#like a ye olde monk

[deeisace]

Had a thought made me laugh so hard my stomach hurts

[per1w1nkl3]

actually when you think about it in context is kinda funny that sisko is obsessed with baseball and bashir with early 20th century history its like is someone was obsessed with jousting or like hunting but with a fox and horses and everything. its like if, to unwind, you went to war for the austrian empire or something. and then you hung out with the aristocracy in some guys castle. as if you had a chat with rousseau and had a court jester as your personal therapist

[mr-stottlemonk]

i'm so certain that stottlemeyer DID carry him anyway. he can't resist nor deny monk anything.

[expatesque]

Referring to your recent post, would love to see some of the fun things you’ve bought! You have the best taste 😊

Aw thank you.

So the main categories of things have been home stuff and fashion stuff. I do have a tag (of course) but haven't posted everything so to summarize...

Home stuff

Living room: The swan table (an icon, a queen, the inspiration for the room), the insane green velvet chair (we love her, gotta keep it eclectic), snake rug (hiss hiss), a fundamentally impractical sofa (Ikea, concessions had to be made somewhere. I'm going to restuff to make it look more fluffy and expensive). I'm keeping my vintage curio cabinet, 1960's referencing 30's circular bar cart, black arched lamp, and big rubber plant. The inspiration is somewhere between this 1930's Thorne miniature room and hummusbird. I need some paintings, a little table for under the window to display a great vase (got this one in ivory, tbc if it's the right size), and some big new throw pillows (I'm thinking dusky pink). Oh also I'm getting a fish to go in the bookcase (I wanted a white Betta but my dad has said that's a bad idea and suggested a gold fish instead).

Kitchen: An oval marble topped cast iron bistro style table. Keeping my black bistro chairs (2x) and will also use 2 of my armless ghost chairs (like these). Likely to get a small floating island to get a little more counter space. Also bought an insane copper kettle ala my man Rajiv recently.

Main bedroom: I've got a new headboard for my bed (this one), I'm getting rid of the wardrobe in there (using the one in the 2nd bedroom) and will replace it with a vintage dressing table and mirror (I do like this one but would rather not spend that given... everything else) to display my great great grandmother's silver mirror, brush, etc. Need some big Euro shams and perpetually looking for a navy woven blanket that's big enough (I want it like, almost duvet sized).

2nd bedroom: Currently is an office / video game room, turning into a proper 2nd bed. I'll use my meh existing bed, need bedside tables, maybe a new desk chair.

Fashion stuff

It's been a lot of big skirts (my love the Prada one, a really full white canvas-y one, this crazy pink one, a beige cashmere Theory one), a set of heavy ribbed tops with high necks in black and browns (for autumn, this is one of them), a few cropped cardigans (can't find any specific ones that I've bought right now, but short enough to wear with the skirts), a totally sheer cream colored top (that is proving surprisingly versatile already), two cheap Zara wrap vests that I'm waiting to arrive (one in cream and one in black, we'll see the quality when they get here), a Victorian gold charm bracelet (+ a charm of a monkey holding a pearl), a pair of really gorgeous silver and mother pearl earrings from the 50s, some rag and bone soft leather mules, some baby blue Mary Janes, and a set of tiny kitten heels that I really like but am not sure I'm keeping (they're a little narrow but I think I could stretch them). I think there's more but if I think too much about it I'll be stressed (rip my budget). Pro tip: Laura Riley has an incredible fashion newsletter that rounds up what's new and what's on sale -- I've gotten almost everything I've bought on 50%+ off.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere soldier with Stockholm syndrome

Part Two of Yandere Soldier

Yandere Soldier - Stockholm Syndrome

Yandere! Solider who can't get you to talk to him. You'll sit curled in the corner of the bed, resolutely looking anywhere but at him.

Yandere! Soldier who brings you books, flowers, even old picture albums he finds stashed at the bottom of your cupboard. And still nothing but silence.

Yandere! Soldier who's beginning to think nothing will ever break it. That he's stilled that vicious tongue of yours forever. Who hates himself for what he's done, but what choice did he have? Yes, he's taken you from your home and family and all that was familiar. But was an interrogation room really the better option?

Yandere! Soldier who comes home with a nasty cut all across his arm. Some dumb kid got smart and slashed him when his back was turned and now he's forced into recovery leave for a week.

At first, you just watch him struggle to change his bandages. But something about his injury, this reminder of mortality, sticks with you. You pluck the roll of bandages straight out of his hand and wrap his injury for him.

Yandere! Soldier who stays frozen while you work, terrified of frightening you away. Who basks in the intimacy of it - your bowed head, the delicate smell of your perfume, the pulse fluttering at your throat.

Yandere! Soldier who has to swallow and breathe before he can find his voice again.

Спасибо

Thank you.

You shrug and let go of his arm. Yandere! Soldier who hates to loose your touch. Who wants to pull you back and force you to cradle his face in your palms. But he doesn't want to ruin this tiny bit of progress.

Yandere! Soldier who fills the silence with his stories. Who tells you about his training, his childhood, the places he's been deployed to and how happy he was to leave them. Who teaches you words in his native language, even if you don't bother repeating them.

Yandere! Soldier who comes home exhausted and aching, who sprawls on the bed with a groan and instinctively reaches for you.

Yandere! Soldier who has to bite back a yelp of surprise when he feels your climb onto his back and straddle his waist. You slowly knead at his muscles, massaging away all the knots and tension and lingering aches.

Yandere! Soldier who has to stifle a moan because it feels so damn good.

Yandere! Soldier who finds you waiting at the door the next morning, still as quiet as a monk. He's immediately suspicious. Are you going to make a run for it? Instead you stand on your tip toes and press a quick, uncertain kiss to his cheek.

Yandere! Soldier who keeps touching the place you kissed him, even when it's hidden under his mask.

Yandere! Soldier who cooks you dinner most nights, even if he's dog tired, even if all you do is push it around your plate.

Yandere! Soldier who brings you news of the city and the war effort. The resistance is faltering, it's leaders hunted and put down like dogs. Part of him hopes the news will make you more pliant. Why fight the inevitable?

Yandere! Soldier who doesn't like the way your eyes get hard when he talks about the resistance, the way you clench your jaw and look away from him.

You mutter something and it takes him a moment to decipher it.

"I should be out there with them."

Yandere! Soldier who tries and fails to contain his anger. Who grabs your jaw and pulls you up to face him.

"If you were out there, you'd be dead. Can't you be thankful?"

You're quiet again after that and he stops bringing it up.

Yandere! Soldier who doesn't leave anything sharp around the apartment, but is still surprised when you ask him to trim your hair. He sits on the bed with you between his knees, carefully filtering the hair through his fingers. You're so close to him - willingly - that it makes him feel almost lightheaded.

Yandere! Soldier who carefully dusts the cuttings off you and is secretly pleased when you don't flinch away.

Yandere! Soldier who isn't sure how to react when you start greeting him at the door. At first he watches you warily, expecting you to bolt the second you can. But for some reason you don't and a part of him insists that you're starting to like it here.

Yandere! Soldier who exercises every evening, his shirt off and his black fatigues slung low on his hips. He likes it when you watch him and he'll usually throw in a few extra push-ups just to impress you. He complains that he doesn't have enough weight around for his workouts and you take to draping yourself across his back when he needs it.

Yandere! Soldier who finds himself craving you, even with your cold silence. Who is constantly aware of you around the apartment and has to force himself to look away.

Yandere! Soldier who turns off all the electricity in the dead of winter and claims it was damaged in the fighting. It's icy cold in old buildings like this and it doesn't take long for it to wear you down. Soon you're curled up against him, glaring at him to keep his hands to himself.

And he does, for the most part.

Yandere! Soldier who wakes up to you sobbing, your face pressed into his chest. He tries to soothe you, but you flinch away. You whisper between the sobs, sounding afraid and hateful and needy all at once.

"I love you..."

Yandere! Soldier who instantly understands what's happened. He's spent the better part of his life in war zones afterall, and it's more common than you'd think. Yandere! Soldier who secretly hoped for this outcome all along.

Yandere! Soldier who soothes you as best he can, stroking your hair until your sobs turn to whimpers. He presses his lips to your forehead and tells you to relax, that this was bound to happen, that's it's not your fault.

Yandere! Soldier who holds you in his scarred arms and knows that he's finally caught you, body and soul. Who says the words you long for but dread hearing.

я тоже тебя люблю

"I love you too."

[sheeezu]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁Non-dualism , it's significance in shifting.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

A little background, I am into non-dualism (hindu traditional) and in an ask I answered, I left in a small mention of non-dualism. A (singular) gatekeeper brought in their harassment train over to my inbox, I handled their first ask, but this morning they shared their valuable and corrupted braincells with me, mind you, with full hatred. They did attach a post, probably from another non-dualism gatekeeper, which I couldn't get to since I blocked the anon to preserve my energy.

It made me think.... someone supposedly following a philosophy full of love could be so.. lowly, tense, and triggered. That's not at all what non dualism is. What concerned me more, was the level of gatekeeping, I do not gatekeep. I will never gate-keep, something my whole life is devoted to (my spiritual belief) I would never deprive anyone else of them. ...if these people exist, does the shifting community really have a good, comprehensive exposure to non-dualism? . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

⊹ ࣪ ˖Firstly, ◇what is non-dualism ◇ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

What it is, is a quick google search away. In short words, it teaches that you're not a separate entity. You're not separate from nature, universe, any form of existence and the divine. Its the technique which involves erasing the lines of distinction, to flow energy through all. You emerge from something, it emerges from you. If you look up non-dualism it'll tell you, you're living in one reality, which wouldn't make sense because you'll ask, "wait, then where's the concept of the multiverse?" And my response is.... that reality is your consciousness. Everything is a projection of your consciousness. There has always been one, the provider of sacred energy which keeps the wheels running, that provider directly aligns with your beliefs, god, or you. (Okay don't laugh at me for this) some examples, so non-dualism can register in your brain before we move forward.

- You are the ocean, similarly the ocean, the waves, the life within, the presence of a balanced ecosystem beneath the water is you.

- you personify both change and stillness.

