#[edit]: HE'S LIKE A DANDELION GUYS

[scarletiswailing347]

tfw you're a prince and a wandering squire from a foreign land challenges you to a hunting duel

[gierosajie]

Thinking about Venti's wish and og powers translating to his witch form in the Madoka au

Like, it doesn't have anything to do about splitting, but he can be in multiple places at once because of some minor time powers. And by that, I mean he could isolate an event and place a version of himself at a different point in time relative to it and the timeline where he changes something also happens at the same time where he originally was at

When it comes to his witch form, the arms and harp strings kinda reference that. Like how he tries to simultaneously change things, plus the strings being a reference to the fate he tries to change. But y'know, the paper hands kinda break every time he tries to use the strings, which calls back to how he ended up Like That in the first place

[yuukiiqwq]

Dandelions: Sukuna Ryomen x Reader

His heart beats only for you while yours beats for someone else, so he made a wish on a dandelion, hoping it would come true.

Context/Warnings: Fem!Reader, Soft!Sukuna, swearing, unrequited love, flower language, a bit suggestive

Wc: 2.7k

Part 2

It's not like he wanted to fall in love with you. It was actually your fault. You weaseled your way into his life and then his heart. If only you had left him alone, then none of this would have happened. But you were too god damn stubborn to leave him alone. It was all your fault.

It was so stupid how he fell in love with you. Sukuna absolutely hated cliché stuff. And here he is going through the stereotypical cliché plot. He even told you how much he hated it. He remembers telling you how he rather die than read those stupid romance books you like to read. They were full of stupid plot with disgusting mushy feelings. Basically, it's the same thing in every story. He always felt like his ears were going to fall off listening to you talk about those stories. Recently, you started to read this one-shot called Dandelion. Something about a guy having unrequited feelings for a girl for years and the girl liking someone else.

Absolutely fucking ridiculous.

Sukuna remembers how he met you. It was a few years ago, back when they were still in school. He was minding his own business and then you fucking popped out of nowhere. He wouldn't tell you but you scared the shit out of him when you suddenly appeared.

"Yknow, smoking is bad for you."

He turned around to see you at the door smiling.

"Y'know, not minding your own fucking business is bad for you," he scoffed. "Get out of here. This is my spot."

You walked up to him and snatched the cigarette away. You tossed it onto the ground and put out the light.

"They can cause many health problems," you say as you crossed your arms. "And I don’t see your name anywhere on this rooftop."

He glared at you– "Listen here, you brat. What I do has absolutely nothing to do with you. So skip along to your friends and go bother them instead."

"What if you are my friend?" You said smugly. Your eyes were shining with mischief. "And since you said to go bother my friends, that's what I'm doing."

"You must think you're so fucking funny," he snarled at you.

You put your hands on your waist– "I am actually very funny."

He took a step towards you and towered over you. "Leave."

You looked up at him with a deadpan expression.

"No."

"Last warning. Leave."

"Make me."

News flash – He wasn’t able to get rid of you. He was unsuccessful no matter what he did.

You decided to bother him every single god damn day. Somehow, you always showed up at the rooftop whenever he was there. You just wouldn't leave him alone, so he decided to ditch the rooftop. To say he failed was something he didn’t want to admit. He didn't fail. He just decided to ignore you. But then you showed up in front of his classroom. You somehow found his classroom.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance and quickly tried to leave before you could catch up to him.

Mission escaping the brat– failed.

You were a fast little thing. You immediately caught up to him and were now walking side by side with him. This caused a lot of people in the hallway to stare at both of you. You two were an unexpected duo to see together.

"Sukunaaaaaaa"

Great. You even found out his name. Amazing. Whoever told you his information is dead. He's going to kill them.

"Sukuna, if you keep looking like that, you'll end up being super ugly. No wonder you don't have a girlfriend."

Sukuna turned around to face you– "You trying to pick a fucking figh–"

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence as you stuffed a mochi in his mouth. Where the fuck did that mochi come from?!

He quickly chewed the mochi and swallowed.

"Did you fu–"

"Was it good?" You quickly interrupted. "It's a new flavor that came out recently. A friend gave me some to try."

"I don't car–"

"It was a limited edition sale. My friend camped outside the shop for a whole day just to buy all the stocks."

You continued talking about it, and Sukuna wanted to just smack you. You were so annoying.

"I am going to smack you if you keep talking."

You immediately stopped talking and walking. You looked up at him and grinned mischievously.

"Wow, Sukuna. Didn't know you were kinky like that. It's ok, though! I like it rough, but take me out to dinner first. Bedroom activities can come later~"

This caused him to explode in anger. You were teasing him. He immediately stomped away from you. He could hear you laughing as you tried to catch up to him. Fuck. You were annoying as hell. Sassy and challenging him in every way.

Your eyes were gleaming with mischief. Did you have to say that? Now he wanted to put you in your place. Bend you over under him and–

Oh fuck. Now you implanted a curse in his head. Fucking minx.

After months of you constantly pestering him, he grew used to your presence. He started to enjoy it. Wait, no. He meant he was just tolerating you.

Yeah. That's right. He's just tolerating you.

"Sukuna! Stop!!!"

Sukuna immediately halted– "What's goin–"

"You almost stepped on some dandelions," you say as you knelt down to the floor.

Sukuna felt like he was going to pop a vein. He can't believe you stopped him for a weed. Can you let he walk to a restaurant in peace?! It was fucking Saturday. He should have never allowed you to follow him home back then.

"Are you fucking joking with me right now?" He looked down at you as you pluck the dandelion. "You stopped me for a fucking weed?"

"First of all, it's a flow–"

"It's a fucking weed."

"It's a flower!" You huffed. "And it's a wishing flower! You make a wish and then blow away the seeds!"

"Great, now you've gone crazy. Just the thing I need from you. As if you're not annoying enough."

"I have not gone crazy! People make wishes on dandelions!"

"And do you know if any of them got fulfilled?" He raised his eyebrow at you. "And I'm sure the people you talk of are kids."

"Well um–" You try to think of something to say as a comeback but come up with nothing.

He smiled smugly– "That's what I thought."

"That's not the point!" You quickly shoved a dandelion in front of his face.

"Get that weed away from my face. I'm starving for food, and you're stopping me for a weed."

"Geez, stop being a party pooper," you sulked. "Make a wish! Maybe it will come true and prove you wrong!"

"I am not going to do something so childish," he said as he pushed your hand away.

"I'll buy lunch!"

Sukuna stopped and thought about it for a second before saying– "And dinner."

If he was going to indulge in your childish antics and look like an idiot, he better get something out of it.

You reluctantly agreed, and he snatched the dandelion out of your hands. He made a wish and then blew the dandelion seeds away.

"There. Made my wish. Now I hope your wallet is ready."

"Whatever, you glutton! What did you wish for?"

"None of your fucking business brat."

The two of you spent a lot of time together. You eventually introduced Sukuna to your other friends. Which surprised Sukuna because at this point, with the amount of time you came and bothered him, he believed that your friends were imaginary.

A girl named Shoko Ieiri, who looks like she's sleep deprived. A guy named Suguru Geto, who, in his opinion, looks weird. Why is he smiling like that!? And finally, a guy named Satoru Gojo. He was the worst out of all your friends. He didn't do anything to him, but just looking at him makes Sukuna want to get rid of him. Cut him in half. Sukuna didn't understand exactly why until he looked at you, looking at him.

Although Sukuna personally knew nothing about love, he knew what he saw. He seen enough people do what they do when in love. He heard enough about the stupid love stories you like to read. He can see it in your eyes when you look at your friend. You liked him.

The way your eyes light up whenever he comes toward you. The way your cheeks start to turn red with a small blush. The way you nervously play with your hands. The smile you give whenever you're around him. A smile that can rival the sun. He felt a pain blossom in his chest as he clenched his fist. These are things he has never seen or gotten from you before.

He hated everything that was going on right now. He hated the way you would sneak glances at him when you think no one was looking. The way you lean into his touch. The way you looked at him with pure adoration and love.

He absolutely hated it.

It took a while for Sukuna to understand why he hated Gojo so much. Why just the sight of Gojo annoyed him. And it's all your fault.

He didn't even know when these feelings started. Was it when you guys first met and you stood your ground with him? Was it when you teased him? Was it when you kept bothering him? Was it when you guys would go out for lunch or dinner together? Was it when he took care of you when you were sick? Did he fall for your looks? Your personality? Was it because of the times you've spent together?

Fuck. He was pissed. Here he is, catching those disgusting mushy feelings for you. Something he sweared would have never happened, and he doesn’t even know how it even happened.

"Fucking hell," Sukuna sighs as he run his hand through his hair.

It should be fine, right? He'll just ignore this. Move on like he didn't realize he fell in love with you somewhere along this journey. These feelings won't last anyway. It will disappear soon. You liked someone else, too, so it should be easy to move on. Right?

Fucking wrong. He's never been more wrong in his life.

All of you have graduated and are now doing your own thing. You all meet up regularly to hang out. Although Sukuna made an effort to see you daily as much as possible–

Wait, no. Correction: He sees you daily because he knows you'll do something stupid if he wasn't watching over you. Nothing else, really.

It's not like Sukuna had trouble moving on. He's not dreaming about you daily. He doesn't want you. It's not like that at all. He obviously moved on from you while you still liked Gojo. No point in these feelings since they're a nuisance.

Deep down, even if he ignores it, he knows he still likes you. But it's not like you'll ever look his way like the way you look at Gojo. Unless an opportunity arrives and it just so happens to arrive. That opportunity came knocking at his door, and he isn't going to let it slip away.

After years watching you love someone else, now he is watching you get your heart broken by that same person. Honestly, he never understood why you fell in love with this guy. That guy was a child in a man's body. Like, who even drinks those sugary, coma-inducing drinks??

But here you are smiling through the pain. He saw small tears forming in your eyes before you quickly wiped them away and said there was dust in your eyes. Others may not notice it, but he does. He saw the hurt in your eyes when Gojo told them that he fell in love at first sight with someone.

Great. Now he wants to murder Gojo even more now for hurting you.

However, he can't help but feel happy? Relief? He doesn't know what he felt. He just knew that an opportunity was given. But he isn't going to be a shitty person and confess to you right when you got your heart broken. He'll wait until you heal. If you ever will. After all, he had already kept his feelings to himself for years. What's wrong with waiting a bit more?

He could make you happy. He would give it his god damn all to make you happy. He would never hurt you. He wouldn't make you cry. At least not cry in a sad way. You crying under him, though, is a different story–

He quickly shakes his head to get rid of that thought. He's getting distracted. You got him wrapped around your fingers, and you don't even know it. He couldn't help but sigh. He really is still in love with you.

He watches as you and Geto try to give Gojo advice on how to win over the person he likes.

"You're an idiot," he interrupted.

He stared at Gojo as he said it, but it was meant for you and himself, really. Both of you two are idiots. Both of you have unrequited love, like in those shitty stories you read. He really is living in the stupid cliché plot he hates. And it's all your fault.

A few months have passed since then. He knew you had mostly moved on. He can still see the hurt sometimes, but it's fading. He knew he should make a move soon. After all, if he doesn't, what if someone else approaches you? But he also knows that just because you moved on doesn't mean you'll see him as he sees you. So he's willing to wait for that day. The day you look at him the way he looks at you.

So here he is. Standing in front of a flower shop. Looking extremely out of place. If you told his past self that he fell in love with you and is now trying to pursue you, he can see his past self attempting murder. He really can't believe he's going to order flowers.

He took a few deep breaths and walked in.

The minute he walked in, a florist greets him– "Hello sir! How may we help you today?"

"Can you make me a boutique?"

"Of course, sir! What type of flowers would you like for the boutique?"

He wanted something to convey his feelings and message. He's done some research about flowers and their meaning. Many websites showed different things, but he eventually settled for one.

"I want..."

When he finally finished ordering the flowers, he went home. On his way back home, he noticed a dandelion.

"...it's a wishing flower! You make a wish and then blow away the seeds! ...People make wishes on dandelions!"

He stared at the dandelion for a few minutes before he clicked his tongue. He bent down and plucked it. He then made a wish and blew the seeds away. He didn't know why he did it. It's not like the dandelion would make his wish come true.

"Tsk. Can't believe I did this. It's fucking stupid."

You really made him a god damn softie so it's about fucking time you take responsibility.

A few days later, he asked you to meet him at your usual spot. A place that only the two of you knew. When he arrived with the boutique, you were already there. You were sitting on the bench, looking over the city.

He quietly stared at you for a while. You were so beautiful sitting there. If angels did exist, you'll be one of them. But then again, your personality was more like a devil. You cast a curse on his heart, and honestly, he didn't mind it. You can curse him for his entire lifetime as long as you accept him.

"Hey, brat. Look behind you."

When you heard the sound of his voice, you quickly turned around. You looked at him and smiled until you noticed the boutique in his hand. You gasped as your eyes widened.

Red chrysanthemum and astilbe. I love you and I will be waiting for you.

[husbandhoshi]

TO GROW LOVE (AND EAT IT TO THE CORE)

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader wc: 8.1k summary: your whole life, you've only wanted one thing. then you meet mingyu. suddenly you want too much, and you wish the summer never ended. notes: farmer!au, established relationship, angst/hurt/a little comfort

this is a birthday fic for my one and only cat @wuahae ! yes this is about half a year late but what can i say. all good things come with time. thank you for being so kind, funny, and thoughtful (and patient)! not a day goes by where i’m not thankful for our friendship :)

and a million thanks to hana @wqnwoos and jackie @97-liners for helping me with edits. literally you guys are insane writers and i will never stop looking up to you.

i. strawberries (the summer we were young)

When a strawberry is ripe, the seeds push out from the heart of the fruit, as if it's bursting from the inside out.

This is one of the few and only things you've learned by living in Seogwipo, where strawberry season comes like a supernova. The May sun, full and heavy, peels into summer, and the roadside farms open their doors, trying to catch stray vacationers from Jeju City on the other side of the island.

That being said, there are approximately two things to do here. One of them is farm. The other is pretend like you have a life, which is your childhood friend Yizhuo's favorite thing to do when she's back from university on summer break.

Today, this involved convincing her ritzy, too-good Seoul friends that they're missing out on this side of Jeju. (Missing out on what? You're not sure. Perhaps the chipped paint of the mural walls, or the endless flat-topped stretches of seagrass. Yizhuo isn't fooling anyone, but you've always liked stretching your legs out in the bed of her pick-up, even on the long drive to nowhere.)

Unsurprisingly, her friends quickly came to the same conclusion. Just one look at your local strawberry patch, with none of the glamour of the bloated tourist traps in the city, and they decided they'd rather spend the afternoon at the beach.

It was then, between the fragaria blooms, when you met Mingyu. He asked for your name, and the rest was history. Yizhuo and co. scattered like the grasping hands of an overripe dandelion and you learned that he was, one, the newly-graduated son of a pair of local farmers, and two, very, very attractive. Almost too much so, especially for a place like this.

Now he holds up a berry, a bright red murder between his fingers, and tells you to try it.

"You must be delusional if you think i'm taking food from a stranger," you laugh, perched on the fence bordering the field. It sprawls before you, melon stripes on the sunbaked ground.

"No, my name is Mingyu," he replies. "No idea who delusional is." His smile, all bright lip and snaggletooth, tears into the scarlet belly of a newly picked strawberry.

"We all know what happened to Persephone."

"Well, if the underworld was a strawberry patch, I wouldn't mind being stuck there for all of eternity."

"What're you picking all these for, anyway?" you ask, watching Mingyu struggle with his too-big straw hat between the vines. His woven basket bleeds over with little berries.

"Jam. I make it on the very first day of every summer."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who trespassed on my farm. You're cute, but I won't let you off easy."

He laughs at how you balk, clearly red-handed. You're not sure how to tell him you don't think you were supposed to be here either. You don't do things like sit in the back of trucks, trespass, or talk to pretty farmer boys who take a fancy to you, but it's the summer before you graduate and you're not even sure how long you'll have to continue making bad decisions.

"Are you gonna take my first-born now?" you joke instead. The daylight runs down the rim of Mingyu's hat, trickles down his brow, and you wish you could pour the image of him into a jar and keep it forever.

"No, but I will invite you in for some fresh jam on toast. I baked a loaf this morning." and when you say nothing, he continues. "The strawberries are only good once a year. It's the best you'll ever have. Promise."

It's a whine and a half, and somehow you convince yourself this will be the last bad decision you'll make. You've been here long enough to know that good things don't come twice in Seogwipo, and he is unlikely to be an exception.

Yizhuo blows up your phone, you tie the gingham apron around Mingyu's tiny waist, and the basket turns to blood in the saucepan.

Mingyu is right. Love comes to you in that kitchen, high and red like the sun, and the jam never tastes as good as it does that summer.

ii. watermelon (hollowed out, like a magic trick)

"A good watermelon sounds like a heartbeat."

You watch Mingyu heave the fruit, small and striped, out of his grocery bag. It joins the array of egg sandwiches and banana milks you picked up from the store together earlier. (There should have been chocolate Pepero too, but you split the box on the walk).

