bunkiwii

[bunkiwii]

I apologize for not being active but yeah i might go on a semi-hiatus due to personal reasons.

[bunkiwii]

stray kids naming their world tour maniac:

me with a book about a band going on tour called maniac: 😳

nah but SKZ PH TOUR WHEN????

[bunkiwii]

There's nothing more annoying than forgetting what you were gonna do once you are about to go do it.

[bunkiwii]

crystalline blooms // huang renjun

part of the visions series; inspired by and set in the world of genshin impact.

The forgotten grave of an old friend.

pairing: huang renjun x gn. reader genre: angst, fantasy word count: 1.1k warnings: brief mention of death

taglist: @jenoxygen @zlmzym​ @vantaecult​

yes, I know you can’t see jackshit from the top of dragonspine but pretend for a second that you can (fuck dragonspine by the way).

THE COLD BURNED.

It burned through the thickest layers of your clothing and embraced your limbs with flame, leaving painfully dry patches along your skin. Your limbs ached and your legs screamed with each step through the snow, but Renjun paid no mind. You stumbled after him, gripping a flask of tea and searching for a warmth that had long since departed; a measly bit of hot water proved futile against the cold of early morning, but having something to hold onto helped. Silenced your worries. After all, the mountains were supposedly the most dangerous place in the country—cursed with eternal snowfall and diseased with the venom of an ancient dragon, its hills and valleys riddled with monsters. Yet here you were, scaling the summit at sunrise.

It was still unclear why you were here; Renjun had roused you sometime in the early dawn, before the sun had even risen, shoved breakfast into your arms and told you to get dressed. It wasn’t much of a rare occurrence; although, on most days you’d trek east to the cliffs, or down to the ocean. Maybe venture across the border and camp out in the wilderness. Renjun took his research across the plains and through temple ruins, but rarely did he set foot in the mountains.

“How much further?” You called out, struggling to catch up with him. Your boots always sunk a couple inches too far into the snow, and the pack you carried on your shoulder was like a load of stones strapped to your chest: various glass vials, runes and preserved flowers you were worried would shatter and crumble if you moved too quickly.

Keep reading

[bunkiwii]

visions // nct dream // series masterlist

Gifts bestowed by the gods. Dreams, aspirations, ambitions. 

members: 7 dream x reader genre: fantasy, fluff, angst expected length: 7-14k total, 1-2k each current status: 6/7 completed

tag list: @jenoxygen​ @zlmzym​ @vantaecult​ ask, reply or message to be added. 

A short series inspired by and set in the world of Genshin Impact. For those who are unfamiliar with the game, the world of Teyvat is ruled by seven gods of seven different elements. The gods grant people Visions, the ability to manipulate the elements. The references i make throughout these one shots are pretty subtle, this was really just some practice with a different style of writing and a different genre. :)

All of the photos in the headers were taken in game. 

branches of a distant sea  mark lee, electro; the determination and will of lightning.

coming soon

crystalline blooms huang renjun, cryo; the boldness and steadfastness of ice.

read here

perpetual hearts lee jeno, geo; the strength of stone and earth.

read here

dandelion seeds lee donghyuck, anemo; the freedom and journey of blowing wind.

read here

sakura blooms na jaemin, dendro; the healing spirit and wisdom of nature. 

read here

chaos circuits zhong chenle, pyro; the passion and determination of fire.

read here

star conches park jisung; the longetivity and responsibility of flowing water.

read here

[bunkiwii]

dandelion seeds // lee donghyuck

part of the visions series; inspired by and set in the world of genshin impact.

Childish wishes made in the wind.

pairing: lee donghyuck x gn. reader genre: angst, fantasy word count: 1.5k warnings: discussions around death and suicide, implied suicide, major character death

taglist: @jenoxygen @zlmzym​ @vantaecult (dm, ask or reply to be put on/taken off the masterlist for this series)

finally finished inazuma archon quest today. no clue why it took so long but sheesh the cutscenes still have me shaking in my boots.

YOU WERE SEVEN when you met him.

