#normal music... with words and shi

[tnsophiaayaonly]

QUAGMIRE - SEQUENCE.

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ The world outside is silent, suffocated under the weight of a storm. Rain slams against the windows like frantic hands begging to be let in, but the candlelight in the room is steady—unyielding, like the gaze of the man across from you.

Scaramouche sits at the head of the table, his chin resting on his palm, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. The dinner before you is untouched. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting here, but time lost meaning the moment you woke up in this unfamiliar place, your wrists sore and an eerie waltz playing softly from an unseen source.

Your heart pounds. You don't remember coming here. You don't remember agreeing to this.

But he looks so pleased.

"You’re trembling," he murmurs, tilting his head, violet eyes glowing like an abyss beneath candlelight. "Are you cold? Or is it me?"

You force yourself to speak. "Scaramouche… what is this?"

His lips curl into something unreadable. "A celebration, obviously." He gestures to the table, adorned with roses so deep a red they almost seem black in the dim lighting. "Valentine’s Day, isn’t it? You didn’t forget, did you?"

A chill crawls down your spine. You did forget. Or maybe… you were never meant to remember.

He stands, moving toward you with slow, deliberate steps. Your chair scrapes against the floor as you try to push back, but his gloved fingers catch your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His touch is featherlight—mocking in its gentleness.

"You’ve been so distant lately," he muses. "Running, hiding, lying. It’s exhausting, isn’t it? Don’t you see how much easier it is like this?"

His other hand finds yours, cool leather pressing against your skin. He tugs you up, pulling you flush against him. The music shifts—warped, like something wrong is hiding beneath the melody.

"Scaramouche, I—"

"Shh." He sways with you, guiding your body like a marionette in his arms. "Just dance with me."

Your breath catches. The way he holds you—so close, so desperate, so unrelenting—makes your pulse stutter in terror and something else you don’t want to name.

"You don’t have to love me," he whispers into your ear, his voice sickly sweet, "but you can’t leave me. You never could."

The music crescendos, drowning out the sound of your heart hammering against your ribs.

Outside, the rain rages on. But inside, trapped in his embrace, you realize you are never leaving.

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ SPY AU. SCARAMOUCHE/KUNIKUZUSHI

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ CW: MENTIONS OF MURDER, MURDER, BLOOD, KIDNAPPING, FORCING, SPYING, YANDERE TENDENCIES, HUNGER STRIKE ATTEMPT, USE OF CHAINS TO LOCK UP. SCARAMOUCHE HIMSELF IS A WARNING. CHOKING (NOT REALLY), FORCEFUL KISSING, CORPSES MENTIONED, DYING MENTIONED, DECEIVING/LYING. VALENTINE'S SPECIALLL!!

: ̗̀➛ I DON'T fw this shi irl, it's fictional only.

ANDD!! I already have part 2 almost finished :,)

I'm so happy that i'm still able to gain audience despite just STARTING! ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡

˚₊ · »-♡→ VALENTINE'S DAY.

You never should have trusted him.

The realization comes too late, sinking in as you sit at the candlelit table, hands trembling in your lap. The scent of roses is cloying, too thick, suffocating the air in this dimly lit dining room. Across from you, he sits—Scaramouche, the man who had been everything you wanted to believe in.

Charming. Witty. Someone who seemed so normal.

But normal men don’t smirk over the corpses of their lover’s family. Normal men don’t fake your death and steal you away, treating it like an act of devotion.

"Why?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. It wavers, betraying you, but you don’t care. "Why did you do this?"

Scaramouche leans back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass as if he were mulling over the answer. But the amusement in his violet eyes says he’s already known it all along.

"Would you believe me if I said it was for love?"

The words don’t register at first. Not really. Not until you see the way his fingers tighten around the delicate stem of the glass, his smirk deepening as if he can hear the way your heart is hammering against your ribs.

Love.

Love isn't supposed to feel like this.

Love isn't supposed to feel like drowning in the heavy scent of roses, like cold dread curling up your spine as the weight of his words presses against your throat.

Love isn’t supposed to leave you grasping for air, for reason, for anything that makes sense—

It starts with a dream.

A memory of warmth—sunlight filtering through lace curtains, laughter ringing in a ballroom, hands reaching toward yours in an effortless waltz. The dream is peaceful. Soft.

Until it isn’t.

The ballroom floor cracks beneath your feet. The laughter distorts, warping into something wrong. The hands that once held you now twist, grip tightening like iron shackles, pulling you into an abyss of suffocating violet light.

You wake with a gasp, your body jolting violently against the cold silk sheets beneath you.

The air is thick with the scent of roses.

Your vision is hazy, disoriented. For a moment, you think you’re still dreaming—trapped in that fractured nightmare of a world you once knew. But then you feel it—the weight around your wrist.

Cold. Unyielding.

A chain.

Panic slams into you like a tidal wave. You yank at it, metal rattling as you move, but the shackle doesn’t budge. It’s fastened to the headboard, locking you in place.

Your breathing turns shallow. Your skin is damp with sweat.

"Finally awake?"

The voice is smooth—almost amused.

You whip your head to the side, and there he is. Kunikuzushi.

No.

Not Kunikuzushi.

Not the man you thought you knew.

Scaramouche sits in a chair near the bed, legs crossed, watching you with dark violet eyes that gleam in the dim candlelight. He looks entirely at ease, like a predator who’s already won. Like he’s been waiting for this moment.

Like he’s been waiting for you.

You don’t need to ask what this is. You already know.

Your voice is barely there when you manage to whisper, "What did you do?"

His lips curl, and something about that smile makes your stomach churn.

"An unfortunate misunderstanding," he muses, resting his chin on his palm. "Or a fortunate one. Depends on how you look at it."

You don’t understand. Or maybe you do, but your mind refuses to accept it.

You remember the gunshots. The blood. The fire licking at the edges of your childhood home.

Your family—

Your breath hitches. "Where are they?"

His expression doesn’t change. "Gone."

The word is spoken so simply. So carelessly.

It crushes you like a blow to the ribs.

Gone.

The weight of it settles into your bones, pressing into your lungs like you might drown in the realization. Your hands shake as you clutch the silk sheets beneath you, as if grounding yourself to reality will make it less real.

It doesn’t.

Scaramouche watches you carefully, his gaze drinking in every flicker of emotion that crosses your face—shock, grief, horror. Acceptance.

"Why?" The question is barely more than a breath, fragile and cracking at the edges.

He exhales, long and slow, as if this conversation bores him. "You should be thanking me."

Thanking him.

Something inside you snaps.

"You murdered them!" The words rip from your throat like a scream, raw and full of something desperate. "You—You destroyed everything—"

His fingers are around your throat before you can finish.

The movement is fast, brutal. Your breath cuts off in an instant, the pressure of his grip not enough to kill but enough to remind you.

Remind you that you’re no longer someone with power. No longer someone who has a future of your own.

You are his.

"You don’t get to raise your voice at me," he murmurs, his grip tightening just slightly—just enough to make your pulse hammer against his palm.

Your eyes are wide, wild, heart slamming into your ribs like it’s trying to escape.

"Don’t look at me like that," he continues, tilting his head as if considering something. "I saved you. They were going to kill you too, you know. I could’ve let them."

He leans in, breath ghosting over your lips.

"But I didn’t."

His words coil around your lungs like a slow-moving poison.

He lets go, and you gasp, sucking in air as you clutch your throat.

"You're a monster," you whisper, voice hoarse.

He laughs.

It’s not cruel. Not mocking.

It’s genuine.

"I’ve been called worse," he muses, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his gloved fingers barely grazing your skin. "You’ll get used to me eventually."

The worst part?

Somewhere, deep down, you know he’s right.

════════════════════════════════════════════

˚₊ · »-♡→ SIX MONTHS AGO

Your life had always been the same. Dull, privileged, controlled.

As the child of one of the most powerful figures in the country, you were nothing more than a pawn, shuffled between luncheons, charity events, and security briefings. Every day felt like a rehearsed script, every conversation a careful dance of etiquette and restraint. You had everything—wealth, influence, the best education money could buy—but none of it felt like yours.

Your friends were chosen for you. Your future was already decided. Even the air you breathed felt monitored, sterilized.

So when you met Kunikuzushi, it felt like breathing fresh air for the first time.

He was different.

He wasn’t like the people in your father’s circle—those power-hungry aristocrats with hollow smiles and veiled threats. He didn’t treat you like a delicate ornament or a business investment. No, Kunikuzushi was sharp, quick-witted, and impossibly infuriating. He spoke in a way that felt like he was peeling you apart piece by piece, amused by what he found underneath. He had a cruel kind of charm, the sort that dared you to bite back.

And you did.

You called him out when he was being insufferable, rolled your eyes when he smirked at you like he had you all figured out. When he made some sarcastic remark, you fired back with one of your own. You laughed at him—not out of fear, not to impress him, but because you actually found him funny.

He should have hated it.

He told himself he did hate it.

But for the first time in his existence, someone had the audacity to treat him like he was real.

And that was his first mistake.

FIVE MONTHS AGO.

The mission was simple.

Get close to you. Earn your trust. Extract whatever classified intelligence you unknowingly carried—your father’s strategies, security loopholes, upcoming negotiations. He was to gather everything and then disappear like a ghost, leaving nothing behind.

You were just a means to an end. A fragile little thread in a tapestry that would soon be unraveled.

And yet, Kunikuzushi found himself lingering.

Instead of slipping into your life like a shadow, he watched. Watched the way you fidgeted with your jewelry when you were nervous, the way your lips pressed together when someone spoke over you at the dinner table. Watched the way you came alive when you thought no one was looking, twirling under chandeliers during ballroom rehearsals, humming to yourself when you wandered the palace gardens alone.

You were human in a way he couldn’t comprehend.

You were supposed to be just like the others—cold, mechanical, another product of privilege bred for power. But you weren’t. You were so alive, so painfully unaware of how different you were from the lifeless dolls around you.

And he hated it.

Hated the way his skin itched when you smiled at him. Hated that he memorized the way your eyes lit up when you talked about things that excited you. Hated the warmth in your voice when you said his name.

His fake name.

You didn’t know who he really was. You didn’t know what he had done, the people he had killed, the things he would do to you when the mission was complete.

So why—why did it feel so wrong when he imagined the moment he'd have to put a knife in your back?

THREE MONTHS AGO

He started deviating then.

It was subtle at first. Tiny, almost imperceptible cracks in his resolve.

The first time was when one of his contacts requested a private meeting in the west wing—an area of the estate you never entered, an area that was safe.

And yet, when Kunikuzushi saw you wandering too close, he didn’t hesitate.

"Not this way."

You blinked at him in surprise as he grabbed your wrist, his grip tight, his voice unusually firm.

"Why?" you asked, brows furrowing in that stubborn way of yours.

"Because I said so."

You could have argued. You should have argued. But something in his expression made you hesitate. You relented, letting him steer you away, unknowingly saving yourself from an encounter that would have shattered the fragile illusion between you.

It kept happening.

A threat here, a warning there. Every time you got too close to something dangerous, he was there to pull you back.

He told himself it was strategic. Keeping you in the dark meant keeping his cover intact.

But that didn’t explain why he shoved a knife between someone’s ribs when they spoke about hurting you in passing.

That didn’t explain why his chest burned with something he refused to name when he imagined what would happen if someone else carried out the kill order first.

That didn’t explain why, when he saw you laughing in the garden one afternoon, carefree and utterly oblivious to the fact that you were living on borrowed time—

—he felt something snap.

ONE MONTH AGO

The order came in.

Your father’s security measures were becoming too unpredictable. The operation needed to be expedited. Your family would be eliminated, and you—

You were to die with them.

"Understood?"

He should have said yes.

He should have played his role, cold and efficient, like he always had.

Instead, he hesitated. Just for a second.

Just long enough for the silence to be noticed.

"…Kunikuzushi?"

The name grated against him. It felt foreign, wrong, like a discarded skin that no longer fit.

"Understood," he said.

But when he looked at you that night, sitting across from him at the dinner table, unaware that you were meant to die—

The word tasted like a lie.

NIGHT

He should have let it happen.

Should have let the assassins breach the estate, should have let them do their job while he slipped away like he always did.

