#Harmonics Facts and Questions

[somewhereinkissland]

“IT’S FILTHY, DISGUSTING, SO UGLY, I’M SURE

I'm ugly, disgusting, and filthy for sure”

You once questioned him on why he was so fond of the dark. He answered with something along the lines of the fact that he’s not able to see his own shadow.

Shaggy tufts of brown, nearly draped over his shoulders. The muzzle that hides the gash running from the corner of his lip along his cheek. He thinks it's so gross that it only proves worth when he emphasizes it with a sinister grin before he’s to kill. Because that’s what he is, made to kill.

But you see the beautiful grotesqueness in it all. The sound of an angel's choir, the deep harmonizing hums, is what he drags around with his hatchet and its blood. Along with his eyebags and bushy eyebrows. Along with the saliva strings and exposed bone and gums.

And it’s too what plays when he’s so rough with you, as nothing gets you higher than the taboo adrenaline.

[aouiaa]

INTRODUCING

barista!abby x trainee!reader

warnings and disclaimers included the following

## content of sexual wlw content [mdni 18+], a slight cameo of ellie williams and joel miller, a classic frenemies with ellie pie and abby bear, a mention of parental death, a mention of male genitalia, smut with somewhat plot, softdom!abby, sorta loser!abby (cutie pie), sub!reader, public sex (break room of coffee shop), usage of petnames (pretty girl), praising, orgasm denial (once), fingering, nipple play, cunnilingus, face sitting, cum eating, aftercare (fucking finally i write some), strong language.

barista!abby who’s also a student in business dreams of opening her own coffee shop in aspiration of honoring her father and love for books.

barista!abby who argues that she’s killing two birds with one stone since she’s building skill and working for her degree.

barista!abby whose such a SHOW OFF in front of girls she finds attractive, it so feeds into her ego when it works, and the girls are all ogling over her mastery at coffee art. yeah, it’s totally not the arms that are doing it for them.

barista!abby who hates that little red or whatever color haired fuck, ellie. the two have curated non-verbally a competition on basically whose dick is bigger. who makes the best batch, who makes this, who makes that. it’s never ending with these two.

barista!abby who’s convinced ellie in another lifetime was a king’s jester with her profound tricks that amused no one, but herself. the tricks themselves could threatened the woman’s head off alone, finding herself in a fetal position, in a pit of her own laughter. when abby eagerly sits on a unsuspecting “prize” during lunch, only to hear what can be described as a gust of wind. her flushed countenance instantly transformed into anger when the palm of her hand held a whoopee cushion.

barista!abby who went so warm when she saw you talking to the manager after ellie confirmed you were a new employee that if you stuck a thermometer under her tongue in that moment, it’d earn a hospital visit. and with ellie on sidelines teasing her for the state she’s in wasnt helping, unnecessarily quoting if she’s under weather, then rain on your home.

barista!abby who at the end of your shift on your first day surprised you with a free pastry as a warm, warm welcome. a small gesture, unfortunately, came with the price of a dispute with her boss, and money taken out of her week’s pay. amidst said scolding, a surprising opportunity came up. a good one at that, to train you at the expense of ellie’s days off of work to visit in her father, joel in their hometown, wyoming. despite the fact that she hardly listened after the inviting words of you, buzzed her mind with endless possibilities. it had her practically salivating at the numerous scenarios swirling around in her head.

barista!abby who’s a few weeks into training you, was losing her MIND over the taunting questions of you flirting or not. the causal strokes of your fingertips against her biceps alone were making the job harder. she had to get to the bottom of this, and like a detective corner you and have you plead for mercy.

barista!abby who, with an ironic twist, was usually consumed with thoughts, now found her mind solely preoccupied with you. her gaze fixed on the firm grip you maintained on the wooden handle, watching how your movements harmonized with its every swing as you rigorously mopped the floor. the purpose once held by the rag now seemed inconsequential as she leaned against the counter, arms folded, absentmindedly chewing on her lip. she imagined those hands of yours grasping onto her with the same unwavering hold they wielded when she stretched you out.

"take a picture, it'll last longer." you quipped, confidence resonating in your tone, and looking over your shoulder to show off the smirk that truly sells it. you knew she had been watching the entire time, and now had the satisfaction of catching in her act. she scoffed lightly, attempting to cover up her evident embarrassment, clearly trying to play it off.

“my phone’s in the locker, care to help?” she taunts.

barista!abby who watches you, utterly mesmerized by your frenzied movements against her fingers, pinned against the locker, using your hands as support to hold yourself up. the sounds you emitted resembled a blender running at full speed, loud enough to reach the nation if anyone had been nearby. thank god, it was just the two of you for the closing shift, dissipating the risk of scaring any customers away.

her ring and middle finger slid diligently in and out of you, while her right hand teased your hardened nipple between her pointer and thumb. her chin rests on your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses on the bruises that dotted your neck. the gorgeous blues remained fixed on your mouth, agape to let her hear the sweet sounds of your pleasure. the corners of her lips curl into a satisfied smirk as she watched you tremble at the touch of her curling fingers on your g-spot.

abby's precise movements brought you closer and closer to the brink, the sensation was almost too much to bear. but just as you were about to succumb to the pleasure, her fingers slipped from your grasp. confused and frustrated, you’re flipped onto your back against the metal, meeting the gaze of the master puppeteer.

"you think i’m was gonna let you come and not see this gorgeous face?" she teased, admiring your disheveled state.

you frowned in protest, "i was just about to cum, asshole."

"careful, or you won't at all." she warned, taking your hand and leading you to a bench nearby. "sit on my face, pretty girl. no holding back." she commanded, her eyes filled with anticipation.

this time, with no complaints, you willingly complied with this new plan. abby's capable hands gripped the plush of your thighs, guiding you down onto her waiting mouth. the moment her tongue made contact, a moan tore itself from your larynx as a newfound sensation washes over you. your hand streams through her mane, tugging at the strands as she laps through your petal soft lips.

your hip, limited to their range of motion, rut back and forth against her prominent features, your body orchestrating itself towards it’s imminent. it wasn't long before the tension building in your abdomen snapped, sending you through the throes of your orgasm. your release painting the lower half of her face.

talk about a clean up in aisle seven!

barista!abby who makes sure you’re beyond comfortable, delicate caresses and praises when taking care of you. she, even going the extra mile, makes you hot coco, watching the liquid slosh within the mug, as she approaches you with a soft “there you go.” in response, you flash a smile and gratitude. she stood there, hands on her hips, observing you savor the drink. a grin tugging at her lips as she took in the sight of her oversized jacket draped over your shoulders.

intrigued by her smile, you raise an eyebrow and playfully inquire, "hey, what’s got you smiling over there?"

she chuckles softly, a light hue of pink painting her cheeks as her gaze momentarily wavers. looking everywhere but you, she brushes it off with a scoff, scratching her cheek. “nothing, just…” there's a brief sight of contemplation before she inevitably hesitates, shaking her head with a sigh. "nothing, forget it.” she dismisses.

you let out a hearty laugh, setting your mug aside. leaning forward playfully, you tease gently. "are you really going shy on me? like werent you just eating me out a second ago.“ a smirk adorning your features as you tilt your head.

her smile grows nervous, scratching the back of her neck as her blush deepens. mumbling a curse under her breath, she gathers the courage to ask, "i was just wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me?"

i’ll let you be the judge of that. part two?

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED !

PERMANENT TAGLIST, @dyk3ang3l, @elliesprettygirl, @les4elliewilliams, @r3starttt, @slut4mascss, @marsworlddd, @bready101, @abbysleftbicepp, @airenaa, @caraphernellie, @astralnymphh, @whore87, @kaiilectric, @sapphicontherun, @mikellie, @nihilisticangelbby, @be3flow3r, @ppuussyyy, @clairoscharm, @lvlymicha, @brackishkittie, @loveyru, @drunkonnatasha, @leosw0rld, @visupremacysstuff

[zeroseuniverse]

hey, I just saw your SKZ “Types of Cuddlers” thing and I was wondering if you could maybe do one of the members reacting to their S/O secretly being an AMAZING singer

(Preferably in the car while listening to the radio)

OFC OFC

Here is....

Stray Kids reacting to their S/O being a good singer secretly

Bang Chan

Chan is always humming along to the radio, so when you casually start singing along, he doesn't think much of it—until you really get into it. His head snaps toward you, eyes widening as he forgets about the road for a second. "Wait—EXCUSE ME? Since when could you sing like that?!" He’s immediately hyping you up, turning down the music just to hear you better. By the time you finish, he’s already planning a whole studio session. "We’re recording this when we get home. No, this isn't up for debate. I need this on a track—please, baby."

Lee Know

Minho’s driving with one hand on the wheel, casually vibing, when you start singing. At first, he side-eyes you, but when you hit a high note flawlessly, he nearly swerves. "What the hell was that?" He plays it cool but turns the music down ever so slightly, just to hear more. When you stop, he just raises a brow. "Why are you acting like you didn’t just sing better than half the idols out there? Explain." He might act nonchalant, but trust me, he’ll be begging you to sing for him again when you least expect it.

Changbin

Changbin’s rapping along to the song, fully in the moment, when suddenly, your vocals steal the show. He stops mid-bar, his jaw dropping as he turns to stare at you like you just grew wings. "HUH?! Babe, what was that?! Why do you sound like a literal OST singer??" He’s shook, and now he refuses to let you stop. He even starts replaying the song so you can sing it again, hyping you up like a proud fan. "You better sing every song from now on. This is our thing now."

Hyunjin

Hyunjin is just enjoying the ride, scrolling on his phone while you sing along absentmindedly. Then, your voice hits, and his head snaps up so fast it might give him whiplash. "Wait. WAIT. Since when could you sing like that?!" He’s dramatically clutching his chest like he just fell in love all over again. "I need you to sing to me every day from now on. No exceptions." Would 100% start recording you on his phone while fake crying.

Han

Han’s all about music, so when you start belting out a song like a pro, he goes through all five stages of shock in two seconds. First, his jaw drops, then his hands are in his hair, and then he’s physically shaking you. "BABE—HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS?!" He immediately starts harmonizing with you, but let’s be real—he’s mostly hyping you up. By the end, he’s convinced you must have been a singer in a past life. "We’re doing karaoke as soon as we get home. I don’t care what plans we had—this is more important."

Felix

Felix is driving peacefully, just enjoying the moment, when you casually start singing. At first, he smiles—then he really listens. His eyes go wide, and he suddenly pulls over. "I need a moment. WHAT was that?!" He’s staring at you like you just unlocked a hidden talent he never knew about. Immediately starts asking questions: "Why haven’t you told me? Can you do that again? Wait, are you secretly an idol?!" He’s so soft about it, though. From now on, he’ll beg you to sing him to sleep.

Seungmin

Seungmin is one of those people who wouldn’t react right away. He’d just stare at you while driving, trying to process the fact that his S/O has a golden voice. "Huh. So you’ve just been hiding this from me?" But the moment you’re done, his teasing starts. "You think you’re better than me now? Should we battle? Should I call JYP?" He’s acting unserious, but deep down, he’s genuinely impressed. Expect him to request random songs just to hear you sing again.

I.N

Jeongin’s jamming out, not expecting much, until you casually body the vocals. He gasps so dramatically you think something’s wrong. "YOU CAN SING?!" His hands are gripping the wheel like he’s shook. He immediately starts grinning, turning down the volume just to hear you better. "No, no, keep going! You sound so good!" He’s so excited about it that he’ll probably keep bringing it up for days, telling the rest of the members like he just discovered a secret treasure. "Guys, my S/O has been hiding their vocal skills from me. I feel betrayed but also so blessed."

[amelee23]

Waiting for the rain to fall | Lmh

 Synopsys: Minho takes a vacation to the rural area to escape his nightmares. Instead, he finds drought and desolation in the fields and begins to question why he feels so condemned; what exactly his soul searches for.

Genre: Reunited past life lovers, Romance, Angst, Fluff, Supernatural

Pairing: Lee Minho x female reader

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Minho-centric in the beginning but the romance appears I swear, reader is perhaps not a human, mentioned character death (in past lives), there's comfort to the angst, discourse on divinity and Gods, happy ending (?), reader has female pronouns, one natural disaster

A/N: Written completely based off the picture above. Before the video even came out.

Please reblog and comment! 

“Wake up.

It’s raining.”