- this environment is a reflection of your inner self.

- the void state is a proof of your non-dual state.

- you are an eternal being but at time you represent mortality.

⋆⭒˚.⋆Therefore your identity is not defined.⋆⭒˚.⋆

(Next, something quite eye-opening if you're able to understand it; from Mandukya Upanishad)

Turīya is not that which is conscious of the internal (subjective) world, nor that which is conscious of the external (objective) world, nor that which is conscious of both, nor that which is a mass all sentiency, nor that which is simple consciousness, nor that which is insentient. (It is) unseen (by any sense organ), not related to anything, incomprehensible (by the mind), un-infer-able, unthinkable, indescribable, essentially of the nature of Consciousness constituting the Self alone, negation of all phenomena, the Peaceful, all Bliss and the Non-dual. This is what is known as the fourth (Turīya). This is the Ātman and it has to be realized.

₊⊹A gatekeeper's worst nightmare - can you uneducated, possessing a lowly caste, "stupid" (❗sarcasm intended, in response to the anon, I love you all so much please do not kill me ❗) people implement non-dualism into shifting; why yes of course. It is simply a belief. Like you believe manifestation occurs, like you believe the sun rises each morning, like you believe seasons change, nobody can steal your powers from you, and you're free to do whatever, you're limitless, and let's be real, we don't have any old monks or gurus to please here, we all want to shift.₊⊹

^᪲᪲᪲Non-dualism in shifting - the concept. ^᪲᪲᪲

When you lay down to shift; you constantly try to achieve some state, a state of being in your dr. According to non-dualism, the state has already been achieved, since you are not separate from it. Similarly, you're not separate from the version of you who has shifted; you're not distinct from your dr self, you're already well blended into the environment and atmosphere of your dr. So basically, we circle back to our pillars of shifting belief:

- "you're already in your dr, right now"

- "you shift every second"

- "shifting doesn't require effort"

- "shifting is instant"ּ

٠ ࣪⭑Non-dualism in shifting - the application ٠ ࣪⭑

(I'm going to do points since it looks cleaner)

- if non dualism resonates with you- adapt it into your day to day life, your stream of thoughts. Look at the sky, "That's me", look at the soil, "That's me", look at the liveliness of nature, "That's me", imagine a visual of you living your best life, "That's me."

- related to void or trance state, remember, the blackness behind your eyes, is you, and that blackness is the void state. And you are the void state.

- You are the knowledge; you are the wisdom you require to shift and manifest.

- You are the state of being in your dr, and you are the state of not being in your dr ... I don't know... choose what's convenient? :)

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Ladies and gentlemen, that concludes it. I hope all of you all sleep enlightened and in full bliss tonight. Secondly, next time you send in an ask to challenge me, I- I will write essays to prove you wrong.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

[wonderjanga]

Hunting Trip

A little add-on to my Marvel and the Supernatural post from a long time ago. I also took a little bit of inspiration from @yazz-frost’s reposts. It also has inspiration from someone else’s post. I don’t remember who wrote it but they use the characters I used so I want to credit them as well.

Bruce thought over Marvel’s offer. After stewing over it for a couple days, he(Alfred) came to the decision that he would go with the Captain and the rest of his “buddies” to go hunt a bunch of Wendigos. His “buddies” turned out to be Raven and Jason blood.

Jason Blood: “The Batman, a teenage girl, and the Champion of Magic. What a wonderful group we are.”

Marvel: “Oh, and you can’t forget the demon!”

Raven: “I’m also a demon, Captain.”

Marvel: “Hmm… Then you can’t forget the guy that transforms into a demon.”

Raven: “I can also do that.”

Marvel: “Hmmmmm… you can’t forget the guy that’s like 400 years old and has fought in numerous wars.”

Jason Blood and Raven: *both give him a thumbs up*

Batman: *already lamenting his(Alfred’s) decisions*

They go full family camping/hunting trip for this. They got the SUV, they got the road trip songs, they got the magically enchanted weapons brought specifically for Bruce because of his lack of magic. They’re set and for once, Bruce is not the dad in this situation. Weirdly, Marvel is? Both Blood and Raven are brooding in the back like teenagers. They’re also playing tic-tac-toe against each other on Raven’s phone. To be honest, Bruce doesn’t really know what his dynamic is in this group.

Batman: *shoots a Wendigo with a magical crossbow and kills it*

Marvel: “You’re a wonderful shot, Mr. Batman sir!”

Batman: “Thank you. I have the Tibetan monks I trained with to thank for my accuracy.”

Jason Blood: “You and Tibetan monks, man…”

Raven: “What do you mean by that?”

Jason Blood: “I mean, he uses that excuse for literally every skill he has. Astral Projection? Tibetan monks. Blocking mind control? Tibetan monks. Blocking mind reading? Tibetan Monks.”

Marvel: “Wait, the is it the Tibetan monks in Shangri-La?”

Batman: “Yes actually.”

Marvel: “Oh I know those guys! Raven do you remember the time we went there together?”

Raven: “Yes. Their mental techniques are really useful.”

Jason Blood: “Oh my God, you know them too?”

After curbing the Wendigo population…

Jason Blood: “Captain?”

Marvel: “Yes?”

Jason Blood: “Are you gonna take the Wendigo skin?”

Marvel: “Nope. You can have it all if you want. Unless you want some Batman?”

Batman: *sounds a little disturbed* “No thank you.”

Marvel: “Great. By the way, be careful when you’re skinning them around the eyes. Raven wants them.”

Jason Blood: “Aye aye, Captain.”

Batman: “Actually, wait, Blood, can I have a little bit so I can study it later?”

Later…

Jason Blood: *looking at the others, all covered in blood, including himself*

Marvel: *humming a jolly little tune as he packs up their stuff*

Raven and Batman: *looking broody(their normal selves*

Jason Blood: “One of us is not like the other.”

Marvel: “What was that?”

Jason Blood: “Nothing.”

[639-hear-me-out-bby]

under a thousand moons | jinu saja

each night, he plays his worn bipa beneath the temple eaves—music born not of glory, but of need, of survival, of something quietly breaking. she hears it from across the city, a melody like a secret meant only for her. when they finally meet, it isn't grand or loud—it’s soft, inevitable, like a thread tugging two hearts closer. in a city that forgets the poor and passes by the quiet, one boy’s song and one girl’s pause become the start of something neither of them expected—and neither can forget.

pairing: kpdh jinu x f. reader (she/her pronouns used) genre: rom-fantasy, timeless love, angst, slow burn (i hope i deliver aaaaaa) rating: teen and up audiences warnings: poverty, emotional vulnerability, animal neglect (implied mention), soft angst word count: 2.7k+ credits & honoraries: inspired by @scribblewytch’s incredible fic—thank you for letting me build off your magic ♡ nabi's notes: this movie has me in a chokehold im tellin' y'all soooo here's my entry to the fandom. to many more!✧˖° ⊹ ࣪ ˖

the bipa had five strings. two were frayed. one never stayed in tune, no matter how often he coaxed it. but when he sat down to play, it didn’t matter. the sound it made was still beautiful—raw and unpolished, yes, but achingly human. like something old and weathered that still remembered how to sing.

each day began the same way. at dawn, he rolled up his sleeves and helped his mother run the small tteok stall they kept on the edge of the lower market row. it was nothing special—just a squat wooden cart, its lacquer faded from too many summers, with a rusted grill and a few baskets of skewered rice cakes waiting to be cooked. they brushed each one with a glaze of sweet soy, let the sugar bubble and crisp over the coals until it shimmered, then handed them over with folded hands. some customers came with kind words. most came and went in silence. a few haggled over every coin. but his mother never turned anyone away.

by midday, the heat clung to their skin like syrup, and the scent of grilled tteok soaked into his sleeves. his fingers were often sticky from the glaze, and the soles of his sandals were worn thin from standing. still, they didn’t complain. that stall kept them fed. most nights, they brought home whatever hadn’t sold and reheated it for dinner.

only after they closed up—after the coals died down and the cart was wheeled into the narrow alley behind their home—did he sling the bipa over his back and make the climb to the temple wall.

there, just beyond the final incense stalls, beneath the tiled eaves that curved like crescent moons, he sat and played. the space was small, no wider than a doorway, but it shielded him from wind and rain. smoke from incense coils lingered in the corners, curling like ghost-thin ribbons around the worn stone. monks passed by in silent rows, their eyes never drifting toward him. not out of cruelty—just habit. to them, he was part of the landscape. a boy and his old instrument, folded into the city’s edge like moss on a wall.

he wore the same clothes each evening: a thin tunic that might’ve once been sky blue, now faded to the color of old parchment, patched at the seams. a ribbon of cloth—once red, now rust-brown—tied his hair back from his face. but the wind always had its way. strands slipped free and clung to his cheeks, kissed by the night air. he never pushed them aside.

around him, the kingdom moved. the scrape of sandals on cobble. the creak of carts laden with root vegetables and late-summer melons. laughter drifted up from the market below, mingled with haggling and half-sung lullabies. somewhere down the slope, a city official barked at delivery boys, his voice sharp as cut metal. and still, the boy played.

not for attention. not for pity. not even for coin—though sometimes a silver or two clinked to the ground from a passing stranger. there was no jar in front of him. no woven hat. only dust, and the long, curling shadow cast by the setting sun.

the music was quiet at first. a murmur. the low breath of something buried deep beneath the city’s noise. it didn’t rise like a grand overture. it seeped. moved. unfurled. a melody not born from memory but from need—notes remembered by the body.

it wasn’t a courtly tune, nor one meant for festivals or drinking nights. it was older. nameless. felt, not recognized. like something that lived between stories and prayers.

his fingers moved not with elegance, but with persistence. each note was earned. grit carved into calluses, calluses pressed into chords. his wrists ached from lifting tteok all day, from the strain of playing the same refrain until it stitched itself into his bones. the pain didn’t stop him. it was part of the rhythm.

"that again," muttered a woman, shifting the baskets on her shoulders.

"always that same sound," her companion said, wiping his brow with a rag.

"like a funeral."