Instead, he made a choice.

The first body hit the floor before the alarms even sounded.

The second fell with a gurgled choke, blood pooling against the marble tiles.

It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t subtle. But it didn’t matter.

By the time the estate was up in flames, your family was gone. But not by his hand.

No.

He had been too late to stop their deaths.

But not too late to steal you away.

NOW

Scaramouche watches you as you sleep, chained to the bed, face still drawn with exhaustion from the sedatives he had forced into your system.

It’s ironic.

He was sent to eliminate you.

And yet here you are. Alive. Breathing. His.

He should feel satisfied. Should feel victorious.

But all he feels is a sharp, twisting ache in his chest.

He doesn’t understand it.

He doesn’t want to understand it.

All he knows is that he made a choice that night.

And he’d make it again.

════════════════════════════════════════════

The world outside is silent, drowned in the weight of the storm. Rain slams against the windows like frantic hands begging to be let in, but the candlelight in the room is steady—unyielding, like the gaze of the man across from you.

Scaramouche sits at the head of the table, legs crossed, his wine glass held loosely between his fingers. His presence is suffocating, as inescapable as the chain still wrapped around your wrist, the weight of it a cruel reminder of your reality.

You don’t know how much time has passed since he took you.

Days? Weeks?

It all blurs together, swallowed by the quiet, the isolation, him.

Your world has shrunk to this—his voice, his touch, the ghost of his fingers brushing against yours as he leads you from one room to another. You have no freedom, no control. But this—you can control this.

So you refuse.

You don’t eat.

The plate in front of you remains untouched, steam curling into the dim candlelight like a silent plea. The rich aroma of the meal does nothing to stir your hunger.

You ignore it. Ignore him.

His voice cuts through the silence, smooth and laced with something sharp.

"You're not eating."

You don’t look up.

"Are you sulking?"

You press your lips together, staring blankly at the table.

The air shifts. His fingers drum idly against the stem of his wine glass. You can feel his gaze, the weight of it pressing into your skin, but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

A long pause. Then—

"You’ll get sick if you don’t eat."

His voice is quieter now, threaded with something unreadable.

You swallow, your throat dry. That’s the point.

"Maybe I want to."

A sharp silence follows.

You don’t look at him, but you feel it—the way the air turns electric, heavy, dangerous.

Something inside him snaps.

The movement is sudden. Violent. The chair screeches against the floor as he yanks you forward, dragging you into his lap with an ease that steals the breath from your lungs. Your heart slams against your ribs as his hand grips your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

His eyes burn.

"You think I’d let you?"

His voice is low, dark, almost tender.

A shiver runs through you. His fingers tighten, thumb brushing the frantic pulse at your throat. You can’t move. Can’t breathe.

"You don’t get to die," he murmurs, lips brushing against your jaw as he tilts your head back.

Your breath stills.

"Not unless I say so."

The words should terrify you. And they do.

But beneath the fear, beneath the cold rush of panic and the burn of helplessness, there’s something else.

Something you don’t want to name.

Because the truth is…

You don’t know what terrifies you more—the way he wants you or how you’re starting to believe you belong to him.

════════════════════════════════════════════

The storm outside rages, a chorus of howling winds and relentless rain slamming against the windows like desperate hands clawing for escape. But within these walls, within this dimly lit room, the world is still—suffocated under the weight of candlelight and something far more terrifying.

Scaramouche sits at the head of the table, his chin resting lazily on his palm, watching you with a quiet intensity that coils around your lungs like a serpent. The flickering glow of the flames catches in his violet eyes, making them glimmer like fractured amethysts, deep and unfathomable.

The dinner before you is untouched. A feast laid out like an offering at an altar—wine as dark as blood, delicacies you once would have savored, but now, they feel like poisoned traps waiting to ensnare you.

And the roses.

Scattered across the table, their deep crimson petals so dark they appear black in the dim lighting. Their scent is overwhelming, cloying, like a funeral dressed as a love letter.

Your breath is shallow.

You don’t remember coming here.

You don’t remember agreeing to this.

But he looks so pleased.

"You’re trembling."

His voice is soft—mocking in its gentleness. He tilts his head, a gloved finger idly tapping against his wine glass.

"Are you cold? Or is it me?"

You force yourself to swallow, force your lips to part, to form something—anything.

"Scaramouche… what is this?"

His expression remains unreadable, but his lips curl ever so slightly.

"A celebration, obviously."

He gestures to the table, to the twisted display of devotion and control. The waltz playing in the background slows, as if the unseen melody itself is listening.

"Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?" His voice dips, sweet as poisoned honey. "You didn’t forget, did you?"

A chill crawls down your spine.

You did forget.

Or maybe… you were never meant to remember.

He stands, the motion slow, deliberate. Your muscles coil in anticipation, every instinct in you screaming to run, to push away, to do something. But your chair barely scrapes an inch before he’s there, before his fingers—delicate yet unyielding—catch your chin and tilt your face up to meet his gaze.

His touch is featherlight. Mocking in its tenderness.

"You’ve been so distant lately," he muses, violet eyes searching yours, dissecting you piece by piece. "Running, hiding, lying. It’s exhausting, isn’t it?"

Your heart slams against your ribs, panic creeping up your throat like vines.

"Scaramouche, I—"

"Shh."

His other hand finds yours, cool leather pressing against your skin.

He tugs. You stumble.

And suddenly, you’re in his arms.

The music shifts—warped, stretched thin, like something wrong is lurking beneath its melody. His grip on you is firm but not forceful, guiding you into a slow, deliberate waltz.

Left. Right. Spin.

Your breath catches. The way he holds you—so close, so desperate, so unrelenting—makes your pulse stutter in terror and something else you don’t want to name.

"Don’t you see how much easier it is like this?" he murmurs against your ear, voice threaded with something almost mournful. "No more fighting. No more running. Just you and me."

The waltz carries on.

You feel his hand settle at the small of your back, the other still cradling yours as he sways with you in perfect rhythm, guiding your movements as if you were a marionette in his grasp.

Your body obeys because it has no other choice.

"You don’t have to love me," he whispers, his breath a ghost against your skin, "but you can’t leave me. You never could."

The music crescendos.

The rain rages on outside.

But inside, in his embrace, you realize the truth.

You are never leaving.

Okay so this was so rushed, so forgive the sudden lines I added and like I was just tryna do this for valentines special hehehe... for my beloved SCARA. I'll do one with kaiser, luka and sunday too cause they're my favorites ♡

[ivoryratdoggerythethird]

can the heavens be an actual character in tgcf because holy shit it's gotta be in love with xie lian too 😭😭 i'm talking e-ming style

like "darling of the heavens" is RIGHT what the fuck did he even ascend for the third time??

spoilers ahead! but i love how for everyone else it's like suitably dramatic and fitting and like, obviously no one was really ready to ascend but it felt like a good time like the music swelled and the lighting dimmed and then boom here's your eternal reward noble hero

like yushi huang? striking and tragic but strangely beautiful end, a selfless sacrifice that touches hearts and had her gently lifted by the heavens to honor her unmatched bravery and grace. pei ming? a decorated general, living the fast life, wars won single-handedly and with the loyal aid of the shining blade he went on to shatter with his own hands.

even shi qingxuan, despite everything - the playful and graceful, haughtily noble action of a beautiful young lord, acknowledged but the heavens.

xie lian? the first one was pretty dramatic i'll admit, but in hindsight that was just xie lian being xie lian and his "body in abyss, heart in paradise"

like in reality my boy was just on his live laugh love journey his teacher sent him on EXPLICITLY tho avoid this exact scenario and xl went and casually ended up at the exact bridge where that exact ghost was and thought it'd be a simple normal-ghost job. it was not. his epic words doomed the rest of the narrative, what a fucking mess, mnq must have been tearing his hair out and crying blood

like even hua cheng went up with a bang and dropped back down like a girlboss but my man xie lian's second one was him in the throes of depression and trauma, and the third one was.

what was it even? how did he even do it, he was literally just collecting trash, my guy is such a babey and good boy the heavens just keep pulling him back up like "awww shucks, forget the war crimes, look at that little face!!!!"

like no wonder junwu never got over him this bitch kept popping up into his face every other tuesday by doing nothing

[claritys-silly-things]

It’s my birthday woah

Anyways hcs

- Soda and Johnny dyslexia real?

- (Modern) Soda texts how blitzø does in helluva boss and pony had to translate for Darry a lot

- (Modern-ish to modern) Soda blasts tf outta Bruno mars when the Curtis boys are cleaning, and honestly they vibe with it. Him and twobit are such big Bruno mars fans. Steve hates Bruno mars but brushes it off bc soda likes his music

- (Modern) Rip pony and Johnny you would’ve loved Conan Gray and Mitski

- (Modern) Cherry and Marcia like Sabrina, Olivia, TS, artists like that but also Billie eilish, Renee rapp, and Chappell roan, etc. Cherry and Marcia kiss each other.

- (Modern) Marcia also listens to Midwest emo and shi. Also normal emo music. Johnny aswell.

- (Modern) Ponyboy LOVES tv girl

- (Modern) Sometimes cherry is just in the mood to listen to the most hardcore music ever and you’ll look at her and think she’s vibing to something sweet and girly and she takes her headphones out to hear you talk and it’s just screaming

- (Modern) Cherry and pony actually just have the most random assortment of music in their playlists I’ve decided. They have so many liked songs.

- (Modern) ponyboy would cry if he lost an account to something like Pinterest or Spotify, or just anything he’s had for a long time.

- (Modern) Pony leaves his phone on dnd (do not disturb) constantly. He never got Darry’s texts and Darry was like “dawg wtf” and made pony have it so Darry and soda go through the dnd. Johnny also goes through.

- (Modern) Johnny will just give himself piercings galore and his parents practically never notice because he’s either never at the house or they don’t care enough to perceive their son

- (Modern) Pony and Johnny have matching insta bios. They’re tv girl lyrics.

- (Modern) Ponyboy actually puts effort into choosing and editing pictures he takes, especially if he’s posting them, and even more especially if it’s johnny he’s posting. Johnny will just choose the goofiest possible pictures he has of anyone, ESPECIALLY pony, and post them. He literally has a picture of pony delirious and sick flipping him off as his lock screen

- Twobit taught his sister swear words and every time she says one their mom just glares at twobit

- Pony and johnny have matching earrings on opposite ears

- (Modern) Darry only lets pony get ear lobe piercings, but pony wanted an eyebrow piercing and got johnny to do it and when Darry noticed (immediately, mind you) he was grounded for two weeks. He was able to keep it though bc darry was scared it would get infected or heal weird

These next few I’ve had for a while but they were in another list for some reason?? On accident???? Oops

- Pony and Johnny would LOVE mitski and Conan gray in modern au

- Darry is really good at dancing, and before everything happened with his parents would do dance classes on his free time (which he didn’t have a lot of)

- Dally is aromantic.