You're on a picnic, sprawled out on the outcropping overlooking the water. The path up is basically right behind your house, but you had never cared to visit. It had always been the local makeout spot, a schlocky teen crawl for those with nothing better to do, and yet, with Mingyu stretched out beside you, it seems newer. More exciting.

You're still just friends, or at least that's what you told Yizhuo. But ever since you sat on Mingyu's kitchen counter and ate from his jam-covered spatula, you don't think you've gone a week without seeing him. It's been almost two months, which seems so long and yet not long enough—he makes it easy to be greedy.

"See?" He thumps the watermelon with the heel of his palm. "Try it."

You already went through this entire charade at the grocery store, right in front of all the local aunties, but you indulge him. There's little point to triple checking if it's still ripe, but you think he just likes hitting it.

"It sounds good," you say. "But how are we even gonna eat it? We don't have a knife."

"Watch this." Mingyu procures a coin from his pocket. "You didn't learn this in elementary school? I feel like everyone was doing it."

"Here?" you ask, incredulous.

"Yeah, here. I grew up here too, you know."

He holds the edge of the coin to the skin and slams his palm into it once more, so that it lodges itself into the rind, and begins dragging it around the fruit. You start to wonder if he bought the watermelon just to show you a party trick—not that you mind, though. The strain of his biceps peeks through his rolled up white tee, and you remember why he was able to stop you with just one look back when you first met.

"No way." The watermelon is so ripe, it bleeds around the incision. "I feel like I know everyone here. And I definitely would have remembered you."

"I was probably, like, two grades above you," he replies. "And my parents shipped me off to live with my cousins after elementary school. They said I should get out of Seogwipo and experience the real world."

"Good call. There's nothing here." You watch Mingyu spin the melon over to cut through the other side. The coin catches the sunlight, and it looks like gold. "I wish I left for university. The one here is so small."

"Really?" He pauses to show you his handiwork. The two melon halves roll over on their backs, their cut edge cruel and jagged. "Cool, huh?"

"Impressive," you say. "Honestly. I really didn't think that would work."

"I didn't either when I first saw someone do it. But I’ll try anything once," he replies, ripping open the packaging of the plastic spoon from the bag. "I can't believe you don't like it here."

"You do?"

"Yeah. A lot." He shoves the spoon in his mouth, and you watch the watermelon juice pool around his lips. "I missed home. The trees and the tall grass and the ocean. All the fruits. Everything. I learned to ride a bike, right down there by the water."

"Hm." He passes you the spoon. You don't want to hog it, so you carve out a piece bigger than you need. "Are you gonna work at the farm?"

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet," he says. "I think I want to be here, though. Maybe do something with food, but I want to be home."

"That's funny, because I think I’ve always wanted to live a different life. Or at least one somewhere else."

"You want to go to law school, right?"

"Yeah." Mingyu is right. The watermelon is all sugar, and you would almost feel guilty for eating it if it wasn't technically good for you. "I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. It's something about the people watching, I think."

"That’s really cool," Mingyu says, mouth full but no less sincere. It's then that you notice your shoulders are almost touching, and your heart crawls back up to your mouth. "You know what you want. I admire that."

He makes it sound like a compliment, but you're sure it's a curse.

You think of your parents. There's a permanent wrinkle ironed into their foreheads, the paper crease of expectations and high standards. It's not that they didn't care, but their kind of care was a humbled sort, made heavy by a hard life. It didn't help that your big sister Seohyun went straight from Yonsei to work a big tech job in San Francisco and never once looked back.

But you can't blame any of them—wanting has always been a hereditary failing. Sometimes Yizhuo will catch you frowning at nothing, and then you remember that life isn't a performance and every day ends at the same time no matter how hard you work. But you don't know how to tell her that the only thing you can do sometimes is want, because otherwise you wouldn't really have much at all.

It seems like the exact opposite of how Mingyu lives—everything about him seems to pass like the seasons. Maybe that's why you can't seem to get enough of each other.

"Thank you. Really." You dig the spoon into your half of the melon. There isn't much left. "You're way too nice to me."

"It’s not hard to be," he laughs. "Maybe you're just too hard on yourself."

You're losing track of the distance between the two of you. You can almost feel the heat playing off his skin.

"Maybe."

It's then, under the veil of summer, where you meet Mingyu's gaze and, finally, things seem close to simple.

All you know are his eyes, heavy with sun, and then the slow, slow move of his lips against yours. He tastes like August, long and sweet, and for once you know what it's like to not only want, but to have, and to have again.

The ocean sings on the horizon, and the watermelon bellies weep.

iii. adzuki beans (or, the blood of a headless taiyaki)

Mingyu eats taiyaki headfirst because he says it hurts less.

"That makes no sense," you tell him, your pinkies linked. You never really liked holding hands, but yours fits so perfectly in Mingyu's and there's some girlish, childlike shine to it when you watch his finger search for yours after just a moment separated.

"What do you mean."

He breaks your gaze to eye a red bean taiyaki, like an unwilling predator sizing up their prey. It's the lamest, most embarrassing iteration of National Geographic you've ever seen, and yet you cannot find any fiber within yourself not deeply in love with the lion.

Fall is a forgiving place for your relationship to settle. You're now a senior at university and he's started his gap year. Gap implies he's in the middle of something, but in true Mingyu fashion, he leaves it up to fate, or chance, or something not nearly as kind (whim).

"Taiyaki isn't alive. And why would you want to pretend it is? Eating gummy bears would become an extinction event."

"It kind of is." He holds out the tail end of the taiyaki, the pastry almost explicitly flayed open, in front of you to eat. "Why does the Haribo bear have a face? Why do the gummy bears live in a gummy forest?"

"Great, so now I can’t even enjoy gummy bears without feeling like a serial killer?"

You dig your pointer into his shoulders, broad from all the time he spends on the farm. To think that his hands, big and weathered, were made to pick berries (and now wrap around your pinky finger) is bruising, if not ridiculously funny.

"It's a crime of passion. Gummy passion. Prosecute that."

He kisses your cheek and your heart almost squeezes into two.

The terrible thing about being with Mingyu is how seemingly endless his affection is. Now he's feeding you in public and buying the two of you matching socks (cat and dog, to be exact), although you'll admit it's a little charming, even if the neighbors do gossip.

He's sweet, too sweet, and his kisses stick to the back of your throat.

But you can't be fooled. There's an unsaid violence to the way Mingyu loves. (The meticulous spiral of the peel he carves when you ask for him to cut you an apple. The grind, decisive and cruel, of a knife against a cutting board. A pair of canines against your neck, your jaw.)

Even now, he bites the head off another unwitting taiyaki before stuffing it back in the bag.

"We're still splitsing, right?" he says, with perhaps 1% of his mouth available for speaking and the other 99% murder machine.

Splits, he always says before you share food. You never had the heart to tell him that it's in the same family as mines or sharesies or takebacks—silly childhood relics, ones that no one uses anymore because they don't mean anything.

This time, you don't hear him because you're thinking about the law school fair you went to before Mingyu picked you up. The future is so close, it scares you. A year from now, what ground would you be standing on? Would it smell like this—the peat, the thread-spool fields, the balm of the ocean? Would you still have Mingyu's finger wrapped round yours?

"Have you decided if you're staying at the farm?" you ask.

"Not really." He uses the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. "If my sister decides to take over, I’m actually kinda thinking of going to pastry school instead of getting a masters."

Mingyu had been toying with the idea for some time after you had talked about it on the outlook. It started off as a joke (September; a galette), then a what if (October; green tea mochi), and now it sits at a kinda.

"Kinda?"

The word gathers speed in the pachinko machine of your mind. You never liked being a kinda person. For Mingyu, it seems like a luxury of a word, but for you, it's really just another thing to hide behind. Kinda talented, kinda ambitious, kinda just there. You're always one foot in, one foot out of something better.

"Yeah, kinda. Why?"

"I dunno. What if we both end up leaving?"

"Maybe. You still want to, right?"

You would be lying if you said you didn't—it's what you always wanted. Seogwipo has been a sun-rot, too-small crutch for you, but you would also be lying if you said you weren't terrified that you'd eventually come back, limping like some doomed Icarus, unable to truly make it in the real world.

Then you think of the pockmarked farmland beside your home, lacy with the fall harvest. Even now, you can trace the endless blue of the coastline all the way there, cut through all the maybes and just let the sound of the ocean fold you into sleep like you were a child again. You wonder if Seohyun, all the way on the other side of the world, ever misses it.

"I’m not sure," you say, because, as much as you don't like it, it's the only answer you have.

"It's ok. You'll figure it out. You always do." He squeezes your cheeks together between his thumb and index, laughing at how they pillow out underneath his fingers. "Screw pastry school. I could come with you. Who else would keep you fed?"

Mingyu's complete and unfounded belief in you makes you feel something close to betrayal. How could he say any of that? With what proof? Only someone like Mingyu would be able to hold the wrinkled fruit of your unremarkable life between his palms and see something better than that. Maybe it's because he grew up on a farm. Either that, or he already cares for you too much, too painfully.

Secrets are easy to keep when they look like yours. At least here, in the pit of your stomach, you can keep count, take attendance of them, all your tittering, small anxieties. Some days it feels like your ribs are pressing out, but it's better than cutting everything loose to spill out over what little you do have control over.

You can handle a little pressure. You have to.

What concerns you is the hand Mingyu's got across your chest. With one look, he just might gut you. A twist of the heart-knife, and all those carefully wound insides carved out in an instant—maybe he'd pity you, but worse than that, he'd likely be disappointed.

For you, expectation has always stood taller than shame, and the idea that he sees something past you makes you want to run away.

"I could be a house husband," he says as easily as ever. "You'll be off saving the world, arguing with whoever, and I'll be there to run you a bath afterwards."

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," you reply, binding up the strange, hollow feeling in your stomach with a laugh.

There's a scared little girl hiding inside you, and whether Mingyu sees her or not hurts the same. A spade is a spade. You can only pretend so long.

You look at the taiyaki floating in their wax paper bag, blinded and wrought open by the same grin that now peels you down, and you're not hungry anymore.

iv. winter pears (rotten, outside your parents' house)

Mingyu's family loves Christmas.

You think it's because of the pear trees they have in the front yard. They stand bravely before the house, all emerald ash and wisdom in the December freeze. Run your palms over the knobs and it's like you can see into a sleepy visage of simpler days past. (Below its heart, carved: 1982, the year the farm was bought. Along the tangle of the roots: gyu waz here, in an unsure, childish scrawl.)  

Winter comes to the countryside crawling on its hands and knees. On days it doesn't snow, there's a mist, boggy and clingy. You've come to realize the cold is more of a threat than a promise, and so the pear trees still bear fruit; the silvery branches hang heavy, faithful.

The first day of December, Mingyu's parents had tasked the two of you with decorating the farmhouse, a duty you took very seriously. You wrapped Mingyu up in string lights and watched him blink in and out like your own personal firefly.

It wasn't until you watched the rafters, the barn doors, the joyous vault of the ceiling all glow, like a spectacular firework, that you finally started to understand why Mingyu was so into the holidays.

It was in the yellow blush of the string lights that you had your first pear from the tree, which Mingyu insisted was a holiday tradition. We make poached pears, he said, mid-bite. You simmer the pear in syrup until it gets so soft, you can cut into it with a fork. Just like butter.

That same night, he kissed you, mouth hot and trembling and tasting of honey, and pressed you against the bark so hard, you could feel the grit of its veins against your skin.

You think December became your favorite month, and pears your favorite fruit.

So much so, that for the entire month, you try to put away your worries about law school applications to celebrate with Mingyu and his family.

You learn his mom makes the best hot chocolate (a cinnamon stick and a dogged devotion to the whisk), and that Mingyu has no clue on God's green earth how to ice skate. (He careens right into your chest the first time. You spend the next hour with him attached to you like a backpack—he manages to find the most impractical ways to do anything, which you somehow admire the most). On Sundays, Yizhuo ditches her Seoul friends and instead accompanies you to the mall two towns over, where she watches you compare different ties and watches and collagen creams as you decide on gifts for his family. (Lilac is so last year, she'd say, stirring the straw of a watered-down milk tea.)

It's not until the weekend before Christmas when you realize just how serious things have gotten. Your feet understand the meander of the dirt path to the farmhouse, your bones the scent of the yellow-skinned apple, the faded wildflowers. Your palms crave the plush of the rug they have in front of the fireplace. Hell, you can't even eat soondubu without thinking of the kind Mingyu's dad makes, with extra anchovies and green onion.

You don't think about what this means. There are ten days left in December and love poured from a full cup never seems to run out.

"Please let me carry some of those," Mingyu wheedles. "Oh my god. I'm like the worst boyfriend in the world."

"No, you are not." you make your way up to his doorstep, taking care to one-two step over the stray roots of one of the pear trees. It's second nature to you by now. "The moment I hand you a box, you are gonna start trying to figure out what it is."

He harumphs and plucks the big one off the top anyway, the one he knows you can't reach. "I didn't even know you were getting us gifts. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do. Who shows up to a holiday dinner emptyhanded?" You stop at the front door. "And stop shaking it," you laugh, using the tip of your boot to nudge his shin.

"Okay. Okay," he says, saccharine, adoring, before grabbing the doorknob. "Ready? Are you nervous? You shouldn't be nervous, right? It's not fancy or anything, if you were worried about that."

And that's the thing that wedges itself between your ribs. Mingyu and his whole family are like this. They love and worry and love again; it presses deep into you, fills you, and overflows.

So here you are, standing in your nicest dress and balancing a stack of gifts you hope will amount to something, never enough but something, to repay the people who you feel have loved you more than you deserve. It's all you really have. You do your best, and yet you know when that door opens, it'll all be washed away in a high-tide flurry of hugs and laughter and the familiar press of Bobpul's wet nose against your leg. They're just those kinds of people—they would be just as happy if you didn't bring anything at all, and somehow that makes you feel even more guilty.

"No, no," you wave him off. "I’m fine. Excited."

When Mingyu opens the door, everything goes just as you expected. His sister takes your coat, your gifts are whisked away to the tree (Aji has already figured out which one is his), and his parents descend upon you in a choking swell of warmth and charity.

We baked some fresh bread for your parents (—Thank you so much, but you really shouldn't have.). You look so beautiful in that color (—No, no, you flatter me too much.). Mingyu better be taking good care of you (—He is. He really, really is.).

The kitchen is gauzy with cinnamon, anise. They must be making their famous poached pears, which Mingyu remarks on, just like clockwork.

Dinner passes the same way. It bubbles over with affection, and you feel swallowed by an impossible yearning. This—a full table and a hand to hold underneath it—did you deserve this? And could you keep it?

For an instant, you picture yourself, years later, at this same seat. Mingyu would be fussing over the rice cakes, his apron still gingham because it reminds him of the day you two met. His parents, grayer but no less happy, bickering over the shade of tinsel on the tree. And the dogs, coiled at your feet like they are now. The vision laps at your bones like you're a raft in a storm.

You're pulled back into the moment when Mingyu squeezes your hand, grounding and insistent. "Mom asked how school was going. I told her I think you're basically the smartest person I know, and I’m pretty sure you're getting into whatever law school you want."

Mingyu's parents laugh, and they cut through their pears.

"Oh, sorry," you say. "Um."

Clink. Knife meets flesh, meets porcelain. Your cheeks are hot. You wanted to talk about anything other than yourself tonight. Clink.

"The top programs are a reach, but it'd be nice." clink. "I just want to get in somewhere."

"They’re all so far away," Mingyu's mom remarks. "So grown up. Any school will be lucky to have you. You'll get into all of them."

Clink.

"Or maybe you can stay here." You watch the prongs of Mingyu's father's fork disappear into the pear. "Keep us old folk company."

"No, no, I think Mingyu should take notes and get off his lazy ass," his sister says, teasing. "Going back to the city will be good for him."

"So you can, what, burn down the kitchen again?" Mingyu grumbles, and the whole table seems to boil over with laughter.

"We’re kidding," his mom tells you. "No matter where you go, I’m sure you'll do great. We can even throw you a party at the end of the year. For graduating."

Clink. Clink.

There's a horrible uneasiness writhing around in your stomach. It's pear and syrup and clove and a blackness, an anxious, selfish one that sucks up all the generosity of the evening and turns it into shame.

Mingyu's mom is talking about throwing you a graduation party, something you didn't even think to do for yourself, and here you are, thinking about the shaking moment you open your rejection letters and the lonely path you'll draw on your way back home.

It's ok. They missed out, Mingyu would say, pouring you a consolation drink, and then it would be over. You'd go home and sit on your bed and the trifold piece of paper would go round and round your head like it was in a washing machine.

Your heart, an inventory of tasks and goals and tally marks. Things you've taken and things you've owed. It's a soft, boneless excuse. Be grateful. Give them that, at least.

Clink.

Dessert ends before you can tell his family not to get their hopes up. Mingyu's mom sends you off with your loaf of bread and a kiss on the cheek, and the moment is gone.