"no," she said after a moment. "like something trying not to die."

a stray cat had taken up residence nearby—a scrappy thing with matted fur and ribs like bent reeds. it limped with every step, its tail dragging like a tattered ribbon. he sometimes fed it. never touched it. but he never made it leave. it came back each night and curled beside him, closing its eyes like it, too, needed the music to stay whole.

when the final note came, it didn’t rise. it fell—quietly, like the last ember giving in to ash. there was no applause. no dramatic hush. only the wind and the continued murmur of the city.

but the air had shifted. ever so slightly. like something had been scraped away, leaving a raw edge where silence used to be.

he leaned back against the temple wall. the stone was cool. firm. familiar in the way old things are—unyielding but steady. the wind slipped past him, threading through alleyways, brushing across rooftops like a whisper. his music went with it, tangled in the scent of grilled tteok, smoke, and rain.

down the crooked street, past the baker’s alley and silk stalls, a girl paused.

she was running errands, a woven basket clutched to her chest. her sleeves were rolled to the elbow, hands dusted with flour. her hair was pinned in a loose coil, held by a carved wooden comb that had begun to slip. people brushed past her, muttering complaints, but she didn’t notice.

her head tilted. not toward him—she couldn’t see him from where she stood—but toward the sound. that soft, distant melody floating between rooftops and lamplight. she had heard it before. every night, as she closed her father’s shop. always that same tune, never quite the same twice.

there was something in it—something that curled beneath her ribs and settled warm in her chest. as if the music was calling to something inside her she hadn’t yet named.

she didn’t smile. didn’t cry. she just stood there, for one breath longer than necessary.

and then she moved.

but her steps were slower now. not heavy. not sad. just... changed. as though the music had rearranged something inside her. smoothed something out. stirred something else.

she always heard it.

and tomorrow—maybe—she would follow it.

she was the shaman’s daughter, her mother, the royal spiritual and physical practitioner to the queen and the women of the palace. her mother’s hands—soft, but stained with oils and ash—moved between this world and the next with a grace that was half-learned, half-inherited. she was the one the queen called upon for warding dreams, easing births, or quieting the tremors that followed sorrow. her words were few, her silences deep. the girl had grown up beside her, tucked into quiet corners of court halls and forest shrines alike.

that morning, she walked the palace path with a woven basket in hand, heavy with herbs and thread. she was to wait by the eastern courtyard, where the garden met the temple wall, until her mother finished tending to the queen’s favored attendant—a young woman who had woken with a grief she couldn’t name. the girl did not ask questions. she had learned to let silence carry its own answers.

she sat on a stone ledge beneath a fig tree whose limbs arched low like old shoulders. sunlight filtered through the broad leaves, dappling her arms and the ground with uneven gold. the breeze carried the mingled scents of jasmine, roasted barley, and sandalwood. around her, the palace stirred with its usual rhythm—slippers whispering against stone, the faint clatter of bowls after morning offerings, the low calls of guards changing posts.

and then—she heard it.

that sound.

the bipa.

the boy had moved closer. she hadn’t seen him at first, but the music reached her before her eyes did. it always did. the thread of melody wove through the morning noise, rising from somewhere near the incense stalls beyond the temple gate. it was unmistakably his—rough around the edges, aching in places, but with a core of beauty that couldn’t be dulled.

she rose slowly and stepped out of the fig tree’s shade.

there he was.

seated cross-legged near the worn stone steps, tucked into the angle where two walls met, his back straight and his hands steady on the bipa’s body. the instrument looked more frayed than ever—its lacquer dulled with use, one string stretched so thin she was surprised it held. yet he played it like it was whole. like it had never known a flaw.

he didn’t play like the court musicians. there was no flourish, no poised performance. his hands moved with the rhythm of someone who knew work: who had scrubbed pots, flipped skewers, stacked bowls, then picked up his instrument. his sleeves still bore faint traces of dark sauce—evidence of the morning’s labor at his family’s stall along the lower market road. she had passed it once. she remembered a woman—likely his mother—turning skewers of grilled rice cakes over hot coals, brushing them with sweetened soy as steam rose into her face.

now, in the hush at the temple’s edge, he played. not to perform. not for coin. but for something quieter. truer. as though the sound was part of his breath, and he simply needed to let it out before it collapsed inside him.

she watched his fingers curve around the strings—not with elegance, but with effort. there was strength in the way he played, the kind born of repetition and necessity. the music wasn’t delicate, but it was deliberate. it resonated.

around them, the palace continued—vendors calling prices, monks sweeping walkways, officials stepping from palanquins—but it all seemed dulled, like the world had slipped underwater, and only the music remained sharp.

her fingers tightened around the basket’s handle.

her mother would appear soon—tall, solemn, cloaked in robes faintly scented with mugwort and pine. she would say nothing, only tilt her head in that knowing way, and the girl would follow. that was how it always went. routine wrapped in reverence. tradition passed like a cup of tea between hands.

but for now, she remained still.

her gaze lingered on the boy. his dark hair, tied back with a faded ribbon, caught the sunlight like thread in a loom. his face was calm, focused—neither hardened nor soft. his clothes were modest, worn but clean, carefully cared for even if the dye had faded to parchment hues. he looked like someone with nothing extra to give, but who gave anyway.

and the music—gods, the music.

it pulled at her, low in the ribs. not like a tune sparking memory, but like a sound tapping something older. like the cry of a crane over still water. like wind through hollow bamboo.

without thinking, her lips parted.

a hum slipped out—quiet, instinctive. a single note, then another. she didn’t sing in words, only tones. barely more than breath. a harmony beneath his melody. not strong enough to interrupt. just enough to thread through the spaces he left open.

her song met his like a second flame catching the edge of the first.

she didn’t know why she sang. only that her heart felt suddenly full—of smoke and sunlight and something she hadn’t named in years. something like longing. something like recognition.

and still, the boy never looked up.

he didn’t need to. the music didn’t ask to be noticed.

it only asked to be heard.

and across the courtyard, standing in that quiet pause between waiting and duty, she answered.

evening stretched thin across the city, staining the sky in folds of indigo and rose. the lanterns along the temple road were already lit, their warm glow pooling on the stone path like spilled gold. a breeze carried the scent of grilled chestnuts, burnt sugar, and the tail end of incense.

he sat in his usual spot, beneath the curved eaves of the temple wall, just beyond where vendors were packing up for the night. the bipa rested in his lap, its wood familiar beneath his fingers. he had just returned from helping his mother. his sleeves still faintly smelled of sweet soy and smoke.

he wasn’t playing yet. just sitting with the weight of the day in his limbs, brushing his thumb lightly across a string. adjusting. listening. breathing. the cat had already curled beside him, tail tucked in, eyes half-closed.

then—soft footsteps.

she appeared like a skipped beat in the rhythm of the street. a figure not meant to be there, and yet exactly right. she walked quickly at first, basket in hand, sleeves rolled from a long day, her hair pinned with the same comb now slightly askew. she looked like someone with tasks to finish, brisk in her steps, measured in her pace.

but then she heard it.

just a few notes, plucked like drifting questions. not a song yet—just a whisper of one.

she slowed. then stopped.

he noticed her before she noticed him. a slight hesitation in her step. a tilt of her head. she stood at the base of the stairs, caught between leaving and lingering.

he hadn’t meant to meet her eyes. but he did.

and something flickered—quick and quiet—between them. not quite recognition. just a shared pause. a subtle understanding neither of them could name.

she took a cautious step closer.

“is that a bipa?” she asked, voice low, careful not to disturb the silence.

“it is,” he replied, adjusting the tuning peg. his voice was soft, a little rough from the smoke and the long day, but steady.

“it sounds like…” she hesitated. “like wind inside a memory.”

he smiled—not widely, but enough. “that’s a good way to put it.”

she looked at the worn edges of the instrument, the curve of its belly, the way it seemed to fit him like a second spine. “i always hear it from down the hill. at the weaving stalls. every night.”

“i didn’t think anyone noticed,” he said.

“i notice.”

another silence stretched—longer now, not heavy, but held. she set her basket down at the stone wall’s edge and sat, folding her legs beneath her. not too close. not too far. the cat, ever territorial, glanced at her, then looked away.

“do you take requests?” she asked.

he chuckled softly. “only if you don’t mind it sounding a little... frayed.”

“i don’t mind.”

she looked at him then—not just his face, but the whole of him. how the threadbare tunic sat across his shoulders. how the ribbon in his hair was more string than silk. how his hands looked strong and worn and capable.

“what you play,” she said, “feels like it’s holding something together.”

he paused. then nodded, gaze lowering to the strings.

“i play because if i don’t,” he said quietly, “i’m afraid something in me might fall apart.”

he plucked the first note.

it rang out, low and full, then trembled softly into the night. the next followed. and the next—until the music unfolded like breath held too long. there were no words to the song, but she understood it anyway.

he played for her—not with grandeur, but with honesty. like unspooling thread from the chest. the sound rose and fell, shifting between shadows and lantern light. around them, the city exhaled. voices passed. the day let go.

when the music faded, she didn’t speak right away.

“do you always play like that?” she asked finally.

he shrugged lightly, wiping his fingertips on his tunic. “only when someone’s really listening.”

she looked down at her hands. then up at him again. “i’ll listen tomorrow, too.”

he didn’t answer. but something in his expression warmed.

then she stood, lifted her basket, and introduced herself.

he nodded. “i know.”

her brow lifted, amused. “you do?”

“you ask for the broken tteok at the end of the day,” he said. “you give it to the street dogs when you think no one’s looking.”

she flushed. “so you do notice.”

he shrugged. “only some things.”

she smiled—not wide, not bright, but real. the kind of smile that made the evening feel whole.

“i’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.

then she turned and walked down the path. her steps were quieter now, as if she didn’t want to disturb the fading echo of his music.

and he sat a while longer, fingers resting on the strings, eyes on the place where she had been.

they had met by chance.

but in the way the world stilled for just a breath—just long enough for two people to notice each other—they had met at exactly the right moment.

should i continue? heart, reblog, or interact whatever. i highly appreciate feedback!

[thebramblewood]

For one night only, Glimmerbrook University and the Council of Sages proudly present Mr. Mysterio's Floating Circus!