Your first glimpse of him had been beyond the cobblestone walls of the city, in the dandelion fields—where the wind whispered sweet melodies and foraged a shifting path through the tall grass. It carried the aroma of sweet flowers from the wilderness and freshly-baked bread from the bakery, and a multitude of golden specks as the children scattered the dandelion seeds. Hopes, dreams and visions carried off into a boundless expanse of sky; you’d always hoped one of yours would one day reach the gods. It was a common wish amongst the children, but apparently not for the boy who sat alone at the edge of the field.

He did seem rather sullen. Not exactly hostile or withdrawn from the rest of you, but sulky. He always looked a little too busy to join the others, poking images into the dirt with a stick and mumbling to himself. When you walked up to him, he had a single dandelion in hand—one that still hadn’t turned white and wispy, with yellow petals that matched the golden glow of his eyes. He was tearing the petals out one at a time in some sort of silent temper tantrum, flinging them into the tiny pile of sand and pebbles he’d collected earlier.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” you told him bluntly. He looked up at you in surprise, and instantly froze—a stark contrast to whatever sass you were expecting from him. “Mother says dandelions are…” You wracked your brain for the word you remembered her teaching you the night previous. “Scared.” That wasn’t right. “Scar… sac… sacred. That means they’re special. So you shouldn’t hurt them.”

“And you shouldn’t tell other people what to do,” he mumbled, looking away once he’d overcome the initial shock and embarrassment of being confronted. The other children didn’t usually talk to him. “I’m making dandelion wine.”

The bitter yellow liquid adults drank. You looked down at his pile of rocks, and then the wooden cup of water he’d scooped up from the lake. “I don’t think you can drink rocks.” He looked unimpressed, so you stopped to think of a better argument. “The rock god made rocks for us to dig up and make into things like… houses and jewels and jewellery! Not to… drink.”

He scoffed. “I don’t believe in gods.”

“Why not?”

“Just because.”

“Oh.”

You’d never heard of anyone who didn’t believe in the gods. They were real. You knew they were. You could even see them in the sky: a jagged formation of stone and marble far beyond your reach, where all the greatest heroes went after their time on the earth.

“What’s your name?” you asked him curiously, though you had secret intentions of running home and telling your mother about the strange boy you just met. She would surely give you a lecture for being out at play while dinner grew cold on the table, but you already had the most wondrous stories dreamt up to recount to her.

The boy shrugged, but his eyes flashed with a sort of mischievousness: specks of gold in his iris like scattering yellow petals and amber bits of stone. He handed you the rest of his dandelion—albeit half-destroyed, but a silent peace offering. “Donghyuck.”

So began your friendship.

You were fifteen when you received your Vision.

Bright red, inlaid with flames, infused with a fervent passion and determination you didn’t even know you had. It appeared soundlessly on your desk while you were scribbling a letter to your older brother, and you didn’t even notice it until you’d returned from the postal office. Too tired from the day’s work, you could only attach it to your jacket and put out the candles with your newfound abilities before collapsing into bed.

“How come you get a Vision?” Donghyuck asked the next day, while the two of you skinned and cleaned the carcasses of the rabbits he’d hunted. He was a good shot; a single arrow through the eyes of all of them.

“It’s not like I’ll use it for anything,” you shrugged. “Why are you so upset? You don’t even believe in the gods. They’ll never give you one if you keep up with that attitude.”

“I never said I don’t believe in their existence,” he countered swiftly. “I just said I don’t believe in them. They’ve never been here for us. And they never will be.”

Donghyuck received his own Vision only a couple days later, and he immediately flung it off the highest tower of the cathedral. Though unsurprisingly, as a gem crafted by the archons themselves, it survived unscathed.

Donghyuck was only upset because the stone was turquoise and inlaid with the sigil of your own patron god, the one who’d disappeared long ago. In his eyes, it was mockery. A reminder of all the tragedy in his own life, and how the supposed supernatural beings in the sky had no intentions of doing anything more than giving him a stone and some vague instructions to fix everything on his own.