A soft female voice spoke these words to Minho, in a dream, somewhere far away in the hidden parts of his mind, and yet so close to his first waking moments; it was almost as if feather-like lips briefly grazed his ears as he stirred awake.

As the morning light greeted his tired eyes, he realized that he was spared from nightmares the past night. This familiar, kind voice was somewhat comforting, although he couldn’t tell who it belonged to - a figure of his imagination, a distant memory, repeated words of romance movies? Still, the fact that he wasn’t troubled by disturbing images in his sleep brought him a sense of peace, and so he was able to have a calm start to his day. Vintage style, he boiled water in a kettle and mixed it with coffee and sugar, stirring it generously to create delicious foam. As he ate his toast and drank his coffee, he stared into the looming nothingness of the fields.

He had returned to the farmhouse, a place he doesn’t frequently visit and yet it always calls to him. The house belonged to the elders of the family, but after deciding it was better for their health to move them to the city and closer to the rest of the family, they sold the house to the neighbours. Having grown up with said neighbours, Minho is allowed to visit whenever he likes, to use the spare room and relax in nature. 

That morning everyone else was already out in the field - he decided against joining them on the first day of his vacation. Truth be told, he was exhausted. The lack of sleep and stress ran him dry, and as much as he knows working the fields will bring his soul some healing, he wants to take it slow in the beginning. So, he grabbed one of the books he packed, stepped outside into the hot sun and sat on the porch. It was just him, Jules Verne, and the dry cracked earth around the house.

The sea monster, the submarine and underwater adventures described by Jules Verne trapped Minho in a bubble, a bubble of air floating in and out of the water, in and out of existence. Before he knew it, despite the cup of coffee he had just drunk, he became drowsy and fell asleep.

“I don’t blame you for leaving me behind.” The voice said, gently, like a whisper, a song of the sirens harmonizing with the chaotic percussion of the waves hitting against each other. The water was flowing, and it was bubbling, and it was restless. Without any mercy, he was being strung along the waves, without any rock to hold on to, without any trace of another human in sight. It was raining, and it was cold, and it was violent. But more than anything, the water threatened to swallow him whole, drown him in a river of guilt.

He was guilty, is what he thought upon waking up. His hands were shaking and he was drenched in sweat, and a dull ache clawed at his heart, making him regret something unknown, making him long for something he cannot describe, making him search for answers to a question he didn’t know how to phrase. 

Since being alone didn’t do him any good, Minho decided to join his old neighbours on the fields. Driving down the beaten path stirred up clouds of dust in his wake, and Minho wondered how come the situation had become so dreadful. Exactly as imagined, he found his peers having a heated debate over the poor crop condition.  

“The irrigation system simply cannot keep up. Fertilizer doesn’t help, and even changing the seeds was useless. It’s been months since this drought… “

It was quite silly, he thought. Searching for an alternative solution to the obvious one was foolish and useless. It was like searching for a needle in a haystack, chasing after something that does not exist. The only thing that could possibly solve the drought is the rain. 

Minho was very disappointed in his vacation. There was little to no fieldwork to be done, and to add to that, his nightmares didn’t seem to ease up. When he felt the call to visit the farmhouse, he thought it was his intuition telling him he needed a break from the city, from work, from the bustling social life. He had thought that the cozy rural life, the fresh food and the return to simple things would heal him, but it wasn’t so. The next night Minho woke up with his throat burning, his nose aching, hands springing to hold his neck. He was suffocating, his whole being was clogged up, filled up with something very foreign and very confusing. 

In his anxious, frantic movement, there was a sudden jolt of the elbow which resulted in him tipping over his glass of water which was on the nightstand. He went to get out of bed to clean, but as his feet left the bed, they landed in the puddle of water. He cringed at the feeling. It was cold.  

Usually, harvest season was a very fulfilling time for Minho. Even though the crops weren’t his and he’d earn no money from helping, he always would. Something about the hard work, the physical labour, was very rewarding to him. Seeing the baskets of goodies before him and the look of joy in people’s eyes when they bought fresh ingredients from the market, it was all he needed. The air was fresher, the people were kinder, and although lady nature sometimes had something to say in the matter, it felt as if people were really getting fair rewards for all the hard work they did.

However, fair is not a word Minho would use while looking at the fields this year. They have been looking inside shallow holes for potatoes for hours now, and the results were disappointing to say the least. The potatoes were either really small or shrivelled up beyond belief, with not a lot left to salvage. The tomato harvest was also subpar, and the barrels were mostly devoid of grapes. 

Seeing the barrels lined up in front of the house with nothing inside them gave Minho an uneasy feeling. The fields were empty, the barrels were empty, there was this looming sense of absence, of loss, filling the air.  

The nightmares wouldn’t stop, either. He kept being carried by the currents, rolling down a river with no beginning and no end, with no control over his destiny. All of these water related dreams made him conflicted about the coming of rain; it was the one thing this town needed to be revived, and yet, after spending so many nights drowning, Minho was afraid the rain might be the end of him, the end of everything. 

Exhaustion began to make itself known on his body; he had deep circles under his eyes, his hands were shaking while holding his coffee; he became clumsy and grumpy. Yet, he refused to lay down and rest, he pleaded to be taken back into the fields, because the bed and his mind terrified him. He was starting to realise he was truly, terribly, unwell.

Despite his pleas, his neighbours refused to allow him to come along and told him to relax at the farmhouse for the day. It was exactly what Minho didn’t wish to happen, for the loneliness made reality be a little too real. When people were around he could pretend he was alright, he could pretend to belong, but in the deafening silence he could hear the water splash inside his skull. 

He had always been alone, even in the city. The escape from the urban to the rural was mostly an excuse, the search for silence was a ruse. He was running away from loneliness in a place where he wouldn’t feel guilty for being alone. And yet, as he looked out the window at the blazing sun and listened to the house settle and creak, he realized he didn’t wish to be alone. He wished for something other than dread to fill his heart, to complete him and take away from the burden of dealing with himself every day. A selfish request, maybe, but he desperately wished that someone would know him, that someone would let him know what exactly he’s lacking. 

Perhaps he shouldn’t be alone, perhaps he should stop running away from his issues. Those are the thoughts he had as he began to pack his luggage and fill in the trunk of his car. It was time he returned to the city to seek the help of a professional who would know how to deal with these dreadful nightmares. 

The owners of the farmhouse didn’t consider letting him drive alone was a good idea, but they couldn’t stop him. Minho had an almost scary look in his eyes, like a man on a mission. He was barreling on through another attempt at escapism.

He kept telling himself that things will work out. He will seek medical help, read some self development books and finally figure himself out. Nature couldn’t have helped him when his issues were so much more deep than he thought. 

Without any sort of prior warning, his car stopped moving. Exasperated, after checking the fuel gauge, Minho exited his car to inspect the wheels. He couldn’t see any flat tire with the naked eye, which most likely meant it was a very sudden engine issue. While he did open the hood of the car and looked inside, he wasn’t skilled enough to know what was wrong, if anything was wrong at all. Plopping himself back into the driver’s seat, he decided to call the farmhouse neighbour, since he had some mechanical knowledge. Thankfully, there was service, and Minho was informed it would take a while before he could be aided. 

With a long, deep sigh, he lowered his head onto the steering wheel and closed his eyes.Things weren’t meant to work in his favour, maybe. Perhaps he was being punished for something he did in a past life, something he was unaware of. Whatever god he might have pissed off, he was ready to beg and to repent, to plead sweet mercy for his soul. 

“Please.” He whispered softly to himself, to no one in particular. Life was being really, really tough and unfair to him, and he could feel himself tethering on the edge. 

A certain booming sound attracted Minho’s attention, and he lifted his head up in a hurry. Looking through the windshield, he observed something which left his mouth agape.

The sky was dark. 

Grey, almost black.

He rushed out of the car and slammed the door behind him, taking a few brave steps in front of the car. Through the branches of the trees he could see that darkness loom over; that darkness brought to Minho a new sense of hope. As he stood, mouth half open and eyes glued to the sky above, the first splat or rain landed on his face. Then another, then another.

He was done running. Minho opened his arms to welcome the rain, to let her drown him if that’s what she wished. The cold droplets trickling down his neck send rejuvenating shocks throughout his body. He took one long breath and realized he could finally breathe.  

Every pit and every pat of rain hitting his leather jacket was like a whisper, a little secret he was being told, of divinity, of the beyond…

He could barely keep his eyes open with the intensity of the rain. He was completely drenched but he didn’t mind, the cold was completely bearable, the water was familiar and comforting. Extending one arm forward, to catch some drops in his palm, to hold the hand of rain, he noticed a faint glowing silhouette form in front of him. It was an outline almost of mist, a living creature, pale and shining like the water surface of the Arctic. 

The silhouette began to shape into a woman with human traits, her ghostly appearance being contrasted by the kind and warm smile she wore. Carefully arranged into her hair was a slim, silver crown which draped one single blue crystal on her forehead. The ethereal crystal told Minho she was the rain, the Goddess herself.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen; in fact, she was the only beautiful woman in the world. 

She reached for Minho’s outstretched hand, and when they touched he shivered - that shiver shook his heart to such a degree that he felt like he finally awoke. He felt he finally understood something.

“My love…” He said to her, and the glistening droplets on her face were not rain drops, they were tears. “My wife.” He stepped close to her, grasping her other hand. All the love he had been storing in his body suddenly burst out, and although he couldn’t fully understand how he knew she was his lover, he was certain of it.

“My darling heart…” She spoke to him, softly, sweetly, with that voice that has been watching over him for so many months.

“Please, help me understand. I’ve been searching for you my whole life, I’ve been missing you until I fell to pieces… Please.” He pleaded, urgency in his voice. As if he was fragile, he dropped his hands and held his head, slowly dragging his forehead towards her. The moment he made contact with the crystal droplet, Minho’s memories came back.

He was born the son of a farmer of the village. He loved his parents, he was a good kid. When he grew older, he fell in love with the daughter of the shepherd. They were two simple people, they loved the smell of rain, the cold air of the morning, they danced and played in the rain, in between the apple trees and herd dogs. They got married, he took over his father’s land and she began to spin wool just like her mother. 

Disaster struck them at the end of summer; neverending rain would destroy their roofs, give people the shivers, drown and kill the crops. While they were trying to stay warm inside the house, speaking warmly to each other of better futures, of beautiful future children, the river overflowed and the entire village was swept in merciless waves. 

There was screaming, there was crying, and there was water. Water destroyed their houses, water killed their livestock, water drowned everyone below. 

There was a boat, one singular one built in a haste by the carpenters. It was supposed to carry them all to safety, but she refused to leave. On what appeared to be crumbling remains of a house, a child and an infant were crying for their mother, who wasn’t there with them anymore. Minho’s wife rushed for the children, and Minho fought with the current to help them cross over towards the boat. By the time she had reached the children and cradled them to her body, Minho was knocked unconscious by a wine barrel flowing down the stream. She screamed for him, screamed for the rest of the villagers, but no one listened to her anguished voice.

The villagers managed to fish Minho’s unconscious body out of the water, and he awoke hours later, screaming and crying after his lost wife. He punched the village chief in the face and almost got thrown out of the boat; next town over they were rescued and given clothes and food, but he remained on the dock, staring into the horizon, waiting. He waited for years, and yet she never came back to him. At old age, he died, alone.

Minho woke up from his memories, the rain engulfing him in a warm hug. As drops turned into a warm summer downfall, he began to understand the deepest secrets of his life.

“Did you die?” He asked, and she shook her head with a smile.

“The Gods saved me. They turned me into the Rain Goddess, to protect the lands from disaster.”

“And I got reincarnated because I left you, right? I should have been there to save you…” Minho held her pale face in his hands, his guilt and torment finally finding themselves a reason. She once more shook her head.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He apologized sincerely, his wet eyes looking directly into hers. Those eyes were just as mesmerizing as he remembered them. Her body was no longer human, no longer warm, there was no heart beating in her chest. And yet, she was breathtaking, his one and only choice in every lifetime.

“Don’t apologize, my love.” She said playfully, letting a drop fall from her fingertip to his nose. He scrunched up his nose at the gesture, and for the first time in a lifetime, Minho smiled. 

“Shall we?” He asked, wrapping his arm against her fluid, watery waist and guiding her hand in a dancing position. She beamed at him, and they began to spin, in a dance that spun ripples around their feet, a dance that made raindrops bounce off their bodies. A giggle tumbling off her lips was enough to heal Minho through all of his ailments, to bring him all the answers he was looking for. 