Previous / Next

I must direct a massive thank you to @surely-sims and @doctorsimcraft for not only their incredible Simblreen set but also the stunning build and Sims that accompanied it, without which I could never have mustered up such a beautiful backdrop. I added the carousel, but the rest is theirs. Eternally grateful for your generosity and talent!

Morgyn: Have you had enough time to consider it yet?

Caleb: Consider what?

Morgyn: [rolls eyes] You know what.

Caleb: I’m still not sure it’s a good idea. People already gossip. Living outside the Realm — with your vampire lover, no less — will only open you up to more scrutiny.

Morgyn: I’m not a monk, Caleb. I can live wherever I want with whoever I want, and it has no bearing on my role as a Sage.

Caleb: [tilts head uncomfortably] They seem to think it does.

Morgyn: They may be traditionalists, but deep down they know a little modernization is good for the Realm. Besides, there’s hardly another spellcaster waiting in the wings to take my job. They can’t fire me.

Caleb: That won’t stop the general public from clamoring for it anyway.

Morgyn: A small minority maybe. Spellcasters have never been a monolith, and the younger generation is more open-minded than ever. Cross-occult discrimination is at an all time low. Gemma just turned in a paper on it.

Caleb: [grunting with effort] Lilith wouldn’t like it.

Morgyn: Ah, now we get to the crux of your argument. Respectfully, Caleb, I know she’s family, but she’s also selfish and manipulative. Your philosophies are no longer compatible, if they ever were. Would it kill you to admit you’ve grown apart?

Caleb: Yes, she can be cruel, but it’s only because-

Morgyn: She’s jealous, of course. She wants you all to herself. But you’d think after a century you’ve earned the right to your own life. It would benefit you both.

Caleb: What if it’s just too soon?

Morgyn: [chuckles] You may be an old man, and I’m no spring chicken myself, but five years is plenty long enough. I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life.

Caleb: [quietly] But it won’t last forever. You’re keeping old age at bay for now, but one day you’ll have to relent, and then-

Morgyn: That’s a problem for the very distant future. [whispers] Just promise you’ll keep thinking about it.

Caleb: I’ve thought about it.

Morgyn: And?

Caleb: Let’s do it.

Morgyn: Great! There’s an adorable little cottage for sale on the outskirts of Glimmerbrook. We can swing by and see it before you head back-

Caleb: [laughs] You were never going to let me say no, were you?

[prying-pandora666]

I don’t know how to say this tactfully, but I’ll do my best.

If other fans online have convinced you to see the gentle, optimistic, empathetic, fun loving, whimsical, forgiving, wise beyond his years genocide survivor, as a sexist, racist, xenophobic, abusive, pro-colonization, sexual assault perpetrator who doesn’t care about anyone else and doesn’t understand trauma…

You have been LIED TO.

Please just think for a moment!

ATLA was banned in China from the beginning for a reason. Because they didn’t want anyone empathizing with a character based on Tibetan monks. Why? Because they are an actual oppressed and persecuted minority IRL. Their religious leader lives in exile. Their second most important spiritual figure is the youngest political prisoner ever taken (and to this day no one knows if he’s alive or dead!). China has actual prison and labor camps. Tibetan people get sent there for “re-education”.

Can you please think about what these “fans” are saying when they stomp all over this allegory in TLA and try to frame Aang as the oppressor?

Do you really think it’s appropriate or these people who call Aang all these horrible (and inaccurate) things are being in anyway fair when they call Aang “white coded”???

Even without the real world context, Aang is explicitly the only survivor of a genocide. The last of his people. He has lost more than anyone else in the entire franchise. There’s a reason he clings so hard to Appa.

Do you think it’s fair to compare a 12 year old misreading signals and trying to kiss a girl who already consensually kissed him before, and immediately backing off and giving her space when she says no, to rape?

Tweens and teens miscommunicating and trying to comfort each other with kisses, only to realize that’s not what their friend needed and immediately backing off is the same as having your body violently violated against your will? The same as having your “no” ignored?

How do you think this makes survivors feel? To see people use their experiences as a shield and cudgel for ship discourse? It certainly upsets me as someone who experienced intimate partner violence, let me tell you! And I know I’m not the only one.

And how is it in anyway feminist or pro-Katara to ignore her own agency and deep love she shows for Aang? Yes, that includes her own crush on him! It IS reciprocated!

Lastly, you don’t need to demonize Aang to ship whatever you want to ship. Please understand that the majority of these takes are bad faith and born out of bitterness and insecurity over a friggin FANON SHIP.

And none of it is necessary! You can ship whatever you want! You don’t need permission or excuses. You can just ship them! You can make your case for why you like another pairing better without misrepresenting what happened in the show and what these characters are like, let alone what they represent.

There’s already plenty to work with in the show as it is! Otherwise why bother?

I’m imploring fans taken in by persuasive and manipulative metas to please just think about it. Get off social media and rewatch the show for yourself thoughtfully.

It doesn’t need to be like this.

[evilminji]

Weird/Unusual Crossover time?

Weird/unusual crossover time! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ (oh shit~! She's back on her billshit!) (That's RIGHT! Nothing is sacred and NO ONE IS SAFE!)

ANYWAYS~

Danny Phantom. Cultivation Novels (my current obsession). A match made in hell? Or an exciting new adventure‽ Cause like... the Zone DOES go EVERYWHERE, right? Infinite means Infinite means "Literally Without End" Infinite.

As in, Forever.

You COULD, in fact, pick a direction and just... keep going. Forever. For always. Without end or limits. The Zone is not just "really, REALLY big and we need a word your mind could comprehend." Not "as big as a galaxy or the known universe". It is? On a scale that even GODS can not comprehend.

The place GODS go to die. A place they are BORN from. The great primordial soup where universe end and begin anew. Where the cracks are glued backed together, and the souls of the living flow in and out. Endless scraps of fabric, realities, atop a churning sea of green. Keeping everything even.

After all... you can't CREATE a soul. They got to come from SOMEWHERE. Where do you THINK they arrive from? When populations grow? Thin air‽

But... ah~, there in lays the rub, doesn't it? Would knowing the Zone? Knowing SOME of it's mysteries and machinations (for NO ONE, not even all the Ancients COMBINED, can ever claim to understand even a fraction of them all.) mean that Danny??? Was powerful in a Cultivation reality?

He's certainly a powerful GHOST.

But?? They FIGHT ghosts all the time. Wouldn't he be WEAKER and more in danger? As they try to hell the restless spirit move on? Not knowing he is balanced between life and death? They could very well kill him.

Which, given the moral standards of the Realm? Would NOT be viewed as a bad thing.

But! On the OTHER hand?

He is a ZONE ghost. Not a simple spirit. Far beyond what they are used to dealing with. Arguably? ASCENDANT. From a higher plane of existence. A lower one. Several steps to the side. He is, for all intents and purposes, shrimp colors to the human eye. The color blue to a blind man. An orb to the two dimensional.

CAN he even interact with the world's cultivation systems? Does it recognize him as a god? A dead man? Some sort of ascendant dead god?

Something... Not Right™

Yet still utterly natural? Clearly not meant to be here. Yet... not wicked. Granted, not, perhaps, benevolent. But...

Because what IS he? Is he a boy? A man? A corpse? Immortal, perhaps? Is this creature a demon? The resentful dead? They DONT KNOW! It... probably scares a lot of them. Makes some of them think he is a test. Probably makes OTHERS wanna fight (friend? Hey! New friend!).

And like? Why would Danny even BE there? He's already immortal. The swords are pretty cool... but he has Fenton tech.

So, WHY?

I propose?

His well know Anger Issues. His fear of becoming Dan. He's heard meditation is good for shit like that, right? Mindfulness and stuff. Sam recommended it. And? They were watching Fantasy Kung-fu 17, "bamboo monks of vengeance" (now with more slow motion aerial battles). So he was like? Hmmmm... those misty valleys and mountains shots DO looks relaxing... I could go camping...

Maybe find a mysterious old kung-fu monk? Is that what they are? Tucker. Tucker! What's the name of this genre again? Xanxia. Yeah. That! I'll do the whole "live, laugh, love. Hot girl, cultivation summer" thing! That'll fix my shit! This is a GREAT idea!

Thus? Danny. Terrorizing some poor Xanxia Cultivation world with his Zone Ghostiness. Pretending to be a human... very, VERY badly. Yes, hello Fellow Locals! It is him! Average Human Man! Take me to your *checks notes* Cultivation Sect! *smiles with far too many teeth*

#nailedit he's gonna get SUCH a good job at blending in! A thing that is both real and possible to achieve!

@babbling-babull @legitimatesatanspawn @mayfay @hdgnj @spidori @the-witchhunter @leftnotright @lolottes

[okaysonny]

about james lee ╏ taesoo ma + first gen kings

𓇼 summary: taesoo finally found james lee — he figures he should tell the other kings.