"Gyu," you call out on the steps in front of the house.

There are words at the seam of your lips. You want to tell him you're sorry for worrying so much. For making the whole dinner about you and then very possibly having nothing to show for it when it matters. For the heaviness in your chest. Your cowardice. But none of it comes out.

Instead you watch Mingyu pull at the leaves of a pear tree, watching the frost-filigree they get at the end of the season. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at you, as if he's on the hazy cover of a magazine. His eyes bend so wonderfully at the corners when he looks at you, and it breaks your heart.

"You had fun, right?" he asks. "My parents like you a lot, you know. I think they really do."

But that's the problem, you want to say. You all do, and I have no idea why.

Some of the pears are beginning to rot now. You watch one drop off the vine, and it caves to the pavement like it was made of nothing at all.

v. wild barley (grows like weeds)

In March, you play house.

Your parents leave on a two week trip to see relatives, and Mingyu takes it upon himself to make sure you survive.

It's a kind, blinding charade.

(7 am, breakfast. You usually don't even eat breakfast, but you wake up to doenjang and a smile, one that presses itself to yours until you're wearing it on the long walk to school.)

(4 pm, the stretch between lunch and dinner. You're muddling through another useless club meeting when Mingyu sends you a picture of him in your mom's apron, making kimchi. Kiss the chef, he texts you. You promise to, over and over and over.)

It's good until it isn't.

That isn't to say that it's Mingyu's fault. In fact, it's never really Mingyu's fault, and that's the worst thing about your relationship. Sometimes you wish he was worse just so there was someone else to blame.

(1 am, a fridge-cold glass of water and a hand on the column of your spine. Can't sleep? He asks. Just had a weird dream, you say.

It's a lie. You're a liar.

You miss your parents and the first wave of acceptance letters comes out in two days. You're not like him. Sleep has never been a cure for the exhaustion you're feeling, and you have no way of telling him that however warm the bed is won't fix that.)

It's on a Thursday afternoon when you open your mailbox and see the tiny, thin envelope that you've been expecting for the past week. You don't need to open it to know what it says, and yet you do it anyway.

The sun is white, a ghost in the spring sky. The ocean bleeds into the overcast, the curly barley stands tall around your feet, and you let the worst letter you've gotten in your life fall upon your shoulders, word by terrible word.

Then you close it, pinching the seam shut, and draw up your brave face. Nothing left to do but be brave. You're convinced you've used up all the sadness in your relationship—spend in pennies and the well still runs dry. Mingyu will cup your cheek and call you darling, pouring into your emptying basin, holey and broken.

You see him now through the kitchen window, Venus in his clamshell of a kitchen. Galbijjim day, he had said this morning. Now, he waves at you, glittery with recognition.

Your throat feels like crumpled paper.

Mingyu smiles at you, hazy through the glass. Your cheeks hurt and your mouth is paper mache, but you smile back anyway.

///

The letters come one after another.

You know what the envelopes hold and yet you keep opening them. The little folder you keep stashed in your bottom drawer gets fatter every passing day because you can't help but revisit your misery, almost as if you need to remind yourself it exists.

Mingyu is none the wiser. Today he decides he'll put off pastry school for one more year. "It doesn't feel like the right time," he says, rolling a log of burdock kimbap up. "You know what I mean?"

No, you don't. You never really do.

You do know, however, that it would feel really fucking bad that, come the end of the year, to have nothing. All your friends would be going somewhere—even Yizhuo opened her acceptance to an MFA program in Shanghai yesterday—and you would be here, still, feet firmly planted in the muddy Jeju dirt like they always had been.

"Hey, don't look so disappointed." he jokes. "Don't tell me you're already trying to get rid of me."

You're not, you really aren't. But part of you wonders if it's just a race to the bottom. If you got rid of him before he decided he wanted to get rid of you, maybe it would hurt a lot less. One less letter for the folder.

"Never. But imagine if you picked up a French accent at pastry school. Then I’d consider it. Maybe."

You watch his knife rock back and forth on the cutting board as he cuts the kimbap.

"Some for you. And more for me," he says, in what you can only describe as someone attempting to speak French when they've never heard it before. "Unless you want more, mon cherie."

He brings the plates to the table, his grin nothing short of dizzying.

"I’m irresistible, huh? Still wanna leave me now?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder than that, I think."

The words roll off your tongue, easily, traitorously.

You watch the kimbap disappear off of Mingyu's plate.

Going, going, gone.

///

Seogwipo is always dark at night, only kept alive by the glow of the moonlit sea.

You can't sleep. Again. And so you sit out on the steps in front of your house, letting the twilight wrap around you like a blanket.

You got your last letter back earlier today. You held your breath and tore it open like you would a birthday card with money in it.

Waitlisted.

It was surely better than a rejection, but some naive, child-eyed part of you thought that if you had just closed your eyes and hoped hard enough, things would work out the way you had planned. Tragically, it wasn't enough this time. You wanted and wanted and you thought maybe that would mean you'd come close to deserving it.

Your parents called today. After managing to sideline the issue of basically the rest of your entire life, they had finally cut through your sad little charade. No good news yet, huh?

No, but—

It was always like that with you. No, but it's not as bad as you think. No, but give me a chance. No, but I’m trying. I've been trying.

You wish things didn't come out of you so complicated. That you could be like Seohyun, who could go through school with her eyes closed and still graduate at the top of her class. Instead, you parade around your little failures, trying to convince people it all could mean something only if they squinted. See? It isn't so bad.

You think you're past the point of crying about it. Your stomach hurts, you're cold, and most of all, you just want to go back to bed. Plus, although Mingyu sleeps like a log, you think he's developed a sixth sense for whenever you get up too early.

Time to be brave, you've been telling yourself, although you don't know who you're pretending for anymore.

So you nudge the front door open—it's so old, it wails if you come at it with any more force—and, to your surprise, see the light above the kitchen sink turned on.

It's not very bright, but it's enough to make out Mingyu's broad silhouette, back turned to you as he makes a cup of tea. He's humming one of his made-up songs.

"Mingyu?"

"There you are," he says, turning around. "Just came out to check on you. And make you some tea."

The kettle whizzes. Your gut twists.

You still haven't said anything to Mingyu. To manage your own disappointment was one thing—you don't think you could handle another person's. And yet when he stands there, Pororo mug between his huge hands, you feel as if you are holding a knife, big and guilty and bloody.

"I-I'm fine, Gyu. Honest." you watch his expression flicker, unreadable in the persimmon lamplight. "Sorry you had to come out. It's chilly out here."

"You know, you can tell me what's going on. I won't judge."

No, no, no. This is the last conversation you wanted to have, with the last person you wanted to have it with.

You feel feverish. You think your hands are shaking.

"Mingyu, I swear—"

"Whatever it is, we can fix it. I know we can."

That almost makes you want to laugh if you didn't want to cry so bad. Of fucking course he would say that. Mingyu, who treats life like it's the watermelon trick he showed you on the outlook, wants to put a bandaid on this whole thing, as if that could come close to fixing it.

He'd tell you to curl up on the couch with a bad movie while he orders takeout. Kiss you on the top of the head. It's ok, baby. Just another bad day for the person who has the worst luck in the world. Another lump of problems for him to try and make better. If he isn't sick of you now, he sure would be soon enough.

"It’s okay," you say, steeling your voice. "It really isn't a big deal. Let's just go back to sleep."

You try to walk away, but the hardness in Mingyu's eyes roots you down to the tile.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Pushing me away," he swallows. "Like you always do. I know something's going on."

"I’m not, i just—"

"You just what? You can't help it?"

"No, I—"

"Because you like to know that you can? That you can say whatever and then watch me come back?" A fragmented, heavy silence thrums between you. He's looking at you like he's daring you to say something, anything. His gaze is black. "What am I good for if you can't tell me anything?"

There's that familiar, stinging pressure behind your eyes. You think you're crying, but you're not sure. Maybe you've been crying this whole time.

"Fine," you bite. Your blood feels like hot metal. "You really wanna know? I didn't get into law school. There. Happy now?"

Mingyu looks stung.

"W-why didn't you tell me?"

Because I thought you would stop loving me. I thought you would have finally had enough.

"Because it's not all about you, Mingyu."

The words, selfish and damning, burn your tongue. Mingyu is right. This is what you always do. You fuck up and then make everyone else hurt for it.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says. His voice doesn't sound like his. Instead, the words seem to hang in the air, trembling and holding their breath, waiting for an apology you can't give yet. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's ok." You swallow hard, and it hurts. "Let's just go back to bed."

It's getting colder and colder. You think there's a little hole in your sock, right above the cat's whiskers.

Mingyu doesn't reach for you as he passes to get to the hallway. Maybe he doesn't know how to anymore.

The Pororo cup is left abandoned on the counter. You walk over and read the label on the tea bag—barley, because you have class tomorrow morning.

You pick it up, let the ceramic buzz between your hands with whatever warmth it has left, and hold it to your lips.

It's cold now, but all you can think to do is drink it. Erase all the evidence that tonight ever happened, and maybe it'll be nothing more than a bad dream in the morning.

There's honey at the bottom of the cup. It sears the back of your throat, but you drink until there's nothing left.

vi. the peach blossoms (without fail, bloom every August. I miss you.)

You broke up the next day.

Even now, you remember what happened. You had woken up early that morning to make your own breakfast because you couldn't allow Mingyu to give you any more of himself. Your hands could only hold, shatter, so much.

"Mingyu, I think we should...." You looked at the zigzags of jam on your toast, angry and uneven. "I think we should stop seeing each other. For now," you had added, as if that made anything better at all.

Somehow that seemed more merciful at the time. Really, you think it just showed your cowardice. If you were going to break his heart, you might as well have gone all the way the first time.

Maybe it was a good thing that Mingyu saw right through you. He always did.

"So that's it, huh? You're just gonna give up on us?"

"No, I just...need some time."

"How long?" he asked. "Be honest with me. Because you know I’ll wait."

"I don't know." You couldn't meet his gaze. His eyes reached and reached over that kitchen table and you denied him even that.

"Don't you always know?" he asked, pitifully, desperately. "Don't you want this to work?"

And you did. In fact, you don't think you had ever wanted anything more, and it was that that scared you. You had already lost law school—you couldn't let the only other thing in your life let you go. So you pulled the trigger first.

"We should just end things. I'm sorry. I can't give you what you need."

He packed his bag within the hour, and you think everything, from then on, froze inside you. You didn't move from your seat until your parents came home from the airport later that day and asked why there were two plates of toast still on the table.

You think you knew, someplace, inevitably, this would happen. You, who only knew hunger, had reached deep inside Mingyu and rooted out a love you didn't think you were worthy of having. And yet you still ate from the vine, bite after guilty bite, until you couldn't take any more. The only time he asked you for anything at all, you couldn't give it to him—such was the irony of your relationship.

Maybe you were doomed the moment the first strawberry hit your tongue, just like you had said, all that time ago.

About a month later, you got another letter in the mail. Chungnam National University Law School, it read. This one was fat, in one of those brown envelopes lined with bubble wrap. Somehow, miraculously, that position on the waitlist had turned into an acceptance. You held the package to your chest and cried, loud and with abandon, as if taking a deep breath after almost drowning.

Ironically, the first person you wanted to tell was Mingyu. But the good news you needed to save your relationship came too little, too late. Perhaps that meant it had no legs to stand on in the first place, but that didn't stop you from missing it. Instead, you told Yizhuo, and she drove you to Jeju City and treated you to dinner. "You should just call him," she had said. "Hey, don't look at me like that. He'd probably pick up on the first ring."

The city is swathed in August's crimson summer—peach season. The narrow streets are lined with peach trees, the fruits glowing like fat drops of sunlight. All you do these days is plan for your eventual move to Daejeon and the start of a life that seems newer and shinier than your own. But surrounded by the cicada song, the velvet treeline, the rain-soaked asphalt, somehow you think you're going to miss Seogwipo more than you think.

(Fickle, fickle heart. You always needed things to be taken away to really be able to appreciate them. Somehow, all that wanting had boiled down to something more satisfying, more filling.)

You wonder how Mingyu is. Now that you think about it, he seems just as much a part of Seogwipo as the farm he lives on. It was only last summer when you had first met him in the field, set on fire by the strawberry harvest. You think about him now, peddling around that ridiculous wicker basket to make jam. Maybe talking to another pretty girl, someone as naive, cruel as you had been.

Not long ago, you considered calling him to apologize, but that'd just be another thing to be selfish about. A little time and some warm weather, and I’m calling to finally wash my hands of you. That's what it would sound like, no matter what you said. Still, it didn't stop you from thinking of him, every flower, every season.

"You know, I always wanted to grow peach trees. But I think we've always been a pear kind of family."

Mingyu. If a voice could cut through air, it'd be his.

You whip around, half-believing you're hearing things. Certainly that would be easier, but you're learning that there are some things you can't run from.

And like a picture, Mingyu stands tall, golden, framed by the peach blossoms. Not a thing about him has changed. Not even the way he looks at you.

"Mingyu," you breathe. Unfortunately, none of the times you replayed your last conversation with him help you come up with something to say, because in none of them did you anticipate him coming back. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I live here, silly."

"No way," you reply, scrambling. "Crazy, because I live here too."

You both laugh nervously, a silly, bubbly thing, but you feel like you're going to throw up. It's only now that you realize you're kind of on the walk to his place. Seogwipo has never had places to hide.

"I...um." You try and disentangle the guilt from the nostalgia from the scent of the peaches and the warmth on his face. They all look the same. You missed him. "I got into law school. In Daejeon."

"I heard," he says. "Not surprised at all. I always knew you would."

"Thank you. I mean it." The cicadas buzz around you, as if they know they have an important silence to fill. "You're staying in town, right?"

"Actually, I decided to apply to culinary school. It finally felt right, you know? I'm leaving at the end of the summer, but it's just in Jeju City. I couldn't leave the island."

"Thank goodness. I don't know if you could tell, but I kind of always hoped you would. I don't think I’ve ever eaten better food." Your voice wobbles, but it gets there. "You'll do amazing."

Then time stretches and forces you to recognize, reckon with, the moment you're in. You wonder if he feels the same way you do—bruised, overripe. If there's still a space in his heart for you.

Deep breath. Life only gives you so many chances.

"Mingyu, I’m sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't make us work. You deserved better." Saying it feels like peeling the skin of your heart back. There's still a palpable distance between the two of you—you think that had always been there—but it feels more comfortable in a way it never did before.

"Don’t apologize," he says, easily, as he always does. Everything seems to flow off him like water, and you think that's the part of him you loved the most because it was the one thing you couldn't touch. "We loved each other. I think that much was true."

A jasmine breeze curls through the trees, sending the blossoms fluttering around you like ink in water. The very first time you met Mingyu, you thought the image of him, haloed with the sunset, was the one you wanted to keep forever. And yet, somehow, you don't think you'll ever forget the way he looks right now.

"Will you ever come back to Seogwipo?" you ask.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing—you were always the one who wanted to get out of here." He grins, ear to ear. "Of course I'm coming back. There's nowhere I'd rather be."

"Yeah. I think I know what you mean."

The sea, the clay dirt, Mingyu. Even yourself, clumsy and care-worn. You think, somewhere along the line, you forgot how to love. But you're learning—one step at a time.

"Friends," you say. "Let's be friends. If you'll let me."

"Thought you would never ask. Gladly. Always." The space between you seizes, like it's holding in a breath. Maybe one day, you'll think of closing it once more, but you like where you stand now. You can admire him better from a distance, without your fingerprints all over him. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, something he does before he gets ready to leave. But before he does—"I'll see you soon, okay? You better come back. Promise me."

For the first time, you see the honesty in his eyes and you really, truly believe him.

"Promise."

The Seogwipo sun is high and red in the sky when you wave Mingyu goodbye. It feels like you're coming to an end of a long summer, but you're not afraid. You watch the wind dance through the peach blossoms, their branches never searching, never wanting, and you finally feel as if you've arrived home.

[mushm00nsblog]

“A flower for you, my dear!”

Featuring: venti x reader, lyney x reader, ayaka x reader and lisa x reader (separate)

Synopsis: you’re on a date with them, when they suddenly give you a flower! how cute <3

Warnings: fluffy! Readers are already dating the character, reader is an implied female but there isn’t any pronouns used! Pet names ‘cutie’ and ‘dear’ are used! (Edited and refined)

Mush’s two cents: hello! this was just a cute lil idea for all these flirty genshin romancers that came to me as a shower thought. I originally thought of only the lyney one, but then I was like “erm I just wrote for lyney?? I need more characters!” and thought long and hard (it took me a few seconds) to come up with these. I wanted to make them all have different stories but make them off of the same concept, so I’m sorry if the repetition of the flower quote as you’ve seen before gets old... alas! I hope things appeal to your expectations. enjoy!

venti

You swung your legs back and forth slowly to the melody venti plays beautifully for your ears only on a branch of the Windrise tree.

His eyes were closed as his experienced fingers plucked the strings, you watched him closely, sighing an admiral sigh as you take in his painting-like appearance.

