘Hoseok!’ 

‘I know you, Sparrow.’ The husk of his breath is an avalanche into the marrow of your bones, the memory of his teeth still reverberating into your lungs. ‘You always like it when it hurts.’

Your skin still stings, yet he is relentless. You quake in his hold as he bites at the bone once again, teeth inlaid perfectly where they had been before. Your skin bends beneath the force, ecstatic hiss descending into a low moan, giving away the truth of how well he truly knows you. The pain grounds you in the moment, allows you, too, to ignore the passage of time, the ebb and flow of the waves as though the tides have halted altogether. You are prettiest when you are red and purple, black and blue by the marks he leaves in his wake, and not once, not even when he breaks your skin to bleeding does he tarnish your light.

In his arms, you are illuminated, glowing with the same intensity as the lighthouse beacon. He’s called you the heavenly sky for the way you glow under his affections, your inability to control your power when he makes you feel so impossibly good turning you into an evening star. You often forget you are blessed with a holy gift, the goddess of light as though your title has any meaning beyond providing you a seat at the table in Teylim. You often forget this is who you really are, someone happy, someone made of magic - a light kindled only under joy.

‘I will make you ache for me,’ he breathes, pushing the collar of your dress lower and lower, threatening to expose your nipple. ‘I want you alight, burning for me. Only me.’

Hoseok kisses deftly at the supple softness of your breast, diligent and greedy. His breath comes ragged, thick in the center of his lungs where he struggles around the insurmountable longing that puts force in his handling of your body. Working his tongue over the skin, he licks the stars out of the constellations of your pores, tasting the dust, the salt, the sea. Your hands run through his hair, messing the thick strands to a state of perilous disorder in your eagerness to move downward to the comforting solidarity of his shoulders.

Grinding your hips into his lap, the tip of his clothed erection slides along your slit, and you release a whimpered exclamation as the cloth of your underwear slips between your folds. Biting your lip, you breathe deep, Hoseok’s own groan of dissatisfaction vibrates into your chest. You feel him deep in your throat, his voice alongside yours, his desire matching yours in intensity. 

Hand leaving your neck in favor of your waist, his grip tightens, fingertips pressing deep circles into the muscles of your back. Thrusting upward, he teases you, laughing darkly to himself with a rough nip to your breast. The motion sends your underwear deeper into your cunt, a pressure to your clit as erotic as it is cruel. It sends a shiver down your spine, inspiring tremors in your nerves that have you clenching your walls around nothing at all, seeking the bulbous head of his cock in need. 

Pleased with himself, he raises himself from your chest to work at the buttons of your dress. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your own rolling back to present you breasts to him like a preening cat. Hungry, he takes the bait, slipping a palm under your dress to cup your breast. He presses against your nipple, a small wine tumbling from your throat to mingle with his whispered expletive. Rolling your nipple between his knuckle, he regards you momentarily, studying your dazed expression. Against him, you are an earthquake unto yourself, a cosmic shift of longing ravaging your blood, and you are pleased by it, offering him a smile of gluttony. 

Abruptly, he releases your breast, hands falling to your hips as he raises to his knees, keeping you against him. Hoseok pushes your hips roughly against his, cock a threatening force against your core as he guides your bodies down to the floor, careful to keep the shift in position painless. Once more, he thrusts at you, and you feel yourself becoming soaked, juices no longer dripping into your underwear but instead crawling slowly down to your ass. The concrete of the floor is chilled, cold enough your back and hips arch indelicately in retreat, causing you to carelessly meet his thrust. 

‘Fuck,’ he mutters, returning his hands to your front as he sits back on his knees. 

Hoseok avoids the buttons over your breasts, choosing instead to undo the buttons just beneath. Continuing onward, he takes his time unwrapping you, hungry for the pieces of your body he will mark as his. The heart of his lips parts on a silent exclamation, mouth falling open as he unveils more of your ample flesh. The light from your skin mixes with the lighthouse beacon, casting shadows of desire in his eyes, rendering him beastly. With his eyes only, he devours you; your body, the fruit of his immense craving. 

Leaving your breasts covered, Hoseok exposes your hips, your stomach, your thighs. Your hardened nipples strain against the fabric, begging for release the same way your core clenches once again around nothing at all, swallowing more of your underwear in an effort to lure him deep inside you. He meant it this way, all too aware your sensitive nipples will tease you to a point of aching the longer they rub against your dress.

The sea breeze cools your skin, so much of you exposed you feel as though you have been submerged in wind and sky. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you mourn momentarily that it is not Hoseok that covers you, not yet. Still, you enjoy being naked for him like this - naked, vulnerable, safe, and his. You open your legs further, letting the wind kiss at the wetness of your cunt, your answering grin borderline salacious. How glorious to give everything and hide nothing from him. How glorious to let yourself be worshipped, his eyes starved for the pleasure of your sex. All this joy, and yet your frustration runs over, an overflow occurring with little thought. 

‘It’s not fair,’ you whine, raising your arms to reach for him. ‘Let me undress you.’

Sitting up, you press your hands flat against his chest, becoming attuned with the ample hills and valleys of his muscles. Hoseok sits still and proud, lips reddened and wet from kissing you. Your light ignites the flush that dapples the tips of his ears, skin flushed by lust and longing. Throat running dry, you swallow thickly, committing his unrivaled beauty to memory. You refuse to forget a single moment of this, unwilling to relinquish a single detail of him. 

Slowly, you ease the suspenders from his shoulders, humming in approval at the way the loose linen of his shirt relaxes in its newfound freedom, offering you more of his neck and collarbones. As your fingers work earnestly at his buttons, Hoseok takes his time admiring you, a piercing look both penetrative and heartsick. His hand comes to cover yours, unable to help himself, and he holds it tightly, raising it to his lips. His eyes remain locked on yours as he kisses the pads of your fingers, one by one, before slipping your index and middle finger into his mouth. Your lips part on a sigh that fades just as quickly as it came, feeling his tongue swirl over the digits with purpose. 