𓇼 details: no reader, takes place after the dg vs taesoo fight (one night arc)

𓇼 wc: 1.4k

𓇼 A/N: thanks to the anon who gave me the idea! there's not much source material for any of them, but...i tried my best to write them in character (-.-)

!!! we don't know how long jaegyeon + dg have been working together. if it's revealed he already knew dg's identity during one night arc...we can just say he's playing dumb 😝

Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 created the group 'ABOUT JAMES LEE'

Jichang Kwak Taesoo? JaegyeoN❤️ Na 🚗 Oh ffs Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 Hello everyone. You know I wouldn't be contacting you all for no reason. I'm recovering in Gangbuk right now and I'd rather not have a group face time. This is about James Lee SEOKDU WANG Yeah we can see that. Thanks for making us look like stalkers Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 Shut up. You know as well as I do how much that prick terrorised us, which is why my people in Ansan made a plan to lure him out. I found James Lee Jichang Kwak You have? JaegyeoN❤️ Na 🚗 Seriously??? DAEHO TEMPLE 🧘☸️ Greetings 😊 This monk doesn't indulge in technology, but it must've been Buddha's will that this phone fell into my hands...What's this about James Lee? Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 Hello Gongseob. Still putting up this sham I see DAEHO TEMPLE 🧘☸️ It must also be Buddha's will to choke you with my prayer beads 😊😊 Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 I'll snap off that prosthetic leg while you're at it DAEHO TEMPLE 🧘☸️ You talk as if you don't have a glass eye 😊 Jichang Kwak Jesus Christ, how did you two children manage to rule your regions? Taesoo, you have us all here, so get to the point. Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 Right, James isn't just in hiding like we all thought. He's taken on a completely new identity, one that's very visible to the public...essentially, he's hiding in plain sight. SEOKDU WANG A new identity that's public? Why would James risk that? Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 No idea. But he fooled me for a good while when I first saw him Jichang Kwak But the bottom line is you saw him, right? So who is he? Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 Yes...and I fought with him. Everyone...this is James Lee

Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗

taesoo stares at the screen in confusion. no one sent anything for a good while.

until finally:

DAEHO TEMPLE 🧘☸️ 😧😧😧 Jichang Kwak ...You sent the wrong picture JaegyeoN❤️ Na 🚗 I don't even wanna know why you have this saved. Aren't you a little too old to be listening to him? 😬 SEOKDU WANG Exposing yourself in such a way...I'd be embarrassed if I were those Ansan kids Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 What the hell??? No you idiots. This is James Lee. He's been hiding as Diego Kang, better known as DG, a famous idol.

taesoo blinks as the chat goes silent again.

until...

JaegyeoN❤️ Na 🚗 🤣🤣😭😭 Jichang Kwak Taesoo... SEOKDU WANG Go vegan and these hallucinations won't happen Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 WHAT??? I've seen him with my own two eyes, this man is James Lee...you guys don't believe me? DAEHO TEMPLE 🧘☸️ Hoho don't you mean one eye? 😊 And...lying goes against the 4th precept... Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 Fuck you firstly. Secondly, WHY would I lie about this? DG is James Lee and he came to Gangbuk once he saw his name was being used...that was the plan to lure him out.

DAEHO TEMPLE 🧘☸️

Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 What would I gain from making this up? JaegyeoN❤️ Na 🚗 I dunno but I always knew you were weird. No sane man willingly shits in the mountains Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 ??? You know I don't live there, right? And that's not the point. I'm telling the truth. Hudson was there too SEOKDU WANG All I'm saying is...you're the most vengeful towards James out of everyone here...so it's not impossible to think you got confused and beat up an innocent celebrity... Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 WHAT??? THAT'S ABSOLUTELY NOT WHAT HAPPENED

DAEHO TEMPLE 🧘☸️

Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 Send a Buddhist quote one more time I dare you Jichang Kwak Everyone...let's stop bickering for a moment. Taesoo, why don't you just tell us everything that happened? Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 Right...so basically, Hudson made a plan to lure out James by having a crew in Gangbuk use his name. James was obviously hiding for a reason, so he'd want to take out the threats to his concealment. DAEHO TEMPLE 🧘☸️ Little Hudson! 😄 His night club in Ansan is fantastic...or so I've heard. Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 😐 Anyway, it worked because James ended up coming. But before that, some 2nd generation kiddies were there...it's surprising but they were quite strong...I felt like I was back in my younger days. SEOKDU WANG Going toe to toe with the 2nd generation...this would never happen in Suwon Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 Whatever. It got interrupted when this guy with pink hair smashed through the window and started fighting me...he did scarily remind me of James but I didn't think too much of it JaegyeoN❤️ Na 🚗 I'm surprised you didn't recognise someone as famous as DG...then again, it makes sense given where you live 🤔 Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 I SAID I DON'T LIVE IN THE MOUNTAINS. And he was wearing some ski mask so I couldn't recognise him either way Jichang Kwak How did you know he was James? Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 That fucker repeated the same lines during our fight back then...that's when I knew. And when he took off his mask, I saw James' face in him. He didn't deny it either, in fact, he confirmed it for me. DAEHO TEMPLE 🧘☸️ Hmmm... Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 Listen...I know it's hard to believe, but ignore the pink hair and flashy accessories and just look at his face. Don't tell me he doesn't look like James.

taesoo sighs as the chat goes silent again, bracing himself for whatever mockery they throw at him.

but to his pleasant surprise:

SEOKDU WANG ...He does look like him JaegyeoN❤️ Na 🚗 And I always thought that kid had good looks...he could've definitely passed as an idol DAEHO TEMPLE 🧘☸️ They look alike, but how come no one else has noticed? Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 This weirdo changed his entire personality too. He's way more calm and stoic, not the cocky guy we saw back then. SEOKDU WANG Hang on, how did the fight go? If you're recovering in Gangbuk, does that mean you lost? Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 Well what do you think?

taesoo rolls his eyes as the radio silence returns. until eventually:

JaegyeoN❤️ Na 🚗 🤣🤣😭😭 Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 What is it now? JaegyeoN❤️ Na 🚗 YOU GOT BEAT BY SOMEONE WHO TWERKS FOR TEENAGE GIRLS 🤣🤣😭😭 SEOKDU WANG I just watched one of his performances...Taesoo...this is a new low DAEHO TEMPLE 🧘☸️ Defeated by James even after forgoing his identity...this too, must be Buddha's will Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 I hope you all choke. Unlike you, I can admit when I've lost fair and square, no matter my opponent. JaegyeoN❤️ Na 🚗 I bet you're crying behind the screen right now Jichang Kwak Stop it everyone. Let's not kick a man when he's already down. Taesoo has suffered enough humiliation Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 ? I just said I wasn't feeling humiliated but thanks JaegyeoN❤️ Na 🚗 I don't get it though, why would James change his whole persona? It can't just be because of the first generation…and he must've gotten help from someone to become DG SEOKDU WANG Wait, didn't he say 'join our group' when trying to recruit Seongji to that 4 major crews thing? Could it be them? Or one of them? Jichang Kwak I think you're bang on the money Seokdu. I have a hunch about why James went into hiding…and who helped him become Diego Kang. JaegyeoN❤️ Na 🚗 Woah. I feel like we're in a detective movie 😆 We should rename this group to 'Incheon Investigations' Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 I'm not changing it. And if anything, it should be called 'Ansan Investigations' because I'm the one who brought this up Jichang Kwak Stay on topic for 1 minute, I beg of you. Anyway, thanks for telling us Taesoo. I'm going to try discreetly look into this…you've been a big help for my investigations. P.S. - It should be called 'Chungcheong Investigations' because I'm in the police force. Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻 I had a feeling this was tied into the case you're investigating. James should be brought to justice. You've had to give up so much because of bastards like him. I hope you succeed. Jichang Kwak :) JaegyeoN❤️ Na 🚗 🤢 Get a room. Anyhow, is there a point in keeping this group? Unless you wanna make the right decision and rename it to 'Incheon Investigations' ;) Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 I will not. But there's no harm in keeping it, just in case anything noteworthy comes up. SEOKDU WANG ...This better not be a regular thing Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 Well I hated this conversation more than seeing that pink princess, so it won't! DAEHO TEMPLE 🧘☸️ Taesoo, can I ask you one thing? Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 What is it? DAEHO TEMPLE 🧘☸️ Since you're friendly with DG, would you mind asking him for some concert tickets as a donation to our temple? 😊

Taesoo Ma 👊🏻🐗 has left the group

A/N: jichang x taesoo is my fav rare pair ❤️ taesoo even said he'd investigate jichang's death at his funeral + he was the first king there bruh 🥺😭 ohhh my shayla...

P.S. - if you liked this, check out the j high gc fic that anon was talking about!

divider credits (thin maroon line)

divider credits (white and red)

[youremyheaven]

as someone who has been through a lot of different things (domestic violence, living with extremely mentally ill people, having literally no one to rely on, substance abuse, being extremely broke, r4pe.......you name it) one thing i want everyone to know is, THERE IS ALWAYS A SOLUTION. i know that things can feel like the end of the world and that you should just kys but even when things seem bleak, THERE IS ALWAYS A SOLUTION. you have to have the strength to believe that breakthroughs are possible BECAUSE THEY ARE

i have a friend who is a 36yr old unmarried woman who has always lived with her family and is now a full time baker. she once worked at goldman sachs, was an english teacher, was chronically ill through her 20s, survived near fatal car accidents (yes plural) and worked as a ghostwriter for chefs publishing recipe books. she has lived so many lives and a big reason why i like having older friends is the perspective it gives me on how long life is. you can change careers, you can switch paths, move cities, live at home, leave home forever, go bald, change your style, and literally do anything you want to do with your life. if you're going through something, just remember that this is just a blink in time, there is soooo much more waiting ahead of you.

i remember 2020-2021 being a really tough time for me and now i hardly remember what it was like. my mum had banned me from using any electronic devices so i was really rawdogging the pandemic and experiencing existential malaise that would send monks into a coma but also gave me deep profound spiritual epiphanies that would permanently shape me as a person

my life today looks extremely drastically different from my life 5years ago in the bestest of ways and i wouldnt be here if i gave up

so please

just keep going, there is always a solution

[froginmygarden]

It started with an ad: long day of work

"Hello, Surfer Smile Studio here, how can I help you? ... Yes, she does, let me check her scedual. ... No, Dr. Brown doesn't have any free time this week, but I can sign you up for next friday 13:45, would that work? ... Eccellent, we'll see you then!"

And that was the last call of the day, phone line now officialy off and with three hours remaining 'till cosing. Danny let out a painfull whine as he stretched his legs. Was he imagining it or was this day esspecially long? What he wouldn't do just for a short flight home, like right about now. But no all he got ware needles in his-

"Can you wait for Mrs. Jenkins to come by in 10? I got a go out for a bit."

"Sure," honestly he didn't want to, that old lady seemed to have it out for him since day one, he just wasn't a good enough anything in her eyes. Hell were he a dung pile she'd say he wasn't brown or smelly enough.

"Thanks," And off she went, already pulling out her light. Whatever mints Ann was using must be crafted by monks or come from heaven itself, because if that girl was to breath in your face you wouldn't be able to tell she'd had half a pack of thins a day. Or maybe the equipment was for show, and she only pulled them out when someone difficult was to show up, neither seemed more likeley.