Nothing was confusing anymore. All the answers had set into his mind, and he knew there was only one possible path for him to take.

He reached forward to kiss her lips, and was met with the most crystal clear taste of water he’s ever felt; the most pure and refreshing heart he’s ever held in his hands, the most nourishing love in the world. She was the water keeping him alive.

“I should go now, it has rained enough.” Although it was clearly visible she didn’t want to separate from her long lost lover, she had duties he could never understand as a human. The relationship between man and his deity has always been a little complicated.

“Don’t go.” 

“I have to.” She said with an awkward smile.

“Take me with you.” At such a response, she laughed and shook her head. 

“I’ll see you next time it rains, my dear.” 

Just a few seconds of thinking it over made Minho understand that could never be enough for him. Minutes of rain could never soothe his drought. He needed more than a kiss, more than a dance, he needed to breathe, he needed to love.

“No.” He replied bluntly. “I’m not afraid of the beyond anymore. I’ve been there before. There is nothing for me here. There isn’t, there won’t, just like there wasn’t ever anything important to me besides you-”

“My darling heart, please-”

“I’m not afraid to drown. Please, take me with you. Take me home.”

“I love you, my darling heart. We’ll meet again soon.” With that, she disappeared and nothing remained but raindrops. Soon, those too went away and the sky cleared up, not even leaving behind a trail of mist. There was nothing for him to grasp onto anymore, no hand to hold,

Minho fell to his knees and began to sob. His soul has been waiting, yearning, longing for her for decades, if not hundreds of years. There was no point to existence if their hearts don’t interweave again.

The rumbling of another car in the distance brought to his attention that his neighbor had found him. He wiped off his tears and pretended to be fine, dazed out of his mind, his heart a glass shattering over and over again. 

He didn’t go back to the farmhouse. Instead, he drove forward on the highway as if there was nothing behind him to ever find again. He didn’t have a reason for heading home, but he did so anyway. The sky was clear and so his mind was clouded. 

By the time he arrived in his hometown, it was night; the streetlights were the only things standing tall on the street besides Minho. Before he could even realize, a raindrop fell onto his shoulder, feeling almost as if he was tapped. He turned around in a haste and was greeted by his Goddess, smiling at him through the raindrops. The sky was clouded, so his mind was clear.

“I’ll never truly be away from you again, my darling heart.” She giggled, stealing a quick kiss from his smiling lips. “Shall we?” She mocked, grabbing him and spinning him into a dance in the middle of the street. “I’ve found a way for us to be together.”

The Gods had agreed to gift her a lake of her own, in which she could live and materialize herself whenever her powers weren't needed. This was fantastic news for Minho, who wasted no time in buying himself the cabin attached to that lake. In the intimacy of the forest, of the lake, of the mosquitos and the woodpeckers, Minho would sit by the water and stargaze with his lover every night. 

They would fantasize about future lives together, about being stars in the same constellation, about the kind of house they’d love to own together. Their kisses were watery, their dreams were impossible, but their bond was unbreakable. If one looked at them from a distance, where their silhouettes would blend in with the horizon, one wouldn’t be able to tell one was temporal and one was atemporal. 

It was almost a normal love story, but the relationship between man and his deity has always been a little complicated.

©amelee23 do not copy, translate or repost

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[emmcfrxst]

Hear me out… lil blurb of old man Logan and reader just slow dancing together to find comfort, despite all of the evil going on around them 😭

okay so i got carried away and tweaked the prompt a little bit. this is fluff with a spoonful of angst. little more than 900 words. reader’s gender/characteristics are not specified but it’s implied that you’re shorter than logan. putting the drabble under the cut as to not clog the tags <3 inspired by lyrics from The Mountain Goats’ song Sax Rohmer #1

The soft melody of the rain outside harmonizes with the dull buzzing of the old, beat up fridge you’re leaning against, a glass of water cradled between your palms. Your gaze falls on Logan as he walks through the front door, droplets of water gliding down the exhausted lines of his face. He says nothing as he sheds off his suit jacket, eyes lingering on you for a moment before he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow arched in question.

“Couldn’t sleep?” his voice sends pleasant tingles down your spine; the rich, raspy quality of it enveloping you with his every word. You wish he’d speak more often— you would love nothing more than to drown in the depths of his voice, but Logan is a man of very few words, and you’ve long since made your peace with the realization that not much could ever change that part of him; and you wouldn’t want to, either. Your relationship with him may be complicated at times, but you remain certain of the depth of your feelings for Logan— you’ve come to love him as he is, not interested in trying to modify the results of over two centuries of pain and loss; his past is part of who he is, and you love that person wholeheartedly.

“Was waiting for you.” the softness of your tone seems to reflect the look in his eyes as he steps forward, clothes leaving a trail of droplets behind. Your eyelids flutter lightly once his hands are on you, curling around your hips like they have done so many times before— it’s been years of living by his side, but his touch still manages to set your insides alight with the kind of trepidation that one feels for their first love. You move forward until your chests are touching, rain quickly saturating the shirt you’re wearing— one of his; an older, more tattered one you’ve held onto all this time, as if needing proof of your shared past. You wrap your arms around Logan’s neck, tilting your head upwards so your foreheads can meet in a tender press, his beard tickling the top of your lip. Up close, you can see the array of new bruises making their home on his handsome face, a frown downturning the curve of your lips.

“M’okay.” he mumbles quietly, already expecting you to point it out— these days, you find that you don’t really have to say anything anymore, whether it be from the synchronization of your souls or your lover’s dismissal of any and every concern about the changes in his physicality; Logan has a way of soothing your worries away with a tender brush of his lips on your forehead, sincerity enveloping his tone like a warm blanket on a cold day. He knows his limits, and after a series of tearful confessions between the worn out sheets of your shared bed, he knows not to push them too much so as to not upset you. Nodding in response, you let your nose rub against his, comforted by the fact that he will tell you about the events that led to the purple blooms across his skin all in due time— it would end up being a group of drunks like usual, anyway; a small pack of testosterone filled idiots emboldened by the alcohol and refusing to pay for the services Logan offered them. Nothing I can’t handle, he would add afterwards, cradling the side of your face with a tenderness very few people have ever seen the great Wolverine exude. You’re okay with pushing all of these thoughts to the side for now, anyways— focus on him, because he kept his promise to you again today

I’ll always come home to you.

“Dance with me.” your lips brush against his as you whisper out your demand, making Logan raise one eyebrow at you playfully.

“There’s no music.” he states as if that was obvious— because it is, but under the dim lights of the kitchen, here with him in this moment, you can’t bring yourself to care. A soft chuckle leaves him when you shrug lightly, your lover’s head tilting down to give you a proper kiss; the first one since he arrived a handful of minutes ago.

“Doesn’t matter. Just wanna feel you.” your explanation makes his heart ache, idly wondering if he would survive the tearing open of his chest in an attempt to gift you the appendage— it would be worth the pain, and there is no one else he would die for like the way he would for you. It belongs to you anyway, he thinks serenely.

“Alright.” he ends up saying, voice laced with layers upon layers upon layers of tenderness. He takes a moment to memorize the way your eyes light up at his acceptance, wanting to take the visual away with him were he to meet an untimely death the next time he steps through the threshold of your front door— he wouldn’t go down without a fight, but he’s old and tired and aching and although he denies it when it comes to you, he knows his body doesn’t heal the way it used to; there is a chance, every time he leaves for work, that he won’t be able to keep his promise of coming home to you, but he will try anyways— would come home with blood pouring out of his mouth if it meant getting to hold you for one more night. You make it worth it. You make him want to live.

You rest your forehead on his shoulder, body swaying along with his as he kisses the crown of your head in silent reverence.

Tomorrow may not be guaranteed, but none of that matters tonight as you wrap yourself around him, dancing around the kitchen in the moonlight, anchoring him with the steadiness of your heartbeat and giving him something to fight for for a little longer.

[buckys-forgotten-plum]

A Lesson in Love {2}

College!AU

Smarty Pants!Bucky x Cheerleader!Reader

Synopsis: Being a newly metamorphosed social butterfly certainly has its perks: an amazing friend group, a position on the cheer squad you’ve dreamed about for years, and the ability to make connections everywhere you go. Unfortunately, it doesn't make you any better at Linear Algebra, enter Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Cursing, awkward reader, James Barnes being a menace, probs cringy writing, most definitely not proofread <3

A/N: Part 2! Hooray! I’m not super happy with it, but to be fair i’m never happy with my work so whomp whomp to me. Hopefully you guys like it, next part will intro a new character and perhaps some drama will occur~