And much the same way you did not expect his touch, so too are you caught off guard when he moves your fingers from his mouth and guides it down your stomach. Lower and lower, he guides your hand between your bodies where he slips it beneath your underwear. Your breath hitches, skin wet from his saliva and clit throbbing at the prospect of tangible contact, your own hand an ominous presence resting upon your mound.

‘Touch yourself,’ he commands.

Hoseok is so often the picture of tenderness in the way he makes love to you, always gentle and always mired in the totality of his affections. Occasionally, he is sharp and, occasionally, he is in control - only on days when he is starved, only on days when he is completely ravenous. Tonight, there is no room for argument. Tonight, he makes himself an unrelenting devil, unafraid to exert dominance.

‘Eventually we will remember little of how we undress,’ he explains, pressing your fingers over your mound, dangerously close to your clit. ‘Right now, I need to see the way you will touch yourself for me when I’m no longer around. I want to see it. I want to memorize it. Touch yourself for me.’

Removing his hand from yours, he nudges softly at your shoulder, and you obey immediately. Leaning back on your right elbow, you keep your hand in place as he grabs the band of your underwear and pulls it down. Lifting your hips, your tongue licks at your bottom lip where the skin has become dry and chapped, struggling to catch your breath as your desire becomes oppressive. Falling back on your tailbone, you spread your legs wider still, proud and impish as you slide your fingers down your slip, separating your folds to display your core. 

But he sees nothing as he lifts your underwear to his nose, fisting his hands in the fabric and pressing it against his face. Hoseok breathes in deep,eyes rolling back slightly in the effort of keeping his eyes open, a growl rumbling in his chest like a warning. Exhaling into the cloth, he laughs to himself, a high pitched, small sound of amused embarrassment before he falls completely silent once more. And then, he breathes in again, just as deep, just as fervent, lips kissing at the wet patch you have created.

‘I’m keeping these.’ Easing your underwear away from his nose, he crumples the garment and buries it in the pocket of his trousers. Cocking an eyebrow in pleasure, he takes in your exposed cunt, licking his lips. ‘I’ll fuck myself with them, imagining it’s you and your wet pussy.’

‘Pervert,’ you tease, jutting your chin forward in mock derision.

‘Whore.’ Inspired by your nakedness, he begins to undress, gaze heated and focused on your wet cunt. ‘I told you to touch yourself.’

Your fingers easily breach the barrier of your folds upon their release, wet with Hoseok’s spit and your walls slick and dripping with your juices. Years ago, you would have been ashamed of being so soaked, a damp patch expanding in the concrete beneath you in visible proof. But you no longer care, not when Hoseok’s expression of thirst is so incorrigible. 

You fuck yourself with your hand, fighting the urge to tilt your head back in relief - small as it is. In the heat of your lonely nights, you find it tragic your fingers never reach as deep as Hoseok’s slender digits; yours are too slim, knuckles not nearly as rough or pronounced. And when your mind drifts dangerously to thoughts of girth, your eyes drop swiftly to the pronounced shape of Hoseok’s straining cock. Swallowing the weep of appreciation that builds in your chest, your teeth chew at your bottom lip, clinging in anticipation.

Pressing the base of your palm against the hood of your clit, you whimper. Mild and meek as it is, your fingers bring a temporary relief, this satisfaction fleeting, and it will not be long before you are begging him to fill you. 

‘You’re dripping,’ he comments, interrupting your thoughts and removing his shirt in one swift motion. ‘Are you sure you’re not the princess of water? If I kiss your cunt I might drown.’

‘I’m in love with you.’ 

While not truly a detailed explanation, the words carry the weight of your whole chest, erupting with little thought. Your mind offers the only logical explanation for your wetness it can manage while your body grapples with the implication of Hoseok’s mouth upon your core. 

‘Say it again,’ he orders, hands tugging harshly at the zip of his trousers.

A slow smile spreads over your lips, head cocking to the side as you admire his eager expression. ‘I’m in love with you.’

‘Again.’

‘I’m in love with you.’ 

This time, you say it with venom, as though you want it to hurt and hope that it will leave scars in its wake. Hoseok tugs his trousers down his thighs, rising to his knees, appearing regal and godly. Freed from its cloth restraints, his cock springs upward to rest against his stomach, and he smirks, chest and neck flushed as your focus shifts immediately to the purpled bulbous head. 

Without hesitation, you remove yourself from your folds, the ache at your core only minutely grieving the loss of your small hand. Instead, you reach for him, fingers slick with your juices as you grasp the base of his cock with a gentle squeeze. He’s heavy in your hand, rigid in the solid way that makes your walls clench and drip once more, mirroring the way your mouth waters. Slowly, you move your hand up and down the shaft, letting your thumb rub over the leaking tip with care. 

Hoseok’s breath hitches, his hips thrusting slightly into your hand as you pleasure him. His own hands clutch at his discarded clothes, doing his best to exercise his dwindling patience, and you repeat motion, admiring the smoothness of the skin in contrast to the veins of his shaft.

‘I always wonder how you will fit inside me,’ you comment, moving your hand back down and studying the way your fingers do not meet your thumb. ‘You’re so thick.’

He rolls his shoulders back in the aftermath of your praise, inhaling sharply through his teeth. Hoseok is always free with his praises, showering you in worship and stating it is his duty to devote himself to the goddess in his favor. Always, he does this, and always he seeks nothing in return. But you have always sensed, as attuned to him as you are, that praise from you sets his soul afire. One word of praise from you and you are certain he could eat the god of Daeus entirely, rendering him completely human.

‘You were made for me,’ he explains, voice taught and words strained. Unable to hold back, he fucks your fist, seeking relief. ‘You will always stretch to accommodate me, just like your life was meant to. Just like your belly was meant to, stretching with my children.’ His gaze is penetrative, deeply serious for such an obscene state of being. ‘You were meant to take all of me. My true home is inside you.’

Your grip loosens slightly at his admission, lips curling into a small pout. ‘I so desperately wanted to give you a child.’