With that he was alone at the reception. Again. There wasn't much to do but sit and wait for the next apointment, whitch was Jenkins. If only god all mighty would take her already.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The light seems dimmer then before, Danny thaught as he stepped up to the kiosk, maybe the string inside will snap soon.

"Do you need something?"

"No, just looking."

It was awfully empty tonight, no cars or pedestrians, no critters either, you could write a childrens rhym book about this.

Coming home was quiet, no lights on, no talking, just some dirty dishes and scattered toys. Dani was sound asleep in her bed. Yeah leaving her home alone wasn't the best or a long term plan, but they didn't have many options. Besides, while she had started behaving more her current age (whitch was a bit over a year old, based on size he'd guessed 13 months), Dani seemes to remember her old self, so she's not really a toddler, but this arrangment only lasts as long as everyone thinks he has a sitter for her, other times she gets a fun little trip to the dentist.

"Hi, honey, how was your day? I had the worst day today, you know. Can you immagine, some of these people-", Danny whispered on and on as he wiped the drool off of Dani's face. Honestly, she looked like a sweet little angel right now, so calm, so peacefule. It made him think that all that he does will be worth it at the end. But maybe it was just his "daddy brain" talking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And as you can see, this months activity has gone down by 15% since our last encounter, The Arctic seems to be retreating and recovering their losses whitch has sown displeasure amongst their current allys."

The stars were pretty today, or night, who knows. Look how they were all sparkling, and there went a satelite, and anoter one, and another, and another, and another but this time blue. Barry was bouncing his leg so hard it was kinda vibrating his chair, he didn't like that. Green Arrow seemed more interested it stringnig and unstringing his bow, whitch, sure, he'd like to have something a bit distracting too right about now. The rest seemed to more or less be paying attention, speaking of people, Supes was pretty figetty as well. Now what was that about?

"If nobody has anthing to add, this meeting is over. Green Latern, you are still expected at the med bay for scanning," and it was almost over, Hal could feel the sweet taste of ever aproaching freedom.

There wasn't anything wrong with him. What did he tell you? He can handle anything you throw his way, literally. He was just that good, so he was quickly sent on his way.

The night, as it turns out it was, was pretty nice. Not much traffic down on the roads and no sudden attacka, and it better stay that way, all he was currently interested in was crashing into bed and not getting up for a few days.

No one seemed to be awake and, while he wouldn't usually do this, he decided to just get in through the balcony, not feeling like flothing down, trasforming and then having to get all the way up again by stairs.

His head soon hit the pillow and let me tell you the feeling was euphoric, his body ached from his long patrol and getting dragged into a JL meeting right after didn't make it any better. But this? This made it all worth it in the end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

EVICTION NOTICE

Date: XX/XX/20XX

This notice is sent to Harold Jordan ("Tenant") and further directed to all residents, occupants, subtenants, and any others in posession of the Premises.

Property Adress: Apt. nr. XX, XX of XX str, Coast City ("Premises")

Lease Start Date: XX/XX/20XX ("Lease")

In accordance with your Lease and the laws located in this State, after service of this notice you are herbally given...

He takes it back, he didn't need anything disracting or interesting at all, he'd like to have this not happen, thank you very much. He'd rather listen to Bats go on about attack probabilities and tactics.

"ssssssssssss, fuck."

What the hell was he going to do now?

__________________________________

A/N: Heeeeeeeeeyyy. Sorry for the short chapter. I know the pacing is kind of slow, but please bear with me. I want to make a little build up to their first meating, so it's not basically "So they are room mates now", I do have a plot in mind, but again this is my first fic, so if anyone has pacing or conversation sugestions I'm all ears. Thanks to anyone who read this. <3

P.S. I'm posting on the computer, not sure how to put the "Show less" on, so I'm sorry if this takes a lot of screen space on mobile. :(

If I spot too major an error I'll edit it later.

[iyoonjh]

Beyond Plus Ultra! – The anatomy of falling in love

Chapter 16: From Dungeon to Deck Chair: The Fellowship of the Beach

wc: 2082 words

The apartment smelled like pizza, bad decisions, and the faint threat of Monster Mango Punch.

Soobin sat cross-legged on the carpet, pencil tucked behind one ear, a character sheet half-filled beside him, and a bowl of pretzel sticks within reach. Beomgyu had a bandana tied around his forehead for “battle energy,” Hueningkai was double-fisting Capri Suns like a sugar-fueled druid, and Taehyun—eternal Dungeon Master and occasional monk—sat at the head of the table with a mini fog machine and actual laminated maps.

“I cast Charm on the goblin guard,” Beomgyu declared, holding up a sparkly d20. “And then I ask him if he’s emotionally fulfilled in his job.”

“I’m going to scream,” Taehyun said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re trying to seduce the goblin again?”

“I’m trying to connect with him,” Beomgyu shot back. “Consentually. And with vibes.”

Sunghoon was perched on the edge of the couch in a hoodie two sizes too big, the sleeves swallowed his hands completely, giving him the appearance of a moody High Elf who’d been hexed into eternal comfort. He held a spell card up in front of him with the seriousness of a Shakespearean lead about to deliver a monologue in Act III of a drama no one else had read.

“By the celestial light of the twin moons,” he intoned, squinting dramatically, “I summon the sacred winds of Elarion—wait, wait, do I add my modifier to this?”

“Yes, but only if you’re not holding a cursed item,” Taehyun said without looking up.

“I’m literally holding a cursed item,” Sunghoon sighed. 

Beside him, Heeseung sat cross-legged with perfect posture, playing a kazoo version of The Lord of the Rings theme song like it was his druid-bardic duty. He was wearing a DIY cloak made from an old blanket and had penciled a tiny mustache onto his upper lip with eyeliner.

“I’m adding ambiance,” he said cheerfully, ignoring Yeonjun’s fourth aggressive glance.

“I will snap that kazoo in half like a breadstick,” Yeonjun hissed, glaring at him from across the table.

Yeonjun himself was the most overdressed person in the room—tight black jeans, silver rings on every finger, and a velvet choker that absolutely did not match his wizard robe but somehow still worked. He had two sets of dice laid out on a silk cloth like a tarot reading and a single tealight candle flickering dramatically beside his character sheet.

“You don't understand the mood,” he said when Taehyun asked if the candle was really necessary. “Besides, my dice roll better when they feel respected.”

Hueningkai was lying on his stomach across a bean bag, sketching an anatomically incorrect dragon with sunglasses on the back of a pizza box. He kept muttering things like “do goblins wear shoes?” and “how much emotional trauma can one elf carry before he becomes a bard?” Every few minutes, he’d gasp, snap his fingers, and write down notes for his future webcomic.

“Did you know octopuses have three hearts?” he said suddenly, looking up. “Imagine breaking all three. That’s so dramatic. I want to play a sea creature who just got ghosted by a mermaid and now he haunts tide pools.”

Leehan sat cross-legged by the window, furiously scribbling in a weathered field journal labeled Tidal Lore: Volume II. He wore a “Support Your Local Fish” T-shirt under a faded zip-up and had five different highlighters spread around him like a ritual circle. Occasionally, he’d whisper something to himself and nod solemnly, as if communing with the spirit of Poseidon.

It was chaos. Beautiful, stupid chaos.

Soobin had barely spoken in the last ten minutes. Not because he wasn’t having fun—he was, truly—but because his phone kept lighting up with new messages. From Y/N.

He couldn’t stop smiling.

That, of course, was his first mistake.

“Okay.” Yeonjun narrowed his eyes across the room like a hawk with better fashion sense. “Why is Soobin smiling like he just got kissed under a rainbow?”

Soobin blinked, thumb still hovering over his screen. “What?”

“Bro’s been checking his phone every six seconds,” Hueningkai said through a mouthful of gummy worms. “You’re glowing. Like, that glow people get when they are pregnant. It’s alarming.”

“I am not—” Soobin started.

“HE’S SOFT-LEANING,” Beomgyu gasped, pointing. “That’s the ‘I’m flirting with my crush and pretending I’m not panicking’ posture. Boobie, know your worth my boy.”

Sunghoon leaned forward. “Did Y/N text you?”

Soobin hesitated. And in that half-second of hesitation, the room exploded.

“Oh my GOD,” Heeseung howled. “She did!”

“Okay spill” Taehyun demanded, slamming his dice bag on the table with the weight of a federal agent.

Soobin sighed, but he couldn’t fight the grin crawling up his face. “Okay, fine. She invited me. Well, us.”

A beat. A pause so sharp you could hear the dramatic swell of nerdy destiny approaching.

“To…?” Hueningkai asked.

“Jake’s beach house,” Soobin said. “This weekend.”

The room erupted.

“WE’VE BEEN CHOSEN!” Beomgyu shouted, throwing his arms into the air like he was being knighted.

“We beat the social game,” Yeonjun said in awe. “We’re getting a beach episode.”

“I’ve been preparing for this moment my whole life,” Heeseung whispered, dramatically clutching his character sheet to his chest.

Sunghoon rolled off the couch entirely.

“I can’t go to a beach,” he groaned from the floor. “I’ll burn. I’ll melt. I’m pale and emotionally fragile.”

“I don’t own a swimsuit that’s not from middle school,” Hueningkai added. “It has Charizard on it.”

“BRING IT,” said Beomgyu immediately. “I’m wearing my sailor moon rash guard. We go down together.”

Leehan looked up from his sketchpad, completely serene. “Do you think I’ll be able to identify local tidepool species from the balcony?”

“Leehan,” Yeonjun said gently, “please do not give the crabs names again.”

“I only named five.”

“They followed him back to the Airbnb,” Taehyun muttered.

“THEY UNDERSTOOD ME.”

“Can we focus?” Soobin said, cheeks warm, eyes wide. “She invited us. That means we have to—like—be normal like we were at the party.”

Beomgyu laughed so hard he choked. “Yeah, right. Bro, you summoned a ghost in the last campaign by accident and apologized to it for interrupting her grave nap.”

“I’m just saying,” Soobin said, flustered, “this trip is kind of a big deal.”

“Because of Y/N,” Taehyun smirked.

“Because of—shut up. SHUT UP IMMEDIATELY.”