Okay that’s it the rest I came up with in the past week

- Pony will draw or paint or whatever on anything around him. Don’t leave him alone with art supplies because one moment he’s painting a picture and the next his hand is painted blue. (me)

- Pony will get marked as rude a lot for not continuing conversations but it’s just because he doesn’t realize he’s supposed to say something back and gets anxiety when he doesn’t know how to continue a conversation (me)

- (Some parts of this are modern) Pony and johnny are like attached to each other. If pony is at his desk reading or drawing or doing schoolwork or smth, Johnny will pull up a chair and either rest his head on his shoulder from behind or hug his shoulders from behind to watch. If Johnny is just chilling on his phone, pony will appear next to him and immediately watch over his shoulder and curl up to Johnny. Johnny’s sleeping at the curtis house that night? You better move to the spare room soda, pony’s gonna sprawl out on the bed and Johnnys right up next to him. Pony hovers a lot around Johnny. It’s an anxiety thing

- (Modern-ish bc reasons I can specify) Pony will sometimes just mess with people’s hair without meaning too. He’s used to being able to fidget with and braid Johnny’s or soda’s hair so when he’s with someone it’s like a habit. He was chilling and yapping with Cherry and Marcia once and just reached for the ends of Cherry’s hair and started braiding. When she asked he was like “oh mb” and she’s like “nah, you’re fine girl” and now they all just do each other’s hair sometimes

- putting this here it’s not a hc but it was GONNA BE until I FORGOT (I am now mad)

- There’s gotta be a reason pony doesn’t like green yall…

- (Modern) pony uses gacha sometimes just to like come up with character designs or if he’s bored, but keeps that shit HIDDEN. if anyone around him (besides maybe Johnny) saw he would NEVER hear the end of it

- Soda likes sweets a lot and has like adhd executive dysfunction which just results in lots of cavities bc it physically pains him to brush his teeth sometimes (so me besides the cavities)

- Two bit kleptomaniac real

[blooberry-bagel]

lil something

i wanted to try slowly writing again so here goes! + a happiest birthday to @suugarbabe , one of the greatest writers on this whole site 😁⭐

"is this for me?" + prefects' bathroom + present/gift

apart from schoolwork, there's nothing that you take more seriously than your rest. after all, the saying goes work hard, play hard. or in this case, look-after-yourself hard. usually, time with friends and those closest to you does the trick. but isolation to really focus on getting your mind back on track is the icing. whether that's spending your evening listening to music through your headphones, unwinding in front of the black lake, or taking extra long in the bath, you're virtually untouchable during Me Time.

your boyfriend knows the importance of this time all too well. sweet lorenzo has learned the hard way, often having hangout offers turned down in order for you to spend the night alone. and don't get me wrong - you spend plenty of time with your boyfriend. from library dates to snuggling in front of the slytherin common room fireplace, yall hang out a normal amount of time that any couple would. so it goes without saying that it took a while for enzo to figure out how to give you space. and yet, he also finds a way to wiggle himself in.

one shimmery evening by the lake, the two of you are sitting on a blanket in the early autumn sunset lighting.

you're hard at work on the history of magic paper due in a few days when you notice the sun dipping below the horizon, "enz we should pack up soon."

he glances from his parchment, eyes scanning the view, and hums in agreement before going back to work.

u gently breathe in and let out a soft sigh.

"anyway, i better get my bath running," you add, starting to close your books and stuffing them into your bag.

"wait. love, i have something for you. don't go yet," enzo butts in.

looking over to him, your boyfriend pulls out a little bag with the handles tied together by a ribbon.

you're surprised before remembering to respond, "is this for me?" eyes gleaming, you reach over for a hug.

embracing his arms around you, lorenzo rubs your back and smiles to himself at your flustered state.

"a lil something that can go towards your Me Time"

pecking his lips with a small kiss, you pry open a corner of the bag to peek in.

"i think the shop owner said it was a bomb bath?"

"a bath bomb?" you snicker.

"yes that," he shies.

now in the prefects' bathroom, your bath is drawn to the perfect temperature and the bath bomb has produced the prettiest swirls across the surface of the water.

you dip in, sitting with your head over the rim, relaxing into the steamy air and quiet peace.

"enjoying yourself?" enzo creeps up to the tub, placing a kiss on your cheek.

you hum and turn towards him, who is now sitting on the outside of the bath.

"very much so," you grin.

"thank you for letting me join your Me Time, love," returning the smile.

"don't get too comfortable, pretty boy. this is a one-time thing."

closing words: this came out so short despite how long it took to write😭i hope somebody enjoys it tho ... n a v happy birthday again to sab<33

dividers by @toastray 🤞

[the-moon-will-mourn]

now i haven't finished the dream thieves yet (i'm like,,, 7 chapters away from finishing) and i think this may contain spoilers???? but i'm not too sure yet. i'm basically gonna word vomit. i'm sorry for not using any quotes, i wish i could but i only have the ebook version and a very limited storage space on my phone where i can only have ~two books downloaded

like a normal person, i enjoy listening to video essays, see what creators want to explain to their audience and leave with a certain view, try to come to my own arguments about certain points in the videos, see if i can apply some points to other aspects of my life etc etc. (this was the type of shi that helped me with my eng lit essays rip i miss alevels) and like a normal british citizen i looked up stuff about classism in the uk. in the end, i found a video essay about classism in general and how the ultra rich try to mimic being poor to get away from their hard issues that comes with being rich (which, frankly, is probably a lot less compared to someone who is working class).

recently, i was talking to my friend about specifics in the book about certain characters and i remember we went onto the convo of making music playlists for the characters. they said "it's gonna be hard for adam [...] cuz his whole thing is about being unknowable" and it always struck me with how unknowable he truly is when reading his character because his character is intrinsically linked to his working class background. (context: i'm a middle class child of immigrants who built themselves in the uk)

it's very clear the kind of social commentary stiefvater wanted to make using adam's character with how isolating and alienating it can be coming from a working class background trying to assimilate yourself into a society of those protected and privileged enough to not have any problems with accessing opportunities. how class is a huge obstacle between interpersonal relationships and feeling safe enough to be vulnerable with your issues with being working class. how difference in class can cause one-sided shame because of the meritocratic society we're living in. how, no matter how much money you earn or how many connections you can make, your attachment to your working class identity can be enough reason to aim for something supernaturally larger than yourself.

it's evident that other characters overlook adam's social class because he's a "self-made man" (or smth) and mainly because he's their friend: adam. however, when we get a chapter in his pov, class is a driving factor in how he interacts and views everyone. we can see the privilege gansey and ronan have for being able to not even consider class as an intimidating aspect about themselves to a normal person, but it's everything to adam in the sense that he feels like his earned money doesn't give him access to a similar respect.

now that i truly think about it, it was a good idea for adam not to join them in monmouth manufacturing because it just feels like they're... mocking him in an indirect way? they have the ability to choose to live in a nice place and instead chose to live in a random, run-down building because it seemed aesthetic. adam was forced to live in a rundown trailer because that's all they could have afforded. i know gansey had good intentions for wanting adam to join them, but everything that he likes as an aesthetic (monmouth manufacturing, the run-down camaro, eating mint leaves instead of gum) can seem like he's flaunting the fact he can choose that lifestyle without any consequences.

back to the point of the meritocratic society (which we usually assume in books that take place in a similar world as our own) creating shame because of their class: the assumption that because someone has worked hard to earn what they have gives them a right to be proud. but this is the opposite for adam as he fights with the fact that he could have maybe be seen as even more equal to gansey if he had just been born with wealth.

we can frame it as, maybe, despite gansey's desire to appear working class, it only broadens the distance between him and adam. it only worsens adam's difficult relationship with his class shame despite probably wanting to be more relatable or even laid-back.

when reading the second book after his sacrifice, i was confused as to why adam was so un-adam-like. i mean, in the first book i didn't really understand him because of his huge insistance that his class makes him inherently inferior to everyone he surrounds himself with and i don't see class as an issue myself.

however, his sacrifice basically was watering the seed of ambition that was planted when he decided to aim for aglionby. it becamse clearer to me how much this opportunity to be superior, even if it's supernatural and terrifying, is important for him understanding in what he thinks he lacks. by those thoughts of what he lacks, he thought that this chance to be cabeswater's channel could be a way to compensate for his inferior social class. or something.

anyways, thank you for coming to my ted talk. this is not proofread, and my sister keeps nagging at me to shower. also i simp for gansey do not think this is me trying mischaracterising him i'm just trying to understand the theme of class in this series and having gansey as a figure to compare to is literally integral.

[redlikerozez]

Bring the World Back into Tune

Summary:

A spirited minor goddess unknowingly sings herself into a harrowing predicament, and is forced to choose between two wing-clipping fates. Clutched tightly in the cold, bony fingers of her would-be lover dangles a life of luxury within a gilded bird cage, as he promises obsidian opulence at the cost of only being able to fly in the eternal night of the Underworld. However, in the warm and familiar palm of her beloved older brother rests a beaded string of lovely pearls and a life in the sun. But she soon discovers this gift to be a thinly veiled shackle of filial devotion, realizing that even her brother would forsake her liberty to keep her safe. Torn between her cherished family and a love she never intended to requite, the goddess learns to take flight in spite of the three realms trying to chain her to the ground. Her song inadvertently sets the world into motion. A song to fix what's wrong Take what's broken, make it whole A song so beautiful It brings the world back into tune Back into time And all the flowers will bloom When you become my wife A Hades and Persephone BeefLeaf AU.

Tags: He Xuan/Shi Qingxuan, BeefLeaf, Hades/Persephone Au, Greek Mythology Inspired, kidnapping

Words: 6k

Author's Note:

Hahaha yes this is for all y’all Greek mythology and BeefLeaf/ShuangXuan fiends like myself.  And if you’re not familiar, this is also loosely inspired by (read: I definitely thieved a couple lines from the lyrics of) the musical Hadestown which has my absolute favorite portrayal of Hades and Persephone ever. If you are a fan of Greek mythos, especially Hades/Persephone or the tale of Orpheus and Euridyce, I highly recommend taking a listen to it! OK. Shameless plug of my Roman Empire musical over. (Seriously it’s a masterpiece, you could not be disappointed with it.) The title is derived from the song “Come Home With Me” from Hadestown. For BeefLeaf Week 2025 Free Day! (this is technically posted on day 2, but I’m trying to have all of the chapters posted by the end of the week) Find a handy AU Guide here.

Her elder brother always said she was too naïve for her own good, but she would like to think she was not entirely as foolish and helpless as he made her out to be.

However, given her current predicament, she was starting to doubt even that. Sobbing like a wretched thing in the corner of some stony, dark cell in the Underworld— a helpless prisoner and doomed to torture and execution.

As she retraced her actions throughout the day, it was quite plain where she had gone wrong. If she ever saw her brother again, he would surely do more than scold her for being so stupid.

It had started off as any normal day did for the young and fair maiden. She had only frolicked through gardens and meadows for merely a few hours before getting bored and finally relinquishing to doing her work for the day. She preferred to spend her mornings playing in the cool springs and flowery meadows with the satyrs and naiads and nymphs. They’d sing ballads and dance around as she threw flower petals into the gentle wind or taught them how to weave laurels and daisy chains.

Everyone she encountered was enchanted with her breezy, easy-going and charming personality. She found out quickly that she could coax even the most solitary of gods to come out of their shell and gradually wore down the aloof defenses of Goddess of the Harvest and her stern ox— only to find a gentle, caring person beneath the surface. 

The two had adjacent domains, so the relationship felt only natural to cultivate. The Harvest Goddess worked in the fields growing crops while she played in the meadows and convinced flowers to sprout wherever she went. So, whenever the mood struck her or whenever her brother was busy, she went to visit and keep the goddess and the nymphs in her charge company in the fields. 

Today, her brother had sent her off to the Goddess of the Harvest to work because he had received a strange complaint in the southern seas that he needed to take care of. Her brother was quite protective and didn’t want her to get up to any trouble while he was preoccupied with his duties as the God of the Ocean.

However, like the wind, she couldn’t be still for too long. 

It was hard labor, sowing seeds, plowing, and encouraging the crops to take root in the soil, and she wasn’t all that used to working. She was much more interested in growing flowers than actually growing things useful for mortals to eat— but if her brother asked her to help out, then it needed to be done. She didn’t want her brother to be disappointed with her if she became a burden for the goddess because of her lack of enthusiasm for fieldwork. 

Still, she couldn’t help sprinkling the occasional wildflower around the field. It was just prettier that way, she thought. And shouldn’t everything be as pretty as her?

Her brother kept her to a sheltered lifestyle and shielded her from any gossip the other gods spread about her practically useless domain. The Goddess of Flowers. At least the Earth loved her, for not many mortals knew or cared to worship the Goddess of Flowers. 

How pitiful! How frivolous! How unnecessary! How vain! She was practically a nymph in the eyes of the other gods in Heaven. If it weren’t for her overbearing older brother, she wouldn’t even be respected as a minor goddess.

She suspected most gods were only nice to her because she was charming and beautiful, or maybe it was because of her powerful brother and his lofty reputation. There were few, if any, that she could feel actually wanted to be her friend. 

The Harvest Goddess was nice, but their relationship was more of a mentor/mentee or even a babysitter, the way her brother saw it. And then there was the Messenger of the Gods. He was also so nice and considerate, but she didn’t often need to send messages to the other gods, so they had not had enough chances to interact. Her brother did his best to keep her affairs out of Heaven’s court, so she mostly stayed on Earth, away from the mortals, in the fields and meadows doing as she pleased. The nymphs and naiads were beautiful and loved to play with her, but they often liked to keep to their own kind. She was ostracized whenever she started to get too friendly with them. 