But he got over it quickly. Soon, he was dousing your flames with gusts of air strong enough to blow down the entire house. He was summoning wind currents and gliding around the city with you, grabbing your hand and bolting down the streets when the knights learned of all your mischief. He was charming girls in the park and stealing bread from the bakers simply for the thrill, running as free and wild as the wind in your hair.

You were eighteen when you noticed.

Sometimes, Donghyuck jumped from the church towers and unfurled his gliding wings just a little too close to the ground. Sometimes he went diving off the cliffs and swimming in the freezing ocean water without telling anyone. Sometimes he walked too close to the edge of a drop, like he was just waiting for a breeze to knock him over. Sometimes, you thought the freedom his Vision had granted him would make him do something he regretted.

“Wonder what it’d be like,” he murmured to you one night, when you’d climbed up to the highest windmill in the city. He was looking up at the mountains, where the peak met the cosmos in a swirl of snow and ice. “To go up there.”

“How would you get back down?” you asked, without really thinking too much about what you’d just insinuated. The adventurers who loitered around the tavern—even the most seasoned ones—always said it was easier climbing up than it was climbing down. The winds made it too difficult to glide, and the slope was always noticeably more slippery on the way down.

And besides, Donghyuck would never go that far, would he? He was a trickster, a tease, a show-off; he jumped and did things he wasn’t supposed to only because he wanted to show off. Because he wouldn’t actually—

“Jump, I guess. Hit the ground hard,” he shrugged. “Or just never come down. They say the temperatures are low enough to kill you in minutes.” He took a thoughtful pause. “I’d reassure you and say I wouldn’t do something like that, but I suppose I can’t lie to you either.”

You couldn’t find any words, so he continued.

“Mom’s sick again. Holed up at the apothecary’s place with medicine that doesn’t work and people telling her she’s gonna make it when we all know she’s not. And you know Dad turns into a demon when she’s gone,” he laughed. “It’s selfish, I know. But I’m just so… tired.”

“It’s not selfish to want to avoid pain,” you said. “But you know, there are people who are willing to help carry those burdens.”

He gave you a soft smile, and again you wondered why he hadn’t been given the same red stone you wore on your back; Donghyuck was all warmth and comfort when he was with you, like an open hearth and a glass of dandelion wine. “I couldn’t possibly put you through that now, can I? Couldn’t possibly be selfish if it would hurt you.”

His lips brushed against your forehead like a cool breeze, ever comforting and gentle, ever reassuring—though some part of you felt as if he was simply holding off the inevitable.

You were twenty when he left.

Renjun arrived early at dawn with the news, teary-eyed and shivering in the frigid air of an early winter. When he’d gone, you went down to the field where you first met Donghyuck, where you felt as if there could be some remainder of his rocks and dandelion petals. The dandelions were gone this time of year, their seeds had already been carried off in the wind—but you knew his dreams were with them someplace beyond the horizon.

[bunkiwii]

sakura blooms // na jaemin

part of the visions series; inspired by and set in the world of genshin impact.

The winding path to the shrine.

pairing: na jaemin x gn. reader genre: fluff, fantasy word count: 1.6k warnings: none

taglist: @jenoxygen @zlmzym​ @vantaecult (dm, ask or reply to be put on/taken off the masterlist for this series)

this one's just cute. that's all.

AS A CHILD, YOU WERE NEVER allowed into the shrine on the mountain.

The path leading up to the peak called out to you whenever you passed by: gold and red lacquer arches adorned with paper lanterns and strips of colourful paper, arrangements of flowers and hand-carved statues, all sorts of offerings and gold left by temple-goers. But however inviting and serene, the shrine was no place for you or your friends. It was a spiritual establishment built on eons of history, meant for prayer and quiet meditation—two pillars of the faith that a child’s excited shrieks could easily topple.

So every Saturday, when your mother made her trip up the mount with the neighbours, you were left to wait on the cobblestone steps of the path. At the very least, the elderly lady who lived next door always brought their grandson along, and plenty of books to keep the two of you busy.