A sudden breeze flows up through the open air, and you watch as the god of anemo’s braids flow along with it— allowing the wind to guide your hair in the same direction as well.

The breeze doesn’t last long, but by the end of it, you eye a flower flying towards your direction, not batting an eye at it as all that mattered right now was your rhythmic lover..

Suddenly, right as the flower flies past both of you in the current, venti sticks an arm out to catch it swiftly, ending his lyre playing abruptly and pulling you out of your trance.

“Oh look! Here’s a flower!” He exclaims when he grabs it out from the gushing winds grasps.

Venti holds the flower up to you, chuckling softly as your expression changes to widened eyes, clearly not expecting that. “For you, my dear.”

The wind had stopped and all that you’re met with is ventis eyes, his hand extending a lovely Dandelion up to you.

Your cheeks warm up as you take the flower from his hands, smiling sweetly before looking back up into your lovers eyes.

“Thank you, venti..” you speak, softly, watching your lovers eyes flutter closed once more as he picks up a different melody on his instrument.

Afterwards: “venti! how’d you grab that flower so quickly?” “ehehe.. who’s to say I wasn’t the one that sent it this way?”

Lyney

Having not had seen your boyfriend, lyney for a while, you both opted to make time for each other at your place, setting up a comfortable space on your sofa for some quality time.

You were both on separate cushions, a card game of Genius Invocation TCG plastered out on the center cushion in the middle of you guys.

As far as it seemed, you were winning the card game so far, having all 3 of your cards still playing as only two of lyneys were left.

He let out a playful gasp when you took down his first card, having him looking up at you with a little pout before he resets his facial expression to his usual smile.

“I admire your handiwork!” *he says with a playful glint in his eyes, before he suddenly looks as if he’d noticed something.

“Hey.. what’s that behind your ear?” he questions, making you take your eyes off the card game and focus on what exactly is behind your ear.

He leans forward, moving his hand behind your ear, reaching for something before pulling his hand back into your view, holding a rainbow rose!

Your eyes beamed as you gasped. “Oh look at that! It’s a flower!” he exclaims, putting on an act as if he wasn’t the one that made it appear. “For you, my dear”

You take the rainbow rose into your hands excitedly, your eyes shining as your admire the rose, blushing softly when your eyes meet his as you remember the meaning behind gifting rainbow roses.

“Thank you lyney!” You thank him, excitedly leaning in close to him and hovering over the cards to place a quick kiss to his cheek. “Let me go put this somewhere safe now..”

With that, lyney nods and watches you walk not too far away, placing your lovely new rainbow rose in a vase and setting it down on your coffee table in front of the sofa.

“There!” As you set down the flower, you admire it proudly, taking your seat a few seconds later.

“hey! what happened to my cards??” “now you see it now you don’t! looks like I win!”

Ayaka

You watched mesmerizingly as Ayaka finishes her Sakura Bloom Dance in Chinju forest, applauding once she finishes and watching her bow with a sweet smile on her face.

“Wow, Ayaka… I’ve seen this dance so many times.. but each time I see it I’m always amazed.” You say, sighing out when you finish speaking, and she lets out a little giggle at your compliment.

“Thank you, I do appreciate your admiring.” She replies sweetly. “There is something different about this dance in particular though..”

When she mentions that something was different about the dance she performed this time, you were lost. You hadn’t noticed anything but to be honest, you also felt like nothing changed about it.

You tilt your head, straightening out a bit as you wonder what she’s referring to, inevitably drawing a blank and asking her what it was.

She chuckled softly, looking off to the side and opening her fan to block her face before walking towards you, hiding something behind her back.

When she reaches you, she pulled out a bouquet of Sakura Blooms, handing them to you with her face hidden behind her fan.

“These flowers are for you.. my dear.”

Once you take the flowers: “ayaka? are you blushing?” “ah.. perhaps— maybe a little bit.”

Lisa

You often find yourself in the Favonius Library, reading countless of books all afternoon alongside your girlfriend, Lisa when she voices her complaints about nobody coming into the library as of late.

It had turned into a regular occurrence, and now the two of you find yourself here for dates as well.

That brings you to where you are now, sharing some tea with your lover whilst reading separate books at one of the library tables.

You had your head down in a book when she closed hers, letting out a yawn before she begins to play with some electricity in her hands.

Noticing her immediately once she closes her book, you pick up your head and look at what she’s doing, noticing that she’s forming something out of electro!

“Oooh what’s that, Lisa?” You ask, leaning forward a bit.

She looks at you once she notices you’ve seen what she was doing, her usual smile appearing on her face as she forms the object she was making quicker and placing it on the book you were reading.

“Hm..? See for yourself.” She says, pointing towards the object on your book before leaning her hands on the table, watching you look down to see… a purple rose!

“Wowww..! It’s so pretty!” You say, reaching your hand out for it before feeling a sudden zap against your fingers- making you pull back with a gasp and look at your hand.

Lisa only chuckled when she watched this, making you blush a bit out of embarrassment.

“Did you feel the spark, cutie~?”

Afterwards: “lisa! thats not funny!” “awh.. well what did you expect cutie~?” “..staaaaaaahhhp…”

aaaaaaah it’s currently 1:50 AM 😭😭I’m so sorry if this is out of character or doesn’t make sense, I was a little out of it while making it tonight since I’m a bit tired.

Reblogs are deeply appreciated!

[isackwhy]

How do we feel about Isaac with a really shy kinda person, like all pink and soft kinda aesthetic?

Think it would lowkey be so cute 🩷🤞

omg yes opposite aesthetic couples ily

isaacwhy x soft aesthetic! reader

the first thing he noticed is how much pink you wore

you had like a pink bow in your hair the first time he saw you and then he saw your outfit and he was amazed

him in his custom black cargo pants and gamersupps shirt he felt like a moron

anyway u guys hit it off. obviously.

u remind me of a fairy???

like it’s sweet but the first time he said it u were confused

“you remind me of a fairy, baby.”

“huh? a fairy?” you say, ironically plucking a dandelion from the group chat house’s lawn

isaac just smiles fondly to himself, “yeah. imma buy you some wings. agh!” he yells, pretending he has fairy wings as he ran around his front yard

anything pink also reminds him of u

will send u photos of things and be like “u want this? it’s pink.”

“stop buying me things.”

“i already bought it.”

because ur really shy, isaac barely leaving the house is perfect

u usually hide away in his room, napping when he’s editing only to wake up to a random yell from him

which he’d immediately apologize for

he really really wanted u to get along w the guys

but ur shy so that took a bit

i feel like larry would be the most like, persistent in trying to make you feel comfortable

u get invited to one of their movie nights

it was a horror movie and u immediately regretted saying yes but u couldn’t back out

isaac held u the whole time once he realized u we’re not fucking w the shit on screen

larry felt bad

anyway isaac lovessss when you show him new clothes

or new bows if u wear those

i’m trying so hard all my friends are emo and so am i i’m going based off pinterest

loves when u wear dainty little rings

or if u wear chunky rings like i do he loves that as well

i hope this is good omfg <3

[kuwdora]

Witcher Recs - Villains & Bad Guys Edition, part 1

Please enjoy these 23 fic recs featuring Emhyr, Dijkstra, Radovid, Vilgefortz, and the Wild Hunt. I tried to indicate what witcher canon is predominant but sometimes people blend the canons. I'm a voracious reader when my brain lets me read, and I read so many different things. I have many tastes! I haven't done a witcher recs post since 2022 and I have 18 billion more recs in the pipeline that I had collected since like 2021.

With any luck and squeeful motivation I'll share more villain recs in the future.

These recs feature mostly rarepairs. I'm still experimenting with formatting these recs on tumblr, let me know what y'all think on that front. Hope you enjoy the fic!

This got pretty long so I'm putting it under a cut.

Emhyr

Prickly Urchin by @seventfics. Game canon. Dijkstra/Emhyr. 2200w. Pre-relationship and tagged ‘Shady Rich Parties with Questionable Ends.’ Based the prompt ‘cursed’ and Dijkstra meets a prickly Duny. Few people still alive can say they've met the emperor before his ascension to the Nilfgaardian throne. A young Count Sigismund Dijkstra is one of them. It's just that neither of them knew.

A great little AU/missing scene, tackles the premise of these two meeting shortly after the Law of Surprise in a great way.

the sweetest flower by @witch-and-her-witcher. Ambigious canon. Emhyr/Yennefer. 700w. Explicit. Oral sex, cunnilingus, power dynamics. Satisfaction comes when Emhyr relinquishes power.

The way Cee opened up my brain with this ficlet made me gorge myself on everything in the Emhyr/Yen tag after I first read this. The possibilities of this pairing, whew. This ficlet sdlfjasldfkjasldfkjasl.

Quills by @bittydragon. Game canon. Emhyr/Geralt. 7500w. Teen. PTSD, Flashbacks, nonsexual touch. Emhyr can feel the quills and claws growing from underneath his skin again. It’s only a matter of time before they burst out—so it’s lucky that a witcher has ended up in his rooms.

There’s so much great Emhyr/Geralt fic out there, and I’m such a fan of this one because of Geralt managing to soothe Emhyr during an anxiety attack.

Animal Symbiosis by @seventfics. Game canon. Emhyr/Dandelion. 3400w. Teen. Soul bond, Fake/pretend relationship. An emperor and a bard accidentally tie their souls together.

I can’t get enough of where sevent’s ideas take me. This pairing sounds wild on the surface and it is but I am so fucking compelled by the dynamic, esp when it’s been an accidental bonding.

Wild Hunt

Schneeweißblind by jo_writes_fic. Game canon. Emhyr/Eredin. 2200w. Explicit. Temperature play, political sex, unsafe sex. Pre-TW3. Eredin’s been coming to Emhyr’s temporary court in Vizima for several months now, about once a fortnight. At first it was to weasel information out of Emhyr, to try and find Cirilla, but the elf quickly learned that Emhyr knew less than the king of the wild hunt himself about his daughter’s whereabouts. And once he realized that, their meetings turned into the pretence of a tentative political alliance to cover up the carnal truth of what really happens when Eredin deigns to visit. Ice magic and masochist Emhyr.

My brain whited out from how brilliant this fic is and I think it changed my brain for the hornier.

Plaything by @eatingcroutons. Game canon. Geralt/Wild Hunt. 100 words. Explicit. Rape. Voyeurism. Eredin and his Riders enjoy making use of Geralt in their down time.

😈😈😈

Outplayed by zemyr. Game canon. Geralt/Wild Hunt. 100 words. Explicit. Rape, size difference. Remix of crou’s Plaything.

🔥🔥🔥 This drabble lives rent free in my brain.

Commander’s Discretion by @witch-and-her-witcher. Game canon. Eredin/Geralt. 100 words. Explicit. Anal fingering. Eredin has a soft spot for pretty, lethal things under his possession.

😳 Cee still making me go wild with this drabble.

Radovid

Spymasters and secrets by @dancingwiththefae. Show canon. Radovid. Radovid/Dijkstra. 3400w. Explicit. BDSM, daddy kink, impact play. Radovid always pushed and pushed Dijkstra. Sometimes he needed to be put in his place.

Faye serving up a heaping mess of with this messy messy Radovid with Dijkstra. I could have put this in the Dijkstra section but ahhhh I wanted it here with the Radovid fic. 🔥

Villains Aren’t Born, They’re Made by ALJordan. Game canon. Radovid/OC, Radovid & Philippa. Mother/son relationship. A storm counts omens as Radovid hunts Philippa Eilhart to stand trial for treason.

The worldbuilding with the OC and vibes and characterizations in this fic are outstanding.

The Shade of Your Eyes by @kuwdora. Game canon Radovid & Philippa. Post game, canon AU. Body horror, existentialism, magical theory as torture. He remembers the weight of the crown that used to sit upon his head but he doesn’t remember his own name. Anger and resentment curdles because he cannot recall his mother’s face or the last food he ate before he died but he knows the source his ire. It originates from the woman who chortles when she sits at the table. Her laugh stokes the rage in his disembodied soul.

Philippa tortures Radovid’s soul. Radovid POV. I couldn’t help but play around with the darkfic idea for Phil getting some revenge.

Don't worry I have a whole other stack of Philippa fic to rec later.

Dijkstra

You Seem To Enjoy The Feeling by galactic_roses. Game canon. Dijkstra/Gaunter. 2800w. Explicit. Dijkstra has made a deal with a merchant of sorts in exchange for something he values above all else: information. However, the price he has to pay is not quite what he was expecting, and now he has to face the consequences of his words. Sharing a body, smut, body horror, some more tags,

My favorite tag from the author: dijkstra is an adult he can enter into a sus contract with a sort of demon man if he wants to. This is like the most galaxy brained rare pair idea and can’t stop thinking about it when I consider rare pairs that changed my brain.

Diagram: Master’s Weapon Repair Kit by butt_muncher_seven. Game canon. Dijkstra/Geralt. D/s, PWP, 2500w. Djikstra knew men the way Geralt knew monsters; how to kill them, how to hunt them, what their motivations were, what they were going to do next. And in Geralt he saw a man about to do something incredibly rash and self-destructive. A normal man would've gone home, drunk himself stupid and got in a fist fight with the nearest person he could beat. Maybe he'd recover, maybe he'd burn his life down around him, because the chaos of such upheaval was worse than the certainty of reprisals, of consequences. It was the kind of thing a skilled spymaster knew how to counteract proactively. For a less valuable player he had less personal means of redress, but for Geralt… Geralt required a personal touch.

This Dijkstra fic is my everything and I fling the link to anyone I can because it’s so fucking good.

Hostages by @limerental. Isengrim/Dijkstra. Book canon. 26k. Mature. Rescue missions, fairy tale elements. When Isengrim Faoiltiarna's commando is taken captive by the Aen Elle, Sigismund Dijkstra must play unlikely hero in order to come to his rescue.

Lim’s written so much great Isengrim/Dijkstra that I want to rec it all but if you are a fan of some plot and amazing storytelling, hostages is a great gateway. Click to see Dijkstra’s feelings for Isengrim as he mounts a rescue for his old elven husband.

He Comes With Gifts by @bittylildragon. Game canon. Dijkstra/Geralt. 4800w. Explicit. Slice of Life, King Dijkstra, snarky Geralt, PTSD and more. A little slice of life with King Dijkstra and his sometimes-resident witcher boyfriend.

I live for bratty snarky Geralt and Dijkstra putting him in his place. It’s fucking delicious and hot.

Bath by GilliganGoodfellow. Dijkstra and Bart. 1200w. Mature. Fluff and humor, slice of life. Dijkstra gets a relatively good idea of how his evening is going to go when, while descending into the basement to check on his troll, he slips on the ladder.

I can’t help but love anything with Bart and Dijkstra and this is so cute and lovely.

Bloody little beast by @gleaming_silence. Game canon. 100 words. Gen. Domestic Gruff. Dijkstra with a kitten. Even after Geralt broke his other leg, daily life goes on for Sigi Reuven and Novigrad’s underworld never sleeps.

This fic was written for me so I love it. Cutest drabble for a Novigrad crime lord.

Degradation for degradation by @limerental. Book canon. 1700w. Explicit. Geralt/Dijkstra. Humiliation, facials. Over a decade later, Dijkstra finally has the opportunity to repay the humiliation Geralt subjected him to in the wake of the Thanned coup. He doesn't expect both of them to like it so much.

I can’t get enough of this Geralt and Dijkstra dynamic. Eating it up with a spoon and always wanting more.

Vilgefortz

The Need For Love, Revolting by ptork66. Show canon. Rience/Vilgefortz. 2200w. Explicit. Dubcon, posessive sex, choking, drugging, bdsm. Vilgefortz wants to consume Rience like Rience’s fire consumes the air.

🔥🔥🔥 Fucked up fic for a fucked up pairing. All the kuwdos from me.

the mirror man by seasofglass. Show canon. Rience/Vilgefortz, 12,000w. Mature. Canon divergence, d/s, manipulation. When a mysterious benefactor frees Rience from prison after the fall of Cintra, he decides to play along in his dangerous game and try to further gain Vilgefortz' favor. Little did he know that playing with fire was the fastest way to also get burned by it.

This is a messy intense look at Rience getting swept up in Vilgefortz’ plans. The shaving scene drives me up the wall in the best way. I love me posessive fuckedupness in this pairing.

Yours, lock and key by zemyr. Ambiguous canon. 100w. Explicit. Rience/Vilgefortz. Master/Servant, magical sex toys. prompt: possessiveness kink deluxe while fucking.

Zemyr’s fic melts my brain in the best way, and the drabbles are 100 words of hotness.

Staves by @sassaffrassa. Show canon. Geralt/Vilgefortz. 100w. Explicit. Object insertion. inappropriate use of vilgefortz's magical staff.

😈 This drabble gets me cackling.