And so, the maiden walked the Earth alone for the most part. She tried to not let it bother her too much. But sometimes she got in her own head. 

Maybe everyone thought she was too useless and coddled to actually achieve anything difficult on her own. Perhaps they secretly thought she was a vain, airheaded fool. She wanted to prove her worth to the other gods, and to make her brother proud. The Ocean God was harsh and stern to others, but his beautiful sister was the only person in his cold heart that he cared about with any significance. His incessant favoritism and leniency towards her was especially obvious to the other gods, but no one dared say anything about it.

She’d never been made to work in the fields before, but looking at all she accomplished after half a day's work, she was pleased. Her brother only asked her to help in order to keep her busy while he was away. No one ever expected much of her, anyway. She had a beautiful face and was only really talented at growing flowers, so it was only natural people’s expectations were quite low. But just maybe even this meager attempt at working in the field was enough merit for praise, she mused. 

The Goddess of the Harvest was even-tempered, so she would probably just be grateful for the help and maybe reward her with some fruit or even invite her to supper if she was feeling generous. 

Her elder brother would probably ruffle her hair and compliment her since when he found out about how hard she had worked. And if she returned to the field and worked even harder later, maybe she could get out of some work tomorrow if he was still busy! 

She smiled giddily as she pranced off after offering one last glance at the field.

She had gotten quite dirty from all the labor. Her fingernails and bare feet were caked with dried mud and dirt. Her dress needed soaking to save it from staining, too. A quick trip to the spring before going back to work shouldn’t take too long. The Harvest Goddess was even taking a break for lunch, so it was the perfect time.

After she was finished scrubbing the disgusting mud from her toes, scraping out the hard to reach dirt from underneath her delicate nails, she found herself drifting off lazily in the comfortable spring waters.

She awoke much later in the still waters. The Sun had dried the gown. Looking at the position of the Sun in the sky, it seemed she only had a few more hours of daylight left.  Realizing she had overslept, she dressed herself to go back to the field. Perhaps it was a bit unwise to have fallen asleep when she had work to do. She needed to hurry back.

Before she could make her way out of the grove, her gaze suddenly fell upon a particularly beautiful patch of flowers. Bright yellow narcissus flowers dotted around her feet. She just had to stop and take a look. She smiled at the vibrant color of the petals and began gathering up the most auspicious into her freshly clean and sun-warmed dress to take back to the Harvest Goddess as recompense for taking a long time, all while humming a jaunty tune to herself.

Just as she was about to finish gathering a bushel, something glinted in the corner of her eyes as the clouds moved the Sun rays shining through the grove. She moved her gaze to see what had caught her eye, immediately abandoning the flowers she had just gathered at her feet.

She couldn’t deny her curiosity as she searched the grove in the direction of the faint glimmer. After all, who wouldn’t be curious? Shiny things were charming and beautiful, just like her. Anyone surely would have gone to get a closer look.

And when she finally caught sight of the source of the glimmering, it was nothing like she had ever seen before. A gasp fell from her soft lips.

Beneath a shady fern sat a blood-red crystalline carnation. The petals were each individual crystals that looked hand-carved and shaped to resemble a carnation in full bloom. The stem of the flower looked like it was made out of emerald or maybe jade and it was standing in the dirt, almost as if it was alive and growing. 

She raced over to it, as if hypnotized by the thing. Crouching beside the flower, she stared at it intensely for a long moment, completely speechless in awe. She looked around, suddenly feeling like someone or something was watching her, but she could not feel any ill intent. Nothing seemed amiss in the forest and nothing caught her eyes other than the flower before her. 

Her throat burned and begged for her to continue the song she started earlier, so she resumed a familiar song absentmindedly.

Somehow, it felt like this flower was made for her, or at least left for her to take. Long, delicate fingers grasped the stem and pulled up.

“Do you like it, fair songbird?”

Her song choked to an abrupt stop and she jumped out of her skin as she heard the unfamiliar voice call her from behind. She nearly dropped the crystal flower in her shock. Whirling around in fright, her gaze landed upon a tall figure obscured by a shadow of a willow tree he was partially hiding behind.

“Y-yes, it’s beautiful... Carnations are my favorite.”

“Indeed?” the deep voice hummed back. “A happy coincidence.”

“Is it yours, then?”

The figure nodded. “This one created it, but mine, it surely is not,” he answered immediately. “It is yours. A gift.”

She gaped, mouth hanging open stupidly. “For me? But, I-I couldn’t! It is too beautiful!”

She was thoroughly unused to wealth and other luxuries the other gods flaunted up in Heaven. Like the Harvest Goddess, she tried to live a modest life without expensive treasures. Who needed rare jewels and precious metals when she could create beautiful things already?

She started to walk over towards the voice, but the stranger instantly retreated further behind the willow boughs and completely concealed himself in the shadows. She stopped in her tracks, clutching the flower to her heart, slightly disturbed at this strange encounter and his even stranger reaction.

“Accept it,” his voice implored from behind the tree. It didn’t feel like a suggestion. “It is yours. A fitting gift for the beautiful songbird.”

“Might this grateful one thank the kind stranger to his face? Surely a songbird does not frighten the stranger. Songbirds are not known to bite, haha!” she called lightly, but he didn’t move from out behind the tree, so she switched tactics. “To freely give such an amazing treasure… This one would like to at least know the name of the generous stranger if she cannot gaze upon his face.”

The figure emerged ever so slightly from behind the tree only when she backed away. She leaned closer to try to get a glance at his features, but the shadows seemed to cling to his face.

“This one’s name is not important.”

“If the stranger refuses to let this humble one come closer, how will she offer him a gift as well?”

He breathed, “A gift? For me? Is the songbird planning to sing this one a song?”

She giggled and her eyes lit up in mirth. “That was not what I had in mind, but if the stranger has any requests, this one would gladly sing for him another time,” she chirped happily, beaming a warm smile his way. “I like to make flowers, too. What is the stranger’s favorite? I wish to give you a whole field in gratitude!”

“The songbird needn’t repay this one,” he dismissed heavily.

“Just one little flower?” she begged, offering a pathetic and pleading expression his way. “It is the least this humble one could do for such a generous gift.”

“…If the songbird insists. One flower would be more than enough.”

“Then one flower! The kind stranger’s favorite. Will he tell me?”

The figure thought for a long moment, considering his choice with great effort. The willow boughs gently stirred with the wind. She was able to make out the golden color of his eyes through the branches.

What a majestic color, she thought, even more intrigued.

“Belladonna,” the stranger finally settled on.

Her face scrunched up in confusion and she spoke before she could think of something more polite to say, “But isn’t that—”

“Beautiful, poisonous? Lovely, deadly?” the stranger mused aloud. “Dangerous, only because of its beautiful face. To those who would try to consume it, they will surely find its kiss bites back.” 

Uncomfortable laughter spilled from her throat. Thoroughly off-put by his grim ramblings, she tried to save face and keep smiling. Wanting to make this a quick exchange in case he was dangerous, she encouraged the small purple flower to sprout from her palm.

“A belladonna for the stranger,” she said, offering out her hands.

“This one fears he may have frightened the songbird with his poor taste in flora. It is a strange choice, this one is aware, but he likes the color,” he lamented, hoping to ease her worries. “But he thanks you for your returned kindness.”

A pale and bony hand emerged from the shadows draped in a thick black outer robe that swished and cascaded down like a wave of ink in between the branches of the willow. Intricate gold embroidery rippled along the hems and the fabric itself seemed to shimmer and change pattern in the dappled light of the grove. The stranger may have grim taste in flowers, but his fashion sense was elegant, expensive, and of the highest quality.

In retrospect, there were many things that should have given sufficient warning, but alas…

She cupped the lone flower gently into his bony hands. The outstretched limb retracted eagerly into the shadows after receiving its prize. He gaped at the tiny purple flower in as much awe as the girl had shown for her own gift. Taking another look at the crystal flower, she thought her gift to him was hardly payment for the grand and surely expensive thing, but the stranger seemed satisfied enough. 

“Well, thank you, again, kind stranger,” she started, “but this one fears she has too long neglected her work in the field for the day. I must return. My older brother will be angry that I dallied for this long already. If we meet again, this one will be sure to heed any song request.” 

The line about her brother was not entirely true, but she didn’t exactly feel safe with the stranger cloaked in shadows who had a strange inclination towards poisonous flowers. She thought it best to mention a male figure in her life that would be expecting her return.

“You surprise me. A delicate songbird like you seems unfit for field labor,” he said, shaking his head softly. “This one could take you somewhere you would never have to work again, somewhere where you can admire a hundred crystal flowers and wear the finest of silks. You would want for nothing.”

Something about his voice… So inviting and deep. She really felt like a songbird wanting to fly down and eat seeds out of a kind stranger’s hand. 

She quickly shook her head, dashing the idea out of her head. “Well, this one appreciates the stranger’s offer, but she should not be gone too long. My brother—”

The stranger finally stepped out from behind the tree, parting the willow branches in his wake. Her breath caught in her throat as the forest around them went dead silent. 

“Your brother should have done a better job at hiding you from me.” 

The shadows receded from his form and she finally gazed upon his features. A stern, deathly pale face with eyes bright and gold as the Sun stared down at her, intense and hungry. Two golden earrings dangled from his lobes and an obsidian colored diadem hung proudly across his sharp forehead. His hair was long and oily black, ebbing down his angular shoulders like a dark wave.

She shivered, recognizing the figure instantly, and took a wobbly step back involuntarily, but he caught her by the wrist with a death grip.

Why is the God of the Dead here?!

And all at once, her spirit nearly left her body at the realization of what he meant to do. Her brother had told her never to get too close to this god or else she would surely perish, though he would never say the reason why.

Looking down at the bony hand currently wrapped around her wrist, her whole body started shaking violently. She felt like her whole skeleton was rattling inside her body. Collapsing to the ground in a wretched heap as her legs gave out from fear, she dropped the crystal flower on the forest floor, shattering it to pieces.

“Come, little songbird,” he said grimly. She didn’t move from the ground, frozen stiff with terror. He yanked her up harshly by the wrist and growled, “You will come with me.”

She looked up wildly at his expressionless face, failing to hold back tears. “Vile snake! You can’t just…! Trickster…! I…! M-My brother will never forgive you for this! He will look for me! And when I do not return, he will scour the three realms—”

“Your brother cannot not save you, my dear songbird, for it is he that has doomed you.”

He seized her wrist forcefully with his newly clawed hand and swished the sleeves of his other arm. The ground beneath their feet cracked and split open, swallowing them whole. Her last terrified glances were to the shattered crystal shards on the ground and then lastly to the brilliant Sun shining down from the Heavens.

᠃ 𖡼᠂ 𖥧⚘ 𓅪 ⚘𖥧᠂ 𖡼᠃

“The trail leads west,” the God of the Hunt explained, spotting something in the thick black of the wood at night. He crouched down with his long crescent-shaped silver bow in hand. 

They moved away from a discarded pile of yellow flowers only to find a similarly puzzling scene not far away. Something in pieces lay discarded on the ground next to a peculiarly shifted mound of dirt. 

“This is where it ends,” he reported.

The Goddess of the Harvest squinted down from atop her steed, struggling to see in the dim light of the grove. There was something glinting in the moonlight, but she couldn’t make out what it was.

“What does it mean?” she asked, biting her lip.

“There are two sets of prints. One is from the girl, but it seems she encountered someone. The footsteps are larger, longer, heavier. A man, probably,” he said, trying to read the situation from the clues left behind. “But… it just… ends? And a broken crystal… Why leave it behind? There are not any footsteps leading away from the area that I can see.”

“What do you mean? There is nothing else?”

He shook his head. “It’s like she just… vanished. They both did.”

The Goddess of Harvest put a hand to her chin, deeply troubled at the revelation.

She had noticed out of her peripheral vision that the girl had wandered off towards the wood shortly after midday. 

It wasn’t so strange that she didn’t return. The girl was a bit airheaded, to be honest. She only knew how to look forward, constantly ready for whenever the wind wanted to take her for the day. The Harvest Goddess found it endearing that she followed her heart so unabashedly. Sometimes, she would leave a message about wherever she wandered off too. Today, however, she seemed to have forgotten.