Part one

~~~~~~~~~~

Fluorescent light floods the space, the fixtures letting out a quiet hum that harmonizes with the consistent drone of the radiator up against the wall. The windows do little to help light up the room as overcast skies tease the possibility of rain. The room is warm, a contrast to the uncharacteristically chill weather outside, and with the calming white noise, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone used the space as more of a nap pod than a study room located in your university’s library.

And yet, even with what some would consider the perfect environment-

“I think I’m dying,” You groan, head slowly falling to rest upon the cool surface of the desk, “Seriously, I can feel the life draining from my body as we speak.”

An amused snort sounds from directly beside you, ”You’re not dying, just dramatic,”

Your head whips up at the accusation, eyebrows furrowed as your lips puff out into a frowning pout, “How could you say that? Look at me, I’m wasting away! Whoever invented this stuff should be burned at the stake” you grumble quietly and hold your glare on the man next to you.

James lets out a boisterous laugh, relaxing back into the office chair he’s sat in as he tilts his head and raises a curious brow at you, “Have you eaten today, Sugar? It’s nearly 1 o’clock and we’ve been here for over two hours,”

The pout adorning you face solidifies as he zeroes in on your failure to eat, “I got distracted while getting ready and didn’t have time to grab anything before heading over,” You break away from James’ gaze and stare down at your notebook, a small wave of embarrassment washing over you.

The reason you didn’t have time to eat was due to the fact you had to stand in front of your bathroom mirror for an extra 15 minutes to keep yourself from bailing out of the study session entirely. It had been two weeks since you had sat next to the brunette man that complimented your stickers and called you a sweet pet name, and those two weeks had been the most socially awkward you’ve felt since you had graduated high school. The stuttering, stumbling, word-vomiting self you had tried so hard to shove down into the dark depths of your mind had made a startling appearance in the last few weeks and you were struggling to understand why. All confidence left you as soon as James entered your eyeline, and frankly, it was making you spiral.

Was it his looks? No, that can’t be it. All of your friends were major hotties so you’d gotten used to being around ethereal beauty.

Was it the pet names? Also no, Stevie and Lena gave you pet names within the first week of knowing you!

Was it how close he always insisted on being to you? That-well that certainly wasn’t helping the situation. He’s just so warm and his cologne is to die for-

“Hey Sweets? You okay over there?” Your head jerks back up and whips over to find James looking at you with mild concern clouding his eyes.

“Oh what? Yea-no, or yes, yes I’m okay! Why do you ask?” Your hand subconsciously balls into a fist as you silently will the burn in your cheeks to subside. Pull yourself together for god's sake!

“I asked if you wanted to go grab something to eat and you kinda just…zoned out?” His questioning eyes were trained on your face, looking over your features to see if he could find a clue to your strange behavior.

”Right! Sorry, I guess maybe the lack of eating really is getting to me,” You mumble quietly.

James leans towards you, laying a gentle hand on your shoulder before nodding, “That’s alright, let’s go get you something to eat-“

Before he could finish his offer, he was interrupted by the familiar buzz of his phone on the table. Your classmate immediately slaps his hand down onto the device and silences it, letting out a quiet sigh. Curiosity overtakes your embarrassment and you look at your study partner inquisitively, “That's like the third time someone’s called you, maybe you should answer it this time?”

He shakes his head and smiles down at you as he stands, “Nah it’s nothing important. C’mon, I know a really good diner that’s right off campus,” He doesn’t wait for any confirmation before putting your notebook away and slinging both your bags over his broad shoulder.

You stare up at him for a moment, a little stunned at his boldness and questioning if he was joking or not, “A-are you sure? Because the test tomorrow seems like it’s gonna be pretty difficult and I’m not sure if I’ve done enough prep work yet.”

James gives you an understanding nod, “You’re not gonna retain anything if you’re starving, Sugar. Once we get some food in you, I promise we’ll come back here and finish studying.”

“Yeah I guess you’re right, does the diner have good french fries?” You look up at James with hopeful eyes as the thought of one of your favorite foods comes to mind.

He snorts out a laugh and nods his head, “Yes the diner has excellent french fries.”

———————

Thankfully, James wasn’t lying when he said the diner wasn’t too far away, as the weather seemed to only worsen as time passed. By the time you had arrived and James was kindly holding the door to the restaurant open for you, a chill had settled deep within your body, the wind had picked up dramatically and the clouds had darkened even more in color.

“Spring storm I guess? If it gets any worse we can just wait it out here, they have free WiFi and everything so we’ll be all set,” James comments as he leads you over to a small booth in the corner with a window that gives a perfect view for the upcoming storm.

You nod and begin to take in your surroundings. It certainly wasn’t the most modern diner you had ever been in, kind of reminded you of the one your grandparents would take you to as a kid. The dark green upholster on all the seats was worn, even cracked in some booths, and the floor looked like it had seen better days. But the waitress that greeted you was friendly and the smells coming from the kitchen window were making your mouth water.

”Hey Bucky! How’s your day goin’? Who’s your little friend here?” The chirping voice of the waitress brings you back to the surface of your mind as she approaches the table.

Your head tilts curiously at the unfamiliar name, but you quickly recover to smile up at the middle aged woman as James replies.

“Hi Donna,” James replies, a bright smile on his face as he introduces you as his new study partner, “It’s going good, just taking a break from studying for a bit, how about yourself?”

The waitress replies enthusiastically, recounting her day and telling James about her son giving her a hard time when getting ready for school earlier in the morning. James, (or Bucky?) laughs at her story before quickly glancing towards you with a smile, “You want anything to drink, Sugar?”

You’re taken off guard by the question thrown your way, “O-oh sorry, um yeah- Could I have like a hot chocolate maybe?”

”Hot chocolate huh?” James looks at you, his eyes still crinkled into that charming smile.

You once again feel your cheeks flare up as you realize the childish order, “O-or coffee, I mean, coffee is good!” You glance between the waitress, Donna, and James, silently hoping now that you’ve ordered they could go back to talking.

“Oh don’t let him tease you, sweetheart. Our hot coco is to die for here, and I like to dress it up with all the fixin’s so don’t you worry,” She smiles down at you and gives you a mischievous wink before jotting your order down on a notepad.

You mumble a quiet thanks and immerse yourself in the menu that was slipped onto the table earlier. James gives his order to Donna before stating you’d both need a couple minutes to decide what you’d like to eat. As your waitress departs to begin fulfilling your orders, James turns his attention back to you. You fail to notice his stare as your attention remains locked onto the pages of the menu, and it’s not until you’re deciding between pancakes or a burger that he breaks your focus.

A little ball of paper hits your forehead, taking you by surprise and causing you to let out a grumble of discontent, “What the hell James?”

You look up from your menu, surprised by the plastic cups of water Donna had managed to deliver without disturbing you and realizing the object that hit you must have been a balled up straw wrapper. You glare down at the little piece of ammo before fixing your glare onto James’ mischievously glinting eyes, “Can I help you?”

His smile widens and he moves to lean his forearms on the table, his eyes turning from mischief to intensity as they narrow, “Yeah, actually you can,” he nods before leaning forward even more, “What’s your deal, Sugar?”

You instinctively try to lean further back into your own seat but only meet a wall, “What do you mean ‘what’s my deal’? What’s your deal, Bucky?” Your eyes narrow just like his, and even though you’re basically plastering yourself against the wall of the booth, you try to look as intimidating as possible.

‘Bucky’ leans over the table even more, comically so to the point where he’s basically kneeling on the bench, inadvertently making you let out some garbled hybrid of laughter and discomfort, “How do you know about that name?” He asks accusingly, his right hand shooting out to point a finger in your face.

You guffaw, face contorting into a look of absolute disbelief as you go to defend yourself, “James the waitress literally called you that like five minutes ago,” You deadpan, no wonder this guy was failing your math class.

James somehow manages to narrow his eyes even more and it starts a staring (or glaring) contest between you both. Your expression changes from disbelief at his cartoonish reaction, to unamused as you refuse to let him win the silly challenge. The two of you sit in silence for who knows how long, your eyes are beginning to feel a slight sting on your waterline and you’re almost sure James is cheating with how squinted he’s made his eyes. You nearly give in just to end the ridiculous game when suddenly two mugs of hot coco, brightly decorated in whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles, are unceremoniously set down on the table. The loud clap of ceramic on wood makes both of you break and look up at Donna who is sporting an awkward, albeit friendly, smile.

“Everything alright over here?” She asks, glancing between you and James as she cautiously slides each mug towards their respective owner.

“All good over here Donna! You ready to order some food, Sweets?” James’ suspicion has completely melted away as he now casually leans against the back of the booth, sporting a lopsided grin.

“I-Uh yeah, yeah I guess so…” You murmur, quickly flipping through your menu again and making sure you recite the correct menu item to Donna as you order.

Donna makes sure to jot down both yours and James’ orders, along with any modifications that were requested before quickly making her way back to the kitchen, leaving you and James in another drought of silence. You take the chance to look around the diner once again, trying to ignore the feeling of James staring at you from across the table. You hear the faint scraping of ceramic sliding across the table and before you’re able to tear your eyes away from the downpour happening outside the window, James is out of his seat and gliding right back into yours, unabashedly crowding into you.

His right arm goes up to drape across the back of the booth while his left rests on the edge of the wood table. As soon as you notice what’s happening, a squeak of surprise pushes out of your lips and you begin to scoot closer to the window, James immediately following you and effectively trapping you in the corner of the booth. His cologne surrounds you, the warm, spicy scent of cinnamon takes over your senses and the body heat that begins to radiate off of him and on to you nearly sends you into a spiral.

“You didn’t answer my question, Honey Bee,” James hums smoothly, his eyes hooded as he looks down at you.

You immediately want to tell him that nickname is reserved for Steve but are unable to as you become distracted by how positively close he is to you. You’re able to make out details never before noticed from your previous, appropriately distanced, encounters. Every impossibly long eyelash that brushes against his sharp, freckle dusted cheekbones, the different hues of blue that marble his icy pupils, the rough stubble that signifies the beginning of a beard.

It feels like lava is injected into your veins and a fiery heat races up your neck to the tips of your ears. You stutter out a few incomprehensible words, trying to look anywhere but at the man who is taking up most of your field of vision. Your hands clench into stressed fists as they clam up from a mix of stress and shear shyness.

“I-I don’t… I’m not really sure w-what your-what you could be talking about James,” You mutter quietly, continuing to push yourself up against the window to achieve a modicum of space.

“That right there,” James nods in your direction, “Sweetheart, you’re known as the campus’ social butterfly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not talking to somebody, but whenever we get together for our study sessions you go all-“ He waves a hand haphazardly towards your scrunched up form, “gooey,” He finishes with finality, dropping his waving hand back down onto the table.

You don’t say it out loud, but gooey is a far cry to what you feel right now, tight and strung out, waiting for your strings to finally reach their limit before they inevitably snap.

James only waits a moment before speaking again, “It’s like every time we get together you wanna melt into the floor, you never want to push too hard, or your always bending to what you think I’d prefer. I know you aren’t like that with anyone else, Sugar. I saw you try to put Roger’s into a headlock last week and-“

”Y-you know Steve?” You interrupt suddenly, your brows furrowing curiously as you finally turn your gaze to James.

His reaction to your question makes it look like you caught him in some type of lie, and you actually start to think you might actually have. Ever since you had talked to James that day in your lecture, neither him nor Steve had made any indication of knowing each other, even if one was brought up by you in conversation with the other.

”Oh uhm…” James actually scoots back a bit, giving you the space to take a much needed breath. He breaks your gaze and glances around the booth, nervously tapping his index finger against the table, “I mean-y’know everybody kinda just, like, knows each other, ya know?”

You look at him, perplexed by the out of character reaction, “I guess, but you called him Roger’s and he only lets his close friends call him that.” Your head tilts as you look over the man's strange demeanor, “So do you guys know each other or…?”

”I think we should change the subject-“ He starts but before he can get very far you interrupt.

”Why are you being so dodgy about knowing Stevie?” You ask more firmly, gaining confidence as you realize your positions of interrogation have flipped.

”Why are you always so gooey around me?”

You scoff, “I am not gooey around you-“

James holds up a hand before you can continue your bickering, “Let’s make a deal. You drop the Steve thing, and I won’t comment on your gooey-ness-“

”But I’m not gooey!” You protest, voice strained and cheeks burning.

James puts his hand out for you to shake and raises a brow, “Deal or no deal, goober?”

You can’t help but let out a frustrated puff of air, your lips pouting out as you look up at him, “Fine. But you can’t call me goober ever again, and you have to tell me why Donna called you Bucky.” You grab his hand and wait for a response.

“I’ll tell you if I get to keep calling you goober,” He wagers, a sly grin spreading across his lips.

”You get a limit of once a day,” You deadpan.

“Make it five,” His grin grows wider and his grip on your hand firmer.

”Three,” You grumble, your pouted lips turning downward into a small frown.

”You got yourself a deal, goob,” James shakes your hand with finality and finally leans back to give you an appropriate amount of space.

You roll your eyes and snatch your hand back from his, “Pay up, you freak,” you grumble half heartedly.

James barks out a laugh at the lame insult, taken a little off guard by your sudden snappiness, “It’s nothing crazy, just a childhood nickname that followed me into adulthood. My middle name is Buchanan, so it’s just a shortened version,” He explains a bit bashfully, his eyes failing to keep contact with yours, “Most people call me Bucky unless it’s a professional thing or whatever,”

You try not to feel the disappointment of being categorized as ‘a professional thing or whatever’.

You nod your head in faux nonchalance, “That’s cool,”

James snorts at your lackluster reaction, “If you want, you can call me Bucky.”

You glance up at Bucky and back down to the table, biting down on your lip to hold back you smile, “O-okay,”

Bucky grins and lets out a quiet chuckle before turning to greet Donna as she cheerily arrives with your meals, pretending like she doesn’t notice that Bucky has switched to your side of the booth. She quickly restates each order and asks if anything else is needed, James confirms that everything looks fantastic and you both thank her before she walks away. You begin to dig into your plate, humming quietly at the flavorful scramble that melts in your mouth as you realize how truly hungry you are. Arithmetic and bickering with a handsome classmate really works up an appetite apparently. James begins to dig in to his as well, gracelessly shoving large bites of pancakes into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in years. You silently roll your eyes and continue on with your meal as you both enjoy your meals.

It’s only after a few minutes of wordless eating that Bucky speaks, “Y’know I like when you get feisty with me. Makes me get all hot n’ bothered,” He states simply, taking a break from stuffing his face to smirk down at you.

You shrink into yourself at his comment, the heat in your neck and face coming back like a tsunami. Your eyes stay fixed on your plate as you stiffly stab your fork into the pile of hash browns in the corner. You grumble out your response and pretend like you aren’t burning up from embarrassment.

“Shut up n’ eat your pancakes you freak,”

~~~~

taglist: @iyskgd

^let me know if you’d like to be added! :)

[myuni-moon]

SAGAU: Reboot (part 2)

cw: violence

You’re not exactly sure where you went wrong, but you find yourself detained in the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. Perhaps it was the fact that you had no self-identification to show the guards that stopped you on your way in, or maybe it was your suspicious-looking behavior as you blurted out you had memory loss and stumbled into Mondstadt– which is not entirely untrue. Either way, the ending is getting chained to a chair in a dimly lit office with no way of explaining or protecting yourself.

You sigh, leaning back into your chair. The manacle around your wrist rubs against your skin, its chains clanging with your movement. Your current location is devoid of any windows, and you wouldn’t be able to tell if you were above or underground. The door is most definitely locked because you’d heard it click after you were left here. Furniture is also sparse; other than the one you’re currently occupying, only a metal table and another chair sit in front of you.

A candle is perched on the surface, illuminating your space enough for you to get the general idea that you are most probably in some kind of interrogation room. If you were to look under the table you are tied to, you’re sure you would see its legs bolted or nailed into the ground. Very characteristic of the cop movie you once stayed up to watch a few months back. Now that you think about it, you never really got to finish it. You passed out halfway in.

Just before the existential crisis of being locked up in the dark permeates your system, the door creaks open. The sound reminds you of the front door of your grandparents’ house– rickety yet unnerving. Your head snaps up in response. The silhouette of a man enters, and you silence a gasp threatening to escape your parted mouth.