A choked sound rumbles through his chest, and his hand reaches yours, pulling it from his cock to wind your fingers together. With his free hand, he nudges at your shoulder, easing you back to the ground with a darkness in his eyes that has your throat running dry. Automatically, your legs spread wide, offering him space to settle between them. The tip of his cock rubs carelessly against your slit, and your focus fades, mind emptying with the single desire to have him inside you taking root. 

‘Promise me you won’t give him children,’ he commands, words thick with purpose.

He walks his hand languidly down  your body, grazing over your chest, your covered breasts, to the flat of your stomach. Beneath him, you tremble, the tectonic plates of your spine shifting beneath his touch. Splaying his hand over your stomach, he eyes your skin with parted lips and a furrowed brow. Hoseok wars with himself, his thoughts tangible behind the darkness of his irises, expression swimming with strife.

‘Promise me,’ he repeats. ‘I don’t think I could survive the thought of someone else's baby growing inside you.’ 

Raising your hand from the floor, you card your fingers through his hair while you squeeze your joined hands, determined to win his attention. 

‘I promise,’ is your soft whisper. ‘I shall bear no other child than yours.’ 

Invigorated by your promise, he returns his gaze to yours and maintains it as he works his way down your body with his tongue, kissing everywhere his hands have been. Without warning, he buries his face between your legs to bite gently at your clit, this contact a thunderclap in your spirit. Back arching off the floor, your voice shatters around his name, teeth chewing over the syllables as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Your bones hum with the stimulation, very existence stinging and resonating, while he sucks your clit into his mouth, soothing the pain into a deep, soul burning pleasure. He swirls his tongue around it, mouth greedy and impatient, the fullness of his lips a heaven unrivaled by Teylim, and your hand tightened in his hair, body writhing in passion. 

Hoseok releases your clit with a wet pop before he kisses his way down to your folds, thrusting the flat of his tongue between them, impatient and hungry. Mindlessly, your legs spread wider, small gasps escaping from your chest as your lungs take in the scent of your sex and your hips roll upward, feeling your juices mix ceremoniously with his saliva. Consumed by the sheer power of your need, you feel yourself howl like a moonless wolf, rolling your hips against Hoseok’s face in erratic motions, inspired by the promise of your orgasm.

But Hoseok releases your joined hands, moving it quickly to your hips where he holds you still, growling against your cunt.

‘You shall not wander from me,’ he says, moving his lips against your slit as he presses you into the ground. ‘Keep still and let me feast on you.’

Once more, he thrusts the full length of his tongue between your walls, sucking eagerly at the juices spilling into his open mouth. He’s velvet and silk against your core, sturdy and solid while still gliding against all the places you have needed him most, and your voice careens off the ceiling, loud enough to drown out the ocean waves. Scratching your nails down the soft skin of your thighs, you fight back the desire to thrust against his face, wishing you could fuck his mouth and press yourself against the tip of his nose. All of it, every thrust of his tongue and every roll of your hips you suppress has you moaning, voice high pitched and growing erratic.

The feel of his tongue inside you inspires the deep desire for something larger, something thicker. Your orgasm is a threat in the center of your belly, spine tingling and tightening as each press of his tongue against your walls tames the beast of your racing heart. Hoseok buries himself between your legs with a diligence that borders on hysteria, holding you down and indulging in your

Still, his tongue only just hits the place inside your core that needs him most. You want him hard against your cervix. You want him deep enough to leave bruises on your softest pieces.

Tonight, you want the thick girth of his cock to splinter your bones. Tonight, you want his cock pressed against your cervix, a bruise you will carry for the rest of your life. Tonight, you want his cum so deep inside you it burns.

Tonight, you want him to love you and you want it to hurt. 

‘Hoseok,’ you whimper. ‘Please, I -’

Hoseok thrusts two fingers into your cunt beside his tongue, silencing you with the rough skin of his knuckles spreading your walls even wider. The contrast between his fingers and tongue elevates your hips from the floor with force, disregarding the strength of his hand. You are beastly beneath his ministrations, finding yourself caught in a wild hour and feeling as though you have abstained from him too long. He forces your hips back down with the palm of his hand, groaning against you loudly enough you feel his voice reverberate up to your tongue, and you cry out, distraught. 

Having left the top of your dress buttoned, your nipples strain against the cloth, sensitive and sending electric ripples down your arms, your shoulders - all along your nerves. Another breeze moves through the lighthouse, and it kisses at the sheen of sweat that has broken along your hairline. 

Desperately, you want him. Desperately, you need him. But still it’s not enough. 

‘God,’ you keen, ‘I need to cum.’

Hoseok hums in understanding, the vibration of it moving deep inside you once more. 

‘Oh,’ you whine, so small and so close to breaking. 

Hoseok’s tongue leaves your cunt, only his fingers remaining, and he moves his mouth to your clit where he sucks at the swollen nub deftly. Again, your hand scratches down your thighs, harsh enough to draw blood. Red and angry, the sting of these scores against your flesh makes you smile, a manic and monstrous expression you hope your father, Daeus, and all the gods can see. Frustrated and feeling the coil of your orgasm tighten, your other hand slaps into the ground, gripping at the linen of Hoseok’s shirt. You dig your nails into it, pretending it is him, his skin, his cock, anything substantial to torture him as he tortures you.

Against your cunt, you feel Hoseok begin to laugh, wearing the smirk of the devil as he sucks diligently at your clit.

His name begins in your mouth and dies on an exhale, eyes open wide as you stare up at the ceiling. Vision glazed and vacant, your body trembles as your orgasm lingers dangerously on the precipice of your nerves, skin growing hot and bordering on a point of pain. You hear yourself crying, you feel yourself pressing harder and harder against Hoseok’s eager mouth, and you struggle to discern if the rush in your ears is your blood as it moves swiftly to find him or the ocean that works swiftly to keep your coupling secret. 