Na Jaemin was two years older than you, and your exact, polar opposite. He was delicately pretty, fair-skinned with black hair and eyes the colour of sage leaves; prim, proper and poised, always soft-spoken and polite even as a ten-year-old. Where you were wild, running circles up and down the steps and scribbling crude drawings into the books you couldn’t yet understand, he sat quietly. Where you complained endlessly about your boredom and the unfairness of being left behind, he would wait patiently.

“What do you think is even up there?” you once asked him, whilst you were hanging upside down from one of the nearby sakura trees. “What takes them so long every time? It’s been… three hours!”

“It’s been ten minutes,” Jaemin corrected you, not looking up from the book he was reading. It was a big book; in the last couple of months, you’d only read the ones with pictures, but he was quickly moving onto the novels and classic poetry you could barely make sense of when he read them aloud.

“Well, do you know what’s up there?” you asked again, and this time, he put his book aside. He reached into his pocket and dug around for a few moments, then pulled out a slip of crumpled paper. A simple rectangle of cut parchment, and several lines of swirling black ink across its length.

“Father told me they have these fortune slips in the shrine,” Jaemin said. “If you shake a bamboo strip from a box and give it to the shrine maiden, she’ll give you one. They say whatever’s written on it is bound to happen before the next day.”

You squinted at the words, struggling to read some of the more complex characters. “What does this one say?”

Jaemin read it to you. “Today, a single shot from your bow will shoot down an airborne prey, and a single strike against a guard will hit their weak spot.”

You frowned. “But I don’t know how to use a bow. Do I have to learn how before tomorrow? And shoot a bird? And a guard? Wait, no, Jaemin I can’t do that, I’m too young to go to jail!”

It was the first time you saw him lose composure. At first, he only cracked a good-natured smile. Then came a fit of giggles that shook his shoulders when he tried to stifle it. Finally, he let out a howl of gleeful laughter that had you back on the ground, laughing with him—because you knew Jaemin would never laugh at you. Only with you.

By the time your mother let you go up to the shrine with her, your childish desires to explore and cause mayhem had diminished greatly. In all those years, Jaemin—now sixteen and supposedly reaching adulthood according to the grown-ups—had taught you how to sit still, how to wait, how to entertain yourself with thoughts rather than actions, even if he never deliberately corrected your actions. You supposed he simply had that effect on people: passing his gifts of sagacity and healing onto even the most ill-tempered.

The first time you were allowed to enter the shrine together, the two of you sat at the edge of the peak with your legs dangling off the edge, reading to each other while the adults prayed.

“Fortune slips,” Jaemin blurted out, out of nowhere, quickly jolting you out of your concentration. It was out of character for him, but you’d always liked seeing him excited like this. “I just remembered. We should go get one.”

“Race you there?” you challenged.

“We’re in the presence of the Sacred Sakura,” he seemed to sober from his previous excitement. “We are not racing anywhere.”

The two of you didn’t race, but you certainly walked as quickly as you could down the wooden platform and across the courtyard, each trying to outmatch the other in a childish but silent battle. You got there first, and rather begrudgingly, Jaemin let you shake the bamboo slip from the fortune box. The shrine maiden gave you a slip of paper in exchange: the exact same fortune Jaemin had showed you when you were children: Today, a single shot from your bow will shoot down an airborne prey.

You sighed. “Again, I don’t know how to use a bow.”

“You know it doesn’t mean that literally, right?” Jaemin chuckled. “But I do have a bow if you want to learn. We can go hunting.”

You eyed the stone path, then turned to him, silently pleading. “Race you?”

This time, he gave in. You counted down from three—and then made a run for it. Shrieking like wild animals, yelling taunts and both trying to cut the other off along the narrow road, you raced down the side of the mountain and back to the village; Jaemin would surely be reprimanded by his grandmother the moment he got home, but he didn’t seem to care.

At the end of the day, you went home to face chastisement. But you also went home with the quail you’d shot using Jaemin’s bow.