When the Sun set and she still hadn’t returned for supper or left any message indicating where she would go instead, the goddess grew worried. The girl was left in her care until her brother returned, after all. If anything happened to her, it would not be pleasant to deal with the consequences. 

She had sent a quick message to the girl early into the evening, touching her forehead to her temple briefly. She waited for a while but received no response. After trying several more times and still nothing, she sighed.

Still not cause for panic, but definitely cause for at least concern. 

With it getting dark outside, there was no way she could follow any sort of visible trail. 

A hunter… she thought to herself. I could ask a favor from the Moon…  

Bringing her fingers to her temple again, she began her message.

“God of the Hunt, would you be available to assist this Goddess of the Harvest?” she called into her mind. “It is probably nothing, but this one would greatly appreciate your help.”

Though he was incidentally surprised that the notoriously aloof Harvest Goddess had reached out in the first place, he didn’t really have anything better to do that night. So he threw his large silver bow on his back and raced over to assist after affixing the Moon’s path in the night sky.

The goddess sat atop her ox when he reached the hut where she resided. Her gaze affixed to the forest nearby. Some of the nymphs in her charge had come out to see all the commotion and he quickly averted his gaze from the sumptuous figures currently ogling him.

“What is the matter that this god of the hunt can assist with?” he asked stiffly.

“The sister of the Ocean God has wandered off,” the Goddess of Harvest explained. “I saw her walk into these woods around midday and she has yet to return. Like I said earlier, it is probably nothing, but I do worry. She has failed to respond to any messages I have sent.”

The God of the Hunt nodded gravely, understanding her predicament. 

No one dared upset the notoriously ill-tempered God of the Ocean, the girl’s elder brother. He tolerated no criticism directed at himself, and especially not towards his darling younger sister, a vibrant and breezy maiden. If he found out something had happened to his beloved sister while in the care of the goddess, she would most assuredly be subject to his bottomless wrath.

“The late hour gives me cause for concern. I cannot see well in the light of the Moon and neither can my steed,” she further explained. “You have no reason to help, but this Harvest Goddess humbly petitions you for your services, esteemed God of the Hunt.”

“Let me see if I can pick up a trail,” he replied. “It would be best for all three realms if the Water Tyrant is not in a foul mood.”

She nodded grimly back at him and offered a word of thanks.

It didn’t take long for the God of the Hunt to pick up on a trail. Her footfalls were unmistakable. The small, feather-light prints beginning at the edge of the fields told him that a maiden with a strangely spirited gait had run off in the direction of the woods hours ago.

Now that the trail had stopped, both gods looked to each other, unsure of their next steps.

“Let me ask around. Surely someone has seen the girl,” the God of the Hunt offered. The Goddess of the Harvest looked worried for a moment, but he could guess what she was thinking. “Fear not, I will not bring it up to the Water Tyrant just yet.” 

This seemed to ease her worries.

He brought two fingers to his temple and sent messages to his two most trusted friends.

The first friend he petitioned was the Sun God. The God of the Sun was his complete opposite, preferring a large golden saber as a weapon rather than bow, and his domain was of course the Sun, rather than the Moon. They fought bitterly and almost constantly, but he proved to be a trustworthy ally time and time again. And as the Sun God, maybe he had seen something since the incident seemed to take place during the daytime.

The other friend he petitioned for help was the Messenger of the Gods and God of Luck and Travel. Truthfully, he had many more aspects than just these two, it was too hard to keep track. But the important thing was that he was constantly running all over the three realms, so maybe he had seen some trace of the girl.

Within a breath, both friends appeared by his side in the grove.

“I have not seen the God of the Ocean’s sister,” the Messenger of the Gods explained, “but this one would be happy to help search for her. How can I be of assistance?”

“Why do you have to drag me into everything you do?” the God of the Sun asked, somehow already annoyed as he rolled his eyes.

The God of the Hunt gave a brief overview of the situation to his friends and they each agreed to split up and search for the girl. 

“I fear this second person might have taken her somewhere,” the Goddess of the Harvest said. “We must find the girl before her brother finds out she is missing.”

Because of his speed, the Messenger of the Gods offered to thoroughly search the areas surrounding the woods while the God of the Sun offered to take a skyward approach to look for the girl. The Goddess of the Harvest and the God of the Hunt would continue their search through the forest.

The Goddess of the Harvest repeatedly kept trying to call upon the girl, but it felt like maybe her messages weren’t even reaching. Something was blocking the connection. She’d never encountered anything like it, but she could sort of guess what that meant. She was so far away that even the communication array couldn't reach.

All four gods searched well into the morning, the God of the Sun having to leave briefly to kickstart the sunrise, yet no results or even new clues to her whereabouts were ascertained. 

Back at the goddess’s hut, each of them looked woefully at each other.

“There is nothing?” the Goddess of Harvest asked.

“Nothing,” the Messenger of the Gods replied, his normally bright eyes appearing sullen. 

“Same here,” the God of the Sun confirmed.

“Then she is lost,” the God of the Hunt said simply. “We do not know for certain that she was taken, but it does seem the most plausible explanation.”

“…I must inform the God of the Ocean that she is missing,” the goddess said grimly. 

᠃ 𖡼᠂ 𖥧⚘ 𓅪 ⚘𖥧᠂ 𖡼᠃

When the news that his sister was missing finally graced his ears, the whole Heavens and Earth shook with the wrath of the Ocean God. Thunder rumbled over the restless seas as the waves grew tall as mountains and violent whirlpools threatened the normally calm oceans. Rain pounded ashore as the god wailed out in agony and all-consuming rage. 

With the waters in such turmoil, the mortals were thoroughly terrified. Something was surely wrong in the Heavens and they prayed to gods and prepared burnt offerings to help appease their wrath.

This had to be rectified immediately. The girl needed to be found for the sake of the Earth, if not for the poor girl’s sake alone. With her brother in such a state, surely disaster would descend upon the mortal realm if she was not found post-haste.

He had stormed back to Heaven, abandoning his mission in the southern seas after hearing the news. Upon his return, he rounded up as many of the gods as he could summon together before the King of Heaven to plead for aid.

“I demand a search party be arranged! I want every single available god to begin searching at once!” boomed the Ocean God. “I will not rest until every single corner of the three realms is scoured until she is found.”

“Heaven does not have the numbers to conduct a search so thorough—” the Goddess of Wisdom tried to intervene reasonably to her clearly spiraling friend.

“I do not care if I have to do it myself. I will search every rock, every cave, every mountain, if I have to! I want my sister found!” he barked over her. “She is a sheltered, gullible, and innocent thing. This one fears she will not last long in the vile depravity of the other realms. If she is not in my domain or the Goddess of the Harvest’s domain and she is not in the Heavens, then we must send out every god to—”

“I am telling you, Heaven does not have the resources, Earthshaker,” the goddess retorted firmly, placing a hand on his trembling shoulder. 

A sultry sweet voice rang out from across the hall. “I have lovers all across the realms that I could convince to help look for her,” offered the God of Love, the Ocean God’s only other close friend besides the Goddess of Wisdom. “Maybe someone took her for their new wife. She is a peerless beauty, if I recall. It is only natural that things like this happen to beautiful maidens alone in the woods.”

The Ocean God felt nauseous at the thought of someone taking his sister for a wife. His knees nearly buckled under the dread. If someone touched her… He would throw the vile scum into Charybdis and then jump in after if it were true. 

The King of Heaven cleared his throat calmly and the entire hall went silent.

“God of the Hunt, you were the first to arrive at the scene of her disappearance. Was there anything left at the location that would provide any clues to her current whereabouts?” the King of Heaven asked, trying to lead the conversation in a more productive direction.

“There were two different sets of tracks, one was the girl’s and the other from an unknown male. The only other shred of evidence at the scene was a pile of flowers a ways away and the remnants of some shattered crystal where the tracks stopped. But, the tracks… They just vanished without a trace,” the God of the Hunt chimed in. “There was no direction. Only a pile of disturbed Earth.”

“Crystal?” demanded the Ocean God. “What do you mean, shattered crystal?”

“There was a shattered crystal on the ground,” the Goddess of Harvest supplied. “Perhaps a sculpture of some sort. The shards resembled a flower.”

All the gods in the palace suddenly felt the ground rumble underfoot as the Ocean God’s face turned lobster red, lip quivering with rage.

“Of course it was him! That despicable devil! If he so much as lays a disgusting, corpse-rotten hand on—”

Several hairs of the gods in the palace began to rise as the static charge in the air increased.

“Enough,” the King of Heaven and God of Lightning interjected firmly. The rumbling settled at his command. “Please explain. Does this have some meaning to you?”

“The God of the Dead left it as a sign for me,” he spat bitterly. “It must be him. No one else would dare do something so especially heinous.”

Not many people knew, but the God of the Dead was also the God of Wealth, of all the minerals and precious gems of the earth— despite the Ocean God’s relentless attempts to absorb that domain. It made more sense for it to fall under his purview, in Ocean God’s mind at least. Many sailors offered him large sums of money and other precious treasures for safe travels on their ships. What did the dead need with wealth once they crossed the River Styx, anyway? The title should have been given to him, not the God of the Dead.

The Ocean God growled a frustrated noise and said, “I suspect he has taken her into his domain since we cannot find a trace of her or contact her over the array.“

“Does he mean to start a war?” asked the eager God of War, cracking his knuckles at the thought. “This War God has unfinished business to be settled in the Underworld.”

The God of War needed to find a special person and bring them back. Sometimes, he went down the shore of the River Styx to look for the banished war god, now Stygian Ferryman, but his frequent visits were only in vain. The God of Death and he frequently clashed at the shore. Despite his persistence, the War God would inevitably be chased back to Heaven, always empty handed.

“The God of the Dead knows I would sooner raze the entire Underworld to the ground than have my sister subjected to eternal torment in his infernal clutches,” the Ocean God said grimly. “We must act at once! If he has taken her, then—”

“Heaven cannot act against the Underworld without sufficient evidence, and especially not for the sake of one lost girl,” the King of Heaven reminded the impulsive and ill-tempered Ocean God. “We must investigate further to confirm your suspicions and then take measures to ensure her swift return to your side. Heaven will not go to war with the God of the Dead unless absolutely necessary.”

The God of War looked noticeably disappointed.

“This Messenger offers up his services to investigate if the girl has indeed been taken to the Underworld,” a humble voice spoke up. “I am a familiar face. It would not raise suspicion to send me.”

The King of Heaven considered this for a moment. The Messenger of the Gods was right, it wouldn’t raise suspicion. The Messenger of the Gods frequented the Underworld when helping mortals reach the River Styx in hope for crossing. And he did seem to be quite friendly with the crimson-clad God of Death, another illustrious and frankly dangerous resident of the Underworld. Some would say he was even more influential than the normally-reclusive God-King of the Dead.

“This King accepts your services and prays this will appease the God of the Ocean for the time being,” the King of Heaven declared. “You may lead your own search with as many gods as required in the Earthly Realm, but the Underworld will be left to the God of Travel.”

The Ocean God hesitantly accepted this ruling. There was nothing to be done once the King of Heaven made a decree.

“Then it is decided,” the King concluded with a calm smile.

“I will find your sister if she has indeed been taken to the Underworld,” the Messenger of the Gods promised.

But he wasn’t listening to the messenger and instead turned to address the Goddess of the Harvest.

“This Ocean God left my sister in your care. Is this hospitality that you have shown my sister the same as you would treat any guest, or are you just particularly incompetent at looking after a single girl? Perhaps I should have only asked you to watch over an olive tree. You would do a much better job of taking care of it than my sister,” he spat coldly, pointing at her dramatically. “It is your fault she is missing. This God of the Ocean hereby withholds the waters of the Heavens and Earth for the use of the harvest until she is returned to me.”

All the gods in the palace broke out in gasps and hushed whispers at this curse. Without water, surely all the harvest for all the Earth would fail. He meant to start a drought, leave the Earth to famine! Mortals would starve if she wasn’t found quickly. Surely the King of Heaven wouldn’t allow this ridiculous and extreme punishment! If mortal lives were put in danger from something so serious as famine and drought, the King of Heaven must take action to ensure the worship of the gods continues. 