The voice that accompanies it is mellow, deep and harmonic despite the annoyance in tone. “Look, it’s too early in the day for this. So do me a favor and just cooperate.”

Blue hair. Eyepatch. Pupils in the shape of a four-pointed star. Fluffy scarf.

You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry because Kaeya Alberich is standing in front of you with a scowl and irritation apparent in his voice. On one hand, this could very well be your salvation if you played your cards right. On another, Kaeya may just be one of the many characters you wish to never be with in this circumstance.

He doesn’t even bother to look at you, gaze scanning through a folder poised in his grasp. Kaeya just sits across from you in the once vacant seat, and you feel queasiness dance in your stomach.

“I am the Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius. You are currently detained for suspicious behavior, according to reports.”

He sounds so monotone– uninterested and exasperated. It’s not at all like the Kaeya you’re used to seeing. Typically, he’s playful and sly which leans into the trickster role most players know him for. Just like everything you’ve experienced thus far, you’re stuck in a state of liminality. You’re teetering between the recognizable and the unknown.

It fills you with dread because you’re acutely aware that you have no understanding of the Kaeya before you.

“It says you entered Mondstadt this morning. When questioned for identification, you were unable to procure any documentation.” He raises a brow pointedly. “You claimed you had memory loss and came to the city for answers after seeing it from the forest you woke up in the northeast of the city– which would be the Whispering Woods. Is that all?”

You nervously blink, “Uh, yes?”

He throws the folder haphazardly onto the table. His actions are very unlike him. This Kaeya doesn’t seem to hide behind any carefree or cunning façade. He’s supposed to be somewhat refined, not at all openly aggressive. You expect him to play you like a fiddle, manipulate you into giving him the answers he wants behind coy smiles and faked enthusiasm. But he isn’t, and it’s making your skin crawl.

“I’m surprised they even put you up for interrogation,” he scoffs, “if it were me, you would’ve been killed on the spot.”

You freeze. “Excuse me?”

This is definitely not Kaeya. You tell yourself he mustn’t be. If he were, he wouldn’t actually hurt someone so suddenly. He didn’t even attack the traveler the first time they appeared, so why would he kill you out of the blue?

He clicks his tongue. “Don’t play dumb.”

Except you aren’t. You’re busy trying to reason out Kaeya’s shift in behavior.

He’s not supposed to be hostile– to a powerless civilian, at least. You have no way of protecting yourself, and you don’t have a vision or weapon. You pose no major threat, given you were easily detained; you don’t possess any valuable information that he could want either.

His earlier statement seemed personal, however. If it were up to him, you would’ve already been dead. He hasn’t done anything yet because something is stopping him, and he’s pissed about it.

You take a deep breath and decide to weigh your options. Your first option is to tell the entire truth about your understanding of the world you’ve found yourself in, and you’re not so sure what benefits that could give you. What you do know is that he could possibly take it as an excuse and send you to a worse fate than being sent to a video game.

The second option is, well, to play dumb. Answer all his questions while concealing the fact that you’re not from Teyvat. Truthful but not completely honest. Honestly, it’s your best bet. It’s the only choice you have that has an opportunity for a brighter outcome. You bite your lip, carefully picking the words about to come out of your mouth.

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You meet his sharp gaze, and a fury burns behind his pupil. It takes a lot in you not to quiver when the chair from under him squeaks against the floor as he abruptly stands. Kaeya’s strides are slow, his heels clicking against the stone floor. He rounds the corner over to you; your heart drums with his every step.

When you look up at him, you find the devil standing in front of you. The space between you two is only an arm’s length. A bitter laugh escapes his lips. “Who do you think you’re kidding, huh?

“First, the traveler disappears without a trace. No one can contact them, not even that damn dragon.” What? “Then you show up within our walls, wearing their face. You have to know what you’re doing. Just what are you pests planning?” Whose face is he talking about? What does he mean by “pests?”

A burning pain spreads across your scalp, causing you to cry out. His hand has come to pull at your hair, forcing your head into an uncomfortable bend. Fear twists its way to your neck in the form of Kaeya’s palm pressing against your throat. Just a little more pressure and he could restrict your airflow completely.

“I don’t care if you’re involved with them or mocking us, I don’t think you’re leaving this room alive.”

[writing-cins]

Unspoken Feelings

Pairings: Alastor x gn reader Warnings/Tags: gn!reader, tension, lots of tension, unspoken feelings, hurt but also comfort?, Alastor is bad at feelings, inner conflict, suppressed feelings, does the ending count as (light) angst?, bittersweet ending, I'm bad at tagging Summary: Loving you is hard, but being with you is harder. And being with Alastor is dangerous. Wordcount: 1.9k A/N: This one is very short compared to my other fics but full of (heartbreaking) tension. *****

{Masterlist}

You sat at the grand piano in the dimly lit lounge of the hotel. Your fingers glided gracefully across the keys, seamlessly transitioning between the notes with a captivating elegance. With closed eyes you surrendered to the enchanting melody, completely entranced by its spell. Your soft voice sang along, a subtle sound that harmonized with heartbreaking lyrics of the ballad that had such a special place in your heart, reminding you of bittersweet moments and cherished dreams.

   Alastor sat not far from you in an armchair with a glass of whiskey in his hand. His crimson eyes remained fixed on you, captivated by your fervent performance that fully caught his attention. Though he heard you play before he had never witnessed such a fiery passion put into the music that came from your fingers. Your singing voice was enchanting, echoed from the high ceiling like a siren’s song casting a spell on every person who could hear you. It was as though you were revealing a concealed message and opening your heart to whatever you had in mind.

   He closed his eyes while he let himself get bewitched by your spell, fully succumbing to your beautiful performance. Were you even aware that he was watching you? Listened to you singing and playing like a muse? He didn’t know it but also he didn’t care as long as you kept playing and filled the hole in his heart with the sound of your song, as a clenching feeling tugged on his stomach, clouded by a pang of longing. He knew exactly what he felt right now. How he felt about you, but expressing those emotions was a different story. He wasn’t good at feelings, let alone at admitting them. It was hard to even admit them to himself, just to begin with. He found himself caught up in denial for far too long and had blamed it on his mind playing tricks on him – he even preferred to diagnose himself as mentally ill than to just accept the fact that he had grown fond of you. Way too fond.

   That he started longing for you.

   Loving you.

   Love.

   He let out a dismissive laugh that was far too quiet for you to hear over the sound of the piano.

   Love was a feeling he had never felt before. At least not in this way. He had loved his mother unconditionally. She had been the closest and dearest person to him that ever existed in his whole lifetime. And there were other people who were close to him and who he cared about a lot. But nothing like this could be compared to what he felt in your presence. What feelings you evoked deep inside of him as he looked you in the eyes, felt your lingering gaze on him, listened to you talk and laugh with all your heart. The way his thoughts about you occupied his every breath and kept him awake at night because otherwise if he closed his eyes all he could see was your beautiful face haunting his mind like a tormenting ghost. Oh sweet hells, he even dreamed about you. Was this really the love people were so obsessed with and that was considered the most beautiful thing in the world? There was no way he could comprehend this; no matter how hard he tried. You possessed his every thought and made him question his sanity. It was an uncomfortable feeling that tugged on him, almost completely tore him apart. He hated it. But yet he didn’t want to miss it.

   He opened his eyes again, watching your graceful silhouette moving in front of the grand piano and couldn’t help but smile contendly, his eyes glowing with sparks of joy. Though no matter how many feelings of happiness tingled in his guts, he felt heartbroken at the same time. Your relationship has always been complicated. You danced around each other, both too far to take the leap. There was so much on you that Alastor admired. Your view on life and your admiration for the smaller things. The way you animatedly gestured around while you told him something and how your eyes sparkled with anticipation whenever you were about to do the things you adored the most. He admired your creativity and your talent, the passion you put into your music when you played one of your instruments and used your powerful voice to sing along. The way you danced with him as if you were a graceful swan. He also admired your strength and independence, your self-confidence, your stubbornness, your abnormal sense of humor and psychotic tendencies that always reminded him of the fact that you were in hell for a reason. He admired the way you weren’t afraid to show off your insanity, even implemented some of your sickest fantasies on hell’s worst spawns. He admired you.

   Alastor took a sip of his whiskey. His thoughts made him sound like a fool – an immature and cheesy teenager – whenever he tried to unravel the clot that every oh so normal person considered love.

   By now he was aware that he himself had become a victim of this cruel but also beautiful torture. But no matter how confident he was of his actions his own demons held him back to fully commit to you and the feelings he harbored in his chest, carefully tucked away in a heart shaped box. He was everything but a saint. He’d never be enough for you because he knew that he would never change. All he could give you was sorrow and pain and if there was one thing he didn’t want you to bear, it was you suffering from his incapabilities of being the lover you deserved.

   The song came to an end and that was when Alastor noticed that he had swallowed his whole drink within the shortest amount of time. Not good, as he already felt the effects of the alcohol starting to cloud his senses.

   Through the corner of his eye he saw you move and when he turned his face towards you, you caught him by surprise as he met your gaze. Time stood still for a short moment, his heart pounded in his chest as he returned your startled gaze. You obviously hadn’t been aware of his presence until now.

   Alastors smile widened in amusement at your dumbfounded expression but he didn’t laugh. Instead, his voice was calm and smooth as he said, “That was quite the performance, my dear.”

   You forced yourself to smile, trying hard to hide your embarrassment in front of him – unsuccessfully. What a cute sight, Alastor thought but shook off the thought as soon as it entered his mind.

   “Thank you, Alastor,” you responded to him, your voice much more confident than your startled body language expressed. A wave of reassurance overcame you and you calmed down, recovering from the surprise of your unexpected listener. “It’s always nice to have a captive audience. Even though I would’ve preferred to be aware of it,” you then added with a soft voice, a genuine smile forming on your lips.

   Alastor chuckled softly. “Well, consider me captivated, indeed.”

   The room became silent for a moment as you and Alastor exchanged glances, the air heavy with unspoken words. There was a moment of silent understanding between you, a shared acknowledgement of the unspoken feelings that lingered beneath the surface. Alastor knew he had to say something, to break the tension between you, but the words caught in his throat, unable to be spoken out loud. It was one of those moments when he should have risen from his seat and approached you, embracing your delicate presence and pulling you in a tender kiss. It was what he had dreamed about for weeks, one of those perfect moments that needed no words but mere actions to confess your feelings for each other. There was no doubt that you felt the same for him. Alastor knew that you returned his feelings (at least in some similar way). You had to. Otherwise you would have acted differently in his presence, less nervous, less attentive in his personal needs, less affectionate. You would’ve maintained less eye contact with him, not lingering your gaze longer on him than necessary and not secretly stealing glances. Yes, he knew about it but not only because he could sense it when he was watched, but also because people had told him. Not only Charlie had tried to confront him about the supposed ‘tension’ between the both of you, but also Angel couldn’t help but joke loudly about it. Alastor was told how much you smiled in his presence, how much more vivid you behaved, those subtle tries of yours to catch his attention without raising suspicion. Well, your attempt to remain inconspicuous seemed to have failed – at least in the eyes of the other residents. If no one had told Alastor about it and he wouldn’t have spent time actively paying attention to your changes in behavior around him, he would have never noticed. Never guessed it. You were truly bad at concealing your feelings. Did you even try?

   Normally Alastor would’ve laughed at this thought. But in this moment there was nothing to laugh about as the tension between you burned with a subtle passion, drawing the both of you to each other in an unspoken longing.

   You loved him at least as much as he loved you.

   You wanted him at least as much as he wanted you.

   And you needed him at least as much as he needed you.

   At least that’s what Rosie had told him when he had spent a whole afternoon conversing with her about that peculiar demoness that made him feel things he never thought possible. But yet, Alastor remained in his armchair, returning your loving expression with unveiled eyes. His breath was heavy and his heart pounded in his chest like a drum on a battlefield.

   Oh, how much he wanted to touch you.

   To get close to you.

   To hug you.

   To kiss you.

   To make him his. For the rest of eternity.

   But he knew his inner demons would show you no mercy. That he would just hurt you to a point of no return. And that was something he was determined not to allow under any circumstances. Something he would never forgive himself for. And he would hurt you. He knew that.

   Alastor felt a lump building in his throat and held his breath as it was too painful to continue breathing with that pressure clenching his chest. 