Ouroboros by @kuwdora. Show/book canon blend. Geralt/Vilgefortz. 20,000w. Explicit. Show/book canon blending, fanon continental art history, illusions, sexual fantasy, dubcon, masturbation, d/s, body worship. Geralt turns Vilgefortz proposition down at Thanedd. Vilgefortz makes a Geralt painting and masturbates to it and it spirals into an elaborate sexual fantasy.

Okay this is the fic that ate my brain while writing it last summer. It has layers of book and show references, literary inversions and way too many metaphors.

You know that tumblr post "you're so obsessed with imagery and symbolism, you stupid homo"? That's this me with this fic, lmao.

So come for 20k of Vilgefortz wanking to the Geralt fantasy in his head. Warning that the fic seemed to have driven the 8 people who managed to read and finish it and sounded insane after reading so take it with a horny grain of salt.

Previously on Kuwdora's Witcher Recs:

Istredd Recs

❤️❤️❤️

[ox1-lovesick]

🏹 he loves me not - p.sh

pairing. bf!sunghoon x gn!reader genre. angst, hurt, lovers to exes, exes to strangers warnings. unrequited love (?) half assed writing, mentions of food wc. 669

type. drabble

a/n. I know I said I don't write for enha anymore (which I don't) but I started moving my drafts to google docs and found this from over a year ago 😭 it was almost done so I edited it a bit. I do have more drafts for enha, if I finish them I'll probably post them too

Somehow, being in a relationship feels exactly the same as being single does. There's no one next to you when you wake up in the morning, no one to keep you company while you eat breakfast, no one to check in on you during the day and ask if you've been drinking enough water, no one to wish you goodnight and cuddle with until the sun rises again the next day, and then do it all over again.

At least not after your honeymoon phase; he was all over you when you'd first started dating. Sunghoon let you know that he loved you every single day. Whether he sent flowers to your home with handwritten messages or simply asked how your day was, you never felt out of place in his arms; in fact, it was the only place you felt fully at home in. Sunghoon was your definition of love; you didn't know what it was before he came into your life.

But these days, you're forgetful. You forgot what it feels like to be held by him; the embrace that greeted you every night when he came home slowly lost its warmth until it felt like his blood ran cold, and then he didn't bother to acknowledge you at all.

You forgot what his voice sounds like. You've never known 4 hours to come and go quicker than when you were on a call with him. The space between hello and goodbye was a blur of nothing but smiles and laughter. He'd beg you, "Just five more minutes" until the birds are chirping as the sunlight seeps through your curtains, and even then he wasn't tired of talking to you. The last time he called you was three months ago.

You've even forgotten what he looks like. The mole on the bridge of his nose—or maybe it was the corner of his lip—that you adored more than any feature on his face Endless coos, and that left him pink, bashful, and giggly. There was nothing that put Sunghoon in a better mood than when you'd fuss over his beauty spots and litter them with kisses. Every time you mention how pretty you find them, the thought of getting them removed is all that crosses his mind

He's been slowly moving out of your apartment, bit by bit. Asking for a hoodie of his you stole back, books, and stationery, he left so he could work on the weekends he spent with you and make their way to his dorm with him, the scent of his cologne on your bedsheets dissipating until the bitter stench of laundry detergent is all that's left. He never brings anything for you any more, but he'll always leave with something, and that will be the last you see of it—see of him—until he's back to take something else from you.

He'll sit there and watch his phone ring. Your name, decorated with a red heart he felt too guilty to remove, lights up his screen for the third time that day, and he'll wait for it to go to voicemail, then he'll wait some more to tell you he was busy and will call you when he can—even though you both know he won't.

The guys know now to stop asking about you; never mention how long it's been since they've seen you; never ask when you're going to visit again; and never ask how you are. They won't get an answer because Sunghoon doesn't know.

It hurts more than you'd ever imagined—probably because you'd never imagined it at all. The thought of your love turning rotten never crossed your mind, ever. A part of you is still in denial, believing his excuses and telling yourself that he does still love you, even when he hasn't said it in months.

But no matter how many flowers you pluck to the stigma or dandelions you make a wish on, your head knows the answer, and so does your heart.

He loves you not.

🗯️ taglist. @k-labels @kpopcontentcreatorsclub @kflixnet @fairy-yeo @tsxkkis @kynrki @hoonfever @haknom @soov

★ OX1-LOVESICK all rights reserved. do not copy, distribute, translate, alter or repost my work without my explicit permission.

[blueteller]

So, I discovered the "random incorrect quotes generator" and had some fun with it. Here you go 😂

Alberu: So. Choi Han and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us Cale: *sighs* …What did Choi Han do? Alberu: He chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and… Choi Han: *smiles innocently* Do you need a steering wheel, Cale-nim?

Cale: We need to get through this locked door. Bud, give me your money Bud: …Ok, here? Cale: *pockets it* Thanks. Choi Han, kick down the door Bud: …

Eruhaben: While I'm gone - Raon, you're in charge. Raon: Yes!!! Eruhaben: *whispers* On, you're the one actually in charge. On: *whispers back* Obviously.

Basen: Where's Lily? She isn't answering Violan: I'll call Basen: Father and I have both tried six times ea- Violan: Lily! Lily: *in distance* Yes?

Cale: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'? Choi Han: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated- Raon: Smad! Cale & Choi Han: … (How can he be so cute)

Tasha: Alberu, tell Mary about the birds and the bees Mary: *stares silently* Alberu: *sweats* Alberu: …They're disappearing at an alarming rate

Cale: What doesn't kill me should run, because now I'm f***ing pissed Gods: *shiver* (Why do I hear boss music-?)

On: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life Raon: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind? On: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die. Hong: …edible! Cale: *shivers in the distance*

Cale: Would you stab your best friend in the leg for 10 billion gallons? Choi Han: *thinks carefully* If you stabbed me, you could just heal me with a potion, and then we could buy another big-a** villa somewhere Clopeh: *enthusiastic* You could stab me too, and then you'd have 20 billion! Choi Han: *pulls out his sword with a smile* …Good thinking

*Archie and Paseton sitting in jail together* Paseton: So, who should we call for help? Archie: …I'd call Cale, but I think I feel safer in jail

Rasheel: *sarcastic* How petty can you get? Mila: *smiling* I once edited historical documents to win an argument I was wrong about Rasheel: *scared* What the f-

Alberu: ...You know those things will kill you, right? Eruhaben: *pouring himself a glass of vodka* That's the point. Choi Han: *smoking 10 cigarettes at once* We're trying to speed up the process. Cale: *nods while eating raw cookie dough*

Witira: You have to apologize to Paseton Archie: …Fine. Archie: 'Unf*** you', or whatever

Cale: Looking left cause you don't treat me right Choi Han: Looking right because you left Raon: Looking up cause you let me down Alberu: Looking down cause you f***ed up White Star: *bleeding from having his arm ripped off* …What is wrong with you guys??

Alberu: *walks into his bedroom* …Hello, people who do not live here. Cale: Hey. Choi Han: Hello. Raon: Hi cookie prince! Hong: *chewing* Alberu: You know I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only, right? On: *shrugs* We were out of cookies

Cale: I've come to a point in my life where I need a stronger word than 'f***' Raon: Human, you poopy dumbo!! Cale: … Cale: …that works, I guess

Alberu: Instructor-nim, why do you always wear black? Choi Han: So that when someone points at your black clothes and asks whose funeral it is, having a look around the room and saying 'Haven't decided yet' is a valid response. Alberu: *thoughtfully* Hm. I should try that at the next nobles meeting

Shapeshifter: *transforms to look like Eruhaben* Eruhaben: *hairflips* Fool, are you blind? You look nothing like me. First off, I'm taller. Secondly, I DO NOT look so sleep deprived. Also, if you could drag comb through that hair you would be a 7 at most, everyone knows I'm a constant 10-

Raon: Human, you'll have a hard time believing this because it never happens - but it seems I made a mistake! Cale: *sighs* ...What did you do this time?

Deruth: You see, children, nothing in life is free- Lily: Love is free! Basen: Knowledge is free Violan: Artistic inspiration is free Cale: *smirks* Everything is free if you simply loot it

White Star: I learned some very valuable lessons from this. Sheritt: I'm guessing they are all horrible distortions on the lessons you actually should've taken away. White Star: Death isn't real, and I'm basically God.

(Cage remix) Cage: *drinking* I learned some very valuable lessons from this. Taylor: ...I'm guessing they are all horrible distortions on the lessons you actually should've taken away? Cage: Death isn't real, and neither is God God of Death: *sobbing in the distance*

Deruth: Cale… just how many kids do you have? Cale: …Biologically, emotionally, or legally? Deruth: 0_0

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 5

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Author's Note: I tried a little something different with this, in which there's a convo that happens in Instagram DMs so I made like an edit and posted the screenshots as a way for you guys to read them! But I also put the conversation in the image description for each screenshot if it's easier to read that way! Let me know if you guys like it and I should continue doing that!

The brief nap and unexpected conversation with Rafe had sobered Isla up by the time she joins her friends in the backyard once again, all of whom are tipsy or beyond. As soon as he spots her, JJ shoves a cup of beer in Isla’s hand, which she accepts without a fight as she settles down at the base of a tree where her friends are sitting. The party around them rages on, people dancing and chatting and swimming and playing games, the music drifting through the air but nearly drowned out by the noise of everything else.

As she stretches her legs out, Pope sniffs the air and glances at her questioningly. “Were you smoking?”

Lips on the rim of her cup, her gaze darts to Pope’s, mildly surprised, while JJ pipes up, “Without me?”

“Not weed,” Pope tells him with a roll of his eyes.

Isla slowly lowers the cup. “Yeah. Bummed one off some guy,” she answers with a casual shrug.

Pope purses his lips at her. “Those things will kill you, you know.”

Widening her eyes, Isla gasps. “Really? I had no idea,” she exclaims, feigning shock and dissolving into laughter when Pope shoves her.

“Don’t come crying to me if you get lung cancer,” he says, leaning back on his hands resting on the grass, wincing when Cleo smacks him on the chest.

“Don’t joke,” she tells him pointedly, looking up at him with a half-hearted glare. He leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead in apology, which seems to satisfy her. She lets out a long, content sigh. “This summer is going to be amazing, I can feel it,” Cleo  says from where she lays with her head on Pope’s lap. “The outdoor movies, boat rides, barbecues, concerts—I’m ready for it.”

Kie raises her cup of beer in cheers. “Back to OBX life, baby,” she grins.

Isla was of the same mindset, smiling into her next sip of beer as she thought of the coming months. It’s the last summer before college, and while in between all of the fun Isla and Kie will be working at their family’s restaurant, Isla is still looking forward to the summer.

They sat together, discussing their plans for the summer—most of them with each other—as the party continued on around them. Isla watches people jump into the pool, the group of them sitting far enough away from the splash zone, and she feels a smile tugging on her lips as she closes her eyes and leans her head up against the tree. The weather is perfect, warm with a cool breeze every now and then, and she lets out a long sigh of relief before taking another sip of beer.

“Midsummers is also coming up,” Sarah comments, prompting Isla to open her eyes while Kie groans.

“Don’t remind me,” her sister mutters, twirling a dandelion between her fingers, face scrunching in distaste. 

Isla gives a shrug. “I don’t mind it.”

Kie’s nose wrinkles. “You enjoy being surrounded by rich people who spend the night trying to one-up each other by flashing how much money they have?”

JJ snorts as he, Pope, and Cleo rearrange their sitting positions to engage in a game of cards. Isla rolls her eyes at Kie. “No. I just have fun dressing up and eating good food. Sue me.”

The food at Midsummers was always top tier, especially when Pope’s dad was running the oyster bar. “You’re such a girly girl,” Kie quips.

“Why is that a bad thing?” Isla retorts, arching an eyebrow. “Where else am I gonna get a chance to wear high heels and a dress? The Chateau?” She gets to her feet, feeling a little miffed at Kie’s comment. She and her sister share a lot of similarities, but they’re also plenty different; one of them being that Isla will never pass up an opportunity to dress up for an event. While she doesn’t particularly enjoy all of the events that they attend in Figure Eight, most of her joy comes from the process of getting ready, dressing up, doing her makeup. She’s always been that way, and no one has ever faulted her for it. Why should they?

But sometimes Kie’s distaste for all things Figure Eight gets the better of her, and she’ll get the tendency to make Isla feel bad for her not caring as deeply as Kie does. She’s a Pogue, just like her sister and friends, but is it so wrong to like some things about Figure Eight? Her friends don’t think so—of course, they don’t. If they did, John B wouldn’t be dating Sarah, who they all welcomed into their fold, nor would they be spending their Friday night at a party here, either. Kie can just take it too far sometimes.

“Where are you going?” she frowns up at Isla.

“I need some chips,” she says, which is only half true. She kind of doesn’t want to talk to Kie at the moment. It’s nothing serious, just some sisterly annoyance which she’ll get over in the next five minutes. She is kind of hungry, though.

John B pushes himself up, too. “I’ll come with.” Standing straight, he reaches down to brush some of Sarah’s blonde locks away from her face. “Want anything?”

She shakes her head, smiling. “I’m okay.”

“I’m good too,” JJ tells John B with a smirk.

“Same,” Pope and Cleo add, twin shit-eating grins on their faces. John B merely flips them all off and joins Isla on the trek towards the house, throwing his arm over her shoulders. 

“You good, buddy?” John B asks her as they walk by the pool.

Isla nods, chin lifting slightly. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” she responds, wincing only slightly as they pass by the speaker that’s blasting music. In a mumble, she adds, “Jesus, that’s loud.”

“Okay, grandma,” John B snickers, which results in Isla digging her elbow into his ribs while sipping the beer. “You looked a little ticked off at Kie.”

They walk into the house, weaving around party goers, his arm still around her shoulders in brotherly affection. Isla sighs, unsurprised that John B caught her expression or slight shift in demeanor. The guy is the Pogue-anointed leader of their group; he’s always had the ability to be in-tune with his friends. “You know her,” she says as they approach the kitchen. “She doesn’t mean anything by it, really, but she’ll make those subtle comments about me that almost make it seem like she’s judging me because some of my interests are different than hers.” With a roll of her eyes, she shoots him a look and adds, “Not Pogue enough, I guess.”

“Ah,” John B says with a sage nod of his head. “Whether she means anything by it or not, she loves you all the same, Isla. We all do,” he says with a smile, giving her arm a squeeze. “But if her comments bother you, just let her know. I doubt she’d ever want to hurt your feelings if she can help it.”

“You’re right,” she sighs again. He made the non-issue seem easily resolvable, which Isla’s sure it is. 

The kitchen counter is littered with snacks, a lot of which are opened already and have been dug through. There’s even a bag of marshmallows, and Isla pops one into her mouth as John B stands a few feet away, raising his eyebrows at her expectantly as he opens his mouth wide, silently signaling her. With a laugh as she chews the one in her mouth, Isla grabs another marshmallow and tosses it towards him, grinning widely when John B catches it in his mouth.

“Incredible,” she gushes exaggeratedly with a clap of her hands, John B taking a bow in response that only makes her laugh more. Turning to the several bags of chips on the counter, Isla asks him, “Which one should we steal for ourselves?”

John B hums thoughtfully, lifting his hat up to run his fingers through his hair before fitting the cap back down. “How about—”

“I was hoping to run into you here, Isla.” She freezes at the familiar voice, gaze flickering up to see Carlo standing on the other side of the counter, dark eyes fixed on her. Oh, fucking hell. “I wanted to—”

“Nope,” Isla cuts him off with a sharp shake of her head, lips pursing at the way he frowns at being interrupted. Screw him. “I have nothing to say to you, and I promise there’s nothing you can say that I’d wanna hear. So, no.”

Carlo’s forehead creases even more as his frown deepens. “Don’t you think you’re being childish?”

“Hey, buddy,” John B says from next to her, raising his eyebrows at Carlo. “She said she’s not interested. Take the hint and walk away.”

“Fuck off, Routledge, I wasn’t talking to you,” Carlo scowls and Isla’s stomach twists, dreading that getting him to leave her alone wouldn’t be easy. His eyes flicker back to Isla, and even the counter separating them isn’t creating enough distance. “Come on, Isla. We never got the chance to talk things out.”

She exchanges a look of disbelief with John B, who also looks pissed on her behalf as his narrow eyed stare goes back to Carlo. She half expects John B to walk around the counter and get physical with Carlo. “What the hell are you talking about?” she says to Carlo, exasperated. “What is there to talk about? You cheated. I broke up with you. End of story.”

Her pulse is quickening, wanting him gone, as John B crosses his arms and says to Carlo tightly, “Yeah. End of story. Now leave.”

Carlo’s jaw clenches. He’s around the same height as John B, their stare even as he glares. “This ain’t your damn house, John B.”

“No, but it is mine.”

Isla’s eyes widen, the air whooshing out of her lungs when she sees Rafe entering the kitchen. She’s pretty sure her pulse skitters when she sees the cold expression on Rafe’s features, his gaze on Carlo as he takes a few steps closer. No scowl, no glare, but a chilling look of indifference that contrasted to the hardness of his icy blue eyes. She can’t help but think this look on him is far more intimidating, in addition to how his six-foot-two height towers over Carlo, and even a little bit over John B—who tenses up next to her, like he doesn’t think Rafe’s arrival is a good thing.