And then, without any warning at all, Hoseok once more latches his teeth to your clit.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, a wave of heat in your blood and skin, your juice cascading into Hoseok’s waiting mouth. This orgasm is an eruption, a shockwave in your soul that leaves you trembling while his relentless motions of tongue and hand milk you to completion. The tears you have held back begin to spill, soaking your cheeks as you soak his lips, a great wave over you that leaves you breathless.

‘Come up here,’ you gasp. ‘Come up here and kiss me.’

Slowly pulling his lips and fingers from your cunt, you hiss as he eases his way up your body. Using the tip of his tongue, he traces the shape of your parted lips with careful strokes, still messy and dripping with your slick juices. At your core, his cock presses, the contact sending tremors up your spine and causing a whine of pain to splinter in your throat. Granted permission by the sound alone, Hoseok delves his tongue inside your mouth and demands you taste yourself - you, your cum; him, his breath, his spit, his flavor; all of it, mixed together. Your walls clench as you kiss him, devouring him, as your folds seek to lure his cock inside you. 

Gasping against his mouth, you feel his tip press roughly against your core, your walls still sensitive but your body and spirit eager for his fullness. Hoseok pulls away from your lips to whine a low expletive, his resolve shaking and unstable, close to shattering by the force of his desire. His lips part on his sighs, breath slow and shallow, and still shimmering with you. Already, he had devoured you, drunk his fill and yet he still appears starved. As he lingers above you, Hoseok rolls his cock against your walls once more, a challenge, a reminder that he is exhausted by the prospect of not having his fill of you.

Moving your hands to his shoulders, you press your fingers into the soft skin of his back and muscles, letting them wander down and down until you grip the rounded flesh of his ass There, your grip tightens, threatening to push him inside you lest he waste any more time. 

‘Hoseok,’ you breathe. ‘I need you to fuck me.’

‘You want me to fuck you?’ he mumbles, running his tongue over your jaw before biting at your chin. ‘Tell me how badly.’

‘Please,’ you whimper, rolling your hips up against his cock, a warning against the tip. ‘I need you so badly it hurts.’

Wordlessly, Hoseok thrusts himself inside you to the hilt, balls pressing against you with a loud slap. You feel him shake inside you, body shivering with the sudden heat enveloping his cock. Hoseok’s moan is a deluge, an ecstatic exclamation howled victoriously into the juncture of your neck and shoulders, and you smile blankly at the ceiling, mind empty of all things that are not the feel of Hoseok against and inside you. 

His stillness is a tease you cannot endure, and so you clench yourself around him, his teeth biting at your skin as you release and repeat, urging him to move. The feel of his mouth at your skin, the feel of his heaviness pressed so roughly inside you, as your cunt leaking over him, back down into the floor where it coats your ass in its stickiness. Still, you pay little attention to anything other than his immense girth as it stretches you, your walls strained to accommodate him like always. 

Feeling you drip over and under him, he pulls out and thrusts back in, a knock at the door of your cervix and the sudden feel of him so deep as you groaning his name. He challenges you, repeating the motion as your bodies slide back along the floor with the force of his thrusts, the piercing sensation stealing your very breath. You are gasping as you clutch him, breasts moving against the fabric and nipples aching with the sensation, letting him push your body to its limits. 

‘Tell me you love me,’ he grits out, an echo of your earlier promises.

‘I love you,’ you choke, the words incomprehensible. 

‘Say it again,’ he hisses, executing a piercing thrust that has you gasping for breath, nails digging into his skin for purchase.

Squeezing your eyes closed, your hands move to the wings of his shoulder blades and you cling to him, a flightless bird. ‘I love you.’ 

When you hear yourself say it, you realize you are crying, your voice a sob of affirmation around tears of grief. It should be impossible to love someone this much, with the devastating whole of your existence. 

‘Tell me you love me,’ you plead, barely able to speak around the way Hoseok punishes your cervix, a punishment for abandoning him. 

‘I love you.’ Equally affected, his voice warbles over the words. Face buried in the crook of your neck, he presses the words over and over into your pulse. 

‘I love you, I love you.’

Slowing his pace, Hoseok accentuates his proclamations with brutal thrusts against your cervix. Slow as his thrusts may be, they are full of power and force, a pain against your walls and muscles ensuring you will never be free of him. Tears falling freely, your breath is as sharp as his thrusts, a burn in your lungs as you struggle to contain the cosmic feeling of love you hold inside. 

‘I know you like it when it hurts,’ he grits out, thrusts relentless. 

All you can manage is a nod, a moan, the dig of your nails into his skin, the acknowledgement that you would prefer it if he shattered you. You would prefer it if he left nothing behind of you at all.

‘I know you like it when I stretch you, when you can’t walk for days.’ 

‘I do,’ you nod weakly, legs automatically spreading wider - until your hips hurt, until you are certain your bones will bruise from the way you have spread yourself open just for him. 

Hoseok moans as a harmonic response to yours, the sack of his balls slapping diligently at your ass. You cling to him, holding him against you in despair, the vice grip of your hands matched only by the grip of your walls. Pleasure ripples through your synapses, an overload to your very synapses, little else registering in your mind apart from the places Hoseok penetrates within your core.

‘Do you want me to cum inside you?’

The pleading nature of his tone does not go unmissed, his own anguish evident in the way his hand cups your breast and his nails scratch at the flesh, wishing for entry. 

‘Yes.’

‘What if I get you pregnant?’ he muses, though he remains completely sincere. What if I fuck my baby into you? What will they do?’

‘I hope you do.’ It takes all your strength to speak without losing your breath. Once more your orgasm has started to build gloriously around the pain of taking him against your cervix, and you need him to know that you mean it. ‘I don’t care if they scorn me.’

‘I’ll do it,’ he bites out - not a threat, but a promise. ‘I’ll knock you up, fuck my baby into you. They’ll have to watch you grow someone else’s child. What a sight, huh? Bet Daeus would love to see you deliver another man’s baby.’

‘Do it.’