The days melded into weeks and months and years, until the two of you had grown well into adulthood—but your trips up the mountain never ended. Good fortune, rising fortune, misfortune, you cycled through them like seasons, and you did it together. The fortune slips proved to be inaccurate day after day, but you were content to collect them anyways; a thick wad of parchment was now pinned to your wall, above your collection of well-worn books.

“It seems like it will rain today. You will still be waiting for the commendation you are due, and you may be served the wrong dish by the waiting staff.” It was sunny that day. The restaurant you frequented had your order made perfectly, but the tailor’s alterations to your ceremonial robes had you holding in your breath just so you could fit into them.

“Whenever you draw your blade, it shall lead you towards victory. The shine of your blade as it leaves its sheath will also inspire those around you.” Jaemin tripped down the last steps of the path and sprained his ankle.

It was a sunny afternoon when Jaemin received a particular fortune: “Suddenly, you will find brand new common ground with old friends.”

Spring had just arrived. A gentle breeze swirled through the trees and into the courtyard, carrying the delicate fragrances of sakura blooms and incense. The two of you sat in your usual spot: on the boulders under the pale pink blossoms of the trees, next to the creek where water spilled off the side of the mountain and into the lake below.

“What do you think it could mean?” Jaemin mused, bearing some sort of knowing mischief in his brilliant green eyes. “Perhaps rekindling connections with old friends…”

“Forging new ones,” you supplied. “Addressing previously ignored sentiments or interests… say, for example, your strange obsession with beetle-wrestling and bug fighting. If I somehow developed the same interest in such childish things, that could be considered new common ground.”

He grinned. “So is there any possibility of that happening?”

“Never,” you silenced him, laughing. “What about you? What do you think?”

He was silent for a long moment. He was still just as he had been some ten years ago, when you first met him: quiet, thoughtful, and oftentimes completely wordless when he disappeared into the realm of his thoughts. You glanced over at him and found him staring at you with warm kindness in his gaze and his smile. Faintly, you heard a stutter of half-formed words escape you—and before you knew it, his lips brushed against your cheek.

“Addressing previously ignored sentiments or interests, right?” he repeated your last words to you shyly, and you could see the rosy hue starting to form on his cheeks. Heat rushed to your skin, and not even the cool breeze of early April could combat it. “If… that’s alright with you.”

Your heart stumbled over a beat, tripped over the last steps of the cobblestone path, and went crashing into the same grassy spot where Jaemin sprained his ankle last year. When you met his gaze, you found him still anxiously awaiting your response.

“I thought you would never,” you whispered back.

So he kissed you softly beneath the blooming sakuras, stole your breath away like he had all those years ago. When you first saw him. When you raced him to the village and up to the shrine, when you stared at him for just a little too long, when he offered to take you hunting in the woods at dawn. The parchment fortune slips fluttering in the wind had always been a childish thing, really, and hardly indicative of your future—but you supposed they’d done some wondrous job at finally bringing the two of you together.

[bunkiwii]

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[bunkiwii]

It just occurred to me that i know a lot of jaem biases and i'll take that as reason why i keep getting so many plot ideas for na jaemin.

[bunkiwii]

BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD!

once you are given this award you’re supposed to paste it in the asks of eight people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you’re beautiful inside and out! 🖤

AAAHHH tysm 🤍 and one for you as well :D

[bunkiwii]

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[bunkiwii]

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[bunkiwii]

AS A MULTI STAN, I AM FREAKING OUT BC THERE'S SO MANY MARCH CBS AMDJKAKKAKX BUT OMG IM SO EXCITED FOR DREAM CB

[bunkiwii]

KANKFKAOK!! @))"!#))@?*;?101)3!_!(@)?#!"