When did Isla start thinking it is?

Because she finds herself relaxing upon Rafe’s entry, the tight knot loosening in her chest as he stands a few feet away from Carlo, who has the right mind to look a little frightened. It brings Isla more satisfaction than it should. 

Carlo finds his tongue. “I was just—”

“Leaving? Good choice,” Rafe cuts him off with a nod. When Carlo gapes at him, Rafe arches an eyebrow. He may look calm and collected, but Isla notices the muscle in his jaw jumping, like he’s grinding his teeth together. “She obviously doesn’t want to talk to you. Get the fuck out while your dignity is still intact.” He gives Carlo a slow once over, lips curling back into a sneer. “Whatever little of it there’s left.”

Isla claps her lips together, which had been parted in shock, in order to stifle back a gasping laugh. Her gaze darts to her left to John B, who is watching the whole interaction looking a helpless combination of bewildered, surprised, and wary. She can’t really blame him. Rafe Cameron, of all people, is coming to her defense, and while this isn’t the first time for Isla, it is for John B, and she can only imagine what’s going through his head right now. Probably a bit of the same of what was going through hers that first time.

Right now, though, she stands in the Cameron’s kitchen with her skin warming, watching as Carlo’s jaw works, looking as though he’s genuinely considering telling Rafe to fuck off or, worse, swing at him. She knows for a fact Carlo won’t win that fight. So when he looks at Isla, features tight and a contemptuous look hardening his eyes, she knows that he’s going to leave her alone for now.

He turns and stalks out of the kitchen, his departure making it easier for Isla to breathe as the tension eases out of her shoulders, which sink as she lets out a sigh of relief. Rafe finally turns to look at her, blue eyes meeting her brown, and she watches as the hardness in his gaze melts away, softening as he runs his eyes over like. Almost as if. . . He’s making sure she’s okay.

And then when he subtly arches an eyebrow, Isla knows he’s making sure. 

Heart fluttering erratically, Isla dips her chin in an almost imperceptible nod. Still, she finds herself saying, “Thank you for that.”

“Yeah, very decent of you.” Isla almost startles when John B speaks up, gaze snapping over to her friend. He’s watching Rafe with that same wary look, though there’s that familiar touch of patronization that her friends and Rafe always get when they’re talking to each other. Isla tenses up ever so slightly; she doesn’t think she can handle any sort of confrontation between them right now. Not when John B is her friend and Rafe has been so. . . Different with her. John B lifts his chin. “Very un-Kook-like.”

Rafe’s gaze slides over to John B and immediately his expression shifts, that smug smirk returning that’s always been so condescending. Isla knows she should only see it as that, and yet. . . She can’t help but find it attractive. Oh, God.

“It’s not like you were doing much to help,” Rafe says in return, arching an eyebrow.

John B scoffs while Isla takes a long sip of her beer. “I did the exact same thing as you did, which was just talk to him, by the way.”

Rafe cocks his head to the side, smug. “And who did he actually listen to?”

When Isla notes the narrowing of John B’s eyes, she steps in. “Alright, we’re not having a dick measuring contest, okay?” she says, cheeks flushing ever so slightly at the mere thought of Rafe’s dick. The heat only seems to intensify when his gaze touches her, something intense passing through his eyes in an instant. “Thank you both for your help. Let’s move on.”

She grabs the bag of barbecue flavored chips, grasping John B’s upper arm with her free hand to pull him out of the kitchen. He glares at Rafe until the second when Isla shoves him out of the kitchen, only pausing briefly enough to glance over her shoulder at Rafe. She doesn’t know why she does it until their gazes meet and she finds herself smiling as she mouths, thank you.

And then Isla sees his shoulders relax, the smirk turning into the smallest of smiles as he dips his chin in return, and the fluttering returns to her stomach once more.

“Well, that was fucking weird,” John B remarks as they walk through the back doors and step out into the backyard.

“A little,” Isla lies. She digs through the bag of chips and practically shoves a handful in  her mouth, hoping John B won’t linger on this topic of conversation.

Of course, that’s only wishful thinking, because the moment they arrive back where their friends are sitting, he announces, “Something weird just happened.”

Isla suppresses a sigh as she sits back down, back against the tree, while a chorus of “what?” sound from the others. As John B sits next to Sarah, he informs them, “Well, first, fucking Carlo was here.”

“Who the fuck invited that piece of shit?” JJ asks while Kie looks over at Isla. Whatever annoyance from before disappears as her sister silently, with her eyes, asks if Isla is okay. She just nods in response, giving a small smile.

“Don’t look at me,” Sarah says with a shake of her head, hands raising in defense. “He probably tagged along with someone.”

“Is he still here?” Pope asks, dark eyes darting around the yard, seeking out Isla’s ex.

“No, he left,” John B answers. “Which brings me to the actual weird thing.” Isla holds her breath as he briefly meets Sarah’s gaze before telling the group, “Rafe was the one who kicked Carlo out.”

“Rafe?” Cleo repeats, eyebrows shooting up. “Rafe Cameron?”

JJ shoots her a droll look. “How many Rafes do you know?” he asks, earning the middle finger from Cleo. “You’re telling me King Kook stepped in and helped you?” he adds, glancing at Isla in surprise.

Sarah tilts her head. “I thought my dad was King Kook?” she murmurs, almost to herself, unperturbed by the label. She shakes her head before saying, louder, “You guys, my brother isn’t some villain. He has his moments.”

“As rare as they might be,” Kie adds on with a pointed arch of her eyebrow as her gaze flicks back to Isla.

Their eyes meet and Isla tenses because she can see the clear question in her sister’s eyes, and can see where her thoughts wandered. And right now, Kie is thinking of when Isla had told her how Rafe had helped her out when her car broke down, which the rest of their friends still don’t know about. Adding what just happened now, her friends would have questions, suspicions, and Isla couldn’t honestly refute any of them because of her own changing opinion of Rafe. She couldn’t truthfully tell them it wasn’t a big deal, that it was just a one time thing—because neither of those things were true. At least, not for Isla.

So Isla gives a minute shake of her head, needing Kie to understand what she’s silently telling her. Kiara raises an eyebrow and Isla knows that though Kie remains silent, they will definitely be talking about this later. Isla isn’t looking forward to it.

*****

“So. Spill.”

Isla exhales sharply through her nose, bending down to spit out the toothpaste-tinted water in the sink. As she dries her face, she looks at Kie, who is leaning against the bathroom door frame, arms crossed. Trying not to be too rattled, Isla says nonchalantly, “There’s nothing to spill.”

“Fuck off,” Kie laughs, shaking her head. “You told me he gave you a ride the other week when your car broke down, and tonight he kicked out your ex? Those are nice things,” she emphasizes with a raise of her eyebrows. “And Rafe’s not that nice of a guy.”

Isla shrugs as she rubs and pats moisturizer on her face. “I don’t have an insight into his head, Kie,” she says with a slight chuckle, wanting to brush this conversation off. “I don’t know what he’s thinking. But—” She decides to be honest, meeting her sister’s gaze. “I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, you know? He helped me both times when he didn’t have to, and I appreciate it. That’s all.”

Kie twists her lips to the side, not entirely looking convinced. “It’s still sus,” she says. “Like, at least tonight. Why step in at all? John B was there, it’s not like you were dealing with Carlo on your own.”

As Isla rubs lotion up and down her arms, gaze on the movement of her hands, a ghost of a smile tugs at her lips as she remarks, “Maybe it was his good deed of the month.”

“What?” Kie asks, puzzled.

Isla resists the urge to swallow, and instead chuckles. “Nothing.” She shoots her sister a smile. “Anyway, it’s whatever,” she says, moving past Kie to get out of the bathroom. “Who knows why Rafe does anything?”

Kie snorts, moving into the bathroom for her turn to get ready for the night. It’s a little after two in the morning, their parents fast asleep, and at this point, neither of them are too drunk. Isla hadn’t drank anything after the beer JJ had handed to her, and Kie knows her limits when it comes to drinking. “I guess so,” she muses, tying her hair up into a messy bun.

Isla goes to her own room, shutting the door behind her before climbing into bed, sighing as she slips under the cool sheets. The main room lights are off, but she keeps the colorful LED lights hanging in front of her curtains on, bathing her room in dim colors as she unlocks her phone.

The first thing she does is go on Instagram, scrolling through her notifications to see people liking and commenting on her posts and stories from the party tonight. But her thumb freezes when she notices the top notification, which came in just three minutes ago.

Rafe.Cameron1104 is now following you!

Her eyes widen, the breath stilling in her lungs, even as she tells herself this isn’t a big fucking deal. Because it’s not. Yet, she still clicks on his profile, and before she decides whether or not to follow him back—because she is damn sure her friends will notice—she does a little stalking, feeling heat pool into her cheeks as she does, like she’s doing something wrong.

Still, Isla can’t help but scroll through Rafe’s profile. He doesn’t post that much, but his posts are mostly what she expects them to be; on his family’s yacht, with his friends, some with his family. No selfies, which doesn’t surprise her, but Isla does find herself looking at the solo shots of him, biting the inside of her cheek when she stares a little too long at the shirtless photos that makes her blood heat up in her veins. He’s fit, which is known, with broad shoulders and lean muscles, his torso tight with prominent abs glinting against the sunlight. Enough to make her mouth grow dry.

God, what’s wrong with her?

Why did he follow her? More importantly, why is she freaking out like she’s a middle schooler with a crush? Despite her warring thoughts, Isla scrolls to the top of his profile, thumb hovering over the blue follow button. A bunch of people she knows follow him, though none are her friends—except for Sarah, of course. Isla hesitates before letting out a quiet huff, hoping her friends don’t weirdly check Instagram followings, and presses the follow button before exiting out of the app, locking her phone, and dropping it on her stomach, all in the matter of five seconds. 

She stares, wide eyed, at the ceiling while trying to slow down her foolishly racing pulse, chest rising and falling with every breath she takes. “What the fuck, Isla?” she whispers to herself in the dim lighting of her room, looking at the kaleidoscope of colors reflecting off the ceiling thanks to the LED lights. 

He’s literally just a guy. A guy that, admittedly, her friends don’t like and she shouldn’t, either. Too often have JJ, John B, and Pope gotten into fights, both verbal and physical, with Rafe and his friends. Granted, her friends sometimes instigate the fights just as much as Rafe and his friends do, but the animosity has existed for years now. Which should be reason enough why Isla shouldn’t be engaging with Rafe anymore than she already has. Hell, smoking with him in his room tonight could be considered crossing a line, where her friends are concerned. 

It feels like she’s playing a dangerous game—one where she has no idea what the rules even are.

Her phone suddenly buzzes and Isla’s throat dries as she lifts it, squinting against the bright screen. When she reads the notification, her stomach does a somersault, reading the message Rafe sent her on Instagram. God, why is he awake? Embarrassment floods her cheeks, knowing he received the notification of her follow back right away. Part of her wants to pretend she never got the notification of his message and just go to sleep, but intrigue wins out, and she opens Instagram and goes on her direct messages.

She rolls her lower lip into her mouth, reading those three words with a flutter in her belly, thumbs hovering over the keypad until she figures out how to respond.

Isla takes a deep breath, reading Rafe’s last message a few too many times before exiting out of the app, finding it a good place to let the conversation naturally end. The last thing she needs to keep doing is messaging Rafe Cameron in the middle of the night. So she plugs her phone into the charger and rests it on her bedside, turning away and burrowing herself deeper into her cocoon of blankets, needing sleep to take her away from the turbulent thoughts that surround Rafe.

[fukia]

Fun Peanuts character facts

Linus

Linus used to say “Bang” a lot before he could really talk, mostly to mess with his sister (ie, respond to her pestering) or deal with other people

He gave Violet a bundle of French fries wrapped with a rubber band once…

has a weird set of otherworldly abilities; blowing cubed balloons, talking to leaves (stars too), asking a beachball to return from the ocean if I recall correctly, petting birds and getting them to like him

Linus gets increasingly stronger and more blunt/threatening towards Snoopy for constantly trying to take his blanket

Linus wants to be a doctor most of the time

Offered to shared his blanket with Charlie a few times

Kissed Peppermint patty on the cheek to comfort her; “Like this, sweetie?”

Kissed Frieda’s hand after she expressed that carrying a blanket around isn’t a bad thing

He gives a girl named Eudora his blanket because her smile was cute - he regrets it and fails to retrieve it himself - she kisses him on the cheek, calling him a “sweet babboo” - Eudora is Sally’s friend lol

Schroeder

Charlie introduced piano & Beethoven to him

As a baby, Charlie put him in front of a real piano (as opposed to his toy one) and he cried

He specifically said baseball is one of his loves, besides playing music & Beethoven

Found baby Linus fascinating as he resembled Beethoven

Before Lucy was obnoxious to him, he told Charlie that Lucy has beautiful eyes

Threatened to beat up Lucy if she scratches his piano with her elbows

When Lucy moved briefly, he missed her presence; some say it’s out of character, [I think he doesn’t miss her as a person at all but he does miss the routine of having someone who listens to his classical playing even if it’s for shallow reasons, idk I sorta relate]

Regularly listens to Charlie Brown’s venting back in the day

The one character who stands up for Charlie Brown (multiple times)

Spoke in agreement with the girls that Charlie looked cute surrounded by dandelions

Whatever subtext in that 70’s Blue Boy strip

Charlie Brown

Was briefly a couple (of sorts) with Violet

Violet had a weird mud pie era where she’d serve them to Charlie and Charlie would consume them

Enjoyed messing with the girls back in the day, I’d say he’s capable of being a subtle tease aged up

Has gone on a carnival date with Peppermint Patty

Often cheers up Linus and defends him from Lucy

Often defends and shows interest in Schroeder’s love of music - he went out of his way to save Schroeder’s piano from the kite-eating tree and the sewers after the nonsense Lucy pulled

Was the original one to lean on Schroeder’s piano, they often engage in actual, normal conversation

Often seen reading to Schroeder Beethoven’s biography or Mozart’s

Schroeder and Charlie Brown tried to play music together a few times but they could never find fitting music for the improvised instruments Charlie would bring

Makes conversation with the kite-eating tree; has offered to feed it a kite in defeat and also bit the tree out of revenge (the tree world fall in a following strip)

Has some sort of mommy thing goin on

“Poor, sweet baby”

Edited to add: Lucy has a weird thing for Charlie’s “toesies”

Sally

Started off kinda picked on by the other kids like her brother but grows up to be more assertive

Has a penchant for comedy

She talks to a fucking school building and it “talks” to her

The school building falls for her???

She talks to the new building after the previous one fucking collapses

Marcie

Had a guy named Floyd call her “lambcake” and cute

She thinks she’s not cute

When she’s angry, she hits well

Definitely has a fighting spirit and a stubbornness that flares up

Says she doesn’t like sports but does decently at it

Speaks fluent French

Edited to add: says she’s not ready for a boyfriend but would marry Charlie Brown

Franklin

He’s like the nicest character

He’s the sanest; he left Charlie’s neighborhood thinking it was weird

I just think it’s funny how he actually finds the running gag personality traits of the others so strange, I had to include him despite his minimal appearances

Pig Pen

Got picked on a bit in the early days for his dirtiness; but he handles it better than Charlie Brown, he doesn’t seem to really mope

Apparently enjoys cleaning and taking baths, he just gets dirty real quick

Charmed Peppermint Patty into falling in love (the two enter a sort of unofficial relationship)

Peppermint Patty

Has a sentimentality that mirrors Chuck

Her dad calls her a “rare gem”

Says she likes beautiful material things, earrings, and certain sparkly outfits too

Originally pierced only one ear

Her nose is big and she’s real sad about it

Really likes to take moments with Charlie to be sentimental; often talks about how she wishes to be “beautiful”

She admits with embarrassment that she broke down upon seeing the red-headed girl’s face, because she sees why Chuck loves the girl instead of her (Linus kisses her cheek to reassure her; all around sweet strip)

Called Lucy “Lucille”

I have more to go, but those are some interesting things I’ve read in the comic strips so far.

[riverkaterina]

Today I bring to youuuu 🥁🥁🥁🥁

KOTW INCORRECT QUOTES!!

Wrath x Emilia edition, more coming in the future (envy x Camilla and just general character ones)

Emilia: Why can’t we all just get along?

Wrath: Because most of us are assholes, Emilia.

Wrath: I think we should kiss.

Emilia: And I think you should die but we don’t always get what we want.

Wrath: Okay, but what if we went to dinner not as friends this time?

Emilia: AS ENEMIES?!

Wrath: ...

Wrath: You are the love of my life and I would do anything within reason to make you happy.

Emilia: I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep.

Wrath: I said within reason, Emilia. How about I murder that guy?

Emilia: So murder is in reason but proper self care isn't?

Wrath: Well, duh. What kind of question is that?

Emilia: Wrath and I are no longer dating.

Wrath: Emilia, that’s a horrible way of telling people we’re married.