The gods all looked to the Ocean God and then the Goddess of the Harvest, jumping back and forth between the two. The Harvest Goddess looked calmly at the God of the Ocean and nodded her head slightly, not giving any emotion away on her face.

The God of the Ocean, angry that he didn’t cause a stronger reaction from the goddess, stormed out of the palace despite many calling for him to come back and reconsider. His mind had already begun formulating a plan to begin searching the mortal realm in vain. 

He knew in his heart that she was not anywhere on the Earth, but that she was down below in that wretched, sunless necropolis. It was a place so thoroughly unfit for his sister who loved to bask in the sunlight and surround herself with life, plants and flowers of all kinds. The God of the Dead was cruel, indeed, for spiriting his precious sister away to such a place where nothing could grow.

He cursed himself, too, for not being more strict with her.

Usually, he was ever-vigilant of her comings and goings. With someone as beautiful and hopelessly naïve as his sister, he made absolutely sure both gods and mortals alike knew that she was very much not for the taking and he vehemently denied any suitors that wanted to court her. He saw it fit that she would remain a maiden under his careful and sheltered protection until the end of her days. 

A delicate flower such as her was not to be plucked or pruned. 

But he had let his normally watchful gaze drift elsewhere after leaving her in the charge of the Goddess of the Harvest and her ox. But now it was obvious that no one could be trusted with looking after her except him. 