[bunkiwii]

😸 x 😸

[bunkiwii]

nct dream playing the chapstick challenge

. cw; just a lil bit of crackhead behaviour

mark:

"chapstick game?" he turned his back as you applied the watermelon flavoured chapstick to your lips, barely knowing the rules of the game. "yeah it's simple, you just have to kiss me and guess what flavour the chapstick is." mark nodded, before turning his head a little to see if you were ready.

the two of you faced each other, both leaning in as you puckered your lips. mark quickly turned his head to the side as he snorted, covering his mouth with his hand while he laughed. "sorry, sorry just gimme a sec." you rolled your eyes at his flusteredness, a small smile on your own face. "mark, seriously? it's a kiss we've done this plenty of times before." mark gathered the strength to stop laughing and then leaned in to give you a quick peck.

his eyes widened as he instantly recognised the flavour. "yooo, that's gotta be watermelon! where'd you get that from?"

renjun:

he probably takes it the most seriously out of the dreamies, mostly because it's just another opportunity to kiss you without a reason. you both sat cross-legged facing one another, his hands covering his eyes as you applied the grape chapstick on. placing it behind your back, you tapped him on the leg to let him know he could look.

"so i just kiss you now?" he asks, leaning in a little. "well yeah, that's the whole point of the game." you both giggle before giving each other a peck. he leans back, slightly licking his lips to figure out the flavour. "can i have another go?"

"that's your only chance, that's the rule of the game." he throws his hands up in the air, defeated that he got rejected from another kiss. "this game is stupid. i can't even kiss my own girlfriend again!" you sighed, holding up the chapstick to show renjun.

"wrong, the answer was grape."

jeno:

he turned to face you with that classic eye smile of his, completely engrossed in how cute you were rather than the flavour of chapstick he was supposed to kiss. he always loved when you'd come up to him suggesting to play random games you'd see online. but I this moment, he just wanted to be close to you.

you leaned in to kiss him and then attempted to pull away, but jeno stopped you as he wrapped an arm around your waist and continued to peck your lips a few more times. "jeno, you're only allowed one kiss! that's cheating."

"screw the game, i'd rather kiss you instead." he said against your lips. "the flavour was cherry anyway. i looked at it when you weren't watching."

haechan:

would 100% cheat and look at the flavour. his eyes were covered by his hands, but in reality he was peeking through the cracks of his fingers as you applied the apple flavoured chasptick in the mirror. you'd turn to look at him closely, sighing loudly as you could see haechan looking back at you.

"it's a chapstick game, why are you cheating?" he would uncover his eyes and pretend to act shocked that you'd accuse him of such a thing. "no i didn't, i swear!"

"haechan, you're a horrible liar." you said, putting the chapstick away since there was no use in playing the game anymore. he shook his head frantically, pulling you closer to him. "i would never cheat! now just hurry up and kiss me."

jaemin:

would have no idea what you're talking about, but he's always up for a game to pass the time. he hadn't actually paid too much attention to what the game was actually about though. "okay, i'll close my eyes and guess first." you told him, handing him the chapstick. you'd gotten jisung to rip off the labels earlier so it was more challenging.

but as you covered your eyes, you heard a sound of disgust moments later. "ew, what hell! why would you give me strawberry out of all the flavours?"

you lowered your hands, eyes widening at the sight of jaemin chewing on the chapstick. "jaemin! you're not meant to eat it, you fool!"

chenle:

"okay, now come here." you said to chenle as you hid the peach flavoured chapstick in your sleeve. he opened his eyes and made his way to sit next to you on the floor.

without any hesitation, he pulled himself forward and licked your bottom lip to taste the flavour. you opened your mouth in shock, wide eyes staring at your boyfriend. "chenle..."

"what? i'm meant to taste it right?" all you could do was shake your head at his response.

jisung:

"no peeking!" jisung looked back and make sure your eyes were closed as he applied the melon flavoured chapstick. once he was done, he moved to sit in front of you and gently moved your hands from your eyes.

with a quick peck, you rubbed your lips together in an attempt to get more of the flavour. "hmm, is it.... orange?" you asked, looking up at him. he gave you a wide smile, nodding as he pulled out the chapstick. "correct! good job."

you looked at the label of the chapstick that clearly had 'melon' on it, before giving him a tired look. "jisung, it says melon."

"oh?" he looked at the chapstick. "well... you're wrong. you lose."

[bunkiwii]

favorite mark outfits (32/?)