Yeonjun tossed a chip at him. “Just admit you’re already imagining a slow-motion beach kiss while a ukulele plays in the distance.”

“I—”

“And then you trip on seaweed and try to play it cool but she has to help you up,” Hueningkai added.

“And then you say something like ‘You’re prettier than the moonlight on the tide’ and we all die,” Beomgyu finished.

Soobin covered his face with both hands. “I hate all of you.”

“No, no,” Yeonjun said, leaning forward with a sparkle in his eye that could only mean chaos. “Important question. Who’s going?”

Soobin peeked out between his fingers. “I don’t know. Y/N said her whole group. Probably Jake, Jungwon, Yunjin, Sunoo, Jay—”

Yeonjun’s head snapped toward him. “Jay?”

“Oh god,” Soobin mumbled.

“JAY,” Yeonjun repeated, gripping the back of the chair. “My nemesis. My forever enemy. My beige counterpart. I must prepare.”

“Your what now?” Taehyun asked flatly.

“Listen,” Yeonjun said, standing up as if that would make his next sentence make sense. “We’ve spoken, like, three times ever. But every time he says something, I feel personally attacked. At the party he called my necklace ‘dramatic.’ Dramatic! It was a minimalist silver dagger!”

“He said in a fun way, he was trying to be social with you’” Beomgyu added helpfully.

“And yet,” Yeonjun said with a finger in the air, “Yunjin laughed.”

“Ah,” Heeseung said. “There it is.”

Yeonjun flopped dramatically back onto the couch. “If she’s there, I have to look good.”

“I saw a guy on instagram selling a cologne he promised to be aphrodisiac” Sunghoon offered from the floor. 

“And that's a pyramid scheme” Leehan told him.

“I’ll bring backup necklaces,” Yeonjun muttered to himself. “Statement pieces. Ones that scream ‘I'm in a band and also collect knives.’”

“You're in a band with Hueningkai” Heeseung mocked.

“Why do your accessories have backstories?” Soobin asked.

“They’re part of my lore.”

Meanwhile, Hueningkai, who had been very quiet until now, looked up with wide eyes. “What if we see dolphins?”

Everyone paused.

“I mean, yeah,” Soobin said slowly. “That could happen.”

“No. Like, what if they’re watching us?” Hueningkai whispered. “From just below the surface. Judging our land-walking rituals. Like, ‘look at these fools and their SPF 30.’”

Beomgyu gasped. “Kai. Have you been reading dolphin conspiracy blogs again?”

“I haven’t stopped,” he replied solemnly. “Also, fun fact: dolphins are one of the few non-human species that can recognize themselves in a mirror. So I’m gonna bring one to the beach. Just in case.”

“So what?” Heeseung asked, grinning. “You’re gonna walk up to the water, hold up a mirror, and wait to vibe-check the ocean?”

“Yes,” Hueningkai said without hesitation. “And if they wink at me, we’ll know. We’ll know.”

“You know what?” Taehyun muttered. “I’m not even gonna stop you. I want to see how that plays out.”

“Can I help?” Leehan asked, folding his crab journal closed with reverence. “I can chart dolphin reactions based on lunar phase and water clarity.”

“You’re all unhinged,” Soobin said, somehow fondly.

“Wait,” Yeonjun interjected, suddenly serious. “What are you wearing?”

Soobin blinked. “What?”

“To the beach. You’re the romantic lead now, remember?” Yeonjun leaned forward again, eyes gleaming, Heeseung shook his head. “You need to serve something soft. Boyfriend at golden hour. Wind in your hair, gaze full of longing.”

“He can wear that light blue hoodie,” Sunghoon offered. “It's very boyfriendable”

“Oh my god, I’m not—” Soobin buried his face again, this time in the nearest pillow.

“We are styling you for your beach romance,” Yeonjun said proudly. “This is our Clueless montage. I will not be denied.”

“Just don’t let him wear that one shirt,” Beomgyu said. “You know. The cursed one.”

Soobin looked up. “What cursed shirt?”

“The minions one.”

“I like that shirt.”

“We know,” everyone said in unison.

And then—

A beat of silence.

Soft. Happy. The kind of pause that felt like a smile exhaled into the air, filling up all the little spaces between them. Outside, the hum of late-night traffic drifted past Taehyun’s apartment windows. Inside, the glow from the string lights made everything look golden, like this wasn’t just another weekend but the beginning of something else entirely.

The map on the table was still spread open. The dice lay scattered, untouched for once. And around the room—this warm, weird, chaotic room—sat seven boys who had started this campaign as just friends and had somehow become their own little universe.

Taehyun looked around, his gaze quiet but steady, a knowing softness in his eyes. “You know…” he said, voice low, like anything louder might scare the feeling away, “I think we’re gonna have a good time.”

He wasn’t talking about D&D anymore. And everyone knew it.

Because this wasn’t just a trip. It was them, getting to be part of something. Getting invited. Getting chosen.

It was walking into a party and not standing in the corner.

It was laughing too loud and being laughed with, not at.

It was the quiet victory of being seen—the kind that doesn’t need a trophy or a big speech, just a look across the couch and a shared bag of snacks and someone saying, “You’re coming too.”

Soobin hugged the pillow tighter to his chest. He didn’t say anything right away. Just let the feeling sink in—the one that made his chest ache in the nicest way. The one that said this was all real.

And in his head, looping like a secret, was the image of Y/N’s smile.

That look she gave him whenever she teased him.

He hadn’t even told her how he felt yet.

But he would.

God, he would.

And maybe, when he got there, and the sun was setting, and she was looking at him like that again—

Maybe he’d finally kiss her without a dog interrupting.

And if not?

Well.

At least he’d have his friends. His party. His chaos.

And a beach full of crabs, apparently.

Not bad, for a bunch of kids who used to watch from the sidelines.

Not bad at all.

prev | masterlist | next

profiles: d&d saturday mass group | bling bling losers

author's note: SURPRISE! updating twice this week! hope you guys like it and look foward to the next chapter! as always, let's chat, please tell me what do you guys think in the comments ( i do not think aquarius are dumb, i'm an aquarius moon and we are elite). ALSO what do you guys think it's gonna happen at this beach trip? hehe thank you so much again <3

taglist: @heejamas @mingyustar @wintereals @mimimiloomeelomi @wonderstrucktae @delirioastral @gomdoleemyson @i03jae @irishspringing @bunniwords @kirbrary @sirenla @saladgirl @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @uvyuri @imlonelydontsendhelp @haechology @sanriwoozzz @stormy1408 @soobinieswife @ijustwannareadstuff20 @soobskz @jkeydiary @imnotsureokay @nyanzzn @lostgirlysstuff @lilbrorufr @beomgyusluver@lveegsoi@pagesoobinie @catpjimin @t-102 @sh0dor1 @i-am-not-dal @bbeomgyucafe @damn-u-min-yoongi @https-yeonjun @booksxandxlace @kookssecret

[scribblesofagoonerr]

fishy go buh-bye! | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

summary: our favourite little one, buddy turned 4-years-old and all she wanted for her birthday was a goldfish—until monkey helped feed him a little too much.

double the trouble masterlist

“Mummy! I wan’ fishy! Ou’ don’ understand!” You stomped your foot hard, crossing your arms tightly. 

This was serious. 

You needed a fish. 

You had already used your best puppy-dog eyes, the ones that usually made Leah say yes, but this time, she was being very difficult.

“Bubba,” Leah sighed, rubbing her face, “Surely there’s something else you want for your birthday.”

“No!” You huffed, bouncing on your toes, “I wan’ fishy.”

“I know you do, but there has to be something else you’d like instead…” Leah trailed off, hoping that she could persuade you differently, “A fish can be a lot of work sometimes. How about some new toys instead?”

“No!” You said again, louder this time, “I need a fishy, Mummy!”

Leah raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms to, like she was copying you, “You need one, do you?”

“Uh huh!” You nodded so hard in agreement, “Monks’ got Tat’-Tot. I wan’ a fishy!”

Leah groaned in exasperation.

Beside you, Beth smirked, “Come on, Le. Buy her a fish. What’s the harm?”

That did it. Finally!

After days and days of asking–maybe even a whole year, because waiting was hard–Leah sighed and said the magic words, “Fine, Bubba. You can have a fish.”

You felt like it was the best day ever!

The pet shop was so big, with rows and rows of tanks full of fish swimming ‘round and ‘round. You pressed your face against the glass, eyes wide. 

“Remind me again why she wants a fish?” Jordan, who had joined in the trip to the pet shop, leaned over and whispered to Leah, confused about where the sudden need for a fish came from, “Out of all animals she could want, and she lands on… a fish.”

“I’m not sure. Maybe she watched Finding Nemo with Monkey?” Leah was clueless just the same as Jordan, watching you as you stared in awe at all the different types of fish, “Bubba, have you seen any that you like?”

“No, dat one too stripey,” You scrunched your little face up in disagreement, “An’ dat one is too big!”

“There’s plenty to choose from, little ‘un,” Jordan chuckled, crouching down the glass a few inches away from where you stood, “Hey, Buddy. What about this one?”

You were curious and toddled over to look at the one. You let out a gasp, “Wow. He perfect, Mama!” You exclaimed, and you were set on the tiny, shiny, golden fish that looked the happiest fish in the whole wide world, “I wan’ dat one!”

“Looks like we have a winner,” Leah said, making her way over to speak to one of the staff members to retrieve the fish.

Leah had already brought the tank and stuff that was needed, set up ready to go at home, all you had to do now was bring home your bestest fish.

You were so excited when you got home, you just watched him swim and swim. His name was Fishy. He was perfect.

But as you found out, your perfect fishy didn’t do much. No amazing tricks. Nothing. He just… swam around his tank.

“He don’ do much, Mummy. He’ borin’ now,” It had been less than a day before you grew tired of watching your new friend swim around in his tank.

“Well, Bubba… That’s just what fish do,” Leah explained gently.

Your fish swam ‘round and ‘round in his tank. Until one day, just a few sleeps later, Fishy stopped swimming. 

He wasn’t moving at all. 

You blinked at him, tilting your head, “Mummy? Fishy ‘topped swimming!”