Wrath: What makes a bigger memory than a passionate kiss?

Wrath: A stab wound.

Emilia: Let's just agree to both say we're sorry on the count of three.

Emilia: One... two... three.

Wrath: ...

Emilia: ...

Emilia: See, now I'm just disappointed in both of us.

Cop: Can you describe the person who stabbed you?

Wrath: Lithe, spirited, outgoing, and not afraid to speak her mind. She was a raw sexual force and she knew it. She was a dandelion fluff on a summer day, gone in an instant, leaving you with nothing but a memory of her touch and the faint taste of strawberries on your lips.

Cop: …Great, we have a motive, but we still need a description.

Emilia: We all have our demons.

Emilia, grabbing Wrath: This one’s mine.

Wrath, admiring a sleeping Emilia: You’re so cute.

Emilia, sleepily: I could beat your ass.

Wrath, lovingly: I know.

Wrath: This is a very powerful artifact. You’d be messing with some forces we don’t fully understand.

Emilia: That sounds like a dare to me.

Wrath: Oh my god.

Wrath: I could kill you if I wanted.

Emilia: Yeah? So could any other human being. So could a dog. So could a dedicated duck. You aren't special.

Emilia: Wrath, we tried things your way.

Wrath: No, we didn't.

Emilia: I did it in my head and it didn't work.

Emilia: Why are you burning our marriage certificate!?

Wrath: Good luck trying to return me without a receipt.

Wrath: *casually taking four stairs at a time*

Emilia, falling behind, taking two stairs at a time: Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fu-

Emilia: Snow got me feeling some type of way.

Wrath: That's hypothermia.

Emilia: Damn, the paramedics told me it was the magic of Christmas.

Wrath and Emilia: I am so horny and angry all the time.

Emilia: Hi.

Fauna: Hey, did you do what I said? Did you tell him?

Emilia: I did.

Fauna: And what did he say?

Emilia: “Thank you.”

Fauna: You’re totally welcome. What’d he say?

Emilia: he said, “Thank you.” I said “I love you” and Wrath said, “Thank you.”

Emilia: You’re alive.

Wrath: No need to sound so disappointed. (This one is kind of cheating bc in the first book literally "I thought you were dead" "sorry to disappoint you, witch.")

Emilia: My hands are cold.

Wrath: Here, let me hold them.

Emilia: My lips are cold too.

Wrath: *covers Emilia's mouth with his hand*

Wrath: *Turns on the kitchen light*

Emilia: *Sitting at the table, eating bread*

Wrath: It’s four in the morning.

Emilia: Turn the light back off.

Wrath: It's pretty cold outside.. wanna hold hands? We should stay close.

Emilia blushing: Okay.

Vittoria: It's fucking summer.

Emilia: Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Wrath: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Emilia: But you’re always acting stupid?

Wrath: ...

Wrath: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

Emilia: Go to hell!

Wrath: Oh! I’ve been there, thank you. I found it quite lovely.

Wrath: Punch me in the face.

Emilia: ...Punch you?

Wrath: Yes, punch me, didn’t you hear me?

Emilia: I always hear ‘punch me in the face’ while you’re speaking but it’s usually just subtext.

Wrath: I love you

Emilia: how many people have you said that to?

Wrath: everyone

Emilia: what?

Wrath: I told everyone that I love you

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly recap | October 16th-29th 2023 (Part One)

I've got a banner now! What do you guys think? 😃 Two weeks of fics, it's a long one, I hope you enjoy!

(Edit: yes it says PART ONE because apparently I've read so many fics Tumblr can't handle the amount of links 😭)

Complete

I Was Betting On Forever (But Forever Comes And Goes) by callmenewbie/ @callmenewbie (Car accident | 4K | Teen): Eddie gets a call from Buck in the middle of the night and it’s about as bad as one would expect

Take My Hand and Let’s Pretend by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (Getting together | 4K | General): Christopher shows Eddie and Buck how to make braided rings, Eddie does something unexpected, and Buck loses a bit of his sanity over it all.

Love and Bullets Both Shatter Hearts (But Only One Can Put You Back Together) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Spies AU | 11K | Explicit): Agent [Redacted] Diaz is the best at what he does. Usually. But lately there's this real pain in the ass* who's been ruining his missions: Code Name "Buck." *stupidly handsome and annoyingly talented rival spy

Guilt Takes a Lunch Break at Two in the Morning by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (PWP, Sexual Fantasy | 1,8K | Explicit): Eddie's married, and he's never going to cheat. Even if his wife hasn't been around. Buck knows Eddie's married, and he's probably not into men, and he won't ruin the best friendship he's ever had. Doesn't mean either of them can't imagine other things.

Direct Deposit by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (PWP, Buck/Connor/Kameron but it's still endgame Buddie | 10K | Explicit): Buck's asked to contribute the old-fashioned way.

in the middle by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (PWP, Buck/Eddie/Natalia but endgame Buddie | 4K | Explicit): Or, Eddie walks in on friends with benefits Buck and Natalia. Buck and Eddie figure out their feelings and then the three of them have some fun.

🔥 Your Love is an Oil Slick (It Glows like Rainbows, It Stains My Soul) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Canon Divergent - Supernatural Elements, Ghost Buck | 67K | Explicit): When Eddie's son claims he has an imaginary friend, Eddie doesn't think much of it. Christopher is seven, it's what kids do. But then weird things start happening around the house, and Eddie starts dreaming about a handsome blue-eyed man. Turns out, Christopher's friend isn't so imaginary. Their house is haunted.

🔥 my words are paper tigers by hattalove/ @hattalove (Time Loop, Canon Divergent | 20K | Teen): or: buck breaks up with eddie, even if it means losing a part of himself, because it's the right thing to do. the universe decides to test that conviction.

all i wanna do right now. by dylaesthetics (Season 6, Coming Out | 4K | Teen): Eddie starts acting out of character. Buck worries.

remember to remember me by Daffi_990_ao3/ @hannah-ruth-990 (Canon-Divergent, Post-Lightning, Amnesia | 31K | Explicit): Buck and Eddie finally get together only for lightning to strike a few days later, leaving Buck with no memories of them ever becoming a couple.

toy with me by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (PWP, Post-S6 | 2K | Explicit): Or, the one where Eddie accidentally walks in on Buck using his new toy.

i am never without it by Maira/ @carrierofthepaperclips (Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Buck takes them out slowly, reverently, giving them their own place on the bedspread. It takes him longer than he thinks - while there aren’t really that many items, he lingers over each one, memories flashing through his mind like quicksilver. He shouldn’t have opened this box.

My dandelion tell me when you've made your mind // Kinktober Day 23 - Overstimulation by Heyimbeccah (PWP, BDSM | 1K | Explicit): Eddie's eyes light up as he rubs his thumb over his cock again and again, drawing a series of whimpers from his throat. "It's gonna hurt, baby," he whispers. "Please," Buck says, his voice breaking.

🔥 stupid people. by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Canon Divergent, Sex Worker Buck | 160K | Explicit): New in Los Angeles, and having recently admitted to himself that he's gay, Eddie figures that hiring a sex worker might be a good way to keep his private life cut off from his job and his son. A way to keep things from becoming too complicated. It works. For a while.

believe in one thing (i won't go away) by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Canon Divergent, Post-Coma | 24K | Mature): the one where buck is figuring out stuff after waking up from a coma, eddie misses his best friend and they go to couple's therapy.

you're where i stand, hearing the sea by Maira/ @carrierofthepaperclips (Getting Together | 3K | Teen): ... or the one with the accidental kiss.

With Great Power Comes Great Pining by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Post-Lightning, Getting Together | 10K | Teen): It was the lightning strike. That had to be it. It was the only logical conclusion. Though, when it comes to being able to suddenly read people’s minds, Buck supposed there wasn’t a whole lot of logic involved. Well… Not people. Just… Eddie’s mind. 

look straight ahead if you like it slow by hattalove/ @hattalove (PWP, Established Buddie | 6K | Explicit): “This gets you going, huh?” Eddie grins, propping himself up on his elbows so he can move higher on the bed, reach the pretty pink bow of Buck’s mouth. “Devotion? You being it for me?” He stretches up toward Buck’s ear, whispers: “Monogamy?”

your long day is over now by hattalove/ @hattalove (Post Season 5, Pre-Buddie | 4K | Teen): or, buck leaves, then comes back home again. 

been yours longer than i haven't by hattalove/ @hattalove (Friends to Lovers | 1K | Teen): in which buck tries dating, and eddie has an embarrasing number of oh moments.

never want for more when you're near by hattalove/ @hattalove (Getting Together | 4K | Teen): in which buck gets drunk and sleeps with eddie. except does he?

baby, it's halloween (we can be anything) by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Post-Lawsuit | 2K | Teen): After Eddie forgives him and after they share that hug, Eddie invites Buck to come spend the night of Halloween with Chris and him, where he belongs. More feelings come to light and everything works out for the better.

baby, loving you's the real thing by hattalove/ @hattalove (First Kiss | 2K | Teen): in which eddie, very literally, has a brush with buck 1.0.

can't do a love song (not the way you sang them to me) by hattalove/ @hattalove (Post-Season 1, Neighbours AU | 7K | Mature): in which buck sleeps around for healthy reasons, and thinks about his next-door neighbor a healthy amount.

california wishing on these stars by hattalove/ @hattalove (Post-Season 5, Getting Together | 21K | Teen): in which 'tis the season, buck is single again, and eddie is being very brave about it.

pretty in pink by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (PWP, Panties | 4K | Explicit): Or, the one where Eddie finds out Buck's little secret and Buck wrongly assumes he has a problem with it so Eddie has to set things straight.

sucker for pain by prettyboybuckley/ @prettyboybuckley (PWP, Spanking | 2K | Explicit): OR: Buck gets spanked in one of his most intimate places

Make So Much Smoke it Sparks a Fire by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (PWP, Succubi&Incubi | 7K | Explicit): Incubi and succubi are not about sex. They're about lust. Desire. The build up. Driving you so insane that sex is all you can think about, all you want, all you need. Pushing you right over the edge. Naturally, Buck and Eddie like to have fun with this.

Love Like the Ocean (Dirties Your Body, Cleans Your Soul) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Mermaid Buck, PWP | 5K | Explicit): Eddie and Buck have been dating for a while, but practicalities have prevented them from having sex in Buck's true form. That's about to change.

I Love Oklahoma by chicklette/ @chicklette (Getting Together | 1,7K | General): Sometimes, you need to be able to call someone out without it being everything. Sometimes, you just need to make a hole and say here: spill it out here. We can grow it or bury it as needed, but you gotta get it out.

lost in your current like a priceless wine by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Established Buddie | 2K | Teen): Eddie jumps into conclusions, him and Karen get drunk and Buck is tired but also amused. It all works in the end.

may these memories break our fall by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Canon Divergent, Married Buddie, Amnesia | 6K | Teen): or: eddie is a soldier coming home for christmas, he wants to surprise his husband and son for the holiday but things don't go as planned.

then through the phone ( came all your tears ) by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Post-Season 5, Dispatcher Eddie | 3K | Teen): After leaving the 118, Eddie becomes a 911 dispatcher.

put on a slow dumb show for you by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Getting Together | 2K | Teen): or, they’re sleepy and a little drunk and buck’s one step behind

it can't be unlearned (i've known the warmth of you) by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Werewolf Buck | 4K | Teen): He thinks maybe he fell asleep and he's having a weird dream or something. There's a big— a huge— wolf curling on itself and sleeping soundly where his coffee table should be.

spinning faster than the plane that took you by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Canon Divergent, Post-Coma | 9K | Teen): or: Buck flees to the other side of the world, they're both miserable and also pining idiots in love. Somehow it all works out in the end.

baby, let the games begin by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Post-Season 5, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): There's a baseball game, Eddie pines and Hen is so done with these two idiots.

🔥 Don't They Know It's the End of the World? by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Fallout 4 AU, Post-Apocalyptic | 32K | Mature | Warning: Violence): After being put in a cryogenic sleep for over a hundred years to wait out an apocalyptic event, Eddie Diaz wakes up, too early, to find his son has been stolen from his cryo-chamber. Scared and alone in a frightening world he doesn't recognize, Eddie is willing to do anything to get his kid back.

WIP

and here, too, am i by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Future fic, Married Buddie | 1/3 | 11K | Teen): Six months into their marriage, Eddie is still struggling to decide whether or not he wants more kids, when he knows Buck does. The universe may not scream, but it certainly talks.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon, S1 through S6 | 96/? | 245K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Demon Buck, Canon Divergent | 5/? | 9K | Teen): Buck is a demon with the power to help with pregnancy, childbirth, and infant health. When the Buckleys make a deal asking for someone to help 'save their baby', Buck leaps at the chance as it will give him what he's always wanted: a life on earth. But demon deals are tricky and neither of them gets quite what they're after. This is Buck's journey as he navigates growing up on earth and remembering how to help those in need.

Re-Read

I Opened My Eyes and There You Were by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Post-Season 3, Getting Together | 4K | Explicit): In which Buck provides the dots and Eddie finally connects them.

Drowning in Dreams (You're My Raft) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels Post-Tsunami, Getting Together | 5K | Explicit): In which Buck sleeps his way into a relationship with Eddie, but not in the way you'd think.

Like a Sack of Bricks by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Getting Together | 2K | Teen): One word from Christopher, and Eddie's realizing he's made a serious miscalculation about his best friend.

Love Like Taffy by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (PWP, Dom/Sub | 4K | Explicit): Buck likes it when Eddie puts him in his place. And Eddie's noticed.

🔥 let's hear it for the boy by hattalove/ @hattalove (Post-Season 5, Coming Out | 56K | Teen): in which eddie attends a self-empowerment group for gbtq men to supplement his therapy, and is empowered to: forgive himself, say "i'm gay" to his own reflection in the mirror, accidentally adopt an adult, make fried rice, and tell his straight best friend that he's in love with him. not necessarily in that order.

rainbows have nothing to hide by hattalove/ @hattalove (Getting Together | 3K | Teen): how is eddie diaz like kermit the frog? let buck and christopher count the ways. (Part 1 of the kermit verse)

this savoir faire by hattalove/ @hattalove (Established Buddie | 5K | Teen): or, the one in which embracing the meme life turns out to be more complicated than eddie expected. (Part 2 of the kermit verse)

[bluedillylee]

Episode 4 of the Hexer

ooo some similarities with Netflix Witcher (and the books obviously) with these guys trying to rob Geralt and then Borch, Tea, and Vea intervene.

Tea and Vea look terrible honestly like a cheap halloween costume. This Borch is younger than the Netflix version. I wonder if they'll have them all flirt as a nod to the orgy that happens in the book.

AAAA WE HAVE HEADBAND GERALT!!!!! WOO WOO!!!

this is very like the book from what I remember. Geralt upfront warning Borch that people don't like witchers and treat them like lepers. All the smiles Borch is giving Geralt are making me laugh a little. Geralt looks filthy and Borch is smiling at him like he's about to start twirling his hair and giggling.

ok we've got a time-skip from the last episode. Geralt's been on the road for several years now.

Geralt is a sensitive dude huh? i'm really liking this convo with Borch it really reminds me of the books. It might be actual lines from the books i'm not sure i dont have copy with me rn.

talking about his principles and how he works to preserve human life but he doesn't like humanity very much.

pfft Borch telling Vea and Tea not to brawl even tho that dude totally groped her c'mon dragon man don't be such a downer.

drunk Geralt defending dragon omg i think Borch might be in love hahaha

holy shit are we getting the orgy??? goddamn we actually got all four of them in the tub together.

Netflix witcher I am looking at you rn 00 we didn't even get flirting!? and they got to be in a tub together!!! what the hell

DANDELION!!!! (edit JASKIER!!)

ok i thought this when I read the books as well but Dandelion introducing himself as poet, bard and unmatched in the bedroom (wink wink) to Borch is not straight behavior.

Secondly Geralt smiling at Dandelion as he greats him with a happy "Geralt" is very sweet. A wonderful into to their friendship.

oh they call him Jaskier in this too. Is Dandelion only a book name then? wait I remember there being some thing about them localizing the polish name for english readers. hmmm yep he's jaskier in the original polish version.

hold on we're probably going to meet Yennefer in this episode too! It's been very book accurate this episode and Jaskier just said they're waiting on a wizard to arrive.

OMG!! i should've just shutup and watched she's here!!!! aaaaahhh geralt's face haha yes

why is there no equality with nudity? I have seen full on female nudity several times now but have I seen even one dick? its sexism is what it is. I want to see a dick, for feminism!

hmm so Yennefer says he wants a lover and a mother (girl i hear you) and he has no purpose just wandering around killing monsters

aaaa they're hanging from the cliff and the reavers want to let them fall. omg Yennefer tells Geralt to save himself

Jaskier's helping them up (my ot3!!)

ooo scary Geralt begging the reaver to draw his sword so he can kill him. and he's back to looking goofy because wtf kinda kill was that i can't even tell if the other guy is dead or not.

ugh this dragon looks terrible. netflix version was also awful. why is it so difficult to design a kick ass dragon? his head is so small compared to his body as well as having tiny arms. Borch skipped arm day and only jacked up his legs

haha jaskier really is Donkey from shrek, dragon flirting and all

that was all very chaotic but they saved the ugliest baby dragon there ever was. Seriously tho that thing is butt ugly

what does Yennefer mean by saying she is a shard of ice? I'm trying to remember the short story. I felt like in that story she felt like there was a part of her that could never be loved or fully accepted and understood and that's what she meant by it. Hmmm I'll have to go back and read it again.