   The both of you stood there for a moment longer, staring at each other but remained in your unmoved state, silently confessing to each other without a spoken word.

   Without making a sound Alastor stood up, his hand wrapped tightly around his empty whiskey glass, knuckles whitening under the pressure. He offered you a small, toothless smile before turning around to leave. His heart was heavy from unspoken desires and the pain of his decision tore his heart into shreds as he left you alone. The door swung close behind him and Alastor couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss wash over him. He knew that loving you was hard. And being without you was even harder.

   Cruel.

   But it was for the best.

   He could never love you the way he wanted to – the way you deserved it. And if protecting you meant tearing himself apart in the most gruesome ways, so it should be.

*****

[yourbloodysunrise]

Heyo I hope you're having a good day or night, I saw your writing and I thought that it's really good! You're an amazing writer!

So I was gonna ask if you could make a Ninjago OS (you can make it into hcs if it's too much) of Cole with a really good cook and baker boyfriend reader but who never really shows it or say it.

Like his cooking and baking can put Gordon Ramsay to shame but he lives off instant noodle and pre-made meals because he's too lazy, and because he barely cooks nobody knows that he's good at it.

I imagine a scenario where Cole is really tired after training or a mission, so reader tells him 'Dw abt it bbg I'll cook today' then proceeds to cook the best meal to be, and when asked about it he just shrugs and say 'Dunno'.

So yeah a very fluffy crack scenario kinda thing, our boy deserves it lmao.

🌤️ — aw, thank you for your good words :з

🌤️ — I thought that this scenario is a good plot for oneshot, but I didn't like the way I wrote it, so I had to do it hcs. anyway, enjoy!

°.✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩.°

❝ All you need for happiness - is a good dinner after a hard day. ❞

— FANDOM: LEGO NINJAGO.

— PAIRING: COLE BROOKSTONE x OC!GOOD COOK MALE READER.

— ROMANTIC.

— HCS.

— TW: BAD ENGLISH, BAD GRAMMAR, OOC, READER'S GENDER PLAY NO PART, EHH I THINK I COULD DO BETTER.

°.✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩.°

☆ ┈ Let's be honest, Cole LOVES food.

☆ ┈ Give him some, and his day will immediately get better.

☆ ┈ If this food is from you..He is doubly happy. And if you're a good cook? It seems that he has never loved anyone as much as he loves you.

☆ ┈ Since you're usually too lazy to cook, Cole does it, and his cooking is, frankly, terrible.

☆ ┈ Like, when you try it, it feels like he added everything that was in the fridge, and so many seasonings that don't harmonize with each other make your tongue curdle.

☆ ┈ However, you will never tell him about it, because you know that he will be upset lol.

☆ ┈ It's not surprising if you're constantly eating convenience foods and fast food, which Cole doesn't even know about your culinary skills.

You hear the door of your apartment swing open and close with a loud bang, while the floorboards creak under the feet of the one who entered.

Cole stumbles into your room, sighing heavily, and without any words just falls on the bed, burying his face in the sheets. You chuckle as you watch him.

Yeah, you're cooking today.

Cole hasn't even managed to tell you anything since he arrived. All he does is lie on the bed, undressing at a snail's pace, and lie down again.

He lifts his body off the bed only when you call him to the kitchen to eat.

His feet drag on the parquet floor as he enters the kitchen, rubbing his eyes from constant fatigue. He sits down at the table with quiet murmurs of thanks before starting to eat.

☆ ┈ OH, OH, WOW.

☆ ┈ As soon as the food gets into his mouth, he doesn't believe it's really real at first, and just freezes for a second.

☆ ┈ In a couple of seconds, Cole will have his face buried in the plate and will munch on its contents as if he has been starving for a week, not worrying about the fact that the fat from the oil gets on his face and he is damn loud.

☆ ┈ Well..He liked it.

☆ ┈ Cole will literally pile on you with questions about why you hid from him the fact that your cooking is wonderful, to which you just shrug your shoulders like "should I have?"

☆ ┈ Now he will constantly pester you with requests to cook something. Please?? No, really, please, he doesn't remember the last time he had such a delicious meal.

☆ ┈ If you do agree to cook for him again, he will stand behind you, constantly hugging you, possibly interfering with his work, but he doesn't really care.

☆ ┈ He may try to shower you with kisses while you cook, it's ticklish.

☆ ┈ Cole loves you, but he loves your cooking even more.

..:*･ﾟ☆.｡.:*･ﾟﾞ｡.:*･ﾟ☆.｡.:*･ﾟ🌤

🌤️ — yo. hope you like it, have a good day ☆

[cricketnationrise]

I love when you do these ficlet fests!!! 😍

May I please request 10:46 in the Brownstone kitchen, ACD pov (and Angel Baby by Troye Sivan for vibes, but only if you wanna)

Can't wait to read what you come up with and see what everyone else asked for :)))

!!!! oh boy here we go, another ficlet fest begins!

fun facts: i've never listened to troye sivan on purpose before this prompt 😅🤣 i took some vague inspo from the lyrics and let the spirit move me or whatever. thanks for your prompt and i hope you like your ficlet! :) 💜🦗

see how to get your own ficlet here

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

10:46pm, brownstone kitchen

“What’s all this then?”

Alex almost misses Henry’s softly amused question over the music and the whirring of the mixer. “H!” he says, looking over at the kitchen doorway with a bright smile. “Welcome home, baby.”

“Thanks, love.”

Henry sheds his cardigan and dumps his armful of shelter stuff on the corner of the island and then drifts close enough to kiss Alex hello. Henry tries to keep it quick, but Alex pulls him back in for a longer kiss. Henry’s been gone all day, Alex’s classes were exhausting, and sue him or whatever, but he’s always happy to see Henry. Alex can’t possibly make do with just a peck. Stars, can’t do it, not today, etc, etc.

Gratifyingly, Henry looks a little dazed when Alex finally releases him and goes back to his dough.

“Mmmm, delightful. What are you making?”

“Sometimes a boy just needs cookies, y’know?”

“If you mean biscuits, then yes,” Henry says, but he’s just arguing for tradition’s sake and is more focused on wrapping himself around Alex, tucking his chin over Alex’s shoulder. Alex settles himself to take his boyfriend’s weight and revels in the warmth and closeness as the dough continues to come together in the bowl.

“Glad you’re home, finally.”

“Me too,” Henry mumbles. “I love all the kids, of course, but today was a mite exhausting.”

“I’ll bet.” He slows the beater and scrapes down the sides of the bowl. Perfection. “Moving,” he warns before shuffling down the counter to the waiting cookie sheet—Henry clings the whole way. He’s sure they look like a particularly good-looking and sentient hermit crab, not that Alex is complaining.

Alex could live in this moment forever, actually.

The smells of chocolate and cinnamon and vanilla hang in the air, somehow not clashing with Henry’s inexplicable linen and fresh grass scent coming from behind him. He’s got Nora’s nostalgia bitches playlist on—it has everything from stuff his parents had on in the car growing up to songs he hasn’t heard since middle school dances—harmonizing perfectly with Henry’s contented hums against his ear. The view of a neat-ish grid of dough balls slowly filling the baking sheet is satisfying, but the sight of Henry’s arms wrapped firmly around Alex’s waist is a fucking delight. The squishy-ness of the dough against his palms as he rolls them is weirdly soothing, but the feeling of Henry draped across his back like a cape is pulling most of Alex’s focus. The taste of the dough is a guilty pleasure as he finishes filling the cookie sheet, but even the whole cookie he shoves in his mouth can’t compete with the lingering taste of Henry’s lips on his tongue.

It's a perfect moment: like having exactly enough page protectors for his binder, like a curl falling just right over his forehead, like the sunlight reflecting off the lake with nowhere to go. Alex never thought he’d get something like this. He’d secretly hoped for it, but the reality is so much more than he could have ever dreamed up.

“Sorry, baby, gotta let go for a sec.”

“Don’ wanna,” Henry protests into Alex’s neck, making Alex shiver with the sensation.

“I need to put the cookies in the oven, H.”

There’s a pause, then the heaviest, most put-upon sigh in the whole world—even David would be put to shame by Henry’s dramatics—and Henry finally lets his arms drop and takes a step back. Alex slides the tray in and sets a timer.

“Okay, ten minutes until I have to take them out again. Want to get into comfy clothes or anything, sweetheart?”

Henry’s shaking his head before Alex even finishes speaking. “Just want to hold you.”

Alex couldn’t stop the besotted look on his face if he tried; somewhere June is feeling nauseous and doesn’t know why. He leans against the counter and opens his arms.

“I’ll allow it. C’mere.”

Henry doesn’t need telling twice.

[tridentkickflipper123]

Genuine question

If you don't really like/believe the whole (the what??) "soul/mind blinds heart" theory,

what's your interpretation of the "times stabbed through eyes that the sides had condemned" line, if you don't mind asking?

I'm very curious .looks up at you with my big wide eyes

hello hi! no worries, I don't mind at all :} I'll do my best to explain how I see it, though I must say that I'm admittedly not the best at lyrical analysis, so this may or may not make sense - there's honestly a greater chance this doesn't make sense at all, in which case I apologize beforehand if it doesn't (orz)

also this answer got SUPER LONG so I will put the rest of this answer under the cut. congratulations on getting the semi-common semi-rare 'Trident explains something in an unnecessarily long response with an answer that barely makes sense'. and also apologies in advance once again. whoops

so, very clearly that line is referring to the trident, as there isn't really anything else that would be referred to as having tines, that's very much obvious; however, I don't think the rest of the line is referring to Heart, or at the very least, not Heart specifically

and the reason I don't think it is, is because of the context surrounding the line itself – and I don't mean just the lyrics before this line, I mean the accompanying music video:

I think the fact that we're shown both Heart and Mind, side to side, through this line is immensely significant, it makes it clear (to me, at the very least) that Soul isn't just talking about Heart here, he's talking about them both. because, if Soul was just talking about Heart, then wouldn't the focus just be on Heart?

and here's the thing about Light & Night: it's one of the few CCCC MVs that was more or less storyboarded by Chonny prior to/while being made. he mentions this in the Q&A

and honestly, you can very clearly see this with Light & Night, and especially Night. every single scene is very deliberate and has a purpose in conveying a message to the audience. (it's like, actually kind of unreal the amount of little details that are crammed into the music video. little tangent here, but did you know that what looks like an ultrasound scan shows up when Soul sings 'such as I am Mother's only son'? because I did not know until I read a YT comment that pointed it out. Night is probably the MV that I've rewatched the most and I still never noticed that detail up until recently.)

so with that being said, we can come to the conclusion that Mind being present through the tines line is very much intentional – but Mind has never been stated or alluded to be blind, nor was he ever mentioned having anything affecting his sight in any way, so... what's up with that?

with this I'm gonna fast forward to Storm and a Spring, where we find the first* time that a trident is referenced as more of a physical object, rather than something being tridential

*first time by song release date, not album order

here Mind refers to it as both weapon and motive. additionally, throughout the entire album, the trident is largely meant to be a symbol for the three – and not really just Soul.

so with all this, to me, the line means far less 'Soul stabbing out Heart's eyes with an actual trident' and more of:

'Soul, who wants to get Heart and Mind to harmonize again so they can be whole again, tries to show them this truth that they all need to work together, and fails. Heart and Mind can't harmonize because they can't see eye to eye together, and they don't want to become Whole under Soul's terms'

the trident, the very image of the three together, is a motivation and a purpose, that they reject, that they condemn, because they can't agree with the other, and through the music video they try, and it doesn't work. so the stabbing here is not a literal thing, but more-so a harsh truth shown that they can't accept.

and really, that's not just what the tines line means to me, it's also what Night embodies in its entirety, to me; Night is the first attempt at harmony, which ends up failing. Light, in contrast, is the last attempt at harmony, which succeeds.

I'm aware that's probably a far less exciting or thrilling interpretation of the tines line – but in the end it's what makes most sense to me, considering the overarching album themes and the context surrounding Night (the fact that it comes right after Spring and a Storm and right before Ruler of Everything makes me feel NORMAL VERY NORMAL). that being said, I completely understand why people come to the usual conclusion that Heart's blindness was caused by Soul / the trident; it is, after all, the most direct conclusion you can make from it. buuut...