You see yourself, heavy and round with his child, glowing brilliantly like a constellation unto yourself. Carrying your offspring, you would be a supernova, the cradle of the very universe and you would celebrate it with every word breaking over laughter. Daeus would snarl at you, a sneer reserved for your growing belly; your father would find himself in a rage so beautiful and blinding, you think darkness would befall the earth, this winter sudden and unforgiving. The other gods would ignore you, this you are confident of and would take with pride. You’d tease them with it, finding yourself immensely confident in the power of being pregnant with Hoseok’s child. 

You’d carry his child as though this were your real pilgrimage within Teylim, your true purpose. 

And Hoseok, you know, would be your chosen king, god of the sun because he deserves it.

He deserves you. 

‘Yeah?’ he moans, hips picking up pace as he begins to chase his own high. Still, he loses none of the strength in his motions, seemingly motivated by your affirmation of desire.

‘Get me pregnant,’ you plead, biting your lip with shame at this impossible ask. A fool’s errand, a childish plea to change the way of things. ‘Make me stay with you,’ is your final whisper.

Together, you both fall silent as he fucks you with vigor, silent and awestruck by the violence of your coupling. With each thrust, your voices become a symphony of your union. Gripping him tightly, you hope it reaches the gods, your father, all of Teylim. You hope they see the way Hoseok fucks you, absolutely unforgiving. You hope they see the way you make a mess of yourself for him, that you have already decided on a husband and he is no god, no hero, but a man who loves you as though you are the whole of the sky. 

Hoseok trembles against you, and you sense his orgasm approaching in the way he gasps against your skin, thrusting harder and faster and, somehow, harder into your core. You are burning with the ache of containing him, but your own orgasm is cosmic, making its steady approach with each brutal thrust. Hoseok wanted to live inside you, wanted to give you a child, wanted to watch you swell with him alone - and it is these thoughts that send you over the edge, the universe apart from Hoseok melting into a white. In this orgasm, there is no air, no sea, no sky - only Hoseok; his breath, his smile as you cum around him, his ecstatic laughter.

You imagine yourself pregnant, learning to contain a sun inside your womb. You imagine him laughing, hands and lips at your belly. You imagine him happy. You imagine him happy, and your orgasm moves over you with the strength of a lunar tide, the same way your tears move over your cheeks, torn between sobs of bliss and sobs of grief for a life you will not have.

Hoseok continues to thrust into you with purpose, the last of your orgasm leaving you in shockwaves as the motions of his hips overstimulate your walls. It hurts to contain him, not nearly as much as it hurts to leave him, and you dig your nails into his skin, demanding all you can from him with enthusiasm. The world is tilted on its axis as he cums inside you, wave after wave of seed spilling into your core as you stroke tenderly at the hair at the base of his neck. Teeth chattering, you mumble his name, shivering as he spills himself inside you, and you pray, woefully, that he kept his word and left you with a piece of him.

‘Mine,’ he says, stilling inside you as the last of his orgasm quakes his mortal form. 

As his cock begins to soften inside you, the hand at your breast moves gently to the buttons. Your skin burns with the heat of the saliva he dripped against your neck, and he presses his cheek against your neck as he unbuttons the last of your dress. Exposed, now, to the sea breeze, your back arches slightly as the wind and his breath moves over your nipples. His hand cups your breast, too tender for the way he fucked you, and you are certain he is imagining your breasts full of milk, your body heavy, his wish granted, too. 

Pulling his cock free, you both grimace at the feeling, and he removes his hand from your breast to instead smear the cum from your core that leaks from between your walls over your folds. He strokes the tips of his fingers against your slit, the stimulation making you hiss and writhe beneath him in retreat, before you are crying out his name, his fingers dipping inside to scoop his cum from your center. As he pulls his hand free, his studies his fingers carefully, smirking not unlike the devil, before he guides them over your breasts and lets it drip.

And then, without warning, he begins to write his name along your breasts.

‘I am sanctifying you,’ he explains. ‘Anyone who pulls down your clothes will find me. I have already laid claim to your temple.’

Your smile is composed entirely of sadness, a hope that has made a home of despair evident in your expression. Holding his hand in yours, you guide his soaked fingers between the valley of your breasts to your stomach, where you hold him still.

‘With any luck it will be visible here,’ you offer, hoping he cannot hear how remorse has consumed you.

Hoseok frowns. ‘My biggest fear is that you do become pregnant and that I cannot see my baby grow in you. That I won’t be able to raise our family with you.’

Furrowing your brow, you tilt your head to the side in consideration, battling the new found grief that consumes you. ‘Did you not mean it?’

‘I meant every word,’ he promises, moving his hand from your stomach to cup your cheeks. ‘I’d put twins inside you if I had any control. But you are mine, our family is mine. I curse the gods for taking it from me.’ Hoseok falls silent, and you press your cheek into his hand, turning to kiss his mount of venus in encouragement. ‘The day I met you I saw my life with you,’ he continues, so quiet, and so unlike your Hoseok. ‘You are half of my soul.’

Abruptly, Hoseok lifts himself up and pulls away from you. As he rises to a stand, he is still warmed by your touch, the glow from your magic still draped over his muscles, turning him amber and yellow. He’s incandescent, as much as a god of light as you, more regal and more royal than any man who was lucky enough to slay a beast in your name. Running a hand through his hair, he regards you with dark eyes - embers burning in his rises of lust and longing, devotion and despair. He says nothing at all as he moves, naked and vulnerable, to the back corner of the room where he gathers his tools. 

‘What are you doing?’ you hum. Reaching your hand out, you curl onto your side, writhing in the pillow of your discarded clothes, beckoning him back to you. ‘Come back to me. It’s cold without you.’

He says nothing at all as he roots around, pulling out a thick screwdriver and hammer. 

‘He will give you rings,’ he says, more to himself than to you. 

The words come softly, barely a whisper that cuts through the air. Settling in front of the fog bell on his knees, he begins to hammer the end of the screwdriver into the metal, carving and carving. 