[bubblegum-gf]

Can we interest you in rtumblr, all of the time?

I covered @dweebodoodle's Welcome to Rtumblr with SynthV Kevin!

Lyrics and stuff under cut

Original song by Bo Burnham SVP/Tuning by me Lyrics by Dweebo (I made a few edits just so it fits with the song better)

Lyrics:

Welcome to Rtumblr! Have a look around Anything unexpected you think of can be found We've got mountains of lore, some wholesome, some cursed If these things are confusing you, well you ain't the first

Welcome to the Rtumblr! Come and take a seat Would you like to see Plex News or maybe Kevin having feet? There's no need to panic, this isn't a test Just nod or shake your head and we'll do the rest

Welcome to the Rtumblr! What would you prefer? Would you like to see preggy Clippy or observe Cuppy's tits? Be happy! Be horny! Be bursting with rage! We got a million different ways to engage!

Welcome to Rtumblr! Put your brain aside Here's some adorable fan art and RTSans fucking died! We got Boards, and roleplay, and some therapy And a bunch of colored pencil drawings of all the different RT AUs and personas fighting each other

Welcome to Rtumblr! Hold on to your ass Cuz a random guy just kindly blazed the Board onto your dash It is lengthy and it's low-res Your tumblr just crashed! Don't be surprised, you ain't seen shit just yet so-

See a capitalist, but what is this, he's a twink Here's some all new RT AUs and more at least every week Start a theory, wanna hear-y Fluffy's dandelion theory? Where Magical John from Miitopia says that they have milkies in their-

Do you wanna join our roleplays? You should take their hat Here's the canonical mpreg and here's Magic John x Chat Which Irish Lad are you? Take this quirky quiz So tell me now do all these things just make you want to scream?

Can we interest you in Rtumblr all of the time? A little bit of Rtumblr, all of the time? Apathy's a tragedy and boredom is a crime Anything and everything all of the time

Can we interest you in Rtumblr all of the time? A little bit of Rtumblr, all of the time? Apathy's a tragedy and boredom is a crime Anything and everything all of the time

You know, it wasn't always like this...

Not very long ago Just before our time Right before the RTBreaks Year 2020 There was art, headcanons, a fan song or two We set our sights and spent our nights Waiting...

For you You... Innocent soul you Watched RTGame on your IPad The Rumble Tumble himself Tumblr did all the things we designed it to do

Now look at you Look at you! You, you! Innocent, confused Your time is now, you know it now Honey how you grew! And if we stick together, who knows what we'll do? It was always the plan to put these things in your head

Can we interest you in Rtumblr all of the time? A bit of Rtumblr, all of the time? Apathy's a tragedy and boredom is a crime Anything and everything all of the time

Can we interest you in Rtumblr all of the time? Little bit of Rtumblr, all of the time? Apathy's a tragedy and boredom is a crime Anything and everything and anything and everything and anything and everything and All of the time

[fangirleaconmigo]

Are you taking requests actually? I want to know if Jaskier ever or often patches up geralt’s wounds

ETA: CORRECTION! THANK YOU ANON. PLEASE REBLOB THIS ONE FOLKS.

Hi Elsa! So here I am apologizing again to a tumblr fren for how long I take. But I really do open a gdoc and pick away at these for months. Hopefully they are worth the wait.

So. Here is your next installment of ...

I Can't Believe It's Not Fanon: facts that sound like Geraskier fic writers made them up, but that are in fact, book canon.

'Bandaging each other up' edition.

In Geraskier fic, the ‘’bandaging each other up” trope is wildly popular. That just makes sense. Geralt has a dangerous job + we all want them to show each other care and tenderness. Restrained yearning while touching is a great combo.

Now, is it book canon? (drumroll please)

Yes folks. It's canon.

They both patch each other up at least once that is mentioned. The time Geralt bandages Dandelion is much more dramatic so I'll focus there first:

Geralt does patch Dandelion up. And while it isn’t just like fanon (there are no kisses) it is an incredibly pivotal moment for Geralt. Seeing Dandelion get hurt and put at risk, fucks Geralt up so badly that it leads to one of the most iconic scenes in the series. It also portrays one of my most beloved tropes of all time. I will get into all that.

 Also, as a bonus, the way their friends react to Dandelion’s (relatively) minor injury, is so fucking funny and cute. There is this fanon going around, (I saw a post I can’t find now) where Jaskier gets minorly injured and the wolves fuss over him and make a big deal over his bravery. XD It’s very cute. 

And actually.

That is canon. Only instead of the wolves, it’s the hansa. (For the uninitiated, the hansa is an iconic group of friends who wander the continent through a war hellscape with Geralt to help him find Ciri)

Ok *clears throat* here is what happens when Dandelion is injured. I talked about this part a bit in my “Geralt being extremely protective of Dandelion” post, but I have something new to say about it, I promise.

So, in Baptism of Fire, Geralt and Dandelion are on the same horse, fleeing an enemy. They are in a clearing, and are trying to make it to a forest for tree cover. Geralt is riding in front, and Dandelion is holding onto Geralt for dear life in the back. If they are caught and overpowered, it would mean certain death. In that context, here is how Dandelion is injured:

When hope dawned that they might just make it, the night air suddenly sang with a whistle of fletchings. Dandelion yelled, this time very loudly indeed, and dug his fingers into Geralt’s sides. The Witcher felt something warm dripping onto his neck.

Uh oh. Bard down. What does Geralt do?

“Hold on!” he shouted, catching the poet by the elbow and drawing him closer to his own back. “Hold on Dandelion!”

So first, he draws Dandelion closer, hoping he can cling to his back. And how does Dandelion react? Well, Dandelion has been hurt before, when the djinn got him. But that was magical. There was no blood involved. No one has ever made him bleed his own blood before. So, he panics.

“They’ve killed me!” the poet howled, impressively loudly for a dead man. “I’m bleeding! I’m dying!”

The tongue in cheek humor is one of the hallmarks of the witcher books. But yeah. The poor guy utterly panics. They almost make it into the cover of some woods when Dandelion pitches backwards off the horse.

The poet thudded onto the dirt and lay still, groaning pathetically. His head and left shoulder were covered in blood, and glistened black in the moonlight. 

Now, this part I've discussed. The next part is where we see how it makes Geralt feel to see Dandelion harmed like that. 

The witcher sprang up, feeling a swelling wave of cold fury and hatred inside him...he wanted to kill.

Seeing Dandelion attacked makes him feel cold fury and homicidal rage. So he faces their pursuers and kills the leading rider in a grotesque way, by way of a blade into his open mouth up to the hilt. (Geralt is an intense motherfucker when you hurt someone he loves) Then he goes back to his friend.

“Dandelion! Where were you hit? Where is the arrow?”

“In my head, it’s stuck in my head.”

“Don’t talk nonsense! Bloody hell, you were lucky. It only grazed you.”

“I’m bleeding...”

Dandelion has never been shot before, so he thinks the pain means the arrow is stuck in his head. Geralt is massively relieved. And then Geralt does something that we do see a lot in fanon.

Geralt removed his jerkin and tore off a shirtsleeve. The point of the quarrel had caught Dandelion above the ear, leaving a nasty looking gash extending to his temple. The poet kept bringing his shaking hand up to the wound and then looking at the blood, which was profusely spattering his hand and cuffs. His eyes were vacant.

So Geralt takes off his own jerkin so he can get to his shirtsleeve and he tears his own clothing to get ready to bandage Dandelion. Dandelion is in shock. His eyes are vacant.

And here’s the part that really gets me.

The witcher realized he was dealing with a person who, for the first time in his life, had been wounded and was in pain. Who, for the first time was seeing his own blood in such quantities.

Now, again, Dandelion was horrifically wounded by the djinn. But it was magical and he was cured. But this is the first time he is bleeding from a wound. And to me it is so crucial that this is the thought that Geralt has. Despite the fact that he’s closer to a hundred years old than fifty, and has been injured countless times, he never loses sight of the fact that his friend doesn’t have the same experience of physical suffering that he does. (I’ll come back to that). Now. Back to the story.

“Get up,” he said, wrapping the shirtsleeve quickly and clumsily around the troubadour’s head. “It’s nothing, Dandelion. It’s only a scratch. Get up, we have to get out of here fast.”

So Geralt wraps up his wound. But since they are in the middle of a battle zone and he is emotional, it is quick and clumsy and he's trying to calm him. And now he needs to get him to safety.

Dandelion managed to get up, but immediately sat down again, groaned and sobbed pitifully. The witcher lifted him to his feet, shook him back to consciousness and hauled him into the saddle. 

Geralt mounted behind the wounded poet and spurred the horse east...

So, he reassures him, rips his own clothes to bandage him and he tosses him on the horse for safety. Now they ride off to find their friends, and now Geralt is behind him, holding him up.

Now, we get back to the hansa. If you don’t know hansa, there is Milva, who I have profiled here. She is a very tough archer who has been through a lot of shit and can beat your ass. There is Cahir, (nothing like tv Cahir) who used to be a soldier. So. Also a warrior. And we have Regis, a several centuries old vampire who can go from genteel to deadly in the blink of an eye. (we don’t have Angouleme yet). I'd be willing to wager that Dandelion is the baddest ass poet on the continent. But compared to Geralt and the other members of the hansa, he is a soft squishy little wet kitten, and they rarely let him forget it.

When Geralt reunites with them, Regis bandages up Dandelion with a real bandage. Regis is a barber/surgeon and very good at field medicine. 

And the way Regis talks to Dandelion is so sweet. Like, there is an inherent ridiculousness but to me it is so goddamn touching. Here he is treating him:

“Be brave, Dandelion.”

Dandelion was brave.

“Almost done here,” Regis said, setting about bandaging the victim’s head. “Don’t you worry, Dandelion., you’ll be right as rain. The wound is just right for a poet, Dandelion. You’ll look like a war hero, with a proud bandage around your head, and the hearts of the maidens looking at you will melt like wax. Yes, a truly poetic wound. Unlike an abdominal wound for instance. Liver all cut up, kidneys and guts mangled, stomach contents and faeces pouring out, peritonitis...Right, that’s done.”

It is so comedic how he talks to a grown man like a child but it's genuinely touching to me because there is real compassion in it. They may have suffered far worse (Regis has been quite literally torn apart), but they still are so proud of him for dealing with his wound. Also, he knows to appeal to two of Dandelion’s biggest priorities; good poetry and impressing women. 

Then, we really see the emotional effects of Geralt seeing Dandelion injured like that. 

Right after this happens, Geralt tries to drive his friends away. He says his mission (they are trying to find Ciri in a war zone) is too dangerous for them. He gives his “I’m going it alone now, you can all leave” speech. Dandelion has no intention of leaving him and sasses the fuck out of him, shading him in a very accurate way, as he does.

“It only concerns you,” Dandelion repeated slowly. “You don’t need anybody. Company impedes you and slows down your journey. You don’t expect help from anybody and you have no intention of relying on anybody. Furthermore, you love solitude. Have I forgotten anything?”

And Geralt’s response shows us how badly Dandelion’s injury had him fucked up. He replies to Dandelion:

“Had that arrow passed an inch to the right, you idiot, the rooks would be pecking out your eyes now. You’re a poet and you’ve got an imagination; so try imagining a scene like that...”

That arrow, that close call on Dandelion's life really shook Geralt. Though he always worried about them, Dandelion’s injury was the inciting event for him to try to push away his friends in order to protect them. But of course no one leaves him. They make him sit down and chop vegetables for the iconic fish stew scene. Ok, now back to the ‘everyone is proud of Dandelion for his injury’ trope.

The group reunites with Zoltan Chivay, their dwarf friend, and he shouts and embraces Dandelion. 

“Dandelion, alive and kicking, even if your skull is bandaged! And what do you say, you bloody busker, about this latest melodramatic banality? Life, it turns out, isn’t poetry! And do you know why? Because it’s so resistant to criticism!”

I love how all of these warrior/soldier/badass types love to tease him about being a poet. It’s the kind of teasing that shows affection and indicates that they consider him part of their group, even though his gifts are different than theirs. Then later, Milva talks about how she misjudged Dandelion and how he is a hero.

“I saw how Dandelion puts on a brave face: but thought him weak, soft, not used to hardship. I was just waiting for him to give up and we’d have to offload him...Now just look: Dandelion’s the hero...”

But of course, Dandelion cannot just be cool about the attention he’s getting. He has to make ballads about himself.

Dandelion followed behind Regis and Geralt on Pegasus, with a bandaged head and a warlike mien. As he rode, the poet composed a heroic ballad...the song clearly implied that the author and performer had been the bravest of the brave during the adventures.

The man just cannot. Be. Cool. About it. But I think it’s cute they all let him preen and they don't tell him to stfu about a damn grazing of the head. XD That's true friendship. True love.

So, can I tell you about what really really gets me about that bit though? 

Geralt, our main character, has been abused and traumatized in every way imaginable. He has been tortured, assaulted, discriminated against, experimented on, beat to shit, and people are always trying to kill him. 

In my experience, people who are traumatized can sometimes resent people who have had an easier life. They can begrudge other people their comparative innocence, freedom, or ignorance. It’s human. It happens. 

So when there is a fictional character (Geralt) who is that traumatized, and they meet someone comparatively sheltered (Dandelion has been beaten for sure, but it's hard to compete with Geralt's experience with harrowing violence), and instead of resenting that person, their instinctive emotional reaction is an undying, almost pathological determination to protect the more sheltered person, that gets to me. It hits me directly where I live.

The compassion and empathy it takes to have a wound like a crater and instead of begrudging other people their relative safety, you dedicate your life to preventing them from getting a scratch, that is profound. And when I see it in a fictional character, I fall in love with them. That’s it. I just hand them my heart. It also sort of implies to me a sense of vulnerability. An instinctive desire for healing. When you can heal someone else and it makes you feel good, isn’t that like wanting healing for yourself? It makes me ache.

Girl help, I’m in my feelings again about Geralt of Rivia.

Dandelion helps Geralt Sew His Wounds

Now, the fanon of Jaskier patching up Geralt is not on the page in book canon. He must have helps him with smaller injuries from time to time, just by sheer necessity given how many years they travel together. And while he hates murder and gore, I imagine he can handle small wounds. But that isn’t on the page.

CORRECTION: AND IT IS ON THE PAGE.

Thanks to a lovely reader/observant anon who reminded me AND hunted down the passage, it is mentioned at least once that Dandelion helps Geralt with suturing a wound. In Sword of Destiny p227:

" Just before the girl arrived, Geralt had poured a coagulating elixir on his mutilated forearm, and boosted it with an anaesthetic elixer, and Essi had caught them just as he and Dandelion were suturing the wound using a fishing line tied to a hook."

Now, other times, when Geralt is very probably-would-have-been mortally wounded (after the striga, or after the redacted), Jaskier is not physically present, and once someone else helps Geralt because they are much better equipped to do so. On the page, it is always usually women who put Geralt back together: priestesses, sorceresses, or dryad healers. 

The women in Geralt’s life challenge him in various ways, and their respect is sometimes hard earned. But they are always there when he needs them. They are all powerful or learned healers. And Yennefer specifically tries to think of his health. She indirectly pressures people to pay Geralt more for jobs so he has more of wages for medical expenses. It is touching, AND really important how it places Geralt and witchers as part of the working class.

Dandelion constantly defends Geralt. Geralt is his specialest boye. But he never bandages Geralt in the books. And he also canonically helps him suture his wounds.

So, this one is 50/50. Half canon half fanon. It's canon, folks.

ALSO, that story, (A Little Sacrifice, which is a short story in Sword of Destiny) is PEAK domestic Geraskier/Gerlion. They pool their money and get in brawls together, and they share a bed and clothing. They also philosophize, psychoanalyze each other, bicker, and swear not to leave each other when they get into trouble out on a hunt. If you don't want to, or can't read the books, I recommend that one short story.

The "male gaze" is heavy (most people's critique of The Witcher books is very true) in that story. The mermaids breasts are described at least twice every time she makes an appearance. But the story IS really fucking delightful and you get so much insight into Geralt and his friendship with Dandelion is in top form. Also, I adore Essi, and she is in that story.

Anyway, thanks again to the eagle eyed anon. I usually try to qualify "that is not in the books" with "that I remember" since my brain is so fallible. But I really thought I would have noticed something like that! Goes to show.

And I think it's HYSTERICAL that the ONE time I write that Gerlion DON'T entirely behave like they're in a fanfic, is the time that I'm wrong XD.