I'm gonna sound like a major hater here. I promise I'm not trying to knock anyone's interpretation here – at the very end of the day CCCC is largely up to interpretation and it's very much meant to be that way. but I just really... really don't think Soul would do all that. I'm sorry to the Soul blinding Heart truthers out there. and I hope you don't mind if I explain why right now on this post (Trident yap session part... TWO!)

here's the thing – Soul is so, sooo very impartial throughout the entirety of the album. whenever he speaks either directly towards them or about them he's always referring to both, never really leaving one or the other out. there's in total two (2!) instances where Soul talks about/towards only one of the two. once in Mucka Blucka, when referring to Heart (in which he and Mind both sing 'and right as he missed' while Heart is singing 'and right as I missed') and once in Night (when Mind sings 'only thought,' and both Soul and Heart respond with 'What do you want?')

which are such minor instances in and of themselves, in both times he's singing along with Heart or Mind to refer to the other, so it's not something that he even does on his own. You could argue that the line 'but mechanical hands decided where the Heart would be,' counts, but he's still referring to both in the same line and under the same context... other than that, there's no other instances where he's referring to only one of them rather than both. (AT LEAST from what I recall, at least. if I'm wrong feel free to correct me)

with all that being said, that's why I just really... really don't get the Soul blinding Heart interpretation, and much less the punishment angle to it. not only is the punishment angle to the blinding kind of wildly ableist on its own (though I'm not really the right person to speak on it – but it feels wrong not to bring up either way). it also just doesn't make sense to me considering Soul's behavior through the rest of the album. he always treats Heart and Mind equally otherwise, whether he's on good or bad terms with them. if Soul blinded Heart (whether as punishment or not), it'd mean he'd have to do the same to Mind as well. which doesn't make much sense, does it?

and I know people commonly interpret the blinding as a response to RoE, but... I feel if it was something that was a result of RoE, it'd be mentioned in Mucka Blucka too, which lines out not only the album's themes but major events like RoE and Apathy as well. so like... waves hands vaguely. eh?

I don't know. once again I'm not trying to knock anybody else's interpretation. I do have issues with the ableism that comes from seeing the blinding as punishment done to Heart and I do think people should be more mindful / considerate of that and give it the nuance required if they're going with that angle at all, but at the end of the day I can't really control people, and the blatant truth is anyone can pretty much just do whatever they want – especially with CCCC interpretations as that's kind of the whole point. I can't really speak much on the matter either as I'm not the right person to do so nor am I going to pretend I'm a saint when it comes to it (it'd be rich of me to act high and mighty on the topic when my art isn't even accessible to visually impaired people in the first place. it's something I've admittedly been neglecting and that I just haven't gotten around to due to lack of time/other reasons, but still, it's not great)

but... yeah. waves hands vaguely. that's my answer. LOL

hopefully this is all at the very least somewhat understandable. my brain died like twice while writing this post so I maaay or may not come back later to edit this post with better wording. I also was going to bring up other stuff that I find interesting regarding Night but those are not really related to the question you asked so I'll leave it out for now. this response is long enough as it is LOL. thank you for asking o7

[windvexer]

Hi chicken, hope you're doing fine!

I wanted to ask about how to include animal spirits (not individual animals, but The Animal) in one's practice. I'm a polytheist and I never interacted with anything other than gods, my understanding/interpretation of spirits is based on the hierarchical roles of the divine, so I'm not very familiar with animism as a paradigm. I know that some say that gods are just spirits with silly hats (love the image lol), but since it's not my theological pov I'm a bit lost.

I've been thinking for years about adding a few Animals to my cultus, but I don't really know how/what to do - I know how to handle gods, but I have no idea how to do the same with idk the Cat Godhead of all the other cat spirits. I never did anything because I don't want to fuck things up, especially because I don't know how spirits react.

(I also need to add that the ones I'm interested in don't live in my area and surroundings and that for religious obligations I can't touch/interact with animal remains.)

I know it's a silly question, but is there something specific that I can do about this?

Thank you in advance if you'll answer, have a nice day!

Hello! Thanks for your patience.

I think you have great insight that the way you work with gods, perhaps within one or more pantheons, is not the same as working with Oversoul spirits, or whatever you want to call them.

I think it's best to regard each Big Animal as being in its own pantheon, if that imagery translates. Each Big Animal may have its own preference for how you interact with it and what kind of relationship you have.

Big Animals are animals, yes, but they are distinct from the spirits of corporeal animals or those beings recently incarnated or 'close to physical.' They are more alike in dignity to gods than animals, in my opinion.

When working with unknowns, I focus on employing my best rules of courtesy and respect. That way if I piss someone off I can say, "I'm sorry, I did that as a sign of respect, I didn't realize it was rude. Now I've learned." Otherwise I think I might be stuck saying, "well, I don't know what I was thinking," and we can all see that's a much worse excuse. So don't feel a need to cleave yourself from your knowledge of how to work with Gods. Many of those same aspects may be relevant here.

I generally find that when working with Big Animals, you can't necessarily assume what role it will play in your life. For someone, Big Grizzly Bear might become a guardian and display virtues of fierce protection and territorial violence. For someone else, Big Grizzly might appear as a nurturing caretaker who teaches about the joys of feasting on tasty salmon and watching sunsets over beautiful vistas.

What this means for you as a practitioner is that I believe it benefits you to keep a very open mind about what's going to happen, and not try to shoehorn the Big Animal into any specific role, especially not if your expectations are based around Animal Speak or other somesuch "animal correspondence" list.

As such, I recommend being wary of an approach where you meet an Animal just to see what you get, and then take that as some kind of divine soul-lesson about yourself. It's not their prerogative to peer into your depths and present themselves in such a way that harmonizes with your ideal growth.

Instead, it's probably wise to ask yourself exactly what you want from your relationship with that Animal, then explain to that Animal what your goals are and ask if/how that can happen.

To reach out to a Big Animal is trivial, about the same as reaching out to a God. In fact IMO you're probably better served not using animal remains to do so - animal remains are very strong links to a discrete individual animal, and it can be easy to accidentally call forth the ghost of Mittens instead of connecting to Oversoul God-Cat.

Just as you might build one for a God, try building the Big Animal a shrine filled with icons of its living children (or if you like, it's manifested fractal form as it intrudes into physicality), decorated with things from its natural biomes, and!:

Especially include a recreation den, nest, or sheltered resting-space for the animal. It's alright to include traditional man-made substitutes (wooden bird house), as long as those substitutes are made for the comfort and shelter of animals.

(If you're trying to call a predator, an icon or two of its preferred prey may be a tempting lure to get its attention!)

If a shrine isn't possible, try condensing these things into a container like a box or bag; this is functionally a container spell talisman.

Include also some witchcraft: write up a ruleset for this shrine or talisman that clarify you are trying to reach that being you identify as being Cat-Godhead, Animal Oversoul, Top of the Hierarchy. Explicitly state you are not trying to reach out to ghosts or individual spirits. (*You may wish to include a caveat that these 'smaller' spirits may arrive as emissaries or intermediary spirits on behalf of the Big one).

Then, performing whatever ritual of consecration you prefer, consecrate and the shrine or talisman and invite the Animal to dwell there. Here are general tips for this kind of thing:

The road between you and the spirit may be tenuous at first and require many repeated attempts to solidify. Multiple rituals of invitation, perhaps undertaken once weekly or every full moon (etc) may be necessary to establish a solid connection.

All offerings are ideally aligned to that animal's diet, but other offerings (incense, candles, energy, etc) will also be fine. It's ideal to provide an offering each time you call forth the spirit, both to facilitate its presence, but also to tempt it along :)

Animals may begin appearing to you in dreams or in random encounters. I don't mean necessarily seeing a living member of the species, but that coincidental and serendipitous things may begin happening. Pay attention if unusual things happen which seem to be a test of your character, or if you keep having new and repeated dreams. These sorts of things may happen when reaching out to any spirit - they have a way of pressing into our lives.

You are best served to immediately begin treating that animal species with the utmost respect in daily life, no matter what. E.g., you want to know Deer and a friend makes a silly comment about how deer are dumb idiot babies. You should not agree with them. You should say you find Deer to be beautiful and wise in their own ways.

(I hope I've covered all your questions - sorry again for the delayed reply)

[mai-komagata]

Morgoth hates Arda

But the Ainur are not Arda.

Melkor hated Arda and wanted to destroy it. He hated that nothing he created would be his in Arda, everything he created would belong to Eru Iluvatar. His lack of creative power, the fact that there were intelligences in Arda, that they could reproduce and he could not, that is what he hated and wanted to destroy. He hates even his own creations in Arda. He seeks to become more and more a part of the created world, to suffuse every aspect of it with him in his quest to create, but he cannot.

Like Morgoth definitionally cannot do that. He is both always and forever part of Arda and also father of none of it. He can master, he can destroy, he can mar, but it won't be his.

But critically, none of the other Valar or Maiar are part of Arda. They are not part of the material world. They take forms in the material world but they aren't a part of it.

The Balrogs, some of the other Umaiar, and Sauron are not part of Arda he wants to destroy. They are his friends and collaborators. Those Ainur loyal to him joined him from the creation of Arda. There were others that were coerced, but not them. The Ainulindale talks about Ainur who wished to harmonize their song to his when they heard it, and the Valaquenta talks about how they admired his greatness and splendor, but remained loyal despite of his fall.

They were all waiting for him while he was imprisoned, they didn't rebel against him during the ages he was gone or take possession of his realms. As soon as they heard his cry for help they went to aid him. They ceded control back to him as soon as he came back.

They don't hate him and he doesn't hate them. Does he love him?

That, I think, is an unknowable question. While I'm writing a companion piece on Sauron (who I think it is undeniable in the text that he loves him and is bereft without him, falling into complete evil), the issue for Morgoth I think is that he might be ontologically unable to love as Tolkien defines it -- he isn't capable of humility and self-sacrifice, the way the Umaiar are able to love him by following him, he doesn't love them in that manner. But I don't think he resents them like he resents Arda, for they are in the same boat as he is, and I personally think he values them and has affection for their loyalty -- he also doesn't betray them, or treat them as disposable.

(ungoliant is a whole story here but tl:dr; she was not melkor's servant at the time -- but it gives us an illustration of how Melkor is with those he doesn't value -- he lies to them and breaks his promises). Eru says all created things are according to his plan, and Melkor is an emanation of his being. Is Melkor's sole Good to Eru the effects of his actions? That by his discord he allowed Eru to create what he wanted to create all along? He is the negative spaces and voids in the perfect drawing of creating?

Or is there other goodness in him? (which, since it is not directed towards Arda, would be directed towards the Ainur?)

[siren-sashimi]

Dating the Uchiha boys - the down sides Headcanon list [Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Obito, Uchiha Shisui x gn! reader]

Contents and warnings: quarrels in a relationship, egotistical behavior, toxic masculinity, emotional repression, arguments

Sasuke Uchiha Oh boy, where do I even begin?

A lot of his issues - most of them begin with him having a little brother inferiority complex.

He is a master through effort. While Sasuke can be and is rightfully proud if his achievements, his pride can easily fall apart when he doesn't receive recognition from his family.

Since he's so fixated on his family's approval, he tends to blend out any other significant relationship while working towards his goal.

In short: Proud but fragile ego. 

While he would never hurt you physically or aiming at hurt you emotionally or psychologically, when Sasuke is in a reckless mood or angry he lash out such harsh feelings on you by being abrasive, grumpy, or saying that your help is useless.

Sasuke has a hard time processing feelings, mostly he processes them via anger.

Sometimes looks for fights/arguments when he's in a foul mood. Another person making a joke on Sasuke's expenses. Expect that you need to drag Sasuke out of the room before things go out of hand.

Positive note: He is capable of arguing with you. Or let's say: Your argument can end in aggressive shouting matches where he can be an insensitive ass. Afterwards he will stew in his anger and a bit of selfrighteousness before he slowly considers that there might be truth to what you said...

Here's the issue: Sasuke does deeply care for you. He doesn't actually date you as much as he fell in love with you and got over himself to ask you to stay by his side. His kind of love is quiet, more expressed in action, due to the fact that he isn't good at expressing himself with words. So he does seem withdrawn, or it doesn't seem comprehensible why he keeps you around four outsiders. (Even for you by times.)

Homeboy can change and get better but the process demands time, clear boundaries, and patience...

Once figured out that he's really good at sex and for a while tries to use to distract you from arguments.

You have to be the mature one in this relationship.

Generally, it would be better if you had an established friendship where most qualms between the two of you are settled before you feel ready to take on all the complication with romantic problems...