He would make sure no one would ever try anything like this again when she was finally found, even if he had to chain her to the bottom of the deepest trench in the ocean.

~~~

Cross posted on AO3.

All writing and art posted by this blog is original work by ©RedLikeRozez. Do not reupload, translate without permission, copy, or claim as your own work.

[your-divine-ribs]

Reading Festival (Dad Van)

Words: 2.2k

You take the kids to watch their dad perform at Reading Festival ✨

Dad Van Masterlist Main Masterlist

🎸 You try to keep life as normal as possible for the children growing up which is easier said than done considering their dad's career.

🎸 Since you and Van started a family he's cut down on touring considerably, finally finding that work-life balance he struggled with during his early twenties.

🎸 Touring still takes him away from home for weeks at a time though, and especially over the busy summer festival season.

🎸 Van FaceTimes every day whilst he's away, but even with seeing his face on screen and hearing his voice, Grace and Leo are missing their dad terribly by the time Reading festival rolls around.

🎸 "So... I've been thinking about driving down and coming to watch you at Reading this weekend," you tell Van over the phone. He's excited but when you add "with the kids" his enthusiasm wavers.

🎸 "You know how much I'd love that babe, but I'm not so sure. I just don't think Reading festival's the place for little 'uns really."

🎸 "Come on Van," you reason with him. "Loads of families go to festivals, it's no big deal. You know how much they love music, even little Leo. And Grace won't stop watching the TRNSMT video on YouTube over and over again. She's been begging me to take her to see you on stage, and Reading's the last show of the summer for you."

🎸 Van's quiet for a moment whilst he mulls it over. He's so protective of the kids. It borders on over-protective at times, and his next comment proves this. "I'm still not sure love, it's so bloody loud... and all those people... there's thousands... they'd get crushed!"

🎸 "We're not gonna be at barrier or in the mosh pits silly!" You laugh. "We'll be side of stage, nice and safe, and I'll get the kids some of those big ear defenders. It'll be fine, stop fussing!"

🎸 So there you are on a glorious summer's day in late August, making your way through the crowds with your very excited kids. Grace is decked out in proper festival style with bright pink wellies, flowers in her hair and glitter on her face and Leo's wearing a little bucket hat and shades. Both are wearing Catfish t-shirts specially customised with 'Daddy's Tour Security' on the back and you just know Van's going to be delighted.

🎸 He bounds over immediately when he sees you all entering the artists' area and there are hugs all around. "There they are, my little fan club! My two favourite girls and my main man!" Leo gives him a little fist bump.

🎸 "Daddy I can't wait to see you on stage... you're like the biggest superstar in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD!" Grace stretches out her tiny arms to demonstrate.

🎸 "Oh I don't know about that Gracie," Van chuckles. "There's much bigger stars here, Arctic Monkeys are headlining tonight and they're massive! I saw Alex Turner earlier... he was standing right next to me and I almost lost my shi......"

🎸 Van cuts off abruptly as you glare pointedly at him, quickly rephrasing his sentence. "Uhhh... I nearly lost my cool, that's it... cool!"

🎸 Leo reaches over from your arms, plucking off his sunglasses and placing them on Van's face. "Daddy cool, Daddy cool!" He giggles, clapping his hands.

🎸 Van's hyper as he takes you all on a tour of the artists' area back stage, and you try not to appear starstruck as you get introduced to some of your favourite bands.

🎸 "I'm guessing I don't need to tell you who these guys are!" Van says as you all enter the hospitality tent and you feel your heart thumping in excitement as you come face to face with Eli, Rob, Josh and Ryan. "This is my missus Y/N, she's got your records on all the time, reckon she's a bigger fan than Catfish!"

🎸 You get a hug from all the Inhaler boys, your cheeks flaming scarlet as Grace loudly announces "Mummy, isn't that the man that you've been looking at pictures of on your phone?" whilst pointing straight at Eli.

🎸 Josh takes a shine to the kids, producing a pink cowboy hat with sequin trim which he places carefully on Grace's head. "Don't tell Eli I've given you that, it's his but I think it looks much better on you!"

🎸 Grace is over the moon with her new hat. "I'm never taking it off... ever! Not even when I go to bed!"

🎸 Van pronounces her the Queen of Reading festival and Rob and Ryan devise some silly coronation ceremony to 'crown' her. She's delighted with all the attention.

🎸 "Yer not gonna trade me in for a younger model, are ya?" Van sniggers as you step away from the Inhaler boys in search of some lunch. "I don't think it's me you need to worry about!" You laugh as you realise Grace isn't moving away with you and you turn around to see her tugging on Josh's jacket, not wanting to leave him.

🎸 Van has a meltdown when he spots Alex Turner again across the other side of the hospitality tent. "It's mad ain't it? He's just standing there eating chicken like a normal person!"

🎸 "He is a normal person!" You laugh, but Van's having none of it. "He's a genius! He bloody wrote Cornerstone!" You love the way he still gets starstruck when he comes face to face with one of his idols despite his own level of fame. His goofy 'uncool-ness' is one of the most endearing things about him.

🎸 Van's nervous about getting hassled by fans and would rather stay in the artist's area until Catfish's set but Grace begs her dad to come and watch Inhaler who are due to play in fifteen minutes. "Daddy you've got to come, you're way taller than mummy and I want to go on your shoulders.... I'll have a much better view... PLEASE!"

🎸 You're wary that a tantrum might be brewing but luckily Van relents when Larry turns up in a golf buggy to transport you all over to the main stage. "Thought we could travel in style!" He grins.

🎸 Van's in awe. "Ahh mate where did ya get that from? Bet ya nicked it off security didn't ya? What a legend!"

🎸 The kids immediately burst into cries of "Uncle Larry you're the best!" which is their usual response to seeing him. You all climb on to the hijacked buggy and you have to close your eyes most of the way as Larry swerves through the crowds, almost taking out a group of festival goers with his reckless driving. Only Larry could make travelling in a golf buggy a risky venture.

🎸 The Inhaler boys put on an amazing show and you're having the absolute best time dancing and laughing with your family. Leo is up on your shoulders and Grace is perched on Van's and you and your daughter are screaming out the lyrics at the tops of your lungs.

🎸 "Hold on a minute," Van shouts over the music, pretending to look dismayed. "How come I never hear you singing my music like that Gracie?"

🎸 Grace shakes her head, giggling. "Because your music's full of naughty words and mummy would tell me off if she heard me singing them!"

🎸 By the time the band are ready to go on stage everyone's excitement has reached monumental levels, especially Van who's so full of energy he looks like he's going to pop if he doesn't get out there soon. You've missed seeing him performing, before the kids came along you were always side of stage for shows.

🎸 You make sure the kids' ear defenders are in place just in time for Helter Skelter to blare out and it's a good job as the music's so loud you can feel the bass thrumming through you. Bob, Bondy and Benji give the kids high fives as they walk past and Van gives everyone a big hug and a kiss.

🎸 The crowd erupt into deafening screams, whistles and cheers as the lads emerge on to stage and your heart swells with pride. Even though they've not quite made it to the headline slot yet you know they'll make it one day. You recall watching them play the BBC Introducing Stage back in 2013 when you and Van had just started dating. Now there's tens of thousands of people out there all eager to see them play.

🎸 Leo's squirming around in your arms chanting "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" You have to hold on to him tight or you know he'll be making a break for it and toddling on to stage. Luckily Larry is there next to you to help distract him.

🎸 Grace is having the time of her life, shouting out the lyrics and playing air guitar. She's obviously been watching Van's performances closely as she's got his stage movements down perfectly.

🎸 The boys are playing a blinding set but you can't help worry that Van might lose his focus as he glances over at you regularly throughout. He only messes up the lyrics once during Hourglass but the fans are there to fill in for him and he beams over at you with a look of pure happiness. Hearing the fans singing his lyrics so passionately gets him every time.

🎸 You're a little overcome with emotion yourself, a stray tear escaping which Grace doesn't miss. "Why are you crying mummy, I thought you loved this song?" She throws her arms around your waist, hugging you tightly.

🎸 "That's why I'm crying sweetie," you tell her, stooping down to plant a kiss on her head. "Me and your dad wrote the lyrics together when he was touring a lot and I was missing him. It just reminds me of those days."

🎸 All in all the lads pull off a pretty seamless performance, dropping an atmospheric transition from Glasgow to Rango just as the sun starts to dip below the horizon. The fans are euphoric, the band haven't played Glasgow outside of Scotland in forever.

🎸 By the time the opening bars to Cocoon ring out Leo's fast asleep in his buggy but Grace is still going strong. "Forget it if they talk!" She cries out with gusto and you're thankful for the clean radio edit of her favourite song.

🎸 You and Van had argued many a time about whether Grace should be allowed to swear when singing his songs, Van's stance being that it would show her the importance of only using bad language at appropriate times as she grew up. You weren't happy with his controversial suggestion though. "Van... she's only five... no way!"

🎸 "Thank you Reading, we are Catfish and the Bottlemen, it's been an absolute pleasure!" Van shouts out his farewell line and you're expecting him to turn and walk off stage with the rest of the band but he lingers there, huge grin on his face as he looks over at you.

🎸 "She's probably gonna kill me for saying this but there's a few very special people here to watch the show tonight, Y/N, Grace and Leo!" You stand there in shock, frozen to the spot. This is unprecedented. You look out across the sea of faces in the crowd who are all cheering and going crazy, craning their necks to catch sight of the three people who Van dedicated the band's most recent album to.

🎸 You shrink into the shadows, overcome with embarrassment. Van's right... you are gonna kill him!

🎸 Before you even know what's happening Grace is slipping out from her spot between you and Larry and running on to the stage, arms held out wide as she barrels towards her dad who scoops her up into his arms.

🎸 The collective "AWWWWW!" from the crowd is deafening. A group of girls at the barrier are in floods of tears, recording the touching moment on their phones. Van looks fit to burst with pride as your eyes lock and you think you've just fallen in love with him a little more. Maybe you can forgive him after all.

🎸 Unfortunately Van's momentary lapse in concentration gives Grace the opportunity to grab hold of the microphone. Most kids would probably be overwhelmed at being on stage in front of such a mammoth audience but not your daughter who's inherited an over-confident and wilful streak a mile wide from her dad.

🎸 "Fuck it if they talk!" She croons into the mic, her note-perfect angelic voice ringing out across the stunned crowd. Van's jaw goes slack in shock as he snatches the mic out of her hands and quickly scuttles off stage with her in tow. The fans are going absolutely wild. They didn't even scream this loud when the band first emerged.

🎸 "Shit... am so sorry love, I wasn't expecting that to happen!" He blurts, looking at you sheepishly. Grace is grinning like a Cheshire Cat and the rest of the band are bent over double in fits of laughter. You note Bondy giving your daughter a surreptitious thumbs up.

🎸 It's quite obvious that Van thinks you'll be incensed but you actually think it's hilarious now the shock's fading away. You still manage to glare daggers at him for a few moments just to make him sweat before you break into laughter.

🎸 The next day your daughter's stage debut has gone viral and has practically overshadowed the band's phenomenal performance. It's possible that Catfish's already huge fanbase might have doubled overnight.

🎸 Van's overjoyed. "What did I tell ya love? I always said she had star quality. Takes after her dad ya know!"

[dearweirdme]

https://x.com/mhereonlyforbts/status/1814575317496783188?s=46&t=NoNSkUCz0AjpyK3SPEWIXA

This would be a weird thing to say if you were in a long term relationship, like jikookers believe, right? The whole vibe of the album, about wanting to find your person, also seems kind of weird if you think he's been in a relationship for years? Not to mention how Face very much seemed like a break up album of sorts. I wonder how jikookers genuinely interpret these albums. We can't really make assumptions with Tae and JK because they didn't write the music for their albums, so the songs are going to be less personal by default. But Jimin's been very involved in his solo work and I don't think he's shied away from the fact that the songs are personal to him? I'm sure jikookers were dying to make their music about each other, but I don't even see that much from them. And it's probably because they know it wouldn't be beneficial to them to insert Jungkook into Jimin's solo work. I guess they may just assume that his songs aren't /that/ personal, I don't know. I feel like their music allows them to talk about personal feelings as explicitly as possible in a way they normally can't discuss with armys. Not every single song is guaranteed to be autobiographical but it's just interesting that these are the songs he chose to create

Hi anon!

If you take Jm's words about his albums for truth.. it's most definitely that those are personal to him. His words about Who are basically that thát song is the feeling he most wanted to convey right? And Who is about not having found love yet, but waiting for that moment.. and wanting that. Nowhere does anything that has been said by Jm fit the idea of Jm and Jk being together. Neither for that matter does it fit Jm and Daeun being together during the recodring of his albums and this promo footage btw.

Jm and Namjoon clearly recognize the feeling of having been single. Jm was single when he recorded his albums, he was single when he recorded this MiniMoni album exchange. Everything he talked about in regards to Jk, points to them being friends. It literally does not get much clearer I think.

Jkkrs probably take the Jk mentions to mean something.. but the context in which Jm mentions Jk is not that of romance, but absolutely that of them being close friends.

[lime-ether]

Do you have any other headcanon for the beatiful dead people group?

1. The whole group supports each other, and even if someone ends up in the hospital, they will come and just throw supportive words And not only.

Almost everyone in the group doesn't like Ivy's house, because it's... Too lonely and empty, Anyone who is there during the day may not feel comfortable there...

Every two to three weeks they all meet together and can spend time either visiting someone from the group, or going for a walk somewhere

2. Ali, if he identifies unpleasant people or if he wants to hide, does not panic and simply takes on the appearance of someone they know

Perhaps they listen to jazz music in their abandoned house , And perhaps they have tea parties with Catri

3. Dravolo maybe if Ivy gave them her threads, used them as whips , It’s also possible that this is a member of the group who either called or came to wrestling lessons (from the same Ivy, why not)

Even though they are older than the Catri (???) (IT SEEMED) But with them they can behave as they want. They are the ones who introduced the group to Sam, and support this humble ghost

4. Catri probably has a closet full of horror franchise movies or merch.

Perhaps they find Topics for conversation with Shi, And they can often frown when little Den does tricks.

She asked To prevent friends from clapping firecrackers near her

5. Jirlshi When she goes out somewhere, she puts on clothes that cover her back and similar areas of the body where her organs are visible, so that any garbage does not get there.

Often spends time with Ivy because she knows how to Travel through portals and semblances

Although sometimes she is extremely responsible, sometimes she can also create chaos (such as prank or painting someone’s face with markers

She is ready to do a 48 hour viewing of old horror cartoon films, and this is just the warm-up

6. Ivy......... She Really ready to sacrifice everything she can.

Likes to fall asleep cuddled. She didn’t accept Sam into the group from the first day, but Wants to know more about him

When Ali, Dravolo, and Catri are around her, she behaves more responsibly (To take care of them as the eldest in case of any danger) And together with Shi She can behave absolutely chaotically.

7. Den Able to irritate and touch everyone with his tinyness

Unfortunately, he falls victim to Ivy's creativity and she makes him tiny, stylish suits.

Often sits on everyone's heads (for example, Ali Dravolo and Ivy)

He treats Dravolo like an older sibling.

8. Sam is new, so sometimes he gets lost when the guys offer something.

Ali sometimes blurts out next to him that he likes Brook , And sam understands everything

Finds it interesting that he's a ghost , And sometimes may not hold objects in your hands (aka he is transparent)

Sometimes he politely asks Ivy to make him more clothes, and she doesn't mind.

9. Fey doesn’t come to this group often, but she visits these guys and brings all sorts of baked goods from home

He thinks Ivy's friends are kind as long as Ivy says so...

Finds it normal that Ali fell in love with someone and generally supports the guys from the group to the fullest.

[calumhoodgoss]

gosh that essay hit the nail on the head. I think you just put into words exactly what went wrong with the marketing for 1d back in the day (and to some extent 5sos but it was much easier to stay away from that side of things for them). and looking back after the year we’ve had it’s easy to see that damage was done. and while it’s impossible to know the what-ifs (how could it have been better? how could we enforce regulations to ensure this job is survivable?) hindsight really does show you all the ugliness that was so normalised back then. and gosh sometimes we need to talk about these things and use the information we have to question it, as fans we have the ability to notice where our faves are unhappy and use our critical thinking to decide not to support industries that exploit them or buy into their stories for us. and I think that’s a really good side of blogs like yours—like it’s mostly lighthearted but the hard conversations can be had and not shied away from and we really need that.

also touches on the ethics of being an australian fan too imo, like just statistically we’re way more likely to run into someone who knew them growing up and get hold of information that’s NOT publicly available. and should that happen, how much do we talk about with the fandom? it’s such a mess though cause it’s reminding me of the one time this (kinda) happened and all I got from it was even more proof of how this whole thing—them being sold as people we had a chance with—hurt some real women in their lives. and it’s different when it’s someone tangible and real in your community than just a picture on the internet. like our generation and this phenomenon has seen multiple women driven out of the music industry, and our faves go through so much trauma—I rattle on but truly every serious conversation or any analysis in this fandom comes back to this for me. idk I just hope those of us who have that curiosity can leverage our parasocialness and use it to take down some corporations, every working class girl’s dream

(ik that was fast and I did skimread, twice, but you’re so spot on)

thank youuuuu

tbh i dont think they'll ever make it truly surviveable like a normal job. it relies so much on media and technology and those fields are ever-changing, thus their social norms are almost permanently in a state of infancy in one way or another - first it was news reporters camping outside houses then paparazzi then social media and now im calling ai is gonna be the next privacy invader.