‘He will give you flowers,’ he grits out bitterly, ‘and will see your smiles in the morning. He will bring you food and nectar, and he will watch you glow your brightest. He will watch you glow each time you remember my hands on you, my lips on you. In bed, he will watch you glow, thinking it’s him, letting his own ego grow so immense he will get off on his own power rather than you. But he won’t know, not like I do. Not like we do.’

Sitting up, you don’t bother to cover your naked body, the breeze from the sea cooling your dampened skin. Licking your lips, you watch as his muscles strain with his pound of the hammer. Brow narrowed, jaw set, and hands gripping his tools with confidence, he marks the metal with a certainty born from a man learning to combat loneliness. 

‘He won’t know,’ he continues, words a grunt of demand and dominion. ‘No one will know that each time he touches you, you are comparing him to me. You will be remembering me. I want you to remember me. I want you to think of me, I want you to look for the light from this beacon, and I want you to outshine the anguish. I am destined to look for you the way so many people look for the North Star. My every storm is guided by you. So don’t you dare forget.’

The fog light spins overhead, clouds passing by and changing the refraction just enough to see the shimmer against his cheeks. Hoseok weeps as he carves, jaw unflinching, and hands steady with determination. A lump rises in the center of your throat, chest tight with the pain that comes from loving someone too much, entirely too much. Gasping for air, you move towards him, wanting his body pressed tightly against yours in comfort.

On instinct, you give him light - more light, so much light. From beneath your skin, you become torchlight, neon, candle flame; wrapping yourself around his back and shoulders, you rest your head on his shoulder and cling to him, becoming sunlight and firewood, banishing the darkness from his mind and mouth, a lamp unto his feet to lead him home. Pressing your lips at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, you feel him tremble beneath you, mindlessly leaning into you for more, endlessly more. 

As you turn to watch his hands, your own tears soak the corner of your eyes.

‘Hoseok,’ you breathe, regarding his craftsmanship.

‘He can’t give you light like I can,’ he murmurs, suddenly so small and so young, weakened suddenly by the ever looming distance between you. ‘He can give you all the falsehoods of husbandry, but he can’t give you light. He can’t give it back. He is not your equal like I am.’ 

Beneath the careful, diligent work of his hammer and screw, your name begins to take shape, just beneath his. The markings are deep, thick scratches unlikely to erode in any substantial length of time. Wind and sea will not wipe your names away, nor snow nor sand. Not even heaven, you think, could cause your names to smear. 

When he finishes, the bronze bell glimmers beneath your light, your names encased in a heart he artfully crafted. You imagine it in a wedding band - silver, and not gold. Gold, you think, is too soft and too malleable. The gods prefer it, a sign of eternal wealth and glory, but gold bends. Gold is too impermanent, value placed in all the wrong places. You would give Hoseok platinum, would give him silver, would give him bronze. If you had the power to move the earth, you would give him iron and steel, anything equally as enduring as the way you will be immortalized in ardor. 

‘I can’t believe this is all I will have of you.’ Hoseok stares at your names, at the jagged lines he carved into the bell, mourning. Shoulders slumped and hands folded neatly in his lap, he laments quietly to himself as though in prayer. ‘At the end of all this, this is all I have. Your name and a memory.’

Raising your hand to his chin, you turn his face to yours, biting your lip as he cries freely, tears staining the softness of his cheeks with salt. 

‘No one will have me, not like you.’ ‘He can take me, he can take my light, he can take my name, but he will never have my heart. All of me belongs to you. I am yours. Swear to me that you are mine.’

The hammer and screwdriver fall to the ground at his knees, a loud clank so disruptive for the quiet paradise you have built at the top of the lighthouse. Enveloping you in his arms, he buries his face in your neck, lips at the center of your throat - a place he has been so often this night you are determined to call it his home - tugging your hair back to make space for him. 

‘I’m yours,’ he swears passionately. ‘Not a single person will have me the way I’ve given myself to you. In a thousand summers, not a single one will pass in which I’m not yours.’

The conviction in his words undoes you, your eyes wide as you stare up at the ceiling, at the base of the light, feeling as though there is no difference between the moon and the sun, not anymore. For you, they are interchangeable, each burning in an hour of love; which is to say, there will be no hour that passes in which you do not love him, no hour passing in which your light does not belong to him and his does not belong to you. 

‘I wish I could stay like this.’ These affectionate speeches tumble from your lips, your mind empty of misgivings, wishing to be as honest as you are naked. ‘I wish I could stay this way, forever touching you.’

‘Time is meaningless,’ he muses, detached and distant, even as you hold him. ‘For me, this is the end of my life. There will be nothing else after this. For me, it will always be this way. My arms will always be around you.’

For him, you are glad. For him, you are relieved that there shall be no other moment than this. 

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

The seaside feels like the edge of destruction after so long away from it, gravity pressing at your bones. From where you stand, the unchanging nature of the earth makes a mockery of your nerves, the past beating against your sternum like a second heart.

You are poised and still, relearning the way the earth is unforgiving compared to the heavens. Too long have you been removed from such a tangible feeling of living, such a tangible reminder that you, too, are made of flesh and blood and all the things that break so easily, just like ocean foam. Your toes bury themselves into the rocky shore, rooting yourself like a tether as a promise that you will not run away, that you will not leave - not again. As though it senses your presence, the sea rages beneath a cloudless sky, the sun’s rays reflecting off the water, illuminated without any need of you.

The lighthouse looms along the hilltop, and you worry your bottom lip as you study its eternal guardianship. All these unchangeable things, loyal without you, and yet you stand here, begging for acceptance. You can hear Hoseok’s words like an echo, words not yet spoken but you anticipate them, the lump in your throat sinister in its tenacity. 

How dare you, he will shout, and the tears on his cheeks will be your parting gift. How dare you haunt me here when I did not expect you, when I had already worked so hard to give you up. 

Promises in the dead of night are easy to make when the daylight has yet to take anything from you. The earth remains unchanged but you are evidence of the passage of time, and you are certain Hoseok will have warred with himself so completely your memory of him is little more than a ghost of a man who died the moment he woke to find you missing. 