Itachi Uchiha

Constantly under pressure from family as oldest son. By times the family and social expectations will interfere with your private life planning.

Itachi has a hard time fighting back, by times he doesn't even know that he should. Sometimes all the demands loaded on him take up too much of his energy and health to have the energy to fight back. Other times some things are too ingrained in him by his upbringing too properly reflect on how adequate they actually are...

When you try to explain to him that he should not take up everything or say no, he needs a long time realizing that this isn't a(nother) request for your happiness but that you see unhealthy patterns, dynamics, and demands put on him. He's barely used to people being concerned for him for his own sake.

Is unconscious of him guarding himself from his lover. He will act as everything was fine without opening up about things that worry him. It takes a long time to slowly remove the bricks from his walls.

Another family issue is his relationship with his younger brother: Sasuke is one of Itachi's top priorities, even when Sasuke messes up. Their dynamic is not always harmonic either because Sasuke feels so often inadequate, if not jealous when compared to his brother.

It's quiet asymetrical how much work you've to put into Itachi standing up for himself (and your relationship) against his family but he will immediately do a 180 flip for his little brother, no questions asked.

Can't take breaks. Tries not to let his composed façade crack, so even if he knows if he's overworked, struggles with health, he's too stressed out by all the things he wants to get done to stop for his own sake.

At risk to implode from external pressure. 

What the two of you need is private space where time belongs to you and into which his family can't just barge in as they please. 

It's disheartening how little he would actually open up to you, be vulnerable. It's about him feeling safe around you to be himself. Give him time don't push him but set boundaries how much you can bear to see him struggling with the weight on his shoulder.

Obito Uchiha

a lot of problems begin and end with Obito's deeply seated insecurity. Things like his work or making his idealized visions give a strong sense of control and mastering the situation so they became his compensatory tactics. Not that he can't learn and rethink small things but he can be so stubborn, some criticism may reach far deeper into is self-confidence than you or even he actually expected.

Since his childhood he spend so much time in isolation, he can also be emotionally immature and trying to fill the void from all the things he has been deprived of.

Emotionally immature when it comes to romance. In the beginning of your relationship his state of mind is basically the one of a hormonal teenager.

Being with someone in a romantic way fulfils multiple needs for Obito: Being finally shown affection he's so starved for, well um... "physical yearning", finally a stable constant in his life.

May not seem like it but only functions at work because there hardships of life can be solved with a clear goal. Tendencies to be a workaholic to bury emotions he doesn't know how to handle.

In the beginning you're basically an idol  for his emotional salvation. You having diverging expectations, or don't need or want all cliché romantic gestures but Obito being himself is something he needs to learn.

Needs basic sex ed. He knows a lot from having read Icha Icha during down time but oh boy. Some moments when you first had sex were baffling if not hilarious with some ideas Obito had.

So headstrong. When he's convinced of what he does is correct counterarguments are either ignored or escalate into heated fights. Takes counterarguments 

But also actually very insecure. Obito is so insecure about conflict, too self conscious of his looks, of past mistake that he tries to overcompensate with any other quality, only to then implode that he's not enough in any way.

Obito needs to learn that differing opinions don't mean immediate break up or the end of the world. You'll love him through the thick and the thin. 

He will need to learn that pushing you away because of self loathing is what causes the rift, not what he hates himself about him.

Shisui Uchiha Most stable of all of them.

but like all of them his family, more accurately their expectations for other family members, are a source of omnipresent pressure.

Since he's not part of the main family expectations are not as high but he too has to act the proper part.

Tries to keep you away from family affairs to the extent of him wanting to do with them as little as possible. 

Itachi's fine, Sasuke's around too but these two are the exception. Even they won't talk about family matters though.

So there's always a part of his life you feel excluded from, the part Shisui only shares with Itachi.

Easy going in relationships but kinda tends to overlook underlying problems. To Shisui being with you is a refuge from family drama where he's the happiest, and well... compared to what the Uchihas can be up to any problem can be minor.

But Shisui is understanding though. If you clearly speak your mind how you're unhappy with the way certain things are, he might be able to get around to better things.

But you also need to be an active part in your time together. Whereas Shisui's cousins have very personal flaws, Shisui himself is a very reasonable person. You can grow together.

A bit secretive. Nothing major that would burden your relationship still you wish he'd be able to talk about uncomfortable things a bit more...

Don't swallow up frustration but look out for the right time to confront Shisui with things that bother you. If he feels stressed with work and family matters he can get quiet aggressive in tone.

[mywitchyblog]

I need help

I am in a very difficult financial situation and i need around 200 bucks to solve the situation due to the fact that the bank blocked my card and i cannot buy basic necessities to be able to go to school and buy transportation.

As such i made this 50% Sale because yes i am desperate and i need help hence the sale here are the new updated prices.

I’m currently in a difficult financial situation and need around 200 bucks to resolve it. My bank has blocked my card, and I cannot buy basic necessities like food or transportation to school. Because of this, I’m offering a 50% SALE on my tarot readings.

Here are the updated prices:

The Shifter's Compass: This 5-card spread offers insight and support on your reality-shifting journey. 8 bucks

The Crossroads Compass: This 4-card spread connects with your spirit team (higher self, spirit guides, deities, etc.) and provides guidance on which reality to prioritize for shifting. It’s perfect when you’re unsure where to shift. 5 bucks

The Shifter's Mirror: This 6-card spread helps you explore and understand the self you become in your Desired Reality (DR). Dive deeper into your DR identity. 9 bucks

The Reality Bridge: This 5-card spread helps harmonize your Current Reality (CR) and Desired Reality (DR), strengthening the connection between the two. 8 bucks

The Path to Shifting: This 7-card spread is for those preparing to shift, offering detailed guidance on the steps and stages of the shifting process. 10 bucks

The Shifter's Sanctuary: This 4-card spread helps create or identify safe spaces within your DR, ensuring comfort and security during your shifting experience. 5 bucks

The Shifter's Map: This 8-card spread is for advanced shifters navigating multiple realities or exploring the multiverse. 13 bucks

Custom Tarot Reading: If none of the spreads listed fit your needs, I can provide a custom reading tailored to your specific questions. The price is 2 bucks per card (e.g., 3 cards = 6 bucks, 8 cards = 16 bucks, etc.).

Rules and Conditions for Readings:

Provide Context: Please share the context behind your request. Why are you seeking this reading? Tell me about your shifting journey and any relevant details you can think of. The more information you provide, the more accurate your reading will be, as it helps me connect with you on a deeper level.

Spread the Word: If you’re satisfied with your reading, I kindly ask that you reblog or share this post along with a review. Your support in spreading the word is greatly appreciated!

How to Book a Reading:

Visit my Ko-Fi Page: Head over to my Ko-Fi page to make a donation corresponding to the reading you want.

Include Details in the Donation: In the description of your donation, please include the name of the spread you’re requesting.

Follow-Up: If you haven’t received your reading within a reasonable timeframe, (48 hours) don’t hesitate to send me a message with proof of your donation. I’ll make sure to get back to you as quickly as possible.

Please note that failing to follow these guidelines may result in an inaccurate reading or delays in service.

[coriihanniee]

𝗗𝗢𝗨𝗕𝗟𝗘 𝗧𝗔𝗞𝗘 - 𝘫𝘰𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘶

: ̗̀➛ SYNOPSIS : You are reluctantly roped to play the guitar for your graduation performance with no prior knowledge. Your brother, Yoon Jeonghan, promises to find you a tutor, only for you to discover that the instructor is none other than your brother’s best friend, Joshua Hong—your secret crush. As lessons unfold, feelings intensify, but you're left wondering if Joshua shares the same sentiment. How will both of you handle the growing tension between teacher and crush?

CHAPTER 20 : strings (un)attached

The store smelled like polished wood and warm nostalgia. Rows of gleaming guitars lined the walls, and the soft hum of a classic rock song played in the background.

Joshua walked ahead, fingers grazing the strings of a display guitar. You tried not to combust, following closely behind.

"Anything in particular you're looking for?" You asked, forcing your voice to stay casual.

Joshua smiled. "Not really. Just wanted to check it out… with you."

Your heart skipped. You pretended not to hear the last part, instead reaching for a guitar with a questionably designed body.

"This is… ugly," you declared.

Joshua laughed. "You have no filter, do you?"

"Not when it comes to crimes against design," You deadpanned.

Joshua picked up a different guitar—a sleek, deep blue one—and handed it to you. "Here, this one suits you."

You blinked. "You’re just saying that."

Joshua tilted his head. "No. I think it’d look good on you."

Before you could respond, Joshua strummed a few chords. His voice, smooth and effortless, harmonized softly with the melody.

You forgot how to breathe.

"Do you sing often?" you managed to ask.

Joshua shrugged. "Only when I feel like it."

"You’re so unfair," You muttered. "Some people get all the talent."

Joshua smirked. "You think I’m talented?"

"I think you know you’re talented," You shot back, trying not to sound flustered.

Joshua just smiled.

As you reached for a set of guitar picks at the counter, Joshua stepped up beside them, setting down a small set of strings. The clerk, an older man with a friendly smile, scanned the items before glancing between the both of you.

"You two play together often?" he asked casually.

Joshua chuckled. "Something like that."

The clerk nodded approvingly. "You make a cute couple."

You choked on air. Joshua's face reddened slightly,but still tried to remain completely unbothered. In fact, he smirked.

"What do you think?" he asked, turning to you. "Do we look like one?"

Your brain short-circuited. "W-WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT?"

The clerk laughed, handing you your bag. "Young love," he mused, before moving on to another customer.

Joshua simply grinned at your obvious panic.

"You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?" You accused.

Joshua shrugged. "Maybe a little."

You muttered something under your breath before hurriedly moving toward the exit. Joshua followed, the warmth of his gaze lingering.

The sun was setting by the time you left the store, the sky painted in soft shades of pink and gold. You walked side by side, Joshua’s hands tucked into his pockets, you clutching the small bag of guitar picks the both of you impulsively bought.

"Did you have fun?" Joshua asked.

You nodded. "Yeah. It was nice."

A sudden gust of wind swept through the street, sending loose strands of your hair flying into your face. You huffed trying to brush it away, but the wind was relentless.

Joshua let out a soft chuckle. "Here, hold still."

Before you could react, Joshua reached out, gently tucking the stray strands behind your ear. His fingers lingered, barely grazing your cheek. Your breath caught as he tilted his head slightly, his gaze locking onto yours.

"Y/N—"

Before he could say more, you suddenly tripped over an uneven part of the sidewalk. With reflexes sharper than you expected, Joshua caught you by the waist, pulling you close before you could fall.

For a moment, everything was still.

Your hands rested lightly against his chest, and your faces were close—too close. The warmth of his breath fanned against your skin, and for a second, you swore he was leaning in.

But just as quickly, Joshua pulled away, steadying you before taking a step back.

"Careful," he murmured, voice quieter this time.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. "Thanks," you mumbled, unable to look at him.

Joshua exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck before falling back into step beside you. You continued walking, the air between the both of you charged with something unspoken.

As you reached your house, you hesitated on the doorstep.

"Thanks for today," you said, voice softer than before. "It was… nice."

Joshua smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. "Yeah. A friendly outing."

You felt your stomach flip at the way he said it. But before you could question it, Joshua gave you a small wave and turned to leave.

You watched him go, heart pounding, knowing full well that whatever this was… it wasn’t just friendly anymore.

When you stepped inside your house, Jeonghan was lounging on the couch, grinning mischievously as he glanced up. "So, how was your little 'date' with Joshua?" he teased.

You froze at the mention of Joshua's name, your heart dropping as the weight of everything you were feeling hit you all at once. Without thinking, you slid down the door, sinking onto the floor in a heap.

Jeonghan's smile faltered when he saw you, and he quickly rushed over, his teasing demeanor replaced by concern. "Hey, what’s wrong?" he asked, crouching beside you.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the overwhelming rush of emotions. "I… I’m so in love with Joshua," you whispered, voice cracking. "And I don’t even know what to do about it." The words felt like a heavy weight in your chest, and yet, saying them didn’t feel like enough. The pain of unspoken feelings, of a love that seemed so out of reach, settled into every part of you.

Jeonghan’s expression softened as he sat down next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You’ll figure it out," he said quietly, his voice a soft comfort. But inside, you knew that the ache in your heart wasn’t something you could simply figure out. Not when it felt like Joshua was slipping further and further out of reach with every passing moment...

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