Leah came over and took one look at the tank. Then she sighed real big and rubbed her face, “Oh, Monkey…”

You were confused. What did Monkey do?

Meanwhile, your favourite person, who was curled up on the sofa in Leah’s big hoodie that she had stolen, suddenly let out a gasp just like she’d figured something out, “I didn’t mean to kill it!”

Your mouth dropped open, you crossed your arms super tight while shaking your head in pure disappointment,  “Monks’, ou’ a murderer!"

“I know!” Monkey wailed, pulling the hoodie over her face, “I was just tryin’ to be nice. I thought he was hungry!”

Leah groaned, rubbing her temples like she had a headache, “Monkey…”

“I didn’t mean it!” Monkey sniffled, flopping back against the sofa like her whole world was over, “I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t mean it!”

You shook your head, beyond disappointed. Fishy was gone because Monkey gave him too much food? He wasn’t a piggy! He was a fishy! Everybody knew that fishies didn’t eat that much.

“There only one thing dat we hatfa do,” You announced, turning to Leah with your hands on your hips. It was scarily how identical you looked to her right now.

Leah sighed again, already looking tired, “What’s that, Bubba?”

“We hafta ‘ave a fun’ral,” You insisted, keeping your hands resting on your hips.

“Bubba…” Leah tried to speak and make you see reasoning, but you weren’t having any of it.

“It hafta happen, Mummy! We gots to say buh-bye properly!” You insisted, not backing down on your thoughts.

Leah huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “... Fine, we can have a funeral for your fish,” The sentence sounded so ludicrous, but she would do whatever she could to make you happy.

Even if that means hosting a funeral… for a fish.

“We hafta invite everyone, Mummy!” You declared promptly, already undergoing the plans of the funeral, “We hafta to invite Mama and Ez, and Nana, G’anddad, Uncle J, Gan’ma Berny, Auntie Wally, Auntie Kimmy, Auntie Beff, Auntie Vivi, Roo, Auntie Katie, Auntie Caitlin, Auntie Stephy, Auntie Jen, RaRa and Lessi!”

“Anyone else?” Elle joked, most amused by the situation.

“Bubba, we don’t need to invite everyone around. I think they might be busy,” Leah tried to gently explain, bracing herself for an impending meltdown from yours truly.

“Nooo!” You whined, continuing to scowl at her, “Dey hafta to come! Fishy was a good fishy. He need all da people!”

Monkey sniffled dramatically, “She’s right.”

“Oh for goodness' sakes,” Leah groaned, pulling out her phone, “Fine. I’ll drop everyone a text.”

To their credit, every single one of them came.

Well, apart from Jen, who was stuck in America since it was a bit of a short-notice moment to fly over to just attend a funeral… even if it was just for your fish.

“Hi, little one,” Lia crouched down to envelope you in a warm hug, “I’m very sorry to hear about your fish.”

Your bottom lip wobbled, “I miss him, Auntie Wally.”

“I know you do,” Lia sympathsised with you, “They're in a good place now.”

“Interesting, I’ve never been to a fish funeral before,” Beth cracked a joke, walking through the hallway of Leah’s house with Viv and Roo, the joke earning her a nudge from her partner, who had come to London to visit her girlfriend and daughter and instead, ended up being roped into attending a funeral… for your fish.

“We’re never getting Roo a fish,” Viv stated, firmly.

“This is all your fault,” Leah playfully glared at the blonde, pointing her finger accusingly at you, “Get a fish–you said. What’s the harm–you said. Now see what’s happened… This is why I was avoiding it.”

Beth held her hands up in mock surrender, “Did you put a good spread on at least?”

“Fish fingers sound good to me,” Kyra teased, walking through the front door with Steph, who rolled her eyes, “Too soon?”

“The poor kid is distraught right now, pest,” Steph told her.

“I thought it was quite funny,” Kyra grinned, pleased with herself, before wandering off to find Monkey, who was curled up on the sofa, feeling sorry for herself.

“Hey, munchkin,” Jacob was the next to come through the door, crouching down to your level and pulling you into his arms.

“Uncle J, Monks’ murdered fishy!” You put the blame straight on your least favourite person right now, “She a Coco Pop killer!”

Jacob stifled his laughter and kept his face straight, “Oh… I’m sure she didn’t mean it though, did she?”

“I didn’t!” Monkey wailed in the background, “I really didn’t mean it. I thought… I thought he was just a bit hungry!”

“See? She really didn’t mean it,” Jacob offered to try and solve the problem.

You weren’t so easily fooled, “Monks’ a murderer!”

Jordan and Erin were the next to come through the front door.

“Mama!” You instinctively ran straight to Jordan and threw your small arms around her.

“Oh, little ‘un,” Jordan cooed, kneeling down to catch you as you let out a heavy sob, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry about Fishy.”

“He was da bestest fishy, Mama,” You cried into her shoulder.

Jordan bit her bottom lip to stop the smile appearing on her face from the bizarreness of the situation, “I know, Buddy. He was very lucky to have you, wasn’t he?”

The backyard had never seen such a serious event. The sky was cloudy, like even the weather knew that something sad was happening today. 

You stood at the front, dressed in your bestest black dress—which was actually navy, but you weren’t hearing any of that. 

Your hands were clasped in front of you, standing before a shoebox-turned-coffin, which had been decorated with stickers—because Fishy would have wanted it to look nice.

Leah, Jordan, Erin, Elle, Monkey and you all sat nearby, along with the rest of the family, all gathered in a semi-circle. Leah had her arms crossed, watching with barely concealed amusement, while Jordan rested her hand gently on your shoulder, giving you the serious support you needed right now.

Monkey, still wrapped up in Leah’s hoodie like it was her own security blanket, sniffled dramatically beside you, “I… I didn’t mean to kill him,” She whispered, staring down at the shoebox.

“We know, Monks’,” You said gravely, patting her knee like she was the one who needed to be comforted, “It okay. He in da big pond now in da sky.”

“It’s a tragic loss. He was a good fish,” Steph nodded solemnly, arms crossed.

“Bestest fishy,” You corrected.

“Yeah, I’m sorry little ‘un,” Katie added, surprising everyone by sounding genuinely sad about the whole thing.

“Am I actually seeing this right now?” Beth choked back a laugh, whispering to Viv, “Is Katie actually getting emotional right now?”

“Apparently,” Viv whispered back, smirking, “I believe she has a soft spot for her nieces and their fish, I guess.”

You ignored them. This was serious business.

“We gathered ‘ere today,” You announced in your most-grown up voice, “To say buh-bye to Fishy.”

Monkey wiped at her eyes, “He was a good fish.”

“He was da bestest fish,” You peered up to look at her, correcting her again.

“Amazing fish,” Jordan agreed, nodding along.

“He was brave,” Erin added, playing along.

“A real fighter,” Kyra couldn’t miss the opportunity to pipe in, still grinning.

“Until Monks’ murdered him!” You grumbled, shaking your head in disappointment.

Monkey gasped, looking properly horrified, “I didn’t mean it!”

“Ou’ did!” You huffed, scowling at her with your hands resting on your hips, “Ou’ not meant to feed him so much!”

“Girls,” Leah groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Can we have just one day when you two aren’t fighting with one another? Bubba, Monks’ didn’t mean to do it on purpose.”

You weren’t so easily convinced in her words, as you continued to stand there, glaring at your big sister, “Ou’ a fishy killer, Monks’!”

“Buddy,” Leah tried again, shaking her head, “I know you’re upset, but your big sister is very sorry for killing your fish, aren’t you, Monkey?”

“Yes,” Monkey murmured, continuing to sniffle, “I really didn’t mean it.”

“I don’ believe ‘ou,” You were truly upset about your fishy, and you were going to be so easily forgiving about it either.

“Bloomin’ hell this is like an episode of Eastenders,” Beth joked, earning a few laughs from a few people.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you say a few words about your Fishy?” Amanda stepped forward to suggest, before an argument could break out, “What was your favourite thing about him?”

You tapped your chin, thinking real hard, "He was gold."

"That’s… a good quality," Lia said, pressing her lips together to keep from laughing.

"An’ he was little,” You added.

"Also true," Kim nodded.

"And he swimmed lots," You finished proudly.

"Yeah, up until he didn’t," Kyra muttered, earning a sharp elbow from Steph.

You shot Kyra a glare but chose to move on, "I hope ou’ like da big pond in da sky, Fishy," You bowed your head, squeezing your eyes shut for a long, dramatic pause. 

Monkey sniffled loudly, “I’m sorry, Buddy. Please forgive me…”

Leah clapped her hands together, “Alright, that’s enough grief for one day—”

“Wait!” You halted dramatically, sticking your hand up in the air, “We hafta put him in da ground now, Mummy!”

Leah blinked in disbelief, “Bubba, we’re not burying him in my garden.”

“But–” You tried to protest.

"We can flush him," Jordan offered gently.

You gasped in horror, “Mama! Dat so dis’pectful!"

"Buddy, fish like water. It’s like… sending him home,” Jordan explained to you in a way that you could understand.

You thought about this very hard before slowly nodding, "Okay. But I hafta do it."

And so, the whole family—every single one of them—gathered in the bathroom, packed in as tight as sardines while you stood on the step stool, holding Fishy in a tissue with the biggest pout ever.

"I’m sorry, Fishy,” Monkey sniffled dramatically, 

You nodded solemnly, "Buh-bye, Fishy."

Then, with one final plop, you let him go and pressed the flush.

The whole room was silent for a moment.

And then Monkey wailed like her whole world had ended, “HE’S GONE!"

Jordan sighed but reached down, scooping you up in her arms, “You okay, little ‘un?”

You wrapped your arms around her neck, burying your face in her shoulder, “No mo’ Fishy.”

Jordan rubbed your back, “I know, sweetheart. He was a very special fish.”

Leah groaned, rubbing her face, “Buddy, we are not getting another fish.”

You gasped just as loud as Monkey, “But Mummy!”

“No, Bubba. No more fish.”

You crossed your arms, huffing, as Leah walked away. Fine. Fine.

…Maybe next time, you could ask for a puppy.

© scribblesofagoonerr