He used to be able to sense you here. Back when things were new and things were simple, back even at the end, he would sense your presence along the water and come running, a smile already at his cheeks in welcome. Stroking your naked hip with the tips of his fingers, he told you all about his skin would tingle when you were close, a static on his tongue that told him something too important to be contained by the earth was waiting for him. Even before he knew you, before he knew it was you, he felt it, as though he had been made just to know you, to find you. 

It used to be the same for you, a pull to the shore and a lightness of being that always made you stand here, in this place, waiting. Weeks passed before either of you had any idea you were near one another, before you’d even introduced yourself, and now it is the same. Your body combats the change in gravity with strength, though you realize too much has changed in you for the weight to feel the same. 

The hair at the back of your neck stands on end, rising in anticipation as the air becomes thick and heavy. You feel him approaching, a magnetic pull against your back that has your posture shifting, pulling you to your full height regardless how heavy all of you feels. Still, he doesn’t close the distance, and your lips part around a sigh, silently asking him to reach for you, to touch you.

But he won’t.

Not when he thinks you are the same as you were. Not when he thinks this is all just a memory.

Closing your eyes, you turn to face him, feeling tears burn against the lids. Hoseok makes no movement towards you, and, unable to hold back any longer, you open your eyes once more, weeping at the sight of him. Chewing at the inside of your cheek, you study the way he looks at you, the way his gaze traverses your form with a pained expression, the knot in his brow visible even from a distance. He’s far from you, far enough you cannot touch him, but he, too, remains unchanged - still beautiful, still glorious, still the sun king himself, and you choke back a bitter cry at the way it seems only you are the one who was allowed to change.

‘Hello,’ you try, offering a weak and unsteady smile.

Hoseok says nothing as he closes the distance, eyes trained at your middle, focused enough you feel him move inside you. He lets himself get close, close enough your skin calls out to his eagerly, begging him to touch you. You can smell him on the wind, the same musk, the same ambergris, the same dust that you remember, and your hands twitch at your sides, straining to reach out to him. 

‘What is this?’ he manages, not looking you in the face.

‘I -’ A small cry cuts you off, and you press your hand to your lips, forcing yourself to keep your composure. 

Hearing the anguish in your voice, he raises his gaze to yours and you see the way he mirrors your pain, confused and bewildered. 

‘Tell me what this is,’ he whispers, fierce and demanding. 

‘It’s exactly how it looks,’ you explain, feeling terribly pathetic.

It’s so simple, you know. Absolutely obvious. Your pregnant belly sticks out far enough now it leaves a distance between you, a gap where your child grows the only thing that separates you. 

‘Did you come here to mock me?’ he spits, leaning forward with venom.

‘No!’ you exclaim, holding your hand up in surrender. ‘I…’ you drift off, uncertain where to begin. You decide, perhaps, it’s best to begin with the truth. ‘The baby is yours.’ 

Hoseok’s expression shatters, a thousand different feelings breaking over his face before he settles on disbelief and quiet rage.

‘Why would you show me this?’ he pleads, sounding so small. ‘Have I not suffered enough? You knew I wished for this and now you tease me with it?’

‘I’m not here to show you anything, Hoseok, and certainly not to cause you pain.’ It’s shocking how tired you are becoming, putting in the effort of not reaching for him, not weeping for him, not rushing to an end you both deserve. ‘They...rejected me,’ is all you manage in the end.

Hoseok sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes watering as he lowers his focus to your belly once more. ‘They stopped the wedding?’

He speaks so softly you almost do not hear him over the rolling tide, and now, you cannot be contained. In one swift motion, you reach for his hand twining your fingers together. Your hold on him is unrelenting, not allowing him a single escape. Feeling his palm against yours is all the motivation you need, a resurgence of energy you have been missing for months.

When you continue to remain silent, he narrows his brow and persists. ‘Are you unmarried?’

‘They were going to go through with,’ you explain quickly, not allowing him any room for interjection. ‘They were going to make me marry him. Daeus even said he’d give the child to a human family, make it go through a Hero’s Journey to join us back in Teylim. Gods, the fight I put up to stop that from happening. The Fate Tying went poorly,’ you finish with a sardonic grin.

Gently, you tug Hoseok against you, forcing his stomach to bump against yours. His heated breath cascades over your skin, and you sigh in pleasure.

‘The child is completely human, my love,’ you whisper, eyes searching his face. ‘The Moirai refused to untie us.’ Incredulous, you laugh, looking out over the grassy hill in wonder. ‘The old crones are always right.’

The weight of your explanation steals Hoseok’s breath, and he falls against you, clinging to you as he sobs into your shoulder. Holding him close, you remember the last time you were in this position, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt, your hands clutching him, unwilling to be removed. As though sensing the great wave of his emotion, the child in your belly stirs abruptly, pressing against your womb to get his attention. 

You jump slightly at the feel of it, and Hoseok looks down, laughing, incandescent in his joy. He brings his hand to your belly, touching softly at where your child had just been, and he sniffles, looking to you and back down, cheeks reflecting the light you suddenly cannot contain. 

‘It’s a girl,’ you state, always wondering how he would react to knowing he’d have a daughter. ‘Our daughter kept me with you.’

Falling to his knees, he holds your belly in his hands and presses his forehead against its peak, too overcome with emotion to utter a word. Instead, he simply breathes deeply, wrought with bliss. Lowering a hand to the crown of his head, you thread your fingers through your hair and think that this, this precise moment, is what it means to be a goddess.

This is what it means to truly be sanctified.

[xcrystalzero]

finals never end

summary: as finals approach, i would like to imagine that there is something more to college than studying alone in a box for 14 hours a day. so, here's a modern au of the genshin boys as college students.

Characters included: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Xiao, Zhongli

Diluc:

- Who are we kidding, this bitch is a legacy at some pricy Ivy League. Hates when people bring it up though since he just wants to be his own person and not rely on his family name to get through things.