but im with you on hoping for a better future for them!! sorry this was in my drafts and ove completely lost my train of thought now, but i am with you still

[chaoticxbeast]

Twin flames at the ice rink.

It was getting colder and colder these days. Raphael wore a big red jacket, boots, and pants to fit in with the crowd, and even though the chill made him a bit drowsy, he loved this time of year. Today, some of his buds had invited him to a local ice rink to hang out with other friends from the wrestling team.

Raphael had never been to an ice rink before and had never played hockey, but he loved the energy there. He grinned at his friends and greeted some new people with a big smile, exchanging a few words. A few of them shied away. He didn’t mind. He knew some of them were just faking interest, wanting to be on his good side to avoid getting obliterated in a game or bullied. That was fine.

He knew how it was—he could sense the fear and fakeness, but he liked being the popular jock. He looked out for his buds like he looked out for his brothers.

None of them had truly impressed him, not when it came to bravery or skill. But Raph liked to be liked. He was happy, just taking in this new life, learning, experiencing, and enjoying being a “normal” kid.

They were at a bustling local ice rink downtown. There was music, and the place buzzed with groups of teenagers lacing up skates, huddling with teammates, or practicing drills. A small side area held a shop with hockey gear and snacks, adding to the sense of community. Some kids had hot cocoa, and he even saw some of the dorky theater kids, with Mikey’s green face among them. He looked happy, goofing around and taking selfies with his friends. Suddenly, Raph didn’t feel so cold anymore. This was a place for friendships and memories.

The air was cool and smelled faintly of ice and leather from the hockey gear, while the sound of skates cutting into the ice mingled with laughter, shouts, and the clatter of pucks hitting sticks. Raph looked curiously at the skaters, realizing there was no way he’d be able to keep up with them. He’d probably fall on his ass out there.

Then he saw him—a force of nature, a teenage menace on skates. The guy’s helmet was covered in vibrant, graffiti-like designs with streaks of neon blue, electric green, and bold red. His gloves had splashes of color across the knuckles, while his shin guards were tagged with slick, angular patterns. Even his skates had hints of bright paint along the sides, catching the light as they cut through the ice.

Raphael watched as other players began to pull back, sending each other anxious looks. They knew they were done for, and it made Raph grin. He knew that feeling of power and dominance.

The player was a whirlwind on the ice, tearing through practice with raw, barely-contained energy. He moved with fierce, almost reckless speed, barreling past teammates who struggled to keep up. His eyes were wild, alight with a fierce intensity that bordered on intimidating, and each movement was fueled by an insatiable drive to dominate the rink.

When he controlled the puck, he gripped it fiercely, weaving through mock defenses with aggression, barreling into any teammate who dared challenge him and sending them flat on their face.

His fakes and cuts were sharp and brutal, even making the goalie flinch as he launched each shot into the net with near-violent precision. During scrimmages, he didn’t just play hard—he took over, stealing the puck with aggressive checks and hard hits that left teammates off-balance and scrambling.

Raph grimaced at the sight of blood on the ice, but he grinned, crossing his arms and nodding in acknowledgment of the player’s skill. This guy was good.

When the player smashed some poor kid into the glass right in front of him, Raph could see his insane grin and the wildness in his eyes. They were the same. One soul, one heart. It was like everyone else faded out and disappeared.

As the defeated opponent slid down to the ice, Raph watched as the guy skated away, taking off his helmet and waving to friends. “Yeah, Casey!” they called. “Slay!”

“Casey, huh...”

"Clarity" by Zedd blared through the speakers. Raph hadn’t even liked this song before, but now the beat was so rich and thick that it felt like it could carry him, almost like a force lifting him up. If our love’s insanity, why are you my clarity?

They even had a song now. All he could hope was that Casey wanted to be friends.

[rigelmejo]

Chinese listening experiment 242 hours

Interesting stuff I'm noticing:

I think what I'm listening to SOUNDS slower now, which must mean I made some progress and improved a bit. Since it feels slower, I catch each word now, in stuff like the audiobook for Twilight. Stuff like Narnia sounds a little slow to me now.

I am noticing more unknown words again, which means listening FEELS harder again. It's that roller coaster. I think what's going on, is I've now picked up enough words, that the words I don't know are sticking out to me and bothering me more. Now that everything sounds slower, it is more obvious when I don't know a word.

I tend to think conciously more - like guess a word conciously, or try to think of the english translation - when stuff sounds slower to me. So I think it's also starting to feel "harder" because listening to something I now have more time to conciously think about what the translations might be. Instead of just imagining the scene as I hear it. I also have more time to pay attention to phrasing and grammar conciously, which I think delays my actual immediate-understanding of what's said.

Listening to Narnia ALMOST sounds like listening to english. Then I hear a word I don't know or don't fully know, and it sticks out A LOT. It feels like tutu dawang felt a couple weeks ago. Except the voices are more normal, less exagerated.

Twilight is a much easier audiobook to listen to for a long time than HP lol. No exagerated cartoony voices, and the music and sound effects are the same vibe as the movies (which to me is quite chill - lots of instrumental piano). The voices are all pretty ordinary teen/adult voices, clearly spoken, and Bella's voice is a nice medium-low voice. And her voice is a bit soft, which is good practice for me - as a lot of audiobook narrators I'd heard so far were clear crisp spoken men with medium pitch voices. I think Twilight may also be written more straightforwardly? In that it has been quite easy to follow the plot partly listening, and recognize the scenes I'm listening to quickly. It really is easy to listen to. I know less words in this audiobook than an english one, but it's the closest to "like listening to something in english" because it is quite easy to listen to the parts I understand, and for the parts I don't understand my mind fills in the blanks with the story plot I remember.

Pronunciation: I tried to watch Day of Becoming You cdrama, and struggled a bit with parsing what the 2 leads said. Words I know REALLY well I could recognize, but there would be whole chunks I didn't make out the words they said. It could be because the drama is one I've never seen, it could be that the brain can "guess" words you hear better the more prior input you've had (so words I have heard more WILL be easier to parse in audio I find muffled), it could be I'm just not used to those actor's voices. I found the parents and the manager's voices fairly easy to parse in comparison, and Xiao Haiyang from Justice in the Dark is a doctor in this show! He was probably the easiest person to understand the words he said. All that said, I could follow the plot just fine - its a slice of life drama at the end of the day, most of the situations are clear from context, and I could hear a lot of the most important words. But it was really frustrating, every time I could guess they probably said some common words... yet I couldn't actually hear what they said...

So I tried to watch Hikaru No Go (Qi Hun) cdrama adaptation, with no subs, since I've watched that 2 times before. To boost morale lol. And??? Shi Guang is still one of the harder voices in the show to parse - he doesnt really say initials or finals clearly (at least to my ears?). Chu Ying is much easier to parse what he says. But I still found Shi Guang easier to parse the words of than either of the leads in Day of Becoming You. I found all of Hikaru No Go easier to parse the words in - I could watch and look away for moments, and still follow what they were saying. It would be a good rewatch - and good practice.

I'm a bit stuck on how to improve my parsing of different peoples voices/accents? I am sure part of it is, listening to people who arent doing clear crisp audiobook voices - like maybe chinese variety shows? Watching with subs might help, since I could immediately check which word I'm hearing. But then on the other hand, I think needing to parse the words with NO help (no subs) will make my brain practice understanding more. I am unsure what will help most...

I need to learn discussion type words, conceptual type words. Part of me thinks these words will just be some of the last I'll pick up. I do have a plan though: Lazy Chinese's beginner, intermediate, and advanced videos where she has debates. Those should be good practice, with visuals. And more Learn Mandarin in Mandarin with Huimin podcast maybe.

I'll be honest, learner podcasts are the things I like the least. They sound so slow to me, the words I don't know irritate me the most in those situations since I know so many of the Other words, and the topics are so boring to me... So I keep avoiding them. So i keep understanding how people talk in those kinds of discussions sharing opinions, the least. -.-;

[gauravinsights]

The Raw Wisdom of Kevin Gates: Unpacking Inspirational Quotes from a Street Philosopher

In the heart of Louisiana, amidst hardship, hustle, and hip-hop, emerged a voice both gritty and profound — Kevin Gates. Known for his dark realism and unfiltered lyrics, Gates has carved a unique niche for himself in the music industry. But what truly sets him apart isn’t just his musical prowess — it’s his words. Beyond the beats and rhymes lies a deep well of inspiration, shaped by pain, growth, and raw life experiences. Kevin Gates has shared countless quotes that transcend music, touching on self-respect, responsibility, and the enduring power of perseverance. These quotes offer more than catchy lines; they are blueprints for resilience and survival.

 Kevin Gates: More Than a Rapper

Kevin Gates is often celebrated for his authenticity. He speaks with a kind of honesty that’s almost jarring — real, rough around the edges, but always powerful. His life journey, marred by struggles with poverty, incarceration, and personal transformation, is evident in his words. That’s what makes his quotes so meaningful.

Many of Gates’ most inspirational quotes revolve around self-responsibility. He doesn’t believe in sugarcoating the truth. Instead, he emphasizes that real change begins within. One of his often-repeated messages is about owning your life, taking charge of your decisions, and refusing to play the victim.   “I don’t let nobody tell me what to do.”

This simple quote hits home. It’s about being the architect of your own life. Gates encourages us to listen to ourselves, to our gut instincts, and to not let outside noise dictate our choices. His words champion independence and individualism, values that have guided his own life and career.

Read More :- https://insightssuccessmagazine.com/exploring-the-various-inspirational-kevin-gates-quotes/ 

Be You, Even When It’s Hard

Another recurring theme in Kevin Gates quotes is the importance of being true to yourself. In a world obsessed with image and trends, Gates urges his fans to embrace who they are — even the messy, broken, or misunderstood parts. He makes it clear that authenticity beats popularity every time.

“You can learn from everybody. Even the ones who hurt you.”

This kind of insight comes from someone who’s been through emotional storms. It speaks to the importance of self-awareness, learning from mistakes, and refusing to let pain harden your heart. Gates doesn’t just acknowledge pain — he leans into it, mines it for lessons, and turns it into strength.

 Perseverance and the Power of Hustle

Gates talks about grit and hard work with the familiarity of someone who’s lived it day after day. His motivational quotes often circle back to the idea that success isn’t handed to you — you earn it. For Gates, life is a constant grind, and the only way out is through.

“I came from the bottom, now I’m at the top, and I did it with a smile on my face.”

That smile, of course, hides years of battles — internal and external. But it also reflects the satisfaction of overcoming, of refusing to be broken by circumstances. Gates believes in pushing forward, no matter what, and that message rings loud in his words.

 Redefining Success

What’s refreshing about Gates’ take on life is that he redefines success. To him, it’s not about fancy cars, chart-topping albums, or millions in the bank. It’s about personal , mental , and spiritual development.

“Success to me ain’t got nothing to do with money. It’s about waking up and loving yourself.”

In a society that equates worth with wealth, this kind of statement is radical. It’s a call to shift our focus inward, to find fulfillment in becoming better human beings, not just richer ones.

 Pain, Loss, and Healing

Gates never shies away from discussing pain. In fact, many of his quotes are reflections on loss, regret, and the emotional scars we all carry. He normalizes vulnerability, particularly for men who are often told to suppress their feelings.

“Sometimes the people you love the most turn out to be the ones that hurt you the deepest.”

There’s sadness in his words, but also truth. Gates doesn’t glamorize hurt — he acknowledges it as part of the journey. His quotes remind us that it’s okay to feel broken, but it’s not okay to stay broken.

 Action Over Excuses

One of the more energizing aspects of Kevin Gates’ inspirational quotes is their call to action. He’s all about doing, not just dreaming. Gates challenges people to stop waiting for the “right moment” and start creating their own opportunity.

“If you want something, go get it. Don’t wait. Don’t beg.”

That no-excuses attitude can be jarring, especially for those stuck in cycles of hesitation. But Gates isn’t trying to be gentle — he’s trying to wake people up. His words are like a cold splash of water: uncomfortable, but necessary.

Giving Back and Being Better

Gates doesn’t just preach personal improvement — he also highlights the importance of giving back. His philanthropic work and his quotes reflect a deep-seated belief in community, compassion, and lifting others up.

“It’s not about what you have. It’s about what you give.”

This perspective adds another layer to his inspirational persona. It’s not just about making it out of the trenches — it’s about reaching back and pulling others out, too. Gates sees success as communal, not just personal.

Street Poet and Real-Life Philosopher

What makes Kevin Gates unique is his ability to blend street wisdom with philosophical insight. His quotes often contain layers of meaning, wrapped in plain language, peppered with raw emotion. He doesn’t speak in academic jargon or carefully curated clichés. Instead, his words are real, gritty, and relatable.

His vocabulary isn’t politically correct, and that’s intentional. He’s not trying to impress; he’s trying to connect — with people who’ve seen dark days, who’ve felt lost, who need real talk, not motivational fluff. And he delivers.

[charlesgl2015]

Realities murmur and that is what those three branches of XXXX sexy churches are. Hand over the texts to Islam, Buddhism, Eastern style, Hinduism. Problem is they won't admit Orthodoxy not it bc I never heard name on property. You want to bark like dogs? Like Peter Kim. During sex. Bc I know bc silent growling inside throat unmoving. Check it out. Jehws Hot. Without no false leadership 80% for 1000 years. No leadership? It wants to disappear but trapped under words extra. I am not it bc loveless can't get man of love. Bapt. Ized. Music pop move. Ismed. Ism philosophy. Not it. Can't get rid of beast passage. Dare you? Fawn sacrifice they make me. Bambi. Disgusting movie. Their lesson to sacrifice. Make a choice. Why two choices when no Two Masters? I pray prayer intercede intercession get rid of the sexy churches. How only? Bc glow theatre? Met baseball club like or lose acting. Police want it. Think no miracle of repentance. No fun then fun. Like 50 cent song. Normalize? No no no. My dream not! Of joining Mets. One month and half. About. You had. Check. All they have. What was high school doing in front of Mont. House? Strangest shi-. Keep track of economy. Poorly suck! Bother poor. Like they never said names pray prayer intercede intercession. Stupid ppl threaten. If you not child into don't. Inspire over. You sickening pigs! Only think of hand to mouth.

[sexydemonkitty]

meet my 8th and last panda oc shi

Shi ping One Purple eye and one Purple/blue mixed eye Rebellious Weight 270 Age 23 Height- 5'4 Likes- Motorcycles, alcohol/smoking, being a nuisance, bungee jumping/skinny dipping, and horror Dislikes- light beer, escape rooms, semi-dislikes her picture taken, micro tiny dicks, and Jazz music G cup hers job is that she works at dragons hot wok with a Chinese dress that is red with a bit of black on the bottom and hers panties being the take out panties that are a black color with the word take out in red and like all my pandas they wear take out white panties but Shi ping has white one with black words and not the normal red indoor- low cut mini skirt, take out panties or black thong, a top that doesn't cover much outdoor- cut off jeans (cut at knee caps to look like shorts), net-like top, black bra, and boots (Would go nude if able)

[lovethisheart]

"Get you shows," He speaks around the rim of his coffee cup, swallowing small amounts while he digests for himself what her words actually meant. "Some smaller places at first, where the people actually care about the music. I know of another, previous rockstar, if I can find him." Contract laws were not his forte or interest. There ought to be someone in L.A. who could pick it apart for him, but that was of a lower concern. It'd only been a week of his return, and he was still consolidating all the connections, including a news anchor that was newly out of jail. That one, he'd have to wrangle down quickly by his neck if he ever got a bead on him.

Another one to catch by his throat comes back to his memory.

Favorite indeed.

"He's the best one I know. You might've heard of a demon prosecutor in this city- and not a better one forged in Hell, in my humble opinion." He definitely had that quality, as sure as wolves had hooves and horns.

"And... if you haven't seen him, let me be the bearer of bad news; he's stupidly handsome." Shi-Long had started pulling his phone free from his pocket, and picking through his photos. Minimal jarring noise is made when he step away from his chair, instead of scooting closer to her side as he'd intially seemed to want to do.

He opens to a series of pictures that appears to be ones he took himself, or at least, a trusted friend might've. Detectives were good at keeping each other in the loop, especially when having a mutual, but not equal interest in one subject.

"... Heh. You'd look at these and think he was just a normal guy, if you didn't know how he is in court."

———— 🖤┊   ❝ I MEANT WHEN AN ARTIST DIES, ❞   she clarifies, sigh settling strained shoulders. though apt his assessment may be, there was but one problem: she would need friends to be closer to. her persona played the part of people person, whereas she much preferred the company of flora, fauna, and literature. these things were easier to parse: wilting leaves, drooping tails, and neatly tied ends.

before her conscience can decline his courtesies, dismay dissipates from her face, scrunched lip and brow carving confusion instead.   ❝ favorite lawyer? ❞   she parrots, head lilting left in perplexity.   ( of all things to have a favorite thing of... )   shaking off disruption, she continues.   ❝ why retire at all then, old man? ❞   she teases, the edge of her lip peaking.   ❝ you've got life in you yet. ❞   

more than she could say for herself.   ❝ i've got a contract, ❞   she murmurs, eyes falling to floor.   ❝ i can't take you up on it, even if i wanted to. ❞   a pause.   ❝ ...not just yet, anyway. ❞   digits tap contemplative cheeks, pressing upon them with passing thought.   ❝ let's say... i could, and your connections don't scold you for up an' leavin'... what exactly would you do with me? ❞