- Majors in business because of course he does. Rushed a business frat because it seemed like a good idea. Didn't get a bid and has since boycotted greek life.

- Eventually people find out who his father is and he starts to get bombarded by people who just basically want to use him for networking. Gets approached by girls (and sometime guys) after class like literally every day, asking if he wants to study with them sometime or just "hang out" both because he's hot and because he's rich. He never gives them the time of day but that never stops them.

- Goes to the same school as Kaeya but ignores him every time he tries to talk to him or just come back into his life. Kaeya usually takes it in stride but every else is super confused about how the two of them actually know each other.

- Walks you home from class when it starts to get darker earlier, apparently only because he doesn't have anything better to do. A gentleman through and through.

"Don't you have a meeting right now?"

"You staying safe is more important right now. They'll understand."

Kaeya:

- You know that one guy who is always out partying and who you never see studying but somehow makes the Dean's List every single semester without fail? Yeah, that's Kaeya.

- He's probably like an engineering or hard science major too and all his friends are absolutely pissed when he fucks up the curve every single time.

"You got a 98 on the orgo final???" "What, like it's hard?"

- Not as much of a hoe as everyone thinks he is. He definitely has his fun but he's not that guy who has slept his way through his entire major.

- Surprisingly enough, he's not actually in a frat, he just always knows where all the parties are. He's that guy with a snap score in the millions because everyone and their cousin hits him up every Friday night to ask where the parties are at.

-Generally seen as a really easy person to talk too. Also really good at seeming open with people without actually ever opening up and sharing anything about himself.

- With his very few close friends however, he has some strange hobbies that he's always happy to have someone to share with.

-Will take you on a picnic date about a mile off campus where you guys each way too much cheese and crackers, drink about a bottle of wine each, and watch the stars come out as the sun sets. Give the boy some love. That's all he really wants.

Venti:

-Your local friendly performing arts major who you never find without a huge iced coffee and cuffed jeans.

- He's super involved in a bunch of student organizations from improv to a few music clubs and the like. He's that person that everyone in his major knows and comes to for recommendations about new things that they should try out.

- He's in a band! They play indie songs at rotating bars every Tuesday and Thursday night and go to conferences once a semester for aspiring artists. Also sometimes will randomly perform on the Quad and serenade the random people passing by just trying to get to class.

-Offers to play at an event a club you're in is hosting as long as there's free snacks.

- Kind of an alcoholic? Not a partier in the traditional sense, but at least twice a week, he'll host a hangout where he and anyone who decides to show up get wine drunk and watch a shit ton of Gilmore Girls. BYOB of course because there's no way he could afford it on his own. Has shown up to class still drunk before but he's cute so everyone forgives him.

- Impromptu photo shoots all the time with him. Whether its a cute random flower patch, the soft neon signs outside of a boba shop, or graffiti painted onto a building wall, everything is an insta opportunity.

Xiao:

- That mysterious kid sitting in the back of your lecture wearing all black who is both undeniably hot and also exceedingly intimidating.

- Either an animal sciences major because animals are just better than humans, or he's like like history/english and spends a lot of time reading.

- He's that guy who stops communicating after the first day of your group project and you're really worried that they're just not going to finish their work but they end up sending it to you perfectly complete like a week early. Also, will talk/text you one-on-one but dislikes group meetings and group chats.

- He's in a band too! They actually play with Venti and his friends a lot and even though he admires him a lot, he's never gotten around to actually talking to Venti.

- Doesn't let people come over because then his frighteningly large collection of Funko-Pops and anime merch will be revealed.

- Also a dancer! He's not on a team or anything since he had some bad experiences with teams when he was younger, but he heads down to the studio at least 2 times a week just to move and let out some stress. If he offers to teach you sometime, that means he really really likes you.

- Asked if you wanted to go see the Demon Slayer movie with him and then showed up in a black mask and sunglasses because he didn't want anyone to recognize him.

Childe:

- Idk why but he kind of gives off athlete vibes??? Maybe like a basketball player or something?

- A bit of a campus celebrity just in that basically everyone, even if they aren't in the same major or aren't into sports, or just basically have no connection to him, still somehow know about him.

- He's a PR major and that charm is no joke. Some people kind of despise him because of the way he is literally able to effortlessly win over all of the recruiters and just random people he meets. He's extremely well-loved and he knows it.

- He's in a frat but outside of like mandatory events, doesn't spend all that much time with them. When he does party though, he goes hard.

- Doesn't actively flirt with anyone but he's just so charming and amiable that sometimes it comes across that way. Girls are always like "he's so respectful and nice I'm in love with him." He never feels the same way.

- Extremely competitive. Like the most competitive person you have literally ever met. He has to win everything and if he doesn't, he'll just keep trying and trying until he does. Literally the worst person to play beer pong with because he's not letting you go until he wins.

- Asks you to come to his games even though you barely even know the rules. If he does see you in the crowd, he gets way too hyped but plays the best he has all season. Make sure you take the credit for it.

Zhongli:

- That guy in your required philosophy class who argues with the professor. Not in an annoying "I'm smart and want an excuse to mansplain" kind of way though. He's actually just absurdly well-read and wants to discuss things instead of just listening to someone talk.

- People get annoyed with him because he's kind of disrupting class but if you actually listen to what he's saying, his ideas make a lot of sense and are kind of a mind-fuck at times.

- Has an extensive collection of plants at home and somehow manages to keep all of them alive and thriving. Also collects antique tea sets and goes to great lengths to make sure that they are taken care of.

- Probably actually a philosophy or anthropology major. Always has a new book recommendation and he's a darling who actually reads from every genre.

- Spends his free time going to museums in the area or visiting historical landmarks that are close enough to the university. Loves walking everywhere so that he can just take time to enjoy scenery and the like.

- You mention that there's a new exhibit at the local art gallery and he says that he's actually going there that evening if you would like to join him. And I mean, why would you refuse?

A.N. I'm gonna go back to studying now! Hope you enjoyed!